Everywhere to Call Home

If time or money were no object, what would you rather be doing?

Occasionally, I like to ask this question because I find that it reveals a person's deeper desires, hopes, and dreams. I like to see the light switch flick on and their smiles broaden as, for a glimmer of a moment, they give voice to those hidden dreams. When I've asked, I've always enjoyed the answer.

To answer this question myself, I always thought in such simplistic terms: "travel" or "art studio." I thought, if time or money were no object, I would travel the world and paint and write and live happily for the rest of my life. But not too long ago, I realized that I've never answered this question in its fullness. For I had only considered the money part of it. What is the most expensive (and somewhat frivolous) thing I desire to do? Travel of course (bien sûr!). Next most expensive thing: a personal art studio.

But the more I think on it, the more I realize that this is not exactly it. I do not want to travel the world merely as a tourist. As Maike expressed it so profoundly this summer, 

"I just feel like I'm intruding on other people's memories, if that makes sense. I've heard so much about Mexico, and had so many friends from here, that I feel like I'm surrounded by their past, and everytime I see people lounging around on street corners I think of my friends and their families and like I am intruding on some private thing... It's been great, and I'm so glad to be here, but I've also recognized this isn't the kind of trip I want to save my money for when I'm older," 

Tourism is not what I want. No, I want to know peoples and cultures intimately. And what does this require? Time. And enormous amounts of it. Money too, yes. But more than that it requires an infinite amount of time to become so acquainted with not just one people, but many. Therefore, I revise my earlier wish--if time or money were no object, I would travel, yes, but more importantly, I would stay. I would stay with one people for hours, days, months, years--as long as it took to know and understand and love them, and then I would move on to the next place--a nomad with no permanent resting place, but everywhere to call home. 

Small Steps of Faith

Used under CC0 license via Unsplash

Adrenalin rushing and heart pounding, I considered a radically different future than all my carefully structured plans could ever paint. Why? In a word, a book. Over the weekend, I finally finished reading David Platt's book Radical. The subtitle, "taking back your faith from the American dream" expresses Platt's examination of how the iconic concept of the "American Dream" has distorted and diluted the gospel message. Honing in on the command of the Great Commission, "Go and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 20), Platt proposes that Biblical Christianity is much more radical than we've made it out to be in American culture. As I read, this book challenged me to re-think my mindset about my future and role in global mission work. The text convicted me to move but I didn't know where or how. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the (im)possibilities before me, I began with one tiny step--reaching out. Indeed, there was an email collecting virtual dust in my inbox with two missions-related resources: Brad Voeller's contact info, and a link to GoCorps.org. 

How Facebook Feeds Discontentment

Lately, I've been really convicted by the discontentment and jealousy I harbor in my life. I found myself scrolling through the news-feed on Facebook and envying the experiences of others. So-and-so went to Argentina! I wish I could travel. Or seeing all the girls dolled up for prom- I wish we had had a prom in high school. Or the engagements and wedding photos! I wish I was closer to that stage of life. Seeing the pictures and trips and job promotions and funny stories of my friends just made me want things that I didn't have...right now.

There are some things that just cannot be (prom for example), but many other things that can be had in time. It is these things (travel, careers, marriage etc.) that cause me the most heartache for they are the earnest desires of my heart but I remain in a constant state of waiting and looking forward. I've always been looking forward. Things will be better when.... I'm older. I'm graduated from college. I'm living on my own. I have a good job. I'm married. I have money. I can travel. Or even more recently--things will be better when my parents come home or Jake comes back. I have constantly told myself, If I can just get through this thing now, I can move on to the next thing. And then (subconsciously I thought), I'd be happy. But these are only empty promises I make to myself; and when I finally get to the next thing, there is always something else

I've also noticed that in my hunger to hear (other people's) stories (something Facebook makes accessible without the pressure of "real" human interaction--a rant for another day), I often lose sight of my own. It's easy to think my mundane existence in Tucson, Arizona is less exciting, less adventurous, less valuable or less insert-your-own-adjective-here because it is not something else. It's not a foreign exchange program in China, or a mission's trip to France. It's not wedding-planning or scoring great internships in preparation for my "dream job" or starting non-profits for good causes. It's pretty ordinary. There are some moments where I can be content with ordinary. But it's hard. And I can't do it if I'm constantly immersing myself in the details of other people's lives to the point where I am not living my own.

