Ohi(no)

I was supposed to move to Ohio, but now I’m not.

After seeking work for 6 months and finding nothing, I decided to look in other states. I wasn’t actually seeking work in Ohio but I ended up finding something on Craig’s List (in Ohio) that looked pretty awesome. I’d be living in an “intentional community” in Ohio with a few other people. I’d be volunteering my time in the surrounding neighborhood. The volunteer work was at a food kitchen/farmers market. I’d also be working in the garden and doing community outreach related to food and wellness as this was the main goal of the organization. The house was in a nice middle class neighborhood near Cincinnati. A five bedroom, two story home. I wouldn’t have to pay for rent or food and I’d get a stipend that covered my bills and left me with some extra. The commitment was 10 months.

No. It isn’t a cult.

As a matter of fact, this is an Episcopalian non-profit “praxis” community. You don’t have to be of the same faith to be a part of the program. What you DO have to be is seeking to discover your meaning and purpose in life. You DO have to be 25-35 (I’m a little older but they liked me and said it was okay). You DO have to have a passion for and commitment to helping others within your community and you DO have to be seeking something.

Why I thought Ohio would be good for me:

1. I would be able to pay my monthly bills

2. I’d be in a community of people who had the same outlook/beliefs as me

3. Meaningful work that would probably lead to full time employment

4. I liked the spiritual aspect of the community and I looked forward to learning more about my walk with God and what that even means. Having time and space to sort out my thoughts was very appealing.

5. It would be an adventure that I could document and always remember. Maybe it would’ve changed my life…

I was 85% sure I was going until I received an email from a local principal asking if I wanted to teach English.

Wait.

I was supposed to go to Ohio. I didn’t respond to the email because I was processing. (you know us introverts can take forever processing one single thought) (my INFPness doesn’t help either) I should also mention that in June I was interviewed at the same school and was hired. I signed an “intent to hire” contingent on a background check and other teachery things. I was at home visiting my dog and my mother when I received this email from the school board:

Well then. That’s lovely. So much for hope. The next day is when I found out my father died.

While I was busy ignoring his email, the principal called me (I found out the other one transfered to a different school). I answered and he asked if I was still open to taking a position there. He assured me what happened before would not happen again. I was worried. I didn’t trust them after what had already happened but he was nice and it felt right.

So, I went down that day to speak with him. It sounded good. Better than the first position I was offered which was teaching English AND Reading. This time I’d only be teaching freshman English. I thought about it for an hour or so and I called him back and accepted the position.

The very next day I was standing in my classroom by 7:15 a.m. wondering what to do next. I was there for about 10 hours that day. On my way home I stopped at Ross so I could buy an inexpensive pair of flats when I received this email:

So, that’s fun. Now I’m a little freaked out and I don’t know if I even want to try to work for them. There’s more to it than just my taking the GK (General Knowledge). I’ve already taken the CLAST test which could substitute for the GK but of COURSE there happens to be NO record of it at the Dept. of Education (although I had to take and pass the CLAST before graduating with my two year degree but never mind that).

The fun part of all this is…I’ve taught before. For two years. Where was all this chaos then?

*sigh*

So, here I am in Jacksonville and now I have a new list of reasons why I’m glad I am staying in Jacksonville:

1. I have good friends here

2. I’m in the midst of the beginnings of a new relationship and I’d like to see where it goes

3. I’ve become much closer to a wonderful couple I’m going to call my spiritual parents. I’ll have to write an entirely separate blog to explain how they have helped me transform my life. (that’s been an ongoing process and I’ll explain more later)

4. My dog is in Florida. (I miss her. *sigh*)

5. It doesn’t snow here

This story ends well because I’ve finally discovered that faith exists and I too, can have some.

To be continued…

3 Ways to Learn About A Person

People will always tell you what’s important to them. You just have to know how to listen. They may not say it with words, but they will say it.

The first thing you can try to do is notice what do they always talk about.

Do they complain a lot or talk about others in a mean, spiteful way?

Do they talk about God?

Do they talk about going out? Drinking? Drugs?

Do they talk a lot about sex? Or maybe even their ex?

There are reasons people talk about what they do. It’s on their mind. You can really tell where someone’s heart lies by just listening closely to what they say.

The second thing you can do is notice what they surround themselves with, including the type of friends they have.

What does it look like inside their home? What do they have hanging on their walls? Do they have ANYthing hanging on their walls? Is their space crowded and messy? Is it colorful? What colors? Are there pictures of family members and friends hanging on the walls? Is the space organized? Is the space empty?

