This Kind of Quiet

I can't even remember his name.

"Hello, is ?? there?"

In a wary tone, "May I ask what this is regarding?" she asks.

She thinks I'm a telemarketer. I know she does.

"Yes, I met ?? at the youth hostel in Seattle and he said he was about to travel to Ireland for two months but to call him afterwards so we could maybe get together."

Silence.

"Hello?"

"I'm so sorry..." Her tone has totally changed. She really does sound sorry.
"...but ?? was hiking with his friend in Ireland. It was really foggy and they hiked off of a cliff. Both of them died."

"Oh!" I say. And then I pause, thinking that this is his mother and that I actually had more recent contact with her son before he died. It seems so wrong. "Oh. Okay, I'm sorry. Good-bye."

The last thing I hear before I hang up is "I'm really sorry. Good-bye."

I haven't thought about that conversation in years. Over a decade even. But it comes to mind as I plead with God to please keep me safe after I've fallen through the snow up to my hips. I've lost the trail and even though there are markings the snow has covered it and I'm going in circles back over and over trying to find the trail.

I fall through again, up to my hip and almost underneath one of the huge fallen Sequoia trees in the forest. I'm alone and I haven't seen anyone for the past 2 hours.

One way brings me to a cliff and the river. The other way to the huge fallen trunks and snow that I keep falling through. Now to my hip, now to my waist. Brambles on the other side. I go back to the marking. Which way is it pointing? I don't see a trail that way at all.

Another prayer leaves my lips as I follow what I think is the trail to the edge of the cliff. No, I'm not falling off to my death. That conversation will not be happening again.

Finally, after covering the area in a grid pattern for about an hour...I find the trail again. This part of Sequoia is so confusing. I have a map, a compass, and trail markers and I still am losing the trail. The light is slowly fading as well and dark will not help me get out of the forest any easier or faster.

Breathe. Remain calm. No, I don't know what time it is, but looking up past these tall, tall, trees I guess at where the sun is hiding. Maybe 4 or is it 6? I started at 10 this morning.

In another hour, I lose the trail again. My head pivots. Look at the markings, look at the trail. Look at the markings, look at what I think is a clear trail...but it's going in the opposite direction of the markings. Which do I follow? At this point I decide to go with my gut and continue to follow the trail. These markings aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Summer is one thing, but when there's snow on the trail, it's another.

I actually thought the first marker was a warning. Yellow triangle with a tilted tree. "Warning, Falling Trees" or tree branches. I mean they were everywhere. Huge fallen Sequoia trunks. They're so huge they could easily crush a person. It made sense right? But then they started showing up not so tilted. Straight up and down even. After a few more I understood it to be pointing the way to the trail.

There's nothing like taking a long hike in an isolated spot by yourself. It clears your head. Gives you perspective. And every now and again, reminds us of our mortality.

We re-calibrate our worth. Not based on what other people think we're worth, how popular we are, how useful we are to society and the world or how much we are needed. We find our worth from a different place. The center shifts and strips us of all the layers we humans put on things until you've reached the core. To find our worth, as a person doing nothing but hiking in the woods without anyone else nearby.

These huge trees that have lived for generations and generations have cleaned our air and provided shelter for so many now also are the backdrop to the hike that helps to clean my soul.

When I stop there is no sound but the wind rustling the tree branches, the leaves blowing, and the birds twittering. It's been so long since I've heard this kind of quiet. Living in the city, there's always some sort of traffic or neighbor or dumpster diver or helicopter.

As I move slowly back into the presence of people. Tourists just passing in their cars who've taken a short walk. One gentleman has a cell phone earpiece on and is in a 3 piece suit. He's walking back to his shiny luxury car. The kind that looks as if he could limo people around in it but you can tell he's a businessman and not a limo driver.

The quiet from the hike stays within me though. Transforming itself and growing. From experience I know that eventually it will fade. How long depends on life. How long can a person keep this kind of quiet? That's the test. For now, I'm very grateful to be alive, breathing, and going back to the Ranger Station to see if there's a pay shower. Then, as I look forward to the warmth of a clean shower and breathing steam into my lungs, I'm reminded that civilization isn't all bad.

A Little Joy, A Little Minute, A Little Second...

Not a word has been said. I've told one person today and everyone else only knows because they already knew. It's not on my Facebook. No prompting reminders. It helps to see things a little clearer.

So what's the big deal? No big deal. I'm just one among thousands if not millions who grow another year older today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Conflicting feelings of mortality and excitement and dread. But then I realize attitude has everything to do with how quality of life plays out even if my quantity is diminishing. And isn't it diminishing for everyone every second that passes?

"Everyone's dying," my friend says.

Yes. That's true. And how ironic that sometimes it's those that have been diagnosed with a terminal illness that then choose to live. Really live. Is that what it takes?

A friend and I talked for an hour on Thursday about how we juggle so many things. She's a mother of two and has a husband, a part time day job and is working on her career as an actor.

