Tag Archives: Personal

On My Mind

(Dis)connection

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I’ve been at a loss for words lately. I’ve been doing a lot of writing but abandoning drafts half formed, a lot of thinking but letting the thoughts go before uncovering them, playing with them, sharing them. I finished three (or was it four?) books this week, hoping their words would color the ideas I can’t seem to articulate.

A total sense of detachment from my own thoughts is strange. It’s like I’m watching myself try to figure out what I want to say and how I want to say it, staring out the windows of this café, half-noticing the people walking across the street. My own thoughts float lazily back to me, reminders that they’re there if I want to find them, introduce them to each other, engage with whatever is tugging at the back of my mind.

I’m an observer to my own mind. I’m lucid dreaming while awake.

On the surface, I’m preoccupied with a field trip, modified school schedules, papers to grade, end-of-year projects to implement. I can’t stop reading about healthcare and I can’t shake a deep sense of insecurity that I can’t quite place.

Oddly, however, discounting the healthcare travesty for the moment, it’s been a truly wonderful week. School was busy and productive and I laughed a lot. There was also a lot of socializing, which, while typical of my life in general, has not been typical of my life in New York. As usual when things happen, everything is happening all at once.

And that leaves me nostalgic.

I’m moving again over the summer (details on that after three more pieces of paper are finalized and signed) and that means starting over. When I know I’m about to say goodbye, I grow reluctant to do it. I grow more forgiving of the irritations and inconveniences I encounter, and begin to see them as endearing idiosyncrasies rather than sources of frustrations. I become aware of opportunities I haven’t taken, people I haven’t truly gotten to know, foods I haven’t tried, neighborhoods I haven’t explored, music I haven’t heard, sights I haven’t seen. As I make preparations to move for the fourth time in as many years, I begin to drag my feet, making mental (and sometimes physical) notes of what I’ll miss.

It’s never easy to leave.

And sometimes, it’s equally difficult to go.

I’ve learned that there’s a difference between leaving and going. The former means packing a life into boxes, hugging the people who have gone from being strangers to being friends, leaving the keys on the table, and waving goodbye. It’s a deliberate decision to stop turning back. It’s an exhale, a sigh, a conclusion. The latter is the first step forward, checking the time and setting the GPS, or handing over a passport to gate agents. It’s about deciding to take a chance, a gamble, a deep inhale. In going somewhere new, you’re supposed to be ready for anything. Otherwise, why go?

I didn’t do any of that when I moved to New York. I turned around in Singapore’s Changi Airport one more time after clearing passport control, and that was when I knew I was heading down a road leading to a very different future than the one I hadn’t admitted I was hoping for.

My mind has been spinning at night, which is apparent when I wake up before my alarm, when I look at my watch at the end of a run, when my dreams are fragments of conversations not had. I’m floating in between a life I might have had and a life I hope to have. Maybe you just weren’t ready, a friend suggested yesterday. I think she’s right.

What if I’m never ready? What if, now that I know what I’m looking for (including, not limited to, and largely involving authentic connection and collaboration with those around me) and what I want to do (change the world), none of it ever comes to fruition?

That’s the big step forward I mentioned earlier. It’s admitting what I’m looking for and want to do and committing to that. It’s dedicating my actions, relationships, and career to those things rather than trying to figure out what those things are. And it’s daunting because failure, readjustment, modification, and heartbreak are all likely along the road ahead.

But so are success, achievement, happiness, and love.

Because that’s what living means. As it has been. As it will be.

There’s no stopping in place because places don’t stop. There’s no turning back time because time can’t turn. There are no crystal balls, nothing foretold, foreknown, or predetermined. There are roads, as Dante and Frost said, and some roads are less traveled.

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On My Mind

What Scares Me

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My sixth graders have recently come up with a game. Before class begins, they hide just inside our classroom while I wait outside the door greeting each student as he or she walks in. While I’m doing this, the students inside the room jump out and yell, “Boo!” And then they laugh uproariously when I turn around slowly with my eyebrows raised, completely unfazed.

What my sixth graders don’t realize, among other things, is that part of teaching middle school means constantly being prepared for anything and taking it all in stride even when you aren’t.

The first time this happened, the kids asked in awe, “How are you not scared?”

I replied simply, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

They were stunned. One student spent two days listing off different events or activities that might scare me (i.e. a tarantula in my bedroom, climbing a mountain, skydiving) and consistently expressed surprise when I disagreed that each would be scary. While a tarantula in my bedroom might be uncomfortable and concerning and skydiving might be nerve-wracking and exhilarating, neither strike me as remotely scary.

“Things” don’t scare me. They never have.

Truth be told, however, I am more afraid now than I ever remember being.

Real Fears
With Donald Trump as the President-elect, there’s a lot to be afraid of.

And I am.

I am a woman, a naturalized US citizen (and I vividly remember the anxiety in our house when we applied for and received our Green Cards), and a religious minority. The vast majority Trump’s rhetoric and early policy proposals hit right where it hurts.

I have been inappropriately touched, spoken to, and spoken about on the subway. More than once. More than twice.

I have seen swastikas spraypainted on more than a few buildings.

My reproductive rights are at risk. As a result, so is my health. The affordability and accessibility of healthcare is uncertain.

