January 2, 2010
In with the New
Knowing me it should come as no surprise that I'm part of a family that often makes things up as they go. I have found that on the occasions I attempt to execute a plan things never quite go as I intended, and that attempting to plan anything with my family anywhere in the equation is usually a fruitless effort. Yet somehow I neglected to consider these facts as I pondered New Year's Eve and how I wanted to see off a year I had cared little for.The family would be gathering at my Aunt's house for our traditional Christmas dinner delayed a week so we could all be together. It seemed a fine plan for the earlier part of the evening, but in a loud and celebratory room wasn't where I wanted to spend the later hours. I advised my brother that I was likely to duck out around 11 for a destination unknown, but that I would be sure to return for him.
I had a pretty good idea where I was going though. If I was lucky, there wouldn't be another soul around and I would succeed in 2009 slipping away without my notice. I wanted such a long, painful, challenging year to end with a few moments of peace. Peace, and gratitude I had made it through.
As we congregated on the 31st the news channel in the background shared clips from celebrations around the world. Fireworks exploded over St. Basil's in Moscow as one of the newscasters shared the Russian perspective on this turning of the calendar: how you ring in the new year is how you will spend it.
I'm not the superstitious sort, but the concept provided an important alternative perspective. My focus had been on capping off the past; theirs was squarely on constructing the future. Sitting in calm solitude as the lines blurred remained an appealing exit and carrying that peace - something much needed in my life - into 2010 didn't seem like too terrible of an idea either. But if their theory had any validity whatsoever, did I really want to set myself up to spend the year largely on my own? Granted there were reasons for most of my recent life taking on that quality, but what if one small yielding on my part - one intentional sacrifice of my will - actually could have a longer ranging impact I couldn't see? It presented quite the quandary.
Sometimes, though, our decisions get made for us. Dinner pushed back later and later as we drank and played games and attempted to video Skype with our relatives in New York. We sat down to eat shortly before 11p and I knew there would be no opportunity to vanish. Conversation at the table ironically touched on my dislike of New Year's growing up, and I added that I was no more fond of it at that moment that I had been all my life. My sister looked at me confused and somewhat annoyed at my stupidity, the emotion in her voice clear as she asked "why". I told her it just was.
So when they came and said there were only a few minutes left I made no motion to exit the conversation I was in with my mother. "They don't get it," I said. When they called us into the room with 45 seconds left to go I resisted her tug and told her to go without me. I was pulled along anyway as she reminded me that it's not all the time I get to spend that stroke of midnight with her. At that point I decided that being surrounded by people who love me and in return giving them a few meaningful moments wasn't a bad way to see the year out. It really wasn't a bad way to begin a new one either.
The voices in the room counting down those last 10 seconds drown out those coming from the the television. As the rest of the group joyfully exclaimed "Happy New Year" I tipped my head back and shouted "THANK GOD!" Finally it was over.
The next day I ended up with five extra people in my apartment eating dinner around a coffee table and cheering on my sister's Gators. It was the largest crowd I'd ever had in a place I honestly didn't believe could comfortably accommodate one. After they left all I could do was shake my head. Perhaps the Russians were onto something after all.
Captured At: 945
January 5, 2010
Humility
One of the things just under 30 years of life has shown me is that we are defined more than anything else by what we love. Our passions - both good and bad - shape who we are and permeate the rest of our life. Often this change happens without us recognizing it, but suddenly it seems everything around us points us back to those key things we treasure. I can remember points in my life when everything connected to a DMB lyric, every breeze carried me home, and every song new or old revived thoughts of those I'd lost.Sometimes I wonder if I remember so many gems from The Little Prince because I read the story too much or because the numerous pieces of truth that endeared it to me just stuck. The relevance to so many facets of life continues to astonish me at times. One of my favourite quotes - which isn't surprising given the combination of my impossibly high standards and introspective tendencies - comes from the king: "If you succeed in judging yourself rightly, you are indeed a man of true wisdom." This statement always links to a similar concept from Romans 12:3 that says "Do not think more highly of yourself than you ought..."
As I began reading the list items and scanning the stream of radio buttons on the self-assessment survey I realized I was in over my head. How skilled or experienced was I at each of these things? I honestly didn't know. I had no idea what perspective they were asking from and no basis whatsoever for comparison. And the next 18 months of my life were going to be defined in part by the answers I chose. No pressure.
