Writing my words here on WordPress feels safe. I can get the words out of my head but in some ways can control the span of exposure. But I’ve been working on strengthening my voice in new ways. Sharing my perspective at work, and saying what I see. I’m realizing there is value in that and it is why I am blessed with the job I have – so I’m working to improve the space on “the stage” that I try to fill.

I just published my first article on LinkedIn – which I’ve always felt was a place for others to share, but not really a platform for me. I’ve decided to change that mentality.

I share it here for accountability and because I LOVE that photo of Longview at sunrise yesterday morning…so any excuse to share it feels worthwhile. 😉

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For our team at work, we’ve designated the first Monday of each month as Mindful Monday. It is an opportunity for team members to spend time expanding their minds on topics that are of interest to them. They are encouraged to reduce their regular work meetings on this day to make space of their own mindful expansion and learning on topics that feed their personal and professional growth. Things I’ll be focused on include: What is covering? How can I be a better ally? How do I understand my own white privilege? What does it mean to truly be an activist for others? This blog marks my own exploration into how I used the time.

I get a daily news email that compiles different topics across the tech industry and cultural happenings in our nation, and as I read it this morning, one of the articles caught my eye from New York Times (NYT) author and Pulitzer Prize winner Isabel Wilkerson, America’s Enduring Caste System. This seemed like a very good starting point for my Mindful Monday. After having lived in India and being exposed (and disturbed) by their caste system, I realized I had not thought about America having its own caste system. In addition to this article, I also read an article on CNN.com a friend had shared, and a Facebook post from another friend. As I read and consumed, I realized I wanted to process and capture the learnings – there are many aspects of these three reads that resonated with me, so I decided to share excerpts and a-has that struck me, in case they also help others. Below are my thoughts and takeaways:

We are All The Same… or we certainly started that way and this fact has been lost in the history books. This excerpt from the article reinforces the notion we all come from the same place, yet the division in our world certainly doesn’t represent this statistic.

And yet, in recent decades, we have learned from the human genome that all human beings are 99.9 percent the same. “Race is a social concept, not a scientific one,” said J. Craig Venter, the genomics expert who ran Celera Genomics when the initial sequencing was completed in 2000. “We all evolved in the last 100,000 years from the small number of tribes that migrated out of Africa and colonized the world.” Which means that an entire racial caste system, the catalyst of hatreds and civil war, was built on what the anthropologist Ashley Montagu called “an arbitrary and superficial selection of traits,” derived from a tiny fraction of the tens of thousands of genes that make up a human being.

Caste Systems are like COVID | “Caste is insidious and therefore powerful because it is not hatred; it is not necessarily personal. It is the worn grooves of comforting routines and unthinking expectations, patterns of a social order that have been in place for so long that it looks like the natural order of things.”

My learning = yes, we absolutely have a caste system in the US and it is rooted in 400 years of history that must be understood and changed (more on this below). We can’t continue with the way things have been (on many levels), which is one of the things I’ve appreciated about COVID. My hope that things won’t return to how they were pre-COVID. How can we think of the caste system as a truly global pandemic? How can we go to great measures to change our behavior so we don’t go back to the patterns and engrained assumptions we once knew? How do we stop doing the behavior just because it is what we’ve known and how we have functioned?

Martin Luther King as an Untouchable | The NYT article speaks to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. visiting India, and an instance where he went to speak to school-aged students. He is introduced as an Untouchable from the US. Untouchables are the lowest caste in India. In a description I found online, “they are considered contaminated from the day they were born and are faced with significant discrimination.”

From the article:

“For a moment,” he (Dr. King) would later recall, “I was a bit shocked and peeved that I would be referred to as an untouchable.”

Then he began to think about the reality of the lives of the people he was fighting for — 20 million people, consigned to the lowest rank in America for centuries, “still smothering in an airtight cage of poverty,” quarantined in isolated ghettos, exiled in their own country.

And he said to himself, “Yes, I am an untouchable, and every Negro in the United States of America is an untouchable.” In that moment, he realized that the Land of the Free had imposed a caste system not unlike the caste system of India and that he had lived under that system all his life. It was what lay beneath the forces he was fighting in America. 

My Personal Experience with Caste in India | I was honored to spend a significant amount of time while living in India with what a native Indian in there society would label as an “untouchable”. Mamatha was the woman I hired to care for Moksha (my pup) while I was at work during the day. Her soul is pure. She was in my home daily and fiercely protected us during our time there. When I traveled for work, she would bring her then-8-year-old son Lakhi to my house and the two of them would care for Moksha in my absence. Lakhi loved getting to have his own room, to walk Moksha each day, give her baths, and would sit on the couch with her while he enjoyed cartoons on my Netflix account (since he had never experienced Netflix before). Mamatha kept us safe, she provided amazing care to us; she is someone who taught me and impacted me in ways I’m still realizing and appreciating.

 

The article disrupts my brain though, as I never thought of Mamatha as a servant. Never. I called her my House Princess because everything she did was amazing and she made our lives better. Moksha doted on her and spun with joy each time she arrived. She knew the sound of Lakhi’s voice as he would step off the elevator and she’d run to the couch and jump up to watch for him out the window. They were our family. But now that I’ve read this article I’m floored at the parallels and disgusted at the thought I bought into the system without realizing the correlation. I’m not sure how to think about this yet – it confuses me. I know I treated her with the greatest respect and I saw her as equal, yet I didn’t realize I had bought into their fabric of society that I find so wrong and disturbing.