What are their friends like? What do their friends value? Does it align with what you value?

Third thing is, actions speak louder than words.

You can tell much about a person based on their actions.

Example. Some people say “I never have time for anything”. Well, take notice as to what they DO have time for. Because that’s what is important to them. Do they make time for you or do they make excuses?

The small details it could bring you quick insight into who a person is. Also, don’t think that if you point these things out to people they will automatically agree with your analysis. Most people will come up with a reason behind what they have in their possession or the things they talk about. We do these things unconsciously and sometimes people never realize their subconscious motives.

Look beyond the veil.

 

Test my theory out by looking around in your own environment and being honest with yourself. What do you surround yourself with?

What do you always talk about?

What do you truly value?

What would people say about you?

 

Here We Go Again

My biological father died on July 4th. He lives in North Carolina and was on vacation with his family for the week. The ocean swallowed him up and spit him back out. He’s the first one they talk about, Randy.

Here’s a link:

Link to News

It’s horrible. I haven’t even begun to process what’s happening. Many of you that follow my blog know I moved to South Carolina in January. At that point I hadn’t seen my father for over 10 years. Once I decided I was leaving and moving back to Florida my dad said we need to meet. He said “there’s no way I’m going to let you be this close and not see you”. So we saw one another. We met halfway. It was sweet and we picked up right where we left off. Also, we were both wearing rubber bands on our wrists. I asked him why he did it he said “I just like it”. You remember from a previous blog why I do it. I took a photo of our wrists because I couldn’t believe we had both intentionally put rubber bands on our wrists. I took his black one. I am wearing it now as I type.

grainy photo taken with my iPhone

My biological father and I have become much closer over the past two years. After the death of the man who raised me (and whom I also call dad) I contacted my biological father and asked if we could be friends again, if we could move on. His answer? “Hell yes?” He was so happy. I would later learn from my sister that ever since I cut my father off from speaking to me several years back, he started drinking more and was depressed. Also, it was my fault we hadn’t been speaking. I was still hurt and held a lot of resentment from the past. I told him when I wanted to talk to him I’d call him.

I never knew I had that much of an impact on his life. I guess I know now. Over the past two years we learned more about one another and truly became friends. Even though moving to SC wasn’t one of my best decisions, I know that without having moved I probably wouldn’t have seen my dad for an even longer time. Maybe not even before his death.

But…

this post isn’t about that. It’s about people and how they respond to things like this. I’m still in shock so if I sound bold here, I’m really not. My last few days have been spent staring off into space, crying, and moving my body from one chair to another. I’ve been alone. My mom worked the past two days and even though I have friends, nobody has come to see me.

I suppose I’m being a bit overdramatic here I mean, what do I expect? I JUST had a dad die, didn’t I? What should I expect from anyone? People have their own lives to deal with. But, I haven’t eaten much. Aren’t people supposed to cook for the bereaved? I feel dizzy (though that may be remnants of the Klonipin my mother gave me last night to help me sleep). I’m numb. I randomly burst into tears and I’m hearing from people via text message. Some text me the first or second day it happened and I suppose they think that’s good enough. But, it isn’t good enough.

I think what I am noticing is the selfishness in others and I’m asking myself how selfish I am. I recently met a friend who said he was recently so depressed he stopped paying all of his bills, barely went to work (and was almost fired) and he gave away his beloved dog because he knew he couldn’t take care of it. He said “nobody cared”. Nobody cared. Nobody cares. That seems to be a theme when it comes to others suffering.

The night I found my father drown in the ocean I sat outside on the swing. It was like the fireworks were mocking my sorrow, as if nobody cared my world was just shattered. Nobody cared about my sister who swam to try and save my father, to no avail. How tragic. Not to mention his wife and son. His wife who he’s been married to for over 25 years.  His son who was supposed to drive to the beach with them the day before but arrived just in time to see his father’s lifeless body be dragged onto the shore.

We are faced with challenges. It’s a balancing act, I know. I’ve been struggling for over 2 years since the death of the man I knew as “dad” all of my life. After I was able to refocus after his death I thought-I should be grateful, it’s not the same but I still have a father. I struggled with guilt regarding not only that but also how close do I get with Randy? How do I talk about my dead “dad” when HE was my “dad”?

This year I forgot it was Father’s Day. I suppose my mind blocked it out for me. It would’ve been nice living in Oblivion but when I logged into Facebook I saw photos of kids with dads holding them and “Happy Father’s Day” messages were splattered everywhere. I broke down crying. Sobbing would be more like it. I can’t describe how it felt to a. realize I tuned out it was Father’s Day and b. realize my relationship with my father, Randy, was good enough now that I needed to tell him Happy Father’s Day but I couldn’t tell Lowell (my step-dad) Father’s Day. People around me were calling their dads telling them hi and all I wanted to do was hear my step-dad’s voice. But, I couldn’t.

