Coming Out: It's a Journey, Not a Decision

On National Coming Out Day, I find myself thinking about all the ways I came out over the years and all the ways I will come out for the rest of my life as I meet new people. Coming out never just starts and stops. It took me years to come out to the first person I ever told and I know I have the rest of my life ahead of me with various forms of coming out to do. I can picture having to come out to new friends, coworkers, players, our children, etc. While I may not be explicitly telling new people in my life that I am gay, the mere mention of my wife for the first time to someone who does not know me is, in a way, coming out. 

Many of my coming out "strategies" were subtle, but some were overt. Some of these approaches were full of shame and some were full of pride. Sometimes people found out unintentionally, while others found out only after I agonized over how to tell them for months. Some of the ways I told people turned into joyous occasions and some were terribly painful. The first person I ever told was my best guy friend from high school. I was sitting at my desk in the fall of my freshman year of college (2003) and sent him an AIM instant message telling him I was gay and then abruptly signed off. I didn’t want to read his reaction, which, as I should have expected, was a perfect mix of "who cares" and "I support and love you." I remember agonizing over telling my college field hockey team. I didn’t want them to look at me differently or act differently towards me. I started by telling a few close friends on the team and eventually everyone on the team knew. They were then and still are the best. 

I remember telling people through notes and letters to avoid seeing their reaction. I remember holding a girl’s hand at a party when I wasn’t really out to many people yet in hopes that everyone would just draw their own conclusions and move on. I remember one of the first people I told face to face was my sister. I’m always grateful to her for being that person for me. I told my mom in the summer of 2004 right before appendix surgery (while I was under the influence of Demerol, a pain killer that the nurse nicknamed “truth serum"). Whether or not that truth serum thing was true, it seemed to effect my subconscious, because when I woke up from surgery, I learned that I had told my mom I was gay. Seeing as I was bedridden in that moment, I confirmed to my mom that indeed I was gay and I sat there as she held back tears. She was upset. She was scared that I would have a difficult life. She didn't want people to be mean to me. She didn't want me to miss out on all of the wonderful things like marriage and kids. Those were her fears and that was her sadness for me at the time. I was scared to tell my dad and asked my mom not to tell him yet. She agreed, but, if you know my mom, you know she had probably already told him. When I found out he knew, I stood in the kitchen looking down the hallway to the den and said, "So, you know?" I was greeted with a warm and sincere smile and an, "I've known for years." 

I had no idea how to tell my quietly homophobic brother who was visiting from out of town. I decided to bring him to my workplace, MassEquality, a non-profit that was fighting for marriage equality at the time (2005). He didn’t put two and two together as I had hoped and had instead had some choice words for my chosen place of employment. On the drive home, I was crushed and mad. While this experience was painful, I also knew it was a terrible attempt on my part at telling him my truth. He left to go back home soon after and we never spoke about it. Eventually, after we gave each other the space and time we both needed, we talked about it, a lot. Years later, he proudly stood right by my side on my wedding day and we are closer than ever. 

I also have a lot of misplaced and disjointed memories that I think about. I can't always remember where it was or when it was, but I vividly remember the words and facial expressions of people's immediate reactions including things like, “Obviously!” with a big smile, “Please don’t cut your hair!”, “Are you going to march in all those parades now?”, "When did you know?", and my favorite, awkward silence. What I didn't expect upon telling people was that they may feel pain. Some people were hurt that I had waited so long to tell them or took real offense that I was afraid to tell them in person. Some people felt betrayed and like they didn't even know me at all. I had a hard time reckoning all of those feelings honestly. I was so wrapped up in my own pain, shame and now growing excitement and liberation that I couldn't adequately access what their pain was all about. 

What many people don't explicitly see with a coming out story are often the years, months and days of turmoil leading up to those decisions. I had felt something about me was different for years. If I had really let myself explore that feeling, I probably would have started processing all of my feelings better, but I was afraid. I really, really did not want to be different. I truly believe that compartmentalizing those feelings back then took a toll on me. I had anger issues, struggles with depression and loneliness, and other feelings that I now see clearly as mental health issues during high school and early on in college. I really, really struggled. But, as they say, it got better, a lot better.

In November of 2006, I met the love of my life. She challenges me, respects me, listens to me, loves me unconditionally and makes me a better person every day. I am so grateful and thankful for this life and this love. I truly could not ask for anything more. She helps me continue to navigate this life when it starts to feel a bit tricky. She reminds me who I am when I'm not feeling like myself. She helps me access my feelings, explore them and embrace them. I think what we have both learned on our respective journeys is that the only way to be truly accepted is to first accept yourself, your unapologetic, authentic self. The love you have for yourself will open you up to an even greater love; it's out there, be open to it and be ready for it. Love is love.

