tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-307981182024-03-13T18:58:26.547-03:00And I Kept a Straight Face...My expression says it all.Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.comBlogger280125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-28332614098810385152012-08-04T11:45:00.000-03:002012-08-04T11:50:26.737-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">How a child sees herself<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Typically, I am very aware of the people around me. I naturally observe what each person brings to the table and what that means to the
goal of the encounter or situation. Even so, I have been oblivious to something—something
right under my nose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This recent relocation has opened my eyes to my daughter
in ways I could not have anticipated had I tried. I assumed she will experience
highs and lows throughout the transition from Brasil to the southern part of United
States, but she is resilient, so I was confident the move would be positive.
She has lived in three states and two countries in her short life. Now her
cognition is on overdrive and perhaps I was not aware of how much thinking is
truly going on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The second day in our new home, my almost 14- year-old
daughter nonchalantly asks, “Have there always been black people in Alabama Mom?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking at her, unsure of what she is asking or where
the conversation may lead, I tilt my head and reply, “What exactly do you mean?
Like since the beginning of time, the history of the state/country.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When she replies yes, I deliver a clear, albeit brief,
run down of the history of the state of Alabama. How after the “discovery” of
the Americas and Westward Expansion, part of the economy that supported the
southern parts of the United States depended on slave labor. I remind her that
which she already knows regarding slavery and the robbery of millions of human
beings from Africa and how so many people were forced to the “New World”,
predominantly, but not limited to, areas of the South in the United States. Finishing my mini-history
lesson with a definitive, “so, yes, there have pretty much always been black
people in AL.” Satisfied, she had no more questions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A little while later, that same day, my daughter
randomly says, “Mom, I am not going to find anyone who looks like me.” (Notice
the level of processing going on in her mind. She, for obvious reasons, is
concerned about making new friends, and it is human nature to seek others who “look”
like us to forge friendships.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I ask, “What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To which she replies, “I just think you chose to live in
a part of the city that has mostly black people.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Without a moment’s hesitation, and honestly with almost
no thought, I turned to her and asked, “Do I need to remind you that YOU are
50% black?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To this reply, she giggled, demonstrated a bit of
embarrassment and said, “Oh yeah! Never mind.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The significance of this observation is truly amazing to
me. Living outside of the US for the past six years, my daughter has not been
forced to look at herself through a North American racial lens. The history of
this country and its impact on the race situation has not been personal for her.
This is not to say that race is not an issue in Brazil. It most certainly is.
It is just different and worthy of a separate post. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What matters right now is that this conversation reminded
me to think about what it means to be a bi-racial child of a single parent? I
understand the <b><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.amptoons.com/blog/files/mcintosh.html" target="_blank">daily effects of white privilege</a></span></b>
I carry with me as a middle-class, white female in the United States. I forgot,
however, how much that privilege has indirectly influenced my bi-racial daughter
throughout her life. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For a bi-racial child of a single parent, it means that one
half of the child’s ethnic identity is not present in her day-to-day. Actually,
this is the case for all single parent children. However, in a society where
race is visible and the history regarding race differences is not so distant,
bi-racial children—perhaps—face a <em>different</em> element to “coming of age” and “defining
oneself” than children of mono-race parents in particular when one parent is
not present.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I took for granted that my daughter identifies with both
sides of her genetic make-up. I assumed that the conversations about history,
current events, family tree, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">life
were </i>enough. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We know how we see ourselves. We know how we view
others. We have an idea how others view us. But nobody knows how the other
views herself.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What I can say proudly is that I watch my daughter
encounter new people and interact with strangers in a store, and I witness her
generous openness and kindness. I see her greet others with sincerity and
respect regardless of each individual’s outward appearance. For this I am
proud. After all, it is this very acceptance of differences that I have hoped
to instill in her. I hope to foster the tools she will need to be part of a diverse global community because I know that self-identification is an on-going process that doesn’t magically end after adolescence. <o:p></o:p></span>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-12097113518512619372012-07-27T00:07:00.003-03:002012-07-27T00:07:49.877-03:00Sensory overload and culture shock....<br />
I am under construction.<br />
Will write soon.<br />
I promise!<br />
<br />
From Rio de Janeiro to Montgomery, AL coming soon.Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-3666479278652659022012-06-27T08:53:00.000-03:002012-06-27T08:55:18.599-03:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">On being American</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/r-RBGG3AsXk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Living on the outside for the past 6 years, I have found myself criticizing my home country at various times. I have witnessed—from afar—political changes, economic struggles, and social injustices. I have at times been warned about my safety as an American outside of American territory. Ironic because I have felt more secure in Brasil than in some parts of the states. I have not worried about my daughter living in the mega-tropolis of Rio de Janeiro in the same way I worry about her in the states. There is a genuine respect for women and children in this country. It has not always been that way. Brasil's history includes horrible stories of violence against both; thankfully, in the last 2-3 decades the government has successfully implemented laws protecting both women and children. (It's one of a couple of areas of Brasilian government that actually functions-minus corruption and intense bureaucracy.)<br />
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Is that to mean crime and violence and risk and danger are absent in this culture? Of course not! I myself experienced an assault my third year here that left me scared to walk the streets for six months. Is that to mean that Brasil doesn’t have her own “issues”? Absolutely not! The differences among social classes leave the poor so poor that random, petty crime is a way of survival. It is still third world.<br />
The slogan on Brasil’s flag is: Ordem e Progresso! Order and Progress! Let me tell you…this has been a constant joke of sorts among us expats, as much about Carioca living is disorderly and disorganized. But there is something so awesome about the <em>Carioca Jeito</em> (Carioca Way).</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/pE444bnTzjg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<em>*video for those who speak Portuguese and understand the Carioca Jeito</em></div>
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At various times over the past six years I have found myself “anti-American” (more so during the years of the Bush administration because of the reactions from locals when they asked what I thought about my president. I learned quickly to appear neutral.) I do not tie myself to one political party or another although my friends would say I am ultra-liberal. I certainly do not talk political party, I talk issues and right vs. wrong and ethics, which I guess could be linked back to a particular party's opinion...but anyway that's not what this is supposed to be about right now.</div>
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I have been physically preparing (literally) to leave for the last three weeks. I have also been emotionally preparing myself. Re-acclimating to life in the U.S. will be challenging. A couple of weeks ago, as I chatted with a good friend, I realized something I had not thought about previously.</div>
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This friend is also and expat. She has been living in Rio for 30+ years. She is American, but she has lived in Brasil longer than she lived in her home country. Her three children and all but one grandchild have been born in Brasil. She shared with me that over the years she herself has experienced her own love/hate relationship with the United States. At times channeling Lee Greenwood and belting out lyrics to <a href="http://youtu.be/LVhnaVAQeTo" target="_blank">"Proud to be an American".</a> At other times, shaking her head in disappointment or embarrassment at national events. </div>
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Next month, she will close-up her Rio apartment, jump on a plane, rent an apartment in California, and volunteer on the 2013 US Presidential Campaign (I will leave out which party she will be working with because it might mar your impression of her, and it really doesn't matter because what she says next is absolutely true, incredibly important, and political opinion does not make a difference in its significance.)</div>
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As she counseled me on my re-acclimation (counseled because in hindsight that's exactly what it was--for both of us probably), and she shared that similar love/hate with the U.S. that I have felt. She came to this...</div>
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One day, how, I am not sure, but one day, she realized, <em>"I am who I am because I am American. If I speak ill of my home country, I am in fact speaking ill of myself. I have the open mind I have because I was born and reared in the United States of America. I have the opportunity in life that I have because I am American."</em></div>
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Freedom. Opportunity. The American Dream. It's what founded our country. It's what keeps our country afloat in times of trouble. It's what continues to summon thousands of people each year who journey to the U.S. in search of a "better life". What did I do to be American to have this opportunity?</div>
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Nothing.</div>
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I was born there. I have ancestors who chased that dream 100 years ago. That's all. Nothing more. I have grandparents who worked hard. Who were honest. Who struggled. The only thing that makes me different from the less fortunate Brasilian child on the street is the parents to whom I was born. How lucky am I? How lucky am I to have the privilege to choose a life outside my home country for however long I wish and be able to return whenever I want. </div>