Part of me felt like it was a bit of a cop-out when I invoked mentor support, but it really seemed the best way to get relevant and honest input. We spent 10 minutes going through the survey with him reading the items to himself and me clicking the buttons under the heading he called out.
A few times he commented that while I had done work relevant to the item at hand I lacked the formal training and associated knowledge they would want me to have. A couple pages in he said he was scaling the magnitude of the work up; I could handle projects in the millions, but not the billions, and that caused everything to shift to the left. He said these things casually but somewhat defensively - almost like a disclaimer. As if in my silence as I waited for his next answer I was somehow hurt by what I was seeing. As if being labeled a novice or only marginally skilled would be received as an insult. As if the heaps of praise he usually poured on me were now in question because of how he was helping me categorize myself to the world.
And the truth is that I was unsure at first what to make of how the screen was filling out. Did I actually agree with it or was I just going along with what he said? But when he threw that bigger picture out there I realized my initial assessment that I lacked enough knowledge to attempt to compare myself to anything was correct.
Even if I were never to get any feedback the exercise was extremely enlightening. I knew I still had things to learn, but I had no concept of exactly how many. And this revelation was only considering one discipline! I may have spent the last year learning rapidly in a position over my head and the last several years apparently working above my pay grade, but I've barely even started to collect the knowledge and experience I'm going to need if I want to leave the present bubble.
I don't think I ever got too high on myself because of what I was doing, but hitting that submit button definitely knocked me down a few pegs. I'd been given a new perspective and was now reoriented to my position in the shallow end of the pool. And I accepted it as we should always find a way to do. When you need to learn, it's often the best place to be.
Captured At:2200
January 10, 2010
Treasures in the Ice
The temperature had dropped noticeably between the time I walked into the church building and when we walked out an hour and a half later. Within two steps out the door every layer of clothing I wore had been mercilessly penetrated by the winter chill. "If we're going to figure out something to do tonight, we're either doing it in somebody's car with the heat on or at my apartment." He laughed, but was kind enough to oblige.Throughout this uncharacteristic cold snap I've been saying Florida feels too much like New York. Not once has it been a complimentary statement. My hands are cracked and dry and rough, my legs bear new self-inflicted gouges every morning when I wake up, no layers of clothing seem enough, and the heat I so desperately crave only exacerbates the reminders my body gives me as to why I was better off in a warmer climate. It's a part of home I'd forgotten. One I didn't miss. Yet even as I struggle through it I find there's something pleasing about how the scent of frigid air can take you back - especially when laced with your grandmother's perfume.
As I exited the BestBuy tonight I found the northeastern temperatures producing a response I did not expect. I wanted to go running. I pictured my sneakers moving faster against the black asphalt, striking it in concordance with my breath. I imagined how the cold would feel leaking through a long-sleeved t-shirt and gripping my exposed legs as they helped propel my body forward. It was a strange desire, but everything in me felt as if it was the activity I was supposed to be engaged in.
The notion of me out running in such temperatures today is laughable, but for a few months in late 1997 and early 1998 it was a reality. The mind, I suppose, is only partially superior. The body can remember also.
I honestly don't know what motivated me to join the track team, especially as a junior in high school. Even now it doesn't make sense to me, but I remember how much it helped the following summer when my last year of tennis practice began and the new coach started it by sending us off to do a big lap around the fields (something the old coach had never once made us do). I remember her telling me during one of those first days that she was impressed with my running. It would be one of the few nice things she said to or about me the entire season.
My running buddy throughout indoor and outdoor track was a girl named Maureen. She was a year below me and acquainted with my sister, which is why I think she began talking to me during the early practices. She knew it was my first time out and was kind enough to let me tag along with her. The team had three main groups by event - the distance/mid-distance runners, the sprinters, and the jumpers/throwers (or field events). She recruited me to join her as part of the last group, which was good because I had no idea what I wanted to do. I suspect I would have given track up entirely after the first week or two if she hadn't been there.