Mamatha (next to me in the green) had me over for dinner at their house. Friends I had made in Hyderabad, shared this was unheard of for people of the lower caste to invite “royalty” (which is how they looked upon ex-patriots from the US) to their home. I was told it was the utmost sign of respect for them to welcome me to into their space and cook for me. The entire family  drove to pick me up in their new car, and then sat and watched as I ate, then drove me back home – about an hour each way. It was one of the most humbling, beautiful nights in my life thus far. 

The Facts are Real, as is Your Privilege | As I’m trying to sort through my own confusion (which is the place in which I often find the strength to grow), I read this post a friend had shared on Facebook (thank you Emily!). I read it once, contemplated it, and then read it again. I love how it simplifies the complexity of our history in the US to truly articulate how engrained the patterns are, what “white privilege” really means, and why it is up to each of us who are in this category to learn, grow and change to we can stop the cycle. I’m sharing here, as I trust we all can use the reminder and refresh of history in our country.

One more time. In case it’s still unclear. 400 years ago white people brought black people over here and enslaved them. And sold them. And treated them as less than human. For 250 years. While white men formed the country and created its laws and its systems of government. While 10-15 generations of white families got to grow and flourish and make choices that could make their lives better.

 And then 150 years ago white people “freed” black people from slavery. But then angry white people created laws that made it impossible for them to vote. Or to own land. Or to have the same rights as white people. And even erected monuments glorifying people who actively had fought to keep them enslaved. All while another 5, 10 generations of white families got to grow and accumulate wealth and gain land and get an education.

 And then 60 years ago we made it “legal” for black people to vote, and to be “free” from discrimination. But angry white people still fought to keep schools segregated. And closed off neighborhoods to white people only. And made it harder for black people to get bank loans, or get quality education or health care, or to (gasp) marry a white person. All while another 2-3 generations of white families got to grow and pass their wealth down to their children and their children’s children.

 And then we entered an age where we had the technology to make PUBLIC the things that were already happening in private– the beatings, the stop and frisk laws, the unequal distribution of justice, the police brutality (police began in America as slave patrols designed to catch runaway slaves). And only now, after 400+ years and 20+ generations of a white head start, are we STARTING to truly have a dialog about what it means to be black.

 White privilege doesn’t mean you haven’t suffered or fought or worked hard. It doesn’t mean white people are responsible for the sins of their ancestors. It doesn’t mean you can’t be proud of who you are.

 It DOES mean that we need to acknowledge that the system our ancestors created is built FOR white people. It DOES mean that we aren’t disadvantaged because of the color of our skin and it DOES mean that we owe it to our neighbors– of all colors– to acknowledge that and work to make our world more equitable.

What Am I Saying That Needs to Stop? My friend Sara shared this CNN article today (Everyday words and phrases that have racist connotations) and the title intrigued me, so I opted to bring these lessons into my day of learning. Holy crap it was eye opening! Do you call it a “Master Bedroom”? Do you use the words Master/Slave to talk software and hardware components? Do you love watching “The Masters” golf tournament each April? Have you ever said, “Any other comments from the Peanut Gallery?” Have you heard of something being “Grandfathered In”? Do you remember doing the “cakewalk” at your elementary school carnival? Do you think people act “uppity” sometimes? We say things and have NO idea what it might mean, so join me in learning a few new things to NOT say.

We Shall Overcome | In the NYT article, there is mention of American professors visiting the state of Utter Pradesh in India, and them singing the song We Shall Overcome to their Indian hosts. The local Dalits (untouchables) had shown up for this ceremony, and even in India they knew the song and joined in. How incredible that more than 8,000 miles away, a group from the lowest caste, considered uneducated and not worthy of life, knew this American song. (For Reference, compliments of Wikipedia: “We Shall Overcome” became particularly popular in the 1960s, during the Civil Rights movement in America, after Pete Seeger learned it, adapted it, and taught it to his audiences to sing.) Music can connect and bind the hopes of others. I searched for a version of the song that resonated with me. This version of the song was sang by the Morehouse College Glee Club in Atlanta.

I chose this version of the song because:

1. It is stunning and it helped me take pause – after listening a few times I put it on repeat as quiet background while I finished reading the NYT article.
2. When I lived in Atlanta in 1997-98, I was on the stats crew for the Atlanta Glory – the women’s NBA team. They played their games at Morehouse College so I have a personal recollection and snapshot in my memory of the campus. I remember being told I couldn’t leave the gym after the games, because it was too risky for a white woman to be there at night. Growing up in Southwest Washington, and being 22 when told this, I realized I had been raised in a very different world. I was sheltered from history and not exposed to many truthful realities of our nation’s history. I had much to learn and still do. Now that this article has brought a different perspective to me on racism in America and the correlation with the caste system,  I have much to contemplate in my own upbringing and how those lessons that weren’t necessarily taught, but subtlety engrained in my education, home life, and social interactions have also shaped the Angie I am today. For me the key is to not stop thinking, to keep processing, and continue to peel back the layers. There is always more to discover.

