My Year of Hopefulness - Castles in the Air

"Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." ~ Henry David Thoreau

This is my 365th day of actively seeking out and writing about hope. This was my one New Year's Resolution for 2009: to feel more hopeful and record what I found here on this blog to help others feel more hopeful, too.

On this day last year, I had no idea that my life would look as it does today, in any respect. I can say with great confidence that this has been a year filled with more change than any other year I have had. Part of me wonders if that is actually my doing: did I precipitate all of this change or did the change just happen to me? I suspect it’s a mix of the two. I can also say with great confidence that today I feel exponentially more hopeful than I did one year ago. And I hope that these 365 blog posts have made others a little more hopeful, too. If so, then I achieved what I set out to do in my writing in 2009.

There are so many reflections I have on this year of writing about hope, so many things I’ve learned about myself, about others, about my community, and about the world as a whole. However, one revelation stands far above the others: when I actively, passionately search for something, I will inevitably find it because I will not give up until my task is done. And the truly remarkable thing is that yes, if I span the globe I can find millions of pieces of hope “out there”, though the pieces of hope that mean the most to me are with me all the time. I carry them inside of me.

Now what will I do next? I’ve got overflowing buckets of hope; how can they be put to the best use? My pal, Laura, asked me this question about two months ago while we were at dinner. Without missing a beat, I told her that for the next year I’d do one thing every day that used all that hope to build an extraordinary life. The answer just sprang from my mouth, no thought required. It was a wish my heart made.

So here we go: beginning tomorrow, I will write a post every day in 2010 that will describe the one thing I did that day that put me one tiny step (or one great leap) closer to living an extraordinary life. The wheels of change are well greased from the events of 2009, so I expect more big changes in 2010. My friend, Kelly, has had a mantra all year of “begin again in 2010.” She’s a wise woman, someone who is both a friend and a mentor, and I’m taking her advice.

The final thought I have as I close out this year relates to nature, a topic from which I’ve drawn a lot of hopeful examples. It’s a butterfly analogy, though not the stereotypical one of beautiful re-birth. When a tiny catepillar wraps itself up in a cocoon, it purposely constructs the cocoon to be very tight so that the butterfly has to struggle to emerge. It has to wiggle and turn and twist, completing exhausting itself inside the too-tight casing. There are oils on the inside of the cocoon and when the butterfly struggles the oils are distributed over its wings. It will not be able to free itself until the oils are distributed evenly over its wings. Those oils build a layer over the butterfly’s wings that keep the wings from breaking apart when it flies. Without the oil coating on its wings, the butterfly would break apart the moment it tried to fly.

I think about my own struggles, and the struggles of the world, through the lens of the butterfly. The twisting and turning is a painful process. It wears me out, and yet that struggle is so necessary to my development and success. I would never be able to fly without the distribution of its lessons throughout my life. I have struggled long enough and my struggles have done an excellent job of building up the foundation of my life. So let the flight begin toward my castles in the air.

My Year of Hopefulness - Visions and Plans

"How could a vision ever be given to someone to harbor if that person could not be trusted to carry it out? The message is simple: commitment precedes vision." ~ High Eagle

In San Jose, we stopped at an artisan market to buy gifts for family and friends back home. The market was filled with stalls that contained crafts of all kinds from coffee mugs to home goods to jewelry. I found some things for my family and purchased a journal for myself, of course, handmade from materials from a coffee plant. I am using it to write down my dreams for each part of my life. On this trip, a number of paths rolled out before me and I wanted to make sure to capture them as they revealed their many details.

In Costa Rica I found the space to breath and dream, the space to craft visions of what I want my life to be going forward. Bringing these dreams to life will take some short-term sacrifices, financially and personally, though the long-term pay off is well worth it. Realizing what I can live without has given me so much freedom. I don't feel weighted down by needs and wants. I feel lighter and feel that my life is both full and fulfilling. Many of the volunteers I worked with have taken this similar path, simplifying and downsizing their lives, taking a chance on big dreams. It was very inspiring and encouraging to be among them and to hear their stories. Like me, they were a little hesitant and a little scared, and they kept going anyway.

On the plane back to the U.S., I allowed my mind to wander. I didn't multi-task the way I have on every other flight I've ever been on. I simply started down one vision, turning over every stone, concentrating on all of the beautiful little details, and recording them in my coffee plant book. Within the pages of this book, I have put fear aside and written down my wildest aspirations without judging them in any way. I let the visions show up, knowing that High Eagle was absolutely right - of course I have the ability to bring them to life. If I'm committed to building a better life for myself and for others, then visions and the ability to make them my reality will follow. It is invigorating to be grounded in so much faith.

My Year of Hopefulness - You Get What You Give

"What I know for sure is that what you give comes back to you." ~ Oprah Winfrey

I'm off to Costa Rica tomorrow on a volunteer project with Cross-Cultural Solutions. A lot of people have asked me why I chose to do a volunteer vacation. Why would I spend my vacation working? There are several small reasons: I did a volunteer vacation in the south of France in 2005 and loved it, it's a great way to truly experience the culture of a new country, it's a fun way to travel alone without being alone, and I enjoy meeting new people more than I enjoy just about anything else. The true reason I'm volunteering on vacation? It's good for the world - Oprah's right, as usual. What we give comes back to us, and I would add that it comes back to us 10-fold.

Though I am volunteering to help others, truly it's me that I'm helping. I am certain that the Cross-Cultural Solutions program will teach me and help me far more than I could ever teach or help anyone else. It's an interesting fact about service - you go into it to help others and you're the one who ends up with the greatest benefit from the work. In theory, this doesn't make sense. In practice, it is most certainly true.