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For that, I am proud to be an American!</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-23356041956350106802012-06-25T09:40:00.002-03:002012-06-25T09:40:36.413-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Saudades</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">If you speak more than one language, you might understand that words exist in one language that are impossible to express with the same significance in another language. <i>Saudades</i> is one of those words. It means: longing for or missing something or someone. But to say, “I miss you.” in English is not the same as saying, “<i>To com saudades de voce</i>!” in Portuguese. There’s a power of passion in the word <i>saudades</i>. Its connotation is different, stronger. I am going to feel <i>saudades imensa</i> (immense longing) for many things once I board my plane for Montgomery on July 2. <br /><u>Here are a few</u>:<br />Ipanema Beach and Barraca do Nildo (there’s truth to the Cheers theme song)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyC8hKeGHME3Hwak-kUS5lAkAtWMvUl_40PLXogzVsG6655Ltdb0DBiPMjn-SESkpDGtJuR_gxj6IHln1YKdmgjRFfEEIMH-LrQazMkzThXuSlbakZ7Ury0dzASPj1L4PXkzR/s1600/399535_10150474076619163_161722943_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNyC8hKeGHME3Hwak-kUS5lAkAtWMvUl_40PLXogzVsG6655Ltdb0DBiPMjn-SESkpDGtJuR_gxj6IHln1YKdmgjRFfEEIMH-LrQazMkzThXuSlbakZ7Ury0dzASPj1L4PXkzR/s200/399535_10150474076619163_161722943_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Brazilian Music and live Samba (especially Samba do Chapeu at Bola Preta.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Monkies and toucans playing in the trees outside my window</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The serenade of the beach vendors singing their respective products’ names…<i>matte ou lemao, picole, queijo coalho</i>.</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Walking through the street with an open can of beer (there’s truly something liberating about being able to openly drink in public, like "you're a grown-up, you can be responsible")</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Carnaval Blocos (despite the risks of random pick-pocketers)</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr4OaKo6QO4hBi99EDiiZHaNbBz5N_c_dqmDG94hGnvMV9iFQE3qxtPBU3TTU-5rGWYvnO70EOZTH0tVBLEK2mQUxAtICGQQHYTnjNlEMWXVxHr3Tfz3eeGjvqOQ6X2Fcujd-/s1600/31271_388403302284_7889313_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr4OaKo6QO4hBi99EDiiZHaNbBz5N_c_dqmDG94hGnvMV9iFQE3qxtPBU3TTU-5rGWYvnO70EOZTH0tVBLEK2mQUxAtICGQQHYTnjNlEMWXVxHr3Tfz3eeGjvqOQ6X2Fcujd-/s320/31271_388403302284_7889313_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">LAPA</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Picanha and farofa</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><a href="http://southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2007/12/too-many-shoes-is-it-possible-what-did.html" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" target="_blank">Living in havaianas</a><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Botecos</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Acai!</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Carioca jeito (The Rio way)</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Living bilingual</span><br style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Girl’s WeekendS in BUZIOS!!</span><br /><br />
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Of course these are just a few and the list does not include the PEOPLE who I will miss more than the THINGS (except the girls' weekends one, that's TOTALLY about PEOPLE!). I can’t really write about people because that’s usually what makes the tornado come. (You know who you are!)</div>
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The past week, as I have sorted and re-sorted through my “stuff” deciding what will go with me on the plane (this has been easier for Sierra since she is giving away almost everything in anticipation of being able to buy a complete, new wardrobe--hmmm---that kid's pretty smart), what will go in the shipment, and what will be left behind, I have been an emotional tornado. The anticipation of this move is a constant current blowing me in the direction of accomplishment. The <i>saudades</i> come in, change the direction of the current, causing a funnel cloud that leaves me in tears. I am not sad, don’t misunderstand me. I do not regret anything about my decision. I am in fact ecstatic to start this new chapter, to make a difference, to work hard, to be stimulated, to create, to forge new friendships. And at the same time, I am looking forward to many elements of re-acclimating to life in the land of milk and honey; such as:</div>
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Target (hehe)<br />Organized roads with (generally) drivers who respect the lanes<br />Central Air<br />A new car (oh yeah baby!)<br />An amazing educational opportunity for Sierra<br />A smaller commute<br />More time with my daughter<br />Time to write<br />Home Depot! (<a href="http://southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2011/12/i-miss-home-depot-living-abroad-i-often.html" target="_blank">refer to this earlier post to understand why</a>)<br />Time to play my guitar again</div>
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So what is it that I'm really thinking as I pack and organize and sort and purge and repack and feel the anxiety created by living in transition (I do NOT understand how hoarders do it, seriously, my house is a complete disaster, and I can't stand it. How do people live surrounded by boxes and <i>stuff</i> all the time? It really is a mental disorder that requires intervention. I feel for them. Sincerely.)</div>
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I am: Invigorated! Blessed! Grateful! My friend<a href="http://www.seedifly.com/" target="_blank"> Diane</a> recently said, "If there isn't a little bit of fear in your decision to make a move in your life, it maybe isn't the right decision." <strike>I think</strike> I agree with her. As an educator for 17 years, I believe that in that moment of discomfort, where we are right on the edge of what we know and what we don't know, is where the most learning takes place. </div>
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I am invigorated by the unknown. Being taken outside of my comfort zone is turning on all of my neurons.</div>
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I am blessed. "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."</div>
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I am grateful.</div>
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<br />Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-83741877778763009462012-06-20T01:27:00.003-03:002012-06-20T01:27:30.011-03:00I am battling insomia. I have too much on my mind. I feel tired, but as soon as I lay down, I can't sleep. I am facing a major change, and I feel great about it but have so much to do. I started this blog in 2006 as a way to chronicle my adventure to Brasil. Looking back, re-reading, it is clear that I have learned and grown leaps and bounds. I am not the same person I was when I arrived here. So I thought it might be fun to redo <a href="http://www.southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2008/12/i-havent-done-one-of-these-in-awhile.html" target="_blank">this entry</a>--call it a comparitive study. The then and the now...<br />
I am: powerful<br />I know: what I want<br />I want: to make a difference in the world<br />I have: to sell my car<br />I miss: Rio (and I haven't even left yet)<br />I feel: blessed with opportunity<br />I hear: the rain forest, a neighborhood dog, and the hum of an A/C<br />I smell: wet Earth<br />I crave: stimulation<br />I cry: when I think about the distance between friends<br />I search: understanding<br />I wonder: who my friends will be in AL<br />I regret: nothing<br />I love: being amazing<br />I worry: about not having enough time to travel<br />I remember: moments that make my stomach hurt from laughing<br />I dance: as often as I can<br />I don't: say "shouldn't have"<br />I argue: almost never<br />I write: more and more<br />I win: strength<br />I lose: nothing--other than the "stuff" I am giving away due to an international move<br />I wish: some people could come with me always<br />I listen: more than I used to<br />I can usually be found: thinking<br />I am scared: of regret<br />I need: to be passionate<br />I forget: what it was like to be unhappySara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-22713736146409389322012-06-17T16:28:00.001-03:002012-06-18T09:16:29.985-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I would like to thank Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson for introducing the world to the term "the Bucket List."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before writer Jack Zackham's 2007 film, I am not so sure I had EVER heard the phrase used. Now, it seems to be something everybody has--their own "bucket list" or things they want to accomplish before ________ (fill in the blank). In the film, Nicholson's and Freeman's characters, facing the last years of their lives, create a list of things they want to do before they die. As a member of a fairly transient community, the "bucket list" is what people I know want to fulfill before leaving one post and heading to another. Knowing that you are leaving a city/country creates a lot of pressure to make sure you took advantage of all the city/country has to offer.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">About a month ago, we fulfilled one item on Katie and Joe's "bucket list" by having a LONG Brazilian-style Sunday lunch at churrascaria Majorica in Flamengo complete with caipirinhas, gin and tonics, lots-o-carne, and plenty of conversation.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Koa shared his dessert with Ernesto (not really his name, I don't think, but this gentleman acted like the owner of the joint, so I decided to call him Ernesto.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since taking the job in Alabama, many people have been asking me what is on <i>my bucket list</i>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have to admit that I don't really have one...well other than finally making it to Igreja Nossa Senhora da Penha...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">365 (one for each day of the year) steps lead the way to this incredible landmark of Rio de Janeiro. The energy is amazing, calming, overwhelming. I entered the church, knelt in a pew, gave my thanks to God for the blessings and opportunity in my life--the privilege. I cried praise and thanks. Literally. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">However, other than Igreja Penha, I do not have a LIST of things I need to do before my departure from Rio. I sure do look at the city through different eyes though. This weekend, I took advantage of being in Zona Sul and walked everywhere I could. I didn't want to get on a bus or jump in a taxi. I want to walk. I want to feel and smell this city. I want to remember the paths I have taken, yet not taken for granted. I want to tatoo the images in my mind so they are not to be lost.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't think it is possible for me to remove Rio from my senses. Last week, I went to EARJ for Sierra's 8th grade "graduation". I arrived early in order to say farewell/ate logo to a few people. Sitting with the HR Director, reminiscing over the last 6 years, she reminded me what I said upon first entering my Rio apartment in July 2006. I remember it like it was yesterday.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I walked in, I took a deep breath, I closed my eyes, smiling, and said, "Ahhh, it smells like Brasil!" and it did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And since that first deep breath, I have lived. I have enjoyed. I have immersed myself so deeply in this city and this way of life that I am left with no "bucket list". No magic list of things I need to do before I go. I have done all that I wanted along the way. Danced on the beach, hiked to the waterfall, paraded in the Sambadromo, fell in love, road the buses, the metro, the train. I have lived my AmeRIOca dream. Even though the moments are but memories that stay with me, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hope, throughout my life, I encounter smells that bring me back like the first day I walked into my Rio apartment.</span><br />
