Shadows and Proprioception

Dear Family and Friends,

What could be better than spending 30 minutes reading through one of my long emails? Spending 2 hours binge watching videos of people experiencing sheer terror from irrational fears is perhaps a close second. My favorite videos are of children who discover their own shadow. It is hilarious watching kids grapple with semi-terror induced by their own shadow that follows their every footstep. They run, stumble, and mutter as they seek help from the nearest adult. They are inconsolable as the laughing adult holding the camera tries to tell them, “it’s just your shadow”. (This is where I give you permission to binge watch 30 minutes of youtube videos on the subject matter at hand.) Ironically, adults are the ones who unconsciously teach children to fear the potential dangers that lurk in the dark. Children are told stories of ghosts, ferbies, trolls, and the boogeyman who live in the shadows of the night, under the bed, and in the back of closets patiently waiting to wreak havoc.

A child’s brain develops rapidly between the ages of 1-5. So much of the world is unknown to them, yet rapidly do new things causing the vast world to become known and familiar. Thus, children tend to outgrow their fears quickly as their brain develops a sense of self-awareness, safety, and ability to overcome things. Children are usually hyper aware of their own shadow only once or twice, and then never pay attention to it again. As they grow older, children develop another sense of self-awareness, proprioception, that allows them to skillfully run, jump, and play more difficult games requiring advance mental and physical coordination. Children continue developing aspects of their identity—values, judgment, sexual desires, independence, and self-esteem—that unfold and reveal a clear picture of who they are.

This month I’ve been thinking about what does it mean to be self-aware. Do I have the self-awareness that I accuse other people of lacking? (Yes, I judge people.)  What does it mean to develop a full sense of self? As always, I’ve come to no conclusions, but I’ve thought through peculiar idiosyncrasies of shadows and proprioception as proxies for self-awareness for this month’s letter.

Shadows are not ‘you’, per se, but they manifest in relation to where you are situated relative to a light source. The sun can produce a fully formed shadow of your body, while incandescent lighting usually produces a translucent cast on the wall.

The significance of shadows is often illuminated in movies and poetry. Shadows were a crucial component in movies produced in the golden era of film noir. Stories were enhanced by the entrance, touch, and exit of eerie shadows. Movie writers, directors, and producers deeply respected and made space for the idea that a person’s shadow is an existential identity of key characters.

Spoken word artist, Jasmine Manns, describes the gravity and impact of shadows in one of her poems poetically recounting a situation where one young man violently murders another young man. She takes a moment to focus on both young men’s mothers. After the incident, one mother is so shaken by the murder that she becomes afraid of her own shadow. The other mother, just as deeply and profoundly wounded, becomes a shadow herself. The tragedy left both women so disoriented there is no way to distinguish the mother of the murdered from the mother of the murderer. While I belly-laugh at children who are afraid of their own shadows, my heart breaks for adults walking through this world afraid of their own shadow or feeling just as empty as a one.

Similar to the experience of a child, adults, too, can focus so intently on their shadow that they begin to act so irrational that it literally and figuratively throws off their balance. A person’s proprioception, the coordination between the mind and body, allows people to move easily, quickly, and effectively throughout the world.  Proprioception is the complex intertwining of sensory, judgement, and control that cumulates into the perception of location, movement, and action. In my nursing practice, sometimes I will ask a patient to stand up, close their eyes, and lift their arms out. I am testing their proprioception and observing if they can maintain their balance without having to rely on visual cues to keep them steady. Proprioception gives us a sense of where we are in the world and how we should move through it.

Children who notice their shadow use a variety of techniques that require a command of proprioception. Well-coordinated children who are deathly afraid of their shadow will do one of two things. First, some children will run. But not just run. Tthey will coordinate running forward while looking back to see if the shadow is still chasing them. Secondly, other children will try and stomp on the shadow. Balancing on one foot, stomping on a shadow that keeps moving as you move, while crying/ screaming at the same time is not as easy as you think. Both types of children are utilizing mechanisms of control. One is searching to preserve self and safety by running from their problems. The other will take it upon their self to annihilate their newly found treacherous enemy by any means necessary. Other kids become so paralyzed by their shadow that all they can do is cry. When asked what is wrong, they look at their shadow in hopes that the adult instinctively knows to make the shadow go away. Usually, the parent laughs because they realize that child’s reaction of fear and terror is disproportionate to the benign existence of their shadow. Thus, the child is continually laughed at until they can’t cry anymore or they are distracted from their shadow.

I’m sorry, did I say kids? I can’t remember if I’m talking about kids or adults any more.

 While most adult problems aren’t as benign as recognizing a shadow, people spend an exuberant amount of time focusing on the shadows of life while missing the beautiful day. Shadows, in this letter, are empty things such as fear, worry, vulnerability, helplessness, concern, apprehension, anxiety, and uncertainty. This is not a dismissal of emotions—I respect every experience we feel—but just like your shadow, those emotions exist, yet are incapable of hurting you. Each person decides to focus on their shadow or not. Each person determines the importance of their shadow.