For the past few months I've heard a lot of people wishing out loud. They need a better job, a better place to live, better relationships, better health. They have spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to acquire these things, and I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I can help them. I wonder if service might be the best remedy for wishing.

I wonder if it's really true that what we seek for ourselves we can obtain by providing that very thing for someone else. Love, confidence, money, health, a positive outlook on life, trust, friendship, courage. Our list of wishes is never-ending, and therefore the number of opportunities for service is unlimited. How do our lives change if we take on the view "we only get what we give"? And in the process, how can this view change the whole world? I'll let you know if I find some answers in Costa Rica. Talk to you tomorrow from beautiful Cartago!

My Year of Hopefulness - Climb Up A Ways

One of the first Broadway shows I worked on was Cabaret at Studio 54. I would sit in the back of the theatre night after night and watch that story unfold, every show more beautiful than the show before. One of my favorite lines is from Herr Schultz (played by Ron Rifkin) to Fräulein Schneider (played by Blair Brown). Herr Schultz is trying to convince Fräulein Schneider to enter into a relationship with him, despite the fact that he is Jewish and the world is looking a little bleak for people of his heritage. He tells her that the apples at the base of tree are easy to pick up, though the fruit at the top of tree, if she is willing to climb up a ways, is so much sweeter. I worked on that show almost 11 years ago, and still I think of that line and how applicable it is to our lives every day.

I feel comfortable admitting in this blog post that very soon I will be moving on to a new position in my career. I've had an honest conversation with my boss and explained my intentions. I hope she understands. At the end of the day, the future of her team that she's laid out is just not what gets me going. I completely understand that she's in charge of the team and has every right to change the direction of the bus. My obligation is to decide whether or not to whole-heartedly get on the bus. I've decided to actively look for a new bus, and there are some stupendous options on the horizon.

Some people think I'm a little crazy for making this move. I've done a lot of good work in my position; I've built solid relationships that would serve me so well and get me promoted quickly. If only I could put my head down, keep my mouth shut, and phone it in just the way that I've been scripted, I'd be just fine. I could coast right through to the end of this recession no matter how long it lasts.

Those who know me a bit better just smile and nod when I say I'm looking for new opportunities that get me up out of bed in the morning. They know I'm not built for coasting. Yes, coasting is much easier in that it requires no exertion on my part. The trouble is that for me coasting is just an unbearable existence. Putting the pedal to the metal and 'trying to get up that great big hill of hope' is more my style. Herr Schultz was right: The vistas up there are so much wider and more open and beautiful. Fräulein Schneider didn't know what she was missing.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Invitation

I am still sort of getting my new home set up. I’m having a hard time getting myself entirely set up. I’m sure this is being brought on by some left over emotional fall-out from the fire. I suppose I’m scared and worried that all of this will just got up in smoke again, literally. On Friday night, after a very long tough week, I rounded the corner to my apartment building to find my street littered with fire trucks and flashing lights and big brawny fire fighters in their gas masks and black and yellow suits. Pre-September 5^th, my first thought upon seeing this kind of scene was “I hope everyone is okay.” On Friday night, my first thought was “not again”. As Dinah Washington said, “What a difference a day makes.”

The fire on Friday wasn’t in my apartment building, it was across the street, and no one was hurt. I asked the fire fighters. I went upstairs to my apartment grateful that everything was still the exact way I left it Friday morning. Just inside my front door, there’s a piece of art that I read every morning. It’s a poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, an Indian Elder, which I wrote out many years ago in my nicest penmanship on fancy paper. It was one of the few things to survive my apartment building fire, and I am sure that is not a coincidence.

There are a few lines in this poem that have really effected me as of late:

Can you disappoint others to be true to yourself?

Can you stand in the centre of your sorrow and still shout at the great Silver Moon, “yes!”?

Do you like the company you keep in the empty moments?

Being true to yourself:

This can manifest in our careers, relationships to others, in how we spend our free time. It’s hard work to be true to ourselves, it’s tough for us to get over the guilt of what we think we owe to others. And too often we disappoint ourselves for the sake of others. In truth, we let people down even more when we aren’t authentic, when we feign happiness instead of actually being happy.

Stand in the centre of our sorrow:

Disappointments and sadness are a part of life. I’ve known people who deal with their sadness by using it as fuel for creating happiness. I consider all of my friends who have recently lost their jobs and used their job loss as an opportunity to do something they’ve always wanted to do. These are the people who shout “yes”, yes to the goodness of life, even if life at that very moment is not very good at all. These are the people who keep me feeling hopeful in times that seem so bleak. They are my inspiration.

Unfortunately, I’ve also known people who use their sadness and disappointment as a way to make themselves and everyone around them miserable. These are people who can’t commit, who can’t seem to build healthy relationships, and as a result feel constantly alone and disconnected. They stand in the middle of their sorrow and sulk. Temporary sulking is okay – we all need to sulk once in a while. We just can’t let it get the best of the us.

The empty moments:

Someone who smiles when no one around is a person who is truly happy. These are the people I want in my life, people who like their own company. My friend, Ken, is someone I look to as this example. Ken could spend all day in his house by himself and have the best day of his life. He is someone who loves the empty moments.

Below is Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s poem, The Invitation. I hope it helps you as much as it has helped me for so many years:

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."

My Year of Hopefulness - The Healthcare Future I'd Like to See

Yesterday was my first visit to my new general practitioner. My doctor retired about a year ago and I wasn't crazy about him anyway so I needed to find a new one. A friend of mine referred me to his doctor. The wait for an appointment with him was a bit long, though my friend assured me that he was the best. I can wait a bit for the best.

