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I will find my own words, again, in the near or distant future. I will taste them, mould them, turn them over in my mouth and in my mind, fit them together like so many treasured puzzle pieces that might someday paint a beautiful picture.
Meantime, I will enjoy the art of the writing of others...
Meantime, I will enjoy the art of the writing of others...
Wild Geese
- 1986 You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -- over and over announcing your place in the family of things. Mary Oliver
Since February, eh?
Can I claim that Facebook stole my umph for writing things?
that life got full, crazy, wonderful, and decidedly less 'plugged in'?
that I just forgot?
Life is about to throw me some major new twists. I suppose I'm pitching them to myself, actually. Starting a new job, buying a house, settling into a new community... I feel like a "real" grown up. Only... I don't actually *feel* like one, I just feel like I must look more so from the outside. Does that make any sense?
This whole growing-myself-up process is so strange. I sort of feel like someone's supposed to be there patting me on the back and congratulating me each step I take, as if somehow I need recognition for getting a mortgage, setting up a retirement account, getting homeowner's insurance, making new friends... silly. Everyone else does these things without being congratulated for just living...
So anyways, I want to tell you all about how incredible this new phase of my life is: how beautiful my new home is, how inspiring my co-workers are, how proud I am to be working where I am, how blessed I feel and how terrified I feel and how much I'm not sure I deserve it all but it's not about deserving... how I can't wait for you to come visit so that we can make a little fire out in my backyard and share stories on the patio next to the strawberry patch...
... but instead, I'm just going to tell you that I've been having this insatiable lusting for an old creaky card-catalog to be my first piece of furniture. Isn't that silly?
Can I claim that Facebook stole my umph for writing things?
that life got full, crazy, wonderful, and decidedly less 'plugged in'?
that I just forgot?
Life is about to throw me some major new twists. I suppose I'm pitching them to myself, actually. Starting a new job, buying a house, settling into a new community... I feel like a "real" grown up. Only... I don't actually *feel* like one, I just feel like I must look more so from the outside. Does that make any sense?
This whole growing-myself-up process is so strange. I sort of feel like someone's supposed to be there patting me on the back and congratulating me each step I take, as if somehow I need recognition for getting a mortgage, setting up a retirement account, getting homeowner's insurance, making new friends... silly. Everyone else does these things without being congratulated for just living...
So anyways, I want to tell you all about how incredible this new phase of my life is: how beautiful my new home is, how inspiring my co-workers are, how proud I am to be working where I am, how blessed I feel and how terrified I feel and how much I'm not sure I deserve it all but it's not about deserving... how I can't wait for you to come visit so that we can make a little fire out in my backyard and share stories on the patio next to the strawberry patch...
... but instead, I'm just going to tell you that I've been having this insatiable lusting for an old creaky card-catalog to be my first piece of furniture. Isn't that silly?
Since this year seems to be the year of the disappearing-money-act, I figured my resolutions (not that I always make them or anything, but heck, why not?!) should reflect that. And, this will be the first year in... ever??? that I will actually start getting a salary. Sooo... this year, I resolve to:
-live within my means
-start saving for retirement (not that I ever imagine actually retiring...)
-firmly setting a tithe. Not to the CHURCH... but I really respect the idea of donating 10% of your income to charity. So I will. Or at least try. Oh wait... I don't HAVE any income! But... I will...
-keep to a budget
and... I'm not sure exaaaactly how this one will work out, but I'd like to at least attempt to
-not buy things.
(I just spent the last 4 days going through boxes and boxes of STUFF in storage at my parents house. It seems that, despite having moved every few months for the past 12 years, I've still managed to amass a shocking quantity of junk. Personal junk; meaninful junk; important junk... but still. It's a little embarrassing.)
I'm in the midst of a wonderful book right now: "The Geography of Bliss." I seem to remember hearing about some of these ideas before: that the country of Bhutan, for example, measures and directs its development through the lens of its "Gross National Happiness." That there is a level of income, above which a person does not become any more happy. (which is surprisingly low: according to "the research," making above $15K per year doesn't make anyone any happier. Which is a little funny, since that will getcha drastically different lifestyles depending on where you are... but hey. whaddoIknow...) I love the idea of both a personal and a global frameshift that will allow us to measure our progress not from the perspective of capitalism (like any other 'ism' this, to me, signifies a discrimination against others. based on their capital.), but in light of the TRUE end-point of how much real satisfaction have we brought ourselves (and at the expense of how much satisfaction in others)?