Neverending Dream

Is achieving your dream life's greatest individual goal? Your dream might be a husband, two kids, a white picket fence and a dog named Sparky.  Your dream might revolve around the number of digits in your paycheck or the number of houses with your name on the mortgage.  Your dream might look like smiling faces of kids in your classroom or spending each day outside in the natural world and calling it "work."  Whatever your dream is, can you ever really achieve it? Is the journey ever really over or does the "dream" continue to transform, grow and stay at arm's length?

My "dream" has always had many layers.  When I was younger I wanted to be a marine biologist, a professional athlete (the first woman in the NBA), a doctor, a non-profit CEO, a high school English teacher, a college professor, and a writer among many other occupations. As an "adult" I set my sights on becoming a college field hockey coach although somewhere inside me still lives the writer, philanthropist and teacher. Many of my earlier occupation dreams crossed themselves off the list as I grew up. I would never become a marine biologist because I realized I was creeped out by "deep water". I would get anxious and sometimes still do when I jump off the "back" of the raft at my grandparents' house on Lake Winnipesaukee (the water is probably 8 feet deep). I was an above average athlete at an average high school, whic made me an average college athlete like thousands of other former "above average" high school athletes. I fainted at the sight of blood and closed my eyes at gory sights in movies and on TV.  I tried working in a cubicle at arguably one of the coolest workplaces in Massachusetts, but I could not stay boxed in.  I am not a CEO of a non-profit organization nor do I aspire to be, but I do volunteer at the local food pantry and constantly try to stay invovled in the community. I am not a high school English teacher, but I still toy with the idea of being an English tutor. I also find myself editing friends' papers and grad school applications as well as helping to creat resumes and cover letters. Currently, these blog posts are the extent of my creative writing outlet at the moment, but I still have high hopes for myself in this area. I have my Master's Degree and often I think about being an adjunt professor in Introduction to Writing or some other etnery level, core literature class at a local community college. What I am is a college field hockey coach. So why, when I seemingly have every opportunity at my fingertips and almost everything I have worked towards during the last 5 years, do I still feel the pull of a different reality, a similar dream, but a different, unreachable one?

 

 

A quick Google search of Satisfaction states that satisfaction is, "The fulfillment or gratification of a desire, need, or appetite." Why am I not satisfied? Is it because I am a coach who instills in her players that they should never be satisfied. Never settle or become complacent. Always work towards a bigger goal. You are capable of more than you think and you should strive for it. These are all things I tell my players over and over again. My coaches told me the same things. Does anyone out there feel satisfied? Should we?

 

 

 

Right now, I picture a small, fluffy, adorable, albeit brainless hamster running as fast as he or she can on a never ending wheel set up inside my brain. The faster the hampster runs the more tired it will get. However, its quicnkess and determination will not affect its progress. Are lateral moves or promotions just part of a bigger spinning wheel that humans continue to run on at varying speeds and effort levels? There are people in the world that are satisified. Have these people grown complacent or have they found a way to beat the cylcical pattern that is duty, happiness and lifestyle?

 

 

As I ponder the future, I can only hope that my ambition will one day be tempered with a fullfilling sense of satisfaction with the things I have accomplished and continue to accomplish on a daily basis. Until then, I will join hundreds of thousands of others who try to outrun the wheel each day and hopefully, more often than not, I might hop off the wheel, take a deep, satisfactory breath and take it all in.

 

STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES

 

 

While I have not read this yet, it came highly recommended from a fellow coach:

 

That's Outside My Boat: Letting Go of What You Can't Control by Charlie Jones and Kim Doren

 

 

 

Song/Video:

 

Van Morrison - Days Like This

 

 

 



Our most basic instinct is for FAMILY.

One of my favorite quotes of all time is one that reflects the innermost soul of any human being, which is the need for family. As I continue to age and experience the complexities, joys, heartaches and overall unexpected nature of "family" relationships, I feel my need (not to be confused with an equally strong desire) for family intensifies and grows immeasurably. 

"Our most basic instinct is not for survival, but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted." ~Dr. Paul Pearshall (http://www.paulpearsall.com/info/about.html)

The past 18 months have been filled with many family challenges that have  both directly and indirectly affected me. However, through it all, a burning desire to strengthen the bonds I have with my nuclear family, extended family and "in-laws" continues to grow.

In the face of adversity, I saw my mother rise to the challenge both physically and mentally. Her strength, courage and resilience inspired me then, and will stay with me forever. Although I do not think she will ever understand her own strength and worth, I will never question it or take it for granted.

During this same time period, I was blessed to witness  the power of innocence. The birth of my first niece was therapeutic. Her arrival into the family came at the perfect moment and she seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle. She was a vision of hope and strength for everyone, but especially for her Nana.