I went in to get my annual physical and to have my breathing checked. (The Red Cross had mentioned to me that after the apartment building fire, I should have my lungs checked just to make sure that everything is clear.) I expected to be in the waiting room for about 30 minutes for a routine physical that included about 5 minutes with the doctor. Instead, my doctor picked me up in the waiting room, exactly at my appointment time, with an extended hand and a smile. We spoke for about 20 minutes as he put my medical history into his computer in his office. I had the opportunity to ask him questions and tell him about any health concerns I have.

Then we went to a room that adjoined his office where he measured my weight, height, blood pressure, etc. He checked my breathing, my internal organs, and gave me my flu shot. The doctor. I will be the first person to stand up for nurses and say that they are underpaid, under appreciated, and overworked. And I will also say that it was very refreshing to have a doctor performing the mundane tasks of a check-up.

I told him about my upcoming trip to Costa Rica to make sure I didn't need any additional vaccines. Turns out that he volunteered in the hospital in the center of the small town where I will be volunteering. What are the odds? He gave me a name of a restaurant his friend owns that I should visit, told me about a few museums and a theatre I should go to, and gave me the contact info for a nearby spa and beach that are also worth checking out. Then he handed me a card with his cell number and email address and told me that I should contact him at any time with any questions or concerns I have. "And please let me know how the trip goes," he said. And he meant it. I thought I stepped into a healthcare time warp. A doctor was actually taking his time and showing concern and compassion for me as a person, not just me as a patient.

This gives me great hope for healthcare. This is proof that it is possible to deliver quality, empathic care, even for procedures like routine physicals. I recognize that I am one of the fortunate people in this country to have high-quality health insurance and access to top care. What I didn't realize is that it is still possible in this day and age to deliver care with great concern.

Too often we are held at a distance from our medical doctors. We are seen as case studies and medical files and a combination of numbers and statistics. My doctor's visit was different. It was compassionate and delivered with real care for the whole person. In other words, it's exactly what medical delivery should be, not just in this country for those with a high income, but for everyone, everywhere.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Tony

“Abundance comes not from stuff. In fact, stuff is an indication of non-abundance. Abundance is in the sacred; it's in the connection of love. We will find abundance through hard times when we find each other.” ~ Rebecca Adamson

I fell in love with Tony 8 years ago at first sight. To date, it was the most immediate reaction I’ve ever had to anyone. Two and a half years later, after about 1,000 ups and downs, we parted ways romantically, not because we didn’t love each other but because Tony didn’t love himself as much as I loved him.

I rarely talk about my romantic life on this blog, mostly because I keep those relationships extremely private. This one though has taught me so much that I know will help others and so I’m taking a risk here and putting a little more of my heart into my writing than I have ever done. Tony taught me a lot, more than anyone else I've ever been in a relationship with, and these lessons should be re-told.

To date, he is the only person who sends me text messages around 4:00am exclusively. I never reach him or hear from him during the day or even at a reasonable hour in the evening. We just don’t work that way. He’s a night owl, a serious night owl. Usually I don’t get his text messages until the morning on my way to work. Last night I happened to be awake when my phone buzzed, and of course it was Tony.

“I’m still not happy in my career. The only difference is that I’m not hating me anymore…just what I let myself lose.” Now, I don’t think he’s referring to me at all when he talks about what he lost. I think he’s talking about time and effort and energy lost to a career he doesn’t like and really never wanted. He just never thought he deserved anything better. By not liking himself for so long, Tony lost a lot of his life.

I smiled when I read his message this morning. Not because Tony lost a lot of years of his life – that I will always think is tragic. I smiled because finally, finally, finally all the love I felt for him, he now has for himself, and that’s all I ever really wanted for him. He is a good, good man with a good, good heart. He’s kind and generous and brilliant. And for so many years, I wanted him to see himself the way that I saw him. No matter what I did, nothing worked. So I let him go. In the end, there was no other choice. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see what I saw. Now, he does.

I wrote back to him, “T – I am so happy for you. You are on the right path. And it’s never too late to make a change. Xo” I meant this – every word of it. I’d like to believe that somewhere along the line all the love I gave him helped him in his journey. I’d like to believe that me being in his life helped him flip the switch from self-loathing to self-loving. I’d always like to believe that love, when given freely and in abundance makes a difference eventually. That love, unrequited or not, is never for naught.

I thought of him all day today - of so many good times and so many not-so-good times. I thought about who I was then and what I wanted then, and how much that has changed. I thought of all the things about him that made me smile, and those things still make me smile. What's amazing about my journey with Tony, though so long ago, is that all the hurt I felt upon leaving isn't there anymore. Somehow all the hurt faded, and only the good stuff remains. Even the bad times just don't seem so bad when placed side-by-side with all the happy and wonderful times we had. I hope he feels the same way. Our hearts and memories are funny, malleable things, and for that I'm grateful.

Tony showed me how much love my heart could hold. This is a powerful lesson. As much as I fell in love with Tony, just as he was, I fell even more in love with his potential. I used to regard falling in love with potential as a waste. Today, I changed my mind on that thanks to him.

Potential might be more worthy of love than anything else. Potential is hope. Potential is something to look forward to. Potential keeps us looking up and working toward a better tomorrow, toward bettering ourselves. My love for Tony’s potential was not a waste at all; it’s a remedy that he eventually used to build a better life for himself.

