29 Lessons in 29 Years

Does someone under the age of 50 actually have have life lessons to share?
Ryan Freitas thinks so. I do too. Here are some of my 29 in 29 years, in random order:

• Always be willing to have sincere, engaging conversations with others who have very differing views from you (e.g., religious, political, financial, cultural, etc). Open, open, open yourself. You'll grow and hopefully they will too.
• Study a language of your choice, not for any practical purposes or because it is a educational requirement. Greek anyone?
• Engage often in free writing exercises and do NOT edit your writing during the process. After you write, put it away for a bit. Then, when you're ready, come back to it and be your own favorite editor.
• Attend a same-sex educational institution--even if only for a semester or night class. You'll have the thrill of what it's like to learn with your own gender (liberating!) sans distractions.
• Visit the midwest in height of summer. Soak in the beauty of landscape and thank a farmer for growing your food.
• Write newsy, handwritten notes to family and friends as often as you can. Everyone loves getting snail mail.
• Take up freelancing. It's a boost to whatever skills you're fine-tuning and can lead to excellent opportunities.
• Do a few housechores each day, preferrably in the morning before work or school. That way, when you come home, things are tidy and you can relax and enjoy family, roomates, or time alone.
• Don't be afraid to travel, even if you don't have a travel buddy.
• Experience a variety of unpaid internships. You'll meet fantastic professionals and learn more than you can imagine.
• Update your resume frequently for no reason at all. It will keep you motivated toward your goals and remind you of what you've accomplished.
• Do manual labor for a good cause (e.g., Habitat for Humanity, religious mission trips, community service agencies, or just a neighbor who needs assistance). It feels so good to sweat your way toward making a difference.
• Encourage others to tell you their story and listen, listen, listen.
• Adopt a cat, dog, or another fuzzy animal and snuggle with them far more than you think you should.
• Smile at children. Always.
• Even if you have no artistic talents, make homemade cards. People love receiving them.
• Forgive yourself. Repeatedly.
• Don't let anyone tell you that piddling is a waste of time. It's what fantastic (and productive) days are made of. 
• Go to county fairs, state fairs, community and school festivals. Eat the food and enjoy the people.
• If you're left-handed, keep your own pair of left-handed scissors, use good pens, and learn Hebrew (you won't smudge your own writing). If you're right-handed, be considerate of those who aren't.
• When you shop for clothes at thrift stores, look at the labels. Not because you are a brand snob--but because most name brands are well made and will last longer (even if they are secondhand).
• Write poetry. Even if it doesn't rhyme. Even if it's dreadful.
• Take the time you need to grieve any losses.
• Don't be afraid to tell others that you are writer. Even if they give you "the look" (you know which look I'm referring to).
• When you can't sleep, get up to read, type an e-mail, blog, and enjoy the silence that the sleeping world has to offer.
• One year, keep your Christmas tree (or holiday decor) up until Valentine's Day. Or Easter. Or Fourth of July. Just for fun.
• Eat popcorn for dinner.
• Read classics in literature. There's a reason their called classics.
• Each time you hear a siren (ambulance, firetruck), say a prayer and/or send positive energy toward the person(s) receiving assistance. If you or someone you know has ever been in an emergency situation, you know how important this can be.

For addtional lifehacks with a philosophical spin, visit Vichara.

Passport

There's something so liberating about having one's own (freshly renewed) passport. Even with no money and no destination--you can slip it into your pocket, lounge in your favorite chair, and dream of your future adventures.

Windows

There is a man outside my tenth floor office washing windows. I stop what I’m writing to stare. Surely he’s accustomed to rude people like me who are fascinated by his work? I’m relieved when he waves. I eagerly wave back.

He jumps off his window-washing swing (a slab of wood covered in carpet like the one I used when I was a child) and walks the pebbled building ledge. His playground swing is secured to two thick cables with a green canvas belt (sort of like the army kind). He’s wearing the same army green belt as a harness attached to another, more stabilizing cable.

He travels the ledge quickly, swirling his brush with finesse and finishing each window with the squeal of his squeegee. He doesn't seem to mind my obnoxious gape.

When he completes the three windows outside my office, he stands at the stone edge and looks down (with no shaking hands or hesitancy), seemingly planning his next move with a colleague. He turns quickly and faces my office, mounting his swing. Snapping on his bucket and tools, he offers another kind wave, and disappears.

After he's gone I can still see his ropes moving gently. 

The Period of PURPLE Crying

Several years ago, while serving as a hospital chaplain, I baptized a dying infant who was the victim of shaken baby syndrome.

The circumstances surrounding the child's death were sad and traumatic; what's more devastating is that it could have been prevented had the parents known about a developmental stage in a baby's life when they cry more than any other time. 

That's why I'm heading to Charlotte's WBTV tomorrow to share my story about the Period of PURPLE Crying: Keeping Babies Safe in North Carolina. Tune in and share the Web site with every parent and caregiver you know. We can all prevent shaken baby syndrome.

Comment Trouver Sa Voie?

Sometime before dawn, I had a nightmare about this blog.

It was my recurring nightmare in which I am forced to return to whatever stage of education I previously endured in order to complete a course (and life lesson?) I did not finish. This morning I traveled to my advanced French conversation class at Reidsville High School taught by Ms. Patterson, a lovely British exchange teacher who visited our school circa 1998.

My return to Ms. Patterson's classroom was likely related to the ridiculous hour of stress I put my dear husband through as I checked (and double checked) the verb conjugation and syntax for this blog title. I'm embarrassed that three seemingly small French words set off my anxiety-ridden perfectionist habits.

So it's fitting that Trouver Ma Voie is about navigating my own (sometimes anxious) way in a culture where many of us strive for perfection.