Summer always seems to bring moments of change into my life. You know those moments in the first days of summer? You start to regret when having to walk far distances, and parking lots of black tar quickly become comparable to the Sahara Desert. Those moments when air starts to press so hard on you that you have to gasp in order to fill up your lungs with oxygen? In a similar way, it seems that I find a need to fill up my life with new things in these first moments of summer. My soul begins to gasp for a fresh start. Fitzgerald, in his famous novel on the human fascination with the glittering and unfamiliar, brilliantly describes this strange need for change that grows in my heart.
“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Life has started new in so many different ways during the summer. Typically, summer brings back fond memories of melting ice cream, catching fireflies in my backyard, and baseball games. But my memories always look back to include major moments of change. When I started to prepare for life transitions, they always occurred during the summer. As a child, I went through the major life step of piercing my ears during the summer, as not to interfere with playing sports during the school year. Before entering high school, I remember spending time at my hometown’s basketball courts, talking about the next four years ahead of me with older friends. I made the hot trip to Manhattan, Kansas in the middle of August heat – my poor father sweating up 8 flights of stairs as he moved my mini fridge, (many) clothes, and books into a college residence hall. I traveled to Scotland alone. I started a new job after my college graduation. For me, summer has always brought on change, more so than any new year date on a calendar ever has.
With the months of June and July slowly passing me by, lingering like a Summer Solstice sun high in the sky, I’ve realized this summer will bring on more change than perhaps ever in my life. I’m quickly approaching the new opportunity for a career change. I’ve thought about a major location change. I have a boyfriend (and that is such a fun word to say after 3 years. So fun, in fact, that I’m working on another post just to speak to the adjustment of sharing a life with someone after spending so much time guarding my heart.) I just returned home from a big transatlantic trip with my baby sister. I also am feeling my own soul start to change in a way that is new to me, as I look to Christ to guide me through these times and let go of control.
I’ve always looked to keep things very personal on this blog, focused on making a deep connection rather than sharing a lifestyle, and I hope to continue doing that in the future. The past few months, I’ve found myself searching for silence all around me. I couldn’t seem to stop the chatter from my mouth or my brain or my heart. It’d be easy to tell you that I’d been able to breathe deeply, finding strength in God and my family and friends, but anxiety followed me like a shadow. Even the last couple of weeks, my feet wandering up and down the cobblestones of the British Isles, my heart felt a little restless. I hadn’t taken the time to just sit and let it be. My next few weeks will bring a little necessary stillness in my life. I’m looking forward to taking time to decompress – breathe out – and prepare myself for changes ahead. My summer convictions moving forward are to take time to really still myself to listen to God’s plans for me, understand and think about my life recently, and look forward to the future. I can’t wait to share more of my travels, musings, and what’s ahead on my horizon with you.
Salutations! Remember that one time I went over six months without writing? Ouch. Me too, and trust me, I’m cringing just thinking about the time that flew away from me. I wish I could approach this situation with a plethora of excuses for my behavior. But, to be completely honest, it was simply my own writer’s block and the everyday grind that kept me away. A lot can happen in six months, but in the passing time, I’ve focused on my work and my travel the most. I’ve also had some beneficial time to develop my leadership and focus on building relationships. Yet, when I think about my original intentions with this blog, my writing was focused on Martha Graham’s words – “a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” My goal is to return to this statement, and keep myself going in times of transformation. I’m quickly approaching a season of change, like every new professional. While I may not know exactly what my future holds, I’ve chosen to focus in on a few important things.
Courage, Peace, and Grace
When I think of my plans and desires for my life, this motto is like the compass guiding my heart. There may be many choices ahead, but I have the ability to control my future actions and the way I react to change. Those three little things – courage, peace, and grace—will help me in any trial. This, with a focus on “a blessed unrest” would be my idea of a perfect balance. And, I may sway and stumble like a newbie trying out yoga for the first time. Call it my attempt at a Tree Pose without stretching for a whole six months. So be it. Here I am. This girl is breathing deeply, her face towards the sun.
Even typing these words, it feels good to be back. I’m hoping to share a few of my adventures during my hiatus soon. In the meantime, have a happy three-day weekend friends. May you all find your “balance”!
Summer—a time of sunshine, longer days, pools, and popsicles—brings on a bit of a love/hate relationship for me. On my love list is grilling with friends, fresher fruits and veggies, patios, the return of our farmer’s market, reading on the lawn, and evening walks. With a list like that, it’s hard to think of the “hate”. But sunshine causes sunburns, longer days cause less sleep, and warm weather causes the endless search for comfy shoes.
