Planning a trip to Washington, D.C. can be a complicated endeavor, especially when 56 students from 12 different countries are involved.
County Clare, Ireland – Wednesday, September 2010
“I won’t be giving you a ride deary, but I’m happy to give you a lift!” I blushed, immediately realizing what I had just said to the older gentleman bus driver. He was about 5’5 with sparkling blue eyes and wirey gray hair. He had a sharp twinkle in his eye. The passengers of the Galway Tours bus made their way back onto the bus we stood before, the wind was just picking up around the famous Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, Ireland.
I was lucky enough to see a very inspiring man speak last year at a conference, you may remember – I talk about it HERE . “Normal?” He pleaded, “who wants to be normal?” His presentation began with a slide picturing three upside-down bats. “Look outside the box, what do hanging bats look like if you flip over the picture?” “They look like some saucy vampire dance scene set in New York City.” The man giving the presentation was Seth Godin.
“Show up different, treat different people differently, you will get a different response,” he emphasized. Continue reading
One sunny Thursday a few weeks ago Brent called me, just as I was heading into the office. “So… EBR shut down, for good,” he said. I could hear the uncertainty on his lips, as if the impossible had just come crashing around him. His dream job had disappeared out from under his feet, over night.
From the passenger seat I watched the front right tire of the jeep roll up, and twist over a big rock in the trail. In the shiny, black metal I could see the reflected red hued mountains in the distance along the desert trail, wrapped up in the endless, clear blue sky above. Our friends followed along in an older little vehicle, their windows down, in awe at the Jeep crawling over the rocks, flexing and bending over the washed out parts of the road. It would go anywhere. It also made a big spectacle of everything it went over, a nimble black widow scampering across its web on long, nimble legs. Their little vehicle, sporting brand new little tires lightly rolled right over the same obstacle with much less of a show. The wind whistled between the cactus spines along the trail before us.
I watched Sedona’s brightly colored figure dance across the alfalfa fields towards home, a fully saddled and bridled, without me. The lyrics to the songs”Ready to Run”, and “Cowgirls Don’t Cry” flooded my brain.
I am the “zen” one. I have an amazing ability to be calm and relaxed when the world is crashing around me. Sometimes it might seem like I’m always calm and worry free. But that is not always the case, I do have worries and struggles, I just don’t let anyone on to them, it shouldn’t be their worry. But I worry about money, a lot. I think a lot of Americans do.
Sometimes I feel that I left my voice in graduate school. Perhaps I left it behind when I learned the German language. I wouldn’t say that I found my voice on my blog, though. My voice was found through four years of school in creative writing classes, and studying abroad in Germany where professors were not shy is saying, “no… that doesn’t work,” or “no, that doesn’t make sense.” A seemingly forbidden saying here in the United States because we so often dance around student’s feelings.
It’s been just over a year since Connie died; my first horse, the horse of my dreams, my childhood horse. I felt like shunning horses away forever; something inside of me died. That was until this last July.
The start of Fall in the desert found two new creatures in my life; two baby dairy goats. Why did you get goats? They ask. For years I’ve wanted a dairy cow, a Jersey cow of my own so I could drink milk from my own cow. I have since realized what a large investment that is, and how impractical that would be for my current lifestyle. A dairy cow is for a family.