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<br /> </div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-82710767119875843302012-06-06T14:19:00.000-03:002012-06-06T14:19:40.373-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Longer Than the Bachelor (Part 2)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Courtship (cont'd </span><a href="http://southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2012/06/longer-than-bachelor-part1-i-have-been.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">from</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">And wait I did...3 - 4 weeks I spent waiting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I carried my iPhone in my pocket at all times. I slept with my iPhone next to my pillow in case the ding of a new email should call out to me in the middle of the night. I opened and checked my email at least 50 times (sometimes more) every 30 minutes -- no exaggeration! Just as I had started to feel defeated. Just as I had begun to believe that I must be one of thousands of applicants and not who they want, the email arrived!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Thank you for the opportunity to interview and for your interest in...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I thought for sure it was a rejection letter. I took a deep breath and continued reading.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">We are interested in your experience and expertise. We invite you to participate in the next round of the hiring process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is what I did inside my head!</span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The next round involved answering eight questions. I was given one week to complete and return my responses, via email. I excitedly (and almost immediately) started writing! The topics were invigorating! I read through the list of questions, as my good friend Suzanne looked on, nodding my head, smile growing wider by the second. Suzanne's response: You Got These!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had a blast answering. It was a journey through my career via my passions, and I welcomed the opportunity to slow down and take a look back over the past 17 years. I make reflection a regular habit, but typically the topic timeline is more immediate. The questions forced me to dig deep. It felt good, and I was thrilled to have an audience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">Totally off topic, but I seriously just got cherry syrup all over my keyboard and mouse...ugh...brb</span>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">My responses were sent--2 days ahead of the deadline. At the time I was so excited, then as the waiting continued and I didn't hear back (click play on the video below and continue reading), I began to think, "Maybe I should have waited until the date they said." "Maybe I should not have sent early." "Did my email reach their office?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times;">Mind you, with each step in this process, I was speculating about EVERYTHING</span></div>
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number of candidates</div>
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how long they will take to read the responses</div>
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what are they looking for exactly in the responses</div>
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who is really reading the responses</div>
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I invented my own answer to each of these topics--based on nothing, and that answer changed depending on the day and my level of confidence. I asked my closest friends what they thought, and I gave their answers/explanation great worth. It was maddening.</div>
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Then, just as between steps one and two, right as I was beginning to feel defeated and my patience was dwindling, I received a phone call! Ironically, the phone call came in on a Friday evening and I didn't actually hear the message until Sunday afternoon because I didn't open skype that weekend. Geeze, 48 extra hours of worry for nuthin! :)<br />The rest of the story is really not that exciting. Mostly because it was a mixture of interview/waiting, interview/waiting with little to no contact in between. Again, at various times I told myself they had chosen someone else. Throughout the process I continued to celebrate how far I had come. It was incredibly validating to have an organization of this caliber even consider me. I was proud to have made it "so far" with each step of the way. </div>
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My friends were often unsure whether or not to ask if I had heard anything. I think everyone was secretly scared I would implode if I the offer didn't come through. (I don't <em>think</em> that would have happened, but I am so happy we will never know. It might have been ugly.)<br />
The final night of waiting, after the final interview, my friend Katie says, "Man, Sara this is longer than the Bachelor! You deserve your final rose ceremony! We are celebrating regardless of the outcome because you have survived the process."<br />
I am really happy that I didn't have to have the "you're awesome even though they didn't pick you celebration". Fact.<br />
If you read the first part in this two part series, you know that this position, is what I would call "my dream job". It's not a glamorous position. It's not going to make me filthy rich (at least not monetarily rich). It's not located in the travel destination of your dreams, but it is PERFECTLY me! <br />
I feel so fortunate, so truly blessed, to have the privilege that I have. The chance to do the work that I feel I was put here to do is overwhelming! To realize a dream, a true lifetime dream, elicits these incredible feelings of humility and joy that are totally beyond words.<br />
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To new beginnings and realizing YOUR dreams!<br />
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</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-35578153066851743732012-06-06T13:23:00.000-03:002012-06-06T13:23:50.446-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Channeling Robert Frost</span><br />A reflection about leaving Our Lady of Mercy School</div>
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Mr. Rundle opened the OLM 2012 Commencement Ceremony with a reading of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” As I sat and listened to the poem, remembering from earlier readings the beauty of artful words, I thought to myself, “I took the road less traveled [by], and that HAS made all the difference.” As an expat in Rio de Janeiro, it is not uncommon to be reminded of all the differences choices make. I have been extremely blessed with rich experiences. It is possible, however, that I am channeling Robert Frost as I find myself preparing to enter the road less traveled once again.</div>
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<br />The Southern Poverty Law Center (<a href="http://www.splcenter.org/">www.splcenter.org</a>) is a nonprofit civil rights organization dedicated to fighting hate and bigotry, and to seeking justice for the most vulnerable members of society. They are headquartered in Montgomery, AL. This NGO has an innovative Teaching Tolerance (<a href="http://www.tolerance.org/">www.tolerance.org</a>) program which produces and distributes – free of charge – documentary films, books, lesson plans and other materials that promote tolerance and respect in American schools. I have been offered a position with Teaching Tolerance—my new road revealed.<br />This is particularly exciting to me because I believe the root of American education comes from a promise Americans made in 1964. With the signing of the Civil Rights Act, we promised to educate—equally—all children in the United States of America. This is no small promise however, and 48 years later, my home country continues to work toward fulfilling this promise in materials, practices, facilities, and opportunities for school-aged children in the United States. This “road not taken” gives me the chance to participate in fulfilling a nation’s promise to its children. However appropriate to my individual philosophies and ideals the work at SPLC may be, the decision to take on this challenge, to walk down this road, is by no definition an easy one. I have been a part of the OLM community a mere 11 months, but in that time I have grown a great deal. I have made friends. I have learned. I have shared. I have been reminded of the amazing work that comes out of the presence of faith. “Commit your works to the LORD, and your plans will be established” (Proverbs 16:3).<br />I feel the need to make sure children have an advocate. Plans are established if faith is present. The hardest thing about teaching is definitely reaching all students [teachers] effectively. Working cooperatively requires us to consider the human variable. “Commit your works to the Lord”.<br />And although I am “sorry I could not travel both” roads, I am grateful to OLM for the year of growth it has generously provided me. I am a little scared about this next road that I am about to walk down, but mostly I am excited about the amazing opportunity to create change and fight for social justice.</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-69991859260950270772012-06-04T23:52:00.001-03:002012-06-04T23:52:47.991-03:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Longer than the Bachelor! (Part1)</span></div>
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I have been an educator for 17 years. Most of those years have been as a classroom teacher. My experiences range from inner-city <a href="http://washburn.mpls.k12.mn.us/" target="_blank">Minneapolis, MN</a> to large, urban, public education in <a href="http://www.aldine.k12.tx.us/" target="_blank">Houston, TX</a> to a little bit of the <a href="http://www.anoka.k12.mn.us/education/school/school.php?sectionid=12996" target="_blank">suburbs</a> back in MN and way south to the other side of the equator in <a href="http://www.earj.com.br/" target="_blank">Rio de Janeiro, Brasil</a>. (I spell it with an "s" cuz names are sacred.) Although each stop presented its own uniqueness, each challenged me to find and use resources to the best of my ability.<br />
Early on, I was exposed to <a href="http://www.tolerance.org/" target="_blank">one of the best resources</a> I have ever found, and it became a staple in my pile of teacher resources. The mission of this project, the multiple perspectives represented, the honesty were all characteristics that attracted me to <a href="http://www.splcenter.org/" target="_blank">SPLC</a> and Teaching Tolerance from the beginning.<br />
I told a friend and colleague, around 2002/2003, "Working for Teaching Tolerance is my dream job!"<br />
Little did I know then that I would actually realize that dream one day.<br />
During my third year in Brazil, I was reading my weekly update from <a href="http://www.ascd.org/" target="_blank">ASCD</a> and browsed the job postings at the bottom. That was the first time I heard the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoX7vd30zq8" target="_blank">alarm</a>. Teaching Tolerance was hiring a Teaching and Learning Specialist--My DREAM JOB! But...<br />
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I wasn't ready to leave Rio...can you blame me?<br />
I closed the job posting, went about with my day--which probably means I went straight to<br />
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Barraca do Nildo in front of Cesar Park Hotel in Ipanema because that is where I spent most of my non-work days the last six years!<br />
However, life is fluid and unpredictable and if I have learned anything I have learned not to say NEVER! Well, I have also learned not to say "should have, would have, or could have" too.<br />
So, back in February, again while reading my weekly ASCD newsletter, I scrolled to the job board at the bottom and what do I see? The same posting for Teaching Tolerance that I saw three years ago!<br />
Am I ready to leave my Rio now?<br />
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Deixa a Vida Me Levar!<br />
I don't know. Rio is in my blood. It's part of my sould. I am AmeRIOca! I love it here and I love my friends here and I love my life here and it's been a GREAT six years.<br />
So I threw my name in the mix. I sent what the posting asked for: resume, cover letter, and sample curriculum-based writing sample, and I waited...<br />
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And since this process has been 3 months in the making...<br />
the rest of the story will have to come later...<br />
Until then...<br />
