Tag Archives: Friends

Across the Bay

My summer break this year started with a few days in San Francisco before I crossed the bridge into Berkeley for the Greater Good Science Center Summer Institute for Educators. I’ve been trying to go to this institute for a few years and I’m finally not moving countries so my school agreed to fund my attendance! The summer institute focuses on socio-emotional learning (SEL), mindfulness, and character education, all of which are at the core of how I believe education can make the world a better, more peaceful place. One of my leadership roles at school is closely tied to SEL and I attended the institute for reasons of personal growth as both an educator and individual and to develop as a leader. I won’t go into the details of the institute here, but please send me a message if you’d like to hear about it! It was a very valuable experience and I’d really love to chat!

Every morning of the institute began with an optional hike or yoga class, which was a clear indication that I’d be spending the week with a group of 8- like-minded people. Choosing between the two activities was easy – I love yoga but one can’t hike the Berkeley Hills anywhere but Berkeley. Beginning the day with time outside in the sunshine makes me very, very happy and a way to start the day feeling alive. The weather at the beginning of the week was chilly, cloudy, and a bit rainy (the first rain in months, we were told) but it quickly turned bright, sunny, and just gorgeous.

The flowers were beautiful, too, whether cultivated in gardens or growing freely in nature. I love seeing the differences between flora (and fauna, for that matter) in different places.

The hikes gave us beautiful views of San Francisco, too, which got better as the weather cleared up, though the locals explained that the marine layer of fog does take time to burn off.

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The institute concluded daily at 5pm and with one exception I spent each night wandering through town with new friends. It’s amazing how people can come to know each other in such a short time under the right circumstances, and I’m really grateful that this was the case. The night I didn’t spend in Berkeley was special, too, because I went to neighboring Alameda to reunite with Singapore friends who moved to Paraguay the year that I moved to New York! I was really glad we could make that work, especially because we missed each other by a day in Washington, DC last summer. I love having people all over the world.

The part of Berkeley around the university was definitely in summer mode. Shops and restaurants had limited hours and were pretty empty, which was both a blessing and a curse. But there were also parts of town that were more “real people” than “college kid”. It made me laugh because I was mentally comparing everything I saw and everywhere we went to Syracuse University where I went to school; our “college kid” was Marshall Street and “real people” was Armory Square. But it was fun to look around, especially considering Berkeley’s social activist history, People’s Park, and excellent street art.

I really enjoyed my time in Berkeley and it was nice to have some time there to collect and wrap up my thoughts about the school year before travelling to Rochester to be with my family. This was an institute for educators, after all, and I did have one assignment to complete for work.

I know I’ve said this about a few different places lately, but I think Berkeley is somewhere I could live in great contentment. There are beautiful places to hike, the weather was glorious (based on my sample size of the last week of June), and the food was delicious. It’s close to San Francisco and it’s near the water. Yoga, zen, and vegetarianism were everywhere.

But then again, especially because I’ve been thinking like this a lot, maybe it’s not so much the place that makes the difference but the mindset that I have while in a certain place, the person I am in that place. Because what do I actually need? What do I want? The simpler those things are to obtain, the easier it is to feel content exactly where I am.

Maybe I’m getting better at that.

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Very small me and very tall tree

On Dreams

I think I’m a lucid dreamer. Or maybe this is just how dreams go. The science behind lucid dreaming is sketchy at best, as is much of the science behind sleep, but I know where I am in many of my dreams and make decisions about what I want to happen next. Once I’ve woken up, sometimes I can fall back into the dream and redo what has already “happened.” My own laughter has woken me more than once in the middle of the night, but I don’t think I’ve ever woken up in tears. I think the last time I had a nightmare was in college. I woke up with my arm outstretched, grabbing at something that wasn’t there.

I dreamed about this blog post last night. Or, rather, I dreamed about what I was actually thinking but couldn’t articulate when I spent a couple hours writing yesterday afternoon. That’s why I’m rewriting it.

We sleep. Neurons fire. Things make more sense once our brains have had time to process.

Last night I dreamed about love. I dreamed about what we used to talk about, where we used to go, what we used to do. I woke up with a physical ache that I soothed by resetting my breathing; I turned off that dream before rolling over to fall back asleep. I liked the memories. I didn’t like the longing. Dreams can pull us back into the past and the past can be dangerous. Just look at Gatsby.

I’ve learned that it is one thing to dwell on the past, to romanticize it and see it through rose-colored glasses, but it is quite another, I think, to look upon the past as an old friend, with the knowing smile that comes from the expected. The school year is ending, which means that this, too, will join the past. This is the time of year when I begin to look back on what was, which always leads me to think about what could be or could have been.

“The past” enters, stage left.

Since my life follows a school calendar, “next year” begins with the start of the school year in August and “this year” ends in just a week. Soon, I’ll speak of “last year,” meaning right now and the ten months preceding it. Where we are now, the “end of the year,” is a lot of fun, busy, and always bittersweet. At international schools, we say goodbye a lot and at least for me, it never gets easier. We turn over a lot of new leaves.

