Write so the heart stays soft: On vulnerability and interviewing

Vulnerability: Telling the truth without worrying whether or not it sounds good. Revealing the self without concealing imperfections. Admitting freely when I don't have my shit together. -me

A lesson from interviewing: Embrace Vulnerability

I've had multiple interviews in the last few months. 

Interviewing sucks. For everyone. It sucks for those who are trying to decide whether you are the right person for the job, just as much as for us who are trying to find a place where we can fit in, contribute, and be happy about how we spend our time. 

It is the art of constructing an identity. It is a first date when you want to look your best, because contrary to what we say and want to believe, looks in our culture do matter. It is learning what people want to hear and saying it in a way that says, "I'm genuine." At worst, it feels fake. At best, you are able to find a place where you are valued and you are being genuine.  

It is constructing conversations in the head, with potential employers, parents,friends and acquaintances. 

It is learning not to take it personally when you are rejected, even though sometimes it is you and it is personal.

It is creating and telling a narrative while stifling insecurities and feelings of inadequacy, incompetency, fear, shame, and guilt. It is glossing over past failed projects, goals and dreams that never materialized, wishes lost in the sea of possibilities. It means trying to maintain a sense of worth. It is pushing back on the feeling that there is something fundamentally wrong. 

If I admit that these feelings are just stronger than me right now, then it's confirmed that the feelings are, indeed, truth. 

This narrative, which attempts to omit these feelings, might actually just be my self unraveling. 

Conversation doesn't happen in a vacuum, and you can't hide behind your weaknesses and failures without being "outed." So, I'm trying to embrace vulnerability and perhaps say, yes, I am unraveling. I'm trying. 

I think (hope) this is a lesson I'll look back on and want to carry. Embracing vulnerability is one of the murkier conversations with the self. It can't be scripted, or omitted. The feelings need to have a place at the table. They need to have a space to voice their concerns. And I want to listen to them. Even though it bruises my ego.

This means I have to sit down at the table and have that conversation with my weaknesses and failures, my fears and shame, and say, I hear you. You matter to me. I'm all in. And it's ok. 

This is one conversation that takes practice. Now to find a way to embrace vulnerability while interviewing. 

Finding my stride

"My feet and I have this understanding...I place one in front of the other and they transport...its called walking/running/hiking..., and it opens the window of my mind and lets all the clutter rush out...like so much stale air...I don't know what my mind would do without my feet."

-Original author unknown, shared with me via email from my good friend Snowcone.

Running+Vibrams+Mud=delectably dirty feet;)

Jacob on a beloved local trail at Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve

It's official, I signed up for my first trail race. I will be running along the Skyline to the Sea 50km trail run on June 10. I've never run an official race longer than a half marathon, and I've only recently run more than that while training for this run. After completing the Pacific Crest Trail back in September, 2011, I promised myself that no matter what future paths I followed, I wanted to keep the daily part of the trail alive. This manifested in a desire to start running. And I feel most alive on trails. So, I've committed to running on trails.

There are running days when I feel whole, aligned, right with inner and outer sense of place and space, and my body moves with ease. I approach these days excited for what's to come, what I'll encounter, and the miles, hills, and hours I devote make me feel strong, centered, and free.

And then there are running days when I feel worn down. My body feels heavy, cumbersome, and each step a chore. My mind starts to focus on the hills, the miles, the time; and they break me down and shout at me to give up. This voice inside stifles my commitment to persevere. 

It's exactly how I felt on a long-distance hike. And, I've had this continued conversation with a realization. Not an epiphany but a truth that resides in the back recesses of my mind. A truth which has revealed itself over and over and over again. One that I face everyday, in every facet of my life. The truth that whispers, don't get so comfy when everything feels right, because very soon you'll feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. 

The ups and downs, in running and life, are in fact, the essential endurance. This is the singular hurdle which rests between the outer world and the inner strength. I'll find my stride by running through the good days as well as the bad.

In honor of Women's Day

Women's History Month and International Women's Day: Celebration.

Today is Women's Day.


And this month is Women's History Month.


So, today, and this month I think about women, around the world, who live in fear: of violence, persecution, political or social oppression.


