life: in progress

One of the most defining parts of a city is the proximity of shared spaces. There have been times when I've been so grateful for it, like when I start making a batch of cookies before checking to see if I have any eggs, and I can walk to the corner market and get a dozen and be home in five minutes. There have also been times when I've been less grateful, like when I lived next door to a makeshift mariachi band with regular late night jam sessions. But maybe the most poignant moment I've felt this so far in my life has been tonight. Last night, I stood on the balcony of my little two bedroom apartment and looked out past Lake Union up into the sky at the first full moon of 2019 and a total lunar eclipse. It was a miraculously crisp and clear night in Seattle, allowing me to carve out time with friends and companions and watch the whole eclipse, lasting a few hours from start to finish. I marveled at the universe and my small and so insignificantly significant place in ...

One of the great things about being new to an area is there is so much to explore, do, and see! It's fantastic, right? Right. Unless you suffer from decision paralysis. Let me tell you, this is a new phenomenon in my life, and it is no joke. I don't have many weekend commitments right now, so my typical Thursday-Sunday will go something like this: Thursday: Oh yes! It's almost the weekend! What should I do this weekend? Maybe I'll go for a hike. Maybe I'll rent a kayak and get out on the sound. Oooh maybe I could go skiing! Snowshoeing! Ah I've got it, I'll head to the Olympic coast, watch the waves, be moody. OR I could go to Portland. Everyone is going to Portland it's such a hip thing to do. I could get an Airbnb for the night. There's also this music venue I could go to. Really cool. I love live music, and this singer/songwriter's Instagram feed is on point.   Friday: Ok, I've narrowed it down. I'm either going to Portlan...

I'm afraid of living a boring life. More specifically, a life that other people think is boring. I rarely ever get bored with my own life, at least in the short term. I make plans, think of things to do, go on a bike ride, experiment with new recipes, read books, write down my thoughts. Sometimes I want to get out and see new places and sometimes I just want to wear my soft moccasins in a space that feels comfortable and familiar. It's a balance for sure, and I think it's different for everyone, but for me, the days of wanting to feel cozy and comfortable outnumber the days I want to be on the move and experiencing new things. At least that's what I thought up until recently. I've been revisiting this assumption because, this past year, I sincerely felt the need to uproot myself from the things I defined as secure and steady and reliable and to deliberately enter into a season of change, risk, instability, movement, freedom, and growth. I've been trying to art...

[Note: I talk about God in this post. (S)he is a very real and active force in my life and I didn't feel that I could write this post without discussing that. However, I want to acknowledge that it may be alienating and painful for some, especially those who have been hurt by the church or anyone who professes the name of God without professing the love of God.] There’s a book study out there called The Eight Feelings , written by Chip Dodd. In the book, the eight core feelings (from which all other feelings branch out) are hurt, lonely, sad, anger, fear, shame, guilt, and glad. I went through this study with a small group of friends and can assure you that, although naming and discussing feelings felt like marriage counseling 60% of the time, it was actually so helpful in expressing and understanding my own emotions. I don’t think the idea is flawless, primarily because I refuse to accept that all my emotions are variations on these eight, although I have yet to come across on...

Enter sadness.  There are some days when I just feel the heaviness of the world. I feel in my body and soul that things are not how they should be. It seems like violence, need, hunger, and longing overwhelm all of the good. A few weeks ago, after what seemed like day after day of bad news, I sat down to try to process in words what I was feeling. It started off, "I'm not even sure what words I need to write today. I just feel a heaviness about the world. So much political noise with the midterm elections and awful words on Twitter, another mass shooting, huge wildfires in California, senseless tragic deaths, sick kids, the man downstairs shouting." As my stream of consciousness developed, I moved into the questioning phase. How do people become so violent and mean? So lost or abandoned or lonely or hateful that they kill others? (As an aside: This question led me to google which other species kill their own kind, admittedly a somewhat depressing but worthwhile bit o...