Though not as much a fanatic as I was at the time, Maureen was also into DMB. I remember sharing thoughts about "Live at Red Rocks" when it came out and discussing clips of the new songs we were hearing as we anticipated the album that became "Before These Crowded Streets". She'd tell stories and jokes as we practiced, I'd share band trivia and the latest news my AOL-addicted teenage self had stumbled upon. It made the running feel a little less unbearable and the bus rides to the meets go a bit faster. Looking back on it now, those hours we spent were often the only enjoyable prolonged interactions I had with anybody during the day. Maureen was kind and genuine; somebody I never felt I was annoying too badly and never feared was talking negatively behind my back as others had done. Yet even though she quickly became my best friend on the team, we had no relationship to speak of outside of it.
An undefined knee injury ended my track career the next indoor season. We were running together toward the football fields one afternoon when it happened. Suddenly something just hurt and no amount of icing or stretching or going easy on it seemed to make enough difference. I don't think I ever told her I wouldn't be returning. Back then it would never have occurred to me to do so. I even think I only told the head coach because I felt obligated to return my uniform.
Sometimes I wonder if my knee gave me an excuse quit that I gladly took. Even with Maureen around I never felt like I really belonged on the team, so what difference did it make? Chances are they wouldn't notice. And as far as I know, they never did.
Tonight, though, I wanted to be back out there again. I wanted to be wired to a Discman playing an early version of "Two Step" as I warmed up around the HVCC track. I wanted the dark and the tired muscles and "Seek Up" lulling me to sleep as the bus carried us back to school late on some random weeknight. I wanted the physical endurance and immunity to the cold that let me leave quick footprints in the snow around the high school. I wanted that energy, that feeling of joy, that sense of accomplishment.
It was a grand dream, but one that wasn't going to come true. I wasn't crazy enough to act on it. Not right then, at least...
Captured At:2216
January 24, 2010
And so, since I'm compelled to carry out the uncharacteristic act of writing without thought and publishing without reviewing, the next several paragraphs are likely to wander quite a bit. Right now I'm okay with that idea. Too much thought has never done good things for my mind.
Being in DC last week was challenging on many fronts. I was frustrated and confused, disheartened and irritated. I've come to recognize them as bad responses representative of a few very good things, such my deep level of care and strong desire to serve well and make a difference. By the time it all ended I felt I had made progress and was nearing some conclusions I've been putting off for a while. Three days of chaos ended with a sense of accomplishment I would never have expected.
Then my boss emailed me my customer satisfaction feedback for the latter part of last year. with a drop of 12.5% in my approval rating I was now failing the performance metric she had established for all of us. I was floored. Then I began reading the anonymous comments supplied with the evaluations. Some were right on target with what how I felt the year had ended and some were kinder than I would have been. The rest - at least half - were scathing. They portrayed me as a disrespectful, lying, incompetent, bully who knows nothing of working with other people or what it means to actually perform in a job beyond wearing its title.
These remarks hurt more than I had words for and I began crashing rather quickly. I shut down for almost the entire plane ride home; my poor traveling companion was powerless to help me. But the internals of a person can be rather amazing if allowed to run their course properly. The feedback didn't make sense and I was unwilling to let such blatant unconstructive attacks on my character drag me down. I wanted to be happy in spite of how miserable the situation felt. The week TDY had given me the pieces I needed to build the plan for the year, and I found myself focusing on that. By the time exited MCO tram I was telling him, "Change the things you can, to heck with the things you can't." The resiliency I was displaying truly amazed me. I've become much quicker to bounce back than I used to be.
The situation and what I'm going to say when my boss and I sit down has been on my mind all weekend. It fueled my runs through the park on Friday afternoon and this morning. It fell among my prayers and I did everything possible to truly hand it off to God to take care of. I realized I need to go into the talk seeking understanding, not lashing out with accusations and attacks of my own. It was an important step that made the internal rants much quieter.
Tonight as I took out the trash something in the air felt like magic. I loved the sensation the breeze brought and the places it took me back to. I smiled at the half moon, my head crooked back ackwardly to keep him in my gaze. On the return trip I could think of nothing more appropriate than pulling myself onto Loki's trunk and laying down for a few minutes. Slowly I became lost in the sky and found myself completely at peace.
My world has felt different since that moment. I walked slowly back inside with a clear mind; no concerns, no sense of urgency, no fear. The only strand of thought that appeared went something like this: "And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding - yeah, it really does, doesn't it?" The now was good, tomorrow would be fine, and every other thing eating at me prior to that moment didn't really matter. You get the first thing right, the rest falls into place.
Captured At:2043