The NYT article states, “Modern-day caste protocols are often less about overt attacks or conscious hostility. They are like the wind, powerful enough to knock you down but invisible as they go about their work. They are sustained by the muscle memory of relative rank and the expectations of how one person interacts with others based on their place in the hierarchy. Caste had intruded into all of their lives. Caste entitlement is not about luxury cars and watches, country clubs and private banks, but knowing without thinking that you are one up from another based on rules not set down on paper but reinforced in commercials, television shows and billboards, from boardrooms to newsrooms to gated subdivisions to who gets killed first in the first half-hour of a movie, and affects everyone up and down the hierarchy. This is the blindsiding banality of caste.”

We all have a lot to learn. Entitlement must be unlearned. The key is to be willing to build new muscle memory. Growing, expanding, questioning, changing, stopping, starting. The necessity upon each of us is to continue our learning – as a colleague eloquently stated, this is a movement, not a moment. That is the wave needed to build up enough of a groundswell so that true change happens.

Thanks for going on this learning journey with me on Mindful Monday. I’m excited to continue my self-expansion and grateful I had this space during the workday to do it. I’m  even more grateful I feel personal accountability to doing this on a more regular basis during my personal time, so that I can be a better human. ❤

 

 

 

I have been grappling with the right words. I fear saying the wrong thing. I hesitate to unintentionally offend when that is the furthest thing from my intent.

My head swims with the articles I have read. How to be a better ally, what to read, what to be moved by. I’m being very honest here in saying it is completely overwhelming. Yet if I’m honest, I do this from the comfort of my cozy condo in an affluent neighborhood, close to my office that provides me a safe and meaningful job I can do from the comfort of my home.

Is this white privilege? I’ve not thought of it that way, but I know I have never feared having a knee to my throat and pleading for breath – begging for my mom. I don’t know what it is like.

I had a tiny glimpse while in India of what it is like to not look like everyone else. I was reminded constantly that I looked different and the fatigue of the sneaked looks, the overt stares while I’d wait on the street for an uber, the cautious interest from the cleaning crew of women in the bathrooms at work. I would always smile – I always tried to extend my space and welcome the stares, because I wanted them to be more comfortable with my presence. It was exhausting.

I wasn’t fearing for my life in any of these instances, so please know I’m not comparing the two. But I can tell you the fatigue from looking different, feeling like I didn’t belong, and always wondering who I could trust was a life I wasn’t interested in living long-term, so I changed it. The difference for me is that I could change it. Blacks and African Americans don’t have that luxury. I do, so that is the privilege I was born with.

The last 48 hours have been overwhelming. For the black and African American community, I realize that is just about the most pathetic thing I can say. But I use those words because I’m struggling to understand. I’m trying desperately to know what I can do differently. How can I change my own behavior to be a trusted ally and driver of change? Not just believing it is wrong and being appalled by what I’m witnessing but doing something about it.

I’m a words person – especially song lyrics. Tonight, I found a Black Lives Matter playlist on Spotify. I decided to listen since I spent most of the day listening to different perspectives on the need to stop the inequality that surrounds all of us. This quote really struck me from this Pastor from south side of Chicago, “Don’t loot. Don’t break windows. If we must break something, we must break racism, racial terror and white supremacy.”

I get music. Lyrics speak to me. They can stop me in my tracks.

Tonight, the above song Might Not Be Ok came on by Big K.R.I.T. and Kenneth Whalum. It has been on repeat for the last 2 hours. Admittedly, I had never heard the song, but was shocked at how quickly they wrote and released it, since it is about George Floyd’s death.

Police brutality is all in your mind
And the tactics that they use only look worse in rewind
And people die everyday, you should get used to it
Can’t breathe
Hands behind yo’ back, face down, and still say you shootin’
Knee where your neck be like why you movin’
Kids in your car, headed home like what you doin’?

Then I looked up the lyrics and the meaning, and saw that the song was released in September 2016. That is when it hit me. Holy fucking shit ­– this is so normal and (horrifically) accepted it is a dated song lyric. I have not meant to be ignorant, but this is when it registered for me. This song created my epiphany. This is why there is so much anger. This horrific act keeps repeating itself. Nobody is changing the inequality in our system – it is broken. We have white supremacists lurking in places of power. It needs to stop. We must break the current construct we know – it doesn’t work. It hasn’t for decades and now is the time.

I read this article by Chris Smellie, a colleague I have great respect for, and my takeaway was to find one thing I can commit to and make the time. This is what I am doing. I’ve created my plan to become more educated, to build my empathy muscle on things I don’t yet understand, and I am committed to the time to build that muscle and be a better human.

I have a dear life friend who confronted me yesterday about a post I put on Facebook. I deeply love and respect this friend, so I deleted the post. I wasn’t trying to fan the flames of white privilege; I was truly seeking to understand and comprehend what was going on; and I decided to express it on a social platform. She knows me deeply, so knows it was not intentional, yet her raising the flag for me rocked my world. I don’t want to be someone unintentionally ignorant and oppressing others. That isn’t me. Today, I commit to my own education and doing differently.