  maybe your life will work. most likely it won't at first. but that will give you poetry.  // Yrsa Daley-Ward // I made it about 200 meters out of my parents driveway when my RAV4 stalled and cut out. I was planning to leave an hour later on a 4,000 mile journey from Maryland to Washington state, so you could say that the timing for a breakdown--of either my car or my mental state--was not ideal. I used my calm-but-panicked voice and called my dad for help. We got the car started and back in the driveway, and thankfully, the whole episode turned out to be a weird side effect of my disconnecting the battery the night before while attempting (unsuccessfully) to install a new radio. That's a story for another time but the lesson I learned is don't overreact and also just pay professionals to do the things you don't know how to do. When I finally got on the road a few hours later, it was just in time for DC rush hour combined with a steady summer rain and I could...

it's wednesday my eyes are tired and glazed from the artificial glow of my computer screen  my back aches my head hurts from these longs days in this strange place where I sit in a 6'x6' box with three sides and have a cushion for my wrists  and call it 'success' it's been raining for four days  the good kind of rain that helps you think  and lets you cry  for sometimes, the world is heavy and i feel its weight on my shoulders  for no good reason at all, except perhaps the breaking of my heart for the broken world and forgetting, as i always do, that i cannot carry its weight  another 'mass shooting' feels normal  it's wednesday, after all i'm connected but not affected i'm aware but not a part  today, i am removed, but tomorrow, who knows? coping i drink a glass of water and lay on my bed in the dark until the pain behind my eyes is gone  then i turn on slow jazz for no good ...

  It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.  I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are.  I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love,  for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.  I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is t...

“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.” --Edgar Allan Poe  

"Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid." –Frederick Buechner

Companions as we are in this work with you, we beg you, please don't squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given us.  God reminds us, I heard your call in the nick of time; The day you needed me, I was there to help. Well, now is the right time to listen, the day to be helped.  Don't put it off; don't frustrate God's work by showing up late, throwing a question mark over everything we're doing.  Our work as God's servants gets validated--or not--in the details.  People are watching as we stay at our post,  alertly, unswervingly...in hard times, tough times, bad times; when we're beaten up, jailed, and mobbed; working hard, working late, working without eating; with pure heart, clear head, steady hand; in gentleness, holiness, and honest love; when we're telling the truth, and when God's showing his power; when we're doing our best setting things right, when we're praised, and when we're blamed; slandered, and honored; true...

Everything you do right now ripples outward and affects everyone. Your posture can shine your heart or transmit anxiety. Your breath can radiate love or muddy the room in depression. Your glance can awaken joy. Your words can inspire freedom. Your every act can open hearts and minds. David Deida

It was a Thursday. Nothing extraordinary could be said about the day in itself, until dinnertime rolled around. And actually, dinner itself was the way-above-average meal I had come to expect. But after I downed a dish of pasta, followed by a heaping plate filled with meat and an assortment of cooked vegetables, I was ready for the third and final course: cheese.   The cheese containter in the fridge was always stocked—sometimes with cheeses I had come to love, like gruyère, le tomme, and chèvre, and sometimes completely new types to try.   There were soft cheeses, hard cheeses, mild cheeses, smelly cheeses, and truffle cheeses.   But one was absent: orange cheeses.   That is why it came as such a surprise to me when, on this particular Thursday, I spotted a block of orange cheese in the cheese container.   As soon as it was discovered, the table was in uproar, with everyone talking all at once.   A niece, one of the younger generations who was le...

