Recently, my company had it's annual meeting in New Orleans. During one of our meetings of that week, we were prompted to think about crucible moments in our lives that have helped define and shape who we are today. And who we might become later in life. In searching my personal history for my crucibles, I found two overwhelming themes (if you will): emotional detachment and strength. Both of these characteristics simultaneously coincide with the worst moments in my life. To avoid being too depressing, I'll share only one. The one that means the most to me, in a sense that it has had the biggest impact in my life...
Within my immediate family, it seems like I always have to be the strong one. Carrying the others on my back. Being the pillar of logic and protection. The time I had to perform these duties at my best and without fail was three years ago. My dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. And not just "hey, I'm a little sick" cancer. It was "stage 4, my only shot is radiation and I only have one shot - if it fails, that's it" cancer. It was the worst thing I've ever had uttered to me and I'll never forget it.
At the time, I was working for my mom at her mortgage company. I remember coming back from lunch with my sister on that particular day. If you've ever believed in unseen forces, this particular day was the most precise and relevant example of it. I hadn't been through the office doors more than 30 seconds and I knew something was off. KNEW it. With every ounce of my being. I have never felt more intuitive in my life. I immediately gave my mom the third degree of which she responded with nervous giggles and "everything's alright"s. My sister thought I was weird and couldn't understand why I thought something was up. I, however, continued to hound my mom for days; persistent in proving that my gut feeling wasn't off.
She finally caved - a moment of which I am neither grateful nor regretful of. "Your dad is sick. He has cancer and it doesn't look good." I happened to be standing in my bathtub at the moment of her decided revelation. My knees buckled. But not in a dramatic collapse. I just sank. And then sat. That may be the hardest cry I've ever cried. An utterly helpless, lost, unbelievably frightened cry. And the last time I shed a tear over it.
I now was charged with being the strong one. I "had to be strong for my sisters because they weren't going to be able to handle it the way" I could. These words my mother said to me. Pointedly and matter-of-factly. Over the next four months, I went to every doctor's visit with my dad. Listened to every fear, every thought, every hope he had. My sisters still did not know. He wanted to wait until he had all the answers to let everyone know. So there we stood - my dad, my mom, and I. Walking the scariest and darkest path we've ever come upon. Knowing nothing and everything all at once.
I had to stare at each of my sisters' faces for four months and pretend like everything was okay. But, out of us girls, I was the only one who could have carried that burden. I was all to efficient in shutting down. Turning my emotions off like it was second nature. I'm more emotionally detached than anyone I know. I am insanely uncomfortable when it comes to highly emotional events. My heart shuts off. I don't even have to make a conscious decision about it; it just happens.
And after that day, the day I cried like I've never cried before, my mind shifted. My heart did shut off. My mind, well, it went into logic overdrive. What do we do now? How do I make you better dad? What can I do and how do I help? The only emotional question I allowed to creep into my mind was what would I do without him, if I lost him? How would I, would WE cope?
The day we finally told my sisters was the weirdest out of body moment for me. Everyone cried. Sobbed. Shook. Questioned and cursed. I just sat. Numb. Shut off. Displaced. My only purpose was consoling. The strange thing? I wouldn't change how those events played out. I would never want my sisters to have carried that burden; knowing their father is sick and not being able to share it with a sole. If I do nothing else for those girls in my life, I will and want to carry pain for them. Be their pillar of strength. If I was blessed with the ability to be strong, logical and emotionally detached in the right moments, I will never curse this trait. I will protect them always.
It's been three years... My dad has watched me graduate college. Watched me move away and return. Watched me land the job of my dreams. And continues to watch my journey. Still smiling every time I call to say hi and ask the same silly question every time he answers. "Hey dad! What are you doing?" And each response is supplemented with laughter, "I'm working Shelly." You never realize how much you cherish the most ridiculous little traditions, until they feel like they may clutched out from your grasp. I love you dad.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Finding Passion
I haven't decided if this is something that I've clutched; passion that is. I feel there have been beautiful moments where I've glimpsed it and felt it resonate within me, but I still long for it. Long for it at a deeper level. That energy which invigorates your mind, soul, body. Transforms your thoughts, your very presence, even if it's in the unawareness of others.
