Bad days

We all have them. I had one today. I could not wait for today to end. I kept looking at the clock waiting for 5:30 PM, and it could not come fast enough. Supposedly, time goes by faster when you are busy. Not today...today crawled slower than a snail on its way to a French restaurant.

When 5:30 finally came, a missed voicemail reminded me of the silver lining. Good news can change the tone of the day and put a smile to your face. Trust me on this one. The voicemail was to announce a small victory, but it meant more to me. It meant the revival of a dream, the affirmation of a my voice, the renewal of my new path.

So, if you are having a bad day today, remember, you too will get a voicemail, a text, an email, a cup of coffee with a dear one... if only to remind you that tomorrow will be better.

Cheers!

eed

Changes: also known as "Details in the fabric"

This past year has been a little more eventful than I typically like, mainly because I micro manage details of my life by managing my reactions to them. External factors are unavoidable, but my reaction to them are my own. Some might call it just another version of the "positive thinking" movement, but it is a little different. I know, I know, you are probably thinking that this is a brilliant way to look at life, but there is a downside to this approach: mainly that my reactions are usually tailored to the people around me: I am an expert at pretending to be fine.

The more I convince myself that I am fine, the easier it becomes to be fine when asked. But as I mentioned earlier, this past year, things have not been too fine. My reactions to these events have constituted mostly of denial, frustration and wine consumption (which is an acceptable reaction to ANY situation). Looking back, I wonder how things would have been different if I had acted sooner. When I finally did, I was not ready for the changes that would come along with my decisions, I just knew they meant I was doing the right thing.

 

Don't get me wrong, I am not scared of changes, I am mostly scared of what they bring... there is a subtle distinction there. I like to call this distinction: "details in the fabric" after one of my favorite songs. The details in the fabric remind me of everything that could possibly go wrong after a decision has been made. They remind me that a missed stich can unravel an entire outfit if snagged. They remind me that ultimately I am not in control. But beyond all that, they bring out the best in the garment, and remind me that everything will be fine.

 

Maybe, I was on the right track by striving to manage my reactions to life events. Ultimately, I can only be responsible for my actions. The main lesson here though, is for me to stop pretending that everything is fine when it is not. The details in the fabric may only be visible to me, but they are worth sharing with people around me who often go through the same struggles.

eed

Still chasing the sun

Confession: Marguerite, the sunflower, died. I killed her. I forgot to water her for a few days, and this is all it took for the life to wither out of her... I felt sad and guilty for not taking better care of her, but I justified it by telling myself that she is now in a better place... on a farm where all sunflowers go to die peacefully (somewhere in a big field of sunflowers in Yellow Springs, OH).

I was on a walk today, and the wind was blowing really hard. The sky was dark, my umbrella was at home and my raincoat in my car where it apparently belonged. I worried for a second and almost turned back. As much as I love a good storm, I don't like being in the middle of it... I like to be home, safe, and watch it from the comfort of my bed. I kept walking though, I kept walking by the river, knowing that each step I took, no matter how small would get me to my destination. 

The sun was hiding, but I kept walking, despite the clouds, despite the winds, despite the impending storm, despite the rain, despite my fear of getting drenched. 

The next step, not matter how small, no matter how hesitant, brought me closer to the sun, so I kept walking until my lunch break was over...

eed

Let it go- Part 2

For the past few months, I have been performing at a local improv theater on weekends. It has been a surprisingly freeing and creative outlet, and I know I need a different (and longer) post to talk about how improv has changed my life. 

Tonight, I just want to talk about one of the favorite lessons I have learned from improv: letting go.

If you know a little about long form improvisation, you know that the people on stage make up everything as they go. It is a great example of instantaneous creativity, where the brain and the heart meet in an amazing moment to create multiple scenes out of thin air. On stage, I get to become a devoted, yet abusing wife or a girl in an inappropriate relationship with her cousin. It is quite magical. I highly recommend it to any fellow introverts who think their words don't always matter.

I was in a scene this past week, and I was called to play a character I am not used to being. Again, if you know a little bit about improvisation, you know that the first rule is to say: "Yes, and.." , so that's what I did. I played the character and had a blast! It was very rewarding. Once I got home, though, I kept thinking about ALL the ways, I could have played that specific character better. If only, I had danced more, if only I had said more words, if only I had said this one extra line, if only I had not been afraid to BE the character. It bothered me all night. 

