Suitcase

I just unpacked my suitcase
I thought that you should know
It means that I am staying--
It means I will not go

At least not for a while
At least not far away
I'm telling you i'm here now
At least for today

You know I could go anywhere
You know the world's my home
I don't have a single care
And welcome the unknown

But I unpacked my suitcase
I put it away
I am here to stay, you see. . .


At least for today

Elephants & Ham

The other day my dear mother called to wake me up at 7AM with great news:

“Rosie! I have great news. I met a guy who can get you a job selling ham! $11/hr plus commission. Here’s the website. . .” I hung up the phone, grinned ear to ear, and said aloud, to myself,

“Why not.”

This is where I am in life. Ham sales? Why not.

I have an interview with Honey Baked Ham tomorrow. What I’m saying is. . . that I will be attending an interview, to attempt to acquire a job—selling HAM.

Currently, I wait tables at The Little Hills Winery & Restaurant. Before that? Before that, my life looked like this:

·      Nanny

·      Hostess

·      Fire technician/disaster relief

·       News and Editorial Writer

·      Copy Editor

·      Help Desk Assistant

·      Day Camp Counselor

·      Waitress

·      Summer Intern/Disaster Relief Team Leader

·      Bartender

·      Live-in Youth Care Specialist

·      Volunteer Humanitarian

·      Fundraiser- clean water wells

·      Freelance Photographer

·      Mental Health Para Professional

·      Psych Tech

·      ESL Teacher

·      Volunteer demo/roofer- Oklahoma Rebuild

·      Waitress

·      Production Assistant-#Killing Poe

 This does not make for a very fabulous resume. Lots of experience? Yes. But experience in 37 different career fields doesn’t help much when on the job hunt. Employers want to see consistency, which is obviously something I lack.

This list also proves a problem when I am asked (as I often am, as of late):

“So, what do you do?”

I do not know what I do. Do I say I am a server? A photographer? A writer? A humanitarian? A ham sales rep? All of the above?

Since returning to the States, it has been my goal to secure a career in Fundraising and Development with a nonprofit organization. I thought this would be easy, given my experience in national and international fundraising and my natural flair for convincing people/employers I am exactly what they are looking for.

It is not.

But I have learned something of great value in the 4 months I have been stateside. And that is this:

I don’t need a career.

At least not right now. Not this moment.

Not yet.

I just thought I did. I thought I needed one and more than that, I thought I wanted one. Turns out I don’t. The last four months have been a crazy mix of love and loss and heartache and depression and highs and lows and inspiration and lack thereof. But more than anything, it has been 4 months that I have felt more alive than I ever have.

And it is because I am free.

It is because I am seeking Truth and going crazy and living intentionally—and  learning to bake, damnit.

I learned how to shingle a roof in Moore, Oklahoma. I roofed from 6am-9am with a group of total strangers I had met the night before. I roofed while watching the sunrise over the train tracks and the debris of a tornado ravaged city.

I drove to Chicago—twice—to work as a Production Assistant for a feature film (#Killing Poe). I worked alongside SAG actors and actresses. I worked 12- 18 hour days. I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. I watched the sunrise over Lake Michigan and then swam nude in the oceanic freshwater with not a soul in sight but a new dear friend.

I kayaked the Buffalo. And Creve Couer Lake. And the Sac River. And the Meramac. And I’m about to hit up a The Big Caney in Nashville.

I received a 115% tip. I made friends with my other ‘customers’ who may not have tipped incredibly generously, but whom left me with phone numbers, e-mails, job offers, words of encouragement—and mailed me a book.

I came up with 29 things I CAN DO.

I saw the Redbirds play twice—both times in box seats—both times for FREE.

I used my photography from India to advocate for the slum children I met and loved. I found someone to help complete my Uganda sustainable farm project funding video.

And most recently? Most recently I fed the entire ER waiting room at Barnes Jewish hospital in St. Louis. There were 50+ people. All waiting. All hungry. After sharing peanuts, grapes and beef jerky with 5 year-old Reejanda sitting next to me, I realized everyone present was eyeing our feast.

So I went to the cafeteria. And I came back with $37 in fritos, dorritos and funions.

If I had a 9 to 5 job in development, I would have done none of the above. I would have been working. I would not have been able to go to Oklahoma for a week here and there. To Chicago for a week here and there. I would not have had the time for random advocacy projects and spending 13 hours in the ER with a friend. I would not be able to get up and go almost whenever I please.

My dear old dad told me a story about a time when he was 5 years old and on set of a famous Charleton Heston movie. He was an extra, and one of the producers asked his mother if my dad could get on an elephant (The Greatest Show on Earth). She willingly volunteered my dad, but he was too terrified and began screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I could have been the boy on the elephant,” my dad said to me, oozing with regret.

While chatting over ice cream a few days later, talking about my recent part in movie production, my dad y jokingly—yet somehow very seriously—turned to me and said,

“Just remember, if you ever get the chance to get on the elephant, make sure you do.”

I smiled and said I would.

Later, while driving to the city and pondering my father’s sage advice, I realized something.

I realized that I have.

I got on the elephant.

In the jungles of Northern Thailand, I got on the elephant. And I rode it bareback for hours. And I gave it a mud bath. And I swam with it in the river. And I fed it bananas and sugar cane. It was expensive, and in a hard to get to place, but I specifically remember turning to my boyfriend while discussing the elephant opportunity and saying, “When will you ever get the chance to ride an elephant through a jungle again? No matter what, we have to ride the elephants.”

