Ryan's Journey

A Letter to Seniors

2011-05-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

Now is a great time of change. It is a whirlwind of emotions with so much emphasis put on both spectra of the past and the future, with little regard placed on right now, today.

Soon you will leave the doors of Cherry Creek for good. You will move on to another time, to another experience, to another opportunity. Hopefully, you will take with you lessons that you have gained from inside the classroom, as well as from the simple notion of growing up over the years.

Some of the things that I wish I would have known, looking back, I would like to share. Take it as you will. I just know that I would have appreciated the same at your age…

Here you sit, at the precipice of something great. You have endless opportunity at your fingertips. You have the ability to make decisions and act upon those to better shape who you are directly, and even have a chance at impacting the entire world. You must always do yourself justice. Never settle for anything beyond your own scope of optimism. Understand that the moment is always now, and reach for everything that you desire.

Find something that you love. Seek out your passions and create dreams upon them. Listen to those dreams in order to develop meaningful goals to aim for. Stay powerful and confident in your mind, and trust me, these things will be attained.

It is so simple, really. If you desire something above everything else, you will find it in your heart to achieve.

Your mind is the most important and true thing that you have in this world. Allow your mind to be free of negativity and open to all that this world may have in store for you and you will guarantee great happiness and success each and every moment of every day.

Be optimistic about your future and be content with your past; however, do not live for either. There is only this moment, here—right now—that you can be sure of. Make it everything that you can by exuding confidence, grace, kindness, responsibility, and nurture it all into a neat bouquet to share with those around you.

How you perceive the world will be exactly how it is. The world only exists for the way that you see it, taste it, touch it, and feel it. Create a desire for all that you perceive to be good and beneficial to your overall growth as a human being.

Most of all, be proud of all that you’ve accomplished and be proud of who you are. Be excited to continue down winding and unpaved trails, picking up lessons and knowledge along the way. There are only two things that are certain in this world: 1) you will never stop learning, and 2) the only guarantee in life is now.

So, hold your head up high. Go into the world with light and love, and give all of yourself into finding and becoming all of yourself.

Silence For Swimming

2010-10-28T15:09:00.000-07:00
Something suddenly just hit me. I have nothing swirling in my brain that ISN'T directly related to swimming... Thus, being the cause of my negligence.

Your purpose and meaning for life can swing and sway, and right now the wind is blowing fairly strong in one, specific direction.

I hope it doesn't cause too much of a storm. Or maybe I do.

See what I mean?
www.ryanistryin.blogspot.com

Giving Them the Credit

2010-09-13T17:04:00.000-07:00
Teaching has never been a job for me.

When speaking of my "work" I always refer to it as "school", primarily because it doesn't truly feel like work. It feels like something more special. Even the word "career" isn't close. It could better be described as "a moral duty by my own consciousness and the Universe." Nah, that's not it either....

With that said, the hardest part of this "job" has always been learning about all of the external fireworks that moonlight as children's lives outside of the school walls. I can take the grading of papers. I can take the 5 lectures per day on the same biologically fascinating concept. I can take the helicopter parent calls. I can take the surprise administration observations.

I cannot take the truth that kids are not immune from the real world.

Currently, I have a myriad of real-life issues that should never even brush the shoulder of a child ranging from teen parenthood, to depression, to suicide, to disability, to harassment, and others (I shudder to think) that I'm not even aware of.

If only we could educate children about these issues without them actually having to have the experience of them. So many of our children are faced with problems that even the most stable of adults couldn't rope a lasso around. And they are supposed to also gain an education and be motivated on a daily basis for such things?

Kids aren't given enough credit for their poise, most of which who never realize the word for it.

My Conscious Memory

2010-08-31T19:41:00.001-07:00
Often, I find myself trying to remember the slightest details as time does its ticking. I focus on sounds and colors and smells and feelings. I am trying, ever so desperately, to consciously create a memory.

For the most part, this effort is highly successful and I can be proud of that new moment that is now, forever, embedded deep within my cerebrum.

Today, was definitely one of those days.

I am starting to think that the process of conscious memory should happen more often in my life. The more things that I actively try to create as a memorable experience, the more of those memorable experiences I will have. Right?

Thirty & Thirsty.

2010-08-21T15:54:00.000-07:00
For those of you that know me, it is no surprise that I spent the initial hours of my birthday rubbing tired 4AM eyes and hopping into an icy abyss of chlorine. Now, in my opinion, THAT is a celebration of life!

Stroke after stroke, breath after breath, I pondered my very existence the only way appropriate for such an early morning workout. I began asking myself, "What have I done in 30 years?" As the strokes became easier and the breath less labored, my question transitioned ever so slightly into, "What haven't I done in 30 years?"

This question proved to be the better of the two. I then could direct my attention to those goals and dreams that have been resting idle as well as those ever-scary "shoulda, woulda, couldas." The difference between now and every time prior: those thoughts felt freeing, empowering even.

I am a 30 year old woman with a lot of experience tucked tightly into my overflowing pockets. I have lived a life that few have journeyed and I have traveled beyond my own imagination over and over again. I am sparked by the prospects that the future may hold, for better or worse. For one of the greatest lessons that these 30 years have given me is that it ALL is worth it. I am 30 and thirsty!

T-Shirts!

2010-08-16T11:07:00.001-07:00

Just a quick note:

For those of you who attended the June fund raiser held in my honor by two amazing young women, Sophie and Jordan, you may remember the awesome t-shirts they had made. For those of you who couldn't attend, take my word for it.

At their request, I would like to announce that
if you would still like to purchase a t-shirt there are some leftover. I'm not sure about sizes or quantities, but if interested please shoot over an email to:

inspiredshirts@gmail.com

Growing Up Takes Time

2010-08-08T14:41:00.000-07:00
Growing up is something that happens to everyone, if they are lucky enough. It comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. It becomes a drastically different concept the closer you are to reaching it. It is fantastically uncharted territory that everyone dreams about on some level. It is scary.

If we were to pause and take a flashback into a time where I was too young to drive, too young to have a mortgage, and too young to be disappointed we would see the half-my-current-age me longing for nothing more than to ace my dreaded biology final and buy that awesome shirt at the mall.

That same Ryan would also be dreaming of her future like any other teenager would. It is so remarkable how those ideas tend to change through time by the hands of your experiences alone.

Beyond myself, I would gaze into the future of my friends. I would wonder about their existences and mine down the road. Would we still be in each others' lives? Would we all be happy?

Over the past two weekends I have spent some time gazing into the current futures of my friends. I have been to the baby shower of a beloved friend and the engagement party of another; both of who were bound to me with something stronger than blood that night over 13 years ago that changed everything.

To watch these friends grow and change and add to their lives in the form of companions, family, friends, and now babies I couldn't help but feel a beaming from my heart. These strong and deserving friends of mine are growing up. They are beginning new journeys that will take them very far for a very long time. I am so proud to even witness it.

As for me? I am still searching. I am sort of realizing that part of my path is to remain a searcher. For some reason I need that unbalanced side to keep everything in place. I am growing up, just not the way that I had particularly fantasized about so long ago. However, this life that sits before me is, undoubtedly, a comforting mix of chaos and drawing outside of the lines.

I appreciate it everyday, so much that I have wholeheartedly stopped fantasizing about the future.

The Midst of Accomplishment

2010-07-29T21:09:00.000-07:00
Today, an essay that I wrote back in December was finally published! It is a "This I Believe" essay. Time seems to fade away ever so slightly in the midst of accomplishment.

I wrote this piece as one of my "projects" and had nearly forgotten about its presence until I received an email about it this morning. It was fun to reread and reflect on the specifics of that time period. Although I'd never like to go back to that determined point, it is ever so necessary that it existed in the first place.

My Future, Backwards.

2010-07-28T11:01:00.000-07:00
Something that has been circling in my mind as of late is the notion of one's experiences through time. There are journeys and travels. There always is a first for everything, as well as a last. There are memories of things that have never been. There are feelings of familiarity and nostalgia. There is a time for it all.

Lately, my tiny spotlight has been positioned upon those experiences that are presently occurring, reminding you of a past in which felt completely different.

For example, I have a fond memory of me getting lost on a non-specific New Year's Day through the winding roads of the mountains. Panic had set in, not because of my unknown surroundings, but rather because my gas gauge was shining it's little orange light indicating the necessity of a gas station. There was none in sight. Finally, I convinced myself to turn around the the way I had come; for there was a gas station in this small town I passed nearly 20 minutes ago. The station was closed, but luckily the owner of it was bored and saw me pull in. He turned on the pumps just for me. Needless to say, that small town was Kittredge... the town that I currently call home. That winded highway... the road that my property looks out to, a road I journey nearly everyday and could, most likely, do so without eyesight. The gas station... one of only a few places in town to buy essentials and chat up the weather.

I think of this story at times when I come across a new adventure or highway, wondering if it will, somehow, in the future be part of my life. This backwards sort of logic has been sort of fun when fantasizing about my future and future instances.

Looking at life backwards to look toward the future is something that makes sense to me, for whatever reason, and it's comfortable. I suggest a sampling of your own. I guess it's just another perspective to dive into, to see all angles of light that projects onto you.

On Being Healed

2010-07-25T08:34:00.000-07:00
Healing is a concept not only reserved for the body, but for the mind as well. This concept refers to a state in which either your body or brain are slowly returning to its natural state of normal.

My healing has been an ongoing process for over a year now. Whether in brain or body, my healing has consumed me. It has been so difficult pretending to live a normal life while feeling like there is healing yet to happen.

Today, however, I am exclaiming to the echoes in the mountains, the stars in the sky, and the fish in the sea that I am HEALED!

It has been so long since I have had this sort of confidence. I am incredibly empowered and am ready to put my health issues behind me. And even more so, I am not frightened that new issues lie around every sneaky corner.

With all of that said, I am off to regain my life back. Perhaps a walk around the lake will help jump-start this new existence...

The Path That Leads You

2010-07-23T14:58:00.000-07:00
I have always been a firm believer in fate. And in my head, that fate looks like paths outlined in finely grained dirt the color of adobe brick, surrounded by tall reeds of glowing grasses dancing in an imaginary breeze.

Throughout my life thus far, I have faced many forks in the road, many a windstorm erasing the dirt path underneath me, and many sun-shiny paths awaiting my arrival. I never fret about the path to take, for I feel like it is decided already and will be the right choice no matter what.

So long as you are willing to pay attention on the steps that you make as you walk down that path... left foot, right foot... you are reflecting upon the experience, which is the whole purpose of it all anyway.

The path is the most important part of life. It's the journey that takes you there. The "there" doesn't really matter in the end. It is the "left foot, right foot" thing that makes all the difference.

Magic Happens Every Day...

2010-07-19T21:36:00.000-07:00
...if you are brave enough to see it.

Open your eyes to the wonders of the world. Explore beyond your mind. Explore into your mind. There are endless possibilities for happiness, growth, strength, and opportunity provided that you are keen to understand both sides of the story.

Be brave, be open, be you.

A Brave New Blog

2010-07-18T20:00:00.000-07:00
My mind has been consumed lately with the fantasy of swimming. Of becoming exactly what I never knew I could be. Those thoughts are with me as my eyes first establish their morning squint. Those thoughts are with me as I parade around my laundry basket. Those thoughts are with me while riding my bike in fabulous circles through the park. Those thoughts also find their way to my dreams.

I have to follow it. I have to go for it and try something that I never felt possible. And because of it all, I had to find a way to share it all.

Please visit my new training blog at:
Ryan Is Tryin'

The Path Through Communication

2010-07-16T21:49:00.000-07:00
Communication is one of our most powerful tools. It sets humans apart from most other organisms in the way we verbalize, cue, and create languages suited for describing emotion.

I have always been a strong advocate for utilizing communication within all relationships; however, I had (in my past) neglected to note the power that hid within reaching out and communicating with people that are outside of your personal comfort.

Just today I have I been reminded of that power having sought out an old coaching acquaintance for some potential personal and professional help. The request was nabbed with open arms and I am so excited to be receiving assistance in such a gracious manner. (**more to come on this later!)

Nevertheless, this experience reminds me of the very first time I reached out to communicate with a total stranger. I blindly contacted the director of an organization that I felt passionate about. That email turned into an afternoon of tea, which turned into being introduced to her children and husband, which soon became a sort of kinship that I have never knew I was missing before.

These instances of communication, I feel, are a way of possessing my own destiny while ensuring that the path I've chosen is in the right direction at the right time. It feels really good to take a leap to communicate with someone new and have it directly create a path that you know has actually been there, hidden by layers of earth and green, all along.

Lessons In Failing

2010-07-15T21:17:00.000-07:00

Out of everything that I am sure of, I know that the lessons that we learn and take with us are the things that create LIFE. Everything else is just extra STUFF that keeps us either entertained or distracted.
With that said, I have learned a very valuable lesson that (I believe) was actually crucial in being able to continue on living with a smile, clinking my lucky penny alongside my heart-shaped tin of hope, while skipping and whistling the theme song to "It's A Wonderful Life."
This lesson, I now realize, could only be achieved through a blast of great darkness. Over a year ago, being placed on indefinite bed rest and forced with the thought of not being able to heal, I felt hopeless... motionless... guideless..........................scared.
For the first time in my life, even through previous tumbles and falls, my body did not have the power or will, or both, to heal itself. No matter the medication. No matter the meditation. My body had failed in a big way. The infection had won and without the blessing of modern medical conveniences, my body would have surrendered entirely to a solider with one simple name: Bacteria.
As much as I tried not to focus on the fact that my body had failed in such a manner, it was extremely distressing. If my body were to give up so easily this time around, how many more chances did I have left? The entire experience was shuddering.
Shoved strategically to the darkest lobes of my brain, those thoughts appeared to fade once the surgeries had done the jobs that my body couldn't and I began to regain the life I had once known.
Fast-forward seven months and there you have another moment of failure. If I were my body's biology teacher, they'd be out of intramurals for sure, meeting at my round table every lunch period just to raise it's grade. This failure put my mind exactly back to the place I was before. Scared and untrusting of its power and will to endure any sort of natural healing.
However, after giving my body those tools it needed: nourishment, water, sleep, vitamins, exercise, love, respect, confidence... it finally responded.
This time, my body told me that it would not let me down. It was not going to fail me again. My body, with all of the power and teamwork of healthy cells, proved to me that it's not over. That the remarkable human body doesn't have to cease to amaze me, or anyone else for that matter. It will be there, doing its job, if you let it... and trust it.
Now that I have that impression of the capacity and capabilities that my body HAD in store for me, I can only wonder and dream about the possibilities that STILL lie ahead.

Take Your Marks

2010-07-14T19:35:00.000-07:00
If you tell yourself something enough, those words become feelings and those feelings then, in turn, slowly become truth.

This cycle can be quite useful when telling yourself something goal-oriented or wise, and conversely quite detrimental when based upon pessimism and defeat. I never quite realized this applied to me because, ironically enough, I had told myself the same phrase so many times that it became a piece of me: like that scarf you always wrap your neck with or the wristwatch that gave you a matching tan.

This phrase, my phrase crept up on me shortly after becoming paralyzed. I never noticed it outwardly, but the feelings were immediate.

The phrase? You ask? "I could have been a good swimmer. I could have really gone somewhere, if I would have taken that opportunity to realize it while I still had the chance."

Even while I attempted to compete again nearly a decade ago, those words swam right along with me. Perhaps those words were all I had between me and actual competitive and mental victory.

It wasn't until a few weeks ago-- not to mention two bouts of bed rest and many notions of health shock-- that I realized something within me, that I created, was acting as a barrier. A barrier that had been present almost longer than not.

As I pushed my arms against the staircase descending into the water, I plunged my entire body and soul until I was completely submerged. At that point, it was just me and the water. Sounds coming from that conch shell of my mind followed the bubbles from my mouth. I was, in that exact moment, alone in the world with nothing but myself.

And what did I tell myself? That I COULD have been something. That I COULD have made it. That I COULD have accomplished it all.

For the first time ever, I told myself to be quiet.

I returned my focus to the bubbles and the conch shell. It was then, and only then, did I realize that it is NEVER TOO LATE...

I CAN be something. I CAN make it. I CAN accomplish it all.

And so here I sit, ready to compete again. I am ready to prove to myself and no one else that I can do the very thing that I have created previous barriers against. It may only be swimming, but to me it is a very crucial start in the right direction.

This new strength of potential achievement leaves me with, not only the contentment of a new project, but also with the excitement of (literally) uncharted waters. And with that, I pull harder than I ever have before. I push myself to want to stop. I set short-term goals for an upcoming meet in CA. I make this happen.

A Promise

2010-07-13T21:31:00.000-07:00
In sharing the afternoon with a friend, I realized something VERY important pouring out of my mouth...

I was reminiscing about my time spent in India and the self-appointed job of daily blogging, when I suddenly realized how crucial that writing was to me at that time. I also realized that nothing within me has changed so to make that event any less important. Having a moment at the end of my every day to reflect on that particular day's worth is such a fantastic way to stay connected with your mind, body, and the rest of the Universe.

With that said, I can't promise to write everyday... but what I can promise to myself is a greater consciousness of reflection upon the experiences that combine to make up a single day in the life.

Time For A New Motto

2010-06-08T14:24:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, you may have heard my latest motto: "without health you have nothing." You may have even agreed with me. For I am the ultimate first-hand posterchild for such a phrase. Once my health begins to deteriorate (only months after regaining it), I am (once again) enlisted into an army of dispair, waiting patiently for its return while surrendering to the unease of time in a bed-bound state.
BUT this is a new time. It is always a new time. Moments pass by and can never be relived or even imagined to the same extent. My recent setback brought me straight back to moments of my sickness last year, ones never to be compared. I spent awhile feeling as though I was retracing those torrid steps, one pace at a time, until I realized that it was only me who had made the claim of sameness.
This experience, just like every one before, is new. And in the struggle to not compare my past health with my current health, I have come to realize something more important than the experience itself: my life is so much more than the pieces that make up my day.
I am wrong; without health I still have so much.
I have friends and smiles and curiosity and juicy apples and daydreams and sunshine and hugs and late-night advice and baby giggles and hummingbirds and so much more that I have let go to the wayside by giving discontent its given name.
But no more. My health is important, that is the truth; however, my life is far more complex and enduring and cannot all be stopped because of this one important aspect.
My life will not be over as long as I am around to live it.

DETOUR

2010-05-21T12:58:00.001-07:00
A few weeks ago, as I was traveling home I stumbled upon some unusual traffic heading up the mountain. Traffic never seems to worry me; typically it gives me some well-sought out reflection and replenish time.

The road was a steep grade up through the foothills, making it practically impossible to see any clarity in the horizon. The cars came to a stop. In the distance, a LED sign securing all of the commuters' fates: "BOULDER IN ROAD. ROAD CLOSED. DETOUR."

Enduring the delay, and not realizing at the time the profound metaphor that was created therein, I joyfully turned up the radio and took the longer way home.

This experience serves as a particularly important lesson to me at this time. Although there may be a boulder in your path preventing you from traveling the method you originally chose, the slowed traffic will find a way to its destination one way or another.