When I woke up the next day, I realized, that the moment was gone...It was too late. I could not go back to that night, and play it again... I had to let go of that moment. I had to let it go. It was a terrifying feeling. Yet, it felt empowering to realize that even though the moment was gone, I made the most of it. I played it in the moment, and it was time to let it go. It was a great reminder for me, because as I confessed in my last post, it it is hard for me to do that in my so called real life (Kudos to you if you caught this reference to one of the best TV shows from the 90's).

When I get on stage this coming weekend, it will be to create a new moment, a new character, a new version of me. And whatever happens, once the moment is over, I will have to let it go. 

eed

Let it go

No, this post is not about the movie, FROZEN, which I have no intention of watching at this point in my life. It is about literally letting go of something, either physically, spiritually or metaphorically speaking.

I have been having this recurring nightmare, where I am hanging on to the edge of a cliff. My hands are holding on so tight, that my knuckles turn clear. My body is tense, my muscles ache, and fear feels me up faster than a holy raft. In the dream, when I finally open up my eyes, all I see is a blue sky and fluffy clouds; instead of the dark storm I seem to be expecting my mind. Just when my shoulders are about to give in, my fingers finally open up and I wake up instantly with a deep sense of anxiety and clenched hands... 

I am not good at letting go. In fact, I tend to hang on so hard sometimes, that my fingers get all tensed up, and grasp for however long I can. My dad used to call me “The iron lady” (yes, as in Margaret Tacther) when I was younger. I was (and still to some degree still am to this day) the most stubborn child growing up. I just tend to hold on tight some things, feelings, and emotions. I am quick to forgive others, but rarely myself..

Today, I decided to let go. It was terrifying, overwhelming and exhilarating. I am not sure how I feel right now... It is quite the mixed the bag, but overall I feel terrified, overwhelmed, exhilarated.

I feel good. 

eed

One Minute More

"Take your time, don't take too long..."

- Capital Cities

Contribution

I have been thinking a lot about legacy lately... About people and the things we leave behind. Not necessarily in a morbid, but curious way.

A nineteen year old girl lost her life in a tragic and sordid accident a few months ago. I did not know her, the people we have in common had a lot to say about her. Despite such a short time on earth, her legacy was one of kindness, joy, hard-work and humility. She was loved and respected by many and her legacy lives through the impact she has made while she was here.

I tend to worry about the future a lot. About what the world has to offer. In moments like these, rather than focus on worry and linger on self pity, I now try to shift my focus on what I can offer the world, on what I can contribute to the life I have been entrusted with. This slight shift in focus brings a new level of awareness that takes me out of myself, out of my little world, to a greater sense of belonging.

Of course, I still have those moments (or days...) when worry of the future take over. But in those moments, I will remember the blond, kind, joyful and humble nineteen year old girl who lost her life; but not without contributing to her world the best way she knew how: by being herself.

eed

The things we lose

The past several years have been good to me. 

I have learned more about myself in the past couple of years than I have in my entire twenties. Somewhere along the way, I feel like I have lost something crucial and I could not put my finger on it for a long time. It was not until I stopped making excuses for myself, that I realized what was missing: it was joy. Don't get me wrong, I feel pretty happy with my life, and the wonderful people and things that fill it. I have encountered my share of amazing people and have experienced more things than a lot of people can only dream about. But I feel like my joy has left or to be exact, it has morphed into an overwhelming feeling of contentment.

Contentment, a by product of gratefulness, is a feeling that tends to linger a little too long in my life. I realize that many live long lives without getting a sense of contentment; and then there are those of us who wallow in it too long. Contentment has become a crutch for me. A crutch that gives me permission to seek out and thoroughly enjoy the status quo. There is safety in knowing what to expect the next day, there is safety in knowing which events to plan for ahead of time, there is safety in knowing that your life is moving along at its own steady pace with the occasional turbulence. 

I love storms. But mostly from the safety of my home, preferably by a window, with a a good book. In fact, it is storming as I type this words, and I am about to brew a cup of tea. I got caught in the rain today, for the first time in a long time. And I am not talking about a light drizzle; I am talking heavy rain, strong winds, thunder, lightning, and a mile back to my car. As my friend's son and I made it back to the car, he shared his laughter with me. His voice guided me through the rain, because I could barely lift my head while the rain whipped my face. It felt exhilarating! We made it back to our car's completely drenched, but the joy I felt he recounted our race to his mother is what I know is missing in my life.