Enjoy one of my favorite songs from Brasilian artist Djavan<br />
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<br />Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-11080037228166073642012-05-22T09:09:00.000-03:002012-05-22T09:09:53.695-03:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chasing the Rainbow (Part 4)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Passion. Integrity. Perspective. <b>Humility.</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><u>Humility</u></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The fact that I am passionate, have integrity, and value perspective means that I go all out in just about everything that I do. Just about because sometimes even I get tired. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">What does it mean to be humble? to have humility?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">It means that I realize that I have to remember that everybody has their limitations. It means that each one of us is AMAZING in our own way. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Two recent conversations are the inspiration for this post.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The first happened about three weeks ago. I was driving with a new-found friend to one of Rio's amazing out-of-the-city <a href="http://www.panoramio.com/photo/15740432" target="_blank">beaches</a>. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Our conversation was bouncing around various topics when we stopped at a redlight and were handed, through the car window, a brochure for a new apartment complex development--this is not uncommon in Rio. The slogan for this particular complex: <i>Pra viver bem e uma arte. </i>(To live well is an art.) Isn't that the truth!! As we continued driving, our conversation regarding "the good life" and "living well" ensued. Both of us talked about the need for God in our daily life, the need for treating ourselves well, our bodies are our temples. However, my friend said something that REALLY hit me. He said, "Sara, if we all just live our lives trying to make the person next to us better, we could all be happy, healthy, successful, living the art."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I was like, HOLY SMOKES! That is SO true. So I tested it. I thought about being in traffic--which I can sincerely say I hate--and letting the person next to me merge even though they were coming from the shoulder not an actual lane. I thought about standing in line at the grocery store with a cart full of items and letting the person behind me with three items go first. I thought about sharing the knowledge of my practice while listening to the faculty, with the frame of mind that I too am learning. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">In ALL situations, the end result is win/win. It's really true. Humility. One has to let go of egocentric desires and the need to be "right" or "first". But if we can manage that, karma seems to kick in, and good things happen! If we all just live our life so that the person next to us is better. So simple, yet so complex.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The second conversation that inspired this post happened just yesterday at lunch. I ate with the music teacher and a Catholic brother. This music teacher is a phenomenal person! Since first joining the faculty at my current school, this man is always positive, always shows gratitude for any help I provide, and is always smiling. Literally! ALWAYS smiling. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Yesterday, we talked about happiness. We talked about friends we have who are highly successful professionally. Friends who have the expensive house, car, material belongings, yet they are unhappy. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">His bottom line: <i>I know who I am. I am happy with who I am.</i> He quoted a line from the 1968 Peter Seller's film <i>The Party</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The line he said has stuck with him for a number of years is when one character (sorry I don't know the film) asks Sellers: <b>Who do you think you are?</b> And Peter Seller's character replies: <b>I don't think who I am, I KNOW who I am.</b> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Humility. The brother went on, referencing <i>The Lion King</i>. That moment in the movie when Simba sees his reflection for the first time in lake and Rafiki appears in the reflection too. Is it his father? Or is it The Father? Brother added the spiritual element to our conversation at lunch (not surprising, he is a man of the church afterall). However, the need to have faith, belief in something bigger than us, belief that we don't own the control but instead are here to do the work of something bigger. This generates humility.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">We are human. We screw up. We are constantly evolving and learning and living. To do so with humility and grace is most certainly an art!</span></span></div>
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</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-30146829320765378362012-04-29T12:08:00.002-03:002012-04-29T12:16:48.753-03:00<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chasing
the Rainbow (Part 3)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Passion.
Integrity. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Perspective.</b> Humility<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Perspective.</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I have stared at this picture for 15 minutes straight. I
see a young woman, looking away. Some people see an elderly lady when they look
at this picture. Am I wrong in thinking it’s a young woman? Are others wrong
for thinking it’s an old lady? Is it possible that it is both, at the same
time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">How many arguments have you had in your life that revolved
around perspective? How many hours have you spent of your (insert age) years trying
to convince another person to “see it your way”? I know I have spent countless.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In my younger years, I would get frustrated and often angry
when I was unsuccessful in getting the other person to see things <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">my way</b>. Then, somewhere along the
lines, I grew up a little—only a little because I continue to grow even though
I’m pushin 40! What I realize is that it’s ok if another person doesn’t see my
same reality or if I don’t understand hers. However, it’s NOT ok if I fail to
recognize that the other reality exists, I don’t have to understand or agree
with it. That’s where my thoughts about perspective become crucial.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you combine <a href="http://www.southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2012/04/chasing-rainbowpart-1-passion.html" target="_blank">passion</a> and<a href="http://www.southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2012/04/chasing-rainbowpart-1-passion.html" target="_blank"> integrity</a> with perspective, it
is imperative to recognize the emotional element, and emotion forces us to
respond/react to a situation instead of think about the the parts of the situation. Passion
risks emotional drive, yet integrity pulls that emotion back to the bigger
picture where perspective plays a part.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Take
for example the film<span style="font-size: large;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Heart<heart>
<heart> Huckabees</heart></heart></i>.</span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The main character goes to an existential counselor for
intervention. In his initial consultation, Lily Tomlin’s character says, “My associate
will look at your case from a different angle.” He asks, “What angle?” And
Tomlin replies, “He will investigate your perception of reality.”<o:p></o:p></span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The film goes on to demonstrate how reality and perception influence
our actions, our existence. A couple of the characters end up pretty messed up…check
out the film. In the end, it’s what I believe to be essential to our
interdependence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We crave being understood. We seek to understand others and our existence and what it all means.
Sometimes we search self-awareness through others, seems oxymoronic in some
ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The bottom line: if we let go of our egos, believe that
those around us do not intentionally do things to hurt us, look for
understanding in where the other comes from, discourse and interaction will
never go wrong. It doesn’t mean we always agree. It means we give up having to
be “right” or finding the "wrong". It means we develop compassion and empathy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Although I have tried, I still don’t see the old lady. Does
that mean she doesn’t exist? No, it means I must remain open to understanding
that someone else sees her. That someone else could maybe point her out for me, help me to see something in a new way and grow.</span></div>
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</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-88794391334607930692012-04-27T20:44:00.002-03:002012-04-28T13:16:11.751-03:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 18pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Chasing the Rainbow (Part
2)<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">Passion.
<b>Integrity.</b> Perspective. Humility.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">Integrity.</span></span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">Synonyms for
integrity include: honesty, truth, and principle. In my mind reliability and
veracity are most similar to integrity. I honor my integrity. Is that redundant?
I don’t think so because what it means is that being reliable and veracious are
essential. I look for this in others and am conscious of reflecting this in my
personal actions.<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">What does </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMYYOXTuUeQ"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">the woman on the street</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> think
it means to have integrity?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">The right thing
is not always the easy thing. In fact, the right thing is almost always the
harder of the choices we make. But if we make a pledge to live our life with
integrity, then it means making tough calls and hard decisions. Sometimes the
right thing is relatively simple (not to be mistaken for easy). For example,
when the cashier gives you back too much change at the supermarket. Do you walk
away happy for her error? Or, do you correct her and keep only the change owed?</span>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPz2BEUpzSqaPFnKdhyphenhyphenmdmAolDiRgeab-YgDQftNMNOooRxvAYhP0tPCaS9fZciLgk6T0v6U5EB7gUTIT7yB3F74BKwGuABkKTf6gbkkwCNeypjimTn4hccG9SeGV8AsxKTwh/s1600/firstbills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLPz2BEUpzSqaPFnKdhyphenhyphenmdmAolDiRgeab-YgDQftNMNOooRxvAYhP0tPCaS9fZciLgk6T0v6U5EB7gUTIT7yB3F74BKwGuABkKTf6gbkkwCNeypjimTn4hccG9SeGV8AsxKTwh/s200/firstbills.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">Sometimes the right
thing is incredibly complex; like sticking up to the bully on the playground or
confronting a friend about his cheating on a test.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">Having
integrity gets lonely. Two things play into this feeling of loneliness; 1)
people love to gossip; stories get scewed and rumors fly because people have varying perspectives (I plan to talk about perspective in the next segment of this series, "Chasing the Rainbow"); and, 2) it’s hard for people to accept when they have
made a mistake without getting angry or offended (remember how having integrity is
often the hard choice?). I accept that loneliness, however. I want to be able to Look at myself in the mirror. If
I am doing what shows integrity, I can face the naysayers and still enjoy my
reflection. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">Having
integrity means helping people. This is pretty much what I was talking about
