My life is full of routines. It's a must really. I depend on routine in order to be certain that important things are accomplished. I function best when I have a schedule. It is far to easy to become complacent and lazy when I don't have a clear view of what needs to be done.
But when life becomes routine, even when busy, it is easy to lapse into a different form or complacency. Things become mundane, and beauty is lost. I may not be the girliest of girls, but I do have an appreciation for beauty, and a need to experience it in my life on a regular basis.
Recently, I have become enamored with the blog of a friend of mine that I met in Hong Kong. We weren't particularly close, but we attended the same church and hung out together in groups. But I never really got to know her well. As most people realize, Facebook has made it possible to connect with the people you never really got to know very well, or knew once upon a time, but lost track of. A post here and there pops up, and occasionally leads to a new development in that relationship. This is one of those cases.
I started reading her blog and found myself transported to a world where beauty still exists. She posts beautiful pictures, and writes about lovely things. Something about going there just feels lavish. I needed that. Just a little jolt of something more to remind me that life in this moment is precious, and there is still beauty in this world.
I drive a lot these days. It takes about an hour to get to work one way. On most evenings, as I exit I-5 and head onto 99, I pass a man holding a sign "Laid Off, Now Homeless. I want to work. Anything helps." The patterns of my life, the routines of my existence, have taught me to be high suspicious of such people. I know there are jobs out there to be had. They might not be dream jobs, but they're better than standing on the street. I know there are organizations designed to help people in such situations. Churches, homeless shelters, etc. go out of their way to serve the least of these. I also know that a large number of these people just want to score easy money to support their detrimental habits.
The truth is, I've seen at least three different men working this intersection. One is young and his posture reeks of cockiness. Another is probably in his late fifties, and seems more suited to a motorcycle than anything else. The the third man has always had a look about him that made me wonder...
One of my chief concerns is to avoid enabling people like this to continue down a destructive path. I won't hand out money. But the other day I was parked only a few from him, and I knew I had an orange in my bag. So I rolled down my window and called out to the man, "Would you like an orange?"
His response was immediate, and his gratitude clearly evident. "I would love an orange," he said with utmost sincerity. He walked over to the car and I handed it to him with a smile. The truth is, we aren't flush with money right now in the slightest. I could have used that orange. But the beauty I experienced in that small gesture was truly explosive. He returned to his post and slipped the small orange into his nap sack. I rolled up my window. The light turned green, and as I began to roll forward he made eye contact and mouthed a silent "Thank You."
My eyes flooded with tears as I moved on. I don't know how he ended up on that corner. I don't know what he really needs to get himself into a better place. But he took an orange from my hand, and passed beauty back to me.
There is not enough beauty in the world, but if you open your eyes, it does still exist, even on the worst of days.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Those Goals I Had
When I was a senior in high school my social studies teacher had us do the coolest thing. We wrote letters to ourselves five years in the future. I have no idea how seriously other people took this project, but being the weirdo I have always been, I didn't just write a note, I wrote pages and pages and pages to my future self. I had thoughts about who I would, or more importantly "should" be, and I minced no words. It bordered between being thoughtful and belligerent.
Five years later, as promised, the letter arrived. I was surprised by how judgmental I had been, disappointed by some of the goals I had not achieved, and amused at 18's naievety. There was so much I could not have known, no matter how well acquainted I believed myself to be with me.
At this point in time the writing and receiving of that letter are both distant history. In fact, last week I passed the 20th anniversary of the "epic" crash when my thirteen year old summer plans were dashed by a broken back. Life goes so quickly, and changes happen before I can even catch my breath and accept the fact that I'm not even in my twenties anymore.
Which all leads me to this post about the uncertainties of life, and the best laid plans. In January, when I was spending my days being caught up on journal writing, facebook updates, and spending hours a day writing my challenge book (which I still haven't nailed down a publishing plan for, grrr) it seemed that making a goal of reaching 100 posts this year conceivable. After all, I had never even heard of Holliday Gift Shoppe. Sure, I knew we were moving and would have to settle in and find jobs and all that sort of stuff, but I had NO clue of where life was about to take me. So now I find myself almost through June, with fewer than 30 posts, and it's clear that my bombardment of the Internet is not going so well. On the other hand, I'm a business owner now. Sounds pretty grown up, doesn't it?