So, in a couple days, I'm going to take the summer off from Facebook. The blog will still be running, but I really  want to focus on being present and enjoying my life for what it is instead of resenting it for what it isn't.

The Formula for Life

No one says there is a formula to life. And yet, young people are inundated with very formulaic advice:
Go to college so you can get a good job. Do what you love. Follow your dreams. If you work hard, you can be anything you want to be. etc. etc. As if these mantras are the key(s) to success and happiness in life.

The end of my college career has brought with it the ambiguity and uncertainty of the unknown future, which is even more magnified by the constant and ever-pressing question of, "What's next?" Everyone wants to know! (Even complete strangers who find out I've recently graduated.) But what a lot of people don't realize is that their well-meaning small talk can put a lot of undue pressure on students who don't know what they want to do yet.

Lately, I've been so frustrated thinking about post-grad life and wrestling to answer this question, "what's next."There are so many possibilities, but a lifetime would never be enough time to taste them all. Should I pursue this? Or that? At what point should I choose skill (what I"m good at) over passion (what I love)? Is it okay to sacrifice some dreams? And if so, which ones? What kinds of dreams should be nonnegotiable? How do I know that my decisions now won't have a negative impact on my future?

I've noticed that there are a lot of invisible standards to live up to. Asking a graduate "What's next?", however well-intentioned, demands that he or she actually know what's next or have a goal or a career or a dream job that they're aiming for.

But it's hard to say, I don't know. 

It's hard to admit that just because you have a degree doesn't mean you have your life together (or even decently planned out). It's hard to tell people your tentative plans knowing they might sound unambitious. Why? Because everyone ëxpects great things"from me. And I don't know if they're being vague on purpose or if it's just the "right"thing to say. What great things do you expect? Yeah, it sounds encouraging in the golden, romantic glow of graduation, but afterward? Life is not so forgiving or easy to navigate as academia.

The formula is easy: grow up, go to college, work hard, get married, save money for retirement, start a family, keep working hard and you can relax in your old age happy and satisfied (and surrounded by loving grandchildren if you're lucky). But life is not math, my friends. It's messy. It's unpredictable. As I've been learning lately, it does not go according to plan. As a highly-organized self-proclaimed planner, that's hard for me. I want the security of having my life carefully mapped out, but Life does not like to be pinned down so easily. And you know what? I'm learning (slowly but surely) to be okay with that, whether it's 16 love letters left behind, or rescheduling the same coffee date 4 times, or simply trusting God with my career path.

Besides, I was never that good at math anyway.

The Noise

This is the Life

Stats:

times cried: 2
close calls: 3
cups of coffee: 4
time difference between here and France: 9 hours
days until Jake comes back: 14
days until the 'rents come back: 5
feeling: industrious
listening to: "Hopeless Rom-Antics Super Shuffle"(mix) and Nickel Creek
reading: Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski
learning: to adapt when the plan falls through (flexibility)
highlights: iMessage works internationally(!!!), watching the light change, extreme productivity, meeting up with my mentor, warm coffee and a cozy spot on the couch outside Starbucks.

Weekly Update:

As I'm sure you can imagine, this week has been up and down. But after the emotional rollercoaster of Jake's departure for France and the circumstances surrounding it, I've settled into a rhythm of life. Wake up at 6. Feed Pat. Shoot Pat (insulin shot). Work in the yard while listening to music that reminds me of Jake. Eat Breakfast. Shower. Work. Clean. Sit on the back porch and watch the light change. Take pictures. Ask Siri what time it is in France. Scroll through the newsfeed on Facebook. Make dinner. Watch Movies. Write Jake another letter at the end of the day. Go to Sleep. And repeat. It's not a bad lifestyle, actually--minus Jake's absence of course. I've been feeling super productive between cleaning every flat surface in the kitchen and baking scones and hard labor in the yard (pictures coming soon) in the early mornings. I'm turning into a regular housewife! It's scaring me! The productivity helps a lot though and I find that while I miss Jake a lot, it's not a gnawing ache in my heart (or at least not as much as it could be).