 

This was not the only trying time for the matriarch of the family during the past 18 months. As a family, we once again came together in support of the woman that has always supported us. During those difficult weeks, previously dormant bonds came alive and notoriously thin bonds grew thicker. Communication opened doors to places that were painful, but also necessary for everyone to be able to share their unconditional love for each other. Relationships were also put to the test and those relationships emerged with a renewed strength and spirit. .

More recently, I witnessed a family, one that I consider my own, deal with the struggle of coming to terms with one of life's most complex moments - death. The death of a family member is always tragic, but it can sometimes be even more difficult when the relationships between survivors and the deceased are nothing short of complicated. Those who had relationships with the man faced a volatile mixture of love, regret, disappointment, anger, sadness and an unbearable weight of those things left unsaid. I watched as this family's mixed emotions took hold of otherwise dazed and dormant bodies and minds. There was laughter at old videos, nostalgia at sepia toned photographs and tears for all that was and was not. When the bugle sounded it's final note of Taps and the American flag was meticulously folded and presented to the family, my heart filled with emotion for the life of a man that never knew what he truly had, and for the family he left behind.  That family will be left to live amongst the memories, hopes and failed reconciliations and strive to find peace amongst it all.
 

Presently, the organic nature of life continues, as it always will, in constant motion. Life does not wait for you to be ready and it does not provide any time-outs. The motion of life inherently makes memories and moments fleeting. There is worth and warmth to past memories, but it is in the present struggles and joys that life is happening all around us. The bonds we make in our lives can become impenetrable. During the past two weeks, I was able to celebrate the organic life in the moments I shared with my family. I soaked it all in as a means of filling myself with their love and life to sustain my need for family while we are apart.

I come back to Dr. Paul Pearshall's words, "Our most basic instinct is not for survival, but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted." The single most tragic mistake one can make is taking one's family for granted.

Although life often keeps us away from loved ones for longer than we all would like, we alone are in control of how we stay togehter when we are a part. In 2006, I chose to get my first and only tattoo so far. I chose to have the word "Ubuntu" permanently inked onto my skin because it is a constant reminder to me to simply be a good human.

“Ubuntu [...] speaks of the very essence of being human. [We] say [...] "Hey, so-and-so has ubuntu." Then you are generous, you are hospitable, you are friendly and caring and compassionate. You share what you have. It is to say, "My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours." We belong in a bundle of life. We say, "A person is a person through other persons. [...] A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, affirming of others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.” - Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Embrace the bonds. Live the pain. Celebrate the joy. Make it yours, all of it.

 

Erin, following in Nana's footsteps.

 

Movie night with her boys.

 

 

Love at first sight, second sight, third sight....

 

 

Living in the moment.

 

 

Papa and his first grandchild sharing in a family pastime.

 

 

 

Sometimes you have to take a day off from work and spend time with the person you love.

 

 

Mid week ski day with my sister and favorite boys (Dad and Jim included). Me and Ryan getting ready to hit the slopes.

A true member of the King family - Sean on skis by age 4 : )

 



Quality time on the chairlift with my little big man.

 

 

"Mom, I was playing and I stopped because I was thinking about Nana. I bet she is thinking about me too." - Sean

 

 

Smiles all around. Papa is a year older and thrilled about it.

 

 

Growing up and growing closer.

 

 

Happy Birthday!!!

 

 

 

 

 

"What day is it?"
"It's today," squeaked Piglet.
"My favorite day," said Pooh.” 

- A. A. Milne




The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

 

 

 

 

 

Eric Clapton - "See What Love Can Do"

 

 

 

The Orange River

The beginning of a longer piece...orginally written in 2006, edited throughout 2007 and then reworked/rewrote in the summer of 2012.
___________________________________________________________________________

The ancient air conditioner sputtered and rumbled in the window, working far too hard to produce such little relief.  The room was still stifling hot, but Jo remained covered by the tangled sheet.  Without looking at me she whispered something that was lost in the gurgling of the artificial air.  She reached out and clicked off the air conditioner.  The room was oppressively silent and she spoke in the same whisper, this time looking me directly in the eyes.

“Come to Nairobi.”

I guffawed and almost immediately regretted my reaction as I sensed her shrink away from me. 

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.” She responded icily.

She was right.  In all honesty, I had considered Nairobi, both fleetingly and longingly, but never seriously.  Kenya?  Now?  Only five months before this I had boarded a plane to Cape Town, South Africa for a four month study abroad semester.  Five weeks ago I stood in the American Consulate in Cape Town attempting to extend my student travel visa for the rest of the summer.  Throughout it all, there was always an end date – June 19, my program ended; June 31, my visa expired; August 30, my new extended visa expired.  I was living a temporary fantasy.  But in her simple statement, Jo had challenged the temporary nature of my journey. 