Perhaps in this metaphor my precise destination is unknown; however I will endure this DETOUR with the radio up and a smile of my lips.

The Importance of Education

2010-05-09T10:19:00.000-07:00

Education is a lifelong process; in fact, it is the only process that you can begin with your birth and carry with you for the rest of your life. Therefore, it is crucial to find meaning and recognition in those aspects of your life that are there to teach you. Education does not only have to be found in a classroom, surrounded by chalk dust and sharpened pencils. Education can, and should be, everywhere.

Traditional education through academia is imperative in the journey of one’s life. There you will be introduced to the world of wonder: having virtually every subject, resource, and material at your fingertips. School is a foundation of truth and curiosity, provided that you let it be so.

In addition to traditional education, learning should not arrest there. A doorway into a world that exists for one’s own fostering and progression, school is just the beginning.

"I was bold in the pursuit of knowledge, never fearing to follow truth and reason to whatever results they led, and bearding every authority which stood in their way."

-- Thomas Jefferson

The wealth of education is upon you, it is within each one of us wrestling to get out and discover the world. Knowledge is the key to a happy and successful existence, with a bright splash of perspective and motivation, your educational pursuit can take you anywhere.

My Inspiration

2010-04-17T16:38:00.000-07:00
in·spi·ra·tion
Pronunciation: \ˌin(t)-spə-ˈrā-shən, -(ˌ)spi-\
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 a : a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive and communicate sacred revelation b : the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions c : the act of influencing or suggesting opinions

This term flows around my head, taking turns spinning and resting between my auditory canals and cerebrum. I am not sure why this appears to be the word of choice when complimenting me; however, I am NOT complaining... just trying to understand.

From what I can tell, perhaps people deem me inspirational because I have opened my eyes to the inspiration around me. I try to take that same "power of intellect and emotions" and hold it tight. I try to emulate it. I try it on for size. I hold a mirror to it to project your beautiful inspiration back at you.

And for this, I am certain, is the reason why I hear about me being such an inspiration. Where in fact, I have only become more aware of addressing it and using it from the world around me than most.

It isn't me... it is all of you who are an inspiration to me, and this is what keeps that big ball of earth and ozone in motion.

Taking What I Know

2010-02-23T17:58:00.001-08:00
Lately, the Universe is trying to tell me to become a motivational speaker, or at least a motivator of learned experience, in some regard. I am trying to listen to this and figure out where to go next. With a class speech upcoming on Thursday, I have prepared a list of my own personal wisdoms to share in the same format in which this course was designed. So, I figure I will start by sharing them with my blog world:
LESSONS AND INSPIRATION by Ryan McLean
· You are responsible for creating your own reality. That includes both your prides and your limitations.
The way that you live your life is dependent upon how you see the world. After all, the world only exists for you through the way that you see, hear, taste, touch, and smell it. Your perspective is the key to finding true happiness within yourself and the world that you interact in. If you are unable to find happiness naturally, perhaps is just a case of altering the way that you perceive what is directly in front of you.
· Nobody knows how you’d react until it happens to you.
There is something to be said about experience. Without it, your reaction to situations would be far too raw and intolerable. You can never prepare yourself fully for any experience, and nor should you. The world opens up to each of us in various ways and there is no telling the way that it will be handled by each individual until sitting boldly in front of us. Trust in yourself to handle every situation with grace and truth.
· Joy and pain aren’t opposites; they are compliments.
For those who have experienced some of the lowest and darkest moments that they could imagine, have a special glimpse into a real sort of joy that couldn’t possibly be imagined any other way. It is only possible to recognize true happiness when both the face of fear and pain have been met, head-on. Take those instances of pain and use them as a stepping stone into something far more beautiful and permanent.
· The lessons you need most are all around you waiting for you to get the hint.
Those times in which you need guidance most is the time that you should sit back and listen to the wind, enjoy the way the trees dance, and wait for the universe to provide those things you have been seeking. Setting forth to find your own life’s lessons can be valuable and rewarding; however, many times it is far better to sit back, relax, and breathe into the day. Allowing yourself to be open to opportunities that may glance your way, is crucial when attempting to realize your true potential, because they may be otherwise missed if actively searching for something that may not be right.
· Force yourself to get to know you. An internal dialogue is absolutely normal and deserves to be listened to.
It goes far beyond talking to yourself. Your internal dialogue manages to keep you in check with the real you and can be far more valuable than one might think. This dialogue becomes more present when you unknowingly deviate from your true self. It is also a way for you to reflect upon the actions that you are currently making, paying close attention to the value that they have on your ultimate character.
· Challenging yourself is where you learn MOST about yourself.
Those times in which you feel most vulnerable and uncomfortable is where you can learn to let go of those things that you’ve placed for all to see and be the most true. When you set yourself up with a challenge, you are going forward towards a goal that you yourself has deemed difficult, yet rewarding. The process in which this challenge is made is what truly matters, along with the manner in which you poise yourself and react throughout its entirety. Life is one giant lesson in challenges and rising above your own self to be willing to dive into them.
· Believe in the present, accept the past, and hope for the future.
For all intents, the only thing that you have is right now. The past can only be remembered and the future one can only dream. What matters most is the moment of the present. Right now you are capable of rewarding adventures, mind-tingling thoughts, and the deepest perceptions of the surrounding world. Take it all in now; for it’s all you can be sure of.

Three Cups of Me

2010-02-11T18:56:00.000-08:00

You know that question where you are supposed to decide on one person that you'd like meet, no matter the era or locale? Until just recently, I have never found a soul to completely fulfill that specified question.
After becoming mesmerized throughout the pages of "Three Cups of Tea," I discovered the work of Greg Mortenson and became enamored. He is a man who understands the value of education and the global impact that it can have when the specific efforts are applied. What's more, is that he took that understanding and created a tangible and proactive organization that has blossomed over the past decade or so.
So, not only did I come to find my answer to that question; but the reality of that scenario actually occurred before I really had a chance to imagine how it would even play out.
Yesterday I, with the persistence of my new, yet dear friend Christiane, found myself at an event where tea was the scaffolding for creating bonds and inspiring communities. Rubbing my eyes several times in disbelief, I sat among the graceful and the powerful and the charitable. Greg Mortenson flowed through the room, so light on his feet-- astonishing for someone of his grand stature. Not missing a smile, he moved around the room shaking hands and making acquaintances. As he neared my table, my heart began to shove the blood, rather forcefully, through my extremities and up to my head. It was trying so desperately to give me a better ability for intelligence.
Finally, he made it. A good friend of mine, Dave, sat next to me as my confidant for the day. He was the first approached by Mr. Mortenson. They shook and exchanged. It was now my turn...
"Hello," he said with giant hand outstretched.
"Hi, you already signed my book." Was the only thing that came out.
"Oh. And what is your name?"
"Ryan."
"Pleased to meet you, Ryan." And with apparently nothing more to say, made so by my indifferent-seeming answers, he left.
Seriously? Was that all I had to say? What about all of the questions that I have pondered for months on end about the inter-workings of his organization and the future of expansion into other territories and the concept of global education and all of the billions of other things that have kept me awake at night bouncing from synapse to synapse? What went wrong? Why couldn't I have come up with something, anything to say?
But that is when I realized, it wasn't to be that way. For that instant, he was sensationalized. He was a rockstar and I was a groupie. There was no room for a meeting of the minds in this concert hall. I was in no place to conjure up the greatest part of this man, and nor would I ever. And that is okay. I don't need to express to him neither love nor gratitude. I don't need to beg him questions.
What I need is to continue to learn and grow from those people around me, however close or far. I will take in little parts from each to create my own whole. I have no need to become someone that already exists, for that is far too overplayed. I will, though, take Greg Morteson's wisdoms and graces and courages and impulses to carry my own self to wherever it is that this soul might travel next.

It's Been 13 Years...

2010-02-02T19:25:00.000-08:00
Since I was a kid.
Since my world seemed simple.
Since I jumped down stairs.
Since I believed that everything was only one way.
Since I used a kickboard.
Since things felt too hard to try.
Since I stubbed my toe.
Since I have been afraid of needles.
Since I could remain anonymous.
Since elevators weren't on my radar.
Since I wondered about my purpose.
Since life happened only on TV.
Since I was too young to understand.
Since history was something read, not created.
Since I questioned my character.
Since I did a cartwheel.
Since I lost in arm-wrestling.
Since the world revolved around me.
Since I needed others to make me feel good.
Since magic was only an illusion.
Since I saw obstacles as a bad thing.
Since I sat in darkness.
Since I found myself.

The World As I See It

2010-02-01T19:44:00.000-08:00
You have senses for the sole purpose of giving your mind and spirit an awareness of everything else that surrounds it. Senses to taste, touch, hear, see, and smell anything to heighten the expression of the world. All of this I find fascinating.

Ever since my project ended, I have been left with two distinct imprints. The first is the outline of space in which I feel like I am actually missing out on those everyday experiences that I, sometimes, forced myself into. The other, a much more impressionable imprint--if you will-- being that of the lingering feeling of self-discovery.

I knew that going into this project that I was in need of finding my own deeper self. Someone that lurked behind the blue in my eyes. This person had yet to surface, although a part of me all along. Everyone has this self within them too. Its willingness to show itself, however, is quite different among you and me. My deeper self had been waiting for quite some time to appear and alter my consciousness for better or for worse forever.

This self has emerged right through the blue and into the world that exists only in senses. It is calling for me to experience the world in a new light. A light that sees much more than colors and creates far more than photosynthetic energy.

My self-awareness and global reflection is astonishing to me. I am far more capable than I have ever been. The clarity beyond the blue combined with the light that creates no shadows is here for all of us to experience-- to taste, to touch, to hear, to see, and to smell.

I urge you to go. Find your deeper self; the one that is patient to get out and show you true living from the inside out.

Moving Backwards Into Tomorrow?

2010-01-18T14:08:00.000-08:00

It'll be one day shy of ten months since I have set foot in my classroom. It has been that long since I have scratched out lesson plans 20 minutes before acting them out, gabbed with kids about their teenage woes over lunch, jammed the copy machine, and woke up before 5AM.
It feels like a different world, another time, yet I will be back in full-swing early tomorrow morning. One of my most prominent fears of this whole thing is that all of my self-reflection and awareness of life that I have explored over the past months will be lost. I will step foot into my old life, moving backwards, losing all of my forward momentum. Is that possible? Can you really MOVE in any direction other than forward, facing the future with your present? I hope not.
I have come too far to go back to where I was. I am in such a precious place in between my cerebrum and this vast planet: somewhere, I reside in the combination of both. I enjoy what I have discovered about myself and how I fit in this world. I am far more wise about my actions and far more enlightened about my thoughts.
We will only wait and see what happens to me as I join back into living in the "real world". One can only tell. I am going to hold onto my strength of self and grip it with white knuckles, waving it around for all to see. I am going to keep small pieces of that same strength in my pocket, hoping to not confuse it with grocery lists, tardy notes, and fortune cookie wisdom.

Turning-Points & Stepping Stones

2010-01-08T13:19:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you meet someone that you know, right away, will impact you forever. This is a rare, yet cherished moment of humanity.
Going into my meeting with the director for Pennies for Peace, I just knew that this would be one of those circumstances. I have researched and understand the mission behind this organization and I was sure that this was both the turning-point and stepping stone that I've been searching for all along.
Our meeting was far more magical than I could have ever pretended it to be in my head. This woman is courageous and strong-willed. She is compassionate and intuitive. However, the most remarkable part was that we mirrored each other so well. I can't fully describe our meeting, nor do I feel the need to. Just trust me.
Now, I look upon this experience with such glory. It all started out with a simple email during my own personal journey (Day 18). My desires to become a better global citizen and more true to myself led me to Pennies for Peace. But today I feel like my introduction to all of this now means so much more...

An Experience Revisited: Phoenix Security

2010-01-04T13:42:00.000-08:00
I received a letter in the mail from Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport today. This letter acknowledgeed my complaint (from Day 1) and asked for me to contact them to review further information.

Having little experience on matters of complaints, I dialed the number at the bottom of the signature. The soft voice on the other end answered bluntly only by name. I believe I began with something like this: "Uhh, my name is Ryan McLean and I am returning a call from you about a... complaint? I'm not sure if it is a considered a complaint..." The TSA Customer Support agent, simply replied with a, "Yes, it is a complaint, and that it should be."

She asked me to recount the day. I did so similarly to how I would to a friend, not even leaving out the part where I told the security supervisor that if he wanted documentation he could look at the scar on my butt. I didn't mean that statement as disrespectful. In the heat of my moment of panic, I would have gladly showed that only documentation that I had on my person!

The TSA agent was kind and concerned for my care in Phoenix. In her letter she stated that, "we need to be humane and responsive to the various medical needs of the traveling public..." She explained to me the need for this letter to be directed to the management of security, which she would do so personally. She also expressed gratitude towards me for even writing a letter and how she hoped that it would become a learning tool for future security agent training sessions. It was encouraging to hear that my words were acknowledged and that those words may even make a difference for future passengers. I suppose that is why people complain in the first place?

After recounting that day at the airport, the agent simply asked me what I would hope to see from this. I explained to her how I am not someone to disobey rules, especially those in place for my own and everyone else's safety; however, it was the act of complete disregard that was felt that day in the rows of shoeless passengers lined like cattle herds. I spoke to her frankly and with great passion. These security personnel need to be educated on disabilities. They need to be able to understand basic information regarding different disabilities, as well as how to approach issues that may be different from the rules written. The problem from the very beginning, that day, was that no one took into account that it wasn't my choice to live life like this, and there was nothing that they could say or restrict from me to change that. Perhaps not only airport security officials need a training session on this...

What Seems To Be Over...

2010-01-01T20:35:00.000-08:00

...has only just begun.
PROJECT ME has officially ended based on the instructions that I had placed upon myself. It was a very intense few weeks filled with stressful moments of picking tasks, as well as equally stressful moments of carrying out those tasks. But it has all been so worth it. Every last second of it.
I have learned so much from these experiences, ranging from understanding how my physical endurance relates to my mental endurance, all the way to realizing the potential impact of standing up and speaking for something that is important to me.
From all of this, I am changed. Knowing that it is over leaves me with a bit of relief for the sense of stress that can be felt when choosing an experience. However, even more so is the feeling of anxiety that is left in this now vacant space in my being. I am so afraid that I will lose the openness and mindfulness that I have developed through these days. I have spent so much time tuning into my soul and broadcasting as far through the world that it would reach, that I now know what it all feels like and what it all means to me.
One thing that I didn't realize at first, or even at twenty-first, is that the process of this project seemed to have a span of impact. My thoughts and feelings suddenly weren't the only ones that were being affected. I am proud, yet almost speechless, to say that some of what I have written and expressed from all of this has translated to others. It has been a big, fat blob awarded the power of being molded to anything that may fit the reader at that specific time. Taken what could be from each day, the reader could hold close any part that resonated and leave the rest there for someone else to ponder. This whole thing has been remarkable.
I cannot go back to the way things have played out for me in the past. I must be strong enough and courageous enough to keep the drive for bettering myself and the world, even though the monotony and comfort of an old self can be quite strong too. I will continue to remain within myself but also surrounded from all sides. Focusing on these things will always bring me great wisdom, I am certain.
If ever I feel like I am being sucked backwards into a time where motions have no meaning, I will look to those times where I forced myself into something new everyday. I will recreate some of that magic through even more new experiences, because I know so many more exist. .
So where does this leave me? The answer is: It doesn't.

Day 28

2009-12-31T11:54:00.000-08:00
Celebrating the New Year is a time for reflection and looking ahead. It is a time for beginning anew and forgetting the past. Yet I have never really been one to celebrate through sequence and stilettos nor prime rib and lobster.

For my final task, I decided to take a solo trip to Santa Fe. I have never been and had planned on leaving since last March when struck by illness. So today seemed like a perfect time for it all... leaving Colorado in 2009 and returning in 2010!

The true experience began early this afternoon when I was headed over to my mom's to say, "So long" and be on my way down the highway. To my surprise, both my mom and sister (and 6 month old niece) decided that they'd be both my travel companions as well as my New Year's dates.

Typically, I am very comfortable jumping in my car and driving. I may drive to Aurora, I may drive to Portland. I even have aspirations to drive to South America someday. I suppose you could say that road trips are sort of comforting to me, so having unexpected passengers is, no doubt, the most appropriate way to end my project of new experiences.

Throughout the 6-1/2 turned 8 hour trek, I single-handedly taught my sister how to correctly read a map, act as Western Colorado tour guide for my mom, and simultaneously become a "wild thing" that even Max would be afraid of.

It is now a little before the infamous ball-drop, and a great time for me to do my own reflecting and forward-looking. I am fairly confident that all of these daily tasks I have been carrying out have only been bringing me closer to actualizing a very prosperous New Year.

Love and goodwill to ALL...

Day 27

2009-12-30T22:05:00.001-08:00
Today I set out with a specific goal in mind: to compliment every stranger that crossed my path. Sounds fairly simple, right? Everyone likes compliments, right?!

There are two things that made this scenario less than desirable. 1) People don't like to talk to people they don't know, and 2) Often times compliments are perceived as something sinister with alternate personal motives. An uneasy combination of these two factors, made it extremely difficult to accomplish such a simple task.

I realized fairly quickly, after having a rushed encounter with the checkout clerk at the grocery store, that if I was going to make this work, I would have to establish some sort of presence with the stranger first. For some reason, without such a presence the compliment couldn't occur. I couldn't get it out of my mouth into the world and the timing was off somewhere dreaming of sugarplums or fairies.

Once I wasn't being rushed by post-holiday shoppers standing in queue, the task became a bit easier and a bit more natural. It really isn't hard to compliment strangers, and I think I actually do it on a more regular frequency than I would have otherwise thought. "I really love your necklace." "Those boots are fantastic." "Your baby is so beautiful."

These compliments could be left alone, just as they were, and that would be sufficient enough. But sometimes these compliments create something even more wonderful: a conversation.

Every conversation and every encounter needs to begin somewhere. What better place than to start it with a compliment. If the world could just learn to trust those compliments more, we would all be much better off.

Day 26

2009-12-29T20:23:00.000-08:00
About 10 months ago my life, as I knew it, was transformed into something very dark and very scary. From that point on, I spent everyday wishing for a new one until I found my health again.

Throughout this time, small glimpses of the true meaning of life became slowly apparent to me. Imagine throwing a handful of confetti into the air and watching it fall at half the speed. Once I regained my physical self back, my mental and emotional self had changed. I now realize, with much more clarity, the benefits of treating each day as if there weren't another. I realize that the world is right in front of me to go out and explore.

With my new sense of self and living I am armed with one of the most powerful tools in all of the world: motivation.

In the last few months I have spent most of my time attempting to grasp who I am and who I want to be. Without teaching and coaching to occupy me and pull me back into reality, I was left wandering inside my head. Daily conversations with my own synapses left me acknowledging a great need for change in my current game plan. Not knowing what sort of change ought to occur, my wandering increased and my abilities to carry on coherent conversations with others decreased at a rapid pace.