This year, after lots of summer loving and hating, I finally have a list of 6 essentials that make the transition to warmer weather that much easier.
Starting with the sun hat, let’s take a moment to guard those pretty little locks from one of the best bleaches known to mankind. While I love natural highlights as much as the next girl, nothing hurts worse than a red scalp, and nothing looks worse than the red starting to flake away later. Floppy, straw hats immediately bring to mind sweet memories of my grandma hard at work in her garden. They also provide great coverage at the pool for me! This number is from last season at Gap, but I am loving the variety of sun hats Nordstrom has up on their website! (You can browse here: http://shop.nordstrom.com/c/womens-sun-hats?origin=leftnav)
Warm weather brings lots of cute shoe options, but more struggles in that department for me. I love a great sandal, but straps and flat options don’t always love my feet. After some discomfort in my arches, I’ve discovered shoes with a little wedge and soft leather are my best bet! I love a great wedge that is flexible, like these pictured from Marshall’s. A very similar pair can be found from Land’s End (http://www.landsend.com/pp/StylePage-440724_AL.html?CM_MERCH=REC-_-FPPP-_-GGT-_-3-_-440724-_-437947) now on sale now for $33!
Please allow me to step on my soap-box for this next product. I cannot stress the importance of skin care enough, especially during the summer. For me, sunscreen has become an essential part of my daily routine. With a family history of skin cancer, I am so cautious about protecting myself from the sun. However, finding the right product for your face is always challenging. Neutrogena has made things extremely convenient for consumers by providing a huge variety (including my favorite, Clear Face at SPF 55). No more sunburns and oily skin for this girl! A few pro-tips about sunscreen—most dermatologists recommend at least an SPF 30 for patients, and always be sure to reapply if you expose yourself to sunlight throughout the day.
During the summer, I love keeping my face fresh but hate the fuss of a ton of makeup. This C.O. Bigelow Rose Salve sold at Bath & Body Works (http://www.bathandbodyworks.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2726822) is great for relaxing, low maintenance days. The pink tint looks great, while the product keeps my lips super soft! Throw this on with some water-proof mascara and you’re set for a Saturday of running errands.
With summer comes our exciting training program at work, and my “To-Do” list becomes a mile long. I never thought I’d become someone who relishes checking something off a list, but there’s a huge feeling of accomplishment that comes from it! Being an individual who loves “organized chaos”, I tend to lose small sticky notes very easily. This yellow notebook was a gift from a friend, and it sure does come in handy as I keep running notes on work and other agenda items! You can find adorable stationary, like this one, from one of my favorite companies, Rifle Paper Co. (https://riflepaperco.com/).
The long days of summer bring long nights for me, too. I’m enjoying time with friends and finding more time to take walks in the evening. It also means I still need an extra kick to keep going in the morning. As most of you know, I am a huge coffee addict. Black, latte, or frapped—I drink it all. My most recent grocery store discovery has me addicted to Starbuck’s Iced Coffee. Why is this so great? I love iced coffee at home, but hate the watered-down taste ice leaves behind. I simply chill this, and it tastes so much smoother! My favorite thing to do is add some skim milk and caramel drizzle for a sweeter flavor.
With these items, I’m hoping to stay grateful for this season and move more items to my “love” list. As Ben Rector says, “Thank God for the Summertime”.
“I come from a lonely place, adjacent to a lesser traveled highway, where most folks would call the middle of nowhere. A weary, exhausted sign sits at the entrance announcing an important presence to the world—that of the town itself. The wood of the sign is so beaten and raw that the once bright coat of yellow paint has faded to an embarrassing shade of nonexistence. The wind has faded bold letters into the slats of the sign, and population numbers which have since dropped are no longer visible. There seems to be no pride in the sign any longer for none have bothered to replace it during my lifetime. Yet, it is the slogan “A school to crow about. A town to crow about” that has made the sign increasingly popular as target practice for rebellious teens, making late night rendezvous with egg cartons.”
I wrote this passage nearly a year ago, allowing the words about a special place in my heart to flow through me. In them, I found a way to return to the place that built me into the person I have become. Further more, through these words, I was able to harness my passion for writing in a way that was more real for me than it had ever been. I could talk about it—this place—my home.