Honestly, the part I'm having the most trouble with is the silence. All this silence is making me realize how much noise there is in my life--not just physical sound, but just mental...noise. Too many things clambering for my attention. Too many thoughts rolling through my head. And I still reach for my tunes. (Bluegrasss is playing in the background right now!) Jake and I talked about that recently--being surrounded with so much noise that you can't hear God. And I thought to myself, I don't really struggle with that, because I don't mind the silence. I don't mind being still, sitting on the back porch with my iced tea and just listening--a thoughtful kind of idleness. But the past two days... noise is all I crave. I love the quiet; I hate the quiet. I love the noise; I hate the noise. It takes all my willpower to turn off the music. 

We're getting along, but I will be glad when life returns to some form of normalcy, or when Jake gets back. Whichever happens first.

The Danger of Daydreams

I never really thought about daydreams as "dangerous" until I read a post by Good Women Project on the topic. What's dangerous about a daydream? But lately, I've found myself sustaining many different daydreams as I start to plan for the future and I don't like what it does to my mind. They are innocent things to me and (it is worth noting) realistic-- the future with Jake, traveling, career possibilities etc., but I hate what it does to my mind.

I have more than a few harmless dreams--I'd love to travel abroad and experience other cultures, taste new food, listen to strange music, and maybe pick up a language (or two!). But I found myself latching on to any story of young people traveling--most recently, I heard of a girl who stayed with friends in France for a year while waiting for her fiance to finish school--and trying to figure out how I could follow in their footsteps to achieve my own ends. 

And then the thought occurred to me, perhaps I just need to learn how to be content with the shape my life takes regardless of which path I ultimately choose. My "harmless daydreams" stirred my jealousy and magnified my discontent, making me feel "stuck" because I couldn't do the same things they did. Couldn't walk the same paths they walked. But that doesn't mean I will never travel; I just need to find my own way to do it, instead of pursuing avenues that worked for other people, but might not work for me. 

So I've been rethinking a lot of boxes and expanding not only my perceived options, but also my expectations for what I want the future to look like. The truth is, it never looks quite like you planned it out to be; but being such a detailed planner, this is difficult for me to embrace. Still, I try to be flexible and in the mean time, I'll be dwelling in the here and now and not daydreaming of what is to come. 

Photo Credit: Ryan McGuire

Beautiful Things

I have a confession to make, lately, I've been floundering a little bit with a sense of aimlessness. When I wrote my autobiography for school, I was thinking a lot about purpose, particularly the journey of discovering my purpose. But when I looked back over the purpose statements I had written during my years of affiliation with CollegePlus (as a student, since I am now employed with them.), none of those statements resonated with me. My latest ideas, though not a written statement, toyed with the idea of helping girls understand their value. Maybe my purpose, I thought, is to use my struggle with self-esteem to help other girls going through the same thing. It seemed to fit, since I have the opportunity to mentor freshmen girls on Wednesday nights and helping out at the youth group is one of the most satisfying ministries I've had the pleasure to participate in.

And yet, something wasn't quite right.

At the back of my mind was the niggling thought that this wasn't it. I couldn't see myself advocating this message for years to come. I'm not the next "Beth Moore" or motivational speaker. I couldn't see myself devoting my life to this "cause." Of course it is a very worthy endeavor and there are so many girls who need to hear such a message, but just like God wasn't my Healer when I wanted to tell people about God being "the Ultimate Healer" (my very first purpose statement), somehow I didn't believe that talking about self-worth was my primary message. So what was it?

The truth is, I didn't really know. And when I finally realized this (literally in the last week), I freaked out a little. For a tiny moment, I felt so lost. What am I supposed to do?

Then today, over tea, I got a fresh perspective on it when a friend of mine asked the table, "What are you passionate about?" The question took a career-spin on it as people went around talking about what was most important to them--teaching, being a doctor, friends, Mom, history... Of course when it got through to me, I said, "I am passionate about art." That is a no-brainer, I've known that about myself for a long time. But as I kept talking about it, I realized that art was a narrow definition for what I am passionate about. It is so much more than art.

I am passionate about making beautiful things.

Art, yes. Writing, of course; that is my major after all. But it's also so much more than that. It's moments and memories and highlights and photographs and table settings and birthday cakes and interior design and conversations.

When I said, "It's so beautiful!!!" for probably the tenth time today, my dad pointed out, "That's been your catchphrase lately." I am drawn to beautiful things, and I think on some level everyone is. Why else do we have such an image-obsessed culture? But I think I am even more drawn to creating beautiful things and making the world around me a more beautiful place for myself and for others.