It's Tour de France season, which in my opinion is one of the more exciting sporting events of the year.  Some of the most talented cyclists in the world all come to France to engage in a competition not just on physical fitness, stamina, and ability, but on mental focus, resilience, endurance, and power.  The course winds through countryside and mountains, small towns and cities.  And nothing like being a world champion to keep all the riders motivated.  It's really a beautiful, crazy, and kind of ridiculous event.  But glory and fame and month-long bike races just aren't for everyone.  So here's a tribute to all the everyday bicycles that may never get to compete in the Tour de France, but nonetheless fulfill their duty to their riders on two wheels with grace, style, and good looks to boot.  Vieille-Ville, Geneva, Switzerland Open air market, Lausanne, Switzerland The Olympic Museum, Lausanne, Switzerland Nyon, Switzer...

As usual, life is moving way too fast for me to experience, process, document, and record on this handy web log in a timely fashion.  So let me take a few minutes to catch up on some things that I haven't had a chance to write about yet (before I jump into my time in Morocco, which is really what is mostly on my mind).  I went to a yoga class.  Casual, right?  Except it was in a family friend's home studio, and ALL IN FRENCH.  Not so casual anymore.  I'm not exactly a yoga guru, but I love it, and I figured I could keep up by following the instructors so I was thrilled to go.  When I arrived, they greeted me with a smile, told me to take off my shoes, and handed me a mat.  The class began, and the very first thing the instructors (a husband and wife couple, by the way) said was close your eyes.  Well, there goes my last resort.  Either I learn French really quickly, or I look like a fool.  Not that that leaves me much of a choic...

The house.  It's pink with green shutters. Facing North-West The Jura mountains.  The Jurassic period in geology was named for the formation of these mountains, and I would argue that they are one of the Jurassic period's more impressive accomplishments.     Facing South  The French Alps on the other side of lake Geneva.  The highest (and brightest) peak in the background is Mont-Blanc.  The vineyards are a nice touch, yes? (unknown leafy greens) apple orchards Is the mud here prettier too, or is it just me?

I don't really think I have an "adventurous soul."  I tagged that on to the name of this blog before I left for Switzerland because I wanted to be trendy and hipstery...who was I kidding.  But I just read it at the top of this blog and I don't think it's true.  In fact, I think I have more of an "I like to stay at home where I'm comfortable and can wear sweat pants" kind of soul.  So I've been thinking of new tag-lines. Journeys and Destinations:          "struggles of the comfortable soul to get out of the house"          "when being in my comfort zone beats being outside of it"          "only for the sake of reaching the destination"          "and a suitcase full of potential problems to worry about" I'm probably exaggerating a little, because I don't hate adventure.  Sometimes I enjoy it....

I went to bed last night smelling the most delicious, sweet aroma...actually it was kind of embarrassing because I was pretty much drooling alone in my room thinking about whatever it was that Vita was baking.  When I asked her she said "des biscuits" and said "Oh oui, c'est bon"  like the majority of our interactions involving food go, but not knowing what "des biscuits" were exactly. This story has such a happy ending.  Fast forward through a full night of sleep and waking up to a rainy, gray morning, my only plans for the day being an advising session and to write a paper on women immigrants, not the most uplifting topic for a rainy day.  Then I sat down for breakfast.  Violins started playing, a chorus of hallelujahs commenced, the sun broke through the clouds, my paper wrote itself, and all the people in Switzerland applauded for the miracle that I was about to experience. I present to you....des biscuits! Then the word I was waiting for...

Is that the name of a movie?  Oh no, it's just my life right now. Every time I step outside, and when I'm inside, for that matter, I just can't even believe where I am and what I'm doing right now.  I feel so incredibly privileged to be able to spend a semester abroad, let alone in Switzerland, let alone with the kindest, most welcoming, and most fun family in Europe, that I sometimes can't even believe it.  But that's how I feel about my host family. They have welcomed me in so kindly to their home and gone way beyond what I would have expected.  They are a couple with three grown sons and three little grandsons, two of whom I've met and the other I met on skype.  They are Sicilian/Italian/Swiss and married/dating Polish so when everyone is over it is a jumble of languages and noise and it always amazes me that somehow we manage to communicate.  Their sons speak English (as well as a few other languages, such is life here), but during the week I can onl...