Some big awkward text to my biological father came out. I felt embarrassed by what I said and how I said it. I was confused and sad but I didn’t want to hurt him. I kept texting him back apologizing to make sure he didn’t confuse what I had said, or take it the wrong way. I had another breakdown. Sobbing on the edge of the bed. Grief and loss is the most confusing thing I’ve ever had to deal with. While I was crying, he called me. I didn’t answer because I was crying. He left a message (which is still on my phone and I listened to today) gently and sweetly reassuring me that nothing was wrong and that he felt special I even called him at all. I could tell by his voice he was worried about me. Maybe he kept waiting for me to pick the phone up because his message was over 2 minutes long. I didn’t pick it up. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want him to hear me so upset.

I did speak with him the next day and we talked about gardening and plants. He was ecstatic that I was so into gardening and we shared tips on how to keep critters out of the veggies. He asked if I needed anything. He said he was going to send me a care package. He said he loved me and he was so happy to hear from me.

That was the last time we spoke but we’ve emailed and text several times since. I received an email from him 2 days before he died. Two weeks ago I signed an “intent to hire” with a local high school. I was so happy I was finally able to look forward to work and getting my life back in order. I drove home to see my mother for a few days before heading back to Jacksonville to start getting ready for when school starts in August. Two days after I got home I received an email from the school board telling me that “due to a surplus in our county your intent to hire will not be processed as there is no position”. They were sorry if they caused any inconvenience. I shared the bad news with my dad and here’s what he said:

What the Frick?  Damn Carmen,,,what a shame! I know this sucked bad, and hit you hard, but it obviously was not meant to be for you…life sure has a way at times to kick you good and hard when you’re already down…been there, been kicked,but somehow, I always managed to get back up and start kickin “lifes” ass!  You WILL get back up baby!  There IS something out there with your name on it! I‘ll be praying hard for the right thing to happen for you!  Keep an open mind and think outside the norm. You can do anything you set your mind to!  You’ve proven this over and over… I love you baby. I’m here for ya,,,you’ll get through this I know!

…and those will be the last words I’ll ever hear him say.

An Ocean Away

tomorrow we will run faster

stretch out our arms farther

and one fine morning-

so we beat on

boats against the current

born back, ceaselessly

into the past    ~fsf

 

Self-Discovery

My past three weeks have been intoxicating. Disturbing. Liberating. The synchronicity is so prevalent it’s almost manifested itself as something tangible. I can’t wait to see where all of this is going. I’ve tried to think of words to put meaning on the events but I can’t come up with anything no matter how I try. Instead, I’ll share some photos. I want to give these events life.

*all photos were taken with my iPhone*

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Something’s emerging within me. 

It’s begging to escape the boundaries of my flesh and bones. 

It craves my attention and beckons me to give in.  

Hello/Goodbye

I’ve lived in the past for a long time. I’m still living in the past and I’ve only recently come to realize it.

This April is two years since my father died of cancer and I’ve been depressed and angry ever since. When I am “okay” I think about it from an objective point of view by asking myself questions like…how long have I REALLY been depressed? Why do I feel angry? How did the death of my father lead me to where I am now? Did it lead me to where I am now? What is grief? How long does it last? Am I still grieving?

When I asked myself those questions I realized I’ve been sad and angry a lot longer than my dad’s death. I learned he had cancer on Valentines Day in 2010. I went inward. Even more inward. I subsequently expressed what I was feeling through photographs. I, of course, didn’t realize this until about a year later.

I took my anger out on Jeremy, my boyfriend at the time. Everything went downhill fast. My relationship, my mood and my plans. I had a conversation with Jeremy once that went like this:

Me: why are we fighting so much?

Jeremy: I don’t know. When do you think it started?

Me: about 6 months ago

Jeremy: you know what happened 6 months ago?

Me: no

Jeremy: you’re dad was diagnosed with cancer

I know I keep bringing this up. It must get old reading about the same thing over and over. Carmen’s sad because her dad died…blah blah blah. Oh! Speaking of that (death) I had a dream last night that my family packed into a van and guess who was driving? My dad. Strange since the last dream I had of him we were in a camper and he was driving.

