Struggling for Joy...trigger warning.

For the first time I'm really struggling to write a joy post. I'm not feeling it.  I'm not feeling like writing.  I'm not feeling joy.  I'm just really depressed.  Normally I live in anxiety (which seems to be my natural state of being) that keeps me fueled and moving but even that subsided and I was left with nothing but sadness, sorrow, depression.  I tend to have anxiety even when depressed...high functioning depression...which just keeps me pushing myself to perform, to work, to do, to live, to smile, to survive, despite how I might actually feel... ignoring how I feel so I can keep going.  Because I've never felt it was really a choice...I had to survive.  

It's been coming on slowly, this deep sorrow, like a balloon losing it's air...until this week when I just went flat. So I sat with not feeling joy...and therein is a joy of sorts, the joy of being my authentic self, although it really doesn't feel joyful.  

This past few weeks have been tough for multiple reasons I won't go into because it's not the point of the post.  I ended up just watching movies all day yesterday and trying to ignore social media with all the politics and religious drama that add to my depression.

The last movie I cried through the entire thing.  The Sea of Trees.  It felt like the culmination of a world of tears that is all I can see right now. It's about the very real place of what is known as the suicide forest in Japan. The Aokigahara Forest which is at the base of Mt. Fuji not too far from Tokyo, a place people make the trek to in order to end their life. Apparently it's the most popular suicide destination in the world with likely 100 or so people a year ending their lives there...sadly Japan has a very high suicide rate.  

The movie was actually about an unhappy couple.  The wife dies tragically and the husband can't go on without her, he realizes how much he loved her and is racked with guilt for not treating her better.  He reads about the forest and flies there to take his life and then meets another man who is there to take his life as well but who changes his mind and can't find his way out.  

It was a really sad movie but at the same time it was beautiful.  The forest was beautiful, their relationships were beautiful, both with his wife and this man...because they were real, full of love and hate and conflict...life is hard for everyone.  On that one common thread we can all relate.  The two men lost in the forest are able to share their deepest thoughts and connect with one another in their struggle and then they try to save each other and it all becomes about surviving and getting out.  I won't tell you the rest.  

It's dramatic and hard to watch, just like life, just like my life, just like my relationships...and probably like yours, too...because we are all so much alike despite our differences.  The metaphors in the movie were huge.  Life is like the suicide forest where we struggle to find our way, to survive, to find someone to relate to, to love, to love us, to be real with, to be accepted.  Then life becomes worth living and we want to keep moving forward because survival is more than just survival when we develop connections and heal and help each other.  And yet nothing is really ever solved because with every relationship and connection comes conflict and tragedy and sorrow also.  

I was left drained in every possible way after the movie.  And therein is my joy.  Life is full of it, full of joy and shit and everything in between.  Even in the darkest of places, like the Suicide Forest.  RIP to the sacred souls who give in to the struggle.  What a beautiful movie and tribute to this sacred space where so many laid their sorrows to rest.  I am in awe.  Joy engulfs me despite the depth of sorrow existing in the world, because they really can exist at exactly the same time.

The Joy of Diverse Books and my Ode to James Baldwin

Last year was a campaign to bring more diverse books to children and this year there is a 2016 Diverse Books Reading Challenge. It reminded me of one of my courses in my masters program for English several years ago which focused on the problem in education when so many of the books are predominantly white authors/white characters and the effect of that on minorities when kids can't relate to what they are learning and reading about.  They tend to lag behind from the get go, giving whites the unfair advantage in this country.  It made me look at education quite differently, as well as the plight of a variety of marginalized members of our community.


In another class I studied and wrote a paper about the black, gay novelist and civil rights activist from the 1960's, James Baldwin.  He rocked my world. He opened my eyes about racism and homophobia in America. It was beyond disturbing...and inspiring. The way he handled the poverty, racism, and homophobia left me in awe as well sickened me by the amount of hate inflicted on our brothers and sisters in this world...he was a great example of the pen being more powerful than the sword.  He was a great teacher to me and I fell a little bit in love with him as I studied his life and writings.  A documentary called "I am Not Your Negro" is coming out soon, I can't wait to see it.  At a time when racism seems to be spotlighted in our nation yet again, it's good timing.  Or maybe we are being forced to face what is an ongoing haunting problem in our nation, James Baldwin stated:

"Not everything that is faced can be changed, 

but nothing can be changed until it is faced."  