He gave me so much and now I finally feel like I was able to return the favor. Even though it didn't work out for us in the long-run, I regard my time with me him as precious. I am nothing but honored and privileged to have been a small part of his healing.

The image above is not my own. I love it though, and found it here.

My Year of Hopefulness - How a Dime Makes a Difference with a FEED 100 Bag

I arrived home last night to my ordinary neighborhood after a mostly ordinary day at the office. I walked down a few blocks to Whole Foods with the intention of picking up dinner and going back to my apartment to watch NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams – one of my favorite weeknight activities. (Nerdy, I know. I can’t help it. I’m addicted to the news, and I love the “Making a Difference” segment.)

After filling up my little basket, I headed to the cash register where the woman who was ringing up my groceries asked if I’d like to buy a FEED 100 Bag, a reusable shopping bag made from 100% organic cotton and sustainable burlap. Hmmm…I had seen these before though wasn’t totally sure what the deal was. They used to be $30. They’re now $10, and wait until you hear what they do!

For $10, you provide 100 hungry children in Rwanda with a nutritious school meal through the UN World Food Program (WFP). A single dime per child. 400,000,000 children go to bed every night hungry. And that pain of hunger is devastating. I know first hand. When I was a kid, we struggled financially and my brother, sister, and I often went to bed hungry, and scared, and feeling alone. We had free and reduced-price lunch for most of my childhood and I can guarantee that this program was one of the huge blessings that saved me. Literally. With that meal, I was able to pay more attention to my studies, which earned me good grades, which helped me to go college and graduate school, which helped me build a good, successful life.

A lot of people look at school statistics like “75% of children at this school receive free lunch” and see it as just that – a statistic. A number on an Excel spreadsheet. When I see these numbers, I see me, and my brother, and my sister, and a lot of people in my hometown who grew up just like us. This tiny contribution of $10 makes a difference, I assure you.

I arrived home from an ordinary day and I had the opportunity to do something extraordinary. A very small act that will make a very big difference. I helped 100 kids around the world have a chance to follow in my same path to happier, healthier days. You can, too. FEED 100 Bags are available at Whole Foods nationwide.

My Year of Hopefulness - Owning Pink's Tribute

I usually only publish one hopeful inspiration per day on this blog. Today is special for a lot of reasons, so I'm publishing two.

One month ago today, my apartment building caught fire, and set off a month of changes in my life that I never saw coming. Quite, frankly, none of them were changes I wanted. They were uncomfortable, sad changes that made me question everything in my life. Everything. One month ago today, at this very moment, I ran out of my burning building, fire crackling underneath my kitchen floor. I was standing on the street with nothing but my keys, watching my building burn. I was crying, scared, and alone. And much to my surprise, I emerged from this month, today, a stronger, happier, more confident person than I ever was before.

So it is with such heart-felt thanks I wanted to pay a big Pink tribute to a group of women who are one of the very best parts of my life. Today my lovely friends, Lissa and Joy, over at Owning Pink, an on-line community I belong to, honored me by making one of my recent blog posts, a letter I wrote to October, their mainstage story. I barely know what to say. I had no idea that my little post would inspire such beautiful writing from others women whom I respect and admire so much. I cried when I read the story that Joy and Lissa wrote about my post. I really don't have any words to tell them how honored and fortunate I feel to have them in my life.

Today I realized with clarity how much good we have to offer by sharing our stories. One of my favorite quotes is by Isak Dinesen: "All sorrows can be borne if you can put them into a story." I am living proof of this. As the telling of our stories frees us, they also allow others to free themselves through their own writing. The ladies of Owning Pink also made me realize without a doubt that I can make a go-of-it as a full-time writer. It's a gift that I am not sure how to repay.

Owning Pink is a community I am so fortunate to be a part of. They have gone above and beyond the call for me during the last few weeks of my life that have been so difficult. Their love and support is a gift in my life that I truly cherish and I look forward to being there for them in the months and years ahead. Here's to a beautiful, enlightened October for all of us!

To view the story on Owning Pink's website please visit:
http://www.owningpink.com/2009/10/05/mojo-monday-exercise-write-a-letter-to-october/

The Journal of Cultural Conversation - Pray the Devil Back to Hell

Exciting news over in TJCC-land! Laura, my brilliant friend and writing partner as well as the mastermind behind The Journal of Cultural Conversation, is working on a front-end re-design for the site that will be up within the week. We're also working on a re-branding effort as well, though again, Laura must take 99% of the credit here. I'm just lucky to have a role on the virtual stage next to her.

My latest post on TJCC is up today! I was on a brief hiatus as I dealt with some personal issues and am now back, fully present. This one is about the documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell and it goes something like this:

“There will come a time when you believe that everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” ~ Louis L'Amour

A few weeks ago I attended a screening of Pray the Devil Back to Hell, a documentary that tells the story of the how the women of Liberia ended the civil war that ravaged their country for well over a decade. Donning identical white t-shirts, no weapons, 2500+ women linked arms and made their opinions and demands known, loudly and publicly, week after week, until Charles Taylor and the warlords sat down together.

For my full post about this film, please visit http://www.thejcconline.com/2009/10/pray-devil-back-to-hell.html

My Year of Hopefulness - A letter to October

Sweet October,

Thank you for arriving. I had enough of September and all the trouble she brought my way. A fire that threatened to trap me inside, claiming my home and most of my belongings with smoke, and then lost my dear sweet dog. A sad, sad month.

Now you've arrived and I'm so glad to see you, old friend. You are my favorite month because you bring the start of my very favorite season - holiday time. On Halloween two of my very good friends will be getting married and I'll be celebrating with them as a beautiful and joyous way to kick off these last few months of the year.

