Freedom (Tower)

It's so nice to see the New York skyline.  I saw it this morning at around 5:30 AM and it basically looked like this.  After September 11th, the hole that the two towers had left was a reminder that something had happened.  I still remember driving to New York in October 2001 for my birthday and finding it hard to believe that these two dominant buildings that used to overshadow the Empire State Building were just gone.  Seeing the Freedom Tower in its place really does make me feel just a little proud of our stubborn American spirit, sometimes of course a bit arrogant, but obstinate enough to refuse to let such a vibrant and energetic city, full of that optimistic you-can-be-anything-you-want energy, survive with such a hole in it's skyline and infrastructure.  Although I also know that this area is prime real estate, for just a moment or two, I like to believe that this building proves our resilient and ambitious nature that I really love so much and hope we never lose.

Jersey

My best friend moved to New Mexico at the end of fourth grade and it wasn't until I overheard her mom saying, "Yeah, we always have to explain to people where we're from in New Jersey and that's it's really beautiful," that I started to realize that New Jersey has such a terrible reputation and is even referred to as the "armpit state" sometimes.  Growing up in such a lush area, I always thought New Jersey was beautiful and didn't question why it's called "The Garden State".  In Revolutionary War history I took pride in the story of Washington crossing the Delaware, which is about twenty minutes from my house, and enjoyed driving through the Delaware Water Gap, past the Appalachian Trail, on our way to Pennsylvania (or, Pennsyltucky).  However, now, when I say I'm from New Jersey people usually assume I'm from the city, mention Jersey Shore, think of Jersey housewives or offer their condolences.  

On the other hand, my mom gets such positive reactions when people realize she's from Scotland: "Oh Scotland!  I've always wanted to go there!".  Sometimes when I tell people that I'm going over to visit family their reaction is, "Oh, it'll be so nice to be out in the countryside."  However, my grandparents actually live in government housing, where all the houses are connected in a row, left over from a more socialist era of Scotland (though they themselves still refuse to buy their house) in a small city that had been centered around industry - particularly the huge steelworks that used to be in the area, which is where my grandfather worked after having worked on the railway (my grandmother's people were miners).  Although the countryside is never far away, and Scotland is very beautiful, my mom actually grew up in something closer to what people picture Jersey being like.  Going to visit my grandparents is more like going to Lynn, if you're familiar with the Boston area. 

Each person's context is so specific, it's important to try to ask a person questions before jumping to conclusions about who they are or where their from.  When people ask where I'm from now, I don't even really know what to tell them.  New Jersey?  North Shore?  Boston?  At a retreat in November, basically for ropes course facilitators and people connected with that kind of work, I went to a workshop on horse therapy.  I had no idea how much wisdom I would hear from this woman who has worked with horses for so long (she's from Scottish descent, so I'm sure that has something to do with how wise she is).  

One of the things that she mentioned about horses is that they have such a high sense of resonance - that they can feel what you're feeling and that they can sense danger even when they can't see it coming.  She told us to approach them with curiosity and simply put out our hand and they would come to us.  I felt nervous doing this, being in front of such a majestic creature that could run toward me at any second.  However, the horse came right to me and even tried to nuzzle against me, it was kind of precious.

She talked about really looking at the horse and asking, "Who are you?" but more importantly, related this to when we look at people we need to really look into their eyes and genuinely wonder, "Who are you?".   We watched her move a horse around the pen just by approaching it with energy.  By jumping up and down and running beside it, she was able to persuade it to jump over one of the hurdles.  What a great visual for anyone teaching, facilitating or working with people.  

Looking at someone and genuinely taking the time to listen to who they are may be something that gets overlooked, when we put people together by our associations or assumptions rather than who they might actually be - or could be.  Being limited to mere stereotypes is too small, our lives are much more nuanced and unique than that.  Just as Jersey can be beautiful in some places, life doesn't always resemble what we think or expect - and that's what should make it such a CURIOUS place...

