Wanting It All and Not Wanting To Wait

Back in November, I had my heart set on a car, a house, graduate school, and living happily ever after. I told Phil that if I could have it all, I would be driving my car towards our house into the the sunset of school success and family support. Or something like that. Basically, I was having a really hard time accepting that I couldn't just check off all of the items from my dream list with one single stroke.

Life isn't always like that. Sometimes it is a journey, whether that fits with our plans or not.

With school and the car taken care of, my sights have been set on the house. Then, there was a kink in the road. I just received some news that indicates that the loan that we qualified for, might not be what secures us the house. My mom says that the appraisal resulted in a higher interest rate than she was expecting. This means that we need more money up front than we were originally planning on. The amount needed pushes the house outside of our affordable range.

This is tough. I had my heart set on this house and all that it represented. House in the clouds shit.

So, what can I do here? Give up on the dream of the house or sit tight and look for other options? The reality is that I have gotten really good at dealing with the hurdles that life throws at me. I know that this whole ordeal has been a test of my heart and strength. I told my partner, Phil, and my sister, Heather, that I'm not stressed yet. I'm not stressed because I believe that this is the house for us. I don't want to give up hope yet and I believe that there has to be another way to make this happen.

From my experience, there has always been another way. Or, at the very least, this journey has taught me that though my plans don't always determine the course of the road, I need to keep hoping and dreaming just the same.

Trinity Mountains outside of Arcata http://www.wilderness.net/NWPS/enlargeAndDetails?id=2499

Finding the Way

It's been some time since I was last writing and I think that it has been because of all of the difficulties in finding my way. I just chuckled as I reread my blog title. Isn't that what this is supposed to be about?

In the more recent past, I found myself in a small town in California, working at a gear store, moving constantly and unsure of the meaning of my life. Why so disorienting? Well, I've always seemed to have some sort of plan. I'm not saying I haven't had hopes concerning where I might be moving towards, but in the last couple of years, I have been changing the nature of things.

I discovered a couple of simple things: I want to grow things from the ground, climb, cultivate meaningful relationships, pursue education and be a good person.

Interestingly enough, when I moved to Thailand I also outlined a couple of simple dreams: live on an island, eat spicy food, use my degree and climb.

Comparatively, both moves were leaps of faith. Phil and I didn't know what we would find when we settled in Arcata and we absolutely didn't find what we were looking for. Nothing went according to plan. Then, everything seemed to fit as if following some kind of plan. Shocking. We both found jobs. Phil began attending Humboldt State University (HSU). I started volunteer coaching the debate team on campus. Phil started competing on the debate team and turned out to be amazing. (No surprise from me.) I applied to HSU's masters program and met amazing people who had connections to my past. These people ended up being important links, resulting in my acceptance. However, as much as these events have appeared serendipitous, they weren't without struggle.

In the last year we have moved four times. We have felt the loneliness of being far from home. We have interrogated our selves and our dreams as one does when removed from their comfort zone. We have shouldered unprecedented levels of stress and we have weathered financial struggles greater than anything we have experienced in our adult lives. No stranger to poverty in other capacities, the ability to make things work became a necessity.

Sometimes it isn't pretty. Sometimes the lessons we learn are not gentle. I discovered that I wanted to do a couple of things in order to find myself. Through these simple things, I'm learning. I'm able to do a lot of what I want in this area, but I've been a little more quiet. Perhaps that's a lesson too.





Photo Credit: Bartcop.com

Food Education Part 2: Richard

The second person to have a dramatic impact on me during my time at the Co-op was Richard*. Richard was noteworthy for his momentous produce purchases, his friendly disposition and clothing, which looked like he was prepared for much colder conditions.

"Rutabaga, parsnips, arugula, daikon radish, romanesco..." I rapidly typed in the codes for all of the fresh goods on the touch screen at my register. It had become a sort of game to see if I could get all of the codes entered in correctly without having to look at my reference sheet. In between my hasty typing and transferring of grocery items across the register, we started talking.

Richard was a personal chef for people with health ailments and he cooked in a way that attempted to ease the issues his clients were experiencing, through dietary changes dependent on fresh foods. I don't remember seeing him buy anything in a package. I doubt that he ever did. We began sharing recipes, books, and information about different uses for produce, though I have to say that I was more of a student, due to my then limited experience with fresh food and cooking in any way. In any case, we started discussing a lot of environmental issues and the politics of food. I shared with him the changes that I had identified when I was living in Thailand and he related to my experiences through his time living in Hawaii.

Richard lived on the island of Kauai, where he had learned about a different way of life from the local people. He had been embraced by a peaceful, loving, patient culture - much like what I had found in Thailand - and he made his home there. Throughout the years, he learned about the community and their tie to the natural environment. They grew an assortment of produce on the tropical, bountiful land - establishing a sustainable way of life that thrived in this island oasis.