Who don't have a safe space to explore their inner and outer worlds, who can't be silly, who can't go jump in puddles, who don't have time or resources to read a new book, write a new poem, paint a new portrait.


Who don't get to walk to the beat of their own drum, who can't even walk alone.


And I think of the women of the past and present, in my own life and whom I've never met, who take a chance, make mistakes, fall, get up, who laugh and make fools of themselves.


Who gaze up to the stars, who let their minds wander out into the free open air, and study the currents and under-currents harbored in the infinite sky.


The women who march right up to the corners of our universe, to the folds of the fabric, and who launch themselves into the unknown.


Today I express my appreciation, love, and unwavering gratitude for those individuals in my life who have allowed me the freedom and space to say what I think, whatever it is, and be who I am, without judgement.


The freedom, in friendship and love, which allowed me to embark on a life journey of possibilities, playing with life's options, and much silliness.


I have had, through no volition of my own, the good fortune to have been born to a family which provided a childhood world where I was equal, and I count my blessings.


I have had friends, family, colleagues, teachers, students, coaches and players whom have shared experiences and in mutual respect, been with me in life's joys and sorrows.






How many times I've wanted to say thanks, but never did.






Today,


I say,


Thanks.

Out There

Life has taken me away from this particular blog space, and I've decided to jump back in, to the now, the end of February, 2012.

I have read little of Edward Abbey's works, and I've decided it's high time I started.  So as of late, I've taken to reading E.A. at night before bed, and I dive into the desert via Desert Solitaire. I'm transported through voice to the world of cacti and Pinyon Pine, Juniper, Yucca, and rattle snakes dancing in collective sexual euphoria. I've never been privy reptilian mating habits, but I can imagine it would be quite an experience. In any case, reading Abbey is a great way to transition from waking life to my life in dreams.

In 1956, Ed Abbey spent a summer working as a ranger in a little National Park in southeastern Utah called Arches. Although still little, Arches is now not little known, and has changed, for better or worse, from the secluded desert oasis Abbey wrote about. He compiled his journals into a book, then dubbed Desert Solitaire, which was published with a modest following in 1968. Abbey's words resonate with me, not because they are the benediction of a self-proclaimed "nature lover", but because he captures, nay, demands our attention to the wild places, much akin to a scorpion stinging to protect his beloved home.

The following exemplifies this spirit:

"A weird, lovely, fantastic object out of nature like Delicate Arch has the curious ability to remind us-like rock and sunlight and wind and wilderness-that out there is a different world, older and greater and deeper by far than ours, a world which surrounds and sustains the little world of men as sea and sky surround and sustain a ship. The shock of the real. For a little while we are again able to see, as the child sees, a world of marvels. For a few moments we discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous then all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures."

The following photos, capture the mystery and take me to the out there even when I'm in here. 

Somewhere in the Desert on the Pacific Crest Trail

Bishop Pass, CA 

Joshua Tree National Park 

Zion National Park, Utah

Big Basin State Park, CA 

Sequoia National Park

North Cascades National Park, WA

Photos attributed to Jacob P. Gallagher.

Self-arrest lessons

Training for the trail has most certainly been moving forward. One major task was to practice/learn using an ice axe to self arrest and self belay. Luckily my husband has mountaineering training and experience-his tutorials are fantastic.  All I wanted for Christmas this year was a trusty Black Diamond Raven Pro Ice Axe, and that is what I got-my first real tool. Have to say, with my record of cutting myself with sharp objects, I've been a bit apprehensive about thrusting my body weight onto something so close to the major arteries in my neck. But with safety precautions, body awareness, and practice, I feel more empowered to have those reflexes available should the time come, i.e. I'm sliding down an icy mountain slope.

Last weekend Jacob and I drove up near Sonora Pass, to the snow, found a snow covered hill, and made a snow run. Guess my Minnesota roots came out-makes me want to get into more snow/winter activities.....