Even better, you'll bring a visit from my sister, my very best friend, along with my brother-in-law, and toddling niece who is one of the greatest joys of my life. We'll go up to see the rest of my family where we can pick apples and pumpkins and run through corn mazes together. We'll laugh together and play together and cook together. It's a vacation I need so much as this heart of mine sets about healing itself and my soul takes a much needed break from the events of September.

And let's not forget the vibrant, bold colors you decorate all of the trees with. Soon I'll be jogging underneath a great umbrella of gold and orange and red, thankful for the cool breezes that rustle the leaves and clear my head. My mind is weary and it needs to see nothing but beauty to right itself again.

Taking inspiration from your expert paint palette, I begin this month at the very bottom of my own blank canvas. I imagine that I'm very small and the canvas is very big. I'm looking up at it, holding my paint brush with so many gorgeous colors to choose from. I'll dab a little here, and dab a little there, only the colors that make me happiest, painting only the things that make my heart sing. October, you will witness someone shining through the sadness and disappointment and frustration and loss. Someone rejuvenated and smiling. And that someone will be me.

Thank you for coming to my rescue. Thank you for welcoming me in with a warm hug and a kind and understanding ear. Thank you for letting me lay down my troubles at your feet and walk on through your days to live my best life yet. I promise I'll repay you with a painting more magnificent than anything I ever thought these two small hands of mine could make.

My Year of Hopefulness - Lunch with God

On Monday afternoon, I got angry. Throughout the day I found myself running into the ladies room for short spurts of tears, and then cleaned myself up and returned to my desk. I don’t like to work this way but the heavy load demands it at the moment. In the shower this morning, as I was crying, again, over the loss of our family dog, I started to shake my head in disbelief. How could the Universe let this happen?

At lunch time, I went to my favorite little sandwich shop and took a seat in Trinity Churchyard near Alexander Hamilton. I've been going to Trinity a lot during lunch lately. Last night I didn't sleep too well and I thought a walk over to Trinity might help me clear my head. And then something very odd happened, as if Hamilton's feisty spirit and his inability to ignore injustice inspired me. I was tearing up behind my sunglasses and then this burst of anger came to the forefront of my mind. It was a little un-nerving because I am not at all an angry person by nature. Anger, mine or anyone else’s, makes me very nervous. Without being able to stop it, I began to have a stern conversation with God, silently.

“I really hope you’re happy because now you’ve really done it. You have screwed up royally here. It wasn’t enough to have my apartment building catch fire, have me almost get trapped inside, and then destroy most of my belongings with smoke. You had to take my dog, too? Really? You must be really proud of yourself up there, divine and content, messing with all of us down here. My sister’s crying. My brother-in-law’s crying. I’m crying. I accept that most of the losses that I’ve had in my life were timely. Sebastian’s was not. He was only 7! Our last dog lived to be 17! A full decade longer! I hate to say it, God, but you were wrong on this one. Completely wrong. I must emphatically disagree with you; it was not Sebastian’s time yet. You pulled the plug on him way too early and I’m really pissed off at you for that. We needed some more years with him. He deserved some more years with us. I really hope the next time something like this comes up, you think a little bit harder about what you’re doing. And by the way, I have had more than my fair share of sadness this month. Actually, I’ve had enough for the remainder of the year, maybe for the remainder of the next few years so you are really going to have to back off. I’m sick of going through boxes of tissues in a day. I’m sick of feeling disappointed and sad and frustrated and scared. There’s a big ol’ lesson in all of this for me. I get it. I hear you. 'Nothing is permanent.' Fine. 'We have to be flexible.' Got it. 'We need to accept that with great love must also come great loss.' Check. 'Some days, we’re the pigeon and some days we’re the statue.' I understand that, and I’m telling you I’ve reached my quota of statue days. Enough!”

And then I let out a big, big sigh. I looked over at Alexander Hamilton, and then around at the other people sitting near me having lunch. And though my thoughts just now raged inside my mind, it seems that no one else heard me. Except God. He heard me. I knew he did, and I think he’s a little ashamed of his recent behavior toward me. And he should be. The piling up of this month’s events was really uncalled for. Whew – that was scary but it felt great. I needed to get that out.

As I got back onto Broadway and headed North, I found my smile again. I even laughed a little. I just yelled at God – really yelled at him. (I’ve never yelled at anyone like that ever. Actually, I can’t even remember the last time I raised my voice. I was probably a teenager!) Tiny little me, 5’2”, 110-pound me, just yelled at the Creator of the Universe. And he listened. He didn’t try to deny my grief or anger or sadness. He didn’t try to make it better or soothe my weary mind. He showed up and just listened. He eeked out a very small “I’m sorry” and I whispered back “I accept your apology.”

We have a funny relationship, God and I. Throughout my life I have at times adored him and doubted him. Sometimes I have flat out walked away and left him in the dust. And then I realized that I wanted him back, and when I peeked around the corner of faith again, a little embarrassed that I stormed off, there he was. Right where I left him. Waiting patiently, just like Sebastian would wait for us to get home. They're more alike than I realized. Animals are more virtuous that we recognize - they might be the closest we ever get to a holy presence on Earth. I think God and I are going to be okay now. And I think Sebastian is okay, too.