when I wrote <a href="http://www.southamericansara.blogspot.com.br/2011/11/enough-this-picture-is-enough-for-me.html" target="_blank">Enough</a> in November of 2011 . </span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; line-height: 115%;">Seriously
think about the world IF everybody does the right thing, if everybody helps one another, if everybody <i>gives</i>. Give
of yourself, your time, your knowledge, your talents, your shoulder, your smile, your
company. To think Anne Frank, at 14-years-old has this figured out 70+ years
ago is pretty amazing. (*Anne's essay "Give" is in the last tab of this <a href="http://www.ushmm.org/museum/exhibit/online/af/htmlsite/story/index.html" target="_blank">online exhibit</a>. Listen to it. It will make you think.)</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">Don’t get me
wrong. I don’t want to come across as self-righteous, but I do believe
integrity is about righteousness. It’s about doing the right thing and standing up for what is right. Sometimes it means going against the pack or being the odd-man-out.</span> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLbFe0Y618oO_N0eVdLf19fBkieEoZI35gUJgu2_E2jneXNknoeP-_9hAp1k951csXVR6eoSgV6ASE66745R1zYXV56vYZxKVliWy7168SXxVWJO9EhvDEZf3sxA7RYSxP7G_/s1600/standupforwhatis+right.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLbFe0Y618oO_N0eVdLf19fBkieEoZI35gUJgu2_E2jneXNknoeP-_9hAp1k951csXVR6eoSgV6ASE66745R1zYXV56vYZxKVliWy7168SXxVWJO9EhvDEZf3sxA7RYSxP7G_/s200/standupforwhatis+right.gif" width="140" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">How about when no one is watching?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-size: large;">Integrity is <b>my word</b>. It's knowing that what I say is what I mean, what I claim is what I believe, what I demonstrate is what I expect from others.</span> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-nLLIML7nF8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">I want to live a life of integrity.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">-Part 3 of this series , Perspective, to come...soon...</span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-50586591717972679922012-04-27T10:01:00.000-03:002012-04-28T13:33:10.034-03:00<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 18pt;">Chasing the Rainbow
(Part 1)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Passion.</b>
Integrity. Perspective. Humility.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">The
four core elements of who I am. Most of us spend our entire life chasing the proverbial
rainbow. Running after romance, dedicating countless hours to earning a degree,
peddling uphill after the position of our dreams, sustaining a system for
happiness. There are moments when each goal is within our grasp and moments
when each is just beyond our fingertips. What helps one to hold on or to climb
that final stair depends on what lies in the foundation of each one of us. I am
chasing my own rainbow. Right now the pot-of-gold is just beyond my fingertips,
and I am digging deep to reach it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">MY
life’s journey has led me to this point. I can feel it. I know it. Everything I
have done and everything that I am has prepared me for exactly where I am
today. The only thing I am surer of is my unwavering love for my daughter, so
the fact that the pot-of-gold is so close yet so far has me thinking and
reflecting while I am forced to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">My
friend <a href="http://seedifly.blogspot.com.br/"><span style="color: red;">Diane</span></a> advised me,
"Identify the four things that are your core. The elements you bring with
you every day, to every situation you face." It was good advice. I will
use this advice to help me process while climbing. Here’s the first of a four
part series I’ll call “Chasing the Rainbow”: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">PASSION</span></u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">How do you define
passion? Maybe you define it like the <a href="http://youtu.be/Z7CtarYjClw"><span style="color: red;">Man
on the Street</span></a> . Maybe sex, like several of the people caught off-guard in
this video, comes to mind first when you hear PASSION. Or maybe God is what you
think about—The Passion of Christ. Maybe it’s a sport. Living in Brazil, I sure
have observed lots of passion for <a href="http://youtu.be/7ueZjzgCme8"><span style="color: red;">soccer</span></a>.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Me1TbRn1T4DDEEJRqewa7AWp-3gcyNHKbIigcRxlDHB1MLb394xSUkoedBIaPbwafGQbLVTFCPhBfG39gtMS-Y3a4zRntG0TDdOaMSilfV27g7ZVbokCmMso8FuV61e02yyd/s1600/ducks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Me1TbRn1T4DDEEJRqewa7AWp-3gcyNHKbIigcRxlDHB1MLb394xSUkoedBIaPbwafGQbLVTFCPhBfG39gtMS-Y3a4zRntG0TDdOaMSilfV27g7ZVbokCmMso8FuV61e02yyd/s200/ducks.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">Passion is what
drives me. I'm not a perfectionist by any definition, but I want to be perfect
in what I do. In approach. In effort. In energy I exert. I am passionate. If I
cannot give 110% to a task, the task is not mine to perform. It's a great trait
for the type A personality, which I am not by any means, because it fosters the
need to line up the ducks.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">However, Passion, for
me, is about caring. About resisting apathy. About understanding that all we do
has a result, which creates another situation, which in turn creates a result,
and in turn…you get it. It’s what makes this world continue spinning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">Passion implores me
to ask, “Why?” It implores me to assess how everything fits together to form
the big picture. It pushes me to greatness and perfection. It prevents me from
settling on OK and pushes me to Great! Passion pushes. It inspires. It begs to
be imitated. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">Look what Roger Bannister's passion encouraged him to do:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">And what Passion encouraged 37 people to do the year following this race.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt;">I want to be GREAT!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
<o:p></o:p></span>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-16462997343456737832011-12-03T21:28:00.000-02:002011-12-03T21:28:15.171-02:00<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I miss Home Depot<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Living abroad, I often say, “This is so much easier in Brazil than in the U.S.” and I often say, “This is so much easier in the U.S. than in Brazil.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Lately, it’s been the second of those two perspectives that I seem to be voicing more often. It may come from the fact that we are trying to contract a builder to construct the wall/pool/barbeque area, etc. on the lot next to the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">First estimate: R$15,000 NOT including material. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Wow! So, I would pay someone else to do it for basically 3 reasons:<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s hard work and it’s getting hot (well not this week but soon it’ll be summer in this tropical country)<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I work a <s>full</s> part-time job and don’t really want to also build something in my off time<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I don’t have the faintest idea what to buy or WHERE to buy it (materials) that’s why I need a professional.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, the other night my friend <a href="http://seedifly.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: blue;">Diane</span></a> says, “Sara, why don’t you fly someone down to do it?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was like: HUH?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She continues: “You HAVE to know people in the states, builders, construction people. Those people would not mind a holiday in Rio de Janeiro basically free of charge. It would most likely be done faster and better than with anyone you hire here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And I thought: HMMMM, interesting idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then this morning, the second team showed up to give us an estimate. This new father son team will do the wall AND the pool together—and perhaps prepare the barbeque area. They’ll bring the estimate next Tuesday. We made sure to ask them for an estimate<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> with</b> material <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">and</b> an estimate without cost of material. After all, it’s the bottom line that we really need to know. And of course the workmanship, so they told us we can visit some existing sites these two are responsible for to see their end product(s).<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, this afternoon, after wandering one of the biggest malls in the city (EW!) for 3 hours—I really need the sun to come out. I’m bored with the rain.) Sierra and I went to <a href="http://etna.com.br/"><span style="color: blue;">Etna</span></a> looking for blinds for her bedroom window.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her window is 120 cm X 120 cm<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In stock: 70 X 140, 170 X 120, and just about everything else in between.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, I found the nearest store employee to ask, “Do you all have any more blinds in stock?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Store employee: “No, what we have is out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Me: “Do you cut the blinds that are here to fit the customer’s need?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Store employee: “No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Me to self: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Man I miss Home Depot</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If we were in the states…we would be at the register, paying for our faux wood blinds, and heading home to hang them.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the end, Joaocemar (the name of the store employee who helped us) asked me for my phone number in order to call me the first part of next week when the next shipment arrives. When he entered my number into his cell phone, I thought, “Hmm, is that your work phone?” He said the blinds arrive and leave the store pretty fast. I said then call me right away. I live here, close, and I’ll come as soon as you call. And again, thought to myself <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">man, I miss Home Depot.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Final thought? If you are a builder or know a builder who would like an all-expense paid vacation to Rio de Janeiro, includes room and board during the project, send me contact information. One criterion: he/she must stop by Home Depot on his/her way to the airport to pick up <a href="http://blinds.homedepot.com/index.php?category=501&item=04769&moreinfo=true&formname=moreinfo"><span style="color: blue;">white, 2 inch faux wood blinds</span></a> for my daughter’s bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-67476353571713251122011-11-15T20:27:00.000-02:002011-11-15T20:27:44.296-02:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="hps"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="hps"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">A única coisa</span></span><span style="font-family: Broadway;"> <span class="hps">que se muda</span> <span class="hps">é o endereço.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="hps"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span class="hps"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Ever been to a rodeo? Cow ropin? Hog tyin? Barrel racin?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Spent any time around Cowboys?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiny0zR5dNRzqa9Ftf7CSf4ROkTy7iPEgKMzD9sTOIW2A2GdeqEAlIjXxGF4k7xV8hYYRQAXoEvv5ua-ksOaq5HOFX-50UgCabQiUDa_xX1ngfRyh1ckqlv2H1KtqT9eX0_IkQm/s1600/barrelracing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiny0zR5dNRzqa9Ftf7CSf4ROkTy7iPEgKMzD9sTOIW2A2GdeqEAlIjXxGF4k7xV8hYYRQAXoEvv5ua-ksOaq5HOFX-50UgCabQiUDa_xX1ngfRyh1ckqlv2H1KtqT9eX0_IkQm/s200/barrelracing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Broadway;">This is a diagram of the traditional <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">course</i> for barrel racing. The video below is a different type of competition. I'm not sure of the name.