In the end, I guess it is less about my daily tasks, routine and habits than it is about the attitude I have towards each. It is less chasing a fleeting sensation, than it is about cherishing precious moments. I am leaving contentment in the backseat, at least for a long while, and going back to chasing joy, wherever it may be!

And when everything else fails, sightings of dogs (preferably puppies) peeking out of car windows is ALWAYS the best way to get a fresh dose of joy. 

eed

Say cheese!

If you know me well in real life, you probably know that I am big ball of cheese on the inside. Nothing makes me happier than cheesy/lame jokes, 80's and 90's cheesy rock ballads, and actual cheese! I think if I ever were diagnosed as lactose intolerant, I would cry and refuse to eat anything else.

Anyway... I am saying this because this short post is extremely cheesy... So consider yourself warned!

I was thinking last night about how difficult sometime it can be for me to tell people how I feel, especially when I love them. There are many reasons to this, but I have no time to delve too much into them. This is a cheesy post after all.

If that's alright, I will let James Taylor share how I feel on this one, because in fact, "love IS sunshine!"

eed

Bicycle ride

I learned to ride a bicycle in my mid twenties. Which incidentally is the perfect age to let your fear of gravity, bruises and pain attempt to destroy what would otherwise a perfectly fun and enjoyable experience. I highly recommend it! I spent the most frustrating and emotional three hours of my life falling off and getting back on that stupid bicycle. Again, I highly recommend it! (Sarcasm is really hard to translate in writing, but I think in this case, it is quite self evident...)

To this day,  I am still not sure what made me get back on that instrument of torture, a week later, after I had all but given up on my hopes of riding around town on two wheels. Was it pride, stubbornness, sheer determination? Who knows? All I know is that a week later, after the bruises, tears and cuts, I was ready to get back on. I absolutely despise the expression: "It is like riding a bike"; I cringe every time I hear it!

I am here to tell you that riding a bike IS hard! (for some people...OK...mostly me). Years later, I still have to work very hard at balancing my unwilling body on my bicycle anytime I head out. I ride around in a circle for a couple of minutes to make sure I remember that the ground is NOT my friend, unlike the brakes. Once I feel confident/secure enough to finally take off, I quickly look around and pretend that I was just watching out for cars, or waiting for friends while staring angrily at my watch.

Whatever works, right?

eed

Home: where my heart is.

I was born in Lomé, raised in Dakar, grew up too fast in Paris, and became an adult in Dayton (what's adulthood, really?!? This is for another post..).

I built my version of a home here in Dayton. I am not quite sure how it happened. One day, I was trying to escape, the next I fell in love with the Gem City. When I share this with people, almost every single time, I get this question:

"Oh, so are you married with children?".

And I really, REALLY want to say:

"No. Do I have to have those things to call a place a home?"....

Every time I talk about Dayton being my home, I get the following question: "WHY Dayton?". I am afraid I don't have a clear explanation. I guess the heart loves what the heart loves. Or maybe, I have a more fluid version of what home is...

A few years ago, I stumbled upon the term: a third culture kid (also called a global nomad) and it finally ALL made sense.

"A Third Culture Kid (TCK) is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents' culture. The TCK frequently builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any. Although elements from each culture may be assimilated into the TCK's life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background."

-David C Pollock

When I read this definition for the first time...it finally all made sense. My sense of belonging was not tied to where I was born, grew up, went to school,  or anything like that...it was and still is tied to the people in my life. The people who matter to me live here, so that's where my heart will be... at least for a little while.

eed

Meanwhile in Dayton...

The things we carry- Part 2: stories

I love listening to stories. As far as I can remember, I have always either sat down to listen to stories from my father or on the radio; or made up my own. 

About a year ago, I realized that even though I loved listening to people's stories, I had trouble telling mine. I do tell my story, but I realized recently that what I essentially do is give a stock answer/story when people ask me to tell me about myself. I usually end my story at a specific point in my life, (roughly about five years ago), when everything changed, seemingly for the better. Most people seem content to stop at that point, and I often change the subject to get them to talk about themselves again.