Thanks to my leedle bruddah, who talked the whole family into wandering into downtown Syracuse for a protest/rally against the bombing of Gaza. That's right... while we're all cozied up with our eggnog and holiday cheer, our taxdollars are subsidizing air strikes in Palestine. Not that the ratios in our wars are much different (probably even higher), but the UN lists fatalities as 4 Palestinians for every Israeli since 2000, and 25:1 in the past year. Most fatalities have been civilian.
The gathering was small ("intimate," you may say... or else an indicator that the average Syracusian's attentions are *definitely* elsewhere). But it was actually a really beautiful symbol of solidarity- Jews, Muslims, Christians, and Athiests standing up and speaking to the group, reminding us that this is a political battle, not a religious one. We spent some time chatting with an American woman who'd married an Israeli man and raised their 4 children in Israel for most of their lives before moving back to the states a few years ago. Her teenage girls stood out in the cold and wind with us for an hour, holding up signs decrying the loss of innocent blood. It had been easy not to notice what was going on as a young person there, they said. But every once in a while now they'd see photos of places that had been bombed and think "hey, I used to walk by that spot."
My cousin has been to Palestine several times over the past few years, working as a midwife at checkpoints. Can you imagine having your child at a military checkpoint?!? They don't let traffic through. Period. And so women with complicated labor sit in the back of ambulances for hours, days, and as you can imagine the mortality rate is incredibly high, for moms and babies. She's pretty awesome, my cuz. Meanwhile, I just stand out in the cold on a streetcorner in Syracuse... for now...
(actually... more like past for you. Some old goodies. N'joy!)
phenomena.
These dudes were always my favorite, for some reason. No one seems to get it when I wander around quoting "yipyipyip, telephooooone, telephooooone..."
and they always had such cool guests, although we were too little to realize it... (this happened way after I stopped watching, but oh well!)
thanks to the universe, and to all the tiny cogs that keep it spinning, for:
words,
hugs,
laughter.
the smell of garlic roasting,
the sound of a bottle uncorking,
a full belly,
a sound night's sleep.
the stars in the sky;
snow falling on a sunny day;
warmth in the midst of blustery cold.
words,
hugs,
laughter.
the smell of garlic roasting,
the sound of a bottle uncorking,
a full belly,
a sound night's sleep.
the stars in the sky;
snow falling on a sunny day;
warmth in the midst of blustery cold.
I had high hopes of a bonfire on solstice... unfortunately, the 21st found the Northeast socked in a series of ice-storms and blizzards... and me nowhere near it. I found it strangely difficult to feel solstice-y while wandering around in the Sonoran desert:
Christmas Eve. My younger memories of this day involve candle-lit congregations at the Methodist church, our father solemnly reading Bible passages about Jesus' birth, getting to open a single present (we'd select carefully so as to get a surprise: the small squishy rectangular ones- wool socks from dad- were certainly welcome but entirely too predictable). This year was the first time for much of my adult life that we've been home for the holidays. The last decade has found us traveling instead of gifting- Hawai'i, Mexico, Spain when my bro was there during college, The Gambia when I was there for Peace Corps...
So on a quiet 24th we all gathered around the table after dinner (a too-spicy mole I'd made, that had thoroughly cleared out our sinuses). My father and I, recently returned from a drive across the country after I'd finished my west-coast residency interviews. My brother, back from Columbia (the country, not the university) for a few short weeks before returning to begin his teaching job. My mom, like the rest of us, wishing my sister and brother-in-law had joined us instead of running off to Whistler to go snowboarding.
New tradition? My father and brother sat on opposite sides of the table, a copy of the bible in front of one, Lao Tsu in front of the other. For about 15 minutes, they traded Proverbs back and forth. Then we sat around until about 2 am drinking whiskey and playing card and dice games, laughing until our sides wanted to split and trying to resist the plates and plates and plates of cookies in the kitchen.
This made me laugh:
Warmth and egg-nog to you all!
OK, folks, I need your help. By mid-February I have to submit a "wish list" to the residency match program, which will potentially decide where I'll be living and working for the next 3 years. So far, I really can't figure out how I'm going to decide where to go. (I'm plagued by the problem of falling in love with all of the programs I've seen!) Just for kicks... help me out by answering 2 (or 3) quick survey questions,and I'll figure out some way to factor in your opinions to my decision:
Find me a new home!