My family would tell you that I have a very hard time with change. I enjoy certain characteristics about never doing anything the same way, but let’s be real. I hate change, especially when it occurs in a personal part of my life. When I was a child, I can remember bursting into tears when my parents were announcing they were selling our beloved, ancient mini-van. At the age of 12, my father and grandfather made the decision to stop working with cattle on our farm. And for some bizarre reason, these decisions (which realistically had very little negative impact on my life) crushed me. So, last summer when my parents announced they were building a new home in a different town, a huge (very stubborn) part of me had a hard time accepting their decision.
Inside my quiet town where people choose to live and die within the same zip code, there is the house that built me. This house stands at the edge of town, and has been through a few changes in the past ten years—new paint, larger porches, and flowerbeds that have been fully redone. If you were driving though this town with no stoplights, you could often catch us outside on the porch swing curled up with a thick book or enjoying dinner together when the weather was nice. Behind the house is an acre large backyard where we would play softball during the summer. (My sisters will tell you that I “attempted” to play softball.) My dad hung a swing from a tree branch close to the house that will sway lazily in the breeze. Our yellow lab, Molly, would bark needily from the pen when she could spot us. I had my first real kiss on the picnic bench that sits in front of the house. And before I could even fully read, I wrote my alphabet on the side of the house in ink and the letters stayed there for fifteen years, the backwards “E” engraved on the foundations that couldn’t be weathered by time.
If you walk up the front steps, you’ll see the door that I slammed so many mornings before walking across the street to school. I can still hear my mom shouting after me, “Don’t slam the door!” The force shakes the whole front of the house when you swing it that hard. The main floor is characterized by a beloved dining room table where I have held hands for grace, a piano where I have sang with my grandmother, and my parent’s bedroom where I had hard conversations about growing up. On the level above, my sisters and I shared a bedroom for the first half of my life. Maddy and I slept under the same quilt and in the same bed for a few years. Stars that glowed in the dark winked back at us from their spots on the ceiling as we smuggled books upstairs and squinted at them in the dark, trying to read just one more chapter without getting caught. Eventually, I moved into the little bedroom at the front of the upstairs. A place where I would read and write, laugh and cry. My shelter when high school became a tornado of uncertainty.
And then I left. As most children do. But I wasn’t going to come back, not for good, like some do in my hometown. A vision had grown in my mind that it was time to leave, and I was ready for my feet to take me to new places, new sights, and new people. But I missed the place where the stars shined at night brighter than any place I’ve ever seen. I missed the beautiful, comforting sight of a nearby town’s lights shining from forty miles away. And I certainly missed the people that would raise their hands up in greeting when you drive by, even if they didn’t recognize your car.
There is a place in my house where you can see the etching of time, marked out clearly and sharply by my parent’s hands. Starting from the bottom of a baseboard in our laundry room, you will see tiny, intricate marks of pencil. They tick up slowly with initials and dates marked up. At a point, the initials MM pass TM. KM surpasses all, but will never hit above 6 foot. CM wants to go beyond TM, but I don’t think she ever will. A few extra initials line the board that might have left lives, but are able to remain part of the house, too. The house built the girls. The house built me. You can see it there in my laundry room. And even though I’m grown up and the marks might have stopped, it created the foundation for who I am today.
I am beyond thankful for the house and the town that built me into the woman I am today. Without the experiences I had, my entire life would be incredibly different. I learned patience when working with others in my hometown. I learned to be compassionate to those who may not have enough. I learned to listen to those around me and fight for what I thought was right. Although it’s hard to think about returning home to a different place, I know that those marks will be part of my home forever and engraved in my soul.
You knew this was coming, so there’s no need for a salutation to begin. The past week I’ve watched you flit around the house, your lanky arms swinging, ponytail pulling hair tight to your forehead, and laugh peeling through the air when your corgi nips at you on the floor. Your laugh makes me smile. I remember the very first day I saw you, filled with nervous excitement and my bare feet hot on the wood of the front porch in June. A baby’s scream filled the air as they took you from the car because you hated the road. Even then, being cooped up inside tormented you. We celebrated your first year of life that day, nearly a week late. Chocolate cake stained your face, and you crawled so quickly away from the girls and me. But you weren’t shy. You belonged to us.
We used to call you Scout, from Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. I wish it would have caught on. Maybe it was your freckles, love for the outdoors, and insatiable curiosity. But I think it was your fearlessness, the way you approached anything without hesitation. You would pry living animals, mice or baby bunnies, from the jaws of our dogs and cats, like a young heroine, to rescue them. You ran faster than most boys, and would be so angry when they beat you in races. You, in the summer, set your young eyes on the diving board and went to it like it was calling your name. Confidence still radiates from you, and for that, I am thankful.
If there is one thing that Scout can leave in your soul, I hope it is compassion. Atticus once told the young girl, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” In the years to come, I hope you develop a love for all living things and I hope you have the fearlessness to save those who need it the most. At this point in your life, it is so easy to want to be with those who make you look good and fit into the crowd. But I have been that girl on the edge of the room and I’ve seen plenty of friends suffer after not being included. I know it’s hard, but I hope that you can see through their eyes and extend friendship during these years.
There are those who say the number thirteen is lucky. Thirteen, in my opinion, is one of the toughest years. It builds you up in a wave only to throw you back under the water. Sometimes you feel like you’re isolated, alone and drowning, nothing is clear. Yet, always you will float to the top to see peaceful, calm waters before you. I’ve watched you grow, and all the while I experienced some things in my life that I hope you will not have to. And maybe that’s why I’m worried about you, nervous for what lies ahead. In the thirteenth year, your emotions provide the violent storms. But boys, they provide the hurricanes. A heat and energy can overwhelm you, causing infinite chaos. Yet you do it all for the short-lived eye of the storm, the calm and serenity of a short burst of happiness. And then it’s over, and a back wall hits, disaster lasting for weeks, months, even years.
It’s unavoidable. And I will honestly tell you that I don’t regret moments in my life. Even in the wake of destruction, every single hurricane has taught me a lesson. For that, I am immensely grateful to take the things I have learned and create a life-vest to use in the future. These are the things that help you survive. My hope is that when you are hurt, you will take those moments and use them yourself. I hope if you do chose to surrender to a storm, that you pick a boy who respects you. I chose the ones who made me laugh, the ones who were mysterious, or the ones who I thought I could change and understand better than anyone else. And they were wonderful when it was good. But the eye of a storm never lasts—people change, you grow apart, and you want a new direction. I might have suffered in those hurricanes, but they all taught me something for the future. Happiness doesn’t just come from others. The most euphoric moments of my life have been alone. I have felt personal success. I have laughed until I cried. I have traveled the world. Life is sometimes easier without the hurricanes, yes. But I couldn’t survive without them, and I hope you will learn from them, too.
You are stubborn, and it’s a natural trait that is contagious in our family. Willfulness is a blessing and a curse, at times. I hope you will learn soon that our family is so special and unique in the way that we care for each other. Mom and Dad know more than you think they do, and I hope it doesn’t take twenty years of your life to realize this, like it took me. The best lesson I ever learned from them was to never quit something you start. The follow-through has always been something hard for me, but that lesson pushed me to think critically about the work I produced inside and outside the classroom. Go to them when you have questions or need advice. Nobody knows you better than our parents, and nobody finds things out like our parents.
Christmas 2005. Here I am at 13, and you were 4.
People have asked me before if I consider you to be a sister, and I immediately ask, “Compared to what?” You belong to us the way we belong to you. We are tied together. For that reason, I hope you take these words to heart. I hope you find compassion for others during these years, learn to stand on your own, and have the courage to listen. I’m so excited to see where the journey of life takes you, Katie Cat, and I wish you all of the best.
I’m going to make an honest confession. I really, really enjoy it when a man opens the door open for me. At times, I’ve had friends tell me this gesture is “old-fashioned” and “pointless”. The action still signifies so much respect to me. And, while I’m at it, I also like it when men pay if I’ve been asked out on a date. I don’t mind taking the time to help out with my portion of the check, but some (possibly out-dated) part of me appreciates this courtesy, as well.
So, in the last month, if you were to ask me if I considered myself a feminist, I would scoff at the question. Me? A bra-burning, man-hating, never-shaving feminist? Not in a million years. Or, at least, not until I was able to fully grasp what the term feminism truly meant. In the past few months, I have been jolted into fast-forward with my life. I started a career, learned to travel independently, and have attempted acclimate to pressure associated with the world of a 20-somethings. Throughout my entire life, I have never understood what feminism stood for because I lived in a sheltered sphere of small-town, rural America. A feminist, in my hometown and even at my university, had become a radical symbol and I hated any association with it. Recently, I have come to believe that it wasn’t just my little bubble that had misjudged the word—it was the entire world.
Feminist [fem-uh-nist]— (adj.) a person advocating social, political, and economical rights for women equal to those of men.
This definition, along with three other people, has led me to question my own stance on the word feminism and also the movement of gender equality. Because I believe that women should be granted the same privileges and respect that men are afforded, I now have realized that I am, indeed, a feminist. I would like to take the time to share the three people in the last few months that have pushed me towards this deduction—Emma Watson, Sheryl Sandberg, and (yes, just like the title says) my father.