What does change look like?

After searching far and wide, I have determined that a change IS in order. I hoped very heavily that the change would come naturally, without effort, and I would live happily ever after. However, I am not sure it should be so easy. There are so many areas of my life that I could alter, but what would be the brightest path to travel? So, today I thought I would take a giant leap down a path and see where it may lead me.

Today I filled out an application to obtain a teaching certificate in British Columbia. From what I have researched, it is both a fairly simple process as well as a complex stack of fill-in-the-blank papers. Now, before some of you panic about me becoming a Canadian citizen (Mom, Kels, and Grandma)... I am doing this as a trial, mostly. I want to explore some options with the full-knowledge that I can always turn around and go back from where I came. That is the beauty of this change. I am completely confident in knowing that if I make the wrong choice I can always go back here.

You may be wondering, "Why this?" Here is the simplest explanation I can muster without showing too much of my current psychoses: In the physical and emotional wandering that I have been experiencing, I have begun to think that one of the easiest ways to transform your life and challenge your current existence is by removing yourself from your comforts. Truth be told, I am at an age where the crossroads are getting further down the horizon and I will be left with fewer options as I wait. I am not saying that I am entirely ready to take this leap; however, I can say that I am ready to explore it.

With all that said, I know I'd make a pretty good Kanuk, eh?

Day 25

2009-12-28T22:02:00.001-08:00
Death is something that people don't like to ponder. They don't like to think about it, to talk about it, or--least of all-- prepare for it.

I understand this completely, seeing as death is everyone's final mission. Death is the thing that lets you know that no matter how hard you try there is no going back. It is a dark reminder that you may not have done everything that you sought out to or that you may not have lived with the courage you intended. No matter how you look at it, death is despicable.

There are two types of death in my opinion, your own death and the death of others. To me, these events have stark contrast in inflicting emotion. When pondering my own demise, I don't feel much pain or anxiety, truly believing in a fatalist's world that "things happen for a reason". However, when adjusting my image to the death of others, emotions begin to heighten and my stomach churns in knots that wrench my insides.

This pain that I feel throughout my insides stems from a fairly selfish place. I don't want to know what the world is like without you in it. It is as simple as that. Yet, the Universe has yet to heed my request. Death cannot be stopped.

With a slight shudder to think, I began my quest for today with this in mind. Today I wrote my very own will. Truth be told, I needed some help; so I called out the forces of Microsoft Word to create me a template for such things. How am I supposed to know what a will should look like or sound like, for that matter?

So I sat down with it and filled in the blanks of the names of my loved ones that would be the rightful owners to my memories, if given the chance. It felt strange, and a bit unnatural--and not because it was about death-- because it was a stupid template that was creating my words for me. So, I started over.

I think that it was a good pal that encouraged me to do this before I left for India the first time. I didn't, but she's a smart girl, so I should probably have done it sooner. She told me that any written form should do, so I have now taken this approach. So basically I started from scratch, writing a letter as if I were no longer a mere speck on this planet.

It was a strange feeling, almost like I was expecting to die. Gross. I forced myself out of that idea and wrote from my heart. I wrote a letter to be read by everyone as if I had to go before saying goodbye. It was brief, although just as powerful as I would want a "goodbye" to be. I attempted encouraging words rather than legal mumbo-jumbo assigning my various financials. This felt right. This felt so much better and almost soothing to know that I will always have a chance to say goodbye, at anytime.

Like I said before, death is not something that is easy to talk about, nor should it be. Death should not take precedence over life, at any one time, although I do feel lighter having spent 20 minutes on it today.

As for now, I will go out and LIVE. I will continue my quest for knowledge, happiness, character, culture, and discovery. I will not dwell in the concept of death, but rather acknowledge its presence and encourage myself to live larger because of it.

Day 24

2009-12-27T20:04:00.000-08:00
Social networking websites, frightfully, are the doorways of our current futures. I realize this, fairly reluctantly, because something about social networking via the internet alarms me a bit. I feel like you lose a little bit of yourself through cyberspace, and there is always that crucial piece that cannot be transmitted through. However, I realize that technology is the means for a better future for most of us, so jump on the bandwagon I go.

Today I have created an educational group on the Facebook network. This group was created from a bundle of jumbled thoughts that have been swimming around in my head for several years. Taking what I have learned from being a coach, teacher, friend, outcast, and traveler I have come to realize that there is something very important in our world that should be important for EVERYONE, but often gets neglected: Education. Now, I am not necessarily speaking of education in the traditional, wood-painted-plastic-desks-in-rows sort of way, but rather in a more worldly, yet self-reflective sort of sense.

To create this group, I have outlined 5 different aspects that I feel are crucial in becoming a productive citizen of the world and have encouraged the members of these groups to take on these aspects as projects, much like I have been doing for the past 24 days or longer. I have invited everyone that I know that uses Facebook, in hopes that this group will actually have an impact on how people create their own lives through education. I truly feel that anyone can benefit from creating projects around these 5 categories that I have outlined in the profile page of this online group.

I have been sitting on these ideas, in one way or another, for years... never really knowing how to put it all together in a fruitful manner. By creating this group today, I will be considering this a stepping stone for me (and hopefully for many others too) to continue to realize my dreams for myself and others. Hopefully this group will not only create further steps for me, but maybe spin me into other ways of making ideals like mine more of a reality in the future.

Day 23

2009-12-27T00:51:00.000-08:00
Throughout this process, some of my experiences have been ones that I would never have done if it weren't for this project. However, some of the tasks that I have been undertaking are ones that I have thought of in the past andm for one reason or another, I haven't quite made it to the accomplishment-part of those ideas. Today was a perfect example of the latter.

Due to a tea party-themed baby shower I have become the rightful owner of a myriad of tea cups and other supplies that I am sure only the Mad Hatter himself would approve of. Once the shower was over and the dust had settled on that event, a garage sale was definitely in order.

While on bed rest, there were few things that I could do to truly occupy my mind and my time. One of the simple pleasures that I sought out quite regularly was list-making. This skill quickly turned into the realization that I was overwhelmed and over-outfitted with "stuff". Needless to say, the overdone garage sale turned out to be a little less than a hit, save the neighbors that stopped by to shop or to chat it up about the pavement or something.

Directly to the west of me resides a retired couple who seem to care for me from afar. I know that they are always very concerned for my well being and are caught watching over me every now and again. I take great comfort in this. At one point during my garage sale, the wife of the couple came by to see how things were going. After glancing around at the worn goods, her eyes rested upon a creamy ceramic teapot with delicate violet molded flowers carousel-ing around the lid. She let it be known that she would purchase this pot if no one else was interested by the end of the sale. She left and went about her day. We all did.

Now it is several months later and I had ALMOST long since forgotten about that teapot and the exchange with my neighbor... until today.

Waiting far past nightfall, I ventured over to the edge of the yard, teapot in hand, and left the gift that I should have given several months ago. It's strange how it was such a simple deed, yet it took this project to remind me of it. It is a shame, really, how I needed such a reminder. By far that has been one of the most helpful things about this whole project. It gives me a wonderful chance to look at my life on a daily basis and reflect as to what I am doing, what I should be doing, and what I will be doing.

I hope to take this feeling with me once this is all over. I want to reach down into my pocket for a piece of gum and pull out the feeling of accomplishment and reward along with it. I want to look in the mirror while brushing my teeth at night and see specks of experiences and tasks that led me to that very moment. I hope that this teaches me to remain more "in the moment" while creating good choices for me and my world that surrounds me.

Day 22

2009-12-25T23:46:00.000-08:00
The holidays are heavily centered around giving to others and helping those in need. But what happens when all of the giving and helping you try still doesn't fix it?

A couple weeks ago, a friend approached me with a fabulous experience to partake in on Christmas night. Her church has arranged a warming center to open on evenings where the temperature drops below freezing and/or there is some sort of precipitation falling from the sky. During the winter months this center is used virtually every night. From what I understand, there typically isn't a shortage of volunteers, except for on holiday nights such as Christmas.

Immediately I agreed to help out. What a wonderful way to spend my Christmas night! I wasn't really sure what I was getting into, but I knew that it would be a memorable experience for me.

After following written directions, I arrived to a bare parking lot. I parked and searched desperately for any sort of signage that would let me know that I was in the right place. Uncertain, I approached a man who was outside smoking a cigarette in the cold. I asked him if this was the church that I was looking for. With a puzzled expression on his face he grumbled something faintly reminiscent of words and opened the door. I entered, rather hesitantly, still unsure as to whether I was at the right place or not. Within mere moments of entering the building, my olfactory senses overwhelmed me with the acknowledgement of body odor. My guess was that I was in the right place.

The scene was unlike anything I have ever been a part of. There were literally dozens of men (and one woman), with blankets laid out in rows marking their fabric-specified territories for the night. Some were up and eating popcorn, sipping coffee, chatting with others, or simply reading one of the books pulled from the shelves. Others had already tucked themselves in for the night, with sweaters and loaner blankets covering virtually every piece of their bodies. Right away I was asked by a man who smelled a bit of whiskey if he could give me a hug. I obliged.

Two hours later, it was "lights out". I felt like I was volunteering at some summer camp, albeit a summer camp for overly intoxicated middle-aged boys. In the darkness there were snickers and giggles. At various points the men would get up to dance around a bit or yell at someone sleeping too close to them. One man in particular (the man who greeted me in embrace of all people) was escorted out of the building for refusing to be quiet. He had a kind soul and talked very highly of dogs. At one point he told my friend that he'd give her dog everything he owned, and wouldn't give her a thing. Touching.

After about an hour of "No More Monkeys Jumping On the Bed!" the room began to finally calm, when all of the sudden I heard some of the harshest breathing I have ever heard coming from the hallway that leads outside. Moving over towards where the sound was coming from, my mind flashed all kinds of thoughts about the origin of such a breath. Finally my ears followed keenly to a door. Glancing upward, the sign told me that it was the men's restroom. As soon as my brain tried to form a discussion about the pros and cons of entering the men's restroom when it was so blatantly inhabited by heavy breathing, one of the male staff members approached me to see what I was up to. I didn't have to explain the breathing, he heard it too.

The staff member propped open the door to find a man, soaking wet. He had fallen in the creek. Kicking into overdrive, I explained to the staff member that he needed to get out of his clothes and ran to grab some extra loaner blankets. Luckily, after only a few minutes, the soaking man began to liven up. I served him some coffee. He is fortunate tonight.

Among so many others, I met a Harvard scholar who goes by the name of "General". I met a kid that couldn't have been any older than 17 who suffered from bipolarism and was trying to get back on his feet with the help of a new cell phone given to him by his mom earlier in the day. I also met a man by the name of "Rabbit". He carried handfuls of sample-sized products in his duffel bag and was bragging about the fact that he had different toothpastes for morning and for night. He wore a black leather vest and no shirt.

For some, this experience might have seemed excruciating; but for me, it was terribly enlightening. There are so many people who need help in simple ways: like a shelter. But this is only a quick-fix to a much more involved and convoluted problem. These men were all cohorts, in one way or another. They came back to this warming center at every stop they could, and as it appeared, with very little desire or hope of changing things. I tried to look at their lifestyles in an optimistic view-- being able to travel on a whim, having no one to have to answer to, things like this.

Perhaps this is why all of these people ended up here tonight. This is the way they have intended things. Perhaps there were unsettling circumstances that led them to where they are tonight. All that I know is that a warm place to stay for the night is both the thing they needed most AND the thing they needed least.

Day 21

2009-12-24T22:57:00.000-08:00
Today I began with a very specific goal: I wanted simply to see how long I could swim. This is something that I've pondered quite often for a very long time. In doing this project, I realized, "What better day than Christmas Eve." And that is how my day began.

Knowing full well that my body works more like a machine than anything else when swimming, I was uncertain how long I could really go. It is usually referred to as the "insatiable endurance", and I pride myself on it very much. In thinking about it, I only hoped to be able to last as long as it took me to run a marathon a couple years back (just over 3 hours).

I think that one of the reasons that I haven't tried this task before is that I was scared that I was overly confident and overly proud of my physical capabilities. I mean, you have to get tired at some point, right?! So I have to say that embarking on this project has absolutely forced me to do things that I may have thought about for awhile, but just not yet had the courage to take the plunge... quite literally.

This plunge was more of a plop. The water was cold, but I felt prepared. I had chosen my gear wisely today. Rummaging through my basket of swimsuits for the softest, most comfortable ones. I picked the goggles that love my eye sockets almost as much as I do and a swim cap with just the right amount of grip. And so it goes... 25... 50... 75... 100. With every stroke I was immediately overcome with the looming anxiety of potential disappointment. I have always trusted my body in the water, far more than on any land. I've never needed anything extra to adapt my swimming, which has always meant so much to me. What if my body really CAN give out? What if I am not as strong as I think I am?

The first 1000 yards was the most grueling. Every lap gave me a keener notion of how cold the water was. My skin was tightening into little bumps acknowledging the vicious temperature change. My goggles were too tight, or not tight enough. My arm was going numb, the way it tends to do so often to remind me of the power that nerves have, especially when they are being constricted by your elbow joints. All of my concentration was placed upon negative things and the fear began to drown me.

Wait! I can control how I feel and what I think of this! I began to tell myself to focus on each stroke and note how the pull of the water feels and how wonderful it is to be able to feel such a thing.

Once my focus shifted a bit, I began to think only of the NOW and that lofty goal of yardage faded with my pains. The anxiety was gone. Imagine that: it wasn't about the end result after all. Yes, I feel quite accomplished to have finished 5000 yards in just over 3 hours of swim time; however, more importantly it was the process of getting there. It was coaching myself through the pain. It was engaging in a direct connection to my mind and body. It was forcing myself to feel everything and move on.

Only because I am so competitive and an over-achieving wannabe I will tell you that I did not quit because I was tired or even bored. Through this whole process, my mind and my body learned to work in sync with each other, giving me a heightened sense of my overall being. And that is the greatest practice that anyone can undertake.

Perhaps I will make this a new tradition. Let's go for 4 hours next Christmas Eve...

Day 20

2009-12-23T20:47:00.001-08:00

Brr... what I wouldn't give to be a kid again sometimes and actually enjoy when it snows. Nowadays I get caught up in thinking about how horrible my drive is going to be, or the inevitability of shoveling my ramp, or simply how cold and wet my hands become from those little frozen teardrops.

Today I wanted to change that. It is all about how you perceive things anyways, isn't it? Once my seasonal chore of shoveling was over I took some of the remaining snow along the edges of my walkway and started to attempt a sphere shape.

Apparently it has been a long time since I was a kid because the way NOT to make a snowman is by molding sphere shapes between your hands. This simply doesn't work. The snow was stubborn and wanted to remain its quintessential flakes full of uniqueness and individuality. They wouldn't melt enough to form together so I had to come up with a Plan B.

This plan went a little smoother. Starting from the base of my walkway, I began packing the snow, working upwards until I developed a mount that was more reminiscent of an anthill rather than a snowman. It was a good thing that I came prepared. I quickly outfitted my little frozen man with all of the appropriate appendages and attire: unused scarf from the corner of my closet, half of a carrot nose, little black button eyes (which ended up being different sizes and caused the little guy to look a bit worried), and a big red button in the middle of his torso to simulate some sort of clothing.

Maybe it is because I tend to get really mesmerized by the crafts that I take on, or maybe it is because I had a little bit of that kid still in me after all these years; but whatever the case, my snowman construction took away all of the anxiety, disappointment, and bothersome feelings of snow.

This little guy taught me that it is how you look at things that make all the difference. If you spend your days with anxiety on certain matters, those matters will plague you. If you change your thinking and those matters no longer cause negative emotions, things might start to appear in a whole new light.

One of the most powerful things that I have learned through all of my experiences here on Earth is that the world really only exists the way that I perceive it. When the world is good and right, it is so because I feel it to be. When the world is dark and full of despair, it is so for the very same reasons. If you learn to control the way that you see and feel the world, then you can actually change how you live in the world.

It's so fascinating that all of this came about from one little snowman.

Day 19

2009-12-22T22:19:00.000-08:00
It's funny for me to think that the only Christmas cards I sent out this year were to complete and total strangers. Allow me to explain...

Today I came across this website appropriately named, "Wish Upon A Hero." Through this website you can either make a wish or choose to grant one for someone else. What a fantastic community of individuals who have pledged to help people overcome obstacles, find their silver lining, and resume their faith in mankind.

On this site there is an entire section dedicated solely to sending cards. Immediately I thought that this sounded like a perfect fit to my day. So there I was, before I knew it, standing in the greeting card aisle starring into the streamlined sea of happy birthdays and get wells. In the empty shelves where the Christmas greetings once lived, I scrounged around until I found a small pack of 6 rectangular cards with the simple word of JOY placed on the front in an array of greens and reds. This was perfect. Along with that pack I also managed to pick up a few other birthday cards, seeing as some of the wish requests were actually for birthday cards rather than Christmas cards.

The people who created the wishes created them with very specific concerns in mind. Some were requesting for friends or relatives who have had a rough year. Some were requesting for others who may not make it to another holiday. There were even some who requested cards for themselves as a special gift through their own initiation.

I spent over an hour constructing the most appropriate, cheerful, and individualized messages into each and every card. For some of the cards I had a small paragraph-worth of a background on the recipient, others I didn't even have a name. Working with these things in mind, I tried to imagine the person that I was writing to. I tried very hard to find a true image of them so as to write the words that they could be longing to hear from this stranger. I also tried to picture what each of them would look like as they tore open the envelope from a stranger they were never to know.

Some of the best ways to touch one's life is through a simple gesture. Those cards are essentially colorful, folded pieces of paper. The words are sent from my heart, as best as I could for an unknown soul. The fact of the matter is that what I did today didn't take much out of me. It cost me little money and caused me to expend little effort... but the impact that such little things can have can be GREAT. That is my wish for today.

Day 18

2009-12-21T21:04:00.000-08:00
This project has been, so far, like a giant catalyst to one of the most influential experiences of my life. For one, it has accelerated me to contact several people from my past and write letters to corporate mongers with words of advice. AND now it has given me the inspiration to write someone who has given me inspiration.

Today I wrote the director of a program known as Pennies For Peace. Coincidentally, she works out of her home in Evergreen. (That, too, may be one of the reasons I felt compelled to write her.) I came across this program while doing research on another program known as the Central Asia Institute, chronicled and highlighted in the bestselling book, "Three Cups Of Tea" by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. After finishing this book, I felt as though my life had been changed forever. My desire to change the world through education only became stronger and louder... pumping through my blood vessels and, ultimately, expanding the life throughout my entire body.

The key to all of our world's largest troubles: war, terrorism, poverty, and hunger have the potential to all be solved with one simple art-- education. By giving individuals a proper education for their current culture and state, is like providing the blueprints or the framework of any construction. Many problems that occur in this world can be traced back to a lack of understanding of one another, a lack of the knowledge of resources, and a lack of the empowerment gained through academia.