Not everyone is afraid of their shadow.

Some kids love shadows. They find amusement, sparked by a sense of wonder and curiosity, when they recognize that they can interact with the vague animated form on the wall or ground. They will play with their hands and create shadow puppets. They dance with their shadows. One of my favorite games growing up was called shadow. (O.k. I’m calling the game ‘shadow’ for the purpose of my letter.) One person was the leader and the other person, the shadow, had to mimic everything the leader did. If the leader did the funky chicken dance, the shadow did the funky chicken dance. It was equally fun being both the leader and the shadow. Actually, it was probably more fun being the shadow.

Some adults move towards their shadow. Julia Cameron describes shadow artist as adults who choose a career and lifestyle that pays the bills and hits all of the traditional heteronormative responsibilities, yet secretively desire to be an artist. They spend their entire life supporting the arts or hanging out with other artists, wishing they would have pursued an art-centered life for themselves. Other adults do shadow work. Shadow work is an intense delve into your inner-self, the id. Other adults take junk, mold and shape it with care and intention, to create extraordinary pieces of art. (This is kind of random, but I’m reminded of one of my favorite quotes: All of the beauty in life is made up of shadows and light.)

As adults, making peace with your shadow—which becomes more or less illuminated depending on whatever you are going through—gives us better proprioception. The self-awareness from both allows us to move more easily through the world and provides intentionality to the spaces and places we fill. You become a little bit more balanced and you stop running from the things you just need to accept. You grow comfortable with darkness and the areas that have been touched by the light. This process is the same as experienced by a child, once afraid of the dark,  who eventually feels more secure in their room—with or without the lights on.

  In my concluding thought—which I can’t figure out how this fits in with the rest of what I wrote—is that even if your shadows become too much, remember that what we call a ‘shadow’ is no different from ‘shade’ cast by a tree that provides reprieve from the sun.

Shadows and Proprioception

Dear Family and Friends,

What could be better than spending 30 minutes reading through one of my long emails? Spending 2 hours binge watching videos of people experiencing sheer terror from irrational fears is perhaps a close second. My favorite videos are of children who discover their own shadow. It is hilarious watching kids grapple with semi-terror induced by their own shadow that follows their every footstep. They run, stumble, and mutter as they seek help from the nearest adult. They are inconsolable as the laughing adult holding the camera tries to tell them, “it’s just your shadow”. (This is where I give you permission to binge watch 30 minutes of youtube videos on the subject matter at hand.) Ironically, adults are the ones who unconsciously teach children to fear the potential dangers that lurk in the dark. Children are told stories of ghosts, ferbies, trolls, and the boogeyman who live in the shadows of the night, under the bed, and in the back of closets patiently waiting to wreak havoc.

A child’s brain develops rapidly between the ages of 1-5. So much of the world is unknown to them, yet rapidly do new things causing the vast world to become known and familiar. Thus, children tend to outgrow their fears quickly as their brain develops a sense of self-awareness, safety, and ability to overcome things. Children are usually hyper aware of their own shadow only once or twice, and then never pay attention to it again. As they grow older, children develop another sense of self-awareness, proprioception, that allows them to skillfully run, jump, and play more difficult games requiring advance mental and physical coordination. Children continue developing aspects of their identity—values, judgment, sexual desires, independence, and self-esteem—that unfold and reveal a clear picture of who they are.

This month I’ve been thinking about what does it mean to be self-aware. Do I have the self-awareness that I accuse other people of lacking? (Yes, I judge people.)  What does it mean to develop a full sense of self? As always, I’ve come to no conclusions, but I’ve thought through peculiar idiosyncrasies of shadows and proprioception as proxies for self-awareness for this month’s letter.

Shadows are not ‘you’, per se, but they manifest in relation to where you are situated relative to a light source. The sun can produce a fully formed shadow of your body, while incandescent lighting usually produces a translucent cast on the wall.

The significance of shadows is often illuminated in movies and poetry. Shadows were a crucial component in movies produced in the golden era of film noir. Stories were enhanced by the entrance, touch, and exit of eerie shadows. Movie writers, directors, and producers deeply respected and made space for the idea that a person’s shadow is an existential identity of key characters.

Spoken word artist, Jasmine Manns, describes the gravity and impact of shadows in one of her poems poetically recounting a situation where one young man violently murders another young man. She takes a moment to focus on both young men’s mothers. After the incident, one mother is so shaken by the murder that she becomes afraid of her own shadow. The other mother, just as deeply and profoundly wounded, becomes a shadow herself. The tragedy left both women so disoriented there is no way to distinguish the mother of the murdered from the mother of the murderer. While I belly-laugh at children who are afraid of their own shadows, my heart breaks for adults walking through this world afraid of their own shadow or feeling just as empty as a one.