I think my dad was referring more to a metaphorical elephant—but still. The point is that I suddenly felt so hopeful, upon realizing that I had. I had got on the elephant. Not only in Thailand, but in traveling India. In teaching in Korea. In snorkeling in Malaysia. In drilling a well in Africa. In serving in New Orleans. In writing and editing in college. In building homes in Oklahoma. In producing a movie in Chicago. In playing ultimate frisbee and joining the couchsurfing(.org) community in order to meet people in any way I can. In instituting ‘baked good Saturdays’ at Little Hills. In feeding the entire ER waiting room.

So what if I don’t have a career. Or an accurate job title, for that matter. So what if my response to “What do you do?” consists of , “Ummm. . . Korea . . .teacher . . .photography . . . . some humanitarian aid . . . wait tables . . . ham sales? Not sure . . .”

I got on the elephant.

If you ever get the chance—get on the elephant.

Thanks to the Lou

Back in Korea my boyfriend and I started a tradition of thanks. At the end of each day, we wrote down 10 things we were thankful for that day and one thing we had learned.  At first, this was quite a difficult task. It is not exactly natural (at least for me) to think throughout the day, "I am so thankful for this glass of water. This air I breathe. This disrespectful Korean child. . ."

I don't think that gratefulness is a natural human instinct for anyone. I think it has to be learned. And the more often we forced ourselves to sit down and think through our day, intentionally recognizing all we had been given, the more natural it became. Eventually, it became less of a chore and developed into something we even looked forward to.

My favorite part of it all was sharing with each other what we had written down for the day. It was always eye opening to see what the other person had recognized in that given day.

Sadly, I have not practiced the art of thankful writing in months. The last 'thankful' journal entry I have is dated back in March, when I was in London for an evening en route back to the States. My excuse for lack of thankfulness is that I always wrote my thanks and things learned and then shared it with "Bob."

Well, Bob's not around anymore. And although there have been several times I seriously considered sitting down to contemplate my day intentionally, I have not—out of Fear. What if I have another break down? Who will I share my thankfulness/things learned with? I have no one to read it to. I just can’t.

False.

I can.

Bob is gone, folks. And that leaves you :)

Today I am thankful for:

1) HGTV. I grew up without cable. And I could care less about real estate. But for some reason HGTV calms me. It miraculously distracts me from my own meandering and often depressing thoughts. It makes me think of my dear friend A.P. in Fayetteville and all the times we watched International House Hunters over sleepytime tea or red wine.

2) A meeting with my mom's boss concerning a career change into non-profit development. It was actually quite helpful and encouraging. There is hope. . . I will not wait tables for the rest of my life. . . maybe.

3) 'Tour of Homes' with Coldwell Banker Gundaker. Am I a real estate agent? No, I am not. Do I ever wish to be? Absolutely not. But sometimes my dear mother likes to take me along on her real estate ventures and act as if we are a mother-daughter realator team. Today I enjoyed touring a 93 year old three-story home complete with pet odor (hair + urine) strong enough to make any grown man violently vomit and then faint. The tour of homes was entertaining, to say the least. Anything to float your boat, Mom :)

4) Coffee date with sister. Enough said.

5) Full 45 minute afternoon nap, completely void of howling siamese cat and 9 neighbor dogs barking incessantly at aboslutely nothing.

6) A splendidly cool/functional a/c in my car on days such as this 93 and humid St. Louis day.

7) Bike rides and blueberry ale.

8) A life-altering conversation with my big bro’ over Shakespeare’s pizza and Shock Top.

9) The opportunity to meet at least 15 new people every time I go into work at the Little Hills.

10) Wine bottling. Historic stone brewery. Donuts. Classic Rock. Free wine.

*Today I learned:

That I don’t have to freak out over going to my ultimate frisbee game because “he’s the one who taught me how to play.” I don’t have to pretend I never taught in Korea or traveled Southeast Asia “because I went with him and I just can’t talk about it.” I don’t have to quit being thankful “because that was our tradition.”

So here’s to ultimate.

And to traveling the world.

And to giving thanks.

And to everything else I’ve avoided for the last three months because it reminded me of him. 

Here’s to living beyond the pain.

On Fear

Today I got an email from Bethany. It was a reply to my reply. She had written me her heart and I had responded in the most sincere and empathetic way I knew how—also attempting to take myself off the pedestal she had placed me on.  I was vulnerable. I was authentic. And I hoped she would remove me from the high place in which she had placed me, for I feared if she didn’t, one day I would simply come tumbling down without either of us having any sort of control. I do not belong there. On a pedestal.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t take me off her pedestal. In fact, she told me that she knew she had placed me there and intended it to stay that way because it is where I belong. Bethany told me that one thing she loves most about me is that I have no fear—“You just do things.” She said I do things without worrying about the outcome—I just act, fearlessly. She said she wishes she could be more that way.

What?

Less than 24 hours previous to me reading these Bethany thoughts I sat in the car with my dad sobbing uncontrollably, telling him my greatest weakness in life. . . is fear.

It causes anxiety, panic attics, nausea along with a vast array of other physical ailments. “It is debilitating!” I yelled between tears to my father.

But Bethany—she says I am fearless.

And that got me to thinking, what if I am?

What if I am fearless after all, but Negativity and Disbelief in Self wants so badly to work its way into my mind and prevent me from doing great things that I accept as truth that I AM AFRAID.

My friend Fern says that fearful people don’t move to Africa with a girl they’ve seen twice and ‘known’ for only two months.

They don’t return to Africa alone.  

They don’t move to a new city where they don’t know a soul—and stay.

They don’t go overseas to teach ESL for a year and travel Southeast Asia.

They don’t pick up hitchhikers or make friends with burly bearded homeless men.

They don’t river kayak and make friends with strangers along the way.

So you see, FEAR does not own me after all.

And it doesn’t own you either.