He is a beautiful human being.  Another one of my favorite Baldwin quotes:

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without 

and know we cannot live within."

James Baldwin - On Being Poor, Black, and Gay

Recently I read an article about how reading literary fiction helps us gain empathy:

Good news for bookworms: Reading novels boosts your empathy

I can only say YES YES YES...and when we add to our reading list minority and marginalized authors our empathy can only grow as we learn of the human experience through the eyes of those that live a far different experience in this life than we do.   I've been touched deeply by the authors outside my own sheltered American white world and admire this reader that committed to reading only minority authors for an entire year! 

I read books by only minority authors for a year. It showed me just how white our reading world is.

A loft goal!  It reminded me of a few of my favorite books by minority authors and makes me realize I need to make an effort to read a lot more:

James Baldwin - Collected Essays

So Long a Letter

The Compassionate Life

The Prophet

The Alchemist

The Faith Club

Fear

I am Malala

Far From the Tree

The Four Agreements and The Fifth Agreement

Because I believe in supporting this movement:  FIVE REASONS TO READ DIVERSE BOOKS

Brave Happy Joy

Ally McBeal was a one of my favorite TV shows about 15 years ago...I remember very little about why I loved the show but I remember this:  Ally McBeal had a theme song for her life and I wanted one too (hers was accompanied by a crazy ghost baby...that part I definitely don't want).  I related to her goofiness, lack of confidence, desire to prove her worth, her fight to be authentic, slightly neurotic, OCD and paranoid personality with a fear of almost everything, and yet determination to do it all anyway. She was wildly popular so I can only assume these are universal feelings of women (or possibly humans in general).

Since then I have gathered my own 'go to' theme songs that I need to pump me up when needed, mostly to be brave when I'm scared out of my wits, which is more often than I care to admit.  I had a day last week that I had to show up and be brave, declare my worth, and do it with confidence and enthusiasm, basically be a cheerleader for myself, no one else could do it...that's a lot to ask of an introvert.

I started the day with my favorite TED Talk by Amy Cuddy Your Body Language Shapes Who You Are and then moved on to hula hooping to some of my favorite brave woman songs:

I Am Woman by Helen Ready, one of the most influential women of her time.  She was my mentor as a child, even though I didn't know what a mentor was, I listened to her record over and over while dancing my little heart out.  Where is she now?  Still a great mentor, I love her perspective and way of living now: Helen Ready Today

Brave by Sarah Bareilles, you have to watch the video for the full impact...my favorite lines which always makes me cry:



I Will Survive, literally this song kept me going through my divorce, I sang it ALL.THE.TIME...and I did survive!  It still works...I still sing it...I'm still surviving.

Bad Romance Woman's Suffrage by Lady Gaga, again the video needs to be watched for the full impact...gives me goosebumps to remember what women have been through to give me the right to vote, work, own property, be paid equally and numberless other rights we have today...and yes, even today we still fight for equality.  This song has really been helpful to me this past few weeks as I negotiated for myself...not an easy thing for me to do.  My hubby gave me this shirt a few years ago to help me psych myself into the empowerment that I needed in my life...I wore it at my girls retreat last week as I prepared my mind and heart for being a brave woman who fights for herself when I got home, FEMINIST as FUCK, yep I am.  I appreciate my hubby's constant support of my life in his own goofy way. The video about this song being made is also worth the watch Behind the Scenes .  Would I have been brave enough to fight alongside these brave women not that long ago?



