My last post ended with a blurrying cover-story that I may not write again until the New Year....I guess it was an ahead-of-time attempt to prevent any further feelings of failure. No need. There is always room for writings, aren't there?
This one comes out of an afternoon tea session with a Christmas mug in my cupboard. Events over the past week (aside from class gossip) had me turning my stomach, and while positives like our game night with neighbors and friends was truly, truly joyful; I have had my ups and downs very close together recently, and hoped tea was an outlet to calm me.
I met with a woman last week who helps operate the headquarter conference center of a relatively new nonprofit in the Philadelphia area. Her father is on the board of directors, but as she assured me, "don't be put off that there's family involved." Quite the contrary, as I assured her, it seemed more beneficial to me to involve family with a matter that requires blood, sweat, and tears like any growing nonprofit needs. Also like stated in my previous post, this time of year, like an organization such as this one, has emotions running high when efforts are composed of such intensity with usually with only a few solid results. I found out yesterday that while the position may not be exactly what was proposed, involvement for me may occur with a foundation by which I am intrigued, and for which I am hopeful in its potential future accomplishments.
Without getting into much about the "could-bes" of the meeting, today was emotionally again a little sluggish. I did some excel-creating with our family's newest budgets and what will be a more budgeted spending allowance for each member. Hopefully that will be something we can continue regardless of what we make, because then what we earn and are able to spend wisely will be more rewarding. I did some people-watching at the ever-bustling mall. Speaking of spending....totally put down some gloriously priced merchandise and bought their images with my eyes, instead! I came home, turned on a repeat of Oprah, and made some hot cinnamon tea.
It was the episode revisiting Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal's epic Love Story from the 1970s. I remembered as much being totally "wowed" by Ali in particular -- she is currently 71 years old and her spirit (and looks, quite frankly) are more vibrant and ubiquitous than many people I know my age or close to it. Oprah was asking her life questions, love questions, media questions, and all of her answers were so incredibly honest. It was clear that her heart dictates her life, and each response or reaction to the interview came from such a real place. Like anyone, she had exclaimed regret and poor life choices, but never denied they built her, or provided her with becoming just that much more authentic.
In one such answer, I was wrapped in the warmth of my tea, and peered down into the mug. With all the occurring moments in that instance, I recognized my mug was nearly empty - seriously not the "half full/half empty" debate - I had about four or five sips of this delicious beverage left :). All of the spices, and cinnamon, and herbs had collected in a pool at the bottom. The flavored water above it was no doubt infused, but the essence of the drink was concentrated in a little cloud on the bottom. I typically just swirl about my drink when this happens; like with hot chocolate, the collection of ingredients reswirled invigorates the end of a lovely, winter-soothing beverage. This time, I kept staring at the brown dots. No movement, just gaze. And I began to envision the tea as my quest for authenticity. To compare myself to anything other than myself, I understand, is not very authentic. But, what inspired me to write this now, was to imagine that the spices were my true self, my energy, and the water above it was my life. For some reason, for some goal, my true spirits have been lately tested. Tested for different things, but most internally relating to a job purpose for myself and my family. I imagined myself standing at the bottom of the mug, peering into the eyes of my husband through the murky liquid, wanting to shout, "Drink me now! I'm pure and spicy! I'm concentrated and sure of myself! If you swirl me about, you're a fool for I will disappear!" Then I thought about that energy swirling around, it became mobilizing in a different way. "Oh! Spin me around! Diffuse me and blend me into the entire being of my life! I will represent the best version of myself as an aura of warmth in every gulp!"
Both scenarios are right. Each version of myself (or tea herbs) is flavorful and my life though unnervingly settled right now, is still full of my spirit. That is what I need to remember. Sometimes to be true, I will need sabbaticals like the professional one I have endured during these past six months. Sometimes, to be authentic, I may need to dispense myself in a million directions. Not for distraction tactics, but to apply myself in many positive outlets. Whatever way I do it, it is not to be judged, but reviewed individually. Different occasions will call for a different personal flavoring, but I hope to keep myself responsible in fulfilling an authentic substance. I hope to gain, by the age of 71 and beyond, life results which are true and comforting alike.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
the king of anything
As this hectic time of holiday seasons are upon us, I feel like everything, and everybody I encounter is supremely on edge. There are families to greet, meet, and entertain. There is food to bake, make, and devour. There are gifts to buy, fly, and wrap. It's no wonder it comes but just once a year!