Similar to the experience of a child, adults, too, can focus so intently on their shadow that they begin to act so irrational that it literally and figuratively throws off their balance. A person’s proprioception, the coordination between the mind and body, allows people to move easily, quickly, and effectively throughout the world.  Proprioception is the complex intertwining of sensory, judgement, and control that cumulates into the perception of location, movement, and action. In my nursing practice, sometimes I will ask a patient to stand up, close their eyes, and lift their arms out. I am testing their proprioception and observing if they can maintain their balance without having to rely on visual cues to keep them steady. Proprioception gives us a sense of where we are in the world and how we should move through it.

Children who notice their shadow use a variety of techniques that require a command of proprioception. Well-coordinated children who are deathly afraid of their shadow will do one of two things. First, some children will run. But not just run. Tthey will coordinate running forward while looking back to see if the shadow is still chasing them. Secondly, other children will try and stomp on the shadow. Balancing on one foot, stomping on a shadow that keeps moving as you move, while crying/ screaming at the same time is not as easy as you think. Both types of children are utilizing mechanisms of control. One is searching to preserve self and safety by running from their problems. The other will take it upon their self to annihilate their newly found treacherous enemy by any means necessary. Other kids become so paralyzed by their shadow that all they can do is cry. When asked what is wrong, they look at their shadow in hopes that the adult instinctively knows to make the shadow go away. Usually, the parent laughs because they realize that child’s reaction of fear and terror is disproportionate to the benign existence of their shadow. Thus, the child is continually laughed at until they can’t cry anymore or they are distracted from their shadow.

I’m sorry, did I say kids? I can’t remember if I’m talking about kids or adults any more.

 While most adult problems aren’t as benign as recognizing a shadow, people spend an exuberant amount of time focusing on the shadows of life while missing the beautiful day. Shadows, in this letter, are empty things such as fear, worry, vulnerability, helplessness, concern, apprehension, anxiety, and uncertainty. This is not a dismissal of emotions—I respect every experience we feel—but just like your shadow, those emotions exist, yet are incapable of hurting you. Each person decides to focus on their shadow or not. Each person determines the importance of their shadow.

Not everyone is afraid of their shadow.

Some kids love shadows. They find amusement, sparked by a sense of wonder and curiosity, when they recognize that they can interact with the vague animated form on the wall or ground. They will play with their hands and create shadow puppets. They dance with their shadows. One of my favorite games growing up was called shadow. (O.k. I’m calling the game ‘shadow’ for the purpose of my letter.) One person was the leader and the other person, the shadow, had to mimic everything the leader did. If the leader did the funky chicken dance, the shadow did the funky chicken dance. It was equally fun being both the leader and the shadow. Actually, it was probably more fun being the shadow.

Some adults move towards their shadow. Julia Cameron describes shadow artist as adults who choose a career and lifestyle that pays the bills and hits all of the traditional heteronormative responsibilities, yet secretively desire to be an artist. They spend their entire life supporting the arts or hanging out with other artists, wishing they would have pursued an art-centered life for themselves. Other adults do shadow work. Shadow work is an intense delve into your inner-self, the id. Other adults take junk, mold and shape it with care and intention, to create extraordinary pieces of art. (This is kind of random, but I’m reminded of one of my favorite quotes: All of the beauty in life is made up of shadows and light.)

As adults, making peace with your shadow—which becomes more or less illuminated depending on whatever you are going through—gives us better proprioception. The self-awareness from both allows us to move more easily through the world and provides intentionality to the spaces and places we fill. You become a little bit more balanced and you stop running from the things you just need to accept. You grow comfortable with darkness and the areas that have been touched by the light. This process is the same as experienced by a child, once afraid of the dark,  who eventually feels more secure in their room—with or without the lights on.

  In my concluding thought—which I can’t figure out how this fits in with the rest of what I wrote—is that even if your shadows become too much, remember that what we call a ‘shadow’ is no different from ‘shade’ cast by a tree that provides reprieve from the sun.

Gardens and Magnum Opus

Dear family and friends,

 

I’ve forgotten how to be a writer. Maybe not completely forgotten, but sitting at the computer feels foreign because I haven’t had to do my usual excessive amount of writing in a long time. I’m deeply appreciative of this process, which I’ve taken for granted, of letting my mind roam as my fingers chase after it. I’m reminded as to why I sit here and disentangle my thoughts on “paper”. The seconds, the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, the years just come and go so quickly. What a wonderful opportunity it is to be able to reflect on life, in the midst of life, as I grapple with the question: Are my best days behind me? Cheers to turning 30.

 

I’m always searching for an event, a memory, or something I read to spark some profound insight of pure genius to include in these letters. I’m still searching; however, this letter is late and I must write something. This month’s inspiration in my little garden.

