Newly Minted "Adult"

I'm feeling like a newly minted adult these days, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it just yet. Let me recap 2015 for you all so far since it's been about as interesting as other years.

In 2008, becoming a massage therapist blipped up on my radar rather unexpectedly when my massage therapist told me I should consider becoming one. I smushed the idea in the what-are-you-talking-about-but-thanks-not-really corner of my mind and kept on my merry way, never fully dismissing it, but fighting it still.

Gradually, massage became the thing I would do "someday," the nebulous land of potential and future possibility. After trying several other ideas out that I thought would be the right fit, I chose massage and then tried to make it happen. Twice. Third times the charm, and I graduated from school in August and am now licensed.

Am I glad I did it? Usually, especially when I am massaging and remember how much I love it. Hey, I can be forgetful and frustrated and a little slow. It has, however, been different than I expected, and it's more difficult getting started than I anticipated. Choosing a career theme is one of the reasons I'm feeling a bit more like an "adult" these days, at least in society's view. I have business cards, a professional license, and a loan.

The loan(s) are the other factor in this transitional period. In March of this year, I took out my first loan to pay for school and it was SO UNCOMFORTABLE. As an unwitting disciple of the Jerry Kranz School of Finances, I am a bit loan avoidant and anxious about money (but manage it well, may I add). My amazing car, Bessie, Traverser of the Country, will retire this year, and I'll soon be adding Loan #2 to the portfolio.

More so than just owing money, I am now responsible financially for things outside of myself, and I haven't experienced that before. These new constraints require me to think differently about my future than I did in the past. While I could rant about how debt keeps us enslaved, etc., etc., I'd rather make peace with reality. Money is a tool we use in our day and age to live our lives. Now I just have to make choices differently.

One of these choices is to forgo the push to try and immediately make massage my primary income. I love bodywork, and I hope to someday make it my primary career, but for now, it isn't looking realistic. Is it disappointing that this isn't working out how I expected? Definitely, but my license isn't going anywhere that I know of.

Really, I think this year so far has been one of consciously moving towards goals and desires, which is involving plenty of delays and setbacks, but also surprises. Liminal spaces are wonderful times of growth and rooting uncomfortable, and this is just another pitstop.

Bessie on a mountain during her days of glory.

Massage school summed up in one picture. Individuals in this will remain unnamed.

Shi Shi Beach in Olympic National Park is one of the loveliest places I've seen.

Word for 2015: Joy

noun: the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying;

a source or cause of keen pleasure or delight; 

something or someone greatly valued or appreciated

verb: to feel joy; be glad; rejoice

I've enjoyed celebrating New Year's ever since I was a child. Maybe it's feeling connected in celebration with people across the globe in a way that transcends country, time zone, religion, and personality. Perhaps my dislike of fireworks (for most of my life) and large transitions subversively transmuted itself. I enjoy having definitive, objective markers to orient myself around, and a change in calendar year is an obvious and widely accepted choice.

Regardless of the reasoning, the change from one calendar year to another has been something I honor. Over the past few years, I've made the shift away from resolutions since I break them by January 2 and don't care to give myself "rules." This year, I decided to follow a practice proposed by others and choose a word for 2015 that will inform and guide me as I traverse the next twelve months of hills, valleys, and plateaus.

I had a couple mentors who mentioned that they hope my next year would be filled with joy, and the practice of choosing a word fell into my lap inbox a week later. Beginner's luck probably, but one learns to receive gifts for what they are and run with them while they're present.

So, joy. How do I express it as a very human... human? Realistically, what does joy look like as a frustrated, American twenty-something? How is it lived out in a world that is horrifying and unjust, yet astonishing and beautiful? What is joy when I'm angry, confused, hurt, and disappointed?

I don't know what this practice will look like, and I don't like what people usually say it "should" look like. Thankfully, the whole point of practice is to return; there's no perfection to be found here. But maybe joy, instead.

In the words of one of the participants, Tuba Christmas is "transcendental." It's across the US and globe, so do yourself a favor and find a concert next December.

This photo doesn't show the full majesty; I just appreciated the white socks and sneakers combo of the gentleman in aqua.

Oh, Asheville. My move did not go at all as expected, so I find myself back in Florida. How funny to practice being present and finding joy in the place I've been trying to escape since 2005. Not.

I loved seeing my Aunt Patricia in Boone, NC during my time in the mountains. We tried to get a selfie with Grandfather Mountain. The self portion of the selfie didn't exactly work, but we did get the mountain.

 

Sunset over Grandfather Mountain.

 

Tova and I seeing The Nutcracker presented by the Orlando Ballet. The performance and venue exceeded expectations, however the audience whooping was not appreciated.

The winter in Florida has been warm, and flowers are blooming. As much as I dislike the darkness and cold of winter, I miss seasons and the natural rhythm they bring.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

After a long hiatus, it's about time I publish something I've written. On that note, how do I properly capitalize this title anyways?