I’m committed to trying and doing different.  I know I will make mistakes. I know I will say the wrong thing. When that happens, I ask for your grace and compassion.  My friend and colleague Sydne shared Maya Angelou’s quote today, “When you know better, you do better.”  This is now on me to know better, because I commit to doing better.

Last night’s sunset brought tiny bits of solace; we all just needed a bit more light in the day.

One of the things I value in this blog is I can use it as a means of self-accountability. This is one of those moments where I share in hopes of gaining my own clarity, and possibly bringing a few of you along on this journey.

I have a deep desire to write a book. I love being able to express myself through words – it is how I process, learn, and (hopefully) grow. The idea has been brewing in my head for a while, but I’ve struggled with how to start. I’ve struggled with whether anyone would want to read what I share. I’ve struggled with not overengineering all of it.

With that said, there is backstory to this blog post, so let me set the stage with that…

Often, I find that people and messages naturally come to me. I’m not a fan of the phrase “Law of Attraction,” because I think of it as setting intentions and manifesting what I want and need in my life. Regardless of the phrase, I was at an appointment with an intuitive healer (Marie Manucheri – for those who might be curious) in early April. She told me she believes my life purpose is to write and share my story with others. I had shared very little about myself, so it was a trip to have a total stranger telling me my purpose in life is aligned to one of my biggest, scariest goals and desires. It was a wild experience.

She suggested I investigate how to make the time to get my story out of my head and on paper, and that I consider using the book as a platform to intuitively guide others. She recommended a teacher who does seminars, to give me structure and guide me in what I could potentially put together. She recommended a man named Alan Cohen, whom I had never heard of, but later learned has published 34 books and is “known” in the realm of spiritual writing and teaching. I looked him up and literally two days later he had a 10-week class starting on how to design and deliver a seminar/workshop. No coincidences.

The next day at work I received a cancellation email about a training I had signed up for. It was cancelled due to COVID. I had an epiphany. What if I took the course as part of my development for work?! It could help me in my role in how I facilitate and support the executives I work with, but it could also give me the chance to develop my own story and look to share it with others through work. YES! The light bulb went off. I reached out to my manager and asked her if she was supportive. She was amazing and gave me a resounding YES, and now I’m in week 6 of the class.

What I didn’t realize when I signed up, and should have maybe assumed, was that I would have to deliver my own workshop in order to get my certificate for the course. YIKES! Mildly scary for me, because I typically find ease “behind the curtain,” shining the light on others. Now I’ve shoved myself to the front of the stage. This is exactly why I signed up – to learn and grow through discomfort – I just hadn’t planned on having to do a mandatory workshop to attain the growth. And yes, it is precisely what I need.

So now I’m in the throws of designing a 60-minute workshop. I must design the class, the experience, and how I will impact the lives of those who participate. We are accountable for promoting it, so this is my way of starting the process, holding myself accountable, and asking for help, which is not easy for me to do. My ultimate intent is the process of this class and designing my own workshop will feed the ideas and concept I need to get out of my head, to help write the book.

HELP!

If you’re reading this you know me and you likely get me. As my life has transformed the past six years and I’ve shared bits of my journey, what are things that have piqued your interest? Are there things I’ve tackled or encountered that have been helpful? Are there experiences or adventures I could possibly share and motivate others with?

Here is my current idea:

• Title of the Course: Choose Your Own Adventure: Creating and living your best life
• Abstract: Have you felt you aren’t living the life you want to live? Do you believe there is more than what society and others have in store for you? Join me as I share three impactful lessons that encouraged me to embrace a more intuitive, fulfilling life – making self-full choices to live a life of purpose and intention. In this one-hour online workshop you will go on an inner journey with other curious souls through hands-on lessons, stories, and empowering techniques to debunk the myths of societal should’ing and expectation. The following three lessons will be covered during our time together:

1. Understand and acknowledge your past | Honor what you have learned, and use that to guide you, but not impede you
2. Don’t Be the Little Mermaid | Give voice to your desires and manifest what you want.
3. You Can Only Change You | You can’t change anyone else. Put energy and care into being your whole self.

Join the course and take-away personal actions you can implement to start living your best, most desired life. Sign up today by emailing angiewean@outlook.com.

That is what I have so far. Please, please, please be honest. Poke holes in it. Your sincere and raw feedback is appreciated because it helps in my evolution. I eventually want to expand this to 10 lessons I’ve embraced and use the as the backbone for the book, but for the class assignment I’m focusing on three… baby steps. Hit me with your thoughts and suggestions. Being vulnerable is how I stretch my skin.

This is uncomfortable, so I appreciate those willing to voice their thoughts. Thanks, my friends!

 

 

 

 

I often wake and ensure I have quiet space to drink my coffee and set an intention for the day. It brings calm and focus that I might not otherwise have. It’s good for my head and heart. This morning was different, coffee but no intention, as I had a video chat date with my dear friend Piyu in Hyderabad. After that, I worked on a timeline of “life moments” because I was going to see a new spiritual/energy healer/therapist person today, so wanted to be clear headed and intentional in what I shared with her.