A LITTLE BACKGROUND:
In case you didn't know (or if you did, a reminder): I graduate from UVM medical school in May. I'll start a 3-year residency in Family Medicine (no, not exactly like life in Scrubs...) sometime mid-June.
After a long time deliberating on where to apply (many many hours agonizing over literally hundreds of programs), I ended up applying to almost a dozen residencies mostly in the northeast and the northwest. I picked programs based on a constellation of factors, including word-of-mouth reputation of the program, commitment to working with underserved populations, ability to weave international medicine into my training, proximity to family and friends, ability to work with Spanish-speaking patient population, access to outdoor activities, and general liveability of the area. I've been traveling around and interviewing at these places over the past few weeks. Only about halfway done, but here are a few highlights I've gleaned thus far (they're ALL great training programs, so that's not a factor):
very passionate about social justice: Santa Rosa, Seattle, Lawrence
formal, impressive international medicine curriculum: Asheville, Lancaster, Santa Rosa, Seattle, Rochester
large Latino population: Lawrence (also has a formal Spanish curriculum for residents), Santa Rosa, Seattle, Fort Collins
Thanks for playin'!
Lawrence
Fort Collins
Asheville
Santa Rosa
Martinez
Seattle (Cherry Hill)
Olympia
Lancaster
Rochester
Portland, Maine
Long overdue to do one of these, and today seems like just the boost needed!
today and every day, I'm grateful for:
A body that is able and loves to move,
A mind that takes joy in discovery.
A family that both grounds me and inspires me.
Friends that make me question this world,
and friends that make me take pride in our world,
An earth that has shocking resilience;
and an earth that is vulnerable and demands protection
(giving us opportunities to be better versions of ourselves).
today and every day, I'm grateful for:
A body that is able and loves to move,
A mind that takes joy in discovery.
A family that both grounds me and inspires me.
Friends that make me question this world,
and friends that make me take pride in our world,
An earth that has shocking resilience;
and an earth that is vulnerable and demands protection
(giving us opportunities to be better versions of ourselves).
28 things I did when I was 28 (in no particular order):
1. learned to surf
2. hit enough bulls-eyes in darts to not feel completely incompetent
3. admitted to depression, and did something about it
4. learned to carve wooden bowls on a lathe
5. became a fairy godmother
6. baked scones
7. expanded my repertoire of close friends with whom I've lived and managed to remain friends
8. waterskied in mid-October
9. postponed guitar lessons, again.
10. agonized over a crush, and decided I'm hopeless
11. fell in love with the be good tanyas, even though I can't understand a damn word she sings
12. survived the 3rd year of medical school
13. turned down a job teaching midwives in Liberia in order to finish 21st grade
14. met a woman who married her teenage sweetheard for the *second* time when they were both 82
15. baked ridiculous amounts of bread
16. started a yoga teacher's course
17. hiked naked in the full moonlight
18. learned to resuscitate babies
19. been witness to death
20. swam 6 miles
21. biked 100 miles
22. applied for jobs in NC, OR, WA, MA, ME, CA, and NYC (even though I said I'd never live there)
23. kissed a stranger in a kissing booth
24. climbed a Mayan temple
25. worked in a psychiatric hospital, and loved it
26. met god (see above), which was a little scary
27. forgot it was my birthday, on my birthday (and was OK with that)
28. danced, and danced, and danced some more
1. learned to surf
2. hit enough bulls-eyes in darts to not feel completely incompetent
3. admitted to depression, and did something about it
4. learned to carve wooden bowls on a lathe
5. became a fairy godmother
6. baked scones
7. expanded my repertoire of close friends with whom I've lived and managed to remain friends
8. waterskied in mid-October
9. postponed guitar lessons, again.
10. agonized over a crush, and decided I'm hopeless
11. fell in love with the be good tanyas, even though I can't understand a damn word she sings
12. survived the 3rd year of medical school
13. turned down a job teaching midwives in Liberia in order to finish 21st grade
14. met a woman who married her teenage sweetheard for the *second* time when they were both 82
15. baked ridiculous amounts of bread
16. started a yoga teacher's course
17. hiked naked in the full moonlight
18. learned to resuscitate babies
19. been witness to death
20. swam 6 miles
21. biked 100 miles
22. applied for jobs in NC, OR, WA, MA, ME, CA, and NYC (even though I said I'd never live there)
23. kissed a stranger in a kissing booth
24. climbed a Mayan temple
25. worked in a psychiatric hospital, and loved it
26. met god (see above), which was a little scary
27. forgot it was my birthday, on my birthday (and was OK with that)
28. danced, and danced, and danced some more
Inspired by this entry on Why We Practice and a week's worth of diving deeper into my practice than I've ever been, I wrote this and thought I'd share it with you.
