Beautiful Ambiguity

The following is a short exert from a book I've been working on. The topic of it came up in conversation with a close friend of mine the other day and it made me feel brave enough to post it. I suppose it is just a generalized summary of my thoughts on relationships and human connection. I am well aware many people may not agree. Food for thought, I suppose.

"The inspiration for these stories doesn't come from wanting to share the lessons I've learned about men, or even advice about relationships. I think I'll always be hopeless. Not to be confused with a hopeless romantic; Daddy issues prevail and cynicism develops after enough tough love. But, despite the struggles and hurt I continuously allow myself to walk into, I always deem the experience worthwhile. The connections, the new emotions, the raw energy of fresh infatuation - and in some cases, love - can still be cherished and enjoyed beyond the resulting heartbreak. 

I think that's why I have not failed. (To some, my lack of permanent companionship may in itself be a failure. I think this is a judgement reserved for another's life.) No, I have not failed. I would not say I've succeeded either, but in my view, love and vulnerability is not something you can quantify to pass or fail. It is simply, what it is. To be experienced; to be appreciated; to confuse you; to amaze you; to silence you and to awaken you. It's not meant to affect everyone in the same way. 

A "goal" for love is like saying poetry has a quantifiable science in which it can be dissected and calculated. We can and do try to make our poems, our love, black and white equations, but the intentional meaning only ever belongs to the owner(s). And even then the author can find the meaning ambiguous to themselves: no one can ever define their poem... or their love. Maybe that's why over centuries poems still remain the best possible form to express love. Both ambiguous. Both beautiful."

The Meaning of Life: Screw Stability

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I really do not want to write about the age-old search for meaning in life, but it has been on my mind a lot these days. Not because I’m distraught about it, or feel the need to figure it out or find an answer, but because at the moment, the daily tasks that take up my time seem almost… shallow… and pointless. And, being the over-analytical, introspective young woman I am, I can’t help but wonder if there is really a point to any of it. Is it all just about the experience?

One of the many lovely aspects of traveling and working overseas is that you are able to dismiss any social pressure regarding the life you live. No one ever says anything bad about choosing to travel. And you can always justify your irresponsible actions by telling yourself that once you get home you can address all the mistakes you made, thus pretending your traveling lifestyle is essentially pressing pause on the life you have back home. This isn’t truth, yet I still haven’t kicked this mindset. Now that I am home, I feel I need to start being wholly responsible and addressing the goals and social expectations that I think I should meet in my life. But I don’t want to…

I don’t agree with most of these standards and goals that I let society inflict on me. I’m speaking of the desire to hold status, to be wealthy, to be stable, to respect the unwritten hierarchy, to use actions to create an outcome rather than let your genuine actions develop a natural outcome (thus, my Without Plan Without Fail motto). However, those are all topics for another blog. To be honest, I don’t agree with many of the North American social behaviours that I must abide by to participate in our culture. I think this officially makes me a misfit in my own home.

Therefore, all this recent talk (a.k.a., rambling bullshit) about what my current goals are in life regarding getting a career job, my own apartment and a dog feels quite shallow - because it isn’t really what I want to be doing. I’m interested in it all, but I essentially feel like I have just brainstormed a list of experiences I want to have that somehow compromises with our social/ cultural standards on how one should live their life just so I can justify my actions despite their lack of meaning. And then I realized that these things were essentially my way of not hating life while I kill time until I die… slightly depressing, no?

Being an individual who doesn’t have one particular passion that I want to devote my life to, or a massive goal that I really want to achieve in life, makes it difficult to decide what to do with myself. I’m interested in everything; I want to try everything; I want to experience as much as I can; I want to have as many different connections with people and places and things as I can during my short time on this planet. And I want to create good and peace in as many little ways possible. And if all those things combined is what motivates me to get out of bed everyday and puts a smile on my face, than I should be able to find meaning in almost any lifestyle I’m facing. And if that is truth, than I say, “screw stability!” My passions are taking me on a wild goose chase around the globe. Again. 

Simply Un-Identifiable

I’ve obviously taken another short hiatus from blog posting. While I blame the technical difficulties of having left my computer at my mother’s house, the truth stands that if I really wanted to, I’d still be writing them. This is apparently not the case.