In writing the director of Pennies For Peace I feel as though I actually have a voice. It is kind of funny because I have no idea how she will receive my words or even if she will receive them. But that isn't really the point. The point is EXPRESSION. It is one of the most important aspects of life. Some express themselves directly through interacting with others and some express themselves in other, more abstract methods.

Whatever the mode, expression of your feelings and passions is key to living a life of abundance.

Day 17

2009-12-20T21:46:00.000-08:00
The way in which we communicate is a very powerful tool for all living organisms. There are species of plants that use ultraviolet and infrared colors to create a visual runway pattern for insects to reach their nectar. Some apes have been known to develop sign language in order to communicate with their human captors. Whatever the case, communication is crucial for life.

As humans, we rely mostly upon or verbal senses to communicate. I wanted to put this notion to a test today.

I wanted to see if verbal communication was really the only way for humans to get across their motives, emotions, shortcomings, and stories. I thought that the best way to do this would be to watch a foreign film in a language that I knew little about and cover up the subtitles. This would leave me with just me and the visual aspects of the film itself. I chose a Japanese film entitled, "Premonition" roughly about a man who witnesses her daughter's death and becomes keenly aware of other deaths to occur in the future.

In order to take away the English subtitles, I strategically taped pieces of paper directly to my TV screen to cover them up (see photo above). Once the film began, I soon recognized the benefit for understanding written word. In the movie, the premonitions were displayed only in written form, and not being well versed in Japanese characters, those parts left me at a complete lost.

However, I mentioned above that this experiment would only allow me a visual aspect of communication-- which wasn't true at all. I caught myself turning the volume up on my TV to pay more attention to the tone that the actors were using. It didn't really matter what words they were using when I could pay attention to their inflections, gasps and sighs, and even the volume of their voices.

About a third of the way through the movie I sort of forgot that I wasn't understanding the language used. It was sort of like I was reading some sort of implied subtitles based solely off of visual and auditory cues that were far beyond the scope of words.

What this taught me was that it isn't necessarily what you are saying, but rather how you say it and how it is presented as a part of you. Expression can come from every inch of your body, head to toe, and that is an immense skill for anyone to actualize. Many times when the deepest emotions are felt there aren't really words to describe them anyway. In my short journey on this earth that has been, by far, one of the most frustrating aspects for me. But what this experience has taught me is that words aren't everything.

Day 16

2009-12-19T18:03:00.000-08:00
Sometimes I think it is good to try out different hats in our lives. Even if the hat doesn't really fit, it is pretty amazing to learn how it feels while you're wearing it.

Today I wore the hat of a vegan. After a complete soy breakfast, I actually thought to myself, "This isn't bad at all." Boy, was I in for it.

By about 11 o'clock I was dying for a finger-full of cookie dough as I sat there--craving and helpless-- cleaning out the small bits that had been stuck to the bowl. I always lick the bowl clean! But, it's okay, you see... I am learning.

Lunchtime came and went without my ability to directly participate. I met some friends for lunch at an Asian grill, thinking that it would probably be the best bet for me finding something that I could order. I was dead wrong. When asking the cashier, she was quick to tell me that NOTHING on their menu was vegan. Hmm... so much for lunch. Luckily, afterwards, a quick stroll took me through the parking lot to Whole Foods where I stocked up on nutritious and animal-free goodies to last me through the rest of the day.

I suppose the biggest thing that I learned today had nothing to actually do with being vegan. However, it taught me more about being cognizant of the foods that I choose to put in my mouth. I actually really liked having to work so hard to get food, it made the meals that I ate more worthwhile. I also thought a lot about the people that don't necessarily have a lot of food easily accessible: those with Celiac disease, the lactose intolerant, those that struggle with money, and people who live with limited agricultural resources.

Overall, trying on a new hat today gave me a great insight to food in general. I am not sure that I will ever decide to eat strictly vegan again, but I do hope to continue to be that aware... of it all.

Day 15

2009-12-18T22:06:00.001-08:00
To others, it might not seem as something out of the ordinary... but for me, I was completely out of my element.

Now I am not quite sure what element I am usually in; however, I can say that it never involves such things like garlic peelers, spoon rests, or egg timers. Today I had the brilliant idea to buy myself some kitchen supplies (plus I had a gift card literally burning black holes into my wallet). I am not sure that I have ever been to a kitchen store other than to buy my more confident-cooking friends birthday presents and things. But now that I am enjoying the art of cooking a bit more, I thought, "There's no time like the present for kitchen stuff!"

Immediately I was overwhelmed. Are there really separate utensils for the chopping of each kind of vegetable? Do trash cans really cost $100? What the heck is a ramekin? With all of these questions pouring into my brain, I began searching for answers. I feel like I now know what one of the first discoverers of Egyptian pyramids felt as he uncovered many of the tools and adornments located near the sarcophaguses. It was quite thrilling, nonetheless. Imagining a life where I needed such things as a tomato slicer gave me a sharp moment of want and shudder at the same time.

After over an hour of playing in rows and rows of cookware and bakeware and all sorts of other wares I took my gift card out and purchased my very own eco-friendly cutting board and less-than-fancy rolling pin. I can safely say that, prior to this moment, the only kitchen supplies that I have EVER purchased were cheap pans for things that I was needing to make at that very moment, and a complete necessity. All of the other stuff that keeps my cupboards warm and stuffed are hand-me-downs from beloved family members and friends.

I really love my cutting board.

Day 14

2009-12-17T22:02:00.000-08:00
When I was a kid, my family had the typical Christmastime tradition of piling into the car once it was dark, with hot cocoa and blankets in tow, and heading out to "ooh" and "aww" over all of the Christmas lights around the neighborhood. When it was a really special year, we'd even venture out to other neighborhoods around town.

I'm not sure what was so thrilling about this event, looking back. Perhaps it was just the sense of tradition and expectation that left me with this fond memory. Perhaps it was a time where there was little said, yet we were all together and actually enjoyed ourselves. Or maybe it was just the fact that I got to wear my pajamas out in public. No matter the reason, I sort of miss it.

Tonight I attempted a slight twist on the old tradition. I bundled up in layers of jackets, overstuffed mittens, a wool hat, and a headlamp and was set. With little in mind other that to enjoy the Christmas light displays that my neighbors have slaved away at during sub-below temperatures, I was out the door. I decided that my stringed-light window shopping would be done on foot, so to speak, rather than in my car... just to give it my own personal touch.

Traditions are peculiar things. They rarely make any logical sense, yet they are something that the heart yearns desperately for. I suppose it is the notion of togetherness combined with a sort of false assurance that things are always going to be that way which warms people so. In reality it is sort of a scary way to view things-- expecting and hoping that next year will be the same as the last? Whatever the security of these traditions, they bring people together and create memories that outlast any giant gift under the tree. That, I am sure of.

I think it is probably about time that I begin creating some of my own traditions to warm my heart and give me a little unrealistic assurance for tomorrow. It could be fun.

Day 13

2009-12-16T22:53:00.000-08:00
I just completed something that I have wanted to do for the past decade or so, possibly longer. The reason for not completing it sooner was due to the reluctance of how it would be received. But tonight, after sitting in front of my email for over 20 minutes debating all sorts of curious "what ifs" in my head, I came to the conclusion to just do it.

One of the most powerful tools that we as humans can display is the ability to use words to depict emotion. Being so powerful, one has got to choose words wisely in order to portray the most accurate experience to the person receiving it. This is, perhaps, why it has taken me so long to gain the power to describe all of my feelings to someone very important to me.

Tonight, I wrote an overly edited email to someone who, unintentionally, became responsible for changing my life so many years ago. I have been urged to share with her how she was never at fault, in my eyes. I have also wanted, desperately even, to express to her how wonderful my life has been and how I honestly wouldn't take ANY of it back for a second.

Grief, fear, and avoidance seem to rule so much of this world already; I couldn't let it continue to feel a part of my world anymore. Nobody deserves to feel pain when it isn't warranted. And when the chance arises to show someone that they need not feel that pain, you should jump at it, right?

My only worry is that I have chosen the wrong path in this instance. I hope that she finds comfort and feels a bit of closure. It is okay to unleash from the past and shed what has been burdening you for years if you feel it. I just hope this is, indeed, a much needed moment of resolution and that this will have an everlasting and positive effect on someone's life.

Day 12

2009-12-15T21:57:00.000-08:00
I am like most people in that I am inspired by others. I try to surround myself with people whom I admire and yearn to mirror more. This is where my journey led me today.

One of the best parts about teaching is how much you can learn from your students. Kids can be far more grounded and insightful than they may even know. I suppose it is something about their youth that keeps them more pure in character than others. Now when I say this, I do so with the burning image of peer pressure cruelties glowing bright in my mind. The way that teenagers behave is not wholly true to their character; they don't typically know this either. But every once in awhile you get a student that surprises you by having the ability to teach you AND does so with such poise and grace.

Last year while spending my days lecturing about the importance of cells and their organelles, demonstrating how divergent plate boundaries make mountains, and attempting to prove that there really is nothing other than biology in this world... I found myself intinctively reaching those kids on a more humanistic level. I learned about many of their lives outside of the school walls and made many efforts to be a good mentor to them.

One student, in particular, came to me on a number of occasions-- mostly to escape the drama of being a teenager-- to have lunch with and share thoughts of the world. We would talk about interesting animals, different visual art mediums, cherished books, and the world as we knew it. She is, by a long shot, one of the most mature and global-thinking teens I have ever had the privilege of teaching. Throughout our talks, she came to reveal that she had written and submitted an essay that she wrote on her beliefs.

If you have never heard of it, "This I Believe" is a fairly famed compilation of essays composed by authors of celebrity status all the way down to the local janitors at the supermarket. The website is based off of a radio program that aired in the 50s depicting stories of unique lives all over the country.

In much honor of my courageous and inspirational student, I chose today to write my own "This I Believe" essay. The terms for writing explain that it needs to simply be along the lines of something that you strongly believe in. Easy enough. Without really knowing for certain what that would be I began to write. I figured that something that I truly believed in would just simply come out on paper. And that it did.

I believe in myself.

Day 11

2009-12-14T22:05:00.000-08:00
Silence creates a lot of opportunity for growth and insight, where it is otherwise clouded in distraction.

Today I participated in a day of silence. I was extremely strategic in carrying out this task, in that I wanted to make sure that I had some moments of social interaction to truly test my assignment.

I never quite realized before how many people you interact with in a day. Almost immediately after joining the real world this morning in the ever-popular game, "Don't Run Out Of Gas," I was greeted by a kind man who asked to pump my gas for me. In order to acknowledge his request, I simply nodded as politely as I could. It was almost comical the way I tried to convey words through slight changes in my eyebrows or smile.

However stressful being out in public may have felt, it became very clear to me that it didn't matter that I wasn't speaking. I don't really think any one of the people I encountered today even noticed. They may have walked away from me thinking that I was slightly rude, but not being able to put their finger on it.

Could it be that we are just too self-centered to even stop and wonder about those people on the other side of our conversations? Do we really pay attention to what others are saying and conveying? I questioned this all day long.

I suppose that this became a very powerful lesson in listening to others and remaining aware of those in my path. It is sort of a struggle because, on one hand, nobody really exists outside of how I realize them; but on the other hand, the world around me (and its inhabitants) is what shapes the very being of who I am. Go figure.

Day 10

2009-12-13T22:21:00.000-08:00
What a perfect night for stargazing. Not only was the sky clear of hovering clouds and other weather, tonight was considered the best time for viewing the Geminid meteor shower.

From what I read, the meteor shower was going to be best viewed after 10pm, so shortly after the evening news began I hopped in my car and headed up the hill. I stationed my car at Pence Park, which is only a mile or so from my house and probably the highest point in Indian Hills. Finally putting my sunroof to good use, it was no longer considered the equivalent of a hood ornament.

The night sky has always had an eerie affect over me. There is so much wisdom felt in such a void atmosphere. I absolutely love watching the stars. My eyes get caught on the tiny flickers and my mind gets lost in the spaces in between. I could have sat there for hours. When observing the canopy of stars above, I can only acknowledge how small and insignificant I really am. Now, this isn't a discouraging thought to me. Rather, it is so encouraging to know how much is really out there and how much I have yet to explore. At that very minute, there were eyes from all over the world gazing at the same open sky. Fascinating!

I am only one of many. However, I often think of myself as one of those stars that I gaze upon. Although I may appear as all the others, twinkling in beat, without so much as a flicker different from all the rest. As you get closer to the space in which those stars actually reside, that is when it is made apparent that none of those shining objects are the same. They aren't the same size, same distance from the Earth, and they are not even the same sort of star. Some stars are near death, the end of their journey and the end of glowing brightly for us to wish on. Some stars are rather large and swelling, only to prepare for its eternal demise a few million years from now.

We are all so much more different than we appear from afar. We all have different makeups that create our sparkle. We all come from somewhere else and we are all in different stages of our shine.

The stars above come together every single night to drape the sky in constellations of forgotten times. They are always twinkling and shining no matter the stage or outcome it may have. I suppose that I wish I actually were more like a star. My strength and determination would be shown every single night, without fail, and the world could be watching in awe of the brilliance that I display surrounded by so many others.

Day 9

2009-12-12T10:40:00.001-08:00
For years I have been telling myself that it is okay not to finish projects that I start... mainly because I NEVER finish a project I start. My inner dialogue goes something like this:

"Don't worry about finishing that mosaic/painting/tiling/story writing/knitting/renovation. It is the process of doing the project that is worthwhile, not the actual outcome from it."

This conversation has occurred among my cerebrum so many times that I think I was actually believing it whole-heartedly. Wondering what it would be like to actually finish something, this morning I took the liberty to freeze my fingertips nearly off while finishing a long-overdue project from my past.

This project was to create a banner of encouragement and display it for all to see. I began this project nearly a year and a half ago when inspired by my friend, Sarah's, own banner she created while in Limoges. Like all of my projects, I worked diligently for days until it was nearly complete.... that's typically where my perpetual abandonment arises.

For many months I haven't even thought about this project, although it sits neatly in a pile on a bench in my living room... partially displayed. However, waking up this morning with my impending experiences on the brain (I think I am even dreaming about them now), I realized that it would be great to know what it felt like to FINISH something.

With my heavy-duty mittens and some plastic ties, I put up each letter one by one, taking care not to make it too crooked and removing dead branches from obstructing onlookers' views. Now I am the proud owner of a colorful banner of encouragement lined on my chain link fence, facing the highway in hopes of some eyes wondering.

The experience that I have endured today is not so much about the banner itself, although I am proud of it and hope so deeply that it gets the attention everyone deserves; but, rather, the notion of finishing something that I have started. I'm not quite sure where that part of my character was developed or if I was always that way, but I don't necessarily feel that it is only the journey of the experience anymore.

Sometimes it is the outcome as well.

Sometimes the outcome can give you an entirely new feeling about the whole project itself. Sometimes the completion of a project elicits strong emotions of joy simply from the act of knowing it is done.

Day 8

2009-12-11T21:46:00.000-08:00
Meditation has been an aspect of life for many cultures around the world for many ages. So many times have I attempted meditation... I even took a full-blown semester course on the subject in hopes that I could learn to understand this practice more.

Somehow I have always seemed to land short of a complete meditative experience. "Meditation For Dummies" didn't help. Trying it with soothing drops of essential oils didn't help. Guided meditations didn't work. Was I really a lost cause??

Today I was determined to cure my meditationosis once and for all. Perhaps it was the determination that led me to this point, or perhaps it was just a long time coming. Whatever the reason, it seemed to work better than I have known thus far.

I prepared by setting the mood with some calming soundscapes in the background, made a fire in my woodstove, and laid out my heavy-duty yoga mat. I decided that lying on my stomach was the best position for a non-contemplative, open mind. After taking the battery out of my phone and turning the lights down low, I was left only with my breath.

In, out, in, out, in, out...

Time appears to float away when your thoughts have too. After about an hour, I began with one eye and then the other. Looking around the shadows on the wall, I felt a sense of refresh and lightness. I finished out my session with the only appropriate dessert: yoga.

I consider this a start to many more practices. Maybe "Meditation For Dummies" can become some nice kindling for future sessions in front of the fireplace... or maybe I'll hold off for now. I can't possibly consider myself completely ready for every meditative journey. However, I have now learned that, ironically enough, it took the right mindset to complete release that very same mindset.

Day 7

2009-12-10T23:13:00.000-08:00
I can hardly believe that I have been doing this for a week, yet--at the same time-- I can hardly believe it's only been a week. I feel like I have learned so much AND there is still so much to learn. So I keep trying...

Just a few moments ago (barely meeting my deadline), I returned home from a night out with friends. Much of the night was spent brainstorming possible experiences for me to ensue today... with hardly any say from me at all. I had it in mind what I was going to do once I returned home; however I continue to remain open to chance opportunities that may come my way throughout a given day.

There were suggestions of stealing a ladder that was clearly marked in permanent writing that it was not to be stolen. There were suggestions that I try a new food. There were suggestions about me licking a toilet. NONE of these were sufficient enough nor followed the vague rules that I have for this project, most likely outlined by my heart more than my head.

So there it was, I came home without having stolen, eaten, or licked so much as an ice cube. Tonight's lack of entertainment (apparently by me for my friends' disposal) left me with a task that I sort of feared, yet sort of anticipated would be a beneficial step in my journey.

I decided to write to any person that was considered, at one time or another, to be a close friend in my life that somehow expired without much resolution. I came up with four very qualified candidates for this assignment-- and I truly hope there weren't more. I spent the past hour composing email letters of gratitude, condolences, and goodwill for each of them. Each letter becoming exponentially harder than the one before.

I attempted to keep each letter brief, in hopes of being clear and true... in hopes of being as fair as I knew how to the receiver of such an experience.

Perhaps it is selfish of me to use this project and my own piece of mind to try to put a resolve on matters in the past. I just hope that each individual can see my desperate yearning to provide closure on wayward friendships that dissolved long ago.

From this experience, I think I have gained a better understanding for the human privilege. It is a privilege to be an animal that can express itself so precisely and so readily... although I fear that as we age our ability to maintain those constant expressions of emotion wither. I feel better for having the ability to acknowledge each of these people as an important part of my past: those people that really help shape who I am today-- sitting in front of a computer screen reflecting on brief moments that could otherwise be forgotten and lost to the PAST. I hope that each recipient of those emails can understand my intention for writing and can feel even a glimpse of my human privilege of expression. I hope that they can, too, have more closure and respect for friendships of long ago. Sometimes it is so hard to face things that are vulnerable to one's memory of themself...

Day 6

2009-12-09T19:54:00.000-08:00
Sometimes the most powerful presence is made by those who don't intend it, those that cannot speak for themselves, and those who have perhaps been forgotten so long ago.

The anniversary of my grandmother's passing is coming all too quickly in my mind. This will be the third one, and I can say that it never gets easier... but I suppose it shouldn't. She was a remarkable woman with many remarkable talents that have hopefully been passed down into my bloodstream. Oh, how I do miss her.