Jo and I met three weeks ago, three very short and immensely long weeks ago in the Gruner Kanz hotel in Swakopmund, Namibia. 

That meeting almost never happened.  The bad luck and good luck I encountered to get me to the lounge of the Gruner Kanz made this whole thing even more unbelievable.  If I believed in fate, I would be struck by the profound butterfly effect this entire experience hinged upon.  Twenty-five days ago, my study abroad housemate Emily and I boarded a South African Airlines plane bound for Windhoek, Namibia.  Emily and I shared an adjoining room in a former bed and breakfast in Mowbray, a sub-section of Cape Town at the foot of Devil’s Peak where the University jutted out from its side.  Our study abroad program had bought the former bed and breakfast to set up as a housing unit for students.  There were twelve rooms in the house, a large kitchen and living area with a first floor patio and multiple balconies on the second floor facing Devil’s Peak.  The entire house was surrounded by a seven foot concrete wall topped with a foot of razor sharp curled barbed wire.  The windows of the home, although within the fortress walls were all adhered with white steel bars.  Bars and walls were hard to get used to at first. 

Both Emily and I grew up in New England.  Emily was a self-proclaimed hick from a rural section of New Hampshire.  Her family owned a farm and she just found out her sixteen year old sister was pregnant and subsequently engaged.  Her brother was active in the regional high school’s 4H club, "hicks, hillbillies, horses and hens."  I, on the other hand, grew up in a cookie cutter suburb close enough to travel into Boston by subway, but far enough away to feel like you’ve got some space to stretch your arms and legs.  Emily and I hit it off instantly.  She was a no maintenance, no bullshit kind of person always looking to seize the moment.  I was simply looking for adventure.  I could tell you all about our wild and crazy experiences in Cape Town because there were many, but this story is not so much about my adventures with Emily. 

After our semester at the University of Cape Town ended, Emily and I decided to extend our visas and join an 18 day trek down the western coast of southern Africa.  We signed up for the tour online and received an email saying we were to meet the Tours of Africa caravan in Swakopmund, Namibia (330 mile drive from Windhoek) on July 4, which was now only 48 hours away.  The Tours of Africa website was filled with pictures of smiling tourists on safari’s, riding ostriches, hiking mountains and making unforgettable memories.  The tour Emily and I were joining originated in Nairobi, Kenya nine weeks ago and ended its adventure in Cape Town on July 22.  Emily and I had no idea what to expect from this trip, but if we had learned anything over the course of the past four months, we knew to expect nothing short of the unexpected. 

As we took the short flight north to Windhoek, Emily and I were rather quiet.  I cannot speak for her, but I was reliving the last four months in my mind.  For the first time in a long time, who am I kidding, in forever; I was able to be myself.  No more lies, secrets or unexplainable behaviors that haunted me back at school and home.  It still remained a complete mystery to me why in a place thousands of miles away from home, in the opposite hemisphere and among a culture and people drastically different than what I knew, I felt more like myself than ever before.  Maybe this was all part of the growing process, or maybe I was not myself at all but another identity that I slowly created while in Africa.  Nonetheless, I was happy and happiness was not always easy to come by, so I tried to focus on enjoying my final moments in Africa instead of worrying about my transition back into my former life and quite possibly former self in the US. 

As I traveled down my African memory lane, the pilot interrupted my thoughts and noted that we were making our final decent into Windhoek.  My mind had been wrapped up in memories, hopes and fears that I nearly forgot I was flying.  But now I was brought painfully back into reality.  I hate flying.  As a fearful flyer, I hated the takeoff, landing and any semblance of turbulence or slight movement while in the air.  I anxiously peered out the window monitoring the approaching ground below.  If the trees in Namibia had been taller than ten feet, we would have been flying through the tops of them.  Out of nowhere, a small clearing in the low lying bushes and trees made itself visible to our left.  A faded gray strip of pavement stretched mildly through the clearing and a low rise building, resembling an elementary school hugged its left side.  Windhoek was the capital city of Namibia, but as of that moment there were no signs of a city, town or life at all for miles around.  Instantly, my stomach was in my throat as we dropped down into the clearing hitting the runway sharply.  I dug my fingernails into my armrests and squeezed my eyes shut; there was no way we were going to come to a stop before this long driveway they called a runway expired.  As the plane eased up on the brakes, I squinted open my left eye to find Emily covering a smile as she watched my panicked procedure.  We had never flown together but she found it remarkable funny that as a reckless thrill seeker, I was afraid of something as ordinary as flying. 