 

By no means would any reasonable person call my humble set-up and actual garden. I live in a little apartment and I lack a green thumb. After killing everything that they say is nearly impossible to kill — bamboo, aloe, succulents– my garden consists of an air plant, a bonsai tree, and an empty greenhouse that will one day house my indoor herbs. It sounds pathetic, but I love this little corner of space filled with life. I know one day I will graduate to potted plants. I may even move to a home that has a place to put seeds in the dirt one day.

 

My little garden represents my entire existence.  It is representative of my boundaries, responsibilities, aesthetic appreciation, and what I hope to manifest in the world.

 

Every literal and figurative garden has permeable boundaries. Gardens are unique to each owner, and its boundaries are clearly demarcated. Go for a walk in any neighborhood and you’ll find fences or a change in landscape serving as a property line separating one person’s home from their neighbor’s. Property lines only exist because both neighbors agree to social norms acknowledging the existence of said imaginary line. Thus, all borders, walls, barriers, boundaries and property lines are either imaginary or only have significance if people accept that boundaries and borders serve a purpose.

 

Gardens show us the different ways the personal boundaries we build have no real meaning outside of social cooperation. We are all dependent on the interconnectedness of all of life, despite the imaginary boundaries that we erect. For instance, if the soil on your neighbor’s side of the fence is unhealthy, so will be yours. Boundaries only mark the gardener’s comfort zone of where they feel safe and would feel comfortably imprisoned should they build their walls high.

 

When I think of a gardener, I think of a little old grandma with her shears singing to her plants and pruning away the unhealthy parts of the plants. There is a certain level of responsibility to provide adequate fertilizer, consistent water, and to apply techniques to prevent the infestation of critters and weeds. However, she also benefits from everything in the ecosystem– worms, pollinators, good climate, etc– simply existing so that her garden can thrive. There are things outside of her control, yet she should care about and actively support the health of, that is good for both her, her garden, and her neighborhood. The principles of gardening exhibit the underlying  responsibility in creating a more just and humane society. As we work on making our own garden beautiful we can consider our responsibility to positively contribute to our greater community.

 

I’ve learned how to connect and apply responsible (life) gardening tips from two people. First, in an environmental health class taught by Dr. Barbara Sattler, she pointed out the irony of spraying poison, particularly round up and other pesticides, on your living garden. It doesn’t make your plant or soil healthier, nor does it work for the complete elimination of pest. A better alternative is to apply integrated pest management techniques- using plants native to the region, increasing the diversity of your plants, and taking care and enriching the soil just as much as you do the flowers- to keep the pest away. In other words, you are better off learning from and cooperating with nature rather than trying to poison the Earth. Similarly, the brilliant Dr. Camara Jones provides an allegory in the Gardener’s Tale describing how we are all gardeners who are responsible for addressing the systemic toxicity of racism on health and wellness. There is a parallel of being a good steward of the land and being a decent human being.

 

Gardens can teach us we don’t have to own everything to appreciate things. One of my favorite things to do when I travel to new cities is to visit botanical gardens. I can walk around the garden for hours and feel good around the flowers with feeling like I have to own it to appreciate the curating and landscaping. That doesn’t hold true for most other things. For instance, my closet is filled with a lot of clothes that I don’t actually wear, but I feel the need to keep it in my possession. Most of the clothes decorate my closet more so than my body. Possessing items clearly does not equal appreciating those items. Strolling through botanical gardens is one of the few times I take pleasure in simply seeing something beautiful and knowing that its existence is more important than taking possession of it. I wonder how much different life would be if I applied that to other areas of my life.

 

The point of curating a garden is to produce a tangible representation of who you are to achieve some level of accomplishment. Many people do this figuratively through work, hobbies, art, writing, etc. They might produce lots of things, but there may be one statement piece, their magnum opus, which becomes their masterpiece that stands out beyond the rest. Its similar to the author who may have one iconic book that became a bestseller and 20 other books that never gained the same popularity.

 

Mozart, Nina Simone, Frida Kahlo, Langston Hughes, Lorraine Hansberry, and many, many others embody the spirit of those who mastered their craft and produced their magnum opus– their greatest work of art, activism, literature, or music that has profoundly touched the lives of millions of people across generations. Just as with gardening, the magnum opus represents the pinnacle of boundaries, responsibilities, aesthetic appreciation, and producing.

 

To produce something worth considering a magnum opus requires having permeable boundaries. The difference between people who become famous and those who produce something meaningful in the world are keenly aware of the environment in which their garden is growing and what they need to produce to make the world better. They are creators that have transcended the bounds of their comfort zones and imaginary boundaries to create art that touches people beyond their inner circle. They simultaneously erect new standards and demolish stifling boundaries in different aspects of their crafts — they are clearly in a league of their own. Actively challenging established norms and breaking down barriers separates those who change the world from those who are just popular in the world.

 

To truly create one’s magnum opus, there is a consistent level of discipline, responsibility and accountability to seeing the end product come into fruition. I know it sounds cliche, but many people want to bypass the journey and get to the end result. The process of creating the magnum opus will vary widely. What is true, regardless of circumstance, is that the magnum opus reflects  the process and dedication it took to manifest it into the world.