Last year on a trip back from Indiana while trapped in a car with new friends, I could tell something was up. They asked me to share my story with them, and I started with my stock answer, with a few more details, since we had quite a few hours to kill. After I was done, someone turned to me and said: 

-"And then what happened?". 

I must have looked puzzled, because he looked at me again and repeated his question... 

I was in shock... I did not know what to say to him. After a long pause, I looked at him and said: 

-"Hmmm.... I don't know. Life happened, I guess. I don't know..." . 

How does one forget their own story? Does the daily grind take over? Does the need to meet basic materials things become more important than our need to make an impact in our world? Do the questions we ask in our young years become so irrelevant that we stop seeking answers? 

I just stumbled on an old daily planner while spring cleaning. It was not a "dear diary" kind of journal, but I just noted one or two good/bad things that had happened that day. I may need to start doing this again. 

A single line of history a day is better than fading away without a trace...

A day in the life

eed

The things we carry. Part 1: things

I moved to a new neighborhood a few months ago, and I was shocked at the number of things I have accumulated over the years. I never realized for example that I owned so many purses. When did that happen? Growing up, I promised myself, I would never turn into my mother who owns an ever increasing collection of purses... Today, there is container full of purses, I may wear one day, in my basement.

Basements, by the way, are a terrible thing! I never had one, and now I wonder how full it will get by the time I move on to my next destination. Everything seemed to fit all crammed together in my own bedroom apartment (sans basement), and with double the space (plus basement), I wonder how every even managed to fit. Moving on....

I sometimes wonder why I need to own so many pens. I mean, I am never going to use them all...but you know what, almost every single one of them has a special place in my heart. Some were given to me, some were purchased in special places, some were stolen borrowed from special places (Do not judge me! It is better than stealing towels!), some I have owned for years, and they simply remind me of a special time in my life.

I like to call myself a self aware/practical hoarder. I tend to keep things with sentimental value for a long time, until one day, the need for uncluttered space takes over. (The second bucket of pens did not survive the move...).  My life is this constant battle between the need to see clearly ahead and the need to hold on to my past, which I know is not uncommon. Although, I have often wondered where the sweet spot would be. Is it the place where we instinctively know to make room for bigger and better things? Is it the place where older things do not matter as much anymore, and their mere presence does not mean that I have failed in some way?

Wouldn't I like to know...

eed

PS: The purses will find their way to Goodwill by the weekend...promise!

PPS: Actually, basements are great! It doubles as my personal home gym, so I shouldn't be so hard on mine.

Holes

I have been obsessed with the song called "Holes" by Passenger, which is basically about carrying on after going through hard things. I really don't have anything else to add to his lyrics, except that I agree with them.

"We got holes in our hearts,
We got holes in our lives,
We got holes, we got holes,
But we carry on...."





Good night,

eed

Stagant

Growing up, I was convinced that the word stagnant was synonymous with death. Any health science instructor in a sub Saharan Africa can attest to that: "Always fear stagnant waters: they are a powerful health hazard". Stagnant waters are magnets for mosquitoes, which carry malaria, and potential death. I would know I have caught it twice.

I can still hear my 8th grade geology teacher telling us in class: "beware of stagnant waters". In the cold Ohio winter, stagnant waters can hide slippery ice and you may end up falling and hurting yourself (and your pride) if you don't pay attention. 

I have been stagnant in some areas of my life for quite some time now. There are many reasons for this, I suppose. The most obvious one being fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of rejection, fear of success.... I often tend to hesitate on the third step of the journey. The first ones are always exciting, new and full of hope. The more I keep on though, I start talking myself out of my any decisions I have made. Some people call it being cautious, other being indecisive. Your pick...

Don't get me wrong, I love to rest and be still. After I got home from work yesterday, I spent 96% of my time in my pajamas. It would have been a full 100% if I did not mind shoveling snow in them. I think what happens to me is that I start getting too comfortable in stagnant waters, and decide to hang out longer than I need to. Someone should invent a "stagnant water" test that would send you reminders, when it is time to move on.