However, the island, with its rich soil, natural resources and superb growing conditions, also became of interest to companies like Pharmacia - the former Monsanto (Monsanto's website) as place to work on genetic seed cultivation. With this expansion of seed companies and biotech industries, the environmental conditions on the small island began to drastically change.

In a haunting article from Truthout, a non-profit news source, "On the Front Lines of Hawaii's GMO War", Mike Ludwig writes, "The GMO seeds produced on Kauai are not considered food items, so the agrichemical companies are allowed to use more pesticides than traditional farmers. Together, the four biotech and agrichemical companies use an estimated 18 tons of "restricted use" pesticides on their plots each year, and local doctors and activists worry about the chemicals drifting in the air and water."

"Biotech agriculture facility and irrigation ditch near the beach on the Hawaiian island of Kauai." (Photo and caption: Mike Ludwig)

Richard lived next to one of the fields being sprayed with chemicals and over time began developing serious health problems. The doctor he visited in Kauai told him that he needed to leave the island or he would die. Devastated by the idea of leaving his home and his community on Kauai, but suffering a myriad of health problems, Richard decided to return to the mainland and ended up in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

I asked if he was thankful that he had the option to leave - an option that local people are not afforded. He looked deeply saddened by the question as he responded, "that was my home."

"Rutabaga, parsnips, arugula, daikon radish, romanesco..." I type.

Heartbroken by his displacement, Richard still dreams of his life in Hawaii, a place he can never return to. 

Sources: 

Ludwig, Mike. (2013, November 13). On the Front Lines of Hawaii's GMO War. Truthout. Retrieved from http://www.truth-out.org/ 

*Names have been changed due to the personal material in this post.

Food Education Part 1: Juicing

During a year of this culinary rediscovery, one in which I preserved food, built upon my previous baking experience of just add oil and water, and explored the trend of juicing, I began to get to know food. Some of my "concoctions", as my sister would warmly describe my attempts at food creation, turned out better than others. In time, I started to get a handle of things. I began speaking with people more qualified on the subject of cooking, who became my resources for learning and my inspiration to challenge myself. In the cooperative grocery shop environment, the collection of teachers available was bountiful.

Each from diverse backgrounds, and in many cases interacting with food in very different ways than I had ever considered, the people I was in contact with had a profound impact on me. There was Lola Moonfrog, a co-op regular who I assisted one day in a quick therapy session (for both of us) and the bagging of her groceries in individual cloth bags. It felt intimate to be so carefully handling heirloom tomatoes and delicately placing the beautiful fruit into her shopping cart.
(Blog post on Lola Moonfrog and "listening")

There were folks who wouldn't allow you to scan their purchases or refused to stand next to the scanners, so I spent a fair amount of time typing in barcodes and conversing with people who held very different opinions than myself. There were, during this work experience, two people who influenced me the most: the first was a juicing advocate.

When people think about juicing, they may still be thinking about Lance Armstrong and steroids, but for those in the nutrition business, "juicing" emerged as a method of liquifying your fresh fruit, herbs and vegetables into a simple juice to be consumed as a dietary supplement or meal replacement. It is an amazing way to get a lot of the nutrients from your fresh veggies, consolidated into an easily consumed form.

I had the opportunity to chat with a customer who had severe diabetes and, as a result, had lost feeling in a part of his face. We started talking after I commented on the massive amount of fresh produce that was gliding down the conveyer belt toward me.

"My doctor said I would never get over the diabetes," he explained, "and he said that the feeling in my face would never return. Then, I started juicing."
I looked up at him from the rainbow spread of fresh foods that were now decorating the register. He smiled, "I juice every meal. I take my juicer with me when I leave town or go on vacation. My doctor can't believe it, but I cured my diabetes and the feeling is coming back in my face."

I was stunned. I grew up with a mom who I called a "health nut", because she was diligent about putting balanced and diverse food on our table. But, we still grew up with processed food. I call it hybrid cooking where packaged food and homemade meals are mixed together. For instance, we would buy a pizza crust and then top it off with broccoli and veggies that, as a child, I could have done without. I remember making complaints about not eating something "normal", but that same kid grew up thinking about healthy, nutritious food and would one day try to help those walking around the grocery store looking for "normal" bananas realize that they meant "nonorganic". And, we didn't sell that stuff.

Though, on the spectrum of food knowledge, I had a ways to go.

Dairy-Sea-Legs

Not too long ago a friend asked me if I had ever thought about being vegan. I told her flat out that I had no interest in it. (I didn't mention that the night before, I had been scribbling on the back of bar napkins angsty comments about vegans who buy meat replacements at places like Costco. Yeah, I've got an opinion or two.)