We talked about investing energy and time in your spouse first before the children because the energy you put into your relationship with your partner will help with your relationship with your children. But the time and energy you pour into your children can't help with your relationship with your spouse because they're children and they will take as much time and energy as you can dish out. They're helpless.

The funny thing is that we think we should pour the time and energy we have into our children first - before our spouses precisely because they are helpless and our partners aren't.

We talk about these things. The everyday lives we live while we dream of others we could possibly have.

I thought I'd take a break from my everyday life on my birthday and use it as a gift to serve others. Do some community service.

But schedules collided and it's not happening this year. Instead, I am enjoying it by the minute.

No expectations. Just being present in the now. In the second. Enjoying the feeling of typing on a keyboard now. And now. And now.

Little joys have been making my day special today. And it has helped me to realize that I'm learning to enjoy the day in the little things. Be happy where I am in the little moments. Which, in turn, makes me think about the overall picture of life.

What would happen if I did that with life? Enjoyed the everyday life I live instead of waiting to enjoy the dream that I hope is coming? Is it really possible? Maybe. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on today. For this second yes. Tomorrow? Well,I can't decide for tomorrow if I'm really choosing to enjoy this moment by moment. Because...as Scarlet O'Hara said best "Tomorrow is another day."

My House is Lopsided

"There are like 9 parts of your life. Job, family, spiritual...and a lot of people have one part take over and they drop the other 8. So if you're in a relationship and that falls apart and you have nothing else - you fall apart. If you have the other 8 parts of your life - you're okay," says my friend as we go for a late night walk.

"Oh, it's like that quote with the house and all it's rooms and everyday you're supposed to visit one of the rooms. Hmmm, my house is lopsided," I reply.

So what do you do when your house is lopsided? Physical, emotional, spiritual, mental and I'm sure you can break it down more, right?

Do I tear down the room to rebuild it? Do I patch it? Do I just take down just enough to rebuild it but leave the foundation that's there? Or do I just visit every day and hope to find a window so the rooms are aired out a bit and start filling the rooms so that they're lived in and the house is balanced?

Can I do it all at once? Or just a room at a time?

I don't know. I know what I want to try but I don't know if it's going to work. So then what?

In an acting class the question, "How do you make a mistake a gift?" came up. I began thinking of how it's a handy thing to know in life too. The challenge of trying to see things in a certain light so it becomes an opportunity instead of something that pulls you down. It's a shift isn't it? How do I shift? Is my house lopsided? Or is it just a chance to see the world at an angle?

A friend brought me to a yoga class. I don't do yoga. Injuries. But it's been awhile so I thought I'd try. Iyengar Yoga wasn't so bad.

At one point the instructor put a brick under my back and said this is going to be uncomfortable. It was. Very. And then she said, "The brick is hard and now you need to soften. Soften around it. It's like life isn't it?

If you don't soften when you come across something hard you'll butt up against it and it'll drive you nuts. So when we come across something hard and uncomfortable we need to soften and it won't be so bad. In fact it can be beneficial."

So then I'm thinking - what does it mean to soften? Not physically, not in situations when you're butting heads with someone, but in situations where you're not balanced. How do you soften?

Maybe I'll find the answer after I enjoy my tilted view of the world in behind one of the dusty doors of my lopsided home. Or maybe I'll just gnaw on a piece of chocolate.

Middle Child

I was reading in some magazine or e-news item about birth order and how it affects who you are.

They said first born children become CEO's and are conservative but good at excelling. And the youngest children take more risks. Even if they become CEO's they manage differently and they are more likely to try new ideas and they're more likely to crash and burn but are really good at get up afterwards because they're used to it.

Middle children. Middle children...are a conundrum. They can go either way and nobody can predict middle children like they can the first child and the last child. They're a mystery. The nut scientists and sociologists would like to crack.

Nice to know...since I'm surrounded by 'em. Both siblings and both parents are or were scientists/engineers. **hee hee** But also very odd since there are probably more middle children out there than first and last children. What are we? Invisible? [inside middle child joke ;)] Yes, yes, invisible.

And what of only children? Or children who are of a different generation than their siblings? (My friend Will is the fourth [I think] child of his mother but the first for his father.) Curiouser & Curiouser.

I'm especially curious to see my new upcoming nephew grow up and adjust to the world. How he interacts with his older brother. How he behaves being the youngest. And possibly, how he behaves as an older sibling if another little one comes along. And then, if he does have a younger sibling--how he develops into the mystery of the middle child.

Letting Go

"When do you know that you're in a healthy place?" I ask a friend. "When you don't care if you're in a healthy place any more and you're just living your life."


Have you noticed that it's true for so many things in life? With parents and children; with relationships; with health...


It's Fall and I'm climbing in Red Rock National Park. The next hold is just out of my reach. I reach for it...slip, and miss and scramble to keep hold of the rock with the tips of my toes and my other hand. It's hot, I'm sweating, and all my muscles are tight and straining to finish this climb.