Happy by Pharrell Williams  Because at the end of the day, being happy is important and whatever happens happens, so just try to be happy and enjoy what you have in life.  This song just helps me relax about all the stuff I fret about.  I love this slideshow of the CSUSM graduating class if 2014 with the song.  It's a great reminder of the difference in my life because I did go back to school and get a degree (it only took me 25 years to finish), it really helped my career and my confidence, post divorce.  My favorite VIP is also in it, he hired me in my last two positions (and is now Provost) which has had a huge impact on my life and career...I will always feel great appreciation for the hand he's played in my life...he's also just an all around great guy, boss and mentor (reminds me a lot of my dad who I miss a lot).  He's in the red graduation gown at 1:09 and 2:28.

However, after all this pumping up, empowering and gratitude, I was sobbing like a baby and went through the day with crying eyes...but they were good crying eyes and I did what I needed to do, I was BRAVE, which made me HAPPY, and I felt JOY.

The Joy of Unplugging...and plugging back in

I spent the last few days at my grandparents cabin in Silver Gate, Montana, just outside the North-east end of Yellowstone National Park, unplugging from technology. It's a forced unplugging since there is no WIFI/Internet/phone service to the cabin (just this year they added a land line for emergency use).  It's a relaxing time to chat, play games, read, create and enjoy nature.

I met up with my sister and three of my cousins, ranging from early to late fifties, a span of years that seemed huge as children and now, nothing at all.  We are the five living daughters (two sadly have passed on, way too young) of four sisters from a little town in Montana. Our lives are spread from Utah to Montana to Wisconsin to California...almost reaching each border of the United States. We can credit Facebook for connecting us as adults.

We share a family and religious history but only recently began sharing our current lives and wide spectrum of life experience and circumstances.  Being plugged into Facebook gave us the chance to connect to each other and being unplugged at the family cabin gave us a chance to delve deeper into that connection.  Of course, various points in location in and out of Yellowstone Park allowed us to plug back into our own lives and family for short spurts.  There is joy in both the unplugging and plugging into technology...each a gift the other cannot give...balance is the key.  It was a wonderful trip and I hope we can look forward to deeper connection in the future.



Some of my favorite moments at 'Cousin Camp' in no particular order:

• Walking to the waterfall from the cabin, just as we did as children.
• Playing Cowgirls Ride the Trail of Truth and Mormanity.
• Sitting in the Yellowstone "Boiling River".
• Evening Concert while sitting in Bozeman Hot Springs as well as Chico Hot Springs on a cold day.
• Learning to rock hunt and find agates and petrified wood.
• Eating Grandma Anderson's traditional Swedish pancakes. 
• Watching a little osprey family nesting.
• Lots of good food, chatting, hiking and relaxing.
• Discussing Carol Lynn Pearson's new book "The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy" that my author. cousin, Carole Thayne Warburton, thoughtfully got me an autographed copy of because I submitted my own story during Carol Lynn's research for the book (along with 8,000 others).
• Finding sapphires in a pile of rocks at Fancy's in Livingston, Montana.
• Taking fabulous Wonder Woman photo shoots. 
• Watching the antelope play, bison roam and elk standing stoically, I didn't get to see a bear but some of our group did.
• Enjoying time with my sister that even though we live pretty close, we don't get much of.
• Being my own goofy authentic self among a group of fabulous women.

The Joy (and sorrow) of Stories

I have been filling up with stories this week.  Last weekend we went to The Museum of Tolerance and listened to a holocaust survivor's witness testimony, an emotional, disturbing, and fascinating lecture.  What an important work to find these stories and document and save them.  This man didn't consider himself a survivor since he didn't have numbers on his arm and wasn't in a concentration camp.  But he was a baby in hiding, spent the first few years of his life in a 200 square foot basement with 5 other people, 24/7, starvation, abuse, boredom...physical and emotional scars to last a lifetime.  He became a pediatric psychiatrist...no doubt wanting to integrate his experience and find healing to deep wounds.  It was the wife of a German soldier that housed them, all under her husband's nose, he never knew.  That's courage...and compassion.  

What would we do without the stories of our lives to share with each other and understand our own?  The letters, journals, newspapers, all so important to putting the pieces of the puzzle together.