I may not change the world, ever. But you know what? I can help someone else see the world differently by making it more beautiful. And that is something my soul gets excited about! That is something I will do my entire life no matter where I end up in the world or how old I get. And that is what I believe my purpose is because I may not ever become a writer or an editor or a teacher or [insert whatever career here] but I will always be an artist and I will always love beautiful things.

eXPerience curating

I know I've posted a few book reviews lately. Here's another!

Awhile back, I came across Joel Zaslofsky's blog Value of Simple. What first intrigued me was his self-explorative tool, the Personal User Guide, but I was quickly sucked in by his ideas for living more simply. Now, he's coming out with a book Experience Curating. Since I'm an email subscriber, I got a sneak peak at some of the content, and It. Is. Awesome! Curating has roots in the Dewey decimal system, and of course museums, but Zaslofsky talks about curating in terms of experience. We are overwhelmed with information day to day, but what's the point if there's no way to filter through that information quickly so you can use it and make it available to others? Whether it's an online article, a book you read, a movie you watched, a restaurant you ate at, or a story your heard, how can one organize it so that the resources and experiences available to us can be made available to others? Joel's answer: Experience Curating!

Joel uses spreadsheets. He has a spreadsheet for everything which he can access virtually anywhere as long as he has internet access. He even used a spreadsheet to name his child!! Crazy right? I've found that spreadsheets are hard for me to integrate into my daily habits, but I've found them to be really useful for organizing scholarships, keeping track of my checking account, queuing up blog posts, and most recently, collecting responses for my survey! My enthusiasm for spreadsheets has definitely increased since Joel introduced them to me (and additionally, we use them all the time at work so I've been getting tons of practice); but of course this system is all about customizing it to suit your needs and goals and the things YOU want to keep track of and share. Maybe a bit of a radical concept that definitely requires a little discipline to implement, but his writing style is easy to grasp and the potential benefits far outweigh the initial effort of getting started.

*UPDATE* You know what's even cooler? Joel is offering the e-version of his book for free on Amazon through Saturday! Check it out!

Tell Me Your Story: Part 1

[T]here are surprisingly few occasions--or rituals--in which people are

expected or invited to tell the story of their lives from whatever they think the

beginning is: or to tell the even odder story that is their dream. (`The Telling of

Selves' Phillips On Flirtation 1994:75)

If there's one thing you should know about me, I love stories. So when I came across this quote in my African literature class, I was captivated. Ever since I read this, I have wanted to change it. Ever since I read this, I have been dying to ask someone, What is your story? What is it that made you the person you are today? Who are you and why are you here? What is your purpose? What do you wish you were doing? These questions roll and toss around inside my head, but I haven't given them voice, yet.

I want to be the kind of person that gives you space to tell your own story. I want to provide an exception to this quote. Part of this is my love for stories, the other part stems from my personality: I have a strong desire to overcome obstacles and constraints. Don't tell me something is impossible, because I will try to prove you wrong. There is something invigorating for me about struggling for something and achieving it, making the reward that much sweeter. This quote is just a constraint for me to break. There are few occasions for people to tell their stories? Then I will give them occasions. I will give them chances. I will give them spaces to be heard.

Last week, Jake and I talked about something similar to this. We were talking about life when he said, "I think the first episode of my life ended when I was diagnosed with cancer." Then he asked me how I would divide up the episodes of my life. The question caught me off guard, but I enjoyed answering it. I found that the first episode of my life ended when we moved away from Santa Rosa. I loved seeing how we split up lives differently. Though we've grown up together, we don't see ourselves the same way and I love that diversity!

I was telling him about how compelled I was by this question, "but I haven't asked anyone yet." I've been tempted; I've thought about it. But the words just haven't come out yet. So we turned it into a game: first person to ask someone else what their story is wins "a prize" (which will probably be merely mild gloating rights. It's not the prize that makes it fun; it's knowing that someone else is doing it too.). Jake was all, "I'm going to ask someone tomorrow... No, I'm going to ask someone right after I get off the phone!" "Whoa whoa, that's not fair!" I protested, "I'm going to sleep after this!" (Secretly, I also think it's not fair that he has such a large pool of people to pull from being at college, while I study locked up in my room all day!)

I get the feeling that this will become much more than just a game and it won't end with one story r two stories. (Hence the "Part 1" in the title of this post!) I see us collecting a multitude of stories like little puzzle pieces--fragments of a larger story that is begging to be told.