As I got closer to my office, I felt that awful terrible weight from Sunday lift off my heart slightly. It’s still there. I got over my apartment and belongings going up in smoke, though I really miss Sebastian, and always, always will. I miss knowing that he’s not in the world anymore. That I won’t be able to hug him again, or take him for a walk, or rub his cute little belly. I would have liked just one more hug, and sadly that wish will not be fulfilled until I cross over to where he is now. Waiting for us, as he always was here on Earth. God better make sure Sebastian’s up there, well taken care of, and ready for me to take him for his walk when we all get back together again.

My friend, Amy, is a conflict resolution and trauma expert. I spent a long time on the phone with her on Sunday night, talking through what I’ve been feeling this month. She refers to this process of grief as the glass of water analogy. We can think of difficult times as being a specific amount of water and ourselves as glasses. Each time we encounter something difficult, the respective amount of water gets poured into our glass. I could have dealt with any one of the sad circumstances from this month, but putting them all together within 3 weeks' times was just too much and my glass has overflowed with sadness.

The overflow happens sometimes, and as my pal, Laura, said to me "it sucks and it's okay to feel like it sucks for a while." Eventually the only thing to do is to sop up the excess water and start to empty our glass, even it’s just one little teaspoon at a time. The love and support from my friends and family this month has been such an amazing source of strength, and they're helping me bail out the water from my glass. It’s going to take me a little time to get that glass emptied but I am 100% committed to getting it done. Alison Krauss, one of my favorite musicians, sings a song that goes “Just get me through December, A promise I’ll remember, Get me through December, So I can start again.” Her December is my September, and I am almost through it. After a very long, sad month, I feel like I’m moving in the right direction.

The photo above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Unwitting Angels

I believe in guardian angels, divine moments of intervention, and the continuous play between the world we see and the world just beyond our vision. While I do believe that angels walk among us, I also believe that we have the ability, at every moment, to be angels to one another.

In the aftermath of the fire in my apartment building, there is a lot of chaos. I am now dealing with adjusters from my renter's insurance. (Thank God I have renter's insurance. If you don't, please stop reading this post and by it immediately through Liberty Mutual at http://www.libertymutual.com. A $181 annual premium buys you $25,000 worth of coverage with a $500 deductible.) I also have buyer's protection on my charge card so I need to make an inventory for them so I can be reimbursed for damaged items. I have to find a new place to live. I'll have to rebuild a stock of personal items.

And you know what? It's all okay. I am monumentally lucky to be alive and physically unscathed. Much of that is due to the amazing love and support and concern of my friends and family, from people who read my online writing and follow my usually fun antics on Twitter. This is the power of community. This is the power of unwitting angels - people who show up as little rays of light just when we need that light most. It's always there, it sometimes just takes a different lens of experience to see it.

My friend, Amber, one of my unwitting angels in this situation, has graciously offered me her apartment for the week while she's out of town. I came to pick up the keys from her, and we got to talking about how incidents like my apartment building fire change our perspective. She thinks I will quickly adopt the policy of "omeletitgo" - I'm just gonna let it all go. From this point forward, all those little frustrations and annoyances that build up in our day to day lives just don't matter. The physical stuff we accumulate just doesn't matter. If all goes up in smoke, it doesn't matter.

All that does matter is kindness. How do we support and love and care for one another in good times and bad? How can we help those in crisis? How can we serve one another to make all of our days a bit easier? How can we all be a part of the global brigade of unwitting angels?

The image above is not my own and can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Jane Goodall

Tonight I went to 92Y to hear Jane Goodall, one of the people I admire most. Today she released a new book, Hope for Animals and Their Endangered World. It's been 49 years since Jane began her landmark study about chimpanzees in the Gombe National Park. She was a 26 year old woman, had never attended university, grew up in a family with very few financial resources, and attempted to document the intimate details of the lives of these animals when she had no formal training on how to do this work. I read one of her many previous book, Reason for Hope, about 10 years ago. Tonight she seemed even more hopeful about the fate of the world and our ability to reverse so much of the damage we've done.

Jane writes, speaks, and works for hope. "Without hope, there's no action," she said. "My job is to give people hope." And in the next breathe she talked about the rapid melting of the ice caps and the immense negative impact we've had on our planet in a few short decades. Some times, like all of us, she loses heart and becomes overwhelmed with all that we have to do to improve the world.

"So in the face of all that's negative in the world," Howard Gardner, the moderator asked, "how can you remain so hopeful?"

"Well, there are several simple reasons," Jane said:

1.) We have amazing brains that are very good at problem-solving, and they get even sharper when we have our backs against the wall and we need to solve a seemingly impossible problem. Individuals take action. In England, just today, there is a program that started called 10 10. It's aim is for individuals and companies to reduce their carbon footprint by 10% in 2010. I'd like to see that spread and become a worldwide effort.

2.) Nature is resilient. If we give it time, it grows back.

3.) Young people have so much courage. Take the Roots & Shoots program we have. It is about young people getting together and taking action to do amazing things in the world.

4.) The human spirit is indomitable. Look at Nelson Mandela. 17 years in hard labor prisons, and he comes out still able to forgive.

I found her hope contagious. She has spent her entire life planting seeds within people she meets, encouraging them to action, and setting an example for the extraordinary things we can all do with our lives. Most of all, I was touched an inspired by her approach to her work and her life. She always approaches everything from a place of love. Her one dream in her life was to work with animals. A very simple cause that live in the heart, not the head. She spent so much time with the chimps in Gombe National Park because she loved them, not because they were some scientific experiment. She cared deeply about their welfare, and wanted to share their story with others.