I guess the question now is, what would 18 year old me think of the life I've ended up with? And what absurdities would I write to the me of the future, only to have that same future me shake her head at just how off my ideas were...
Five years later, as promised, the letter arrived. I was surprised by how judgmental I had been, disappointed by some of the goals I had not achieved, and amused at 18's naievety. There was so much I could not have known, no matter how well acquainted I believed myself to be with me.
At this point in time the writing and receiving of that letter are both distant history. In fact, last week I passed the 20th anniversary of the "epic" crash when my thirteen year old summer plans were dashed by a broken back. Life goes so quickly, and changes happen before I can even catch my breath and accept the fact that I'm not even in my twenties anymore.
Which all leads me to this post about the uncertainties of life, and the best laid plans. In January, when I was spending my days being caught up on journal writing, facebook updates, and spending hours a day writing my challenge book (which I still haven't nailed down a publishing plan for, grrr) it seemed that making a goal of reaching 100 posts this year conceivable. After all, I had never even heard of Holliday Gift Shoppe. Sure, I knew we were moving and would have to settle in and find jobs and all that sort of stuff, but I had NO clue of where life was about to take me. So now I find myself almost through June, with fewer than 30 posts, and it's clear that my bombardment of the Internet is not going so well. On the other hand, I'm a business owner now. Sounds pretty grown up, doesn't it?
I guess the question now is, what would 18 year old me think of the life I've ended up with? And what absurdities would I write to the me of the future, only to have that same future me shake her head at just how off my ideas were...
Monday, June 4, 2012
Living the Life Self-Employed
I think there is something misleading about being Self-Employed. It makes it sound as though a person is somehow in control of their destiny. It implies a certain amount of freedom and self-possession. What it really means is that suddenly EVERYTHING is upon you. The "really" fun part is having no clue what "everything" entails.
Maybe it has something to do with laziness, but I've always rather enjoyed letting someone else worry about the details. Just tell me what to do, and chances are, I can manage to do it. But leave it up to me to figure everything out, and it's almost guaranteed to be a mistake.
Sure, I can manage to travel around the world on my own. I can manage my own money, and make sure the most important details are taken care of, but this is a little beyond that. I'm not trying to complain. I'm just trying to figure out what all the hoopla is about being a self-employed business owner. Rather than feeling like I have discovered financial freedom, I've managed to reinstate a frenzied level of stress and worry that has my back tied in ridiculous knots. Sadly, I'm a long way from a Chinese or Balinese spa treatment. (sigh)
On a positive note, good things are happening all around me. Over Memorial Day weekend I was blessed to go to my friend Savana's wedding down in Seiad Valley, CA. It was amazing to be able to drive my husband down the Klamath River and introduce him to the world and some of the people from my childhood.
Then, on June first, my sister Julie had her third child. It'll be a couple months before I have the chance to give little Myrtle Lark Hopper a proper cuddling, but it's a blessing to know there's a fresh baby out there just waiting to meet her Auntie Sarah.
On Friday, my nephew Tyler rocked it on the baseball field. Not only did he score a run, he also caught three hits to right field, sending the batters straight out and helping his team take home the Oregon State Championship at the 3A level! It was so fun to be there to cheer him on, just like we cheered his little brother Jack on when his 9 and 10s little league team won state last summer.
I keep telling myself I'll post at home one of these days so I can add photos, but it keeps not happening. (sigh) At least I managed to get another round of editing done on my challenge book. Now I have to will myself to figure out how to get it out in the hands of hopefully eager readers to help boost that self-employed summer income...
Maybe it has something to do with laziness, but I've always rather enjoyed letting someone else worry about the details. Just tell me what to do, and chances are, I can manage to do it. But leave it up to me to figure everything out, and it's almost guaranteed to be a mistake.
Sure, I can manage to travel around the world on my own. I can manage my own money, and make sure the most important details are taken care of, but this is a little beyond that. I'm not trying to complain. I'm just trying to figure out what all the hoopla is about being a self-employed business owner. Rather than feeling like I have discovered financial freedom, I've managed to reinstate a frenzied level of stress and worry that has my back tied in ridiculous knots. Sadly, I'm a long way from a Chinese or Balinese spa treatment. (sigh)
On a positive note, good things are happening all around me. Over Memorial Day weekend I was blessed to go to my friend Savana's wedding down in Seiad Valley, CA. It was amazing to be able to drive my husband down the Klamath River and introduce him to the world and some of the people from my childhood.
