a thought on happiness

A few weeks ago I was on my way to see a friend who lives out of town. This route down the Sterling highway is one I have grown particularly fond of, not only because I’ve driven it often but, it gives me time to be with myself, and to simply enjoy beauty. On the left are the rolling Caribou hills, and to the right is the exceptional view over the bluff of jagged mountains either glowing or silhouetted by the sunset. There is so much to take in along the journey, the drive flies by.

On this day, I was sad. I put on some sad tunes and was enjoying the time to be with my thoughts and music. As I pondered where this sadness was coming from, a song that I know by heart began playing. I thought, wow, this song is so sad. So many people have so much sadness in their life. Then, it struck me why I was sad. There was a fear growing inside of me, the fear of allowing myself to feel happiness in that moment. 

Happiness is not something that many people usually fear, but this day I was afraid to feel it. I thought the person I was going to see would easily be able to take it from me. How sad it is indeed, to allow someone else the power of my happiness. The moment I became aware of the fear, the dark clouds began to open up to the blue skies of my mind and the song I was listening to changed from heavy to beautiful.

This isn’t an entry on “perspective” or about “your life is what your thoughts make it.” It is about how easy it is to be reactive. How it is possible to easily slip into dependence or investing our happiness, joy, or whatever good feelings we have on someone/something else rather than looking inward to establish a solid foundation of being able to hold onto it as our own. 

i changed my mind

Memorial weekend I was fortunate enough to attend the Krista Foundation for Global Citizens Conference. Each year I attend, I walk away with new insight and this years was this:

I have spent years trying to figure what I should do with my life. Should I go back to school? What is it that I really want to be doing? What type of job can I get that will be fulfilling and pay the bills? These are the questions that drive me absolutely mad because I have no clue how to answer them. I have never been able to, and probably never will. But, because people innocently ask these questions, I constantly try to find answers.

I hear what others share about what they are doing and I find myself in envy of them. It seems to me they are have found something that is in their element. I envy the fact that they have an element. It’s a bit silly, especially because those are all assumptions I perceive from my end. When really, I have no clue what dialogue they are having inside their minds. I need to stop approaching my life in this way.

At the conference, there were many young adults sharing their gifts with the communities they are apart of. Many of the people I talked to over the weekend mentioned they felt the work they were doing was inadequate compared to what others’ were doing. Even these incredible people felt like they were doing nothing, I was shocked! How ironic, the only way the Krista Foundation survives is by incredible people offering their gifts to others, and so many thought what they were doing was nothing, comparatively.

What is it that makes us so dense? How is it possible that any of us feel that way? Then I realized, often people who like to give, have the tendency to want to give as much as they can. It’s our drug of choice. We have not limits. If we are still standing, we want to give ourselves until we are a sobbing puddle on the the floor and have nothing left. What we try and give is never enough, because there is always a need. Somewhere. Anywhere, a need can be found.

While giving so much of ourselves, as with any drug, we can easily get lost in the world and forget about ourselves and our reality. The things we experience are a mixture of rich beauty tangled with a helpless pain. The experiences are invaluable, as there is always something learned. At times, we feel like we receive more than we give, this being one of the most humbling, and addicting experiences. But amidst all of this, what gets lost in giving and receiving, is honoring ourselves.

What does that even mean, honoring yourself? It means listening to that tiny little voice inside of you. What is it telling you? It whispers, especially for those of us who have chosen to be deaf to it for so long. It is there, it is quiet and we are afraid of what it might be telling us because it is telling us our own truth.

It lets us know there is a balance aching to be found. The balance of listening to the voice that tells us when we are doing too much, or not enough. Our inner voice knows when we are pushing ourselves beyond our limits. Regardless, if we are doing it for a “good cause” or because we let our egos get in the way, always wanting to do more. The voice lets us know when we are overextending ourselves, depleting our energy or being a bum and not giving our best to what we are doing.

When you don’t do your best, judgment and self-doubt become rampant. When you do your best, you can feel it. It should not matter what others expect of you, because doing your best right now is all you can do. You do what you know you can and you are the best judge of that. In learning listen to yourself and do best, you honor and respect yourself, and in turn you learn to do the same for others, and for God. Finding this balance makes you feel alive and fulfilled and everyone one around you benefits.

This is so important in any work you do, anywhere you are. This may come across as selfish, and it is. It is the ultimate form of selfless, selfishness. Without it we cannot fully give ourselves to others. Until we learn to honor ourselves, we will carry on running up the slippery slope of exhaustion, discontent and comparison.

So, to make a long story a little longer, on my way back up to Alaska, I realized at this conference was the first time I felt really good about the transition I am in. I may not be going out and doing great acts of service, but I am learning about honoring myself. I am learning to listen to my Audra voice. And if it weren’t for me moving to Alaska, living in the basement of my friends parents house, working as a barista and bartender, being surrounding by pure and endless beauty, I would not have been able to take the time to connect with myself. 

just can't get enough...

Last week I took a trip to Seattle/Spokane. It was a quick trip and I barely had time to sleep, so my apologies if I did not get a chance to see you. Oh, how I love Washington state. I love Seattle, and it's quirky diverseness. There are so many places to see, and explore. Seattle feels like the city of endless possibilities.
 