I loved these walls made of clothing as a memorial to the clothes the victims lost as they went to concentration camps, and the clothes they were given when they got there...so much color lost and replaced with drab black and white stripes...just like their lives, stripped of color and joy.  How could this happen?  What does this say about us as human beings that we can be so indoctrinated to harm other human beings?  What have we learned from it?  Why is it still happening today?













This week it's been Feminist Mormon Housewive's Year of Polygamy, I can't get enough of it...these are my people, the Mormons, I have polygamist ancestors, I was raised Mormon, the majority of my family are practicing Mormons. There are a lot of them (episodes...and Mormon stories) so I have lots of commuting to listen to more stories but was absolutely stricken by the final episode today (do I ever do anything in order?).  Lindsay does an amazing work with these stories, her research, her essays and her interviews.  I look forward to listening to many more.  How can we better appreciate the experiences they went through than listening to their stories, acknowledging their joy, pain, and experiences...being witnesses to their existence?  Maybe it will help me understand my own Mormon history, my own Mormon experience.  It feels especially personal since it has affected me through spiritual polygamy, something that is actively practiced in mainstream Mormonism today.  I love this author, her latest book is about just this topic. When she requested stories for her research I sent my own...along with 8000 others. There are many still being affected deeply by this issue.

One of the faculty at my university did research on Chinese immigrants.  A comprehensive journal was found that a man kept daily during one of the most persecuted times for early Chinese immigrants.  He never wrote about it.  He wrote about his daily activities, his family, his goals.  Her research was to analyze the data and with other researchers put it in context, understand what it means to keep a history and not write about the persecution he undoubtedly faced within his group...did he personally not experience it?  Did he not want to focus on it?  What does it mean when we include or exclude parts of our stories?  It reminded me of some of my own sordid periods of my life, I rarely wrote about the details or the abuses I felt...why?  I'm not even sure.  It was usually too overwhelming...the experience was more than I could bear and it was too hard to understand so impossible to write.  Sometimes it would take many years before I could go back and analyze it, try and understand it.  I have no doubt I will be doing this for the rest of my life with things that have happened to me and my children. Maybe that was similar for him?

What about my story...or yours?  What are we leaving behind, what will people know about us?  It's my goal to be real, to write my real truth, my views and perspectives...they matter, they all matter. Maybe not today or tomorrow but someday to someone, maybe they will.  All I can do is leave it behind, all that I have to give is my story.

Joy of Synchronicity and Memories

syn·chro·nic·i·ty

ˌsiNGkrəˈnisədē/

noun

1. 1.

   the simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

The joy of memories and the joy of synchronicity should probably be two different posts but today I enjoyed both and wanted to share.

I woke up this morning and remembered it is my oldest brother's birthday today.  He passed away several years ago, way too young, he would have been 56 today.  I still think of him often.  As I was leaving the house for work I looked at my phone to see if I was running late (I was), my phone showed 8:18 on 8/18, I sort of froze and felt like my brother was reminding me it's his day and he was saying hello.  Of course, I said, "Hello!" 

I thought of him throughout the morning, little memories of going to art films with him and his friends, the cool teenagers with the dorky little sister, I felt so grateful when they included me.  The bruise on my arm where he enjoyed socking me for no reason when he passed me by...brotherly love.  Him teaching me to drive, and making me listen to a long lecture of how the car works (I wasn't interested).  Taking me on my first hike to bathtub rock, his secret surf spot and talking about relationships and philosophy. Laying on the beach with his new baby daughter on my tummy keeping her quiet while her parents enjoyed some time in the ocean.  Standing outside the temple with him at my other brother's wedding, feeling a bit like the shunned side of the family.  Him sending me $500 for no reason, with no expectation or explanation, during a particularly difficult time in my life with four little kids. Going to an Elvis Costello concert in LA as adults.  