I explained that I had changed my diet for health and environmental reasons about six years ago, when I began limiting my intake of meat. Excluding all meat, with the exception of fish, is referred to as a pescetarian diet and I have followed that lifestyle for some time now. While still eating animal products like eggs, milk and cheese, I was pretty rigid about the presence of meat in my diet.

Then, something changed. Well, actually, a lot changed and has been changing for some time. Looking back on it now, I guess it has been a long time coming. When I returned from Thailand, I started working at a food cooperative in Santa Fe, New Mexico. After being out of the country for a few years and away from my absolute favorite foods, finding myself surrounded by western food, I embarked on a culinary love affair. It felt like I was rediscovering produce, vegetarian options, cheese - foods I had only dreamed of while I was overseas. However, things were strikingly different.

For one, very quickly, this dream world comprised of joyous, delectable feasts, came to a grinding halt when I realized that I couldn't stomach all of the dairy. Here I was, in the land of glorious, cheesy New Mexican food, pizza and macaroni - delicacies in the land of stir-fry and curry, but my body was being destroyed. I felt terrible. I couldn't believe what a havoc it wrecked on my system, and this was after less than two years of eating a mostly dairy-free diet. Not by choice, but due to regional availability.

During the height of my war with dairy, I met Phil. I think it would be reasonable to say that Phil is a mad scientist when it comes to mac and cheese. When we started dating, he was cooking up the dankest and certainly the cheesiest recipes I had ever tried. I persevered through each meal and somehow got my dairy-sea-legs.

So, I started changing my diet back to "normal", but after being in a different country for so long and seeing a lot of different ways of living and thriving, I could see how things were starting to change for me beyond my difficulties with dairy. I was really taking the time to consider my health, my body and my relationship with food.

It is due to this relationship with food, my body and the world around me, that I have revisited my friend's question and have arrived at a different conclusion than I had anticipated.

This is the beginning of a new adventure. Stay tuned.

Unpacking Compassion

Sunday morning and the light is soft. The room, where I unpack my belongings, feels like a hug - enveloping me in a sense of security that I have searched for since Phil and I left Santa Fe. Yes, everything is falling into place, but, gosh, there were times last month when I was debilitatingly stressed about the outcome of things.

We all face challenges; we all struggle and need a helping hand from time to time. Luckily, Phil and I were incredibly blessed to receive assistance through our own transition. It made all of the difference to us and it reminded me that despite the magnitude of what we were dealing with, there were people just around the corner who were compassionate and willing to help in the transition. When it seemed as though everything was building into an impossible obstacle, (financially we were at our breaking point just two days before our move - our car broke down and it was going to cost more than what we had to get it repaired), people offered to give us rides, pick up moving boxes, aid in the move and even helped repair our bikes to get us mobile again. It made our move not only possible, but one of the easiest moving days, probably in the history of moving!

It wasn't easy and there were times when I felt hopeless and frantic, but we were persistent and eventually the storm subsided. I have to admit that it took every part of me to not outwardly lash out at...everyone...and certainly those who seemed bent on complicating our predicament further. I wanted so badly to be a sixteen-year-old girl and prank the shit out of my housemate. Haha! I really had dreams of supergluing everything in our house and mailing her milk stink bombs. I know! A part of me really wanted to make things as difficult for her as she had made things for us. However, every time I had these irrational thoughts, I took some deep breaths and reminded myself of the kind of person I want to be. It was really hard! And, it is scary that the line between goodness and malice is so fine. I saw that line in myself and I was reminded of the anger and bitterness that grows within people and makes them sick. I stuck to my resolve and I left the house in an untampered condition - repeating to myself to act with compassion. 

I know that I am not alone in this. After I wrote my last post, touching on the struggle I was going through, I received a personal message from someone I interacted with back in the day, who I have since lost touch with. In their message, they apologized for lashing out at me on the internet in response to my blog post. I didn't have the opportunity to read what they wrote, as they removed it quite quickly after writing it, but apparently they had been set off by reading about my problems and after experiencing a terrible, personal loss, had responded "distortedly". I wanted to write about this because though I can never begin to imagine what they are going through, I believe that this is a common reaction, especially when in the internet world we are seeing the juxtaposition of our lives and others quite blatantly. This can be a disheartening challenge in and of itself, but certainly when you have experienced something horrible in your own life and then you see on the interwebs, people lamenting about their own issues that are so far from your own. It can be extremely isolating and, shit, the Facebook world is totally distorted. So, what I have to say about this, and what I continue to believe, is that we are all going through our own battles and struggles - daily. Sometimes it pertains to bad days, relationship strain or serious loss, however on some scale, we are all in this limbo of struggle. If we respond to this in a distorted and unhappy way, I understand. If we are weakened by the magnitude of the weight that we carry, I get it. It is okay. I just wish for love, positivity and for all people to mend.