Getting back to my point. My depression does not just start with my father being diagnosed with cancer. I’ve made decisions over the past few years without really thinking about them first. I’ve always been someone who “goes with their gut” and although that has helped keep me safe along the way, something is missing. Completely. And I can’t seem to find it…but I see glimpses which is how I know it exists. It beckons me.

But, what’s missing? What am I doing wrong?

I had a conversation this week with a dear friend and he said I am “muted”. I thought about it and responded that I’ve always been muted. He said I’m meant for bigger things. I said I’m afraid and then he says “you’re the rabbit” and leaves for a moment to come back with this box titled The Peace Box (circa 1970) and upon opening the box I see the following books

The books are poems of sorts. Here’s a really good description of them: Peace, Love and Art  and this, one of my favorite pages from the book I read titled “The Rabbit Box”.

“i was the nervous white rabbit of your arms. i didn’t deserve to be loved that much but you figured time was short & life was tricky and i guess it was fun sometimes or maybe i was in spite of myself less painful to you than most”

and this describes “the rabbit”

“if crocuses in the dirty snow made you cry & remember things…those things you remembered, that is my name i am the rabbit”

My sensitivity sees all things. I am the rabbit. I was even born in the year of the rabbit, whatever that means.

I think what I am reminding myself of here is to give myself a break. I don’t need all the answers and I may never have them. But, making love to every leaf that moves and crying over things remembered in dirty snow is something only few people can do. I am one of those people. Luckily for you I can capture those images with my camera and share them with you and then just for that single moment you too are looking at what I see that others can’t.

Cover Letters & Monkey Minds

I’ve written all kinds of cover letters in the past 2 months. The job search has been a pain. I had a phone interview yesterday with a lady that forgot we had an interview the day before…maybe she’ll forget to hire me?

I have some observations from the past week.

Observation One

Monkey. Google.

“Monkey mind” is something Buddhists call a mind that cannot be still. An undisciplined mind, if you will. Monkey mind distracts us from being in the moment. It judges, analyzes and worries and therefore, it’s shit. Stop the monkey mind. That’s been on my (monkey) mind.

Seriously though…

Monkey mind has been in my thoughts but what’s been in my thoughts even more is the idea of getting back to meditating. I used to meditate at a Buddhist temple in Tampa, Fl. and I know there’s one in Jax. I had a bell. I had cushions, candles, a Buddha statue and a place set aside just for meditation. I miss it.

I was reminded of it the other day at the drum circle when, as part of the opening ceremony, we chanted together. There were about 40 people and we all had our heads toward the center of the circle. It was a tight fit and my arms were so scrunched up that I ended up only being able to lay them on the center of my chest.

Why yes, yes I did take pictures while IN the circle. Only two though.

Have you ever “Om’d” with others? Or by yourself? It’s fantastic. I tried to find a good YouTube video on it but they all suck. The closest thing I can explain in regards to experiencing it is if you where ever in choir or if you’ve ever been part of a singing group. When everyone is on the same note and holding it there’s a certain vibration, a unified chord, note or tone that emerges and it sounds like one voice. One very strong voice. It’s cool and therefore the Om is cool. As a matter of fact, you should try it.

You can start in whatever key you’d like. It turns into 3 sounds. The first part is “a” (long a) and turns into an “o” which turns into an “m” sound. Now you know what it’s supposed to sound like, where do you start? Just start. Take a really big breath (from your diaphragm) and just bust out with it.

Om. Google.

It doesn’t matter how long or short your Om is. Do it for as long as you want. In my experience, it’s better when it’s longer. To me it feels like I’m cleaning out my system. It’s purifying. Not to mention it lowers blood pressure and heart rate.

My roommate and I Om’d on Easter Sunday at the park. There was something magical about it. I kept thinking someone was going to come up and do it with us which, in my intuitive mind, makes me think someone wanted to. It’s a freeing feeling when you can do something like that and not worry about being judged or worry about what other people think.

While looking up at the sky I saw this “J”. Weird huh.

Observation Two

The damn cover letters.

Saying the same things over and over and over again. Repeat. Change a few words. Repeat. Change the address. Repeat.
Change the salutation. Repeat. Revise a paragraph. Repeat.

Out of all this, I feel an actual cover letter emerging. I real cover letter. One that actually says who I am and not what I think employers want to hear. Something that truly explains who I am.

I am reminded of when I had the students in my Critical Thinking class “observe” a fruit for 45 minutes. They each brought in a piece of fruit for the project. Once class commenced I had them make two columns on their single sheet of paper. The left column was headed “Observations” and the right side “Distractions”. I had them write everything they could about the fruit on the left hand side. The smell, touch, taste, texture, anything at all. On the right hand side I had them write down when their thoughts strayed onto something other than observing the fruit. Some examples were “thought about what to make for dinner”, “why is she making us do this”, “someone just walked by the classroom”, etc.