After the busy morning, I headed over to Seattle for my appointment and left early to ensure I had time to find the building, parking, etc. I got there with time to spare, so was sitting in the back parking lot of a non-descript building on Eastlake Ave. I was listening to music and reading over my timeline to make sure I had my thoughts in order. The lot was virtually empty and my therapist asked I meet her there because the door would be locked so she’d need to let me in.

As I sat there, I saw movement near the door out of the corner of my left eye. I gave a quick glance and felt instantly confused. All I could think was, “Is that Dave Matthews?!? No….how can that possibly be Dave Matthews? Is this a messed up joke right now?!?”. He and his wife were walking towards the door. My stomach dropped and my hands began to shake. It sounds ridiculous, but my body was reacting and the disbelief that he was “right there” was beyond what my head could comprehend.

The door was locked, so they started to walk away (insert Angie attempting to be a creeper and take a photo so I could share the moment with others). As they were leaving, my therapist pulls in and I get out of my car and inform her that I just saw Dave Matthews. Clearly she has zero context of my connection to the music, the shows…all of the impact he and the band have had on my life for the past 20+ years.

She keys us into the building and we are standing at the elevator. All of a sudden I heard the voice. His wife comes from the stairwell and I look at her and said in an excited, yet likely super-awkward tone to her, “I can hear his voice…”. She smiled at me and then he was standing there. Their conversation stopped as I stared in complete disbelief. I believe I thanked him. I remember holding my hand over my heart as I stumbled with words. He smiled as they walked away. He was about 4 feet away and I asked if he would mind a photo, and he graciously agreed. Thank goodness I’ve taken plenty of selfies in my day to ensure a decent pic – the training paid off!

I think I put my hands in prayer pose (all that yoga and meditating) and gave him a nod as they walked away. It’s about 6.5 hours later and I’m still completely dumbfounded. There was so much I should have said. I kick myself for not showing him my “seek up” tattoo, so he’d know the profound impact his music has had on my life. His words, their sound…it has truly helped me rise from some of the darkest places in my life, and also aided in celebrating epic amounts of goodness. My friend Sally said it’s likely a good thing I didn’t show him the tat. Ha!

I had made the appointment with the healer because I wanted to be very intentional about moving some negative experiences and energy that feel stuck in my being, and out of my life for good. While I did appreciate the appointment and found her methodology interesting, I can promise you the jolt of energy I experienced in those few minutes of seeing him, then meeting him – that is something I will never forget. And his music has moved me and impacted my energy for decades. Thank you Dave, for being one of the most important healers in my life.

The one random side note to all of this, is I believe in no coincidences. When I was living in Fort Collins, CO, I had a meditation teacher. When I left, we agreed we would still meet via webcam on a monthly basis, which we have done, and it has been over 4 years since I left FoCo. She was in Seattle in early January and invited me to dinner with her and her friend of over 40 years. The woman fascinated me, she felt like a kindred soul, and then I learned she did this healing work. I left the dinner and went home and booked an appointment. A few weeks later I’m meeting Dave in the elevator lobby of her building. So weird…

The way the Universe is connected, how the moments come together and create the magic we experience in our lives – it is something I see, I deeply value, and never take for granted. Never underestimate the interconnectedness of nature, animals, and each other.

And the chances I’m casually hanging out around and near that building on Saturday’s at 12:45 pm? Highly likely. Give me a shout if you want to join me. 😉

 

Best of What’s Around (one of my favorite songs/lyrics)

“Turns out not where but who you’re with
That really matters
And hurts not much when you’re around
And if you hold on tight
To what you think is your thing
You may find you’re missing all the rest

Well she ran up into the light surprised
Her arms are open
Her mind’s eye is

Seeing things from a
Better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel
Oh you could say she’s safe
Whatever tears at her
Whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done
She’ll make the best of what’s around”

One year ago, today (Oct 17), I flew to Hyderabad, India to completely change my life. I went over fully intending on staying there, and with no guess that it would turn out the way it did. But I wanted to do it. I wanted adventure, to be uncomfortable – I wanted to grow as a human, to expand my mind, build awareness, and have proximity to a different culture and way of life.

When I think back to all that the past year has contained, it feels like a complete time warp in so many ways. I remember getting back to Seattle and my first few nights trying to sleep in my temporary apartment in downtown Bellevue. It was so quiet at night you could hear for miles. In India, the horns never rest, they go all night. If I woke in the middle of the night, I’d often find myself trying to count seconds between honks to try and sleep. If I got to 3 seconds, it was a big deal…horns are certainly not sheep. 😉

I transitioned from a dysfunctional, unhealthy work environment, to working on a team with authentic, caring people who are all focused on trying to do great work and drive impact for others. While I made a few dear friends there, to be home with life friends and family has been an exceptional boost to my spirits. I have mountains, water, clean air, sand, trees, trails…it’s all here.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say with all of this. It just feels like such a blur. I think one of the biggest lessons I have had is that if we want change, we actually have to clear the space for that change to happen. So often we feel stuck and like things can’t change. I believe if we are willing to take risks and fully embrace life, that we can open ourselves up to possibilities we can’t even fathom.

It’s a curious practice – to assess what is in your life that might not belong anymore. And to maybe not know what it is you do want. But I think the one thing I’ve learned is that for me, I have such a heightened focus on what is near, that I must find ways to shift my gaze and lift my head up to see differently. I have to get past what is easy for me to see. I need to open my eyes to inhale what is around me – to experience possibilities that are there if I can only give them the chance.