The plan for today was to visit her grave site for the first time ever. I have always been too afraid, too overcome, too close to even think of going before. But this is a new chapter in my life, one where I face things that may not be natural or joyful. The journey to the cemetery was simple, just a few directions to the east. I made it with little awareness of what I intended for this experience. Once I turned into the iron-barred archway my demeanor switched to something sullen, it was like a storm cloud had just made its way overhead. Not having ever visited before, I was lost as to where the site would be. Initially, I decided it would be a simple phone call to my dad to walk me through the path to get to her. I picked up the phone, but couldn't do it.

It was partially the fact that I wasn't sure if I was ready to see the tombstone-- that makes my memories of her something entirely different than they are now. It was also partially the fact that I didn't really want to talk about it, not to my dad... not to anyone. And it was also in part of the fact that I truly felt like my connection with grandma would go beyond death. I sat there, in my car with the radio off and the window partially down expecting that some cosmic display would send me to her, like gravity or something.

I drove and drove and drove, sometimes making new tracks with my car, being the first to journey down that particular path. I paid close attention to the grinding sound of the snow and the way that the light hit just barely to the tops of nearly all the rows of tombstones. I began focusing on the names and dates of those slabs of stone that so nonchalantly stood for full lives of individuals. Some names were names I recognized, not for those souls who laid resting, but names of people I have had in class or people that I was friends with in high school. These names were most likely not linked, but it made me think an awful lot about those that are currently in my life and how finite life on earth really is. There was a elderly man sitting in the front seat of his sedan, bawling, the way that you do when there is nothing to soothe, nowhere to retreat. It's painful to know that time, in many ways, works against us all and that the time we have to spend with each other is so rare and so unimaginable.

After an hour and a half, I realized, (with some reluctant relief) that I wasn't going to find her grave site this way... and I wasn't about to pick up the phone. So that was that.

Day 5

2009-12-08T20:51:00.000-08:00
I think I set my sights a bit too high today... but nonetheless, yet another eye-opening, mind-massaging experience.

Today's plan was to pick up Ayn Rand's, "Atlas Shrugged" and read it all the way through. For those who are unaware, this epic novel is over 1000 pages and in teeny-tiny microscopic font. As I mentioned before, I aimed for the sky and ended up somewhere around the foothills. Oh well.

Simply just being able to take an entire day to read is a strange notion in and of itself. The only events that interrupted my wonder of, "Who is John Galt?" was eating, driving, exercise therapy, and going to the bathroom... Otherwise, I literally spent all of today reading.

The story is a complex tale with underlying messages of the meaning of life, which I found to be extremely appropriate in a time like this. Even though I didn't manage cover-t0-cover, I learned a few things. 1) That just because a project doesn't reach its goal on time, doesn't mean it is for loss. The journey of climbing to your goal is really what makes all the difference, and 2) having the ability to dedicate an entire day to one task is both daunting and quite beautiful.

Day 4

2009-12-07T20:20:00.000-08:00
For those who know me, it has always been said that I am not much of a cook... which is only partially true. For as long as I can remember, I have lived alone and felt little desire to delve in culinary experiences as a solo act. For years, I have been trying (along with my dear friends) to remedy this illogical thought process and just turn on the silly stove or something. Today I began my quest with a cuisine that is ever so special to my heart and my stomach: Indian food.

Almost by chance I found myself at this wonderful Indian market, appropriately named "India's Market". Stepping foot inside excited my neurotransmitters and ignited my limbic system... I was sent back to a time and place, not too far away, that taught me so much about this life. An overpowering aroma took me straight back to the bustling streets of New Delhi. The faint scent of sewage and body odor chimed almost perfectly with the spices of curry, cardamom, and turmeric. I could have teared up from the swell of memories, and partially the extra hot red chili powder as well.

After purchasing those necessary items to complete my paneer masala recipe, I was well on my way. Paneer is also known as cottage cheese in India, but it is truly nothing like it. With the consistency of something more reminiscent of tofu, paneer is an equally delightful veg option in India. Masala is a variation of spices, usually some combination of onion, garlic, and ginger. This masterpiece was actually quite simple to prepare, considering I had no clue what I was doing.

Almost immediately after combining the onion, garlic, ginger, tomato, cardamom, and other spices, my world smelled authentically Indian. This was a perfect aromatic setting, which could only be topped off with a bindi and a kurta-- I had to dress the part.

With Hindi lyrics from only a sliver of the billions of Bollywood hits playing in the background, I banged my pans, spilled a lot of wheat flour, and burned my hand just a little bit. The whole thing was fantastic!

And the meal you ask? It was equally fantastic. I was pleasantly surprised with the tingle of spice on my lips as I scooped up the cubes of paneer blanketed in its comfort of masala. Dipping my homemade chapati (poor man's bread) into my bowl, my night was complete. I toasted my glass of soy milk to the world, to my world, took a sip and dug right back in.

When all was said and done, my mouth was on fire, my stomach was full, and my kitchen was a mess. I retired my bindi for another night and packaged the leftovers for another day. Cooking with a memory is, by far, the most satisfying kind.

Day 3

2009-12-06T20:42:00.000-08:00
Sometimes everyone needs a little encouragement or even a simple statement to put them facing the right direction. This was my inspiration today.

The job of deciding upon a daily task is getting increasingly stressful, I confess rather regrettably. However, this sort of stress comes from a very positive and enlightened place and I thoroughly welcome it. With that said, it took me until about 1pm today to even decide on my chosen experience. Once I did, however, I was off and running!

Armed with sticky notes, a red marker, and the encapsulated knowledge of inspired individuals I began my quest to enable those that crossed my path to be affirmed with strength, love, determination, and motivation. I chose many of my favorite quotes, and many that I have never even heard before and wrote them down-- one quote per sticky note. Vigorously writing, I must have made nearly 2-dozen miniature signs of support.

Throughout my day today, I left my mark--so to speak-- everywhere I journeyed. These quotes now display themselves in grocery store ATM machines, car windows, store walls, the gym bathroom, and various other locales around the Denver Metro area. The task of displaying these quotes almost became a sort of game to me, trying desperately to remain anonymous the whole way through. (This made extremely difficult by the fresh layer of white snow in every parking lot, marking my every tire track.)

Every time I left a sticky note I felt so curious about those soon-to-be-viewers of them. I wondered things about their reactions: If the viewer would smile, if the viewer would be in need of such a message, if the viewer would take it with them, or if the viewer might not even notice at all. These thoughts kept me energized all day long, so, in fact, that I have plans of continuing this project so long as it makes me feel contributory. Who knows, maybe you might see one of those quotes and, with a smile, think, "hey, I needed that" and slide it into your pocket to remember for awhile.

Day 2

2009-12-05T10:29:00.000-08:00
Today's task was a little premeditated, in that I actually had to set my alarm to wake up by 6:20. I did this all for the mere glory of seeing the sun rise over the horizon and visually echo itself onto some of the most beautiful land around.

After making the decision to ignore the sleepy slumber thoughts of the tempting "snooze" button, I quickly realized the meaning behind the alarm. My eyes shot open like a shutter does. This was Day 2 of my quest for new experiences! Yes!

Now with a spring to my step I hurriedly got dressed and brushed my teeth. Simultaneously toasting bread and boiling water, my breakfast picnic was well on its way. I was soon out the door.

I made it just in time for that sequence star we call the Sun to peek its little crown over the earth and wish me a very happy morning.

Sipping my tea, taking in every herb and every spice that was so delicately mashed together, I focused on the sun and the sky and the world around me.

The sun has a very specific job that we rely on in every possible way, so much so that we don't even notice that expectation. I sort of feel sorry for the sun, yet admire its gusto. What if Sun wanted to change paths and start orbiting in another galaxy? Does our endless expectations of that sunrise maintain poor Sun's gravitational pull?

Oh! But how fantastic is it at the same time to know that Sun will always be there, every single day. And if Sun can do it-- rise with such grace, power, and awe-- so should I. Perhaps today I learned that I should make dates with the sunrise more often. It's quiet brilliance is so remarkable, that it is such a shame it spends the majority of time unnoticed. And if not rendez-vous with Sun, I will just strive to be more like it.

Day 1

2009-12-04T20:16:00.000-08:00
So I suppose I should have started this thing off on a more positive of notes. However, what I accomplished today is something rare and beautiful in it's own way.

Today I decided to write and submit a formal complaint. I have never so much as complained about a hair in my food, let alone go so far as to type out words that will now be permanently recorded and documented until the end of eternity... or until it gets dumped in the trash and/or my computer crashes in a freak anti-gravity moment.

The complaint came from a rather recent event. Coming home from a trip to visit a dear friend, the male version of not-quite-me, I made what I thought would be a quick layover in Phoenix. To spare the details, I missed my flight after being held up in security over a gel-padded cushion that I have been using to transport everywhere since my recent surgeries and setbacks. It acts as the padding that my poor abused buttocks no longer has and is used for surfaces other than my wheelchair (think airplane seat). Full aware that gel is a substance that isn't allowed in large quantities by those TSA bodyguards, the stupid gel pad was never even a concern of mine, nor was it for the other 2 airports I had previously traveled in. However, that wasn't the case at the "friendliest airport in the world". Needless to say, 6 supervisors' rejections and multitudes of tears and lack of appropriate documentation (the scarred butt was apparently not enough) I was sent on my way... quite reluctantly with gel pad in hand, arriving to my gate 30 minutes after my flight had left the runway.

Writing this letter stopped being about my woeful journey virtually after the first sentence. There are far too many people in the world that either don't or cannot be advocates for their own health and bodies, thus leaving them far more helpless and harmed than before. Perhaps I could be someone that would have let the first confiscation of her medical supplies go. Perhaps I could be that same someone to develop another near-fatal wound.

AND that is what I learned from this experience. My body, my life is more meaningful to me than to lie quietly letting others dictate and determine my path. I care about myself far more. Consider this my first try at being a crusader for my physical being.

Project Me

2009-12-03T22:07:00.000-08:00
It's been a long time.

I have been trying to figure what path this blog should take, as well as my more immediate self... then I realized that I do far better when I have a project to tackle. Being out of work and in a whirlwind of new thoughts and feelings that only spending months in bed can do has left me with the inspiration of change and renewal. AND that is where I came up with this project:

Starting tomorrow I will begin a quest to experience life more on a daily basis. I will complete the project by experiencing something new each day until the new year. I will test my limits physically and mentally, I will step out of my comfort-zone, I will taste the world with a new tongue, I will try my best.

Every night before I lay my head on my pillow I will use this blog as a source to force myself to reflect on the experience of the day and share what I have done and learned as best as I can. This is Project Me. Wish me good luck...

Happy Birthday

2009-10-12T13:16:00.000-07:00
On Saturday night I helped to celebrate the 30th birthday of someone very special; someone that couldn't make it to their own 30th birthday.

The celebration was a concert dedicated to Jeremy Bottoms, held by his older brother, Brady. Brady has been playing and performing music his whole life, and couldn't possibly know another way to express his love and memory of Jeremy. With cupcakes and beer flowing through the crowd, Brady performed on stage from his heart like nothing I have ever seen. Holding back tears so vividly the back of my throat was sore and I was so glad that my surroundings were dark and loud. It was a magical moment, one that I rarely feel nowadays... a moment that brought me back to the night that would change everything forever.

Jeremy was my date and boyfriend that night that our car collided into the night sky. He was less than fortunate, for he didn't make it. I often reflect on that night, the accident, the change... and wonder how exactly my fate twisted so. Beyond my injuries and everyone elses', my mind spends time realizing all of the experiences that Jeremy would never know. That is the hardest part. Knowing that someone's life couldn't endure long enough to discover what it actually meant and felt like to be alive.

And because of that, I will try never to take it for granted. Happy 30th, Jeremy.

Take A Swim

2009-09-22T19:46:00.000-07:00

Today I realized that my life would be so much more free if I could do it all underwater.
I am up to sitting in my chair for 2 hours now, and figured that it was as good of a time as any to get back in the pool. I haven't been for 6 months. I have never gone this long without swimming in my life, and that is the truth.
There was a lot of anxiety before getting in: Was my butt going to hold in tact while sitting on the edge of the pool (with a cushion)? Did I remember how to freestyle and backstroke? Was I going to be able to get back into my chair post-workout? Could I remember how to socialize with the rest of the world?
The moment my body touched the water, tears began to well up in my goggles. It had been so long since I had been here. I have been through so much. With each stroke I remembered all of the little events that led up to this. All of the good, all of the not-so-good. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe.
Swimming is only one of a billion things that will forever remind me of how beautiful life can be. I actually hope that I cry a little bit every time I take a swim.

My New Job

2009-09-17T17:51:00.000-07:00
You take one part wellness, two parts boredom, and a dash of financial struggle... and what do you get? An online writing gig, that's what.

If you haven't heard of Examiner.com it is an online source for news and local events. Since becoming an examiner, I have read various articles from other examiners ranging from the best bike rides in Boulder to cooking with sweet potatoes to the latest Rockies news.

As for me, I have worked hard in the last few days to become known as the Denver Adapted Recreation Examiner. I write articles on adaptive recreation events, organizations, tips, and I don't know what else here in town. I am pretty excited to be able to put all of my new energy and effort into something that can, hopefully, be useful to the puplic (and make a buck or two in the process!)

Remembering To Live

2009-09-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

Who Would Have Thought?

2009-09-06T10:16:00.000-07:00
I'll be home sometime this week...

For What It's Worth

2009-09-02T06:52:00.000-07:00

It is not in my nature to, A) worry about money and B) change my lifestyle because of it. But people can change, right?!
Since March I have been on a medical leave from school and haven't been able to go back. The one life vest in this sea of adulthood came from my long-term disability policy at school. They have been supplementing me with 60% my pay. I am a fool for thinking this was a lot of money! I am blessed, however, to be getting any sort of payment at all while I am away from my kiddos. It is just poor, poor timing. Don't all of those people involved with health insurance realize that being sick so long equates to not being able to work which also equates to not having any money? But yet they still send me bills and reminders of my current impoverished state. No fair!
While in the hospital, I have had a lot of time to plan for my decreased income... as best as I know how. I have written some travel articles and attempted to have them published, I have written two pieces for this woman's upcoming book of memoirs (free of charge but incredibly rewarding), and I have even attempted poetry at the greeting card level. I spend every morning checking for freelance writing and blogging gigs, and every afternoon making bracelets and necklaces for a garage sale in the works. I think I am figuring it out.
I have applied for financial assistance with getting a new wheelchair, from several sources. My insurance will cover up to $2000 for a new wheelchair... which is helpful if I could get away with one of those old clunkers that the hospitals and grocery stores use. Hopefully, one or two of these sources will find me as pathetic as I feel and just give me a buck or two.
A local wheelchair supply company came out to my hospital room yesterday to help start the order for my new set of wheels. That meant that I was able to actually sit in my chair... for 5 minutes... twice! It was the first time I have been in my chair since my surgery at the end of July. It felt good, but incredibly awkward. I realized, immediately, that my oh-so-cool core strength that I have become so proud of is virtually non-existent at this point. I suppose it gives me something new to work on during the day, alongside my job postings and jewelry-making.
Here's a secret though: it's kind of fun to wear so many hats. This whole experience has left me no choice but to be out of the box a bit. It may be cold at times and feel a bit strange, but I feel that it is a good place for me to play for awhile.

Let There Be Light

2009-08-23T17:25:00.000-07:00
Since my surgery, I have had a bouquet of remarks from all kinds of medical staff about my attitude. I hear on almost a daily basis praise of inspiration and grace... but do I really deserve that?

Sure, I know I am a good patient. I never complain when my toothbrush doesn't get rinsed out and sits in my spit-container all night. I never complain when my meal is smothered in gravy, leaving barely a gasp left from the meat underneath. I never complain about not being able to get out of my bed. I never complain about my lotion being left just a centimeter out of my reach. BUT all of this, by no means, equates to such praise of character.

I have been intentionally convincing myself as the days shorten that there must be some very unwilling souls in this place. It must be hard to work with so many non-compliant patients. However, it wasn't until just a second ago that I realized that it wasn't truly the case. In chatting it up with my day-nurse, as I do quite frequently, I learned that these patients were no different than me, physically. Most were "flap" patients on bed rest at different stages of their protocol. Most had family and friends that came to visit with fists full of homemade goodies and fresh flowers. But there was a difference. My nurse pointed out to me something so obvious, something that I have known all along. Something that I never knew to be such a gift. It is the outlook that I create for myself and the actions that I make because of it all.

Starting to understand a little bit of what is complimented towards me, I feel a bit shy, like the first time a boy ever told me I was pretty. That is the kind of feeling I have about it... boy, I am strange. I now surrender to the notion that I do see the light in things more frequently and at a greater wavelength than others, but does that truly make me inspirational? I think that it makes me in tuned and close to seeing the natural way that life makes present... and I suppose I AM proud of that. There, I admitted it.

I am proud of myself.
__________________________________________________________________

The countdown begins... less than 3 weeks to go and only a few more days of flat bed rest.
__________________________________________________________________

Let there be light.

No BUTTS About It

2009-08-10T07:14:00.000-07:00

My surgery went surprisingly well. After everything that I've been struggling with since March, I was sort of in the habit of expecting the worse. However, after only a 2 hour surgery, nearly 30 staples, and lots of care I was now on the road to recovery.

There was far less infection than the doc thought. This was good because it meant that he didn't have to use my hamstring, I had enough butt tissue for him to just swing it over like a party favor and staple the whole thing closed. There are 2 layers involved: muscle and skin. Both layers contain a lot of internal stitches to keep the whole masterpiece in tact.

The biggest shock of the whole event was that the surgeon found a chunk of ischial bone "floating" around my butt cheek. He successfully removed the bone before he finished me up with 2 drains coming out the side to help with healing and many, many staples. This chunk of bone, recorded to be about the size of a quarter, could have very well been the culprit all along.

How did I not realize that I broke my pelvic bone off?? I know I don't really feel that area, but one could suspect that I would, at the very least, recognize a big bump or fall to cause it. I guess not.

Now, being about a week and a half post-surgery, things are going well. My antibiotics have been discontinued and my PICC line IV was taken out on Thursday. It feels great to have both arms back. I didn't quite realize how inaccessible that PICC made my arm, and I didn't quite realize what a big scar would be left in its place.

It's amazing to think of how much things change in a year. If you don't believe me, check my blog post from a year ago!

Renewed, Uplifted, and Alive

2009-08-06T21:02:00.000-07:00
As the dust begins to settle, my eyes are far less squinted and I can faintly make out the silhouettes of the dreams and loved ones that have kept me going. Until now, I didn't quite grasp the depth of the hole that I was in-- a hole that was dark and unwilling to cooperate with time.

Now, however, it is a new day. Physically signified by the lack of night sweats and fatigue. Emotionally by the bold laughter ringing out the door of my vocal cords and resting ever so gently on my tongue, just long enough to embrace the experience. Mentally present is the cerebral overload of things to come-- all of those little adventures get lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

I am renewed.