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">If you answered yes to any of the above questions, answer this:<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Been to more than one rodeo in different towns? Different states? Different countries?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">I won’t say that I “grew up around the rodeo”, but my small town of <a href="http://www.cityofisanti.us/">Isanti, MN</a> hosted one of the largest rodeos in the state every summer. I was no stranger to the weekend excitement every July.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">I won’t say that I “grew up around horses”, but, by the time I turned 12, I was an experienced rider. (Oh how I wanted my own horse when I was kid.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">I won’t say that I “grew up on a farm”, but my father did and as a child we grew or raised <span style="font-family: Broadway; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">(or my father hunted) </span>pretty much everything my family ate on the 12.5 acres we called home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: Broadway; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">All of that </span></span>must be why, while visiting my friend Francesca <span style="font-family: Broadway; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">this past weekend</span>—whose daughter recently became a proud horse owner, I was in no way put off by the prospect of watching some barrel racing in <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&biw=1366&bih=651&tbm=isch&tbnid=7n8IQFhGIQ2edM:&imgrefurl=http://www.weather-forecast.com/locations/Macae&docid=CO4WHtuYiZRN_M&imgurl=http://www.weather-forecast.com/locationmaps/Macae.8.jpg&w=600&h=371&ei=t93CTvWMLMe4tgfziOG2DQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=1037&vpy=159&dur=27&hovh=176&hovw=286&tx=175&ty=80&sig=108948486754840974089&page=1&tbnh=112&tbnw=181&start=0&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:5,s:0">Macae,RJ, Brasil.</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">What I did not know, was how much I would recognize. For example:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/4uP87KZGKEY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Cowboys love country music and God (listen to the song in the background and notice as this young rider makes the sign of the cross after her run)</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9x0AvShwKgPSIARsE_4Ixz91g0NFlRHZ24SsVIb9CNMxYo6JjmJMaNfcIgU1FHvqZNItxipZ0lNUnYovbHgXg1XTNCYvYb5EmaCXhyphenhyphen1ttOlO7OtuSYUVMinX2JknZMH7wFuC/s1600/sisomeat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9x0AvShwKgPSIARsE_4Ixz91g0NFlRHZ24SsVIb9CNMxYo6JjmJMaNfcIgU1FHvqZNItxipZ0lNUnYovbHgXg1XTNCYvYb5EmaCXhyphenhyphen1ttOlO7OtuSYUVMinX2JknZMH7wFuC/s200/sisomeat.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Skewered meat/barbeque goes hand-in-hand with ranchin’ (and cold beer).</span></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEOJmWNhGxli1JLPNeuTDPpa-P43MMJmRKv9byKXnOxTCpqEltRsBuVtaV1GyLCR_JmaKDSnhcXuKbiPWxsXUvyb_37Pwt5nSx8iG3ej1lDdhLS8Gs-YOJ1vrC4owp6s57vme/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEOJmWNhGxli1JLPNeuTDPpa-P43MMJmRKv9byKXnOxTCpqEltRsBuVtaV1GyLCR_JmaKDSnhcXuKbiPWxsXUvyb_37Pwt5nSx8iG3ej1lDdhLS8Gs-YOJ1vrC4owp6s57vme/s200/photo.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Broadway;">Farms are dirty.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20YNgu9M9rOFfoHwgpgJYwnoHaYYsai5K_Em01kV83aKYFtitwtx10f22s1Ovpf0SIp_cgNhREbc_H8snc2uvJg1ubKGKlzfZg3JPINeCEzS_MyhaoiS2tqS5WxuIpSfIlxFa/s1600/unclebob.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20YNgu9M9rOFfoHwgpgJYwnoHaYYsai5K_Em01kV83aKYFtitwtx10f22s1Ovpf0SIp_cgNhREbc_H8snc2uvJg1ubKGKlzfZg3JPINeCEzS_MyhaoiS2tqS5WxuIpSfIlxFa/s200/unclebob.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">That my father and my uncles have Brazilian twins.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">This man, from behind, looked so much like my Uncle Bob I wanted to give him a hug. There was another man competing who resembled my father; Sierra pointed him out but not in time to snap his foto.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">It was such a fun experience to be around generous, kind-hearted, fun-loving people who literally spent 12+ hours on the ranch, racin and having a great time that day--in the hot Brazilian sun might I add. While we were all exhausted, drove back the 30 minutes to Francesca's oceanfront apartment, took hot showers, put on clean clothes, not covered in dust and smelling like horse, ate pasta, and crashed. The Cowboys and Cowgirls, on the other hand, finished their day of fun with a heel tappin, yee-hawin barn dance 'til dawn. </span></div><div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/PjLwNKThoiY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">For a minute, I wished I had a horse and was a Cowgirl too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;">I guess some things are the same no matter where you go. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Broadway;"><span style="font-size: large;">The only thing that changes is the address.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-63852906939062556962011-11-03T21:33:00.000-02:002011-11-03T21:33:41.062-02:00<span style="font-size: large;">On being Catholic</span>I have been thinking about my religion a lot lately. If someone asks, I always answer, "I'm Catholic." However, I, like many other Catholics around the world, cannot name the last time I attended mass. I, unlike many other Catholics around the world, don't really feel guilty for this.<br />
I am not sure whether or not I should feel guilty for it. I don't know if it makes me a <em>bad Catholic</em> because I don't feel guilty, but I don't.<br />
Despite the fact that I don't regularly attend mass, I am very spiritual and very faith filled. Most people don't know that I pray daily. Most people don't know that I put great weight in Divine Power and Divine Intervention and Divine Direction. Most people don't know that I often turn my eyes toward the sky and say, "What is it you want me to learn Lord? I'm trying to listen, I really am, but I just am not hearing you."<br />
My faith not something I openly share. It's not for sharing. It's personal. It's mine--my faith, my belief, my conversations with God. I don't want to share them necessarily or need to.<br />
So why am I writing about being Catholic and having faith and talking to God on my public blog you might ask.<br />
Because today something so incredible happened, I want to share it. I want to voice it for fear that it will disappear if I don't. I want others to hear it because maybe others have had the same experience and think they are alone.<br />
When I woke up this morning, everything was different. The smell in the air was different. The green in the trees outside my bedroom window was different. The pink across the sky as the sun rose was different. The kindness of the other commuters on the road was different. The reflection of the mountains on the ocean was different. As I made my way to work, I caught myself looking at the same scenery I see everyday as if I was seeing it for the first time. And I caught myself smiling for no apparent reason. I found myself saying, "Thank You Lord" outloud.<br />
I felt this overwhelming sense of peace. I felt this overwhelming sense of direction (which was incredible to feel since of late I have felt VERY lost/without direction). I felt such a presence of God. <br />
It reminded me of a song a friend shared with me about 10 years ago. A song that had struck a chord the first time I heard it and struck a chord again today. It explains what was happening to my view of the world this morning.<br />
Instead of looking for miracles and not seeing any, I was looking for where there wasn't one. Seeing miracles all around me, I smiled. I think I am starting to truly believe...<br />
<br />
when we feel the most discomfort, we learn the most;<br />
when we feel the most out of place, we are truest to our needs;<br />
when we feel that we are wandering alone, He is there;<br />
<br />
If we trust...<br />
If we listen...<br />
If we see...<br />
If we believe.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KiypaURysz4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>I believe.Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-27059353133470162392011-11-01T10:04:00.000-02:002011-11-01T10:04:13.613-02:00<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Enough?<o:p></o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMo2R9PjDT61sE_wuUY5QtQAuD8goA2LxIxEOUKrPRn8u4V_AoMSsmfIJZHFNsKAfl8v8ljznMfbSMCzlB1IUtpg-wAJblsxNhkXRSs4lSvVFjBzdWPLsWnpHTwnFo0IsXYREU/s1600/ussalvador2009.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMo2R9PjDT61sE_wuUY5QtQAuD8goA2LxIxEOUKrPRn8u4V_AoMSsmfIJZHFNsKAfl8v8ljznMfbSMCzlB1IUtpg-wAJblsxNhkXRSs4lSvVFjBzdWPLsWnpHTwnFo0IsXYREU/s320/ussalvador2009.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This picture is <u>enough</u> for me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">What is enough? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Time with my loved ones. Time to myself. Hours in the day. Money in the bank. This isn’t a new question for me. It’s one I revisit from time to time. It’s one I like to pause and think about. It was the recent loss of Steve Jobs that inspired the reflection this time. This man not only changed the way we communicate; he changed the way we think, the way we think about the way we think and communicate. His death led to an array of inspirational Facebook status updates, reminding us all to be creative, try, never give up, don’t let failure stop us, be true to our heart’s song, and think outside the box. The world mourned the loss of a great man. I have to admit, I didn’t know his name before he died. I Googled him. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s true. The first posting about his death I read on Facebook led me straight to Google. I clicked on that first Wikipedia link and thought, “Oh! That’s who that is. How sad.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Not long after, I saw this:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFykLlzxhCzr8rIli3mlkDGFD2Svp5SCgxwLnbAAS9ngTnUdwdyy9XaaChkDwY_ihYxK-j3L2C7ebNcJRWjsLdNflaRSbHT4BQWS1IWGaksJiwwC5n5hE0ge_JzHV82VPcDGo/s1600/gaystarv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFykLlzxhCzr8rIli3mlkDGFD2Svp5SCgxwLnbAAS9ngTnUdwdyy9XaaChkDwY_ihYxK-j3L2C7ebNcJRWjsLdNflaRSbHT4BQWS1IWGaksJiwwC5n5hE0ge_JzHV82VPcDGo/s1600/gaystarv.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I didn’t need to Google anyone to understand.</span><o:p></o:p></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Then <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw this:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv08OVsFY6HQCXDWhiIn88eQqESJ11IdXx28PFuKrV3bfhLH44lMwsZYcIBFC2sL2C3MLoNgye742hwmI3SNOXeZ6Bz7isXoSjpe-SWkTAp53x2vMnmBSIqGXghzk-f4iNIwF5/s1600/onemandies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv08OVsFY6HQCXDWhiIn88eQqESJ11IdXx28PFuKrV3bfhLH44lMwsZYcIBFC2sL2C3MLoNgye742hwmI3SNOXeZ6Bz7isXoSjpe-SWkTAp53x2vMnmBSIqGXghzk-f4iNIwF5/s1600/onemandies.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">At first, I was offended by this one, but I wasn’t sure why. I thought about it. I realized, it was because I felt it was disrespectful to Steve Jobs’ survivors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I thought, maybe I’m offended because I feel guilty, and I began to wonder. Is it possible to get so lost on our own individual path that we forget to look around us? Have I forgotten to look around me? Do we get carried away with wanting more and forget to see how much we have? Have I become selfish? Are we really successfully living in a world where international news is literally a nanosecond click away, thanks to the man on the left, yet we ignore the reality in the photo on the right? (There’s something ironic in that, isn’t there?) What do I know about the world today? At times, I think I am choosing to live in the neatly enclosed bubble I created.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I am blessed. I am privileged. Regardless of the number of times I get caught up and think I need more, I am among the rich of this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously, what are my daily concerns?