 

In conclusion, I started writing this letter in order to figure out if my best days are behind me. Am I just sitting in my garden of life because I’ve already created my magnum opus? Am I going to just pay bills, pay down my student loans, pay taxes, and repeat for the next 50 years?

 

Possibly. At least I can say I love my garden.

 

We are all continually building physical and metaphorical gardens. Gardens will never die as long as the gardener is attentive to it. It will constantly produce and manifest beautiful, creative, useful, transformative ideas, products, art, relationships, dreams, businesses, and whatever you desire to put forth into this world. The magnum opus is just a singular product of the garden, not the purpose of building the garden.

 

Mozart, Nina Simone, Frida Kahlo, Langston Hughes, and Lorraine Hansberry were relatively popular when they were alive, but the posthumous appreciation of their body of work eclipsed  the popularity they had experienced in life. I wonder if they lived their life chasing their magnum opus instead of sitting in the garden of their artistic expression. Probably so– activist and artist rarely find contentment. In general, most people passively develop beautiful gardens they never fully appreciate because they focus too hard on the weeds and the absence of the magnum opus.

 

If you look at their careers you would believe you only get one magnum opus per lifetime. However, I disagree. We are allowed to evolve and live many different chapters in life, each having its own magnum opus of that time period. I saw this quote the other day: Evolve so hard that people have to get to know you again. I would modify it to say: Evolve so hard that even you have to get to know yourself again. We are allowed to consciously and actively renew our gardens whenever we want so that we can produce whatever we want. We are allowed to change with the seasons of life, and in each season of life we are allowed to work on and produce a new Magnum Opus.

I leave you with these parting words: “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

River and Hagar

Many people perform or participate in a rite of passage ceremony during the month of June. This warm month is the start of a new season where people shed one identity to pick up another. Students across the nation will don a cap and gown to cross a stage representing their transition from one stage of life to another. June marks the beginning of wedding season where two people will commit to becoming one. Other less ceremonious, yet significant, life events tend to occur more often in June than any other month. People across the nation are packing up their homes and moving on to their next chapter. Others see June as the perfect month to retire—to start off this new life stage with a much needed vacation. Society doesn’t give much credit to the month of June. Everyone sees January as the perfect opportunity to tout ‘New year, new me’. However, there is something about being at the mid-year point that prompts us to take stock of where we are physically and emotionally. MTV used to air a show called I Used to be Fat where high schoolers would spend their summer vacation transforming their self internally and externally so they could start the next school year off in a physically and emotionally different body.

People spend a lot of time anticipating and preparing for the climax of the ceremony or the celebration—when the graduate’s name is called, the PhD student passes their qualifying exam, the couple says, ‘I do’, or the person hands over (or receives new) house keys. We tend to live for and place great meaning on these moments filled with excitement, photographs, and accolades as the person rides off into the sunset of life’s bliss.

While there is much to be said about any of the numerous rites of passages ceremonies, this month I’m going to focus on what happens right after. Unlike any and all of the disney movies that poison people’s minds, there is no such thing as ‘happily ever after’. We hold ceremonies to publicize that someone has accomplished something meaningful in life… and then they start all over with a regular day until the next big accomplishment. This month’s letter is dedicated to the regular days immediately following the rite of passage ceremony in terms of rivers and Hagar.

River

Rivers essentially start from nothing. Perhaps a heavy snowmelt or rainfall at the top a hill or a mountain accumulates a significant amount of water. Water finds a place in an otherwise barren area and begins to flow downhill until it is eventually recognized as what we would call a river. People don’t really see this process in real time because most of people don’t hang out in the middle of nowhere waiting to watch a river form. Also, most rivers are pretty well-established and the formation of new rivers don’t occur that often. Depending on the season, newly formed rivers have one of two fates. First, it may dry up and cease to exist. Or, secondly, the river can grow. Rivers grow as tributaries drain into the main water channel adding more volume to the river, or the rivers keeps flowing and amasses in size until it either reaches another body of water (e.g. a lake, an ocean, or another river). Either way, rivers keep flowing downward until it reaches its predetermined fate.

Hagar

There are many stories of Black women in the Bible who were outright gangsta or had extraordinary intimate relationship with God. Hagar is one such women. (I’ll probably write more about her in another letter because her story is complex, traumatic, and for months I’ve been trying to write about her in such a way that would do her story justice). The short version of Hagar’s story was that she was black slave who was raped, abused, and tormented by her enslavers, Abraham and Sarah.  Out of the sexual violence inflicted against her body, she became pregnant and was forced to produce an heir for Abraham. Hagar was in complete distress and decided to escape her captors. She made the choice that she would rather die out in the unknown—she had no money, refuge, or possibility of starting over as a pregnant black women in a strange land—then to stay with Abraham and Sarah.