The following is what I learned from that lesson:

How to use an Ice Axe:

A Basic Ice Axe is a traditional, and essential safety tool used in mountaineering. Not to be confused with a Technical Ice Axe, or Ice Tool, a Basic Ice Axe serves as a balance and safety device while ascending or descending steep icy or snowy slopes. This wicked-awesome tool can be life-saving, for self-arrest in an unexpected run in with gravity, to carve steps, and as a self belay in the form of a retrievable snow anchor when you need to rappel down a pitch but don't have a better natural feature to tie onto. Learning to use an Ice Axe is an exciting and necessary skill for anyone interested in winter hiking and mountaineering, and will be helpful for us if/when we run into snow on the PCT.

The main components of an ice axe are

• The Adze: this is the wide, flat end of the head used for chopping steps in hard snow or ice.
• The Pick: this is the toothed, pointed end of the head, slightly curved, and the part that is shoved into the snow or ice during self arrest.
• The Head: comprised of the adze and the the pick.
• The Shaft: shaft length and configuration depend on climbing style, strength, size, and type of climbing. Back in the day, shafts were made of wood; but the one I will be depending on is made of aluminum-alloy; very lightweight-one of our major considerations for our thru-hike.
• The Spike: a steel point at the base of the shaft for balance and safety when the axe is held by it's head as if it were a walking stick. 

How to use a basic Ice Axe:

How to Self-Arrest

• With your side to the slope, you should be grabbing the ice axe with your slope facing hand at the head with the adze facing forward. The thumb is under the adze and your palm and fingers are around the pick. If you slip grab the end of the shaft above the spike with your other hand. 
• The pick should be pressed just above the shoulder, so the adze is near the angle formed by the neck and shoulder. *It's crucial to have a guard over the adze*
• The shaft crosses the chest diagonally and is held close to the hip. *gripping the end of the shaft in this way prevents the hand from acting as a pivot from which the spike can swing around and strike the thigh.*
• Chest and shoulder are pressed strongly down on ice axe shaft. It is the body weight falling on the axe which leads to a successful self-arrest. 
• Head should be facing down, so the shoulders and chest keep the body weight over the adze. 
• The spine should be arched slightly away from the snow. This arch is critical in body weight distribution, which puts most of the weight on the adze head, and the toes; which are the points that dig into the snow and force a stop. Pull up on the end of the shaft to further this weight distribution.
• Some say the knees should be digging into the snow, and if crampons are used, this is true. But in our case, we won't be using crampons, and the possibilities of going over rocks or cutting ice edges, the feet would be better for that contact than the knees. 
• Legs are stiff and spread apart with the toes digging in.  

Because there are various ways of falling down a mountain, it's important to practice the various different scenarios. The four likely scenarios are feet first on stomach, feet first on back, head first on stomach, and head first on back. The immediate objective in all cases is to get your body positioned in the only effective self-arrest position: feet first on stomach. 

Feet first on stomach

This is self-arrest position, so just get the body over the axe shaft and end in final position described previously

Feet first on back

Roll toward the head of the axe and aggressively shove the pick into the snow at your side near your hip as you roll onto your stomach. If axe head is on the right, roll to the right. If left, roll to the left. Careful not to roll to the opposite side as this could shove the spike in the snow and cause loss of control of the axe. 

Head first on stomach

Feet need to be swung downhill. Reach axe downhill and off to the axe head side, (if the head was in your right hand, this would be to the right above the head, and shove the pick into the snow to act as a pivot, to rotate your body so your feet are first downhill. Continue with above described self arrest position.

Head first on back

Hold axe across torso and shove the pick into the snow, then twist and roll toward it, the pick again acts as a pivot. Work your chest toward the axe head, and your feet so they are facing down hill. A sitting position helps this. 

And practice, practice, practice. Self-arrest is a last-ditch effort-few actually have to use it, and the hope/prayer is that you don't. But it is empowering to learn. Safety first, get proper instruction, and go with someone who knows what they are doing. 

Nomnom COokies!!!!

While ice and snow blanket the midwest and the eastern part of our country, Egypt continues to stand in the light of the world's news services; and February begins, reminding me of my neglect in contributing into the blogosphere. Thanks to Ling for reminding me to just start writing. Training for the upcoming 2700 mile jaunt on the PCT proceeds, and Jacob and I continue to plan for our inevitable uprooting. April 19th hasn't felt so near. As I've been a bit MIA for the start of 2011, I'll begin with an awesome chocolate chip cookie recipe. A non-vegan friend gave her stamp of approval-so perhaps a future business endeavor is in the works?