We didn't stay in close touch over the years, we had a large distance between us and not that much in common in our busy lives, so it was fun when he invited us out of the blue to do something or showed up for a rare camping or fishing trip in northern California and, of course, we almost always saw him at Christmas at the Park City traditional family ski vacation. It wasn't until shortly before he passed that I learned of his love of writing (one of many of his artistic and musical pursuits), a passion we shared and the screen play he was toiling over, I loved hearing his ideas.  In fact, that is where I last saw him, in Park City where we talked about his screen play.  He wasn't a big hugger, but he was preparing to leave Park City so I went outside to say my good byes and he was already in the car.  He got out of the car and gave me a big hug.  It seemed unusual at the time but I appreciated it. Even more so when he passed just a few months later and that was my last memory of him. After his passing I was thrilled to see all the writing he did over the years, packed in boxes...much like my own.  Kindred spirits?

A co-worker invited me to lunch today and several tables near us had this incredible looking dessert along with birthday balloons and presents (seriously, was it everyone's birthday today?) and I asked what it was...this incredible looking dessert...the waitress said it was a special birthday "messy sundae", and then winked and asked if it was a birthday today? I, of course said, yes, actually it is.  So we had free messy birthday sundae to celebrate this special day with my brother.  It was a melting pot of memories and synchronicity today.

I texted my mom to say "Happy Birthday to John" since I knew she would appreciate remembering his day, too. Mom shared with me this song from the musical Hamilton that makes her think of my brother and father who passed away, way too young.  I had never heard it but really appreciated the lyrics, especially these lines...which speak for themselves:

Let me tell you what I wish I'd known

When I was young and dreamed of glory

You have no control:

Who lives

Who dies

Who tells your story?

And when my time is up

Have I done enough?

Will they tell my story?

I googled my brother, looking for a picture because I have a hard time keeping track of the most basic things and, of course, google has everything within a click...up pops the blog my mom created to remember him (made from the blog he created).  It's one story of many stories that are left behind about him.  He did so many amazing things in his short time on earth.  I remember being overwhelmed when I had heard of his death, why him?  He had so much to offer, give and enjoy in the world...I would have rather gone in his place, life felt like such a struggle for me at the time.  His passing also made me want to live my life differently, more like his, more travels, more experiences, more reading, more writing, more knowledge, more of everything that I never seemed to have time for.  It became my life pursuit...time for joy...and here we are in my blog this year, all about living a life of joy.  I'm glad John could be a part of it.

Thank you, John, thank you for stopping in to say hello today, for reminding me of some precious memories, and especially for the reminder to just enjoy this life and create my own stories worthy of telling when my time is up.

John Hardy

The Joy of Secrets

About 10 years ago I found the book Post Secrets and fell in love with reading the truths we never tell...or at least that may take many years to have the courage to tell.  The author has an interesting story about how his first book came about here:  http://www.postsecretcommunity.com/news-faq/postsecret-story

It's a fascinating project because it is interactive, creative, and therapeutic...for both the writer of the secret and the reader.  The truth within these little gems is powerful. You laugh, you cry, you feel, you relate, you think.  Everything that is good for you all wrapped up in this little project.  And it's a huge success...because we all love secrets...we need to tell them, we want to hear them...we want to know we are normal even within our own secrets we may never tell.

Need a pick me up?  A laugh?  Or company in your misery?

Try PostSecret.Com

The author has also done amazingly positive work with his project:

Frank Warren started PostSecret as a community art project where he invited total strangers to anonymously mail in their deepest secrets on a homemade postcard. The response was overwhelming with Frank receiving over 1,000,000 anonymous postcards and counting. 

All six PostSecret books have been on the New York Times Best Seller List. PostSecret Confessions on Life Death and God reached #1.

PostSecret.com has won three Webby Awards for "Best Blog on the Internet" and is today the most visited advertisement-free blog in the world with nearly 700,000,000 "visits".

The project has raised over $1,000,000 for suicide prevention and Frank Warren was awarded the Mental Health Advocacy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2011 and was invited to the White House to share his thoughts on mental wellness in 2013. His TED talk is one of the most watch with over 2,500,000:

Frank Warren: Half a million secrets

The postcards have been exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in New York and the Visionary Art Museum in Maryland and there is a PostSecret album and play. 

Frank lives in Germantown, Maryland, with his wife and daughter, and dog, Shadow (but his wife wants to move to California).