"Buck up, Alice, Buck up," I mumble to myself. (Okay, so maybe I don't mumble it so much as yell it at myself to keep myself for turning hysterical and bumbling mass of fear.)


Look up and not down. And a fellow climber tells me to relax and hang from my bones instead of my muscles, turn my hip in and reach again. I do...and miraculously the hold is within reach--with a few centimeters to spare. I'm amazed.

It reminds me that sometimes struggling to get what you want is more work and less effective than relaxing and relying on the core of who you are or what you've built. Relying on your skeleton and just choosing to change direction--and leaning in sometimes brings a goal within reach with an ease that is surprising.


"It's actually a skill," my friend says, "learning to let go."

Practice makes perfect right? But practicing isn't very fun. As a child my mother had to chase me around the house to get me to go practice. I'm known as the "I don't want to practice!" child.

Ironically, I'm coming to realize that someOne out there has me practicing a lot because this letting go thing is becoming a re-occurring theme.

I just have to remember there's a point to practice, right? A little improvement every time until you have what it is you're practicing down and you can move on to something new.



It's funny isn't it? That sometimes we clutch so strongly at something it slips through our fingers. Only to find that those points where we keep our hands open allow the thing we're clutching for to come for and stay awhile, even if it's not forever--but long enough to enjoy the stay.


With the sun on my back I climb on and tap the top hold.
"Okay! Ready to Lower! Sit back!"

I let go sit back and kick my legs out. "Lower me!" and the wall flies past as I kick away from the wall. My hands free and clear. Letting go.

To Hear Your Voice

Lately issues about what makes quality of life have been popping up. After looking at the people whom I've come across in my travels and in life and seeing the people who are content and who are not -- I've come to the belief that what makes life fulfilling is a genuine connection with each other.



It can last just a moment. Have you ever been traveling and had a talk with a stranger you will never see again and you only spend a short amount of time with them but you walk away feeling good? It's that a part of them acknowledges a part of you when you're open and there's a connect.



The need for a true connection can explain why people who gain fame--especially at an early age--often search for something more. If you're a little older when you gain fame, you've already made genuine friendships and acquaintances who see you for who you are and have accepted you into their life. If you're young, there's been less of a chance for that.



Celebrities or children of a celebrities often don't know if someone is connecting to them truly or if they're being sought after because they have fame or wealth.



And in the midst of searching for something drugs and alcohol can begin as an experiment that causes a numbness that feels good to begin with but then actually infiltrates a person's life and distances them. The numbness causing an inability to truly be present to connect with other people. Ironic, isn't it?



I look at my parents and their friends and am grateful that the Asian community values their elders. Although, with every generation here in the U.S. I can see that value slowly deteriorating.



The gap in everyday American life is growing too with every generation. I just had a conversation today with a young woman in her early 20's that I work with. "Why is text messaging so attractive to people in their early 20's?" All of my younger friends text me instead of calling to leave a voicemail. A small thing, but one that takes me one step away from hearing his or her voice. From connecting to who they are. I can see people moving further and further away from having to deal with each other face to face or voice to voice and thus living in a virtual world.



The young woman laughs as I continue to ask her whey text vs. voice and wonders how it can be such an issue with me.



On the radio a few years ago I heard about a study where people who surfed the net more and e-mailed and chatted with people more felt lonelier and had less of a sense of leading a fulfilling life than those who did not spend as much time on the internet. In fact, the more time spent online, the worse they felt.



I guess you could consider me old. It's not that I don't believe in technology because I do. I also believe there is a place for text messages and a time for distancing yourself from the world. But what I believe in most is those genuine passages of time where you and another person talk and enjoy each other's company. Where you come away feeling energized and spiritually fed having recognized and having been recognized by another human being in a world that's quickly moving away from people and toward computers, phones, videogames and convenience.

Grinches, Grinches, everywhere

A week in Hawaii island hopping and not knowing what I'm seeing because I'm on an foreign language tour gives perspective. Everything goes by so fast. There's no time to really see anything. Just enough to scan the scenery and go. 10 minutes here, 10 minutes there. Go, go, go.


That's how it is for the holidays too. Back in the U.S. at work people are calling in frantic on the mobiles trying to buy presents as they do other things. No time, no time, go, go, going so they don't really enjoy the season in any way. They're grinchy and grouchy and snapping at the people at work here.



Sometimes it's easier to take it out on the people on the phone. Sometimes we're punching bags while the people who they're really mad at (themselves, family, God, etc.) go unspoken to.



But sometimes, it's better not to spend 10 minutes here and 10 minutes there. Sometimes it's actually better to BE PRESENT. Sometimes, that's the best present of all. For family, for friends, and for the poor service people on the phones.



That's all I have to say today. That and Happy Holidays in order of appearance: Happy Eid al-Fitr, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Winter Solstice, Merry Christmas, Happy Boxing Day, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy New Year!