Emma Watson: Hermione takes a stand
Recently, a video has been going around of Emma Watson, famous British actress who delivered a scathing call to action to the United Nations. Watson was recently appointed a goodwill ambassador for UN Women, meaning that her job title is now to be a voice for women in the world. She’s been active in numerous other campaigns, especially the “Bring Back Our Girls” movement after 276 Nigerian schoolgirls were kidnapped by an Islamic militant group.
On September 20th, Watson addressed the world at the United Nations headquarters in New York. Her request for change begins with challenging all genders to consider ending gender inequality. Watson was speaking for the UN’s latest campaign, HeforShe, a mobilization encouraging both men and women to feel free from gender expectations and prejudice.
I’m abundantly amazed and proud of the audience she has reached. This has been shared countless times on my Facebook wall and the Twittersphere is all aflutter with the hashtag “HeforShe”. The actress who I once identified as my nerdy spirit animal in the Harry Potter films had me identifying with her once again. This time, my heart opened as she spoke of her growth as woman and the realization that she has been treated differently by society her entire life. And I cried when she confessed that being called bossy as a child hurt because, oh, did I empathize with that. I want to expect that my children, sons or daughters, will grow up in a world where they are treated equally, in America or any other country, despite their gender. My hope is that people will continue sharing this video and will take the time to research more into the campaign. And of course, my deepest dream is that the UN will reach their goal of having a billion men committing to this advocacy.
Sheryl Sandberg: More than surface level
On one of my recent longer car rides, I made the decision to buy the audiobook Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead by Sheryl Sandberg, the current COO of Facebook. This was really my first encounter with the idea of feminism, and I loved the fact that Sandberg took the time to correlate statistics with personal stories about her own journey in the professional world. Sandberg is one of the few women in the world to occupy an elite group of executives at the top. She frequently mentions how apparent it is to her that half of all the competition in this group isn’t even there. Where have all the women gone?
Why? Why aren’t more women leaders in this world? This can’t simply be attributed to sexism in the workforce any longer. Mad Men isn’t a reality, and man, am I thankful for that. While I do believe that in some places women do face subtle or extreme prejudice every day, I do not experience this at all and believe that such action is not tolerated in most environments. Sandberg hits the nail right on the head when she cites in her book that for women, our own sex and ourselves, even, are our worst enemies. I was called bossy as a child repeatedly and not just for being the oldest of four girls. As someone who deeply values personal relationships, these words have continued to sting all of my life.
Yet, how many times do I find myself bashing other women for coming across as too direct or rude? I’m ashamed to admit that the answer is a higher number than I wish. Human nature is competitive, but as women, we should learn to embrace and support each other throughout the journey. Now, I am motivated to encourage others before I react negatively. These words especially are hand-in-hand with the idea that women are more prone to self-doubt and continue to doubt their own abilities. Sandberg shared a story in her book about two women who physically refused to join the table with men at an executive meeting despite their right to sit there. In my deepest internal thoughts, I am constantly questioning my actions and words because, sometimes, I feel that I am not enough. It’s so easy to realize why these women felt they didn’t belong at the table. If we, as women, continue to question and discourage each other, women will be impacted by a vicious cycle of apprehension for their entire life and career. We deserve to sit at the table and enjoy each other’s company.
My Father: A Home with Five Females and One Bathroom
While so many women refuse to join the table at an executive meeting, a number of women are hesitant to even enter the building. Sandberg also addressed the idea that this self-doubt impact women’s choices for career. We second-guess our every move we make from a very early age, and I think this starts with our own families. A few days ago, I listened as a nineteen year old girl told me she changed her major from Pre-Health because she “wanted to be able to have a family and settle down”. She didn’t even have this family yet, but she was already trying to make accommodations and sacrificing her dream.
But I have been lucky enough to grow up in a family where I was encouraged to understand there were so many possibilities for my future. My sisters and I considered infinite amounts of careers, from ballerina to microbiologist, because we were encouraged to be our own person, not our gender. I’ve always referred to my parents as a team as they raised us. My mother had a major change of career when I was about ten years old, and my father embraced this idea and worked with my mother to reach this goal. She went from being a stay-at-home mom to owning her own business, and I am always inspired by her motivation, tenacity, and effort to balance time at home.