I am reminded of this project because of Swiss paleontologist, Louis Agassiz’ approach to teaching a pupil how to observe. Google “look at your fish”.

Scudder gave his reply in terms of what he had seen in his first hours with the fish. Agassiz listened and replied:

“You have not looked very carefully; why,” he continued more earnestly, “you haven’t even seen one of the most conspicuous features of the animal, which is a plainly before your eyes as the fish itself; look again, look again!” and he left me to my misery.

What I am noticing is something is emerging from the repetition. Something that has not yet truly emerged. Something that almost makes me want to write about 50 more cover letters just to see what happens.

Almost.

This Week Sucks

This week 2 years ago my dad was in the hospital dying. I was working in Jacksonville and wasn’t there when, on April 1 (yes, April Fools Day-awesome) my family made the decision to unplug him from all the monitors. He died on 4/1/11 at 11:44. In the past few days I’ve found myself increasingly depressed and once I realized why I was reminded that I felt the same way on the anniversary of his death last year.

self portrait

Anyway, here’s what happened yesterday.

Yesterday was my friend Amber’s birthday and she texted me the day before and asked if I’d come over sometime during the day or in the evening. I wanted to go see her because it was important. Honestly though, I really didn’t want to go anywhere. I’m feeling pretty down lately and I really just wanted to stay inside.

Her house is about 45 minutes away from mine so the other factor in that is gas since I don’t have a job. My only income now is from photography jobs which are random. (See previous posts on my dumb decision to quit my job and move to a different state with someone I didn’t really know. Sorry, K) But it was her birthday so I went.

The Hookah Bar

When I got there Amber decided she wanted to go to the hookah bar for fool (Egyptian dip made of fava beans) and grape leaves. While we were there everything shifted and it was all so strange that it’s difficult for me to remember all the details. Amber told me she had talked about her dad to a friend the previous night and that she never talks about it. I didn’t even know her dad had passed. I didn’t remember. I blocked it out so we wouldn’t ever talk about it…I don’t know. I don’t even remember how the subject of dead fathers came up at the hookah bar, but it did.

So, there at the hookah joint she told me her father died of cancer. He was diagnosed and died within 3 months. It happened in 2005. She told me about the last time she saw him and how she knew it would be the last time. She went through several years of sorrow, confusion and craziness and looks back on it the same way I do…what the hell just happened and how did I get here? And here we are having a conversation we’ve never had on her birthday and on the anniversary of my father’s death.

As Amber talks about her dad she cries. I cry. We stare out the window. Okay, I stare out the window so I don’t cry even more. She talks about how it doesn’t get any better. She says you learn to appreciate the experiences you had together and try to incorporate them into your life. She says she is still working on her anger. This isn’t helping.

We talk about how we both sense our fathers through birds of prey and how we’ve both almost hit an Eagle and Owl with our cars. We talk about how both of our fathers collected Eagles and how the day after she found out her father died she went to work and how a week after my dad died I got another job. How it hurts us both to still talk about it but how we can sometimes find a peace and beauty to all of it and how sometimes things seem okay.

Silently, we paid and got in my car to go back to her house.

When we got in the car I played this song (which you should listen to now): 

While driving I noticed some wildflowers on the side of the road and I told Amber I was stopping so I can pick her some flowers. She put her hand on mine and said wait…I just need a moment…and she started crying. I just sat there and held her hand with both of mine. I cried with her.

When she was able to she said “my dad used to pull off the side of the road and pick me flowers” and I quietly got out of the car and picked the flowers while watching the setting sun swirl through them while creating a soothing warm glow.

After I left Ambers I went to see a special viewing of the movie American Beauty (1999) in a nearby theatre. It’s one of my top 5 favorite movies. Poignant, beautiful film. After I got home I received this poem (out of the blue) from a different friend who also lost her father, but at a much younger age.

If in this moment, we were face to face

I imagine we’d sit side by side and stare, wordlessly out to space.

Comfortable with silence in any moonlit place.

Quietly I’d take your hand, trace circles in your palm

Round and round unwind this day, ’till every stress was gone.

When days are dark, just take my hand, our own vibration, I’ll always understand.

and was subsequently reminded of a quote from American Beauty…

“And that’s the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know that there was no reason to be afraid, ever…Sometimes, there’s so much beauty in the world – I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart is just going to cave in.”