Hagar’s rite of passage happened when God met her in the wilderness when she was nearly about to die of starvation. In this profound place of brokenness, she names God – which is a big deal—El Roi, He sees me. Also, Hagar is 1 of 4 people to make a direct covenant, an unbreakable promise, with God.

This is the part of the story I struggle with. After the intense time with God in the wilderness where God promises she would be extremely blessed and fruitful, God commands a Hagar to return back to her place of imprisonment. I’ll spare you the sermon. What is important to note—even if you consider the Bible as just historical text—for those who believe she made a covenant with God has extraordinary implications on what is going on to this day. When Hagar returned back, she bore Abraham’s son, Ishmael. Not only did Hagar have a son, Sarah did too, Issac, after at least 90 years of being childless. And because of these two children, this would create two lineages of people that would continue to this day war over who are the rightful heirs of Abraham and who is promised God’s Holy land.

After the Rite of Passage

So, the point of this year’s theme of letters to pick topics that don’t necessarily go together. Clearly these two don’t go together, but I’m going to try and make it work. Both rivers and Hagar represent the process of new starts; however, one moves farther away while the other returns to the starting point.

I originally chose river, not because of an actual river, but because of a song titled, ‘River’. (Stop what you are doing and watch the video.) I randomly saw a docu-commercial detailing how the back-up singer, Brittni Jessie, joined Leon Bridges. She was living the uncertain artist life when she got a call from a casual acquaintance, Leon Bridges, asking if she could sing back-up for the demo version of this song. She agreed as long as he paid her in tacos. The opportunity came up and she literally flowed with it. The song and album has had much success; I’m sure she isn’t getting paid in tacos anymore.

River depicts the journey of getting ‘there’. Getting there imperfect. Incomplete. Weary. Shameful. Open. Receptive and ready for redemption. When the main character gets ‘there’ the river itself is this ceremonial baptism of rejuvenation/ redemption/ of something just (sigh) gorgeous.

Yet, Hagar made a similar journey out into the unknown and had one of the most intimate and profound encounters with God. Yet, she returned back to the broken and abusive place where she started. However, she didn’t return the same as she left. She returned with one of the most significant Biblical promises directly from God.

 I’m reminded of a friend who had been living on her own for 10 years only to have to return home across the country. At her goodbye party, we all took turns saying why this friend was one of the most beautiful souls that any of us had every met. I remember one of her friends speaking to the murky feelings returning home sooner than expected. I don’t remember the exact words, and I regret not recording it, but it was something along the lines of how we never return home the same way we left home. Its tough being a new person in an oddly familiar place.

In Conclusion     

Like rivers and Hagar, we take chances as we move forward. While some rivers run barren, others flow and connect to a greater source. Similarly, returning home sooner than anticipated is a loaded experience. Just having a place to return home and what that means in terms of getting on your own feet or helping someone else do the same can be equally challenging and rewarding (… probably more challenging). Actually, what does returning home truly mean?

A Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, suggest that you can never step foot in the same river twice. In other words, maybe just as rivers are constantly changing, and we are constantly changing, perhaps home is never the same either.

Honestly, transitioning is a complicated time. People are probably feeling lots of emotion, and some of those emotions conflict with one another yet co-exist in that person’s experience of their experience. And sometimes, some people just don’t feel anything until it hits them like a ton of bricks later. As we prepare for wedding and graduation season, I encourage you to use ‘I’ statements. For example, I’m so proud of you versus you should feel proud of yourself.

Position vs Function

Dear Family and Friends,

At the tender age 16, I felt so professional at my first job as a merchandise demonstrator. I cheerfully stood behind a makeshift cardboard table and asked grocery shoppers passing by, “Do you want to try a sample of (whatever product I had to hand out that day)?” The enthusiasm for that job quickly waned. Luckily, 10 years later, I would be in a career that is a little bit more exciting than handing out samples of yogurt.

I was simply filling a position in my first job, but now I function– somewhat awkwardly and unsure—as a nurse.

Nursing is my calling and profession. I am constantly growing personally, professionally, and spiritually. I am cultivating critical thinking skills while practicing compassionate care that keeps me deeply engaged with people who have been ostracized, stigmatized, and marginalized by society. To say nursing is a challenge is an understatement; however, I’m extremely proud of making the world a teeny-tiny bit better.

Position vs Functioning

Position (puh-zish-uhn): 1) a condition with reference to place, location, or situation; 2) a place occupied or to be occupied; 3) a situation or condition, especially with relation to favorable or unfavorable circumstances.

My philosophical definition of ‘position’ is the feeling of being anchored to a unfavorable job, place, or state of being. It is to physically or emotionally fulfill obligations without an emotional, professional, intellectual, or comparable restitution. Being in a position is stagnant state of well-being and development. Being stuck in a position takes more from the occupant than it returns; it is a space void of opportunities to generate growth and creativity.

Function (fuhngk-shuh n): 1) the kind of action or activity proper to a person, thing, or institution; the purpose for which something is designed or exists; role; 2) to perform a specified action or activity; work; operate.