As I lie here in my hospital bed built for a queen, I smile rather vividly, for the fact that I know the battle is over and I have won. At a time when I felt most defeated, I was actually being coached on the most raw of emotions one could ever imagine... and for that, I am stronger now.

I am uplifted.

Every day spent is a day closer to being whole again. I can feel how close I am to a health that I once knew, and something (gulped with guilt) taken for granted. I vow here and always, from this moment on, to forever remember the little gifts that are handed out and mostly remain unseen.

I am alive.

My roots lie deep into the earth and the sun is, once again, shining for me; creating shadows of memories and things yet to be discovered. I am ready to grow again and take in all that this tiny, little world has in store.

The only regret and shame felt is the notion that one has to feel such pain and loss to truly be able to stand up. I am here to remain tall and proud. I am here to feel it all.

Grandma's Rings

2009-07-23T11:44:00.000-07:00
For those who know me, you know that I wear--almost obsessively--a wedding band and ring on the wrong finger (of course). These rings were my great-grandmother's wedding rings and a gift from my grandmother who passed a little over 2 years ago.

I cherish these rings, not only for their history and family connection, but because it became a sort of silent mantra sung to me everyday in the voice of my grandmother. I spend my days twirling the rings around my finger, because apparently my great-grandmother had hands more reminiscent of a great-grandfather. Being so fearful of wearing diamonds, I check my hand multiple times a day, making sure that I didn't lose them or break them or ruin them.

And then it happened...

I lost one of the diamonds in the band. The last one of five, to be exact. I was sick, I am sick about it... but it got my mind churning once again as it does when little instances poke in my life. I am sure there is meaning behind this event.

So, I lost a stone. It's not the fact that it looks tacky or unfinished. It's the fact that I lost a part of my grandma and great-grandma with it. Please, it has nothing to do with the cost of the diamond or the cost to fix it for that matter. It is simply about me losing a piece of something so precious to me.

But... what is lost? Losing this stone didn't cause me to lose any memories from before. Losing this stone didn't take me any further from my grandmother in my mind. And on some level I can relate this instance to my recent health matters.

I am so tormented by having this infection and being sick, like a part of me has been damaged and lost in the process. Not the "true" ME, but the aesthetic ME... the diamond-band-with-a-missing-stone ME. But having this physical lesson in loss with the ring, I have come to realize how much your mind and spirit can take precedence over your body. Yes, my body is damaged and yes, it will most likely be damaged for good... but what does that mean? Nothing. Nothing, other than all of the knowledge I have gained from the experience. Nothing, other that all of the insight that has fed my soul.

So hear I sit, hole in my ring, hole in my butt. No better, no worse for having so. For physically, I maybe be struggling; but as long as I have my mind to balance things out, I will ALWAYS be okay.

The Light At the End Of the Tunnel Comes From Within

2009-07-23T11:31:00.000-07:00

Having little success in changing the mind of the big bully business masked as simple health care, I am now forced to come to terms with the fact that Craig Hospital will NOT be a part of my recovery plan.
Kaiser, being stubborn and proud, could not comprehend how somewhere like Craig Hospital could possibly be able to perform at heights or lengths beyond themselves. Perhaps one day I can change their minds... but in the meantime I am preparing for surgery next Wednesday, the 29th.
At first I was rather scared and apprehensive about my proposed plan of action, being one that includes a "get rid of it at all costs" sort of approach. At the cost of my current sitting posture? Yes. At the cost of potential use of extremity muscles in the future? Absolutely.
Frightened, I tried desperately to wheel-and-deal with the plastic surgeon to try to find some kind of a happy medium. Though, as he quickly explained in a less than soothing manner, that if we skimp on any one part of the procedure, my likelihood of returning to this current state is inevitable.
I agree.
So here I am, the last day hooked up to that once disgusting, now calming wound VAC of mine. The plastic surgeon is taking it off today to prepare the wound for surgery-- by sticking a bleach solution in it to clean it. GROSS!
As for my job, I tend to remain the luckiest girl in the world. In speaking with the new principal, it has been decided that I can continue the leave I began in the spring, and I will do so through the first semester. I will return to my latest kiddos in January. Much longer than I would have hoped, but at least I will be able to be a half of this school year! The extra time will also provide me with a much needed breath from all of the stress and turmoil this little infection has caused me.
With a settling mind and a strong sense of patience, I will get through this all before I know it. It will soon be a memory of things not so bad. That is how it always works-- those memories of past sadness and distress fade to those things that are much more warm and precious to remember. I look forward to that.

Fingers Crossed

2009-07-13T17:14:00.000-07:00

As of Friday, I am now trying something A LOT out of my element. To my relief, a friend that works at Craig Rehab Hospital came to my rescue by securing me an appointment with, not just a Craig doc, but the Medical Director himself! During that appointment it was decided that SOMETHING additional needed to be done. Kaiser was stumbling in several areas: 1) taking far too long to address my medical plan, 2) the lack of an infectious disease doctor in my life, 3) neglecting communication among departments that are crucial to my recovery, and 4) understanding not only the past in terms of the cause of this whole ordeal, but also the future and further prevention of such an event later on in life.
So it's been said that Craig Hospital is, by far, one of the most amazing hospitals in the States and definitely the place where I would like to spend my surgery and recovery. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to fight for my health, and ultimately my life back.
I am currently in the process of emulating the most annoying patient the medical community has ever seen. I have put phone calls into my primary care doc, my general surgeon, as well as my chronic care coordinator in order to try to get referred to Craig Hospital for my treatment.
Now, if I've learned anything about Kaiser, I have learned that they are quite proud. This could be considered such an asset, that is unless you are trying to flee the system. My normally cool and remarkably passive behavior is going to have to be altered. Just call me Mr. Hyde. I hate to see this demeanor for myself; however, I am unsure of how else to proceed.
To top that, there is a fairly high probability that I will forced to resign from my current teaching position due solely to the fact that I have no idea when a full recovery will actually take place. Not necessarily at the fault of the school or the school system, I realize that, but it certainly doesn't help me pay those piling medical bills.
I have no faith in Time and those tricky games he tends to play on me. Fingers crossed, things will start turning around soon and all of those bullies in my life, like Time and Money and Planning and Luck will start to accept me once again and throw me a party in the end.

My Train Wreck

2009-07-07T15:21:00.001-07:00
Only recently have I ever understood those depression commercials where they have a cartoon character releasing teardrops into their morning cereals, fighting to find meaning to get up and go. This is probably the most notable reason for my lack of writing and updating, although there have been others.

I currently have a broken computer and wait daily for Dell to surprise me with my new best friend. Being without has made bed rest a lot less tolerable. One thing that has kept me going through this all is the new addition of my first niece, Marleigh Jane. She's a hoot and knows exactly how to make me smile without even opening her eyes.

As for my current medical status, I just found out yesterday that I will be having yet another surgery before this ordeal comes to an end. This will be, if anyone is keeping score, the 4th surgery since I became ill back in March. The difference between this surgery and the others that I have sustained is that they are filling holes this time rather than making them.

After a rather frustrating game of "Monkey in the Middle" with different Kaiser departments, it has been determined that the plastic surgery team will carry my case. I met with Dr. McDowell, the plastic surgeon, yesterday. He informed me that I am to have surgery in about a month, where they will take my right hamstring muscle and cut it off the knee in order to stretch it up to my buttocks area. This is an utter disappointment to me because of all of the work that I have done thus far with trying to regain muscle control in that area. By moving that muscle and the adjacent tissue, they will be able to successfully close the wound for good and I will lose any hope of ever using that muscle again.

Along with the wound closure, the plastic surgery team will be assessing my pelvic bone and hip. With any luck, they will only need to scrape it a bit to rid it of any infection. I have been warned, however, that the bone could be more extensively infected and need the care of the osteopaths to cut the diseased bone away. I am hoping for the slight scrape as opposed to the cut-it-out method, for obvious reasons.

In the meantime, I am modifying my bed rest schedule to include various activities that I enjoy: visiting my new baby niece, barbecuing with friends, attending weddings, etc. I need to do all that I can to prepare for another bout of serious bed rest (4-6 weeks), this time in a hospital setting.

All in all, it looks like (at the earliest) that I will be back into some sort of normalcy by mid-September. I have no clue what this means for teaching, coaching, triathloning, or any of it for that matter. BUT at least there is a light somewhere, ever so faint, at the end of the tunnel.

The Tao Of Spider

2009-05-28T20:34:00.000-07:00
I lay here in bed after a long day of healing, in the pitch dark save the bedside lamp that emits light about as appropriate as a single tea-light candle. The mood is perfect for contemplation. The Shins hum somewhere in the distance. One thing that bed rest supplies you full of is a good sense of self-reflection and self-conversation.

As I gaze upward towards where I wish the stars would be, my eyes innately trail the only moving feature in their view. It's the eyes job to do such a thing, a natural defense from being poked out, I suppose. That feature just so happens to be a faint little spider making his way across my ceiling. Ewww... you say. Fascinating... I say.

This spider, no larger than a pencil eraser, attempts his journey with such intent and purpose. I admire that, all the well knowing that this little creature has about as much of a brain as my little finger does... maybe less.

He stops momentarily. For what? To reroute? To flee? To buy his girlfriend flowers?

This absolutely seemingly meaningless venture proves to me that we all have natural needs and desires to meet, whether we have a brain large enough to perceive them or not. I seem to think that I know what I want and what I need, but deep down there is a smarter me that is making all of the right decisions, even when not so transparent decisions are seen to be made.

There are so many moments where I feel defeated, like my life is stuck, at a standstill, a standoff. Who's going to pull the trigger first? But, in actuality, my life continues just as before, just as always. There is no moment that the little spider doesn't PHHHHTTT PHHHHTTTT PHHHHHHT his 4-sets of legs with purpose. Same with me. Just because my life is proceeding in a sub-ordinary fashion to all current witnesses, doesn't mean for a second that it is all for loss.

I am no less here now than I was two months ago, or two months from now for that matter. And as long as I remain alongside that little spider, my wheels will continue to spin in one way or another and life will, once again, surprise me.

Back To The Place Where It All Began

2009-05-17T18:44:00.000-07:00
Just as I was starting to get the pull of insanity of my forced home-stay, a hidden blessing shot me like a arrow to the butt.

Thursday night a coworker of mine came up to my house to deliver food and visit. On her departure, she gave me a hug to remind me that everything was going to be okay. The hug helped. The one thing that she noticed, however, was that I was warm to the touch. Once she left I took my temperature and it was 101.8! HOW??? The only remedy I could muster was to get some rest.

The next morning, before my routine morning protein shake I made it a priority to check my temperature again, first thing. My temperature was 97.1. PHEW!!!

Now here's where it all goes
D
O
W
N
hill...

I had a scheduled doctor's appointment later that day to check on the progress of my healing wound and my overall health. Wouldn't you know? My fever was back, and in the fiercest of manners. Immediately thoughts go to my wound. The surgeon checked it out and scratched his head in the utmost of confusion. The would actually looked okay. So where was the cause to this temporal immune response hiding its very unwanted little self?

After urine test and blood test and chest x-ray there was little relief to this little game of hide-and-seek. From there I was sent to another clinic to get a CAT scan to check for possible internal infections. There the culprit was found. The scan showed small pockets of fluid, abscesses, that were invading my pelvic bone.

Immediately, as immediate as hospital time ever is, I was admitted (or readmitted, rather) to the hospital that I left only 6 short weeks ago. Test after test after poke after prod leave the consensus to be a potential residual infection in my pelvic bone.

Luckily for me, I didn't need to go back to the operating room. I was so fearful, having nightmares even, thinking I was going to have yet ANOTHER wound to heal. I also had a brief, yet horrific, image of having my entire pelvis removed. Is that even possible?

After it was all said and done I left the hospital feeling renewed. I guess there really is a reason for everything. I had become so antsy with my healing and so obsessed with time and the fact that TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS. Time was certainly not healing my wound fast enough. I dreamed of tomorrow and made plans for the future-- all of this being extremely unhealthy for me. My short outings with the rest of the world slowly turned into resentment holidays. I hated those people on there bicycles and running down paved trails. This person was not me. I could feel it, but I didn't feel like I could do anything to help it...

UNTIL, a twist of fate ended me back in the place that this all started. I guess I needed a reminder of how far I have come already and another reminder of how I am so blessed that it could be so much worse.

So, with my new perspective in one hand and my old optimism in the other, I prepare to skip down the road of life and towards whatever lies ahead for me... with a smile, of course.

Top 10 Things That Make You Feel Better

2009-05-03T19:46:00.001-07:00
1. Frozen meals prepared with love by co-workers and parents of students alike.
2. Phone calls to friends who put their agendas away to find out about your healing progress.
3. Spider Solitaire.
4. Getting enough sleep... 5 hours per night is never going to cut it again.
5. Craft projects and pretty paper.
6. White chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.
7. Knowing that patience truly is a virtue; that is attainable.
8. Really, really hot showers.
9. The motivation that everything is going to be illuminated on the other side of this all.
10. Realizing that the sun rises and sets every single day and so should I.

Each Day Is A New Day

2009-04-22T10:41:00.000-07:00
My body is healing itself, yet at a slow and steady pace. In truth, I prefer the tortoise to the hare-- for the tortoise at least has a protective shell to keep him safe. Healing has begun and will continue. It is pretty remarkable that your body is capable of so much. There is no machine or procedure that can replicate that of your body's own healing processes.

I am still on bed rest, but my spirits are high. I have finally found the time to finish that book that I was really missing, to watch the movies that I hadn't even taken the wrapping off of, and to navigate my brain a bit in between.

I have to remind myself, however, at times that every day is a little bit better than the last. This sort of mantra came about last weekend when I was left without power for about 30 hours. It was very quiet and I became very skilled at starting fires-- normally, this probably would have been quite the welcomed accidental retreat. This time was different though. Any time I have something wrong with me medically, I become a worrier, full of anxiety and fear. This weekend was not so much as the retreat that it could have been. I worried constantly about my wound and the correct care for it. My home-healthcare nurse was stranded at her home in Evergreen with a tree landing on her roof. It was definitely trying, but I think that it reminded me that everyday is a new day. Everyday I am one step closer to being healed. Everyday I am stronger and wiser.

I remember back to the last sore that I had that put me out for 3 months. It's funny, really, because I don't remember the actual days of bed rest or pain... I just remember the feeling of getting out of the hospital and how wondrous the world had suddenly become. I am very much looking forward to that again. I can already sense signs of it: the warmth of sunshine on your skin, listening to a car radio, testing out a new restaurant, hearing the sound of people laughing in a crowd. These are all things that I miss, but for some reason or another, I've been reminded of them all.

The Healing Begins

2009-04-10T19:40:00.000-07:00
I've now had a week to get acclimated and figure out what my bedrested life is going to look like. My guess is, it will be fairly reminiscent of a teenage boy's typical everyday, minus the sports. My life pretty much consists of sleep, eat, and TV right now.

It is the strangest thing to be acting so lazy. My brain feels like I stayed home sick for the week, but my body knows the difference. I need my brain to continue to feel like I am sick so that I don't go completely nuts. As long as I am "sick," I will be able to comprehend the immobility and lack of social progress.

The strangeness continues, feeling almost 100% better. The only reminder of my infection and sepsis is feeling tired. Most of my body's metabolic jobs are going towards healing this wound; therefore, leaving little room for athletic energy or self-motivated fixing-things-around-the-house energy. So far, my body is requiring about 10 hours of sleep a night, my wheelchair is too heavy anymore, and it takes double the time to do just about any task.

My body is also requiring a lot of protein, which (I guess) I don't typically get enough of. I am not a vegetarian; however, I could be one very easily. I don't really like meat, but usually eat it to get a few extra nutrients throughout my week. With my wound sucking all the nutrient life out of me, it is important to get an adequate amount of protein: A) so that if it is part of the sucked matter, then so be it-- I have more where that came from, and B) that the required rebuilding and repair can take place. It is protein's claim-to-fame to be such a natural at building and repairing tissue. My body now requires about double the amount of protein as before. That's a lot of tuna in a can for me.

I suppose that when it all comes down to it, life is about reflecting and paying attention to you and your surroundings. I am assuming that these were things that I was not doing well at the time of my infection. Apparently someone, somewhere needed me to slow down and open my eyes. I am taking this bedrest vacation as a time for much of those things that become neglected when life moves at the rate of a tornado.

Keeping positivity on the matter, I will be able to heal quicker and with the least amount of resistance. I had my first outpatient doctor's appointment last Wednesday. My doc, Dr. Schreffler, commented that my would was healing very well so far. In fact, he said that it was almost half of it's original size already! If my body is capable of continuing on with such a rate, my body could be healed within the next 3 weeks or so. However, if healing plateaus, even just for a little bit, healing time could be anywhere from 1 month to 3 months.

I am remaining positive and fueling my body with the nutrients and love it needs. I am trying very hard to not riddicule my wound or butt or anything in that direction. I have stopped refering to my wound as stupid, gross, or lame. I need to embrace the thing in order for my body to willingly repair it, right?

As the healing in my body continues, I look for ways to keep my brain occupied and ways for enlightenment of the situation to occur. There is one thing that is for sure, I will do anything to make certain that this whole experience-- when said and done-- is successful and meaningful in making me a better, more well-rounded citizen of the world. That's what is important.

The Wound

2009-03-26T14:58:00.000-07:00
The snow is falling, yet again. Daytime television is for the birds. Sponge baths are losing their luster. I am beginning my second week in the hospital.

It isn't so bad. I feel as though I am getting the most optimal care at all ends. After 2 surgeries, my infection is close to defeated; leaving a deep hole in its place. Surgeons had to physically remove the infection, taking out dead tissue and leaving a fairly substantial wound in its place.

The battle with the wound is where I sit now. It is now my body's job to repair the disaster that the infection has created. I am really hoping that my body is up to the challenge, because there is a lot of healing required.

I do what I can to aid in the process: intaking loads of protein and pretending that I like meat, staying off of the wound to give it the best environment to heal, and resting my body and attempting the same with my brain.

It is scary to be set back by such a wound... truthfully my life has stopped and will be on hiatus until the wound is gone. This little thing is full of power and control. My every move will be devoted and dedicated to the little wound until it ceases to be a part of me.

Perhaps I will be able to take some time of good reflection and care for myself during this wound vacation. I am going to, absolutely, try to make the most of my life on hold.

A Setback In the Backside

2009-03-22T07:22:00.000-07:00
In my laundry list of things that I wanted and anticipated through my stem cell journeys, there was something extremely important that I have forgotten about... my butt!

Now please allow me to elaborate:
Any person that spends their days in a wheelchair has to be constantly shifting their weight around in sort of an obsessive dance with time. This is to limit the amount of pressure that an area endures over the course of each day. Worse case scenario, the tissue underneath the skin under pressure will begin to break down, causing what is known as a bedsore, skin sore, pressure sore, skin ulcer, decubitis ulcer, and a regular ol' pain in the butt.