I've always looked to Jane as an activist, as someone with a lot of courage and confidence, who braved the world of science for our benefit. What I did not realize until tonight is what a strong example she is for young women. When she was 11, she dreamed of traveling to Africa and working with animals there. Her school friends laughed at her, and yet the strong women who comprised her household encouraged her to dream as big as she good and then go after those dreams. In her work with animals, she's made all of us more human. She's connected us to create a global community of deeply committed, concerned participants.

After an extensive Q&A session, Howard Gardner took one more audience question: "Jane, how do you reconcile science and religion?" She sighed slightly and closed with a brilliant line that will ring in my head for days to come. "I wish we would stop worrying about how we came to and come together to figure out how we're going to get our of this mess we've gotten ourselves into." Jane's been trying to figure this out for a long time - she's dedicated her life to this cause - and it's about time we all join her.

To learn more about the Jane Goodall Institute (JGI), click here. In 2010, a new movie, Jane's Journey, will be released. It chronicles Jane's remarkable life and career.

The photo above depicts Jane Goodall and is taken her the JGI website.

My Year of Hopefulness - Hope Grows

Today I went to the New Museum of Contemporary Art with my friend, Allan. There's a South African photography exhibit by David Goldblatt on display there that I wanted to see. On the third floor, the photographs are dire. "Is all of South Africa a desert, Christa?" Allan asked me. In the photos the land has been reduced to rubble, laid barren by years of struggle and negligence. "Where is the hope?" Allan asked.

We then made our way up to the fourth floor where there were a series of before and after photographs. Barren land had regrown some. South Africa seemed a little more green, not teeming with life, though certainly much improved. I felt a small flicker of hope.

I went to South Africa about 2 years ago and though I had a series of unfortunate incidents, I also had a set of really incredible circumstances that endeared me to that country and its people. I'm sure I'll return some day soon. While there seems to be no hope in the structures of shanty towns that can be found throughout the country, there is a great deal of strength and ambition in the eyes of South Africans. They seem to always be looking up and over, at something brighter and better in the distance.

The handful of before and after photographs got me to thinking about how hope and life can regenerate without any outside influence. The first law of thermodynamics involves the conservation of energy and it states that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. In Einstein's Theory of Relativity, he reveals to us that while the first law of thermodynamics holds true, energy can transform into mass, and vice versa. As I viewed the photos of South Africa, particularly the before and after photos, I thought about Einstein's theory and how it applies to broader circumstances outside of science.

It seems to me that the re-growth of life, mass, could be due to the fact that energy, hope, cannot be created nor destroyed. It just is, then, now, and always. While it may change forms and go into hiding from time to time, we can be sure that it is always there, available to us if only we have the insight to recognize it.

My Year of Hopefulness - Is Human Connection More Powerful than Prayer?

"The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart." ~ Buddha

How often do we raise our eyes to the sky and ask for help? I find myself doing that from time to time. Today I got word from a partner of mine on one of my projects that we are facing some critical obstacles. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. "Pray," she said. "Lots."

Now, I know she's doing much more than praying. She's actually working her tail off, jumping through dozens of hoops to keep us moving forward. I find that with any trying circumstance, the default solution is to pray. But what are we really doing when we pray? What am I doing as I go to my yoga mat in times of distress? What am I asking for and who am I asking it of?

Maybe prayer is better directed not up towards the sky, out of our reach. Perhaps it's much more powerful if we turn in and not out. When I go to my yoga mat and create an intention for my practice, I'm asking for help and guidance and assurance. I'm tapping into my creative well. I'm actually searching for my soul and its wisdom. It's an overwhelming idea if I think about it too long. Can we actually tap into the energy and light around us, all around us, by looking in?

My experience has demonstrated than the answer to this question is a resounding 'yes'. Yoga and Buddhism have some basic tenants that I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, especially during difficult times: 1) the world will provide us the exact learning that we need at the exact moment that we need it and 2) to tap into the energy around us we must recognize that while we live in this world, we are not of it. Our souls are old. They have been through many trials. They are the ties that bind us to one another. They have knowledge far beyond what we carry within our minds and our own limited experiences. Meditation, yoga, or any other contemplative practice bring that soul knowledge to our consciousness.

While in Virginia, I used to teach yoga classes at my business school. They were my small way of making the stress that all of us felt in our studies a bit more manageable. (This Winter I'll begin my 500 hours certification process. It will be a long road, though one I have wanted to be on for some time now.) I would close each class with a simple statement to my students that a teacher of mine used to use: "the light that is in me, honors that the light that is in you." I've found that connecting with people, one heart to one heart right here on the ground, has brought me more lasting joy and peace than raising my eyes and prayers to the sky. I have more faith in us and what we can do together, here and now, than I do in anything else.

The image above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Marking time

Today is my one year anniversary at my job. Where did the time go? Oh right - into about 25 projects that I've worked on since I started! When I consider everything I've learned - about the company, the job, the industry, myself, it seems impossible that all of that could have been compressed into one year.

One year ago today, I attended a new hire orientation. A series of company leaders came into the room to speak with us and one of them said something that really stuck with me. He asked us to go up the elevator to our desks every morning with one simple question always at the top of our minds: what am I going to do to help someone live an extraordinary life today? I took that to heart, and I can say with complete honesty that I've started every day that way. It's been a tumultuous year for this country - that elevator question helped me hang on during the most challenging times to help me not only survive, but thrive. And it helped me help others do the same.

So now I begin year two, every bit as hopeful and curious as I was at the start of year one. The unintended, and happy, consequence of helping others to live an extraordinary life is that it makes our own lives extraordinary in the process. I hadn't consciously realized that until today when I looked around my office to see all the positive change that's taking place right before our eyes. And I played a part. A small one, but certainly a part. And for that I am extremely grateful. We really do get what we give.

The photo above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Let's Get a Little Crazy

"We would not be where we are if our ancestors had not been kind of crazy." ~ Edward Tenner, historian of technology and culture

I'm part way through the cover story for this week's issue of Business Week, Case for Optimism. One of the people who worked on the story asked me and 12 other readers to take a look around our neighborhoods to provide examples of why we feel optimistic about the future. The quote above appears toward the beginning of the article, and references a very positive outcome of economic downturns: if we can look past the gloom and doom, we'll find that economic downturns give us the freedom to get a little crazy. In other words, they give of the freedom to pursue our biggest dreams. Bill Gates and Paul Allen started Microsoft in the midst of a recession. Same goes for Steve Jobs and many others whom we now hold us as some of the most successful thought-leaders of our time.

When the world goes haywire and we lose our footing and live to tell the tale, something inside of us shifts. All of a sudden we realize that the leap we just made, whether by our own volition or not, didn't kill us. We're encouraged to take another, slightly larger leap, and then another. Before you know it, we can't contain ourselves. We realize that the biggest risk is not taking a chance on our dream; it's being paralyzed by fear and never pursuing the dream at all.

So here we go - off into the great unknown with a heavy, though hopeful, heart. We're in the midst of a grieving process. Long gone are the fat times of real estate always being a sound investment and Wall Street being the dream of every bright, ambitious college graduate. We're bidding a fond farewell to life on Easy Street, welcoming in a new era of innovation and creativity that our ancestors, the ones who got a little crazy, would be proud to acknowledge as their legacy.

There will be some bumps and bruises along the way, some near-term and long-term. We may have our dreams fall down in mid-flight, and we'll have to get new dreams. The resilience we are building today will serve us well tomorrow, and for many tomorrows to come. My bet's on us.

My Year of Hopefulness - Disappointment as Fuel for Change

"We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope." ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

I'm now nearly 7 months through my 1 year commitment to actively search for hope every day and write about it. I'm in the thick of it and the remaining months of 2009 seem to be just around the bend. This is the side effect of working in a retail-focused business: I'm always one step ahead of myself because the industry I work in demands it. Looking for hope is sometimes an easy task and sometimes a game of hunt and peck. Some days I struggle to find something hopeful and positive, and other days it seems that the world is awash with hope, so much so that it's hard to take it all in and stay still long enough to write about it. It's these latter days that I try to focus on most.

I've become a fan of daily email delivery of my favorite blogs. I get why tools like Google Reader are valuable; I just prefer to use my gmail inbox as my to-do list. (Thank you, David Pogue, for that insight on email in-boxes!) And I like the idea that my favorite writers are sending me little bits of wisdom directly, or at least I feel like they're sending them to me directly. Daily Good, a blog that posts a daily story about some piece of goodness in the world, is one of my favorites. Their stories always begin with a quote, and it's responsible for many of the quotes that populate my "food for thought" section in the right side bar of this blog.

This week Daily Good posted up the quote above from Martin Luther King, Jr. He could have easily made the quote "We must accept disappointment, but we must never lose hope." Still powerful, still emotional, still inspirational. Instead, he chose to talk about finite disappointment and infinite hope, and link the two together. In my 7 months of writing about hope, I have found disappointment. More than I would have liked.

Just this week, I decided I had accepted enough disappointment. I'd reached the finite limit that Dr. King spoke about and then decided that I could no longer wait to do what I really wanted to do. With the help of some friends who help me think clearly, who help to bolster me up when I get a little bit down, I made a plan to turn all of my attention to what I hope to achieve and away from what's disappointed me. The hope was there all along, even through the disappointment. I just wasn't seeing it. We can all do a lot more than hope for a change; there will be no grand arrival and entrance of change. It's always there - we need only reach out and grab a hold of it.

My Year of Hopefulness - Jack and Suzy Welch

I never thought I'd say that Jack and Suzy Welch give me hope. Sound business advice. Straight talk about tough issues. A dissenting opinion. Yes, yes, and yes. But hope? Pure, empathic hope? Yep. Believe it.

In their recent BusinessWeek column, Jack and Suzy Welch not only gave me hope, but they made me tear up. They talk about the entrepreneurs all over this country who are about to emerge as the bright shining light to lead us into economic recovery. "Those kids (the ones at colleges inventing businesses right this moment) and their ideas are the future of business, if we just hang on tight...you can be sure, too, that legions of people out there aren't frightened by the economy. They're called entrepreneurs. And challenges don't make them surrender; they make them fierce."

If ever there was a rallying cry, a mantra to hang on to in this economic mess that seems to get worse by the day, this is it! And if you, as an entrepreneur (or an aspiring entrepreneur), still had any doubt about whether or not entrepreneurs should really consider starting a business in this climate, isn't a vote of confidence from Jack and Suzy Welch just about the best vote you could find? They don't say things to be nice or supportive or upbeat. They say them because they believe them whole-heartedly.

I love this article so much that it is currently hanging up by my desk. So when I sit down to do research, to consider where my career might, could, should go, and to write about entrepreneurs, I'm reminded that Mr. and Mrs. Welch are on our side. And with support like that, it seems we've run out of excuses to not take our careers in our own hands. In their very simple language, Jack and Suzy Welch have not only given us their support, they've put all their cards on the table and told us that the world needs us - we are the people we've been waiting for to lead us out of these dark days and into a better world of business. It is not just an opportunity for us, it is a responsibility. The world needs us. Be fierce.