To function socially is an active process of giving and receiving, growing and evolving, breaking down and reconstructing for improvement. It is an energetic exchange between the person and environment to produce something of value and worth for the betterment of society. To function is to thrive.

I write these letters to make sense of a nonsensical world. This letter, in particular, came out of a need to pause from all of the noise and the busyness and discern if I am currently filling a position or if I am functioning optimally. Sometimes occupying a position and functioning within a physical or emotional space feels exactly the same.  Being in a position can feel obligatory and important, yet hollow; while functioning may bring forth positive growth and change that is preceeded by disquiet and uncertainty.

Connecting the Dots

I’ve had 12 other jobs—numerous office jobs, caring for children, caring for adults with intellectual and physical disabilities, and saving the environment—between my first job and starting a nursing career. While some of the in-between jobs were extraordinary experiences (shout to reg staff ’08!) and others far from it, I recognize that those jobs were spaces and places I occupied for only a season. I picked up many ‘soft’ skills in each of those jobs that instilled qualities of being a good care provider that couldn’t be taught in nursing school.

Steve Jobs described how all disjointed life experiences are singular ‘dots’ in your life journey. As you gain more experience, wisdom, and hindsight—similar to the childhood activity of connecting the dots to reveal a beautiful picture—the meaning and connections between experiences slowly begin to emerge.

I function as a writer, a healer, and a creator. That’s how my dots connect.

A ‘position’ is to ‘job’ as ‘functioning’ is to ‘career’

Positions are relatively temporary delineated spaces while functioning transcends different places and space throughout time. A job (or a position) is for a specific reason (e.g. to pay bills) or season of your life or (such as being a camp counselor in your college years… and, yes, I was a camp counselor).

The way you function (often, but not always, visible by a career choice) reflects a personal identity or experience. By profession, I am ‘nurse’ whether I am currently working in that role or not. People attribute certain aspects to my personal character that they associate to their perceptions of the nursing profession (e.g. caring, multi-tasker, or superhero). I’m always reminded of this when I explain my job as an occupational health nurse practitioner providing healthcare services for people working in sex trades. Many of you—my well-meaning, good intention friends—attribute worse characteristics towards people in the sex industry (or paint sex workers as victims of society) than you do for people in the healthcare industry.

Society often discounts and treats large segments of society as disposable because of the type of labor they provide: sex workers, migrant workers, low-wage workers, people who do heavy labor or dirty jobs, etc. Assigning value to people’s lives based on the amount of money the make is the most disgusting consequence of capitalism. All labor is valuable, because all people are valuable. You may disagree. However, I challenge you to encourage people to strive to find jobs and careers that provide a meaningful sense of fulfillment, and to simultaneously challenge all instances where workers are treated inhumanely and/or being cheated a living wage. But I digress. The point is how we function in this world goes beyond the work we are compensated for.

As I conclude this long letter, I’m reminded of a magazine article where Sandra Oh described her decision to walk away from playing the character, Christina Yang, on the TV show Grey’s Anatomy. Sandra Oh had achieved what every actor dreams of. She was well-respected and well-compensated to play a role that didn’t type-cast her into Asian stereotypes or limit future acting roles. She left the show with no scandal, no drama, no creative differences or salary disputes. She was just ready to go. She cried, she prayed, she went to lots of therapy because she knew it was time.

Sandra Oh epitomizes the key differences between being in a position versus fully functioning. To be in a position is to be stuck or bound by obligations to internal or external pressures. To function in any role/ career/ identity/ etc. is an expression of freedom. To function is to actively become a better person and to be prepared to move on when the time is right. Honestly, I hope that I always have enough faith and courage to walk away from anything that no longer serves its purpose.

Happy (Belated) May Day—International Worker’s Day—acknowledging and celebrating all of the advancements birthed out of the labor movement!

As always, I love hearing from you. I want to know: What was your first/ worse/ or best job? Or, what was your first real job that started your career path? What is your dream job (if you aren’t already doing it

Thump It and Kintsugi

Dear Family and Friends,

When I was little, there were two options of finding comfort after I got hurt from playing outside. The first option, the ideal option, was to run inside and show my mom where I hurt myself. She would lovingly place a band-aid on any real or imagined cut or bruise. She would always ask me, “Do want me to kiss it?” Of course! Kisses were the most powerful healing magical potion in the entire world. The second option was to run inside and show my dad if, and only if, my mom wasn’t home. He, too, would offer me band-aids for visible wounds and help me clean up the blood if necessary. Unlike my mom, if there were no noticeable wounds, he would acknowledge my pain by asking me, “Do you want me to thump it?” In other words, he would flick my wound. I would reluctantly say ‘yes’ before he would thump my wound and flick the hurt away. The world would align back to its rightful order and I would be magically healed.

My mom’s approach demonstrated the power of being touched through the expression of kindness.