Because this is of constant concern for me, it is surprising that this is the first time that I have considered adding it to my Stem Cell To-Do List. A few years back, I had one of those pains-in-the-butts to the point where I had to withdraw from all of my college courses, lay with strict orders of flat bed rest for 5 weeks, endure plastic surgery to conceal the wound, and ultimately spend 3 months in the hospital. I swore that I would never let it happen again.

And, somehow, I find myself here in room 455, the proud new owner of IV antibiotics and an unlimited number of rides on my air-pumped hospital bed. I know, I know... I promised. I am not quite sure what happened really.

The long and short of it is that it began last Monday as a terrible case of the "flu". Isn't it always the poor, defenseless influenza virus that gets the blame? By Tuesday afternoon, with a heart pulsing so obviously trying to tell me something and a fever that actually required Tylenol, I knew that something was not quite right. However, it wasn't until Wednesday that I actually had the self-diagnosis, followed closely by the medical thing, of Cellulitis-- a general word for an infection in tissue under the skin. By Thursday, I was anxiously waiting for some relief, but when I wasn't satisfied, I headed back for another evaluation. It wasn't until Friday that I actually took a day off from teaching (which I realize is probably why it got so bad in the first place). I rested all day long and, as sands in an hour glass, watched my body continue to swell. Saturday brought about a trip to Urgent Care, followed closely by a trip to the hospital, which is where I currently reside.

The prognosis is good and I am finally catching up with rest and catching up with myself.

As for those little savior stem cells, I know realize how important it would be to either: A) have feeling in my bootie simply to let me know that "ouch!" there's something wrong, or B) put a little junk in my trunk-- otherwise known as increased motor function to help build up overall muscle mass.

That will be my new goal, for sure.

From A Whisper To A Sound

2009-03-11T14:33:00.000-07:00
In the light of our new administration a ray of hope for those with incurable and fatal conditions is now felt as warmth as the ban on embryonic stem cell research is lifted here in the US.

Since my first trip to India, there have been many changes in my life-- both physically and emotionally (which I have solicited online via the wonderful world of Blogger). However, there is a another change that I rarely put the effort into telling about: the social and political change that has gone on inside of me. Truthfully, I was never aware of its existence beforehand, but now it appears to twist and turn and rotate in me much like that of a Rubik's cube desperately trying to find each of its sides of monochromatic victory.

For those who know me well, my political stance generally leans nowhere-- tending to stay in that unspoken gray area. I have never been known to be very opinionated; truth-be-told I have been marked by my friends as the last person on Earth to ever sport a bumper sticker, simply for the fact that there would be nothing I'd sway to so easily. Now don't mistake this for being dispassionate-- that is far from true. It is simply a matter of so readily being able to see both the black and the white of a situation; hence leaving an seemingly dull gray color behind. But for any of you that recognize color for what it truly is-- a conglomerate of the spectrum created with perfect quantities of ever-so-specialized proportions-- that my, so-called, gray area was, in fact, not as murky as it appears. This gray was the presence of all the specified fractions of the rainbow, simply all at once. I typically took much pride in being able to see many sides to one issue, much like that Rubik's cube being comprised of many other cubes of color working harmoniously in order to make that final product even more great.

It wasn't until my decision to pursue one of the most controversial of all topics that is argued today, that I became much more rigid in my thinking-- making it apparent that a definite pull to one side was to be announced.

This pull was created as a means to validate the decision to go abroad to encounter something that most were, even so much as, willing to talk about. When I first made my mind up to travel to India for embryonic stem cell treatment, I found myself almost whispering the word, "embryonic." It was created in the likeness of profanity, or at least (socially) that is what I had thought. The word rarely came out of my mouth, instead it was replaced with words like, "experimental" and finally to, "groundbreaking" when I became more excited to make the whole thing a reality.

But something has shifted now.

Suddenly, it is okay to use the term "embryonic." You hear it on the news, see it on commercials, and even find it in line at the grocery stores. This shift, perhaps, has come about thanks to one increasingly powerful individual-- the individual that we are all looking to "be the change that we want to see in the world", one Mr. President Obama.

His promise to revert Bush's veto of using federal monies for embryonic stem cell research has, almost overnight, made it okay for me to longer whisper my adventures made in India. I no longer feel perverse and strange-- this shift has even left me with a sense of pride and empowerment of myself. I want to show the world the true benefits of all that has transformed for me. I want to show off my little baby stem cells and dress them up in a bow tie and take them out for dinner to thank them for all they've done for me. I want to prove to the world that this is the right direction for medicine in our country to travel, no matter the gigantic leap that will be necessary to make.

In order for embryonic stem cell therapies to become available, readily, in the US I believe that a lot of collaboration will need to take place and a lot of control will need to be relinquished. Collaboration on the part of those who have been doing the research for over two decades. There have been many private agencies exploring the power of stem cells for years, and I am confident that the solution is found in letting go of the prestige of being a new marked name in history and being willing to recognize that the answer may be found outside of themselves. I believe (when I wear my little biologist hat) in the work of Dr. Shroff and I can only hope that someone here in the States will believe the same enough to want to explore/implore her procedures here. I also feel that in order for embryonic stem cell therapies to become a part of medicine here, there will need to be a huge shift in the power and control of our medical companies. There is much power and money held in pharmaceuticals and that hierarchy of healing will, no doubt, be challenged by stem cells. Implementing stem cell therapies would make the use of most medicines and medical treatments rendered as useless-- surely creating a paradigm change in our entire medical system here. Someone has to be willing to think of the lives of those in this country rather than only the financial and governmental gain of structure when laying out bricks of civilization.

But can that happen in my lifetime? Will the power of change be pursued in a manner that can transform an entire country or will we continue to be stuck in old thoughts and dollar signs?

Only time will tell, I suppose.

That's What Victor Hugo Said

2009-03-05T19:00:00.000-08:00

Almost a week after the talent show fund-raiser, I sit here STILL in awe over the brilliant kids that were kind enough to share with me and my loved ones their most proud gifts. It was amazing to be able to see all of these kids, these students, in a different light... the spotlight. I usually spend my days lecturing them, high-5ing them, coaching them, and greeting them in the halls. But this night was different. These kids were no longer kids, and they didn't even begin to resemble students. They were performers with the utmost confidence and care, swooning the crowd and creating smiles all-around.
To top it all off, we raised over $3000 for my future stem cell endeavors! It is such a humbling feeling of warmth to be able to reflect on all of the people in my life that love and support everything that I do. There are so many emotions that don't have names, at least ones that I know... which is terrible, because writing is the only way that I can keep connected with the world, and the world has NO idea how loved I truly feel.

There is much gratitude sent through rays of sunshine to everyone who helped to create the event, those who performed with their hearts, everyone who attended in support, and everyone else that couldn't make it but sent their love anyways.

“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.”

Fund-raising UPDATE

2009-02-16T18:36:00.000-08:00
Performing With A Purpose, talent show
February 28th, 7:30pm
Hilton Garden Inn in DTC **
tickets are $30. Please send inquiries to: performingwithapurpose@gmail.com

**note: the location has changed, click on the link for address and directions

Standing Tall... In My Garage?

2009-02-04T20:32:00.000-08:00
I am getting some parallel bars this weekend!!

I am extremely excited because that means that I will be able to continue to practice my walking with braces without having to be in India. I intend on putting them to great use and creating a new habit out of the whole thing.

Purchasing them off of a terribly kind heart from Craigslist I hope they are what I need and what will really help to push me to the next level of my body and soul.

My plan is to put them together (they are 10 feet long) in my garage. The problem is that I will have to do some major not-quite-spring cleaning. When my grandmother passed away a little over two years ago, I became very blessed to have my garage become the resting place of most of her worldly possessions. There are tables and chairs and mirrors and fake cacti (my grandma was a huge South West art fan) and photo albums and rugs and probably a kitchen sink as well. This has never been a problem for me, seeing as my grandmother is the most important soul in my life and having to be reminded of her every time I push the garage door opener served really as a treat more than anything.

The challenge now becomes: What to keep and what to give away?
...Perhaps I will just stack things higher and closer instead.

All Ears

2009-01-23T15:40:00.001-08:00
Since I have landed back on US soil, I have spent many minutes trying to pretend that it is really easy to pick up right where I left off. However, pretty much everyone knows that I have never been very good at pretending...

Although I have jumped right back into a busy schedule of teaching and grading and coaching and cleaning and laundry, all the while trying to maintain being a good family member and friend, I have (somehow) been able to drive up to Boulder twice this week for my exercise therapy.

Both Dave and Quint, my trainers and slave drivers at the SCI Recovery Project, have verbally admitted to a few "WOW!"s during the two 2-hour sessions this week. They have both remarked on my increased core stability and hip control. Naturally, I was eager to show them my baby crawl, and immediately they made me travel three times the length that I had previously done in India. With a lot of grunting, sweating, and the occasion loss of balance I was able to take it one knee at a time down the length of three mats.

I am very intuned with my body right now. It tells me that it needs to stretch and be moved. It needs to feel loved and taken care of. I feel extremely encouraged right now and have been swimming and cycling and yoga-posing in every spare moment that I can find. It's hard, but I know that it is very worth my while.

At school, I was welcomed back with cellphone and iPod-bearing open arms from both my swimmers and my students. It was a really meaningful experience for me to be able to share my story with each of these kiddos. On Friday, I made a special effort to remind kids about the quality and care of a life, being it the day before the Snowball Dance (the very dance that I found my life drastically change a whopping 12 years prior). It is really important to me, almost my duty, to remind these young adults that the decsions they make not only affects themselves, but trickles down its way to everyone that has ever come in contact with them. Making good decisions not only paves the way for not having to create regrets, but it also ensures that you are trying to keep pain and terror away from the people you love, and most of all... yourself.

This is always a bittersweet time for me. I really do feel like I have a message to fly across the world and back, calling out to any alert ears that cross my path. I just only hope that there is understanding and recognition within ear's shot...

Fund-Raiser Reminder

2009-01-23T15:33:00.001-08:00
The gals are gearing up for an amazing talent show. I can't wait to be privy to such entertainment and the enormous amount of talent and heart that these performers possess!

If you don't recall, the event will be held the evening of February 28th (my grandmother's birthday!) at 7:30 in the evening. The program will be centrally located in DTC, at the Double Tree Hotel. There will be desserts provided to get at your sweet-tooth during the performances. Performances include, but are certainly not limited to, dancing, singing, instrument playing, magic, and more.

If you are interested in attending, the tickets will be $30 in advance or at the door. To guarantee tickets, please email your request to Julia, Michelle, and Cara at:

performingwithapurpose@gmail.com

Thanks a bunch, and I really hope to see you all there!

Before You Learn How To Walk, You Must Learn How To...

2009-01-16T02:40:00.000-08:00

Anil

2009-01-16T02:11:00.000-08:00
Meet Anil:
He's been quite the constant facet to my shopping woes here in Delhi. His enormous smile and laughter has been a relief to me as I try desperately to find everyone the perfect gift.
I met Anil my first week here. He is a terrific salesman. He suckered me into buying a long, carefully bead-strung necklace. He picked out a perfect one for me with a spectrum of oranges and splashes of green. Only after a long conversation about school and life as a kiddo here, did I melt and give in to his smile. I paid the kid 20 Rs for him to choose a necklace for me, just after making it perfectly clear that I not only didn't require a necklace but I was doing it just because I liked him.
Anil is thirteen years old. I am not sure if he goes to school or not. He says that he does, but I am uncertain how he fits a school day in with his very lucrative traveling necklace shop. Even though he is small (he told me so himself), Anil has a great spirit and attracts pretty much all of the Western suckers like myself. He probably does pretty well for himself and his family with that grin of his... at least I can hope.
The creative genes of the family, so I am told, is his older sister. She is responsible for combining the colors and textures of the glass pieces to finally give rise to the stellar merchandise sold on the streets of Janpath.
One of the last times that I was strolling up and down the market, Anil spotted me, his "friend," and asked if I remembered his name. He promptly shook my hand. Right away it was down to business-- for this is all Anil really knows. Even though he considers to be fond of me, in our interactions he cannot help but try to sucker me out of 20 more rupees. When I explained to him that I didn't have any money, which was partially true-- I had just spent the last of my small change and was only left with a 500 bill-- he, without a flinch, picked up the brightest, most shiny of all the long beads and chucked it across the sidewalk to me. He simply stated, "Okay, this free."
I am not really sure of Anil's actual intention of this gift; perhaps he assumed that I was lying and would get the stinking 20 rupees if he forced the necklace on me-- whatever the case, a gift is a gift? No?
Immediately I began fumbling through my bag until I came up with the only thing of substance, apart from the tens of receipts, silly Indian sunglasses, sunscreen, and used chapstick: a notebook. This notebook, about the size of a checkbook, was given to me as a very special Christmas gift just before I left the States. It was made of wonderful handmade papers and sported the image of a Hindu god inlayed with glued-on jewels and creamy paints. Without much thought, I tossed the notebook in Anil's direction. He caught it and gave me two big eyebrow raises.
Continuing the stroll down the market, Anil called to me to exclaim that he didn't have the notebook. In a very sly stance, he pulled up the side of his shirt, exposing the hidden notebook, gave a little satisfied chuckled, and said that his sister was going to love it.
Last night, I made a special trip to Janpath to get my new little friend what he has really been searching for, a Pepsi and a bag of chips. It was probably the best 40 rupees I have ever spent!

Souvenirs

2009-01-13T00:50:00.000-08:00

It's rather important when focusing on life to put only emphasis on the things that are happening along with you. Right now, it's hard. There are a myriad of things that are upcoming that fill my mind, sprinkled in with a variety of photographic snapshots and memories of a month away in a life less ordinary. These are my souvenirs.
Really, when it all comes down to it, the souvenirs that you collect during life help to capture the memories of the things worth remembering. Souvenirs of sights and smells and colors and music. If you are ever in need of traveling back to a time when things were as before, a souvenir will help take you there. These souvenirs of life are useful to keep in your pocket when you are having trouble at looking at the present.
Presently, I somewhat struggle, as I did only a few short months ago, to find the realism in these two extremely apparent lives that I try desperately to live equally. There is no sensation of coexistence among them, however. Soon enough, I will be back with the life that I know so well, a life that I have successfully created for myself with a little help from the universe. I have a wonderful home and job and friends and family. I am eager to find those all waiting for me. However, there is a life that I have been piecing together here in India, sort of intentionally... sort of willingly... sort of nervously. As far as I know, my life is filled to the brim with meaning and beauty, but the brew here in India is something more exotic than I have ever known. Is there a way for these two realities to live together? I am not sure.
So until I can put that addition together to quantify the mathematics of it, I will sit here to focus on my breath and the sunlight and the never-steady pulse in my vessels. Truly, it's all I have. Worrying about the narrowed combination of a life to navigate to and a life to leave behind is unnecessary, to say the least.
In the meantime, between the pages of this novel, I will spend my moments with the smiles of haggard sales-children, brilliant flowers on the roadside, antiqued jewelry hung out in the alleyway to buy, and a steamed momo or two. I truly realize that there is no sense in worrying about my journey: where it is going, when it may end, what it may make me.
Tomorrow I will endure the last of this round of procedures. I am not sure what it will entail, but I am eager to get one more snowstorm of cells before I enter the true snowstorms awaiting for me in Colorado.
With that said, I am off to Janpath Market for perhaps a scarf, a wooden Ganesha sculpture, or a shiny brass singing bowl. Whatever the case, I am continuing to move forward with only so much as an appreciation of everything before right now and everything else to come. Because, truly, what else matters?

The Pulse Of Things

2009-01-09T03:50:00.000-08:00

Well I am finally back "home" in Green Park after a somewhat remarkably easy, double procedure. Of course I was going into this one with little faith in the ease of things, but was pleasantly surprised when the actually punctures came and went, headache-free and ready to rise.
After the initial insertion of the catheter in my spinal column, Dr. Ashish and his crew moved upwards from the L4-5 catheter site to a more anxiety-ridden T4 level-- a level at which I have complete sensation of all matters. Dr. Ashish promptly numbed the area, ironically using more shots, although that seemed to help some. I didn't feel near the pain nor the fright with this puncture as the last.
Dr. Ashish's precision is a thing to admire. He takes his time to locate specific markers that run, virtually impossibly detectable to you and me, until he hits the right spot. He may do this several times throughout the procedure, looking for what he only knows. After the injection into T4, he moved a bit lower to an area near T9 (where I have no feeling). I was eager to feel his poking move further downwards, and so was my pulse.
Here is where something quite strange to me occurred. As the needle was placed into my back, no awareness of the injection from my skin was noticed, until that needle hit my spinal cord. ZZZAAAPPPPP! I have never felt anything like this before and my body jolted in reaction. Had I been electrocuted? What is going on here?! My immediate reaction, of course, was more to the tune of, "I am sorry!" Dr. Ashish with slight excitement exclaims, "You felt that?" Naturally, to Dr. Ashish pain is always pleasant. But nonetheless, I felt it, I felt it like a jolt of 1000 volts entering straight into my spinal cord with no external indication from my integumentary system. Thanks a lot skin.
After the last injections were placed and the catheter flooded the outer layer of my spine, Dr. Ashish explained to me that the jolt that I felt at T9 shouldn't have happened. This makes perfect sense, as for all intents and purposes the spinal cord at that area should be dead. But dead, it was not. There is a lot of life there. I felt it screaming and sending its electrical signals like fireworks in celebration.
From then on it was a lot of rest, sleep, Yahtzee, South Park (sadly), and floods of stem cells.
It wasn't until this morning's injection that my body decided to let me know that there was really something happening. It is a normal parasympathetic response that the body reacts to with the influx of millions of stem cells at a time. As the cells glide into the perceived area, the pulse rate in anyone's body would surely decline. This is a good sign that Dr. Ashish notes that the cells are actually surging through to their destination.
This morning I received a double dosage so that I could make it back to Green Park by dinner. Sounds good to me. My body, however, was not quite ready for this. Almost immediately my pulse rate shot down to 50 beats per minute. I took note of Dr. Ashish's note of this as well. He slowed the progression of cells until my pulse made its way back to 60 or so. Dr. Ashish's goal is to get those cells right at my level of injury, T5, which just so happens to be the same place in which your heart is innervated. Lucky me.
By the end of the injection my pulse was down to about 45. With a little but if scare tactics for using additional medication to bring the pulse up, a little pinching in vulnerable arm areas by Graham, and a little leg massaging from Dr. Shroff, my pulse resurfaced to healthier zones until the frightening and pinching and massaging couldn't keep up. They ended up giving me an injection to release the contraction of my blood vessels to allow more blood to flow through. It worked within moments and all circulation was restored. Each doc spent some more time entertaining me and comforting me until one-by-one they exited to check on their other grateful patients.
Everyone feels fairly confident that I will really benefit from all of these new feelings. My body has never been so attuned to the pokes and prods and I suspect that is a good sign. Tomorrow my routine will return to normal and I should be able to start sensing those slight changes that have to potential to change everything.

