Transitions

He shifts in his seat and there is an uneasiness in his eye as he answers, "I'm okay. Things are pretty good. I can't complain."

We shift to the other people at the table for a beat. About a minute passes and I turn to him.

In earnest, I ask, "Are you okay?" Waiting for an answer beyond the polite answer I got to my initial "How are you?"

"Yeah."

"You feel like you're in transition."

"Wha??? What do you mean by that? That's a conversation starter right there."

"Really?" I ask, "I was just being honest."

We get interrupted as more people join our holiday party and say hello. I know it's not done though. A few minutes later he turns to me and asks me to clarify.

My friend is not one of those close, close friends where we know everything about each other but we are more than acquaintances. However, there are phases when we click and share and truly connect.

"You just feel like you've got things going well on one part of your life and that's moving but there's a part of your life that is stuck. That's taking more of your focus and energy."

"That's pretty much on the button. That's very astute of you."

"It was in the way you answered my question. They way you were unsure and hemmed and hawed when you answered."

Transitions are like that. They do take a lot of energy and focus. If you want to put it into scientific terms, as I will since I'm the product of two scientists and a science family, taking a material from one state into another takes a lot of energy.

Think about water. We need energy to create water vapor so it turns into a gas. We need energy to turn ice into liquid water.

Life is no different. We hit these points where we get stuck in-between states. Where we can either stay where we are or move into a new form. To grow and transform into a new state or phase of our lives. But it takes a lot of our energy to get there. We have to focus a lot of energy there to move on.

Everyone, at some point in their lives goes through this. Sometimes it only takes a little energy. The transition isn't huge. Sometimes it takes a lot because the transformation is going to be radical.

I'd like to say I recognized what was going on in my friend because I'm super duper intuitive and psychic. But, the truth is that I recognize it because I've been there.

Haven't we all?

Why I don't Facebook

I'm sitting at my desk and I look to my left. I look behind me, and I look to my right. The common denominator? Everyone's on Facebook. Ironically, I was the first one on at work and got everyone else to join.

People ask me now why I left. There are a lot of different answers. The ugly facelifts, wanting back my life...but when you get down to the nitty gritty, it's about what I value. What really matters?

It's the meaning of life question that everyone asks. It's about relationships and people. This, coming from a person so comfortable with tasks. Getting it done.

I know this means I have to live an uncomfortable life in order to have a fulfilling one. To have a life of quality.

It's about reaching out of my comfort zone beyond the tasks so that there will be someone to go to during the times when I really want to share something. Quality of life includes having a community who genuinely cares for you as a person and if you don't show up for awhile you'll be missed.

I border on introversion and extroversion. It depends on the period of my life and what is going on. Most of the time, it's simpler to focus inwards. To feel like I've completed something, gotten something done. Tasks over people. But it's not satisfying. Just simpler.

The moments in my life that satiate my spirit have been true connections with people. Often while traveling. It can be with strangers you strike up conversations with that go deep--then you never see that person again. Or friends, family, and loves you share your lives with--beyond the surface scratchings. People who know how ugly you can be but love you despite it all.

That's why I don't like Facebook. It doesn't feed that need in me for a deep connection. To understand another human being spirit to spirit. It's time I'd rather spend writing a handwritten letter, speaking to a person on the phone, or visiting with a person face to face.

Now, where is that stationary?...

Gender Disappointment from the child's side

"Why do you have a boy's name?"
I pause. "Hunh?"
"Your name, my friend has a son with that name. Your name is a boy's name."

It's my second trip to Taiwan and I'm here for my Grandfather's funeral. Asian funerals are long and drawn out. But that's another story.

My parents never hid the fact that they actually wished for a boy and got a girl. First with my sister and then with me. The only difference was they only planned for two children so I was supposed to be the last chance at a boy.

As a child, you take it in. Babies are very perceptive. More than a lot of people realize. The sense that something is wrong and it's your fault. But you have no control over it. And, of course, it's not really your fault.

Recently I had a conversation with someone on this topic and it was like a light bulb went off.

Now an adult old enough to have my own children; I can see patterns of constant apologies to other people for being who I am. It's not necessarily apologizing for being a girl but apologizing for the characteristics that make me - me. Things I really have no control over.

The sense that who I am is inadequate is something I've struggled against my whole life. That no matter how much I try to do the right thing whatever I do is wrong. Other more personal, specific issues that I won't discuss here have cropped up as well.

I'm not angry at my parents for feeling the way they felt. How you feel about something isn't necessarily something you can control. Also, much of that desire for a boy is ingrained so deeply culturally that I can see their point of view. Plus, they don't feel that way anymore. I know they love me as a girl.

Four years after my birth, an unplanned but very welcome surprise came. My baby brother joined our family to much joy and my parents got their boy. I got the brother I'd always wanted.

Recently, my sister and I went to China on a visit. We came across a shop that sold chops. Marble block stamps with a person's name carved into it that are often used as seals for artwork. My dad had one made for my brother when he was young on a trip to Taiwan. We asked for one and were told we couldn't get them because we were girls.