I was well aware that the first three months moving back to Vancouver would be difficult. Financially, I’m rebuilding everything: an obvious challenge that I was confident in overcoming. The social aspect of rebuilding - and creating anew – friendships that are missing from a city I want to call home is hardly even a challenge for an outgoing lady such as myself. But still, loneliness after a break-up and not really having a comfortable shoulder to cry on beat me up a bit more than I expected.

Moreover, there has been one heavy, constant emotional challenge (after such an extended time away in different contexts) that has made adjusting to life in VanCity much more difficult than expected. This “difficulty” has convinced me that google-ing one-way flights to new countries at 2am is completely appropriate. And it keeps me from hanging pictures on the walls of my bedroom. And truly unfortunately, has kept me from allowing deep connections with the people whom I choose to spend my time with. And while this list appears to confirm commitment issues, I assure you that is not my problem.

The issue? Identity.

The first issue of identity is that for the last segment of my life I’ve connected with and accepted the traveler in me. It was not only how I viewed myself, but also how I perceived others viewing me. I had become a random mishmash of cultures and it was appropriate with the number of lifestyles I participated in while living overseas. It is hardly a label I place on my forehead, but for the purpose of answering “Who am I?” the answer “A traveler,” was always in reach. This is much the same as when I was a child and would answer “a dancer” or “a ballerina.” Later it became “student.” Shortly after that, my healthy and sporty lifestyle pulled me into an athletic mindset. Then, traveler.

After three and a half months back in Vancouver, my life is slowly piecing together. I have a job (albeit, not what I love to do, but it pays my bills and I love the people I see at work everyday, so I am forever grateful for the opportunity it provides.) I have a house to come home to (again, despite it’s rough appearance, it is filled with interesting, kind souls and a lot of hugs and laughs.) I’ve sorted out any financial woes, and have made enough friends to last a lifetime. It is all coming together, right? Right. But…

The second issue: I’m not a “traveler” anymore. I was a traveler. I was a ballerina. I was a student. I was a health freak. Now, I’m a waitress? A social butterfly? A too-frequent party-goer? I’m making this sound very cut and paste, like somehow I’m looking for something to call myself, but I assure you that is not the case. I’m not looking for a category to put myself into, nor have I ever. But I believe your surroundings and context and actions create you. And right now, my surroundings, context and actions don’t create a person I’m proud of. I’m not disappointing myself, but I know this is not how I want to develop my new identity in a place I’m building a home.

The third issue: being back in a city where I knew myself so well in one context, I naturally want to associate my identity with that old Miranda. But it just doesn’t fit anymore. That was before Africa and Cruise Ships and Islands in Australia and holidays in the Philippines. That was before engagements, and before Typhoid fever. That Miranda can’t exist anymore. I can’t be that naïve anymore.

I have no conclusion to this blog. There has been no ah-ha moment. And reality is, I know I’m not the only person to struggle in creating a new identity. I’m sure this is hard for new-mothers who don’t want to categorize themselves simply as “a Mom.” And I’m sure it’s just one symptom of reverse culture shock that many before me have gone through. And I’m sure that I’m just over-analyzing the #@% out of this because that’s what I like to do with my time.

Regardless, now I see that jumping on a one-way flight is simply my way of avoiding the search for myself here and is just chasing the old me (which now holds very little meaning.)

So, I guess I’ll stay a little longer and try a little harder. I’m quite interested to see how this all plays out. However, I make no promises. Dubai, Ireland, Myanmar and Japan are still whispering "Come visit" in my ear...

Life Is Easier When We Smile

I took a quick walk this evening over to the gas station to pick up a few things for my mother. Considering my recent sourness towards failing attempts to make my life go as I planned (shouldn't I know better by now?), I probably didn’t have a joyous holiday smile on my face. Regardless, I was my polite and friendly self greeting the attendant at the counter and left the station without letting my glum mood affect anyone else’s evening. But, oh, how the simplest things can erect happy feelings when you least expect it.