Then, on June first, my sister Julie had her third child. It'll be a couple months before I have the chance to give little Myrtle Lark Hopper a proper cuddling, but it's a blessing to know there's a fresh baby out there just waiting to meet her Auntie Sarah.
On Friday, my nephew Tyler rocked it on the baseball field. Not only did he score a run, he also caught three hits to right field, sending the batters straight out and helping his team take home the Oregon State Championship at the 3A level! It was so fun to be there to cheer him on, just like we cheered his little brother Jack on when his 9 and 10s little league team won state last summer.
I keep telling myself I'll post at home one of these days so I can add photos, but it keeps not happening. (sigh) At least I managed to get another round of editing done on my challenge book. Now I have to will myself to figure out how to get it out in the hands of hopefully eager readers to help boost that self-employed summer income...
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Oh The People You'll Meet
Life is such a random trip sometimes. You never know when someone will walk into your life carrying poetry in their hearts. Or when an appreciative eye will recognize a work of art correctly positioned. It's a slow day in the shoppe, but it has lent itself well to interesting conversations.
A woman came in, noticed the poet stamps, and quoted William Carlos Williams. It's amazing how much really does depend on a red wheelbarrow... It led to a discussion of the usefulness of English degrees, as well as how they suck a bit of joy out of vapid reading... And it brought a spark of joy to my soul. Somehow it served to remind me that the lives we live matter, even on days when we seem insignificant. Her day had fallen behind schedule, but she spent a good twenty minutes just chatting with me about the joys of literature and learning. I felt somehow elevated.
Sometimes it seems that every day I'm reminded more and more how little I know, and what a dramatically huge step I've taken into uncertainty by buying a business. I don't know squat about running a business. Filing taxes is a deep dark dread that makes me quiver. A calendar of the Czech Republic on the wall at home, and a week spent watching an episode of Prostreno every night on the computer, reminds me of other lives lived, and how very distant that relatively care free life is now removed from my future.
Poetry, however, has not been forgotten. And the bits of art that are cropping up on the walls reminds me that there is beauty all around, just waiting to be expanded upon. Even in the face of gargantuan uncertainty there hope quietly sprouts in my heart, like the radishes and peas, cilantro and mint in our tiny clay soil garden.
A woman came in, noticed the poet stamps, and quoted William Carlos Williams. It's amazing how much really does depend on a red wheelbarrow... It led to a discussion of the usefulness of English degrees, as well as how they suck a bit of joy out of vapid reading... And it brought a spark of joy to my soul. Somehow it served to remind me that the lives we live matter, even on days when we seem insignificant. Her day had fallen behind schedule, but she spent a good twenty minutes just chatting with me about the joys of literature and learning. I felt somehow elevated.
Sometimes it seems that every day I'm reminded more and more how little I know, and what a dramatically huge step I've taken into uncertainty by buying a business. I don't know squat about running a business. Filing taxes is a deep dark dread that makes me quiver. A calendar of the Czech Republic on the wall at home, and a week spent watching an episode of Prostreno every night on the computer, reminds me of other lives lived, and how very distant that relatively care free life is now removed from my future.
Poetry, however, has not been forgotten. And the bits of art that are cropping up on the walls reminds me that there is beauty all around, just waiting to be expanded upon. Even in the face of gargantuan uncertainty there hope quietly sprouts in my heart, like the radishes and peas, cilantro and mint in our tiny clay soil garden.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Poetry in the Post Office
I don't have a lot of time to write these days. Quite frankly, I don't have a whole lot of time for anything. The past three weeks I've been working 6 days a week. With the hour long commute in each direction that means I get home in the evening ready to do nothing in particular. With the introduction of TV and internet back into our house as of Friday, that means I'm one again thankful to erase any thoughts in design heaven, or smother them with images of fanciful food. Perhaps the fact that my house looks more like we're about to move out than in, and the kitchen has yet to be cooked in (except when my parents visited and did the cooking for us a bit ago) makes this guilty pleasure even more pathetic, but also necessary.
So I can't say that I feel like much of a writer at the moment. My novel is still in the hands of reviewers, and I haven't even had the energy to check in with any of them. I'm still getting regular e-mails from self pub outfits, and I'm just stockpiling them in my inbox along with all the ads for high priced gadgets, fabulous home decor (which would no doubt clash with the brown flowered couches that are older than me but still look essentially new), sweet scented soaps, and photo developing services. I keep saying that once I get into a flow I'll have time to start up Czech lessons, get more writing done, start journaling again, and connect with human beings outside of my work environment. But figuring out when normalcy is going to hit, or when I'm going to resign myself to the fact that work and TV are about all I have time for anymore if I want to maintain my sanity, I don't know. Every now and again I ponder those new year's revolutionary ideas, and then I start thinking about finances again and everything else disappears. I certainly did not see this future as we stood in the snow in Marianske Lazne watching Karel's fireworks sparkle dazzlingly in the sky.
In the end, all I can really say is, we have twentieth century poet stamps for sale in the post office, and that makes my little English major heart swell with joy. Sylvia Plath on a stamp. Is there any other word for that than "magical?" I think not.
So I can't say that I feel like much of a writer at the moment. My novel is still in the hands of reviewers, and I haven't even had the energy to check in with any of them. I'm still getting regular e-mails from self pub outfits, and I'm just stockpiling them in my inbox along with all the ads for high priced gadgets, fabulous home decor (which would no doubt clash with the brown flowered couches that are older than me but still look essentially new), sweet scented soaps, and photo developing services. I keep saying that once I get into a flow I'll have time to start up Czech lessons, get more writing done, start journaling again, and connect with human beings outside of my work environment. But figuring out when normalcy is going to hit, or when I'm going to resign myself to the fact that work and TV are about all I have time for anymore if I want to maintain my sanity, I don't know. Every now and again I ponder those new year's revolutionary ideas, and then I start thinking about finances again and everything else disappears. I certainly did not see this future as we stood in the snow in Marianske Lazne watching Karel's fireworks sparkle dazzlingly in the sky.
In the end, all I can really say is, we have twentieth century poet stamps for sale in the post office, and that makes my little English major heart swell with joy. Sylvia Plath on a stamp. Is there any other word for that than "magical?" I think not.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Who Saw This Coming?
I'm still at work, and therefore not on a machine I can upload pictures to, so this will sadly be another blank piece. We have ordered internet for home, and should rejoin the connected world on Friday. Hopefully, when we get the internet revamped here at work, I'll be able to use my iPad here during those summer down months everyone keeps telling us we're going to have...
Anyhow, as odd as it all appears, owning a card shop and post office was meant to be. When I was 9 I started my card selling career in order to raise money for Christmas gifts. Every Autumn my Dad and I would brave the blustery drives along the Klamath and Scott River roads, sending the little fog ghosties scurrying away as we offered the local residents the ability to shop from home. Dad saw it as a great opportunity to visit with people he wouldn't necessarily have an excuse to see, while I spent the evenings wishing he wasn't quite so chatty so I could make more sales.
This tradition continued all the way through High School, and went hand in hand with my insatiable letter writing phase. I began my pen pal lettter writing career around the same time, with friends from camp and school exchanges, as well as college aged siblings. After moving from Horse Creek, CA to Blodgett, OR, my letter writing skyrocketed as I would send in excess of ten letters a week back to my friends on the river. Postage was a wee bit cheaper back then, and the internet had scarcely been invented, so my parents thought it was a pretty good deal.
Due to my writing and mailing fixations, when I took a business class in high school (the only way I could learn more about computers and keep my typing skills functioning) we did a city simulation in which I ran the post office. Eerie, isn't it?
Perhaps the funniest part of all is that I didn't even think about any of these things when Mark first brought up the advertisement for a card/gift shop, and post office business for sale. It wasn't until we had made it through the harrowing negotiating process, and managed to land the lease, the business and the postal contract that I realized just how much I had been training for this opportunity. God really does work in mysterious ways :)
I still can't say I've become business minded, or that the prospect of figuring out how to do taxes next fills me with glee, but the actual job is far more interesting than I ever thought it would be. We're working in a great neighborhood in Southwest Portland, meeting lots of lovely people, and falling in love with cards all over again.