Don't get me wrong, it's one of my favorite times of year, despite all the mess. Aside from the chaos, there's a reminder of the calm, peaceful transition from one year to the next; it's another break from my new academic schedule until the following semester. The snow is deciding whether or not it wants to fall, and unfortunately until it layers more of a solid blanket on the ground, little Windsor has to succumb to shorter walks because of the freezing cold! The gathering with family is always shortlived in my book, so we try to cram in memory-building boardgames, chilly walks after full meals, and lazying about the house with each other's company. Even the travel and down time before the holidays are appreciated by Mike and myself -- our first Christmas season as a married couple, and we're so happy to continue our own developing traditions: a bigger tree, exchanging budgeted gifts for one another a little early, and hosting our own "holiday" game night with friends tomorrow! We know it's not just the space in our apartment that will keep it a cozy, filling evening, but the friends and food that comfort us on the weekend before we all go our separate ways for Christmas vacation.
When I sat down over a week ago to write this particular blog, I was pretty sure what it was going to be about. The borrowed title of it, "King of Anything" is probably recognizable to some as the new single put out by musician and singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles. The song is in reference to talking against someone who is coming down on her. Someone who thinks they know best and are objectifying anything otherwise. About a week ago, my classes ended. I had not been in one of them for three weeks with the Thanksgiving holiday and the class after turkey-ing was cancelled due to our professor visiting Paris (cest la vie!). So as we mustered up our final thoughts, fifteen-page paper, and thoughtful insights for a final gathering in mid-December, I was surprised at the end result.
In this theories class, we began the semester with our wonderfully vibrant, intelligent professor. She started the term by telling us that if she could be where she is today by earning her Bachelor's, Master's, then Doctorate -- over a thirty year period -- then any of us could do the same. Having not spent much time academically in Psychology courses, this was going to be a great test for me in concluding my decisions to attend school again for a career-worthy pursuit. Fortunately, because of this class and professor, and most of my peers, it proved to me that this is definitely something that I believe is a good choice for my future work. I learned to which prior pioneers in the field I felt most connected, and which styles of counseling would not work for me as a practicing therapist. More importantly, I was eager to attend this class each week because of the carefree, inviting nature of its content; more like group therapy, aside from investigating the different styles of the theories presented, our professor encouraged us to open up about our days, weeks, emotional setbacks and if so inclined, fellow students would best evaluate.
At first, I know, scary! Allowing second-rate, first-time students to delve into your personal life and dissect your feelings? Note: We spoke if we so chose. So, many of us would offer tidbits of distress, or happiness if feeling like good could be shared that night too. Some classmates did not but open their mouths when requested to offer responses (in that case, required by the textbook questions not personal digging). The point was, that it was up to you, then up to the classroom's discretion to interpret and support you. A team effort.
So, much to my dismay, we are ending the final class of this wonderfully interactive semester and our professor notes that two students are missing that evening. She pauses, elaborates on the notion that neither had been in touch with her, no wait, one had been in touch a couple of hours prior saying while late, she would make the class. Turns out, she is absent with less than 45 minutes until departure. Naturally, our professor gets frustrated. Naturally, our professor expresses her frustrations and begins to ask for what reason there is a lack of communication among her graduate-level students. It continues, and as she speaks on, others chime in. Before I knew it, I sat up front and center to the beginnings of what sounded like a debate, and yet all parties involved were saying the same things. They were negotiating arguing tactics for our professor to use when confronting the students. They were expressing their frustrations by the students' absences as if their lack of attendance affected (or should at least affect) them. It was a gossip circle gone bad, and after about 6 or 7 minutes of it, I raised my hand.
"Yes, Carly? My newlywed." (This is often how my professor referred to me -- I'm telling you, she was cute!)
"Well, Dr. So-and-So...I want to say...that I don't see why we are discussing this right now without them here."
"Well, Carly -- would you talk to them for me if you could?"
"If you're asking would I confront them about their absences (it had happened with the same two women a couple times previously in the semsester), then I may be partial to inquiring with them about why they have not come tonight. But I do not see the point in debating about a decision which is ultimately yours. And I would not want to be placed in their shoes, discovering that as soon as a peer of mine came and spoke to me about my absence/neglected work, I would find out that the entire class spoke of me behind my back. I would then feel more than embarrassed and hurt by actions from soon-to-be professionals in a sensitive field."