Looking back, I don’t know what type of old-time country logic made my dad think that wounds should be thumped. However, old-time country logic, the knowledge of the sages, and the wisdom of the ancestors achieved healing in a manner that reached the essence of any problem.

For example, the timeworn Japanese art of Kintsugi is the  handicraft of  repairing broken ceramic pottery by adhering the fragmented pieces back together with  gold proxy. Kintsugi takes something that has been damaged, acknowledges the flaws, and reconstructs the item using a precious mineral. The item is restored back to its recognizable form and is now sufficiently functional to accomplish its original purpose.

Where ‘thump it’ is the way in which we try to address pain, Kintsugi is the choice to move forward with broken pieces.

I grew up in (and now practice a more progressive form of)  Christianity where touching and laying hands on people and situations is a pillar of our faith.  The declaration of faith before God and humankind is marked by a baptismal ceremony where someone who has dedicated their life to following Christ lays their hands on you and submerges you in water. You just can’t dive into a pool and say you are baptized. Touching is required. Additionally, we often assert that, “If I can just touch the hem of Christ’s garment…” as an expression of having faith that even the worst life circumstances have the power to transform through touch and connection.

Touching people is a manifestation of an aspect of my faith and culture.

In one of my favorite spoken word performances that describes the blackity black experience of being the descendants of people of the sun and of the Earth, there is this line, “it was never about the singing of songs, but the sound and the laying on of hands”.

Even though my dad’s stereotypical “strong man” approach to dealing with a crying child with an invisible bruise was to thump the wound, his ‘thumping’  was just as affectionate as my mom’s kisses. (FYI: he is on my mailing list but I know he doesn’t read these so I’m going to talk about him.) He had to pause from his busy day (or TV show), take into consideration mys exaggerated pain, and lay his hands on my hurt until the pain went away.

Now that I’m getting older, and life is getting a little bit more complicated, I’m often trying to figure out how to fix broken things and mend brokenness—for myself and for others.

How do you lay your hands on depression? How do you thump away abandonment? How do kiss hopelessness? Does your touch matter to areas of someone’s life that feels numb—or even dead—to the touch? How do you address people’s behaviors when they are really acting out of hurt and distress? How do you hold onto something (or someone) that is resistant to being touched, seen, felt, or heard? Do your hands lift up or tear things apart?

My dad’s actions showed that the intention behind the healer matters more than the touch itself. No one wants to be thumped, in addition to being in pain, but I knew my dad wouldn’t intentionally inflict additional harm when I was already feeling vulnerable.

My father wasn’t just thumping my wound. He had to embrace my body to get to the wounded area. He spent time telling me that I was going to be alright and that I should go back to doing whatever I was doing (presumably whatever caused me pain) so that he could get back to his peace and quiet. I allowed my dad to flick my pain because we had a established a relationship where  I trusted that him thumping my wound would be just as healing as a kiss.

A practitioner’s touch reveals a lot about them. You can tell the difference between a student’s touch (hesitant, slow, thorough, and unsure) from that of a seasoned practitioner (quick, steady, and a lot less painful).

What does your touch convey to others? Gentleness? Caring? Flirtation? Force? Power? Absurdness? Hesitancy?

What broken things are you willing to lay your hands on? And what do you do with the broken pieces once they are in your hands?

There is a difference between broken pieces and a completely shattered vessel. Broken items are fixable. It takes time, it takes undivided attention, and there is a process that must be followed.

As a novice potter, I’ve made about 20 ceramic vessels in my high school days. (Some of you may have one of those ancient relics in your home still.)  It’s a very therapeutic activity to lay your hands on, shape, and mold clay. To make a bowl, or any other item, it takes at least two weeks before you can take home a finished product.  It goes through two firing processes in a kiln that changes the chemical nature of malleable clay to heavy and hardened ceramic. If you break a ceramic item, you can’t just use more clay to stick the old pieces back together. Clay  has not endured the firing process that originally cemented —the now broken— ceramic vessel.

Similarly, I hear people when they say there is something broken in their life is broken, or worse, life itself feels broken. They have an open space where they need to be touched through the expression of kindness/ solidarity/ redemption/ silence/ love/ forgiveness/ understanding/ truthfulness/ release/ peace. That is the Kintsugi gold proxy for humans. It is  body’s inclination to fill the gaps, the fractures, the holes, the voids, the chasms, and ruptures of our life with health sustaining nourishment, people, and relationships. Broken things that have been touched and given careful attention come out as beautiful mosaics and Kintsugi art. Shattered things must be discarded.

We all have areas in our lives that need to be thumped. What in your life is sensitive to touch? What do you prohibit others from touching or seeing? What needs to be gently nudged and awakened?

We all have something to contribute to each other’s lives. We are all thumpers and Kintsugi artist.

So, writing every month about two random things may or may not be necessary, but hearing from you each month is.  All my old posts are collected here: fearwaslastseason.wordpress.com.

Until next month,