This shop had no qualms about selling us each one and it secretly made me jump up and down with glee knowing that I now had something that was at one time reserved for the male sex. I use it on a lot of my personal correspondence. Stamping it and looking at it makes me feel a sense of contentment. Like a whole history in one artistic red box.

"Your name is a very special name. Not a lot of people have this name. The character use is very, very, rare and very special," my dad says. I'm eight or nine and learning how to write my name in Mandarin. I look at it and smile. It's very special. And it's mine.

China - An Amazing Journey

"What Happened?"

"She got her leg caught in a wall trench by the stairs and it looks bad."

"At her shin? Is her leg broken?"

"I don't know but she was crying and the medical team was working on her. They're borrowing Kathy's wheelchair."

"It's so sad that she came all the way here and then won't be running the marathon."

We're all sweating and hanging out by the bus. We've just spent the morning & afternoon walking the 5K leg of The Great Wall Marathon. The pre-event event is to let the runners know what they're in for. Those who were making snide comments about this pre-event before we began walking the leg of the wall are now panting and subdued. No longer snide, but humbled. We're all humbled.

In creating the Great Wall of China the Chinese knew what they were doing. To prevent enemies from being able to maneuver the wall the architects created stairs that were not of even height. Some go to your hip. Some are super shallow. And they change randomly. Then every once in awhile when you expect a stair you get a trench that goes across the wall like a cattle ha-ha only without any sort of grill or slope and it's knee deep. Just the trench. In the dark of night or, in the bright of day when you're not looking where you're going, it can put you in a wheelchair.

"So how was your trip?"

"Fine, I'm really jet lagged."

My answer, though honest, is deflective. When asked, and I don't know why, I'm not ready to answer the question.

In the month passing, it's become clearer and I can reflect upon my feelings about the trip. China is a conundrum. Super modern on some levels there is the underlying time worn belief system. No longer fully Communist, Capitalism thrives. But it thrives without regulation. Like the child who was raised in an overly strict household who finds him/herself in college with total freedom and little experience with self imposed self-discipline.

The sun shines down through the trees and at least 20 toddlers run around with their elderly grandparents looking on. It's a beautiful day and the tour group has dropped us at a local park to take photos and hang out. It's not a usual tour spot. It's to give us a flavor of the local life.

"Did you notice?" said the woman next to me.

"Huh?" I respond.

"Did you notice? The kids."

I turn and look again. Without my glasses I can't see the details but I do notice. Without fail...boy, boy, boy, boy, boy, boy, boy, boy, boy...and it goes on. One girl. She's about 7 years old.

"Where are all the girls?" I ask.

"In the orphanage South of the city," responds a man who has been here a few times before.

I look around again and remember someone mentioning that the one child rule still applied in China.

"What happens when all these boys grow up?" I ask.

The other tourists shake their heads and we move on.

China is a set of contradictions. Both beautiful and super shiny clean, Beijing also has air pollution from nearby coal power plants. The Westernized parts show modern architecture to rival any city. Go a few blocks into the hidden neighborhoods that are off in alleyways away from the major streets and you find people living in poor conditions. Shanty housing. And you realize there is another side to this city. One that remains uncovered to the average tourist.

My sister and I, after spending time in rural Taiwan and various 2nd and 3rd world countries, knew that these parts existed. We recognized them as we went past.

My conflict runs deep. My ancestors, if you go back far enough, come from China. The culture is recognizable in patches from my childhood living with my immigrant parents. A part of me loves it. Identifies with it. A part of me doesn't recognize it at all and mourns for the people. Rooting for the people as they transition through these changes.

It was only within the last few years that China made a law to protect personal property. Until then, all property belonged to the government. For the first time people could buy homes and cars and it would belong to them. It's a big change. A shift in thought. A shift in life change that causes people to now look for ways to survive in a Capitalist society with no practice or training in how to do it. The people who know how -- become richer. Those who don't struggle.

My sister said it best. After spending some time in Pennsylvania Amish Country she said that the Amish choose their lot. They choose to live a certain way and they still have the benefit of a 1st world country. Medical help. Air conditioning. (Yes, she saw air conditioning used in an Amish home.)

But the people in China who live that life don't have a choice. They live the life of struggle because they have no other choice and they are just trying to survive. They don't have the luxury of being able to afford to purchase air conditioning. Sometimes they don't have the luxury of modern medicine nearby. It's a hard life.

"Marathoner coming through!" The lead Marathoner, a man running from China, comes flying through. We part like the Red Sea, cheering him on as we maneuver our own route, until he slips down the dirt and graveled path and grabs his leg. He's cramping and makes his way to the Wall to work out his leg. We all go silent until he works it out and says he's okay and continues on.

Not unlike China itself, the Great Wall was steep and at some points treacherous and at other points beautiful. At some parts a person has to focus and watch their footing. At others it's safe to marvel at the scenery without concern and take a breath.