PHYSIO

2009-01-05T22:30:00.000-08:00

2 Be Or Not 2 Be

2009-01-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

I am scheduled-- as scheduled as things are here-- for a procedure starting this Wednesday, we think. Actually, two procedures... yes, I am so lucky to get the 2-For-1 Deal here at NuTech MediWorld!!
Both procedures are familiar to me, seeing as I had both at least once during my first stay in the summer. One being the 3-day procedure where they will be inserting a catheter into my spinal column to be able to feed a slow flow of cells, twice daily, to nourish my entire body virtually one cell at a time. The second procedure is the dreaded lumbar puncture, in which this case Dr. Ashish assures me it is far less traumatic an experience since they have been using smaller needles. I will always believe Dr. Ashish.. so with my breath held at tightly pursed lips I am ready to go.
This also means, however, that I will be unable to communicate via computer for the next several days, but solace is always a good start for rejuvenation and healing... so don't worry too much.
I am a little worried, though, about the potential outcomes, or rather the opposite. Dr. Ashish and many other patients have sold me on the notion that putting these two procedures together offers the optimal benefits... but what if my optimal benefits are optimally lacking? It is a hard teeter-totter of emotion that I always reside: I want to do well for myself, but,even more willingly, I want to do well for others.
I want to have people proud of me. I want to stand out in the crowd for my accomplishments, and something like this procedure falls right in suit with those thoughts. I want to be able to come out of this as a stellar example of how well treatments like these work, and I can hope (for all of us) that my body will take kindly to those foreign cells that they are to meet in only a matter of days.
I suppose that I put a lot of pressure on myself for wanting to please others, I have always been that way. Many times, actually more like thousands of times I have been told that being that way is not good for anybody-- and to more than an extent, I agree. But apparently not enough to change my ways entirely.
So, I suppose it all comes down to me worrying about a procedure-- not because of any potential danger on my body-- but instead because of any remote possibility of my body not doing the best for me and everyone else around me. Silly, I know. Deep down I know that my body will do all that it can.
From here I know that I can speak to my body a little more clearly than in the past, and this time I know that it is ready to heal and ready to grow. Little cells, enter in and take a seat... you'll be here for awhile (if I have anything to say about it).
To everyone sitting back home waiting and reading my daily ponderings: this one's for me-- okay, sort of.

And We Finally Made It To Old Delhi...

2009-01-04T23:14:00.000-08:00
It's beautiful and magical and full of electricity (quite literally) and I can tell why it is called OLD Delhi, comparatively speaking.

A Step In Time

2009-01-02T22:11:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, for the first time since I have been using calipers and weak hip muscles to fling my legs in specific mimicry of something familiar, I felt a sense of release.
It felt as if I was, some how, not fighting with the obstacles of not being able to move my lower extremities the way that the rest of you do. I wasn't really pushing against those years of neglect on restricted muscles and tendons, and the pressure on my shoulders from acting as both the scaffolding and the foundation of my body had eased a breath or two.
From the first time, I felt like I could concentrate on the movement of those externally, eternally flexed legs that gave me posture and allowed me height. In the past, the movements have all been forced, to say the least. Not only was my upper body completely responsible for holding the rest of me upright, but it was also in charge of the actual steps that followed.
I am not sure if it is just that I am getting stronger and that my stamina is increasing, but it feels a lot lighter and a lot less forced as of now. I take less effort in standing and positioning so that I can use that strength to propel my body forwards, backwards, or sideways based on Chavi's careful instructions.
My gait has increased from 3 rounds on the first day to about 6 rounds. Perhaps the secret lies in gaining more confidence in the overall approach and execution of this maneuvering. Uncertain of the cause for things, I will continue to sweat and strive for increasing steps and controlled motions. I will take it one step at a time, for now!

Take A Queue From The New Year

2009-01-01T23:42:00.000-08:00
In a pseudo-honor of our New Year's back in the States, Graham and I decided to go to the "All-American Diner" for an omlette and some pancakes. In fact, as I was sipping my masala tea and dipping my pancakes into the maple syrup I glanced down at the time, 12:09 a.m back in Denver and said a silent "happy New Year" to all of you half a day away.
This diner, situated within the India Habitat Centre had the whole diner theme down to a science... complete with ruby red booths, Beatles memorabilia, and chocolate malts with bendy straws. After our stomachs were satisfied, we headed out of the Centre only to step out into a surprise of the longest queue I have ever witnessed, especially in India.
Now one thing that the Indians do not do well is stand in lines. I had to learn this the hard way the last trip as I was virtually trampled to buy a movie ticket or to buy some crackers at the local provision (grocery) store. You learn rather directly that you push your way to the position of whatever counter you need to be at. There is no hostilitity in this moment; however, it is just how things are done here. So in seeing a line, not to mention a line that stretched beyond my own vision was something I had to explore.
Graham and I walked down the street, with great intent and silence, alongside this line of eternal people for what must have been half of an hour. We walked through main stretchways, down alleyways, next to several shantys, all the while taking in every step of it.
It was rare to see one of those in line with shoes on, almost everyone was barefoot. There was some chatter, especially once we were in view, but for the most part it felt so serene. I felt the sense of importance and dedication that this line stood for. Men, women, and some children held freshly-cut flowers, mostly brilliant orange marigolds. Some flowers were captured in plastic bags, others were placed, more strategically, in homemade woven baskets. This appeared to be some sort of offering. This whole experience was obviously spiritual.
It was spiritual to me.
Eventually, we arrived at what everyone was waiting for. The people began to disappear in this temple that was covered mostly by tarped awnings and strung marigolds. The essence of this place was magically and exuded color and warmth. There were the politest of beggers outside that would limp to the side to allow me through. Graham and I only spent a few minutes here because we, of course, were terribly out of place and sought to offer no disrespect.
We then grabbed an auto-rickshaw to make it halfway around the city and back again before nightfall. Throughout those journeys came more queues to other temples of worship. We even were privy to a celebration and parade in the honor of Ganesha, the god of protection, and one of my favorites.
All in all, a quite successful start to a new year. There are many great things yet to take place this year, so I've been told...

Damage Vs. Deterioration

2008-12-30T08:18:00.000-08:00
I had a procedure today, a slight one done here at Green Park Hospital on the 3rd floor (the green floor). This floor is unique in that it holds a small Operation Theatre as well as a Labor Room; I, of course, veered right towards the Operation Theatre. There I met OP and his gang, along with Dr. Ashish.

The injection today was stuck strategically at the base of my spine so that I could be graciously placed quasi-upside down to let the cells flow in the direction of my brain. This reverse motion is not much unlike the way our own bodies respond to stimuli. The nervous system has a sort of dual function in that an external point will be felt by the sensory nerves at the extremities and be sent from the accessory nerves to the spinal cord and brain. From there, your brain processes that feeling and reacts by sending a reply of electricity (through the motor nerves) downward to that same location to create the appropriate response.

After it was all over, I was placed in room 305 to rest for 4 hours until I could turn to one side and eventually sit up. This room was small, square, and lacked any translucency to the outside world. Because of this, the room was pitch black without the lights on... which turned into a welcomed discovery to both Graham and myself.

Although I am beginning to love my orange room here on the 1st floor, keeping the windows exposed at all times so that I am always aware of the happenings there on Green Park Extension, it can be a little loud and eternally lit up with business signs and car lights. Therefore, making darkness simply a thing of the past.

With all of that said, Graham and I were both out as the lights as soon as we had this such realization.

Throughout all of this time in deep sleep, I also seemed to produce a fair amount of deep thought as well. One thing that has stuck out in my mind a whole lot this trip so far has been the differences in the patients.

It is fairly obvious that people come from all over the world seeking virtually the same thing out of Dr. Shroff-- to get better. But getting better is something entirely different for each of us. I have figured that there are two very distinct problems that people suffer from that end up here: those with physical damage and those with physical deterioration. To some this may sound like one in the same, but alas, they are quite different indeed.

The patient (like me) that ails from damage engulfs these stem cells as a way to attempt to permanently repair attributes in their bodies that cannot be repaired on their own. Any improvement that this patient regains, will hold with them for as long as they hold on to this world. This is very promising, because if you do the math, this patient has much calculation for improvement.

On the other hand, the patient that suffers from deterioration, like the Lyme Disease patients and the patients with MS and ALS will still see improvement, and it seems like sometimes at a much more rapid pace. However, the truth about a disease or malfunction due to deterioration is that the body will continue to breakdown, regardless of the influx of those little cells. So patients in this category must resort to viewing their bodies like vehicles that will only rely on sufficient amounts of gasoline to continue to thrive. These patients' bodies will continue to falter and the cells will only improve their current status.

In my experience here, I have come to know well many such patients and commend them for such courage, strength, and grace of being. Each of these beautiful people could not be more deserving of a life, poolside, with little umbrella drinks and oiled massages. But for some reason, somewhere along the line, life handed them a tsunami that soiled their surroundings and flattened their insides. How is this fair? How is any of it tolerable?

All that I can say is that much respect and heart go out to those who deal with things far beyond my stretch of knowledge, far beyond what is right and just, and far beyond the tepid woes of modern man.

Second Chances

2008-12-29T08:56:00.000-08:00

Now being my second time around here, I feel that I have grown accustomed to many things:
exact timings don't occur exactly as planned
all children don't necessarily want to play
yes, no, and maybe all are recognized visually as the same bobbing head
pain means that it's working
eating curried goodies with dirtied hands simply makes you stronger (except maybe for Graham)
a smile is truly recognized as warmth, nothing more and absolutely nothing less
traffic jams at 2 a.m.
the smell incense and the songs of Ganesha in the morning
elephants on the highway
rainbow colors in the most unlikely of places
welcomed pokes of little stem cells twice a day, like clockwork
And now for the things that I probably should be accustomed to by now, but, shamefully, aren't:
rickshaw drivers with lead feet
babies that don't know how to cry
feeling like I could have tried harder than I did
the weather
the anticipation of things to come (this should be encouraging, and mostly is, yet it is still not something that I can get used to)
literal understanding of bad cliches and poorly sarcastic remarks
knowing that I am successful, no matter what
When I was greeted today with a familiar face of a patient I met only a few 4 short months ago, he remarked, "Wow, I didn't expect to see YOU back here!" Although I am not quite sure what that comment was supposed to invoke in me, it left me with a definite linger of something. If it hadn't, I wouldn't be sitting here 8 hours later fitting it into a blog that had no prior purpose nor appointment.
I suppose that some might say that from my attitude of not necessarily wanting to put full faith into this project and questioning even the most apparent of signs when I started it, that maybe, ya, it is strange for me to dive back in... but what you may not know is that I am a fighter, a fighter that is true to her soul.
I may outwardly behave as the skeptic, or the stoic, who may not recognize a true miracle when it hits her smack dab in the spinal cord... or better yet, may be confused by one. I think that it comes down to the fear of potential disappointment, or even scarier, potential realization that sometimes it isn't totally up to me.
Yes, it was, in fact, my choice to venture out on this very wobbly and extended limb-- but hey, wouldn't you? There is a far reaching sense of opportunity and fear, and with it comes the equally penetrating sense that I can't control every outcome. And somehow, all of this unease makes a powerful sentiment into my life.
What I do know is that I have to take risks sometimes in attempt to find what I might not have known I had been seeking all along. Again, on the outside, I may not show that I am in search of anything, especially on my own accord... but yet my eyes remain open to the most tumultuous of advances.
So to answer his statement, although realizing that it was not so much a question to be answered: I may have known it all along or I may have feared its return, but either way, I am here (and here NOW) and that should say enough for eternity.

A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

2008-12-28T02:50:00.000-08:00

Being Sunday and all, our only "free day" and a break from Physio and any major happenings, Graham and I had big plans to make it up to Old Delhi today. Old Delhi is a place that I haven't yet ventured, full of even more crowds and culture and everything so delightful to me. We were going to discover the Red Fort, one of Delhi's oldest and LARGEST tourist attractions. It used to be a palace during the times of the Moghuls and now is a site that surrounds the hustle and bustle of everyday modern Indian life.

The problem, however, was that Graham's stomach is apparently not as strong as mine. HA! Actually, I feel rather empathetic towards his digestive tract. I will spare you the details, except for saying that the only venturing out he has done today is to that porceline Krishna that I've grown to love as a shower bench.

We've traded positions for today: I am the caregiver and he is the patient (and a whiny and sleepy one at that).

Anyways, this unplanned for time in our room has given me the chance to put together a bit of a scrappy video of some of the events that played out yesterday. I wanted to make a video because words cannot ever describe all of the magic and spirit that carried through the air yesterday. I hope you enjoy!

A Very Delhi Christmas

2008-12-25T18:01:00.000-08:00
I invite you all to experience my Christmas in Delhi. It was an extremely colorful one filled with laughs and good cheer, boxed up Italian take-out, and new friends here over at the Green Park Hospital.

They decorated, complete, with a life-sized version of Santa Claus, a stellar faux pine dressed to the max, a cow of many colors trotting down the street, tulle of shimmery pink and purple hung from the ceiling, and balloons that just so happened to remind us that Indians can celebrate Christmas as good (if not better) than the rest of us.

It was good to spend Christmas with my friends here in Delhi, although I miss my time at home as well. A few of the patients and us talked well into the night, comparing our past Christmasses and families together. All in all, a very nice job well done for the quite unorthodox holiday in this far-off land.

Opened Doors

2008-12-24T01:11:00.000-08:00

I knew things were going to be different this trip, but I had no way of anticipating the difference in the procedures as well. The procedure that I had yesterday was an epidural injection, which I endured for the first time in the summer. From what I could remember, it was a painless procedure that left no lasting remarks other than lying flat under lopsided bricks for 5 hours.
This same procedure that I had yesterday came as quite a surprise to me. Same protocol: small room, even smaller bathroom, change to hospital gown, insert IV cannula (twice for good measure), carry me onto the gurney, wheel down to the Operation Theatre, and greet a smiling Dr. Ashish. Same thing, different date... or so I thought.
As Dr. Ashish began poking my vertebrae to find the perfect space and landmarks for the injection, I noticed one slight change-- I could feel where he was prodding around! Immediately everyone sensed my nervousness, heightened by the incessant beeping of the heart-rate monitor... so a few numbing injections were set in place. Dr. Ashish soothed me by telling me that he checked his notes from last time and was trying a little bit of a different approach, that he felt would give me the most optimum of benefits. My nerves subsided, emotionally that is.
From there, he began to inject the cells towards the right side of my spine from what I could tell. Surprisingly, a shear sense of pain and impulse was sent directly towards the base of my lungs and near my heart. I felt like I had the most horrendous side cramp and heartburn all in the same instance. My body writhed on its own, a poor attempt at trying to get away from the beautiful foreign matter spewing into my back. I talked myself into trying to calm down. I wanted to invite these cells in, and not be rigid and scared. I wanted to greet them at the front door with open arms and an all-American apple pie.
It was so terribly hard.
The pains were increasing and I could feel the injections coming into my spine, now on the left side. Immediately a scorching amount of heat shot up my spine, into my neck. Pressure filled my head. There was a lot of worrying taking place in my head at this point, for that is how I remembered the last procedure that I had in the summer (which put me flat out for almost a week).
As all of this was happening, I relayed every part of it to Dr. Ashish and his crew, to the point of telling them repeatedly that my back was going to explode. In a calm manner, Dr. Ashish simply replied, "Can you tolerate it?" Of course I could tolerate it. I could tolerate anything!
Once it was over, I realized that my whole body was sweating and Dr. Ashish confessed that his was too. What a powerful moment. It only took a few minutes for the pressure and tightness throughout my body to leave and for my optimism to return. This was a good one! We all decided.
Dr. Ashish patted me on the head and told me that I did a terrific job. It feels good to make him proud.
From there I spent the next 5 hours in bed. Graham did a great job of keeping me busy with some bad jokes, passages about far-away lands, makeshift wall-ball games, airplanes down the hatchet, and the Discovery Channel. All in a day's work for him, I suppose.
Today I feel rejuvenated and ready to go. The only small reminder from the pain of yesterday is isolated into one small injection site on my back. This is the door to many things to come, hopefully.

A Brief Update

2008-12-22T21:01:00.000-08:00

I seem to be almost getting back into the swing of things, gaining my barrings, getting my sea legs back.... I have physio at 9am and 2pm.
During the 9 o'clock session I do normal mat stretches and exercises reminiscent of the ones I did in the summertime. Chavi thinks that I can flex my right hamstring and left inner thigh... but I am yet to be so convinced. I suppose that Graham thinks so too--he taped it for you all, so you would decide for yourself. He is becoming quite the camera man, hopefully to all of your likings (minus the sideways video shots). In addition to the normal stretches, Chavi has me get on the floor on a mat to do some yoga poses on all fours, along with crawling and kneeling.

At 2pm I come back down refreshed after an inventive veg-lunch, ready to walk. Yesterday I walked more than I ever had in my calipers. Four times down and back with some backwards walking and side-stepping mixed in. I was extremely wobbly and sore afterwards, but at least it is a start. Today's walking session was much better--I walked this morning because I have my first procedure in about 20 minutes.

Graham and I will be hopping in a taxi shortly to head over to Gautam Nagar Hospital to join Dr. Ashish in my first procedure. From what I remember, it is a short procedure of only lying flat for 5 hours while they prime my spinal cord for the rest of my stay here in Delhi. We are in the middle of packing up our books, music, and pillows to prepare for the long day ahead.
On a side note... Dr. Ashish and Dr. Sudeep have joined forces in finding me a swimming pool, since it is far too COLD for outdoor pools to be open this time of year (you've got to be kidding me!). Anyways, I appreciate their compassion for my addiction and hopefully we will all be successful in finding me an indoor oasis for this month's stay.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and it feels like all of the patients are getting ready for their departure home. The staff here is very good at dressing this place up like a winter wonderland and I am extremely excited to spend Christmas Day with all of my friends here. There is also a huge party scheduled for the 27th where all of the staff are to perform for us... which I am dying to see! I love this place.

2008-12-20T22:19:00.000-08:00
One of the greatest things about New Delhi is the fact that you can jump in an auto-rickshaw and literally go market to market to find all of your necessary goods... though it is never quite done on time nor without some great life lesson and ridiculous adventure.

In just two days, Graham and I have already traveled from Palika Bazaar to Connaught Place to Janpath Market to Visant Vihar to Sarojini Nagar Market and to India Gate. We are busy kiddos. One of the most interesting aspects of it all is how I am so admittedly stared at. Personally, I'd like to consider it due to my overflowing charm and emanating beauty, but really I believe it has more to do with my fair skin and accompanied wheels.

It is almost like we are celebrities, getting our photos taken conspicuously by shiny cell phones and shaking hands with groups of young men as they watch us in the most mundane of activities.

Getting around New Delhi isn't much of a feat for me, namely because I pay little mind to those who stare and employ the rest for help up sharp curbs and over swiss cheese-like sidewalks.
That is the thing I love about Indians, they are so willing to help out and ask for nothing in return... unless they are a beggar, but even then they will help you in an instance, free of charge. The people here simply just want to know about you and know you. They are caring people with amazing hearts and souls that flow so much like the surrounding humid air. This place will never cease to thrill me or capture a piece of me either.