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Will I oversleep and be late to work?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Will the pool be installed by the time the weather turns hot?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Will there be enough hours in my work week to get done what I am responsible for?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Is there gas in my car?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Is there coffee?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Do I have clean underwear? (ok, not really a legitimate thought, but it’s about the caliber of concern listed here, so it fits.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">What if. What if I had to worry about where my child will sleep at night? What if I had to worry about medical care for myself or my loved ones? What if I had to live in constant fear for my safety? What if I was illiterate? <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Enough wealth? Measured in what way? Evaluated by whom? Do you have enough? Could you give more? Could you live more simply?</span></div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-44538952587893064552011-10-06T09:45:00.000-03:002011-10-06T09:45:02.792-03:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Trying to be productive…<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This will be short. I am in month 3 of a new job, new house, new schedule, new everything. I keep using the excuse that I am adjusting for the times when I feel less productive. What is the statute of limitation on adjusting time? I now struggle with the battle of self-destruction. I should be adjusted by now. I should have accomplished more today. I should…blah blah blah. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Enough of the should have. I am DOING.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So although I am hungry for another inspiration to post about, I am going to keep this short and scrub the verandah floor so I can see the fruit of my productivity concretely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-69504365415292285112011-09-16T22:15:00.002-03:002011-09-16T22:15:25.154-03:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 26pt; line-height: 115%;">When she looks back, what will she say?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I was 7 months pregnant with Sierra, I closed on my first house. I swore to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never make my baby live in an apartment.</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Never</u></i> is a dangerous word. We need to be careful when we use this word. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I brought my darling daughter home to a house; it wasn’t exactly a home though. We lived there two years before I decided <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I want a bigger house</i>. What I know now is that I was running away from what I had created, and I thought more space was the answer. Needless to say, I bought, we moved in to, and I sold the second house of my daughter’s life in under a year. (Details of the chain of events which led to that omitted purposefully.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I found myself, almost 30, a single mother, and moving back <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>, with my parents…pretty much every independent American’s worst nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare though; it was wonderful—thank God. The year and a half Sierra and I lived with my parents afforded her a relationship with her grandparents she would not have otherwise had if life had dealt us a different hand. It was also a time in my adult life that, like it or not, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i> Mom and Dad, and I am extremely thankful that they had the means to be there for me during that time. I am luckier than many because they were, and it afforded me a relationship with my parents I would not have otherwise had.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After a year and half, I was able to buy my third house. It was a townhouse, but it was the last unit. We had a yard and space for a barbeque, and it was all ours. We lived there for almost three years, and I liquidated every last item (minus four boxes and three suitcases worth) when I decided to pick up and move my daughter to another country—to what kind of living arrangement you ask; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>an APARTMENT. Remember that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>never</u></i> phrase I mentioned, well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>never</u></i> is a dangerous word.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We enjoyed five years in our 10<sup>th</sup> floor Rio apartment, overlooking the Lagoa, Rocinha, and a distant view of the ocean. More than a dozen kids for Sierra to play with and never leave the apartment complex. We had two pools, a gym, a large play area, 24 hour security, friendly doormen, and a <u>home</u>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And I just traded that in. I lived in that apartment longer than any other place in the 20 years since first leaving my parents home. BUT…We are back in a <u>house</u>, and it is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">HOME</i>. It’s comfortable, warm, welcoming, peaceful. It feels good here. But…<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You knew there would be a but, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s FAR. It’s far from Sierra’s school. It’s far from my work. It’s far from most of her friends. It’s far from most of my friends. It’s far from the beach. Distance-wise, it’s only 20 kilometers (12.43 miles). It’s actually closer to my work than my mom’s and dad’s house was when we lived with them 10 years ago. But we live in a mega-tropolis, and traffic makes even a few kilometers (or miles) long sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We average an hour to go to school in the mornings and an hour and a half to come home. 2-3 days a week Sierra is riding public transportation to get to and from school, and the time this consumes in her day can be one hour to three hours depending on…traffic, the weather, the attitude of the drivers, the position of the moon in relation to the Earth…you name it, it’s unpredictable in the end. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">With that said, I recently find myself thinking: What is she going to say when she’s an adult and she looks back on this time in her life. Will she have fond memories of our beautiful, peaceful, welcoming home? Or, will she tell her friends, partner, colleagues what a chore it was to be so far away after five years of being in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world? Will she resent me for the choices I made and forced her to live? Or, will she thank me for the opportunities I provided her?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I hope it’s the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-62616397973997978412011-09-07T21:37:00.001-03:002011-09-07T21:38:36.156-03:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Memory Loss?</span>I received an email once, you know, the mass forwarded email with a message that says you'll have eternal good luck if you forward it on to eight people. I don't remember exactly what the email said, but it had something to do with friends and the kind of friend they are. Something about how people come into your life for a reason, to complete a purpose. If you have friends for a short time or a lifetime, they are equally as important because the reason for that person entering your life is significant and perhaps something you don't know or won't ever know for that matter. <br />
This is so true. I think I'm losing my memory. I seem to have a hard time remembering details. I vaguely remember having been somewhere or seen something or a weekend trip. Then something happens to jog my memory and it comes back--usually. Or someone retells the whole story and in the end I say, "OOOOHHH! I remember!"<br />
George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" was on the radio this morning as I drove to the beach. I could sing along word for word, and I did. I don't think I've actually heard that song in 20 years, but I turned up the volume and sang along, not missing a beat (Bira looked at me strangely a couple of times during the song). As the song was coming to an end, I found myself smiling (not because the song is ridiculously perverted). I found myself smiling because I was 17 again, in Hibbing, MN at the Holiday Basketball Tournament with Dee Tousignant, in our hotel room, decorating the last of the door signs for the guys on the basketball team, eating Wheat Thins with peanut butter covered in chocolate, and screaming our lungs out to George Michael. Yet I can't remember what I did last Sunday.<br />
Living in a foreign country messes with my memory too. I think it's because I still don't think in Portuguese all the time, and being an expatriate means people come and go--a lot. You make new friends and you say good-by--a lot. It's hard at first, especially if you aren't used to the transient life. But a person adjusts, and it ends up being kinda cool in the end when you can say things like: my friends in Abu Dabi, or this friend of mine in Mexico...and things like Skype and Facebook make keeping in touch with people living internationally easier and the loneliness or <em>saudades</em> manageable.<br />
I met one of <em>those</em> friends this week for breakfast. She lives in Luanda. She's here until January because she's pregnant with her first baby and Luanda doesn't have adequate health care facilities to provide the pre-natal, delivery, post natal care she wants/needs/deserves. We met for breakfast at 7:45; I left her house to go to work at noon! There was barely a moment of silence between us as we caught one another up on what life has been like in the two plus a few months since she and her husband left Rio. And we barely scratched the surface. It was great to see her, spend time with her, know that she is healthy and happy and growing (literally at the moment since she's pregnant). But more importantly, I left thinking about that email. The one I received, about friends coming in and out, for a lifetime or for a moment. My visit with my friend who lives in Luanda left me reminiscing about the first couple of years I lived here in Rio. Memories of afternoons on the beach, my first trip to Ilha Grande, my first Escola de Samba enseio, The Black Eyed Peas on Ipanema Beach for New Year's Eve...memories I had thought I had forgotten. <br />
Sometimes we think we have control of our own lives and then something happens, and we are reminded that we in fact are not the ones guiding this passage. We make decisions or leaps of faith in a moment or over time. We share our joys, and our pains, with others. We strive to be successful, to do the <em>right</em> thing. We congratulate our friends on a job well done or a promotion, and we say good-bye.<br />