My status as a person has plummeted and I no longer feel safe when I go running after dark.

I care deeply about the well-being of all people all over the world and of the health of the planet itself, so just about everything else Trump says is also cause for concern. My heart goes out to everyone who is a victim of the hatred caused by fear, which is a constantly increasing number. America promised to stand for the “tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free” and I will. I purposely smile every time I see a women in a hijab and men holding hands on the street.

Stand strong. I stand with you.

I am afraid of the rhetoric that half this country has deemed acceptable.

In short, everything about the recent US presidential election scares me.

And I need to keep bringing it up because I refuse to sit by and wait for history to repeat itself. We know what happens when fear gets the better of us. We fought World War II already. An estimated 50 million to 80 million people died.

Personal Fears
These are irrelevant compared to the much more significant discussion above, but I’m going to include them anyway. If my fears about the political state of this country and the world are enough for you, stop reading here. (No hard feelings! Come back soon!)

Otherwise, here we go:

I’m afraid of being alone forever. I’m afraid of never being able to express my love for others with the depth, intensity, and care that I desperately want to. I’m afraid no one will love me enough to keep me.

I’m afraid of not making a difference in this world. I’m afraid of not making it better.

Looking Ahead
My sixth graders ask, “How are you not scared?”

I am.

Bu my sixth graders don’t need to know. They are already far more attuned to racism, sexism, violence, xenophobia, anti-immigration sentiment, anti-LGBT sentiment, discrimination, prejudice, and other issues than I was at their age. They live in a world dominated by fear, and this is where that fear has brought us.

Afraid? Very much so.

Giving up? Not on your life.

Now more than ever, I am committed to understanding the concerns of those around me. As I do so, I will continue working to build a world that is truly sustainable, better, and more peaceful for all who call it home.

Please join me.

Fear is the main source of superstition and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom. – Bertrand Russell

New York

City Living

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Last week was the busiest week I’ve had since I moved here and it was great!

Monday was my night at home and therefore the only night I went to bed at a reasonable hour.

On Tuesday, my roommate and I had dinner at Raclette, a very cool restaurant in the East Village that highlights raclette cheese in all of its dishes. Not a good place for those with sensitivities to dairy. Delicious for the rest of us.

On Wednesday, Ally and I saw The Great Comet at the Imperial Theatre. It was my third Broadway show ever and it was amazing. The show is a beautifully presented adaptation of part of Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. The set and costumes were visually appealing, the music was engaging, exciting, and surprising, and the story itself was compelling. We laughed, looked around in sheer shock, experienced a lengthy strobe light sequence, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. And we had Thai food before the show, which was also delicious. Lots of good eating this week!

Thursday had me back in Times Square to meet up with my brother, who was in town for the night because of a networking event organized by the business school at his college. He had no recollection of ever visiting New York as a kid. It was a delight to see the city through his eyes and hear his observations about everything I’ve ceased to notice, like off-leash dogs, the “mixed retail” of apartments, restaurants, and businesses, and the constant noise pollution from traffic.

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My parents were in town for the weekend, which was just so comforting in every way. I am alone a lot on the weekends and I was very glad to be with the two people who probably care about me the most. They’re both been to New York as tourists more than a few times so we largely wandered around in the sunshine with a few food-related destinations in mind. We ate a lot: Bar Virage, Shilla Restaurant, Glaser’s Bake Shop, North Square, The Coffee Shop, and Breads Bakery.

We also, however, visited the 9/11 Memorial Saturday morning, which was really moving. I was in sixth grade on September 11, 2001. That was when I learned that war existed outside of history books. That was when I learned that there are people in this world who aim to harm those around them. That was when I learned that growing up without knowing this was a privilege.

Survivor Tree
From inside the Mall
White roses are a birthday tribute by family members

9/11 changed the world. My students have grown up never knowing the peace and security that I knew as a child. They have never been blissfully ignorant of war, suffering, terror, and fear. It is vexing to me that we do so little to emphasize the importance of peace and dialogue in our schools and in our societies.

I would recommend a visit to the 9/11 Memorial not only as a tribute, but also as a way of starting a conversation about the world we want to build and how to do it.

The parents and I reflected on 9/11 as we walked through the city together. None of us had ever been inside, so we briefly stopped into St. Patrick’s to look around:

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I love religious architecture because it prompts me to think about the people who did the work. I wonder whether the financial, labor, and time contributions were voluntary or forced, a product of devotion or duty. My favorite book about precisely this is Pillars of the Earth. It’s a novel and it’s excellent.

Speaking of books, we also made a visit to The Strand. I love it there but have yet to master the art of browsing without buying.

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So many books!

I walked away with Sex at Dawn, which I first spotted on my last visit to The Strand a few weeks ago. I’m currently in the middle of three other books (Empowering Global Citizens, Moral Failure, and Tender is the Night) so it will be a bit until I open it. All of this alone time, while not my preference, has been rather productive in terms of reading and learning.

It was nice to experience being in New York with a wide range of people this week. It makes me somewhat nostalgic for what could have been, but also anticipatory about what can be. I’m now into my fourth month here and things are still difficult; I wasn’t prepared for such an adjustment and I’m trying really hard. This week, I was glad to be around people who reminded me what’s possible.