I feel the cool morning air swimming through my new space. Reflecting on challenges behind me in conjunction with an awareness of a heightened sense of my own strengths and weaknesses, I know that there will be more to address, more to shoulder. No matter what trials we face, we will be forced to consider who we are, what we are made of and who we want to be. It isn't easy and sometimes we need a little bit of compassion and a helping hand. 

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” ― Plato

Kindness Tested

Oh yeah, I used to write...

Hey there, blog world. I used to be diligent about writing and it was incredibly therapeutic. I guess I have just been finding therapy in other avenues. I have been climbing...a lot. I draw and paint. I make hippie hair wraps and mess around with Mod Podge. I have fun talking about politics and the world -with my partner. I make elaborate meals, even when I don't have too much in my pocket. I garden too, and this year we were able to grow some epic squash - though we did have to transplant a lot of our plants after our living situation changed. This is the topic of my post today: change. Phil comments that it is the year of the snake and as we have experienced a hell of a lot of change this year, it feels fitting. Shedding skin can't be comfortable, and for us, it hasn't been the easiest of years. However, we have changed tremendously, learned a lot about who we are and I believe that we have become better people for it.

Recently, someone did something absolutely devastating to the two of us and it has required every bit of my strength to try to stay calm and rational through it all. This is the abridged version of the story:

Phil and I were away on vacation while the owner of the home that we rent was putting in a horrible retaining wall in the backyard. (If you have ever driven down a highway and have seen the cage and rock retaining walls on the side of the road, you know what I am looking at in our backyard. Oh, and when they can out of materials, they just used pallets and t-posts.) Returning from vacation, we found that our property had been severely damaged during the creation of this wall - our backyard garden had to be removed in order for the retaining wall to be put in, hose nozzles had been smashed and the yard was left as an unfinished construction site. We were devastated. Additionally, we discovered that during the week we were away, the property manager had been fired for mismanaging funds, losing the copy of our contract (a document that, though we asked for repeatedly, was never copied for us) and for not making repairs to the house while it was under his supposed care.

After all of this destruction, when we were asked to sign a new lease, we decided that we would start looking for other places. Our room mate, a 40 year old woman, Kelly, told us that she had already turned in her 30 day notice and was finding a place with her friend. We asked to speak to the new property manager to discuss our options. He suggested that we might want to turn in our 30 day notice too. So, we decided to turn in our notice, but to keep our options open in case we weren't able to find a place. We looked for a couple of days and then decided that with our passive-aggressive room mate moving out that we would take over the lease. On top of that, we hadn't been planning to move right before Phil started school and we were realizing that it just wasn't financially feasible. I wrote to the home owner asking for the option to take over the place. Before I heard back from the home owner though, I came home to find Kelly showing the place to prospective tenants. Confused, I asked her what was going on and she said that she wasn't leaving. Okayyyy.

We talked and I explained to her that it wasn't financially feasible for us to leave either. I suggested that perhaps we could all figure out a solution to the living situation. She didn't seem happy with that option. Then, the following day, I received an e-mail from the home owner stating that she couldn't let us stay in our room, because she had already promised the lease to someone else....our room mate - Kelly!

So, we had our room sold out from underneath us. And, to add to this...we haven't found a place to move into, so we are still desperately searching.

How do you live with someone who will do something like that to you? How do you share a house with someone who is now trying to fill the rooms of a house that you have called home, while you have nowhere to go. I can't believe it. I simply can't believe that people act in this way to each other. She's a 40 year old woman. She has lived this way for half a lifetime. Not once in this whole ordeal did she talk to us about our plans or even give us an indication of what she was doing.

Devious.

So, after shaking with anger for a day, then thinking about sadistic shit, then realizing that slippery slopes are not for me, I am trying to put one foot in front of the other. I am attempting to remind myself of the kind of person that I am and who I want to be, despite it being so damn hard sometimes.

We are doing our best to embrace the change - shedding the skin of a living situation that we were struggling to make work, hopeful for what will come. With less than a week to find our new home and to move - I'm keeping my fingers crossed for miracles, desperately hoping that I will be rewarded for my resilience, yet realizing with that whatever happens, I am learning about who I am and the kind of person I want to be.

Oh, and at least I'm writing again.


"Our duty is to encourage every one in his struggle to live up to his own highest idea, and strive at the same time to make the ideal as near as possible to the Truth." Swami Vivekananda