Upon leaving, the second attendant, a younger man who was servicing a car at the pump, decided to infect me with his outstanding positive mood. “Have a good night, eh?!” he recites to me in a very genuine, cheery, thick Canadian accent that is so indicative of my hometown region. He followed this with another simple and genuine statement that quite unexpectedly turned my week long morose around – “Life is so much easier when we smile.” This was simultaneous with a quick wink. My mother insists he was simply flirting, but however this attitude came to be, I am infinitely grateful.

http://www.thesmileepidemic.com/

Beyond the truth found in this man’s statement (whatever his hidden agenda may have been), his optimism for the simple do-good facial expression brought to mind a number of my long-forgotten ideas about how our attitudes affect our lives.

When I first arrived home from Ghana, I was obsessed with not letting my reverse culture shock tackle my gratitude for life. I remember having coffee with a mentor of sorts and conversing about gratitude. I was firm believer that my life was good and I was happy because I was so grateful for things around me. Being quick to play devil’s advocate, my experienced friend reminded me that I had a lot more to be grateful for than most people.

Years have passed since that conversation and my stringent mindset of life and gratitude has fluctuated constantly; most days since then I've been convinced my mentor was right in assuming my gratitude came from the wonderful gifts my life had handed to me. Now, I find myself realizing how spot on my 22 year old self actually was.

While dealing with the concerns and stresses that life is currently handing me is definitely unavoidable, recognizing the ability to be grateful for all the aspects life is offering me is much more important. Thanksgiving should not be the one sacred time of year we recite our appreciation; it should be every day. And not because we owe it to the world or God, but because we owe it to ourselves. Because being grateful means finding contentment in the life we have made for ourselves in the everyday bustle.

Thus...

I am grateful for the opportunity of peace and family connections I've been given for the holidays. And I am grateful for the opportunities of travel, career and friends that the past has always afforded me. 

And more than anything, I am grateful for the possibility of opportunities I have yet to discover.

And I’m grateful for a smile... and someone to remind me of them.

Life really is easier when we smile.

Hippies Unite!

So, I want to be a hippy.

Well, kind of. Not the pot smoking, unshaven, off-in-space, society-mooching hippy, but a modern day one.

I’ve fallen in love with the idea of having my own garden, so one day my kids will know how real, fresh, home-grown tomatoes taste. And I want to bake my own bread, because that way I know it is preservative free.

And I want to re-make old furniture and art so that my house looks modern and stylish without contributing to the world of commercialism and waste.

http://www.designmom.com/2010/06/project-repurpose/

I want to redesign old clothes that I treasure hunt for at thrift stores and consignment shops so I can still be “in-fashion” without spending an entire paycheck at Banana Republic or Guess.

But more than all the financially frugal benefits and the do-good-for-the-world mentality, I actually just want to make things with my own two hands. I’m sure many of you have heard of the “Ikea Effect” (if not, watch the video below.)

To some, it may sound ridiculous. Perhaps you are so caught up in a world where having more and measuring success by the price of the items you own can counteract your insecurity and need for meaning in life, but that’s just not the case for me.

While I would not turn away a $50 million lottery winning, I feel like all that money would take away part of the challenge, fun and learning in life. As though, being able to buy and do anything I want without having to earn it, build it, or create it could leave me feeling empty inside. The process and journey of achieving a goal and constructing the items I enjoy would completely disappear. Some may view it simply as having what you want while avoiding the frustration and stress that it takes to get it, but to me, that frustration and stress, the sweat, blood and tears, and the constant overcoming of an obstacle is what makes life exciting and meaningful. It’s what makes you appreciate what you have and be grateful for the gifts and opportunities that life presents to you.

Disagree? I’m sure you do! But I challenge you to be open-minded. Moreover, I challenge you to think about something you really want to buy. (Perhaps an item your were thinking about picking up this week – it could be a cake for a friend’s birthday party, a new chair for your desk, or maybe a picture frame for your family Christmas photo.) And then consider whether maybe this is an item you make or re-create. Find an interesting recipe online and have your grandmother help you bake the cake; or pick up an old chair from a scrap yard, sand it down and refurnish it; or perhaps take an old book  you’ve stuck in storage and get creative making a picture frame out of it! Just try something! If you do, and hate it, feel free to tell me how wrong I am. But I have a pretty strong intuition that you may just absolutely love it... and possibly find a new sense of meaning that doesn’t involve making more money.

Hippies Unite!