Recently I heard a quote by Howard Thurman that has just stuck with me, churning within my mind and challenging my perceptions and goals. The repetition of this quote can be no coincidence, I have decided.
"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
Each time I hear this or read it, this spark ignites within me. What makes me, us, you come alive? Why do we so often lose sight of what invokes passion within ourselves?
I cannot, and will not be passionless. I will forever search, forever long to feel its strength, its envelope. Without passion, I feel I may never come full circle with any action, visual, relationship, etc - never truly feel or understand it. In the last few years I have found myself focusing on this idea of passion - what it means, how you find it, where it is within myself and others. I can actually pinpoint the moment, this "aha" moment, where my life, with or without a conscious decision, took a turn. I was about 22 and it was on a most uneventful, ordinary day. I was on campus, most likely looking like I was studying, but surely daydreaming. This uneasiness, almost fear, washed over me... I felt afraid. But not in a dangerous sense. For some reason, it hit me all at once. What was I doing? Better yet, what had I been doing? At 22, I felt I had already missed out on life. Never travelled, limited my connections with others because of my emotional detachment, blindly following paths because it was expected, never questioning... I had "pigeon-held" myself. What a bust! It took all but those few seemingly unimportant moments to shift my path, my very being.
I travel. Man, do I travel. It may not always be exotic, but I never miss a chance to engage in something new, somewhere new. I'll book a flight the same morning I've decided I need to be somewhere else. This may be a little crazy and probably has some underlying instability undertone, but I'm finding passion in travel. In the place, in the people, in myself because of it.
I question. Everything. And sometimes to a fault. In the last several years, my thirst for learning has all but turned into a borderline obsession. It's become my human need to learn. Before I graduated college, I started taking classes just because they sounded interesting, challenging, odd. They provided no benefit toward my degree, but boy did they toward my mind, my being. I read. A LOT. Books are like avenues to others - a way for us to connect to each other, which is something I feel we may be losing. However, this thought is for another time...
I feel I've begun to see. Truly see. I rarely get angry. Laugh at everything. But I think the thing I love the most, feel the most blessed by its presence and change in me is that I see and feel beauty. In everything. All the time. I don't know that I've ever smiled the way I do today, and I attribute it to being allowed to see and find beauty everywhere. It's sweet and unintentional relevance to all of us.
I've been rambling, I know. But let me leave with this... Passion, regardless of its Webster's definition, is what makes each of us, well us. If you don't find it, search for it, invite it, you'll never be the you you should have been. I will always find passion in my art, my writing, my connection with others - this will never leave me. I encourage you to find your passion, and walk with me on this journey - silently and without knowing of each other.
Recently I heard a quote by Howard Thurman that has just stuck with me, churning within my mind and challenging my perceptions and goals. The repetition of this quote can be no coincidence, I have decided.
"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
Each time I hear this or read it, this spark ignites within me. What makes me, us, you come alive? Why do we so often lose sight of what invokes passion within ourselves?
I cannot, and will not be passionless. I will forever search, forever long to feel its strength, its envelope. Without passion, I feel I may never come full circle with any action, visual, relationship, etc - never truly feel or understand it. In the last few years I have found myself focusing on this idea of passion - what it means, how you find it, where it is within myself and others. I can actually pinpoint the moment, this "aha" moment, where my life, with or without a conscious decision, took a turn. I was about 22 and it was on a most uneventful, ordinary day. I was on campus, most likely looking like I was studying, but surely daydreaming. This uneasiness, almost fear, washed over me... I felt afraid. But not in a dangerous sense. For some reason, it hit me all at once. What was I doing? Better yet, what had I been doing? At 22, I felt I had already missed out on life. Never travelled, limited my connections with others because of my emotional detachment, blindly following paths because it was expected, never questioning... I had "pigeon-held" myself. What a bust! It took all but those few seemingly unimportant moments to shift my path, my very being.
I travel. Man, do I travel. It may not always be exotic, but I never miss a chance to engage in something new, somewhere new. I'll book a flight the same morning I've decided I need to be somewhere else. This may be a little crazy and probably has some underlying instability undertone, but I'm finding passion in travel. In the place, in the people, in myself because of it.
I question. Everything. And sometimes to a fault. In the last several years, my thirst for learning has all but turned into a borderline obsession. It's become my human need to learn. Before I graduated college, I started taking classes just because they sounded interesting, challenging, odd. They provided no benefit toward my degree, but boy did they toward my mind, my being. I read. A LOT. Books are like avenues to others - a way for us to connect to each other, which is something I feel we may be losing. However, this thought is for another time...
I feel I've begun to see. Truly see. I rarely get angry. Laugh at everything. But I think the thing I love the most, feel the most blessed by its presence and change in me is that I see and feel beauty. In everything. All the time. I don't know that I've ever smiled the way I do today, and I attribute it to being allowed to see and find beauty everywhere. It's sweet and unintentional relevance to all of us.
I've been rambling, I know. But let me leave with this... Passion, regardless of its Webster's definition, is what makes each of us, well us. If you don't find it, search for it, invite it, you'll never be the you you should have been. I will always find passion in my art, my writing, my connection with others - this will never leave me. I encourage you to find your passion, and walk with me on this journey - silently and without knowing of each other.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Adult Conversations
I was at a birthday party Saturday night and some boy I had met at the beach earlier told me I was "unfriendly." This surprised me, as I was the one who turned to him and struck up a conversation. I suppose my dry, non-fluffy style of communication comes across as "unfriendly," but I think I'm okay with this. I don't feel the need to giggle like a 14 year old girl. I also prefer conversations that are much more centered around intellect.
So, why the above intro? It got me thinking about how my peers (20-30 somethings) interact, or don't, via conversation. It's a curious paradox we seem to teeter on. There's the age old "I don't like playing games and just want honesty," which is counterbalanced by the perpetual game playing and dishonesty. Where do you fall? And where do I fall for that matter?
My take on it is this: We are at an age where honest, albeit unpopular subject matter, conversations should be acceptable, and more so desired! Verbal expression is the sincerest form of emotional intimacy we as fellow humans can relate and connect to one another. What purpose or benefit are we providing ourselves by being dishonest or closed? Aren't we missing out on so much by doing this? My fondest memories in regards to conversations with others are those that are emotionally heightened by heated discussion, mixed viewpoints, and increased questioning.
It seems unfortunate that we don't find a burning wish, or rather insatiable urge to be open, direct, and concerned with our peers. To share. To feel. To connect. To ultimately relate. I'm not saying conversations have to all be sunshine and halos - conversations with "negative" connotations provide the best opportunity for the most growth and enlightenment. I guess my goal when participating in adult conversations is to be 'unordinarily' open, and allow myself the chance to hear and learn from another.
So, why the above intro? It got me thinking about how my peers (20-30 somethings) interact, or don't, via conversation. It's a curious paradox we seem to teeter on. There's the age old "I don't like playing games and just want honesty," which is counterbalanced by the perpetual game playing and dishonesty. Where do you fall? And where do I fall for that matter?
My take on it is this: We are at an age where honest, albeit unpopular subject matter, conversations should be acceptable, and more so desired! Verbal expression is the sincerest form of emotional intimacy we as fellow humans can relate and connect to one another. What purpose or benefit are we providing ourselves by being dishonest or closed? Aren't we missing out on so much by doing this? My fondest memories in regards to conversations with others are those that are emotionally heightened by heated discussion, mixed viewpoints, and increased questioning.
It seems unfortunate that we don't find a burning wish, or rather insatiable urge to be open, direct, and concerned with our peers. To share. To feel. To connect. To ultimately relate. I'm not saying conversations have to all be sunshine and halos - conversations with "negative" connotations provide the best opportunity for the most growth and enlightenment. I guess my goal when participating in adult conversations is to be 'unordinarily' open, and allow myself the chance to hear and learn from another.
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