Mad Happiness

I began to notice of look of horror come over Meredith's face as we were finishing up lunch in a cafe downtown.  I turned around to see through the window oceans of water being released from the heavens.  We had no choice but to run through them, since there was a meeting she had to return to at work.  Completely unprepared, except for a take-out container that Meredith decided to use as a hat, we opened the door to the street and began sprinting through the sheets of rain.  We were SUCH renegades.

There's a quote that I've always loved from Nine Hills to Nambonkaha that says, "Rain is living breathing happiness.  Mad happiness."   It does feel like crazy joy when you embrace the rain, screaming and zigzagging through the streets - even barefoot (just one of us).  You are reminded that you're living, you're breathing and that it's nice to feel a little crazy sometimes.

Moonlight

The moon makes the night look good. 

Amateur Hour

The Golden Hour

"But originally, “amateur,” from the Latin verb amare, “to love,” referred to a person who loved what he was doing.  Similarly, a “dilettante,” from the Latin delectare, “to find delight in,” was someone who enjoyed a given activity. The earliest meanings of these words therefore drew attention to experiences rather than accomplishments; they described the subjective rewards individuals gained from doing things, instead of focusing on how well they were achieving.  

Nothing illustrates as clearly our changing attitudes toward the value of experience as the fate of these two words.  There was a time when it was admirable to be an amateur poet or a dilettante scientist, because it meant that the quality of life could be improved by engaging in such activities.  But increasingly the emphasis has been to value behavior over subjective states; what is admired is success, achievement, the quality of performance rather than the quality of experience.  Consequently it has become embarrassing to be called a dilettante, even though to be a dilettante is to achieve was counts most – the enjoyment one’s actions provide." 

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience

Breath of Salty Air

(Rockport, MA.  Memory card was left at home, but this is an exact replica)

"And then, some morning, the mind wakes, comes to life again.  Not in a city sense - no - but beach-wise.  It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach.  One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor.  Perhaps a channelled whelk, a moon shell or even an argonaut.

But it must not be sought for or - heaven forbid! - dug for.  No, no dredging of the sea bottom here.  That would defeat one's purpose.  The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient.  To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith.  Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches.  Patience and faith.  One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh Gift from the Sea

Lawn Chair

Someone get this guy a drink, he's been sitting out in the sun all day.  Or bring him an ocean, a friend, and some music.  At least he can munch on some blueberries while waiting for someone to want to sit outside again.

Drawing the Line

So often, my grandfather, pops into my mind as a model to live by.  Though he may be painfully shy, largely anti-social, and relatively unadventurous at this point in his life, his character and principles that he lives by are what stand out to me as being important.   As I watch him do crosswords, or pull out the plugs from electric devices, I am fully engaged.  Without knowledge of much of our daily technological lives, he is content – and more admirably, content with not having – which is what inspires me most. 

He told us that the fridge was too full of food, after my grandmother said the towels that my mother bought were too big.  We just nod our heads agreeably and later search for those big fluffy towels that she has put away underneath all of the ancient shabby ones so that we can indulge ourselves in the luxurious terrycloth.

There is a right way to do everything.  There is also a wrong way – a stupid thought, careless technique and clumsy attempt.  Integrity comes from doing what you know is right, whether someone is watching you or not.  It comes from deciding the best way to react, do and be in a given situation, without hesitation, and standing up for what is good.  Knowing what is good is the challenge while not lowering standards or giving into careless acceptance.

When in doubt, I hope to remember my grandparents – content to do without, to say “no” and to not compromise.  This is a part of what living well means.  

Conditions

The heat has been brutal lately.  I've been exposed to the elements for the past three days now, being out on ropes courses.  All I can think is, "Survive, survive, survive."  It's worth it, in the end.  I like to think I'm embracing nature despite its attempts to destroy me.  However, I would like to drag an air conditioner along with me, as if that would help cool down such a gigantic section of air.  But then, there'd be no struggle for survival and I would forget that I'm human.

Grow!