( Yoga is... )
The simple act of breathing.
Feet so bruised from dancing that they can barely stand to walk.
The joy and excitement of new friendships.
The sweetness and comfort of friendships that feel older than time.
The sound of rain falling on water.
The freshness of the air after a good storm.
The jar of tomato leaves and nasturtiums adorning the kitchen table.
The fertility and abundance of July.
I made a bizarre connection the other day. I had just finished up a yoga workshop: FIVE HOURS of breath work (pranayama: prana= life force, yama= control, harnessing) . Five hours of just focusing all of our energy on the simple act of inhaling and exhaling air. At the end of it all I positively felt like I was floating, like I was made of helium instead of water! As I drove past the hospital on my way home, I saw a small cluster of nurses and a few folks in wheelchairs with IV lines in tow, sitting and standing around with cigarettes in hand. Ever stopped to think about the beautiful symbolism of smoke breaks? I'm not trying to celebrate tobacco addictions here or anything... but it amazed me to think about how people with a smoking habit take a break out of their lives- their work, their family lives, their play- every hour, every 2 hours, or even more often- to just focus on the simple act of inhaling and exhaling. *pathological*, mind you... but... nicotine addiction aside, it must be so hard to let go of those moments of meditation! Imagine a progressive workplace that set up a clean-air spot and allowed everyone periodic breaks to go and sit quietly and just *breathe* for a few minutes.
On your suggestion, I'm in the midst of reading Diane Ackerman's Natural History of the Senses, which is a sensual delight. This passage held me for a long time: "Smell is the mute sense, the one without words. ... we smell always and with every breath. Cover your eyes and you will stop seeing, cover your ears and you will stop hearing, but if you cover your nose and try to stop smelling, you will die. Etymologically speaking, a breath is not neutral or bland-- it's cooked air; we live in a constant simmering. There is a furnace in our cells, and when we breathe we pass the world through our bodies, brew it lightly, and turn it loose again, gently altered for having known us."
My latest breathing exercises have taken place in the lake, floating on my back. Hold in my inhale as long as I comfortably can... watch the clouds slowly roll by, the waves rocking me... exhale gently as my body starts to sink down... pull air back in so that I can pull myself back up to the surface once again. You should try it sometime.
On your suggestion, I'm in the midst of reading Diane Ackerman's Natural History of the Senses, which is a sensual delight. This passage held me for a long time: "Smell is the mute sense, the one without words. ... we smell always and with every breath. Cover your eyes and you will stop seeing, cover your ears and you will stop hearing, but if you cover your nose and try to stop smelling, you will die. Etymologically speaking, a breath is not neutral or bland-- it's cooked air; we live in a constant simmering. There is a furnace in our cells, and when we breathe we pass the world through our bodies, brew it lightly, and turn it loose again, gently altered for having known us."
My latest breathing exercises have taken place in the lake, floating on my back. Hold in my inhale as long as I comfortably can... watch the clouds slowly roll by, the waves rocking me... exhale gently as my body starts to sink down... pull air back in so that I can pull myself back up to the surface once again. You should try it sometime.
One Confession:
01. I try to do too much. But that's hardly a confession; you knew that already.
I rescued this amaryllis from my uncle's basement.
To show its gratitude, it's now blooming it's heart out.
Pictures don't quite do it justice, but we had a phenomenally wild rainstorm last night.
The sky turned an unreal shade of orange, and then just opened wide.
Golf-ball sized hail that bounced back up in the air when it hit the ground.
Rain that defied gravity.
Thunder, lightening, the whole deal.
I looove summer storms.
summer, generous:
her wild colors and contours
beckoning onward...
Gosh, I've been ignoring this space for a long time now. Time for a little LJ love. I hate to confess: I've gotten sucked into the madness of the facebook world, but it's a strange world- fast paced, frenetic, and a little bit narcissistic- and I miss the intimacy of taking my time writing about things that've been really fermenting in my mind for a long time. It's much nicer to do when I hear back from those of you out there listening, so don't forget to leave me a little hello!