So now I feel myself doing that again. I’m making space for new.

Last night, I found myself on my 5^th date with an incredibly kind man. We were in the Ravenna neighborhood north of the U district here in Seattle, at an old church that was turned into an art-like multipurpose Collaboratory space. I walked in thinking I was going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time in my life. Instead, we learned that it was something called One Night Choir and we would be learning and performing a song from the movie. I’m sorry…what?!?

But we went for it. We took the song sheet, found a pew and met some very kind people. We learned the different parts to The Time Warp, a song from the movie (which he knew and had seen many times). We laughed, we ooooo’d and doop’d (part of the song) and I learned that there a dance that goes with the song; yes we did the dance. They recorded it. It is likely already on YouTube. You can’t make a night like that up.

If you told me one year ago, as I was boarding my flight to Hyderabad, that in one year I would be living in Seattle after being gone for 10 years, that I’d have a dream job, I’d have PennyG back with Moksha and me, that I’d be surrounded by so much love and friendship, and oooing on a date in a church flanked by people in costumes (that I didn’t get since I still haven’t seen the movie!), I’d laugh and tell you that you’re crazy.

Yet here I am. My very own Time Warp, and I am loving every second of it. Keep your heads up – watch for what you aren’t seeing because it is there for you.

“I remember doing the Time Warp
Drinking those moments when
The blackness would hit me
And the void would be calling.”

Find the void my friends. Amazing is on the other side.

 

 

Tonight, I have a hankering to write. I’m not sure what as gotten in to me, but I can feel the Universal energy around me shifting. This post might be a bit vague, as I’m not sure what I’m intending to achieve with my words, I just have these parallel thoughts in my head and I think they will come together.

Thought 1: I made a big decision yesterday. I chose me.
I’ve done this before, as many of you know who from my Williams days, but this was different. I have had a sick, toxic person in my life for 3+ years. I was un-intentionally raised codependent, as someone who aims to help fix and please others. In this friendship/relationship existence, I thought I could bring normalcy to someone else’s life by being a light, bringing new perspectives, and loving with all my might. I finally realized you can’t force that on someone who isn’t open to fully receiving it. I learned the only person I can truly change is myself. I learned that for someone else to love me, they have to wholly love themselves first. Big, meaty lessons.

Some days I feel worn by the lessons. Some were on frickin’ repeat and I kept allowing the pain and then the recovery. I won’t share much more, but I do want to say this to each of you: Addiction is painful and cruel to all involved. If you are battling it and need someone to listen, I am here. If you are fighting demons that tell you that you are not worthy, please know I will listen, I am here. There are support groups for all facets of addiction and for all involved. If you need pointers please let me know and I’ll do my best to share the knowledge I’ve accrued over the past few years.

Yesterday, I drew a line that has taken me far too long to draw. No contact. I have blocked and removed this tragic cycle of chaos from my life. I can no longer live that life. I want more for me and this is not my battle. I want to live fully. I want to explore and adventure. I want to do nothing. I know above all else, a life of addiction is something I don’t want. (Disclaimer: I’m fully aware there are many types of addictions – we all have addictive things. Just trying taking my coffee from me… But this is a level that I’ve never seen or experienced before and is a level of heartbreak and tragedy that deeply saddens me to know people live with this every day.)

Thought 2: I need to make things happen.
As I was journaling tonight, I stopped, got up, and grabbed a card from my dear Aunty in India. When I left, she wrote me these words:

Dearest Angie,
Infuse your life with action. Don’t wait for it to happen. Make it happen. Make your own future. Make your own hope. Make your own love. And, whatever your beliefs, honor your creator, not by passively waiting for grace to come down from upon high, but by doing what you can to make grace happen…..yourself, right now, right down here on earth.  It was great meeting you and Moksha. Will miss you all, but trust me you both will reside in my heart forever and my prayers too.

Love and Regards,
Pritha Aunty, 29^th April, 2019

As I think about starting this new phase in my life with my new, 90-days-in job, a new place to live on my old’ish turf, reuniting with so many dear friends and my family…. I have just spent the past 3 months since coming back trying to balance and sort life. To prioritize what I do and don’t want. I’m feeling that grounded sense of purpose and am ready. I’m ready to make it happen – to make my own future, hope and love I can hear Aunty telling me this. She has a slow, concise, thoughtful way of talking that transfixes my attention. I absolutely adore this woman and miss her dearly. We will meet again…

Thought 3: I want to find someone to do nothing with.
I think I’m ready to officially, properly date (how is that for a tangent!). And to be honest – I’ve never been a dater. The idea sounds absolutely, terribly awful. But I’m open to possibilities. One friend joked I should write a dating profile, but not post it to a dating site and instead post to my blog and let my friends crowd-source for me. It’s not the worst idea. 😉

Here is what has struck me though… having dinner last night with friends, I said I wanted someone to do things with. Lori told me you’ll know someone is right when you want to do nothing with them. F n’ A Cotton… that was profound. She even called me on the fact that I have so many friends here – I can go do something with someone any time I want. I’m very blessed in that regard. But to have someone I’d be content doing nothing with… now that might be the ultimate.