Pause. More pausing. Unrelenting silence. Oh boy, Carly. Now you've done it. Gone and shot yourself in the foot again. Just about 12 minutes left of the semester, in a class where you've shared, cared, and written about situations like this in relation to clients, and the professor had nothing but positive things to say about your insight, and of your nature. Go ahead, confront her (and the entire class) about what they're doing. Forget the 'A' you planned on.
"Thank you, Carly," said our professor. "You're absolutely right, and I apologize. It is not the place nor time to bring this up. Thank you."
(Phew!) I barely muttered an "it's fine" with rosy cheeks as she apologized, for it was not my intention to make anyone feel badly. It was the exact opposite of this mini-protest. I just felt so inclined to be empathetic and understanding that one's actions, which will not be affecting my own in an academic setting, need no judgment from me. I guess it was a primal act of my counseling efforts in trying to convey gratitude for us to speak our minds, but not to do it with sinister motives. On a personal level with other classmates there, I'm sure I was forseen from here now as a "goody-goody," and they may continue such name-games. There is undoubtedly a competitive nature within school, and the real world in general. If you want to achieve, many of us believe it is relative to those around us. But I guess my heart had spoken in opposition of that myth, and realized I needed to disclose how I felt, and shed light on the fact that it is in fact what we achieve within ourselves that encourages positive growth.
We finished class happily as our professor raved about the local "Stag and Doe" night where stores would be kept open late, and offer wine and cheese in spirit of the holiday shopping. Our final papers landed on her desk in front of her, and when I approached a bit feverishly, she stood up (all 4.5 feet of her) and willfully spread her arms to give me a hug, repeating, "thank you." I simply said, "I understand your frustrations," and smiled with her, leaving my first heartwrenching, thoughtful, challenging course towards my future degree.
Wrapping it up again by the holiday bookends, just remember to be kind. The kind of compassion and generosity should not be set aside for winter months, but it is often when emotions are most magnified. The good and bad are confronted every day, so just aim to stay true to how you would like to be treated in return. Happy Christmas, and will probably be writing again in 2011!
Don't get me wrong, it's one of my favorite times of year, despite all the mess. Aside from the chaos, there's a reminder of the calm, peaceful transition from one year to the next; it's another break from my new academic schedule until the following semester. The snow is deciding whether or not it wants to fall, and unfortunately until it layers more of a solid blanket on the ground, little Windsor has to succumb to shorter walks because of the freezing cold! The gathering with family is always shortlived in my book, so we try to cram in memory-building boardgames, chilly walks after full meals, and lazying about the house with each other's company. Even the travel and down time before the holidays are appreciated by Mike and myself -- our first Christmas season as a married couple, and we're so happy to continue our own developing traditions: a bigger tree, exchanging budgeted gifts for one another a little early, and hosting our own "holiday" game night with friends tomorrow! We know it's not just the space in our apartment that will keep it a cozy, filling evening, but the friends and food that comfort us on the weekend before we all go our separate ways for Christmas vacation.
When I sat down over a week ago to write this particular blog, I was pretty sure what it was going to be about. The borrowed title of it, "King of Anything" is probably recognizable to some as the new single put out by musician and singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles. The song is in reference to talking against someone who is coming down on her. Someone who thinks they know best and are objectifying anything otherwise. About a week ago, my classes ended. I had not been in one of them for three weeks with the Thanksgiving holiday and the class after turkey-ing was cancelled due to our professor visiting Paris (cest la vie!). So as we mustered up our final thoughts, fifteen-page paper, and thoughtful insights for a final gathering in mid-December, I was surprised at the end result.
In this theories class, we began the semester with our wonderfully vibrant, intelligent professor. She started the term by telling us that if she could be where she is today by earning her Bachelor's, Master's, then Doctorate -- over a thirty year period -- then any of us could do the same. Having not spent much time academically in Psychology courses, this was going to be a great test for me in concluding my decisions to attend school again for a career-worthy pursuit. Fortunately, because of this class and professor, and most of my peers, it proved to me that this is definitely something that I believe is a good choice for my future work. I learned to which prior pioneers in the field I felt most connected, and which styles of counseling would not work for me as a practicing therapist. More importantly, I was eager to attend this class each week because of the carefree, inviting nature of its content; more like group therapy, aside from investigating the different styles of the theories presented, our professor encouraged us to open up about our days, weeks, emotional setbacks and if so inclined, fellow students would best evaluate.