I've been on a food kick for a while now; devouring any and every book I can get my hands on that looks at the culture of food in this country and the ways in which there are little sparks of revolution out there trying to re-instill some SANITY into our collective conscious. Still working on "the omnivore's dilemma", but this will be on my list next.
Earlier this week I had the great pleasure of hearing Michael Pollan speak up on campus. I had to do a little fiddling with my bike... and bike up a greuling hill in 90+ degree humid weather... so I was a little late. The chapel where they were holding the talk was already overflowing into the back hallway. I settled in on the floor among the other outside loiterers, one ear close enough to the doorway that I could hear what was happening inside. It was an appropriate space for this talk, where he talked about the 'religion' of nutritionism, the way that we've reduced foods down to their component pieces of "micronutrients" to such a degree that the average person is supposed to believe that they can't figure it out on their own and needs the 'priests and priestesses' to mediate for them. Because do you really have an understanding of what a protein/carbohydrate/beta-carotene/calci
As someone who will be taking care of all the heart disease we're inflicting on ourselves, I sure do hope it catches on fast. For your sake, and for mine. And maybe once we've reinstated some sanity, we can settle in to really enjoying the process of eating instead of causing ourselves so much stress over whether or not we're doing it "right."
I've been on a food kick for a while now; devouring any and every book I can get my hands on that looks at the culture of food in this country and the ways in which there are little sparks of revolution out there trying to re-instill some SANITY into our collective conscious. Still working on "the omnivore's dilemma", but this will be on my list next.
Earlier this week I had the great pleasure of hearing Michael Pollan speak up on campus. I had to do a little fiddling with my bike... and bike up a greuling hill in 90+ degree humid weather... so I was a little late. The chapel where they were holding the talk was already overflowing into the back hallway. I settled in on the floor among the other outside loiterers, one ear close enough to the doorway that I could hear what was happening inside. It was an appropriate space for this talk, where he talked about the 'religion' of nutritionism, the way that we've reduced foods down to their component pieces of "micronutrients" to such a degree that the average person is supposed to believe that they can't figure it out on their own and needs the 'priests and priestesses' to mediate for them. Because do you really have an understanding of what a protein/carbohydrate/beta-carotene/calci
As someone who will be taking care of all the heart disease we're inflicting on ourselves, I sure do hope it catches on fast. For your sake, and for mine. And maybe once we've reinstated some sanity, we can settle in to really enjoying the process of eating instead of causing ourselves so much stress over whether or not we're doing it "right."
Today I went kayaking on the lake.
Watched the sun set over the adirondacks
as the wind burned my chilly cheeks and the waves froze as soon as they hit the boat,
or my hands. The feeling of water moving under me made me giddy with pleasure. :-)
These are some of the light switch & outlet covers I made for our new home:
stolen shamelessly from pages of a patagonia catalogue and a "borrowed" airplane magazine.
This is the coat rack I made-
from a tree I chopped down while helping my uncle clear a spot to build a sauna a few summers ago
(Jesse, I promised you a picture of my woodworking projects AGES ago... this is a start.)
This is the bikepath that runs through our yard, next to the lake, and into the woods
This is my roomate Laura-Rose and her pooch Shayla,
and another friend Laurel,
(fresh back from 2 weeks of adventure therapy out in the woods with a bunch of teenage girls.)
And this is the housewarming gift that our 12-year old neighbor Sequoia brought us,
with the following disclaimer:
"We made you this.
And then after it was done someone mentioned that it was kind of a Christian thing...
so umm...
we're sorry."
(only in VT, do you worry about offending your pagan neighbors with Christian symbolism.)
We thanked her profusely for her kind and wonderful gift,
and reminded her that Christians didn't have sole dominion
over joy in anticipation of springtime and new beginnings.
Happy vernal equinox to you and yours...
que sera Sarah
Here's a document I put together, in some of my darker moments over the past few months, as a reminder to myself (and anyone else I could pass it on to) of some of the ways to make it through the medical system with my soul not completely trampled.
I'm working on ways to share this with other medical students... trying to think of something fun and interactive.... perhaps storytelling workshops or something like that. Anyways, I'm posting it here, just because maybe some of it applies to the non-medical world, just because I want you to know what I've been thinking about, just because.
Love,
S.
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and a letter from Patch Adams, borrowed shamelessly from the AMSA humanism in medicine webpage:
