the process-ing; editing drafts

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I wrote this piece nearly 5 years ago. Until now, I feared it being read by anyone but myself. “What would others think? What if they don’t get it? Or like it? What if I’m a shitty writer?”

I’ve outgrown such small, ego-filled thoughts. It’s time to share this piece. There is change in the air and it’s time to come out of my forest of shame and isolation, creatively speaking that is. Some pieces can’t be returned to for years. It takes that time and space to edit a piece objectively and with fresh eyes. Let the wounds heal, form scars and tougher tissue to cut away later.

I’d rather not provide too much context to this piece, and let it hit you where you let it.

What does it say to you? Where in your soul does it resonate? Let me know.

Namaste.

working title; golden handcuffs

“I wonder if it will happen again today,” she thought, “though the food is good when it does.”

Looking down all she could see were people. People with cameras snapping photos of her and the others. “How strange,” she wondered as she closed her eyes and returned to sleep. 

her rumbling stomach woke her and simultaneously incurred an ominous feeling. “It’s about that time,” murmuring under a heavy breath. She saw the young man in the white gown approaching. “Oh bother.”

There was a decision to be made. It could go one of two ways; Be uncooperative and return to an uninterrupted but irksome afternoon of endless flashes of light. Or cooperate and be rewarded.

“No matter what the flashes will disrupt my sleep. And if it’s not today it will be tomorrow. Or the next day. Might as well get it over with.”

The gowned man called for her. Shuffling down she noticed the faces of the others and the surprise that she went so freely. She sauntered toward the opening where the man was waiting. “Here we go.”

She could smell the sweet golden goo already. Her sensory receptors perked up. But at the same time something kept her excitement subdued. There was a feeling she remembered on her skin. A memory of what she would have to endure soon. 

Another was being taken out. Their eyes connected. “What’s different?”

Something small was missing that had been there earlier. It was almost unnoticeable but the absence was there. 

She was given something sweet, picked up and placed somewhere hard and cold. There were people in blue gowns and gloves were waiting in a line. All eyes on her; their collective gaze felt predatory, like she was about to be devoured.

The first blue gown sat next to her smiling. She couldn’t understand the desire of these blue-gowned people to sit with her amongst the ceaseless flashing. 

When she felt gloved hand rub her belly, the sweet food grew bitter. “Oh yeah,” she remembered, “this is what this is.” 

#shortstories #shortstory #theprocess #bloodtexts #letitbleed #writer #writing #writeitout #writingcommunity #drafts #goldenhandcuffs #metoo #timesup #create #write #writingheals

Return to Wuhan

It took nearly 8 years but we’re back. Wuhan and I have both grown. There are high rises as far as the eye can see and highways connecting all the major districts; more bridges crossing the Yangtze River; more subways underground and more cars above it. But the return felt like a homecoming, despite the changes in us both.

I’m working with English First (EF for short) once again, but returning as a senior teacher. With my previous experience with EF and my experience working with students in the US, I was able to return with a promoted position. More responsibility and more work for sure, but I’m excited for the challenge. Stay tuned for my adventures in teaching English as a foreign language!

When I arrived in 2012 there were 9 million people. Now, depending on where you consider the edge of the city is, it’s closer to 13 million. Still a small city by Chinese standards but Wuhan dwarfs the largest cities in the States. Before there were two subway lines, now there are 16 and counting, connecting all major parts of the city. And with electric taxis and vehicles subsidized by the government, it’s never been easier to get around. DiDi is the Chinese Uber and regularly used by locals and foreigners alike. Everything is pay by phone or QR code- I felt so archaic trying to buy fried rice the first few weeks with paper money!

Previously I lived in the Hankou district, the center of business and international commerce. Major banks have their main branch in Hankou, as well as many foreign businesses have their headquarters. Hankou is also the home to the local expat watering hole, Brussels, owned by a lovely Belgium fellow now married to a good friend here. He holds Christmas dinner for foreigners with no place to celebrate, and trivia nights during the school year. It became a home away from home for many expats living in Wuhan. More about Brussels in future posts….

This time around I’m in Hanyang. Previously my only experience with this part of the city was working in a primary school for six months which contracted EF teachers to teach their English classes and their curriculum. 50 students per class, six classes, 40 minutes per class, three to five days a week. I’ll say it was less about teaching English and more about exposing students to the language and managing the classroom. It was a grind but taught me much about the culture and how to engage any size class.

I’m 2014, Hanyang was just beginning to develop as an economic center. It was less populated, had leas business, and had more open sky than Hankou or Wuchang. It was connected to the city by the above ground metro, though there wasn’t much going on out here to draw my attention- except the foreign import store Metro originating in Germany. Monthly I would venture out, taking the metro Line 1 to stock up on bacon, white bread, tortillas, and whatever other foreign food I was craving to make at home. I’d taxi back with my goods, overloaded bags and 500¥ less than when I started.

How Hanyang is growing exponentially with yellow cranes constructing high rise apartments as the city moves outward. More foreign cars and families with young children are seen on the walk to work, as well as more businesses, banks, and office buildings. What was once the old part of Wuhan is becoming new.

I’m excited to explore Hanyang and Wuhan with fresh eyes and a new perspective of the city. I’ll be discussing what changed and what has stayed the same on a new blog. The new one is currently under construction, stay tuned here for my adventures in Wuhan! And keep an eye out for The Wandering Yogi!

Let’s go! Jiayou!

Wild Roamings

April 1925 my great-grandmother and my grandmother boarded a steamboat in Stavanger, Norway headed to America. They were meeting my great grandfather already working and settled in Potlatch, Idaho half a world away from the fjords of western Scandinavia. Carved out by the glacial floods of the prehistoric Lake Missoula, Though seemingly familiar in geological surroundings, the Palouse of the Inland Northwest provided familiar geological surrounding and a sense of home.

Nearly 90 years after their journey across the Atlantic ocean, I left home and travelled halfway around the world to a place I’d never been and where I knew no one. I was excited to live a life completely foreign to me. I wanted to challenge what I knew and expand my outlook. I wanted something different than the environment I had experience for 20+ years. I wanted change. And I wanted to be changed.

Now, nearly 100 years after their journey and 10 years after my maiden voyage, I’m taking my wanderings back across the Pacific. It’s time for more change; time for more growth; time for more expansion; time to return to a foreign land and make it my home. I’ve been back in the Inland NW for nearly 8 years…8 years longer than I ever planned on being here, but it was necessary. Now, it’s time to roam.

I’ll be returning to the same city as before; to friends that became like family; to a similar position but greater insight to do it properly now. I’m excited to return to teaching English; to live and work abroad; to having the time and the ability to explore other countries…but leaving is always hard, even if it’s the right thing to do.

Moving forward, this blog will be primarily travel-related, comparing my experience from 10 years ago to now, and an attempt to highlight the ideas of import along the way.

Ready..set…roam…

Balancing Act

Balance is something we create not something that is found.

For years (the majority of my life really) I’ve tried to find balance. Thinking if I go here, achieve this, accomplish that I’ll finally feel “balanced.” Becoming a yogi, I thought I’d gain some insight but with that comes more to balance, more challenges to handle.

For me, finding balance meant leaving the places that left me off-kilter. It meant quitting my job of four years and turning inward. It meant setting boundaries with family and friends. It meant walking away from relationships that not only no longer served me, but we’re actively hindering my progress. It meant getting uncomfortable and disrupting the balancing act I had grown accustomed to. It meant prioritizing my health in a world that was constantly asking me to sacrifice well-being.

So often we accommodate this or that not recognizing the greater impact; how these little self-sacrifices drain our preverbal cup and dig at our identify; that those times we don’t say “no” take away from the time we have to say “yes” to what we actually want. Each accommodation adding one more thing to carry, to balance, to take up space until there is no space left for ourselves.

It took getting really comfortable with being uncomfortable before my nervous system and I understood what “comfortable” was. For me, the person with multiple mental health diagnoses, being comfortable meant familiar chaos, thriving in the the turmoil, sacrificing my well being for the sake of others, living off adrenaline in toxic relationships that mirror what I grew up with…I had to unlearn all these things before I could experience anything resembling “comfort” let alone “balance.”