At first, I know, scary! Allowing second-rate, first-time students to delve into your personal life and dissect your feelings? Note: We spoke if we so chose. So, many of us would offer tidbits of distress, or happiness if feeling like good could be shared that night too. Some classmates did not but open their mouths when requested to offer responses (in that case, required by the textbook questions not personal digging). The point was, that it was up to you, then up to the classroom's discretion to interpret and support you. A team effort.
So, much to my dismay, we are ending the final class of this wonderfully interactive semester and our professor notes that two students are missing that evening. She pauses, elaborates on the notion that neither had been in touch with her, no wait, one had been in touch a couple of hours prior saying while late, she would make the class. Turns out, she is absent with less than 45 minutes until departure. Naturally, our professor gets frustrated. Naturally, our professor expresses her frustrations and begins to ask for what reason there is a lack of communication among her graduate-level students. It continues, and as she speaks on, others chime in. Before I knew it, I sat up front and center to the beginnings of what sounded like a debate, and yet all parties involved were saying the same things. They were negotiating arguing tactics for our professor to use when confronting the students. They were expressing their frustrations by the students' absences as if their lack of attendance affected (or should at least affect) them. It was a gossip circle gone bad, and after about 6 or 7 minutes of it, I raised my hand.
"Yes, Carly? My newlywed." (This is often how my professor referred to me -- I'm telling you, she was cute!)
"Well, Dr. So-and-So...I want to say...that I don't see why we are discussing this right now without them here."
"Well, Carly -- would you talk to them for me if you could?"
"If you're asking would I confront them about their absences (it had happened with the same two women a couple times previously in the semsester), then I may be partial to inquiring with them about why they have not come tonight. But I do not see the point in debating about a decision which is ultimately yours. And I would not want to be placed in their shoes, discovering that as soon as a peer of mine came and spoke to me about my absence/neglected work, I would find out that the entire class spoke of me behind my back. I would then feel more than embarrassed and hurt by actions from soon-to-be professionals in a sensitive field."
Pause. More pausing. Unrelenting silence. Oh boy, Carly. Now you've done it. Gone and shot yourself in the foot again. Just about 12 minutes left of the semester, in a class where you've shared, cared, and written about situations like this in relation to clients, and the professor had nothing but positive things to say about your insight, and of your nature. Go ahead, confront her (and the entire class) about what they're doing. Forget the 'A' you planned on.
"Thank you, Carly," said our professor. "You're absolutely right, and I apologize. It is not the place nor time to bring this up. Thank you."
(Phew!) I barely muttered an "it's fine" with rosy cheeks as she apologized, for it was not my intention to make anyone feel badly. It was the exact opposite of this mini-protest. I just felt so inclined to be empathetic and understanding that one's actions, which will not be affecting my own in an academic setting, need no judgment from me. I guess it was a primal act of my counseling efforts in trying to convey gratitude for us to speak our minds, but not to do it with sinister motives. On a personal level with other classmates there, I'm sure I was forseen from here now as a "goody-goody," and they may continue such name-games. There is undoubtedly a competitive nature within school, and the real world in general. If you want to achieve, many of us believe it is relative to those around us. But I guess my heart had spoken in opposition of that myth, and realized I needed to disclose how I felt, and shed light on the fact that it is in fact what we achieve within ourselves that encourages positive growth.
We finished class happily as our professor raved about the local "Stag and Doe" night where stores would be kept open late, and offer wine and cheese in spirit of the holiday shopping. Our final papers landed on her desk in front of her, and when I approached a bit feverishly, she stood up (all 4.5 feet of her) and willfully spread her arms to give me a hug, repeating, "thank you." I simply said, "I understand your frustrations," and smiled with her, leaving my first heartwrenching, thoughtful, challenging course towards my future degree.
Wrapping it up again by the holiday bookends, just remember to be kind. The kind of compassion and generosity should not be set aside for winter months, but it is often when emotions are most magnified. The good and bad are confronted every day, so just aim to stay true to how you would like to be treated in return. Happy Christmas, and will probably be writing again in 2011!
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