At the awards dinner the woman next to me says that she's never seen healthy men, who have run marathons before, just go up 2 stairs and turn around and sit down out of need to rest. And other grown men cry. She saw one woman going up the stairs backwards on her butt slowly while others crawled. Literally.

It's late afternoon and I can hear the crowd in the Yin Yang Square cheering. The finish line looms. I see the leader from my tour group and one other member yelling my name. I'm sweating, my legs are trembling and I'm thrilled. Would I do this again? I'll have to think about it. But it's been an amazing journey.

The Search for Savings

"Hello, I was just wondering how much it would cost to get one spare car key cut?"

After my trip to Las Vegas where I'd lost my car key briefly right before the magic show performance (with all the magic equipment and the doves in my car) I've decided to cut 2 spare keys for myself. Locking my keys in the car is not the issue. Not being able to drive my car is the issue.

After answering a bunch of questions and adding up all the costs including $110 per key to program the little chip inside the total was $256 per key.

"Wow. Okay. Thank you." and I hang up.

Since this was the dealership I knew there had to be a cheaper way. So I go online. I find a site where I can order the key with a chip without all the fancy buttons. Just perfect for a spare key. Also, it includes the instructions of how to program them. Yippee!!! I double check the comments and reviews and it looks legit. How much for 2 keys? $14. Great, if it doesn't work I won't be too disappointed.

Two days later I have the blank keys in my hand along with the programming instructions. It looks easy enough. Now to find a place that can cut them.

I search online for places that specialize in cutting car keys with chips in them. I see everything from $50 per key to $11. On a whim I call up the Ford dealership nearby.

I get to the Parts Department.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I was just calling to get a quote of how much it would cost to get my spare keys cut? I have the blank keys already and I don't need them programmed because I'll program them myself."

"You already have the keys?"

"Yes, and I know how to program them. I just need them cut."

"Well, if you just need them cut we'll probably do it for free. Just bring them in."

"Thank you."

I hang up and do a little dance. I'm a little worried that it's too good to be true but free is awesome and I can't pass up the possibility.

The next day I drive to the dealership and walk into the Parts department. It's quiet and I tell the guy that I'd called yesterday and the person on the phone said that they'd probably cut the key for free since I had the blanks and I didn't need them programmed.

The guy checks with his Manager and is given the okay. I'm super duper grateful since I'm on a tight budget.

As he hands me the keys back he reminds me they're not programmed yet so they won't work. I say, thank you and head home to program the keys.

After programming the keys I do a double check and stick the keys in and start the car and back it up and drive back into my parking spot. Yippee!!!

2 keys. $14 total. Let's see...$256 times 2 is $512. That means I saved myself $498 dollars. And even more important, I'm saving myself an hour of panic looking for a missing key. Not bad for an hour on the internet.

We have to believe we are magic

"How'd he do that?"

Laughter peals from my left, outside my frame of vision.

"Wait! Wait! Do that again!"

I'm in Las Vegas walking through a food court area with a friend who is an excellent magician. He'd been doing a card trick for these guys at the bar but it's the bartender's astonished face and request to repeat the trick that makes me smile.

R.J. has asked me to assist him with his show that he'll be putting on in the evening. We've been going since our rehearsal at 11:30 AM the day before in L.A.. I'm exhausted but enjoying the experience.

Magic has always been, well.....magical for me since childhood. My Dad's friend used to pull quarters out from my mouth or from behind my ear and I'd look on in wonder.

When R.J. asked me to assist him I was a little worried that I'd lose the wonder in finding out how things worked. But it's actually the opposite. I'm actually much more amazed at the skill it takes to do it all well.

I will watch, knowing how a trick is done, eyes peeled out for the moves i know are there and I still see nothing. His hands move so quickly. Really, it's taken years of hard work to manipulate so smoothly.

It's midnight at the Beauty Bar. The music is rockin' and loud. The flashing lights are spinning. There's a crowd of people dancing on the stage next to our setup.

Looking around I realize that this place matches R.J.'s style of magic. The walls are vibrant red and black and the bartender's hair is teased up into a beehive. R.J. is a naturally hip and cool guy without being pretentious. Charisma. And his magic is edgy, fun, and entertaining.

As we stand on the side of the stage I'm running through the show in my head. The first trick is tricky and we had some problems during our first rehearsal. The energy from R.J. is nervous and excited. As we talk/shout I remind R.J.(and myself) that everything will work out in the end and we should just have fun. He calms down a little and soon we're on.

After the show my mind races back through the evening. And I realize that no matter how skeptical we are as humans there is still a part of us that wants to be amazed.

We that the magic isn't real. Yet we experience this confusion because the brain cannot understand that what it sees. There is a contradiction between the brain is being told intellectually and the visual experience. It's in that moment. That astonishment--where the magic really happens. Where I can look at a person's face and smile because I see that we're wired for hope. For amazement. For magic.

And it leaves me feeling encouraged and satisfied in a way I can't really put into words.