We disembarked the plane and crossed the runway to the customs entrance in the school-like building.  There was a slight breeze and the unobstructed sun made it feel warmer than I thought it would be.  July was the beginning of the “winter” season in the southern hemisphere, but it looked more like the rainy, spring season to me.  We had not booked a reservation in a hostel in Windhoek yet, but that was half the fun we thought.  Apparently, customs does not look kindly on this form of fun.  A stout middle aged woman with transparently blanched skin asked us to fill out the address of our intended location in Windhoek.  We looked blankly at her.  She leaned her mouth towards her radio and a in an instant, a man wearing a similar customs uniform took us into a holding room.  We were asked a series of questions about our intentions in Namibia.  The agents, realizing the only threat we posed was to ourselves, recommended a couple hostels and watched as we called and made a reservation.  For the hundredth time in the past four months, my Lost Planet guide book had failed to include this piece of vital information.  A heads up or recommendation in the side margins would have helped.  Maybe something like, “It is in your best interest to make reservations prior to arriving in another country seeing as customs do not take fondly to foreigners with large L.L. Bean backpacks exploding at the seams but no real travel plan to speak of.”

After nearly an hour, we departed the airport with reservations at a hostel, and a scolding from the customs agent about traveling alone that our parents would have been proud of.  We drove to the city; I exhaled hoping that would be our biggest hurdle of this leg of trip.  Looking back, that thought was laughable.  The landscape of Windhoek was vastly different from Cape Town.  The trees were short and harsh.  There was only a scattering of low bushes and plants throughout the parched, dirt ground.  The city itself consisted of a spattering of dwarfed skyscrapers surrounding by low lying buildings and homes.  West of Windhoek was the Namib Desert, an expansive land of sand that stretched along the entire Namibian coast and north to the southern part of Angola and south to the most northern part of South Africa.  That was our destination tomorrow.

 

 

Photo of the Orange River (natural border between Namibia and South Africa) - taken in April 2006.

Committed to Massachusetts

This is a poem I wrote for an undergrad class, probably in 2007.  The poem reflects my thoughts, feelings and experiences working for MassEquality (Boston) in the summer of 2005 as a canvasser for equal marriage rights.  Massachusetts was the first state to legalize same-sex marriage and since then six tolerant and accepting states have followed suit (New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, Iowa, New York and D.C.).  Canvassing for this cause was one of the most emotionally difficult things I have ever done. 

Committed to Massachusetts

They said sin while some said equality,
And both argued for our nation’s families.
They fought for rights in the face of
Those protecting the sanctity,
But all the while ignored
The essence of humanity.
Tolerance and understanding
Versus
Belief and faith.
Pin the tail on the scapegoat,
It’s not so easy now.
It’s not so easy now to condemn
A belief in support of your own.
It’s not so easy now to put your faith in a cause
Or replace a faith that is based on the Book
And living life right.
We fight with words and signs
And protests and glares.
We fight with insults and statistics
And argue over the logistics of a vote
That hangs in the balance for the rest
Of the nation to see.
What will their next move be,
Are they as afraid as we are to
Hear the outcome of another fight for civil rights.
Still, abroad we lose innocence day by day
Trying to cure the ways of a world gone mad,
And here we are thinking equal marriage is bad.
Who is making these decisions, who have we elected
To have such limited perspective.

--------------------------------------------------------------

http://www.hrc.org/
http://www.now.org/issues/marriage/index.html

Knowledge, Belief and Desire Oh My!

Once again this is an assignment for my 17th Century Literature graduate class. Since I do not have ANY spare time at the moment to write on this blog, I figured this was as close to a free write as I am going to get before May. Interesting questions...

1. What is the MOST important question/knowledge in life? (In other words, if you knew the answer to THIS one question, you would be sure of how to live your life). Why is this question so important? What difference would the answer/knowledge make to you?

I am really terrible at making decisions and thus I am having a really hard time with this question. There are so many important questions in life that if I knew the answers, I think I could lead a more fulfilling life. Since I can only pick one, in my opinion, the most important question/knowledge in life is what is the root of evil (understood as full of rage, vengeful, full of hate). With so much natural tragedy in the world, why does there also need to be evilness? What causes people to be evil?  If I knew the answer to this question, I would be able to adapt better in the face of evilness. Right now, when I see an aspect of evilness it shakes my core; it dumbfounds me. If I knew the root of evilness, maybe I could help alleviate it, or at the very least I could better protect my emotional well being from it. If I knew the root of evilness, I could to some degree rationalize things that don’t seem possible to rationalize. Or I could dismiss evilness and evil people, without being troubled by the notion that there is a goodness within everyone.

2. What are some differences between seeing something and knowing something?

The obvious answer is God. You may not be able to physically see God, but many people believe they know He exists. There is the phrase, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” and for the most part my mind adheres to this concept. However, last night I was kept in my night class late, about ten minutes. While driving home, I realized I had just missed a six-car accident on route 81 North by about ten minutes. I drive that route home every night. Now one can chalk it up to coincidence or luck, but fate tugs at my spiritual heartstrings. Fate is not something you can see, but at times it is something I feel I know exists.  Knowing something that you cannot see often exists in the depths of your soul. You know it and believe it because you feel it. Seeing something is a more instant and structured belief, however, there are many instances where people misread and do not see things exactly as they appear.