I had to do less so I could do more. And yes, it’s cliche but because it’s true. I had to walk away from people I loved, quit the jobs I had invested in, and most importantly, love myself with grace and compassion when I could no longer do everything for everyone but myself anymore.

The more space I held for myself, the more space I had to create balance ⚖️

Wild Grief

Death follows some like a shadow…

We feel it’s weight on our heels but without it we’d never feel life and the extremity of joy on the other side.

Grief is an energy to transmute, like all the rest. But if we don’t, death becomes a more than a shadow…

Loosing him at 30 isn’t the hardest thing I’ve had to overcome, accept, deal with, process…but that doesn’t mean I don’t still cry about it. What is the hardest is a challenge based the day bc he’s not here to lend a shoulder to cry on. He was my rock. The one I went to went shit hit the fan. Sometimes it took a while to go to him but I usually did. I regret not going to him more. I regret not making more time for him. I regret the years spent in the my shit while he was slowly wasting away under the weight of everyone else’s burdens. I regret not being there for him more. To hold his hand and lend my shoulder for him to have a rest upon. I regret avoiding the feelings of his disease and his death. I regret letting such trivial things consume his last years.

Now I’m living different. Honoring your life instead of mourning. Allowing for myself to come fruition like he wanted me to. I’m letting myself be and putting myself first. Then others. I’m learning from his mistakes; his lack of knowledge; the things he didn’t have time or know how to feel.

I’m learning how to feel authentically. Without shame or hiding, without drama or fear but with compassion and grace. I’m allowing myself to feel all the things I’ve avoided and letting the grief transmute itself.

Wild Wild West

“It’s not personal. It’s business.”

Lived by this my whole life, never quite understanding the irony. Business is nothing nor personal. It’s based on trust and confidence, loyalty and connection; things you build with those you are personal with.

When any of these are betrayed due to business reasons; when one puts business first then we lose then we lose ourselves…

Greed is a funny emotion. Masquerading in the name of business, greed for money and material possessions. Capitalism pinning man against man, fighting to survive, to put food on the table.

I did everything I was suppose to do but I can’t find my place. It’s a racket out there. When I try to focus on business and be frank, people take it personal…when I’m emotional people say it’s just business…which is it?

Or maybe why can’t it be both？

Wild Dreams

One day we’ll fall asleep together instead of apart, waking still wrapped in each other. Rising before the sun, making warm beverages for two as we both ready for the day.

Apart when the sun is up, together with the moon. Our love looks better in the dark. Coming back to the other when duty is done and rest has been won.

Wild Feelings

Being a woman wild means feeling for your people. Holding space, making space, showing how and sharing feelings for and with others. It means feeling more for those around you.

The Wild Woman is tapped in with her emotions, tuned in with what’s her’s and what’s not. She doesn’t carry these like a burden but as armor. Her sensitivities her protection; her vulnerabilities her power, her strength.

Wild Women roam free; liberating all those they encounter, dropping seeds and sprouts of life wherever they go.

Always wandering…

Never settling…

So Blessed Be the Wild Women

bloody news

It’s hard to watch these days, isn’t it? A long time ago I stopped watching as much “traditional” news and switched a primarily satire only diet. The Daily Show and shows and voices alike led my thinking along with a liberal education. From a young age I developed a healthy level of skepticism when it came to the media.

Now, in these times of crisis and so much unknown, we are turning to media, our phones, the news, politicians, entertainers, local leaders, and of course, each other for information and support during these times. It helps us keep together but it can also promote fear, anxiety, and chaos if the information is bad. It’s hard to find the good these days.

I find the good and a decent amount of infortmation watch Samantha Bee, Stephen Colbert, Seth Meyers, and others like them during these depressing times. I need the laugh and their satirical perspectives to endure the rest that quite simply makes me want to cry.

So what do you do to find the good? How do you find good news and differentiate between fear mongering and telling it straight?

Grind on, my friends ❤

#blog #bloodtexts #news #satire #stephencolbert #thedailyshow #samanthabee #fullfrontal #thelateshow #alateshow #quarantinelife #write #writer #writing #writingcommunity #goodnews #badnews #blogposts