I’m thankful, additionally, that my father has embraced having four daughters every day of his life. And that is really difficult on a Sunday morning when we are all home, jockeying for a little mirror time in the bathroom that we all share, scrambling to make it to church on time. We were pushed just as hard as a boy would be to have a successful education and career. I was encouraged to pursue my passion in English Literature and never persuaded to consider a different path. Because my father is a man who supports women and remains a constant guide in my own life, I know that my horizon is limitless. He talks about the things we are interested in (that includes football and rock music), and really invests in who we are as individuals. My hope is that other men will support this attitude like my own father, especially in countries where few basic rights are provided to women and a father is the only voice she has.
I’m inspired by Emma Watson to embrace the word feminism. I’m grateful to Sheryl Sandberg for providing better insight into my own role as a female professional. Mostly, I’m thankful to my father for being a HeforShe before it was even a campaign and for encouraging me every baby step of the way.
One of my favorite college experiences occurred just last summer when I studied abroad in Scotland. If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you know that I adored the opportunity to travel and explore different cultures. I chose to study abroad in Scotland for a variety of reasons, but mainly it is because my family migrated from there generations ago and I have always felt strongly interested in Scottish nationality. There still stands a MacLellan Castle in the small town of Kirkcudbright in the southwestern region of Dumfries and Galloway, which I got to tour with a few friends. When one of my friends jokingly told the tour guide that it was “my” castle, he laughed and told me I should try paying the taxes on it for the past hundred years. While he was very kind like every person I met on my trip, Scottish pride clearly ran thick through this man’s veins.
When we were in Scotland, a movement was just beginning. I was studying at the University of Stirling, located nearby Edinburgh and Glasgow, and booths were beginning to pop up in the streets advertising “Vote Yes”. One night, I remember my room-mates coming home late and bringing a friend from the local area. I decided to ask her about the vote and what her opinion was on it. She was very young, just started studying at the university last year, but I was so impressed by her own understanding of the vote and what it would actually mean for her country to separate from the United Kingdom. Like many others who took a stand, as shown by the results a few days ago (55.3 to 44.7), she wanted to vote no to independence. Her main reasoning dealt with Scotland’s economy and, according to her, the inability to provide some services which would be necessary for an independent country. She believed they needed to remain in the UK, and I grew to support and agree with this decision over the course of this past year.
I also remember my surprise when I found out that people younger than this college aged girl were allowed to vote on the issue. A special on NPR captured my attention last week as I was visiting a few high schools in Southeast, KS. They were interviewing 16 and 17 years old high school students in Scotland who had recently gained this right to voice their opinion. A major question on the minds of many revolved around the maturity of this generation who now held power in their hands. I laughed out loud as a girl stated, “It’s not just about pop culture here anymore. We don’t just talk about One Direction. People think just because we’re young that we’re stupid, but we have real opinions. We talk about the economy and politics now.” She was so right. I think many people doubt and underestimate the youth in this world, and I experience this every day. Earlier this summer, I remember being pleasantly surprised when I met a number of high school students who seemed very driven and motivated about the future. But now I’ve realized, when young students find something they are passionate about, they are maybe even more inspired than some of the adults that I know because they realize that they can be part of change and that matters to them.
My takeaway from the Scottish vote for independence revolves around so much more than just the outcome of their decision to remain in the United Kingdom. Last year, I had the opportunity to be part of the beginning of a movement, the exploration of change. I’m still amazed every day that I have the opportunity to interact with young people who are beginning to do the same thing. It’s is overwhelming that 16 and 17 year olds have the opportunity to make life-changing decisions in other countries. But I see this happening every day as students are trying to decide their own fate and beginning a journey for themselves. It is wonderful to be part of change—big or small, in Scotland or my own state, political or personal. And I’m very thankful to witness these voices. One of my favorite quotes is from the Disney animated movie called Brave which takes place in Scotland, and I think that so many 16 and 17 year olds around the world emulate these words. “There are those who say fate is something beyond our command. That destiny is not our own, but I know better. Our fate lives within us, you only have to be brave enough to see it.”
My favorite things: Wildcats and Scotland
Slange (or cheers in Gaelic, the Celtic language of Scotland),
I’ve been on a major blogging hiatus. For someone who typically uses writing as a stress management tool, my soul has been hurting the past few weeks. From my early years, creativity has always played a major role in my life. I remember carrying a sketch book with me on long car rides just to capture different visions, design new outfits, or color and shade simple objects. In high school, creativity took new forms like making mixed CDs, experimenting with photography, and letting my thoughts flow into poetry or fiction.
The past few weeks have been a little hectic. I’ve been focusing every ounce of energy outside of myself, using my creativity in a different form by making the golden object for any working woman: the “To Do” List. And oh, how the list grows overnight even without water to nourish it. When things become busy, my imagination is one of the first things to go. Sleeping, eating, and more boring etc. takes precedence. But, as my newest idol Mindy Kaling (more on her later) says, “No one ever wants to hear how stressed out anyone else is because most of the time everyone is stressed out.”
I have formed a brand-new (and hopefully resilient) strategy and hope to make more time for writing as I begin this new school year. I think a routine will provide some more structure and less anxiety. In the meantime, as a newly christened 20-something, officially on the road, fresh employee, here are my most recent tips for stress management:
1. Make something
Butter, surprisingly, can be a great stress relief. And I’m not just talking about stress eating (which I am guilty of doing plenty of times). I recently broke out my room-mate’s vintage Kitchenaid mixer which belonged to her grandmother in the 60s. After some mild issues involving assembly, it was quite relaxing to whip up some rocking cookies (butter included) and get my hands a little sticky in cookie dough. I think taking the time to do anything with your hands, from pottery to gardening, can provide an excellent stress relief and I can’t wait to explore more of these options.
2. Laugh a little
If you have been around me in-person at all the past few weeks, you know that my latest obsession has to do with one hilarious Indian woman named Mindy Kaling. The producer/writer/star of “The Mindy Project” which is taking the television world by storm, Mindy makes me laugh even when I want to cry. Her insight into the world of professional women, dating, and just being all-around awkward is spot-on. I recently downloaded her book, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)”, and I empathize with every word she writes. From being comfortable in her own skin to being comfortable in her own brain, Mindy just gets me. If you need a little chuckle to distract you, check out Mindy or other comedic avenues. Laughter is the best medicine, after all.
3. Hit the Road
Luckily for me, my new job requires some mileage. There is something about just driving and taking in some alone time. My best thinking is done when I’m in the car with only my own thoughts for company. I’ve talked to some of my friends about this, and we all seem to agree that when the going gets tough, get in your car and get going. The best car playlist for some stress relief though? “Build Me Up Buttercup” on Pandora will keep you grooving for hours. Oldies have a special place in my heart, and these are always guaranteed to lift my mood, ridiculous dance moves included.
A recent travel destination: Moran, KS.
4. Quality Time
I’m thankful for wonderful friends and family who support me during the beginning of my transition into the professional world. Recently, I was lucky enough to spend some quality time with a few of my close friends who I hadn’t seen for the majority of the summer. It was such a blessing to catch up and debrief on our own lives. My sisters and I also spent time together the past few weeks, and they always fill me with such joy. From laughter to enjoying queso—there’s never a dull moment! Taking time from my own life to focus on others, even just to take a moment to catch up, can be a major stress relief and an important one.
5. Find your place
I think there’s something about returning to spot that holds a special place in your heart. This spot has changed in Manhattan, Kansas for me so often because every place in this wonderful town is “a spot that I love full well”. The Konza Prairie is the perfect place to escape and find peace of mind, especially if you’re looking for a long walk and beautiful sites. Another favorite of mine is Bluestem Bistro, which not only has the best cup of coffee in town but also a soothing atmosphere that helps me relax. Last year I would visit all the time on rainy afternoons to work on homework or my latest writing project. This past month, my place has been the First United Methodist Church on Pointz. The pastor is fabulous at public speaking, but often times, it’s the message that really keeps my attention. A couple weeks ago, I needed to hear a message about clean starts and peace. He delivered a message on allowing yourself to “Be Fresh Water”, providing a sanctuary for yourself and for others, and allowing forgiveness to wash over you. The choir performed a song that has always stayed with me called “River in Judea”, which I once performed in high school at a KMEA Honor Choir concert. I had previously been listening to the song all week to help myself relax, and I felt chills the moment the choir unexpectedly performed it. It might be a moment, like mine a few Sundays ago; it might be place you love. Any of these can provide you with the opportunity to refresh and rid yourself of stress which is getting in the way of your life.
A morning on the Konza Prairie this summer.
I’m hoping to take some of my own advice this semester and put these tips to good use. Eventually, I’m also hoping to have some profound blog posts. For the time being, however, in the words of Elsa from Frozen, I hope you all have the chance to “Let it Go” over the next few weeks and take some time for yourself. Make something, laugh a little, hit the road, enjoy some quality time, and find your place. You deserve it!
Today was a day for change. My job at the College of Architecture, Planning & Design came to an end. I have had the opportunity to work as a student for the college over the past two years, so being in Seaton Hall has become a routine for me. During my time there, I had the pleasure of witnessing strong and innovative design from students all around me from programs which ranked in the top 10 in the nation (excuse the shameless promotion.) More importantly, I had the opportunity to work with some amazing people.
I want to share a story about the importance of mentors. Many people in my life have heard about this metaphor before, but in the last few years, I can’t help but return to it again and again. In February 2013, I attended a conference about Strengths, a Gallup based assessment about individual talents. I could go on and on about the benefits of Strengths and will probably save it for a post coming later. More importantly, during this conference, I heard about Sherpas for the first time. Sherpas are an ethnic group located in the Himalayas who are traditionally known as skilled mountaineers. Generations of Sherpas have led numerous expeditions to Mount Everest, the highest mountain on the planet. Recently, the Sherpa people have been making headlines in the news after a severe avalanche in April which killed 16 guides, the worst accident in Everest’s history. After years of little pay, incredibly harrowing conditions, and a culture of suffering, many Sherpas intended to walk away from mountaineering forever.
What does this have to do with me? I’m sure you’re asking that question, just as I was when I heard this story about Sherpas last year. Here’s the thing: Sherpas don’t just exist in the Himalayas. Sherpas are everywhere around us, and today I was reminded of those people who have guided me to my highest peaks and through my valleys of trouble. Despite receiving nothing in return, my guides have taken a risk on my success and placed a great deal of investment in my future. I’m so thankful that the past few years I was able to work alongside with an incredible group of women who have stood by my side throughout my journey.
Although this phase of my life is coming to an end, I’ve taken some incredible lessons from my Sherpas at the College of Architecture, Planning & Design. I know that I’ll use these for the rest of my life and I’d love to share a few of them with you.
Never underestimate your value. I caught myself multiple times during my time in Seaton calling myself just a student worker. Each time one of my bosses heard this, they immediately corrected me. To me, some of the work that I had been doing, such as stuffing envelopes and directing traffic in the office, was not something to be considered important. But those envelopes were announcements of acceptance into a program. That traffic could involve a conversation with a prospective student. Every bit of work that I did was a contribution, and my bosses always made me feel like an important member of the team.
Listen. It took me a while to understand the value of listening, probably because I enjoy talking a little too much. No matter where I was, even in a lunch hour conversation, I had something to learn. All it took was opening my ears and observing. From speech styles to lessons in being prepared, I really enjoyed listening and learning from successful women who had perfected techniques over the years.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions. This one might seem a little obvious, but in my first few years of college, I had a hard time approaching my professors or other superiors. When in doubt, I always ask questions now. I would much rather do something right the first time instead of waiting until the last minute with numerous questions.
Be professional, but personable. I think there are some serious benefits to behaving like a professional when in the workplace. However, my bosses could immediately sense if I was struggling or stressed. After establishing a strong relationship, they were able to become an additional support system. I can’t thank them enough for the occasional ice cream trips and study snacks during finals week. Their support and kindness made my days so much brighter.
Ask for help. This might be my favorite lesson learned. As I started to look to the next phase of my life, I had an incredible team of resources available to me. Never had I written a cover letter or a “real life” resume before. But my bosses had. They pored over documents, quizzed me on experiences, and encouraged me to chase after my dream job. If I hadn’t asked my Sherpas for help, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
So, to my bosses, my Sherpas of the workplace, thank you for everything you have done for me in the past two years. Thank you for listening and learning with me. Thank you for spotting the potential in me, even before I was able to actually see it myself. Thank you for guiding me throughout my journey and placing me at the spot I’m at right now. Thank you for never walking away. It was hard to say “see you later” today, but I know we won’t be saying good-bye for a very long time.
Welcome, and thanks for checking out my blog! This is my first post, and I’m looking forward to staying connected and posting more in the next week. In the meantime, check out my “About” section and explore.
For now, I’d like to explain the title of this blog and my aspirations for it. I have always loved writing from a very young age, taking every opportunity to express myself. I believe that this is a great avenue to explore my interests in writing, photography, traveling, and parts of my life. The title of this blog is “Such a Blessed Unrest” and refers to a quote by Martha Graham, an American dancer (1894-1991). Graham has been cited as one of the most influential choreographers of all time, and once spoke of success and creativity in terms of a “blessed unrest”.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is on a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”
So, my blessed unrest, whether it be traveling or writing or anything that I really desire, gives me life in this world as long as I remain open to it. I look forward to sharing my journey as I continue to explore!
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PRAIRIE PINES 