3.a) Whom or what do you believe in? Another way of putting this question is “When your world is crumbling down around you, in whom or what do you put your faith or your trust in?” Be careful, here. If you say you have faith in nothing, I will then ask you how sure you are you of that claim? Obviously, if you say, “I’m pretty sure,” then you have faith in something: the truth that you are certain of nothing. In other words, to claim that you believe in nothing is logically self-defeating, and therefore non-defensible; everyone puts their trust or faith in some thing or one. What is that “something” or “someone” for you?

When I am going through a difficult time I often remind myself that good things happen to good people, but bad things do not happen only to bad people. I also remind myself that bad things do not last forever. If giving myself some degree of perspective does not seem to work, then I confide in my partner and my family for strength and reassurance that I am strong enough to overcome anything. I was always told by my college softball coach to “control the controllables.” This phrase gives me a sense of power and hope when I feel powerless and hopeless.

b) Now, try to explain what your certainty/sureness/faith/trust in this being/person/idea is based or built upon. What warrants (gives you reasons for) your belief or trust or faith?

My belief in the fact that good things happen to good people is based in logic. It makes sense to me that if you are a good person who does good things for others and tries to live an admirable life, then your life will generally be good. Over time I realize that more than anything else, living by this concept really just means that I am an optimist. My positive attitude is what keeps me believing in this concept. When something bad happens, I think about all the good things that have happened in my life and thus I affirm my belief that good things happen to good people. As far as my trust in my partner and family, well that is simply based in love. The unconditional love I feel for them and my desire to do and be absolutely anything they need, allows me to believe that this feeling is reciprocated. 

"Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, to all the souls you can, in every place you can, at all the times you can, with all the zeal you can, as long as ever you can." ~ John Wesley

c) How sure are you of the object of your trust (how much faith do you have) on any given day? What factors affect your ability to believe/trust/have this faith? What could totally shatter your faith or trust? What could completely confirm it?

I am 100% sure in the object of my trust every day. The factors that affect my ability to trust my partner and family are based simply on the mutual love we have expressed for each other over time. Also, the actions of my partner and family in the past further cement my trust in them to continue to be there for me now and in the future. It would take something tremendous to shatter my trust and faith in the people I trust. I think if I was going through something incredibly difficult and expressed my need for their help and they abandoned me (for the simple fact of just not wanting to help), then my trust would be shaken, but not shattered. It would take more than an isolated incident to shatter my trust. My trust is confirmed every day when I think about my partner and family, and know that if I needed absolutely anything, emotional or physical support, I could call any of them and feel safe and taken care of. Again, the idea of being an optimist at heart plays strongly in this trust. 

"Confidence in the goodness of another is good proof of one's own goodness." ~ Michel de Montaigne 

4. a) What is your deepest desire? How is your life focused on achieving/realizing that desire? Explain.

My deepest desire is to find a balance of a fulfilling life in which I positively impact the lives of others. My life is focused on achieving my career goal of being a college field hockey coach and professor. Currently I am working on my master’s degree, while gaining valuable coaching experience as an assistant coach with one of the best field hockey programs in the country. I look to my former and current coaches and teachers as examples of the life I want to lead. Teachers and coaches profoundly affected me throughout my life. They taught me some of the most valuable lessons I will ever know and encouraged me to fulfill my dreams and give back. As a coach and teacher, I want to encourage personal growth, community involvement and an unselfish striving towards a better life for all people. I truly think I can achieve my goals of positively impacting others lives through my work as a coach and teacher. Similarly, my desire to help others and be a mentor inspires me to instill these characteristics in my family and hopefully one day my children. 

b) What, if anything, is the relationship between what you most deeply desire and what you have faith in? If there’s no relationship, how do you account for the disconnect between the two?

The relationship between my desire to impact people’s lives and my faith in the fact that good things happen to good people are directly related. I want to live the best life I can and by that I mean a life that is completely fulfilling for me and the people I interact with. I want to positively influence and be influenced by others. My desire to achieve and reach my career goals, which will put me in the place I want to be to help others, is a journey motivated by goodness. This idea of goodness is what I have faith in. I want to live life with the sense of paying it forward and allow goodness to become a wonderful, never-ending cycle in my lives and the lives I’ve been lucky enough to experience.

c) To what extent does the fulfillment of your desire depend on YOU? How much depends on factors/people/forces beyond your control?