I'm starting to believe that perhaps my quase-amnesia (so I have self-diagnosed anyway) is all part of this grander scheme. Maybe I'm not supposed to remember everything all the time. Maybe <em>forgetting</em> for a little while makes the moment when I remember that much sweeter...and it's meant to be that way.Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-2944464487085564632011-08-26T19:07:00.000-03:002011-08-26T19:07:43.663-03:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Under Construction</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">In one way, that's what I feel my life is at the moment...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Under Construction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Maybe it's more like Rennovation and not so much Construction. Afterall, I feel fairly well constructed at this point in my life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><u>Since June I've:</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">bought and moved into the new house and </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">started a new job</span> (in Brasil)<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">enjoyed a 5 weeks vacation with family stateside</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">went to JellyStone Park for the first time and felt like a kid</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">gained--American junkfood(and lost--moving and settling in the new house) at least 10 lbs (5kg)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">became a mother of a teenager</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">As I worked to unpack boxes and organize new cabinets, I craved the sense of order and routine. One month into the house and I am beginning to feel the routine take shape--and at times finding myself seeking chaos. At times, perhaps, creating a little chaos just for the feeling of it. I wonder why that is.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I have a world of opportunities ahead, sometimes more than I can wrap my mind around, and it leaves me in a stalemate unsure where to begin.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">This all may be because until recently I was too comfortable in what I considered to be my daily routine, too accepting. Accustomed to the get up, go to work, go to bed, get up, go to work, go to bed. I realize that this moment, right now as I write, is quite possibly the first time in nearly a month that I have had the chance to just be. And it feels good. It feels welcome. It leaves my head empty and my heart curious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New;">And it makes me smile to think of what path I will blaze next...</span>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-71942071636336910902011-06-18T19:55:00.000-03:002011-06-18T19:55:34.494-03:00<span style="font-size: x-large;">A chapter closes...</span><br />
I was given the honor of addressing the 8th grade class at their end of middle school celebration Friday, June 17. The following is what I shared:<br />
Good afternoon class of 2015, parents, EARJ middle school students and faculty<br />
<br />
<br />
20 years ago last Thursday, June 9, 1991, I graduated from high school. (Yes, I just revealed my age to an auditorium full of people) At the time, it was, maybe it still is, customary to choose a famous quote or saying that represents the graduating class. This chosen quote is then displayed on commencement programs, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. For my graduating class, the class officers selected the following quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. And according to custom, it was printed on the commencement program, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. 20 years later, the programs, invitations, and yearbook pages are either dust in the wind or covered in dust in a number of attics/storage spaces. I guess it is safe to say, more importantly, that this saying was instead imprinted in my memory. Ironic in some ways, for what lies WITHIN us really is what is most important. <br />
<br />
8th graders, future graduating class of 2015, soon-to-be freshmen, you are sitting in a seat that magnifies all that is behind you. You received a capsule letter this morning reminding you about how you felt at the beginning of this 8th grade year. Many of you were surprised when reminded of what your thinking used to be like. Some of you were surprised by how your opinions were altered over the course of this year. Some of you were just plain surprised. But what great things you have accomplished! Not only this school year, but all the school years until now. Inside the classrooms, on the athletic fields, as a member of your respective families, as you discovered what it means to be a friend.<br />
<br />
This seat you occupy also magnifies the vastness of what lies before you. You’ve registered for classes, you’ve elected class officers, you’ve attended one upper school class all in anticipation for what August has in store for you. Some of you will face these new adventures in a new school or a new city or a new country. All of the unanswered questions, all of the anxiety will soon enough be addressed. While you seek those answers, as you traverse the path before you, might I remind you to pay attention to what lies within you.<br />
<br />
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. What do you take with you from your EARJ Middle School experience? I think it is safe to assume that my colleagues would concur with what I wish for you to take, what I hope you keep in your imaginary pocket or bag of tricks, <br />
<br />
I hope you take your effective decision-making skills; you know how to face tough choices; you know how to state your opinion in a constructive fashion; you know how to construct a valid argument and remain open to understanding when the opinion is contrary to yours; you know how to make mistakes—with grace. I hope you continue to develop the habits of successful people: attention to detail, organization, the art of discourse, how to control impulses. I hope you take with you the gift—of inquiry. Ask questions, doubt facts, search for answers, trust your inner voice. <br />
<br />
You have arrived here today individually and collectively. You can be proud of what you have accomplished as a class. I know I am. I would like to leave you today with another quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to learn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child or a garden patch….to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!<br />
<br />
May each one of you find success. Congratulations class of 2015!Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-79856535875184630152011-05-30T18:21:00.000-03:002011-05-30T18:21:24.093-03:00Change and Challenge and Moving on and Looking back and Making Decisions<br />
<br />
Most of us are scared of change. It is a natural program mode of the human brain: Change on the horizon? Panic button! However, most change experienced leads us to challenge ourselves in ways we never imagined possible. Sometimes it means physically moving on. Sometimes it enables us to look back and reflect, process the actions taken and the lessons learned and make a spiritual change in our life. Mostly, change is frightening, in my humble opinion, because it means we have to make decisions.<br />
<em>I Feel Like a Grown-Up.</em> I like this phrase. I use this phrase when I feel the strength of independent, solid decision making. But this phrase also reminds me of how complicated life continues to be as we <em>grow up</em> and lead independent lives, and how often, even as adults, we long for the protection of our parents. <br />
The first few years living in Rio I didn't have a car. I used public transportation, walked or hitched rides with friends. The first months after buying my car, I often said, "I feel like such a grown-up." Independent, self-sufficient, self-reliant. There was victory in navigating the roads, the toll booths, the police blitz, and the car inspection in Portuguese. There was a sense of accomplishment in understanding the mechanic when the battery had to be replaced and the tires pumped up a little. It made me <em>feel like a grown-up</em>. <br />
I'm facing a major change in my life. There's a lot going on. And although I enjoy the sense of accomplishment over those things which I tackle on my own, there is a part of me that uses the phrase <em>I feel like a grown-up</em> because what I'm really craving is the safe, secure protection of being a child, of being taken care of, instead of caring for the situation on my own.<br />
Why is change so scary? Especially as an adult? Perhaps it is because if we make the "wrong" choice and move toward change in a direction that brings negative consequences we accept the ownership of the decision making process. There's no one to fall back on but ourselves--of course that's scary. I don't know anyone who LIKES to fail.<br />
But what if we look at change first through the lense of success and opportunity? How would that alter our perspective? Continuing on the same path, on the surface, appears to be easier than facing change. It's certainly easier to accept our life's routine as is. It's comfortable to continue in the direction we have been going. You know it's that famous saying, "It's ALWAYS been done that way." Nobody really knows if "that way" is the best. What happens when somebody else suddenly sends us in another direction? What happens if we are sent in that direction when we happen to feel the most empowered we've ever felt? Couldn't we begin to view change as an opportunity rather than a burden? Might we find ourselves actually thanking the change agent for the chance to make a shift?<br />
That is where I find myself now. Forced to make a change. Forced to change direction in my routine. A little bit nervous, but not scared. I feel invigorated. I know what I have to offer. I know what I know. I know there exists many things which I don't know and even more that I don't know I don't know. What a privilege to be able to learn more. What an opportunity to look outside of what has been and think: I can totally make a change!<br />
That must be where the element of looking back comes into play. If we don't take the time to reflect on what brought us to where we are, to who we have become, how are we supposed to navigate in which direction we are supposed to continue living? <br />
Wide open opportunity is scary. Limitless possibility is daunting. Who knows where to begin in making major, life-changing decisions? Who has the confidence to trust the inner voice? How many people get the chance to start again? <br />
The beauty of it all...I do!Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-24675850157789035912011-05-16T20:07:00.001-03:002011-05-16T20:07:53.721-03:00Salvador2009<object width="425" height="425" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"><param name="movie" value="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"/><param name="flashvars" value="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=1AasW7Jw5bsWdS&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true"/><param name="menu" value="false"/><param name="quality" value="best"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><embed width="425" height="425" align="middle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" name="wrapper" quality="best" menu="false" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="configXMLURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/config/config-share.xml&slideshowModuleURL=http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-module.swf&projectGUID=1AasW7Jw5bsWdS&swfName=slideshowFlashContent&showReplay=true" src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/slideshow/slideshow-ui.swf"></embed></object><p style="width:425px;margin-top:0;text-align:center;"><a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=1AasW7Jw5bsWJk&eid=115">Click here to view this photo book larger</a><img width="1" height="1" border="0" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=photobook&c2=blogger" /></p>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30798118.post-66202980454367545932011-05-16T20:04:00.001-03:002011-05-16T20:04:45.060-03:00Photo Book<object width="425" height="425" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000"><param name="movie" value="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshowphotobook/slideshow_pb.swf"/><param name="flashvars" value="xmlURL=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fpsdata%3FprojectGUID%3D1AasW7Jw5bsWc0%26uid%3D001070982715%26size%3D0%26ts%3D1305587073000%26height%3D425%26width%3D425&size=0&ob=0&fc=0&ss=0&sb=0&ft=0"/><param name="menu" value="false"/><param name="quality" value="best"/><param name="wmode" value="transparent"/><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/><embed width="425" height="425" align="middle" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" name="wrapper" quality="best" menu="false" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" flashvars="xmlURL=http%3A%2F%2Fws.shutterfly.com%2Fpsdata%3FprojectGUID%3D1AasW7Jw5bsWc0%26uid%3D001070982715%26size%3D0%26ts%3D1305587073000%26height%3D425%26width%3D425&size=0&ob=0&fc=0&ss=0&sb=0&ft=0" src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/flashapps/flashslideshowphotobook/slideshow_pb.swf"></embed></object><p style="width:425px;margin-top:0;text-align:center;"><a href="http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=1AasW7Jw5bsWJG&eid=115">Click here to view this photo book larger</a><img width="1" height="1" border="0" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=photobook&c2=blogger" /></p>Sara Wichthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13082542423188042726noreply@blogger.com0