I can see my dating profile already:
Title: Il Dolce Far Niente (The Sweetness of Doing Nothing)
Is your perfect Friday night doing nothing? Does a Saturday doing nothing but watching college football (and cheering for my Cougs) bring you joy? Can we plan nothing over Labor Day weekend so we can go see Dave Matthews at the Gorge? Call me.

If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you’ll know I believe in manifesting the magic. I believe if I set the intentions that I will make it come to fruition. So, I’m putting it out there. I’m ready to find a healthy man that I can do nothing with. You all know me. You know what I’m about at my core. If you’re thinking, “I gotta guy…” Holla atcha girl. 😉

If you think I’m absolutely crazy, tell me that too! That is the beauty of wide open spaces.  And I’m thinking if I do go on any first dates, I will likely wear this:

Second date attire? Now I’m just cracking myself up! 😉

We sit at Cafe 115 at the Oakwood Residence in Hyderabad. It’s our last day here. Moksha gets picked up in about 4 hours, then I leave later in the night. This morning we did our morning walk at JOC (our apartment complex) and she did her final sniffs on the turf grass. We would sit here in the early morning before the temps got too hot and just be, then we’d come back in the later evening when the kids were gone and Mok could play ball.  

This morning, walking past the pool, I assumed she’d want to sit on the front steps of B Block to watch for friends. That is when she saw him… Saran had brought Iris our for his morning walk. She took off running, dragging me and the tightly-held leash behind her. One of Moksha’s favorite things to do was give Iris kisses. I even attempted to take a selfie with Piyu, Aura and the dogs a few days ago, and it was impossible. Between Mok trying to kiss me and Iris, it was a futile attempt that produced some really bad, but memorable pics.

So this morning as she saw him, she got to him and leapt into his face to give him kisses. It was the most pure form of love and goodbyes. She knew…I could see it on her face. There was joy that she got to do it her way, without all the humans trying to tell them what goodbye should look like.

 

Friendship comes in many beautiful forms. These two have been loyal to each other since they met. As the elder, she has been his protector. When it was time for a visit Mok would scratch at their front door to get their attention – her own form of a doorbell. They’ve had countless walks, they’ve sat and judged the other neighborhood dogs, they’ve learned how to get the annoying kids to leave them alone, and they’ve established their own form of communication between each other that is amazing to watch. I suppose that is the one lesson we have both learned. Language is never a barrier. We are all the same and we just have to be able to pay attention to others in order to understand them.

This was the best pic I could get of us. It is perfect. This has been my family here; we are forever grateful for the laughter, the buttermilk, treats (both human and dog), and most of all the friendship. We can’t wait to see them again.

 

 

On Tuesday, January 27, I dusted off my mountain bike (literally), pumped the tires up and headed out. It was a local holiday and I was off from work and feeling stir crazy being in my apartment, with no car and no desire to book another Uber and get asked, “American?” I wanted to feel normal and do something I would do at home – and see what adventure I could find on two-wheels.

I got about half-a-mile from my apartment all I could think was, “WHAT?!? Have you never seen a white girl on a mountain bike?!?” I realized the answer was no, but it didn’t make the shouting, cat calling and constant honking that happened as every motorcycle, tuktuk, semi-truck, Uber and car went by.  I climbed up a road that went to a distant “rock hill” I could see from my apartment. As I took the turns, winded, two men passed me on a motorcycle and yelled something I couldn’t understand. Then I came around the next corner and they were there, off their bike, and shouting some more. The only word I could make out was selfie. I think they wanted me to get off my bike, in the middle of nowhere, with no one else around, and take pictures with them. No chance in hell.

I got home and did two things:

1. Got on Amazon and ordered two cans of mace/pepper spray
2. Counted how many days I had been here. It was 90.

The VP I moved here to work for asked me for a 2.5 year commitment. It was why I sold my condo in Eugene, sold Dave, got rid of SOOO much stuff, and went light on the move. Yet that Sunday, I was feeling the fatigue of living here and I still had 640 days to go. The biking experience was on the heels of other challenges that I had encountered, but not shared on social media. Part of it was absorbing the learnings and taking in the challenges – part of it was not wanting to worry my family and friends.

Less than two weeks later, we had a team meeting with my manager and his direct reports. He announced that he had made the decision to retire. He said he’d be here through September, but in corporate land, you know to expect immediate shifts and changes with an announcement like this.

I hung up the phone and literally put my right hand over my heart and looked up. I wasn’t sure what or who I was looking at, but I needed the Universe to hear my acknowledgement. “Thank you. You heard me… that was faster than I could have ever hoped for.” I had realized the day before that I was learning through the discomfort, but that the challenges of being a female, single, and white, were obstacles I couldn’t overcome because it was who I am as a human  – and it was absolutely exhausting – on every level.

I already had a few trips to the US planned in February for work conferences, so I attended those and kept an open minded in reconnecting and possibly finding another opportunity that would get me home. The biggest lesson and a-ha for me was that I felt like me. I was in Seattle and I felt at home. I was in my own skin, people didn’t stare at me, and I knew when I needed the perfect restaurant to go to with my friend Sally, that Pink Door would be ideal. A few weeks later I was in Anaheim, and there I saw so many old colleagues… people that I loved working with and had deep respect for. It felt so damn good. I know it is work, but if you are going to feel home at work, a big handful of these folks were ones I’d want hanging at my house.