The fulfillment of my desire depends on me more than anything or anyone else. If I put in the work and get good grades and take advantage of all the opportunities I can, I believe I will be able to be a strong candidate for a head coaching position at a college and someday a strong Ph.D candidate too. However, it is true that the admissions department at any given Ph.D program has the power to stop my desire in its tracks. Also, the job market and coaching vacancies when I graduate are beyond my control. Once I am in a full-time position I truly believe it is all up to me on how and to what degree I inspire others. Like I have said before, I can only control the controllables. I can control my work ethic, my dedication and determination. If I give everything I have, I trust good things will happen.

d) What if you fail to achieve/realize your deepest desire? What will failure mean to you?

Failure is not an option for me. If I do not become a college coach or professor I will not consider that a failure. I do not have to be a college coach or professor to influence and inspire people. I could be a high school teacher or start a non-profit or donate my time and money. The goal is to do something I love that inspires me and thus inspires others too. I think that I would be most happy coaching and teaching. I think coaching and teaching is a great avenue to inspire young adults. However, if that desire does not pan out for me, then I will direct my energy elsewhere. The only type of failure I can foresee for myself is not doing everything I absolutely could to make my desires happen. If I do not give it everything I have and expel goodness as I do it, then yes I have failed. I am in control of that though, so I will not let myself fail.

"Goodness is the only investment that never fails." ~ Henry David Thoreau
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Book recommendation:
Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

*It will force you to at least consider how seemingly unrelated instances can in fact directly affect each other.

Carpe Diem: A Thought Provoking Contemplation on Death

In my graduate class, "17th Century Literature:  Sex, Death and Salvation," we are reading poetry from the late 1500's to through the mid 1600's. Currently we are reading poetry by the Cavalier poets (written mainly in the early to mid 1600's). Cavalier poets used direct language and imagery to express the idea of "Carpe Diem" (seize the day). "Their poetry tended to follow classical models of elegance, and was written in support of wine, women, and the carefree life."* With the theme of Carpe Diem permeating their poetry, the Cavalier poets must have a unique concept of life and what happens after death. The assignment I was given was to answer the following questions about death before reading the assigned poems for the week. I'm not sure what the connection with the poetry is yet, but I will find out. Below are the questions and answers.

 The silver lining about death is cliche; it makes you appreciate life. However, appreciating life is not cliche at all, in fact it is something people forget to do all the time. There is so much to appreciate and embrace in life on a daily basis if we take the time to slow down, look around and take it all in.

1.  What do you believe happens at death? (i.e. is death the end of personal existence? is there life after death? is life cyclical, as in reincarnation). What are your beliefs based on/grounded in?

I do not believe in life after death. I want to, but I just don’t right now. I believe everyone has one opportunity to live and when it ends, it is over. However, I do partake in letting myself think that people that have died still linger and “watch over us.” I sometimes find myself thinking that some of the people in my life that have died still have feelings and emotions. People say all the time “so and so” would have been proud of you, or happy for you, or whatever the case may be. I too think those same things sometimes. For me, those thoughts are merely comforts grounded in memories. It is the memories of the people that linger. It is the experiences and knowledge of the person who has died that allows me to think, they would have been happy or proud of me. Do I really think they can see what is happening? Unfortunately, I do not think so.

My beliefs were initially grounded in my exposure to religion early on in my life. My father grew up in a Protestant home, but he never expressed any religious beliefs to our immediate family. I don’t think he embraced religion at all and that maybe it was merely forced upon him as a child. My mother grew up in a large Catholic family. Her mother worked and sang in the church. My mother’s family attended Mass every Sunday. My mother, out of duty I think, raised us Catholic. My extended family went to Mass regularly and I would attend church with them when I would visit for vacations. However, my family rarely went to Church. My brothers and sister and I were baptized, christened and sent to CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine), which was a Catholic youth education program in our town once a week. I often skipped out on it. I never went through with my confirmation. Since, my relationship with the Church has vacillated. I would go to Mass sometimes on my own during high school and early college. When a friend was killed by a drunk driver sophomore year of college, I stopped going to Mass altogether. I drifted far away from organized religion. The only time I step foot in church now is for weddings and funerals.

Since I have moved away from organized religion, I have also moved away from the notions of an after life in the form of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. I guess over time the theory of evolution, and the notions of adaptation and biology have permeated my beliefs about life and death. Right now, I think of think of things tangibly. Evolution makes sense to me, and rings true for me and thus my understanding of it informs my beliefs about death. 

Through various life experiences and relationships with people both deeply invested in the Catholic Church and others who are not, I currently sit in a place where religion has no real place in my life. However, I am a spiritual person. I believe in doing good and being good to others. I believe in helping and extending yourself to those in need whenever possible. I believe that it is a human duty to be your best, do your best and give your best. The South African principle of ubuntu has guided me since the day I heard it. As Archbishop of South Africa, Desmond Tutu explains: 

"Ubuntu is a concept that we have in our Bantu languages at home. Ubuntu is the essence of being a person. It means that we are people through other people. We cannot be fully human alone. We are made for interdependence, we are made for family. When you have ubuntu, you embrace others. You are generous, compassionate. If the world had more ubuntu, we would not have war. We would not have this huge gap between the rich and the poor. You are rich so that you can make up what is lacking for others. You are powerful so that you can help the weak, just as a mother or father helps their children. This is God's dream."