Ingredients for an awesome vegan chocolate chip cookie worthy of the cookie monster himself:

1 cup vegan margarine
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup molasses
2 tsp vanilla
2 1/4 cups all-purpose baking flour, or almond flour for a gluten free cookie
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cup vegan chocolate chips
1/2 cup pecans or walnuts (I used pecans cause Ling made them available:)
3 tsp egg substitute
4 Tbs warm water
1/2 tsp cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F

Combine egg replacer, warm water, sugar +molasses, vanilla, and margarine (at room temp) and mix into a creamy paste
In separate bowl combine dry ingredients. Pour wet into dry and add chocolate chips and nuts. The dough will feel a bit crumbly, but use your hands to work it into small balls and put on a non-stick cookie sheet. Bake for 10-12 min. The cookies won't spread out, and may be hard to tell that they're done, but if you stick a fork into a chocolate chip and its melted, they're fairly well done. Let cool-unless you're like me and can't wait and burn the shit out of your tongue because you're too excited, and go at it like the cookie monster!!!!

Language

Val and I walking through a village in the Usambara Mountains circa 2008, Tanzania

"After all, when you come right down to it, how many people speak the same language even when they speak the same language?" -Roland Barthes

I ease our red toyota pick-up into a spot on the busy street, I steal a glance at the bay in front as I get out of the red engine that could, and walk toward the corner of Webster and Central Ave in Alameda, where these past friends and I agreed to meet. I'm giddy, with butterfly's brushing against my insides, excited to catch up on the news of Tanzania, eager to let down my barriers, relieved that I won't have to keep this mask I have on-the mask that says to the world I am "adjusted", "integrated", a part of this social fabric, here in the U.S. 

I hug them both, and we walk, all three with a bounce in our step, towards a cafe where we can sit and let the conversation pour. After ordering teas, we sit, sprawl actually, all three of us on this small two-person couch, so close, like we are traveling on a daladala, comforted by the closeness, comforted by the lack of personal bubbles, intruding, welcoming, in each other's space. 

Across from us is a series of images on the wall, pictures of distant places, dark skinned men and women on beaches, in streets with bustling commotion, chaotic markets, and we talk, freely, hopping from one topic to another with that emotive urgency that friends have when they reunite.

 One image is of green chairs and tables on an ordinary sidewalk, and Kate says,

"That could be anywhere."

Yeah, anywhere, we could be anywhere.  

Kristen is a month back after a three-year tour in the Peace Corps in Tanzania. She talks about the end of her service, about leaving her site, saying goodbye to students, colleagues, friends and what became family, and how she justified her uprooting to these neighbors by telling them she was going back to America to get a Masters in Chemistry. 

I ask if this is true.

"No, but it seemed like the best way to explain why I was leaving."  

We talk about other volunteers, who's doing what, where they are, how they are "adjusting", so-and-so hates this grad program they got into, but doesn't know what to do, so-in-so is in law school and continuing on their already planned path, happy to be back. 

Our words float into the air around us, hanging there, easily accessible, understandable, digestible, and it's natural. There is this bond that we have, that we will always have, and I think about how nice it is. To be able to speak a language, and have people REALLY speak the same one. I think that has been one of the hardest parts about readjusting from life in the Peace Corps, that while I have the same language as other Americans, it seems I don't always use it in a way that seems to be understandable. 

After a year being back, I'm just starting to be okay with this fact. And am learning that I don't HAVE to talk about Tanzania. But meeting up with Kate and Kristen have just unleashed all of these kept words, and it feels so freeing, like water breaking from the dam. 

And then I reflect on how important that sense of community is, how much I miss it, how I want to have it again. Peace Corps was a bond, a common thread where the language is unique, the culture is unique, and if anything, I think that's what I'll carry with me, and seek out in whatever contexts the future holds. Because language is what unites us, what connects us, and how we share our worlds, merge our paths. 

I am grateful for these people who I can speak the same language with with.