At the end of February, while in the US,  I reached out to somebody that I thought might be hiring a communications person, as she had recently taken on a new role. Now, three weeks later, I’m ecstatic to share that I have accepted the job she formally offered, and I will be moving back to the US and based in Seattle. If I had tried to plan this, it would have never happened. But now I’ll be close to a good portion of my family and so many dear friends. It has been 10 years since my ex-husband insisted, we leave Seattle and move to Vegas so he could be a poker pro. Now, I’m making the choice to go back home and it feels empowering and freeing. There are still a ton of logistics to still work through, but Moksha and I will be heading home, and we will be making a special road trip to pick up PennyG.

There were two travel experiences I wanted to do while I was here, so as soon as this all came to fruition I contacted a travel agent and booked both trips. I will be visiting:

• Varanasi (known as The City of Moksha and ehe living symbol of the Hindu renaissance, one of the holiest pilgrimages of Hindu religion). I will also go to Sarnath this weekend (one of the 4 Buddhist pilgrimage sites in the world, and where Buddha gave his first teachings after becoming enlightened) this weekend.
• Next weekend I will be in Bodhgaya, where Buddha attained enlightenment under the Bodhi tree.

This is my favorite guard at my apartment. He adores Mok and is incredibly kind to both me and Mamatha.

I’m soaking up every moment I can. I have so many stories and anecdotes I want to share about what it has been like here, but I’m still processing it. Some of it I’m still trying to understand. I want to make sure I respect the lessons and the people. I do know that I have made friends that I will keep for life. They will get carefully placed in my Precious People Medicine Cabinet, which is of course in the cloud, so that I carry them with me wherever I go.

So with that, thank you all for the loving support the past 5 months. Having the connections on social media, the text and WhatsApp messages, the video chats, the surprise cards in the mail… it has all made the experience easier for me, but I felt the love of so many.

The other day, my friend Tam shared a quote with me. She had no idea how perfect it was;

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” – Anthony Bourdain

Namaste.

 

 

This post is not me feeling sorry for myself – please know that. I’m not looking for sympathy, or pick-me-ups. I’m not, so don’t feel obligated to be kind. I’m just trying to be real and share the challenges that come with the amazing and unknown in this new life that I’m experiencing.

Today was hard. I finally just shut my laptop and walked away from it (literally and figuratively). I’m trying hard at work – I don’t tend to do things half-ass – and today felt like nothing was right. It ran the gamut from little to big, and me just finally knowing my tank was empty.

My lesson: I need to toughen up. I need to learn a new language and it isn’t Hindi. I need to learn to speak direct and to speak fact. I need to find a way to take the emotion out of what I do. (Part of me thinks this is exactly what I shouldn’t do, but I have to find a balance of being me, yet adapting to a new style of work.) I’m SUPER sensitive. I know this. I’ve blogged about my Highly Sensitive’ness and even talked about it to an auditorium full of people – this isn’t an epiphany for me. But being sensitive in a culture of directness and where blame/shame seem to be a go-to response from some, is hard for me. Really hard.

Coping Mechanism? Candles, a single glass of wine, music, & Moksha. I turned most of the lights off, had a small glass of wine left in a bottle from a few weeks ago (ick, I know, but it was $58USD for an ass-tasting bottle of wine that I can’t bring myself to dump), lit candles, and discovered Mumford & Sons new album finally came out this week.  I’m sitting with Moksha and listening. I’m being still. I’m trying to quiet my brain from stewing and fixing.

At work they have these Correction of Error (CoE) remediation plans when your scorecard is red. I think I need my own CoE to be very articulate in what will change moving forward. In full transparency, thick skin won’t be on the card, but it’s certainly on my mind. I know there are lessons surrounding me; I’m just not ready for them tonight.  I’m letting the sun set on this day and trusting I’ll get up tomorrow and new ways of doing better will reveal themselves.

I’m uncomfortable and I’m learning…exactly what I asked for. Huh.

**and for those who read these posts looking for a laugh, your reward for getting this far is a fun story below pic. 😊

I left the office last night and forgot the power cord to my laptop. I had 3 hours of meetings last night and was going to work from home today (Friday), but then I realized I didn’t have my power cord and was all frustrated trying to figure out what to do. I can’t just drive to work and I had told my driver I didn’t need a ride Friday. I considered Uber but that felt lazy, since the office is 2.4 kilometers, which is 1.5 miles one way.

My mind decide it would be a great morning walk. Only two streets to cross, which I knew I could do (although one was the famous Wipro Circle which is a complete cluster of lanes going all directions at once – I ran across the first time, but on the way back just dodged between scooters and tuk-tuks like a pro). I thought the walk would be enjoyable, but it completely sucked. The exhaust pollution is sooo bad that I finally covered my face towards the end with my sweatshirt because I couldn’t fathom what it was doing to my lungs. Next time I’m wearing a bandana and working on my bank robber look. I was almost home and took a quick stop at the coffee shop I’ve been frequenting to treat myself to a “I survived the walk-to-work latte.”