Ultimately, I believe that if you are a good person then you will lead a good life worth celebrating when it is over. If you are a good person, you will live forever in the memories of those people you impacted along the way. I guess there is a sense of longing for immortality when I think about what happens after death. However, the only immortality I see is that of memories, but not even memories can last forever. 

2.  How frequently do you think of death? When you think of it, do you most often consider your own death or the death of others or both? How do these thoughts make you feel? If you haven’t spent much time thinking about death, why do you think that is?

I think of death often. I do a fair amount of considering my own death, but mainly I think a lot about the death of aging family members. When I think about my own death I get anxious. I feel like I can’t die yet because I have not even come close to fulfilling my dreams or my goals. What young person that has died was able to fulfill his or her dreams or goals though? Thinking about my own death, in some odd way motivates me. When I think about my death, I feel grounded and better in touch with what is really important to me. When I think about others dying, it is painful. I have felt that pain before and there is no way to prepare for it. Again, in some way, thinking about other’s deaths brings the important things in life back into focus. I try not to dwell on the pain it will cause and instead let it inspire me to make meaningful memories with all my loved ones every chance I get.

3.  If you had to personify Death, how would you do so? (What would death look like? Male? Female? Sexless? Beautiful? Horrifying? etc.)

I guess I have never thought about personifying Death before. Initially I go back to my Catholic upbringing and I associate Death more with a Satan figure than a heavenly figure. To me, Death is a thief. Often times, I think of Death as heartless and greedy. I do not think of Death as something scary, but instead something too powerful. The closest thing I can think of that would personify Death the way I see it is the Grim Reaper. I do not fear the Grim Reaper, but I hate it (not him or her).

4.  How well acquainted with death are you? Are you intimately acquainted? Strangers to each other? Casual acquaintances? Enemies? Friends? Summarize your attitude towards/relationship with death.

I would say I have a casual acquaintance with death. I have been lucky in the sense that I have not lost many people that I have been close to. However, I have seen many of my close friends and family loose people they are extremely close to. These experiences have brought me within a measured distance of the pain, anger and grief death brings. The loss of a high school friend still haunts me at times. I think about him often. I think about what he would be like now, what his life would be like and what our friendship would be like. I think I will always look at a death as an enemy and a thief.

5.  How prepared do you believe you are for your own death? The death of those close to you? What have you done/might you do you to make you feel more prepared?

I believe I am completely unprepared for my own death and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I am 25 years old. Preparing for my death at my age is morbid. I don’t have any savings or own any property. I don’t have any children, so there are none of those preparations to be made. As I get older and start a family, I will start making necessary preparations, but until then I like being unprepared.

I also feel completely unprepared for the death of people close to me. I try to tell myself that if someone close to me dies, I cannot let myself fall into a black hole of grief. I suppose I tell myself this because that is exactly what I think I will do. How do you know what you will do when someone really close to you dies, if you have not lost anyone really close to you before? For me, preparations are futile. Mental preparations and reminders may be comforting now and again, but I don’t think you can really prepare yourself for death (yours or someone else’s). The only way I can say that I have prepared for my death is through broad conversations with family and close friends. They know me and they will know what to do if I die. They will know what I want.

6.  Have you given any thought to your own funeral and disposal of your body? If so, what kinds of things have seemed important to you? If not, why not?

I have talked very broadly about my funeral and disposal of my body with my partner. We agree that you never know what can happen, so it is good to know what the other person wants. The problem is I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I think I want to be buried and other times I want to be cremated. Sometimes I feel vain and want a typical funeral filled with mourners and a headstone for people to visit. Deep down I think I want people to gather and celebrate my life at a party outdoors. I think I might want to be cremated and have my ashes spread at Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. I haven’t committed to either choice. It is important to me that people celebrate my life and not let grief consume their own lives. It is important to me that I am remembered for being a good daughter, sister, friend and partner. I don’t need a legacy, but I want to hold a special place in special people’s hearts. How people choose to deal with my death is personal, but I can only hope that when it is all said in done, my life inspired them a little bit. When they think of me, I want them to smile and I want the memories to bring them comfort.

* (http://www.humanitiesweb.org/human.php?s=l&p=i&a=l&ID=9)

Upon Julia's Clothes by Robert Herrick

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free,
Oh, how that glittering taketh me!
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Book recommendation:
The Collected Poems of John Donne (any version, there are many!)