One of the more interesting things I've tested over the past year is the idea of home. What it is, where it can be found, its importance to me. The past year has flipped my idea of home on its head and challenged my understanding of what this word and the oft-quipped saying really mean.

A brief history of my relationship with the word brings me first to Maryland, then Virginia, where I spent my childhood. The trees and rolling hills, beautiful autumns and humid summers, fireflies alighting at night, times spent outside with friends. Home was a familiar place, geographically known, with parameters measured in comfort and ease. I even had "Second Home," Miami, where I visited extended family and had been born.

I moved to Florida and began high school in a foreign place where people wore jeans in the absolutely sticky humidity. I had viewed Miami as a sort of home, so Florida wasn't alien, but having to actually root in Florida proved more jarring than expected. It's as if to build up the shaky internal bindings around my self, I looked to external stability, in particular familiarity with the land and geography, for strength. The loss of my stability, among other things in a chaotic adolescence, was painful, and I spent years "hating" Florida without really understanding exactly why. I still don't, but the process moves gradually.

Home for me was external stability to orient towards in a chaotic inner landscape. Home was land containing beauty that filled my soul and let me rest a bit outside of my million-mile-an-hour mind. Home, at some level, was safety and comfort in a world that felt scary.

How does one define 'home' when wings are spread, a search begins, and the internal is more stable than the external? Maybe home begins internally, where heart meets soul in deep places. We are not the beginning and end, but maybe Home flows outward, and we can start there.

As I'm preparing for my fifth address this calendar year, it gives me peace to center in the deep places. For the girl who found (and still finds) transition jarring, who takes comfort in familiar geography and traversing streets known to her feet, I still find it a bit wild that I've spent so much time moving, stepping into the things I both dreamed of and feared.

I look forward to the day when home becomes more external again as the constant 'hellos' and 'goodbyes' are tiring. Until then, however, my home is where my heart is; I carry it with me.

 

My friend and I pondering the concept of 'home.'

He's pretty settled; I'm a bit envious.

Beaches and expressive skies.

 A sunset in Florida's hill country. The sunsets here can be pretty stunning.

Beer flows aplenty in so-called Beer City, USA.

My next move is anticipated to be Asheville, NC for massage therapy school.

I know I love living near mountains, now to experiment with living in the mountains.

Native Floridian

A long weekend spent in Orlando is just what the doctor ordered for this frustrated twenty three year old. Friends, family, and time to relax by not doing anything, something Floridians are pretty good at. While I grew up in the DC area, I was born in Miami and have spent a fair amount of time in Florida whether it's been living there or vacationing. I'm learning to embrace my roots there and have taken upon myself the role of Flori-educator. No, we're not all crazy like the Florida Man Twitter feed would lead you to believe, but we are a bit off our rockers. I blame the weather.

Anyways, something amazing I've learned from this past year is that the more I've settled into myself, the less I've needed my external surroundings (city, state, friend group, items owned, etc.) to help me define myself. Moving around and driving cross-country has shown me the beauty of this country and its people, and it has opened my eyes to the reality that I could live anywhere and be okay. I do want to find a place where I want to be and where I feel like I can spread my wings and plant my feet, but I don't need a place like I used to. It's freeing, grounding, and gives me agency to make my own choices. I can select my path and pursue it accordingly.

All this being said, I am thoroughly convinced that the DMV (DC area, since when have we called ourselves this??) is not for me. Not in the slightest. As I've become more authentically me, I've moved internally and no longer desire the busyness of a massive city, the competition of a driven culture, the aggression and energy output of carving out a space for myself, and the need to constantly be entertained by external things. To use my first-day-of-kindergarten phrase, "This is not for me."

There is no judgment against this area, but rather an acknowledgment that I desire to be somewhere where I feel more comfortable. I encountered many difficulties while growing up here and can't discount how worn down I am from constantly reorienting myself out of panic-response neural pathways, which is something unique to me that many people here would not be experiencing. Needless to say, I'm grateful for the opportunity to heal and reintegrate in the place where it all started, but the work is arduous, unseen, and rather lonely, and I look forward to leaving the pressure cooker behind.

My current plan is to return to Orlando to rest and go back to school for massage therapy. I don't know for how long, I don't know where massage therapy will lead, but I really hold to the quote from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, "Not all who wander are lost," and I trust the process and journey enough (having done my own literal one) to take steps now without being able to anticipate or know where I'm heading.

I may not know where I'm headed, but I'm going.

Street art near Union Market

Behold, Union Market, home of a lovely (expensive) home goods store and amazing ice cream

Perfect spring evening on the Potomac

I was in Japan... in Epcot

Reading time by the pool (I recommend both magazines)

My amazing sister and best friend, Tova, in one of my favorite pictures from my trip

Tea and a scone

My family and I at the British tea house in Mt. Dora