I haven't forgotten about my writing. When I think about the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year I cringe a bit in the face of all the new responsibilities I have taken on, but the desire to still have a personal life remains. Guess I'll just have to wait and see how it all plays out, but at least I'm writing again, bit by bit...
Anyhow, as odd as it all appears, owning a card shop and post office was meant to be. When I was 9 I started my card selling career in order to raise money for Christmas gifts. Every Autumn my Dad and I would brave the blustery drives along the Klamath and Scott River roads, sending the little fog ghosties scurrying away as we offered the local residents the ability to shop from home. Dad saw it as a great opportunity to visit with people he wouldn't necessarily have an excuse to see, while I spent the evenings wishing he wasn't quite so chatty so I could make more sales.
This tradition continued all the way through High School, and went hand in hand with my insatiable letter writing phase. I began my pen pal lettter writing career around the same time, with friends from camp and school exchanges, as well as college aged siblings. After moving from Horse Creek, CA to Blodgett, OR, my letter writing skyrocketed as I would send in excess of ten letters a week back to my friends on the river. Postage was a wee bit cheaper back then, and the internet had scarcely been invented, so my parents thought it was a pretty good deal.
Due to my writing and mailing fixations, when I took a business class in high school (the only way I could learn more about computers and keep my typing skills functioning) we did a city simulation in which I ran the post office. Eerie, isn't it?
Perhaps the funniest part of all is that I didn't even think about any of these things when Mark first brought up the advertisement for a card/gift shop, and post office business for sale. It wasn't until we had made it through the harrowing negotiating process, and managed to land the lease, the business and the postal contract that I realized just how much I had been training for this opportunity. God really does work in mysterious ways :)
I still can't say I've become business minded, or that the prospect of figuring out how to do taxes next fills me with glee, but the actual job is far more interesting than I ever thought it would be. We're working in a great neighborhood in Southwest Portland, meeting lots of lovely people, and falling in love with cards all over again.
I haven't forgotten about my writing. When I think about the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year I cringe a bit in the face of all the new responsibilities I have taken on, but the desire to still have a personal life remains. Guess I'll just have to wait and see how it all plays out, but at least I'm writing again, bit by bit...
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
March Madness and April Angst...
Fallen off the face of the earth? Well, not exactly. More like, fallen into business. Of all the most random things. It's really quite a story. And one of these days I'll have a few minutes to spare and an internet connection in my own home, and I'll fill in those missing details. For now, I'll keep it brief in order to keep up appearances.
We got back to the US and jumped straight into the frightening world of negotiating to buy a store. About the craziest thing you've ever heard? I could say the same. Perhaps I should always have known it was meant to be. I sit here in the Holliday Card Shoppe, a business owner, selling cards like I started doing when I was nine in order to buy my family Christmas presents. Now I'm doing it full time in order to, well, live.
So the writing has fallen behind. After fifteen years of writing EVERY day in my journal, I haven't opened my most recent one in more than a month and a half. I've a feeling I won't be able to fill in every moment of every day that I've missed over the past couple months, but I'll try to slowly recreate the turmoil and the terrifying thrills that have led us to this moment.
Forgive the hiatus, but there should be something of note coming in the future.
Thanks for peeking back in, and I do hope to be back to my old ways again shortly.
We got back to the US and jumped straight into the frightening world of negotiating to buy a store. About the craziest thing you've ever heard? I could say the same. Perhaps I should always have known it was meant to be. I sit here in the Holliday Card Shoppe, a business owner, selling cards like I started doing when I was nine in order to buy my family Christmas presents. Now I'm doing it full time in order to, well, live.
So the writing has fallen behind. After fifteen years of writing EVERY day in my journal, I haven't opened my most recent one in more than a month and a half. I've a feeling I won't be able to fill in every moment of every day that I've missed over the past couple months, but I'll try to slowly recreate the turmoil and the terrifying thrills that have led us to this moment.
Forgive the hiatus, but there should be something of note coming in the future.
Thanks for peeking back in, and I do hope to be back to my old ways again shortly.
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