Sometimes I indulge when I find myself feeling sentimental. Sometimes I go up to the roof and sit in the dark, eyes closed, Lana del Rey or Bon Iver filling my ears, a soundtrack for feelings too wrapped up in themselves to be put to words. Sometimes I run through a few old favorites – things that were, unspoken dreams of things that will never be, imagination for what is still within the realm of possible but only on a technicality. My mind is filled with people I’ve known and loved, maybe for a long time or maybe they’re brand new. People come and go in transient cities, in international schools, and we’re often just counting time.

Thinking about the end of the year got me thinking about the past and is likely why I dreamed about a love I once had. The past becomes the story we tell ourselves, true or not, and it’s what we do with the story that matters. We write those stories all the time.

This is the end of the school year, prompting me to write the story about wanting to be better next year. This is the part when I am reminded of why, how, and who I was. Who I am. Who I can be. This is the part that reminds me of the people who have been with me along the way and I miss them, even if we have yet to be apart.

But of course, sometimes, my imagination catches me off guard, an enemy rather than a friend. Those are the times when I find myself angry or hurt, which are really just emotions that mask feeling fear. Maybe I don’t have nightmares because I can admit when I’m afraid. It doesn’t come up in the dark the way it used to and I don’t push it away as insistently anymore. I’ve learned to make my peace with people and times and events, recall what I’ve learned from them, and wish them well.

When I let my mind wander, I find myself writing stories about what I want and what I hope for, both for myself and for others. I invent conversations that I wish had taken place, rewrite conversations that could have easily gone another way, and imagine conversations yet to happen. Sometimes my imagination is like a tape that won’t stop running, no matter how many times I press stop. Sometimes it fills me such delight that it’s almost disappointing to keep my dreams to myself. And sometimes I catch myself with a silly grin on my face and can’t help but laugh out loud. I think about my people, the broad category that they are, and hold them tightly.

The end of the year is a time of transition. Living on a school calendar provides a convenient opportunity to make changes, restart, and try again, but it also forces endings and beginnings, often sooner than I’m ready for them.

But here we are. Already. So soon. And yet, we thought it would never come. Or so we told ourselves months ago. There’s so much time and never enough. This is the time to remember or say goodbye to people who have built my dreams, occupied a space in my mind and made it their own. It’s the time to send love and good wishes half the world over, to those gone, those going, and all of those I have left behind.

Thank you for being part of my story, part of my dreams. Lucky are those who will come to know you; lucky are we who already do.

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On Happiness

I’m teaching the culture part of a unit on sociocultural psychology. We talk about values and norms and the ways that people in different cultures remember, learn, and express what they know. We talk about learning how to behave in our own cultures and becoming part of new cultures. We talk about expectations. We talk about what it means to be happy.

Most of the time, happiness for me actually means contentment. It means feeling okay with and good about what’s happening immediately around me. Less “Wow, how awesome!” and more “This is really nice.” In the book How Emotions Are Made Lisa Feldman Barrett explains that there’s a difference between North American “happy happy joy joy” and East Asian tranquility and equanimity. We don’t all conceive of happiness in the same way and those differences are very important for the way we view the world. I was in the musical You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown back in high school and the closing number, “Happiness,” got me every time.

Though we sometimes forget it in the age of Instagram, Buzzfeed Top Ten lists, and selfie sticks, happiness is in simplicity.


I’ve been thinking about that a lot recently. Several times over the last few weeks, a conversation from half a year ago has returned to mind. I was with a friend who I’ve only seen once or twice since, neither of us speaking much that day. We were both concerned with and unsettled by the future. We were uncertain. Jobs, choices, change, moving, moving on. After some moments of silence, my friend asked, “What makes you happy?”

I remember it took me several seconds to respond. I remember the knot in my stomach and how I had to acknowledge it, experience it, and admit to it before I could let it go. I was not feeling happy in that moment and answering the question took time.

“Lots of things,” I replied, intellectually knowing this was the right answer even if I couldn’t quite feel it.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, things.” It took a moment, but there’s a lot to be said for state-dependent memory (and learning). Once the ideas came, they came quickly. “The smell of coffee. Sunny mornings with a breeze. Being outside. Books. Writing. Taking pictures. Being with friends and family. Intimate moments. Traveling. Learning new things. Delicious vegetables. Making food for people.”


That conversation has come back to me strangely often in the last few weeks. I’ve been experiencing a sort of mental shift, I think, one that started when I was in Europe at the beginning of April. Over the last month, I’ve grown more accustomed to the calm and quiet that my mind has found. Sometimes I find myself feeling okay in a situation or with thoughts that would have bothered me just weeks ago. This is good.

Maybe this is what it means to grow up. Maybe there’s wisdom in letting go, in observing, and in accepting today without judgment. There certainly seems to be freedom there. The only thing I know for sure is that a better version of myself is one who sees happiness in all the small moments that occur every day, and I’m glad to be there right now.