After a quick night in Seattle, and a stroll through Pike Place, we rode the train to Spokane. I would take the train over the bus anytime! The seats are comfy (and they recline), you can kick out your legs, you can even get up and walk to a dining car or the bathroom. I was so excited, the train hadn't even taken off before the Pike Place treats were out and I enjoyed what felt like a first class experience.

Then came Spokane, I love Spokane and all of the people who make it home. Nothing beats going home and seeing the all the people who have been apart of my life from near and from afar. I always feel so welcome and full of love. It is a familiar place, full of great opportunities and easy access to the "city life" or nature.

And then there is Alaska (sigh). I am in love with it and I just can't seem to get enough. I was worried I would have a hard time coming back to Alaska after having such a great time in Washington. But flying into Anchorage my heart swelled as I gazed out the window. The city lights sparkled in twilight. The golden full moon was glowed over the snow covered mountains and I felt peace and the sudden urge to fully go out and actively appreciate all of it's beauty. And Alaska's special beauty is something I do not think I will ever get tired of. I wish appreciating beauty was a paid profession:)

Since winter set in on Alaska, I've learned a few things about life up here that I'd like to share with you:

1. Walking to working in jeans when it below zero hurts, it burns everywhere that is not covered in at least 3 layers

2. Anything above zero is considered warm

3. If the sun is out the town looks like a winter wonderland, snow the covers everything, and it sparkles. Don't be fooled though, sun = below zero

4. Alaskan’s have snow plowing down to an art. They plow everything to the middle of the street then a snow blower and a dump truck follow and clear the center of the streets. I’ve never seen anything like it. Plowed streets rock!

5. People do not use their garages for cars. Garages are filled with stuff. Why someone would want to have to wait 20 minutes to start the car, and stand outside in -15 degree weather to chip ice of the windshield is beyond me.

5. Beware of moose. They can be found just about anywhere, your front yard, the side of the highway, or the Fred Meyer's parking long. I still get excited to see moose, you’d think I would be tired of it by now, but I’m not.  

Moose story: A few weeks ago, I walked to work (see 1). I work at a coffee shop about a mile from where I live. I’ve walked this many times and this day was not any different, aside from my concern for my face freezing off. My shift ended at noon, and I began my trek home. It was crisp and sunny (see 3). A lady had already stopped and asked if she could give me a ride. I declined. I was determined to make it on my own.

My pace quickened as I rounded the corner to the final stretch, excited to soon be warm. I’d made it about a quarter of the way down the street when I saw a calf down the way, munching on a tree. Calves are so cute, of course, but if there is a calf, a cow is sure to be close by and this can be deadly.  Mothers are very protective.

Time seemed to go by slowly at this point as thoughts raced through my mind as my frozen brain tried to make a decision. Should I detour? Walk all the way around the other block and hope the cow was not at the end of the road. But to be honest, I did not know if I would make it, going that much further and survive the stinging cold. I debated on calling anyone because I knew in the time it took for their car to warm up (see 5) I could walk around the block. I tried calling anyway.

Just as I was in the middle of my first call, a 4-Runner pulled up and a lady asked, “Are you stuck? Would you like a ride?” Yes, Yes! I wanted a ride so desperately. I hopped in and as we passed the calf, we saw the cow on the other side of the street. Whew, that was a close encounter!

The lady introduced herself and as I was getting out of the car she said thoughtfully, “Okay, today was a good day. I just saved a life." I am grateful for random acts of kindness.

moosin' around

The sunrise woke me up as its soft glow reflected over the small lake. My brain slowly started adjusting as I remembered where I was… at the homestead in Big Lake, Alaska. The thought of getting out of bed this particular morning was not easy.

This Sunday was special; Kaitlin and I were going to help Bruce butcher the moose he shot the previous week. Getting a moose is a an exciting event, so aside from my thoughts about how terrible butchering the moose was going to be, I was really excited for Bruce.

I took my sweet time eating breakfast, but eventually, Frances, Kaitlin’s grandma, caught on to us, or at least me (not sure about Kaitlin) avoiding the moose chopping action and said, “are you guys going to sit around all day or get to that moose?” We had no choice… off we went to the garage.

I drug my feet out to the garage; quite literally, I drug them through the golden leaves.

Seated at the table with knives in our hands and hindquarters hanging from the beams, Bruce gave a brief explanation of how to cut up the moose before he abandoned us. There was a bowl for the roasts, a bag for hamburger meat and another for sausage, and unwanted pieces would go to the dog mushers.

At first, I was unsure of how to slice and dice, but once we got going, it was great! We cut our way through the afternoon with Prairie Home Companion in the background. I was surprised how much I enjoyed myself. Putting time and energy into food that we would eventually be eating was really cool. And knowing no part would go to waste was even better.

Growing up, my parents always placed an importance on knowing what was in our food, where it came from, and not wasting it. Our backyard was always producing something exciting, whether it was fruits, vegetable or compost. My mom would make everything from scratch, and I can still hear my dad lecturing about reading the labels on food. It took me a few years to before I fully appreciated or understood what they were trying to convey. (I will confess, in elementary school I used to trade my homemade cookies for cheetos and oreos:)

So sitting in the Valda’s garage, cutting up moose meat reminded me of how easy it can be to separate ourselves from the source of our food or even the preparation of it. I like sitting down to eat and knowing I am eating food that is good for me, and I made a small contribution to the meal.