I like to dream of what my life would be like it I were not so afraid of disturbing stagnant waters. Maybe I need to stop dreaming and get to it. I am getting tired of being stagnant. 

eed

The walk of life

On my drive to work this morning, one of the favorite songs from my childhood came on the radio: "Walk of life" by Dire Straits. Within the first few seconds of the song, I was transported to the back of my father's white Renault, on my way to school with my brother and sister. All of us were mumbling along to lyrics we did not understand, but made up a perfect translation to a then foreign language. In our young minds, the song was about a boy named Johnny, who apparently liked to walk for no apparent reason. 

Life was so simple back then. Our entire musical world was contained on two cassette tapes: the red tape and the black tape. Both tapes were in English, and since no one in my family understood the language yet,  it meant that we had to use our imaginations to translate and explain away any of the songs. It only took us a few weeks to figure out that the tapes were a compilation of different artists, and that Dire Straits had nothing to do with George Michael. I think it were I developed sort of ear of some of my favorite musicians, being able to recognize their "sounds" from the very first notes. 

My brother, sister and I (my youngest brother was still too young to go to school) created our own little world, where we did not need to understand our surroundings to know we belonged. My father always worked late, and could not pick us up from school, but the thirty minute morning ride was on the highlights of my younger days. Those two tapes, were the main reason why I was so eager to study English to share my new-found knowledge the next day. Ok, let's be honest, I was really just bragging....!

Louis Amstrong's "Wonderful world" is one of the first songs I ever memorized in English. We would serenade it to each other at the top of our lungs. It was easy, simple and beautiful. Just like these times on our way to school... My siblings and I may be in different lanes, but I am glad we are walking together on the walk of life. 

eed

What Trader Joes has taught me about life, love...and hoarding.

I walked into Trader Joes for the first time about five years ago. I tasted their infamous Goddess dressing  at a friend’s house and I knew I had to get to my hands on a bottle or three. The next day, I went in for salad dressing and almost instantly joined the TJs fan club. I recently found an old grocery list from 2008 and all it said was Goddess dressing. Ha!

Although changes in eating habits have created a wedge between me and what is still to this day my favorite dressing, I have discovered a lot about myself walking through the sometimes cramped aisles of Trader Joes.

- HOARDING: hoarding is okay, until it is not. 

There is only so much space you can stuff items in, until it becomes out of hand. I went through a phase when seaweed snacks were the best things ever invented in my world. Every time I walked into the store, I would buy at least 2 packs, until I ended up with a giant pile of seaweed snacks and no taste for them. By the time, the stack was higher than my cupboards, I had already moved on to coconut chips (yum!). I am pretty sure I have learned my lesson though… I have given away as many seaweed snacks as I could, except one, as a reminder. Sure, hoarding material things can be a comfort to some, but it took me some time to figure out that there were more important things in life, like my family and my friends.

The ONLY exception to this  is seasonal items… there may or may not be a stack of Christmas peppermint green tea in my cupboard at the time I am writing this post....

(What is this?)

- LOVE: cherish what you have, when you have it, because it may be gone in an instant. 

Sometime it is gone until the next truck comes along, other times, it is gone forever. Sure it may come back after a while and you may think that things will be the same or even better. That is until you realize that something is definitely off. That’s right, I am talking to YOU Everything crackers... I am not sure what they did to you while you were gone for so long, but the impostor on the shelves does not taste anything like you. You are nothing like the delicious cracker I tasted so long ago. Unless...unless… I am too stuck in my memories of you to realize that it is time to move on and try new things…

Speaking of!

-LIFE: move on...don’t be afraid to try new things. 

I am somewhat of a creature of habit, and this one is hard for me to stick to. For years, I walked into Trader Joes with a list of my favorite things, and bought the same items over and over. Until the day, they ran out of my favorite wine. I thought I was going to cry in the cluttered wine aisle. When a crew member tried to recommend their favorite wine, I decided to give it a shot. I hated it! Thankfully, that is kind of the point… learning to try new things. While I find comfort in knowing that tasting something I don’t like is not the end of the world, I sometimes find myself shying away from new experiences. I am getting better though, it is all a process, right?

This being a new year, and all, while I have decided to once again not have resolutions that I will break in the first three weeks; I am ready to try more things, visit different places, set new goals, and open my heart a little more.

Here is to 2014! Cheers!

eed

Risk- by Anaïs Nin

RISK

And then the day came, 
when the risk 
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom

Anaïs Nin