No more tears

The Pacific Crest Trail first became known to me four years ago when my colleague Amy's husband was preparing for his summer-long hike. I remember a few startling details: his legs grew as sturdy as tree trunks, all the hikers end up with a trail name, and boxes were sent to specific destinations to help him refuel during his Mexico to Canada via foot voyage. It truly seems other-worldy, especially since one emerges renamed. Cheryl Strayed's book Wild brought me into this other world of the PCT and held me captivated from the moment she struggled inside her hotel room to simply lift her pack off the floor and failed to her final destination atop the Bridge of the Gods. Along the journey she notices that she hasn't cried at all on her trip: not when she tore the radiator pipe from the wall of the hotel room in order to hoist her and her backpack to a vertical position, not when she lost her boot, ran out of water, almost walked across a rattlesnake, or had two cents to her name. She declared to herself that with all that turmoil behind her and not a single tear shed, she certainly wasn't going to let herself cry the day she and her hiking pals could not find the Rainbow Party with their groovy music and free food celebration. She reinforced her resolve and bolstered herself saying it would not break her. And it didn't. While sitting in a ridiculously tedious meeting on a new yet oh-so-not improved computerized gradebook training, a colleague of mine had the same sentiments. She just declared this cockamamy program would not break her. The two women in drastically different worlds arrived at the same conclusion: this thing outside myself will not conquer me; I will chose what, if anything, will bring me out of myself, bring me to tears, bring me to my knees. Consider, one woman in the wilderness creating daily life from dehydrated packets of nutrients and a shelter from a taught piece of treated nylon while another woman creates her livelihood in the computer-will-solve-the-world's-problems in the two steps forward three steps back world of education, yet both are resolved not to let something insignificant make them crumble. When I was a little girl, I would sit on the bathroom counter, legs dangling, hair wet from a long bath while my mom coaxed a comb through a blonde tangle of knots. I held a bottle of "No More Tears," studying the pudgy long-haired girl on the front with silky smooth hair. My hair politely and obediently slid through the tines of the comb. I didn't scream when the comb moved through treated "No More Tears" hair. The invisible coating worked its magic, there were no tears. Maybe that is what these women possess internally. Some inner spray of No More Tears that has created a barrier to the threats, big or small, of the world. What is it that I will let bring me to tears? Tangled hair, sometimes. Education initiatives unworthy of a breath, kinda. Lack of food and shelter, most definitely. But maybe, just maybe, these troublesome irritants don't have to. Maybe I have the strength to decide what can change me. Today is a new day and I am sure I'll be handed plenty of opportunities to see if I have that invisible strength that will decide what will protect me from the wayward winds of the world. I just wish it were as easy as coating myself with a little spray, maybe it is. I'll see.

Cheering

I wedged my boot into the ridge of the hill and secured my cheering location. From my vantage point I could see the Nordic racers careening down the hill opposite me and then watch them climb and climb (and climb) right next to me. The woods lined the hill behind me providing good protection from the winter wind. I was in position to encourage our team up the hill with my positive, upbeat spirit. After all, I was standing and watching, and they were doing all the painful exertion!

It's easy to know how to cheer for some: go, good job, keep going, tempo, etc. And cheer I did. But as I stood waiting for skiers to appear and as I heard myself yelling, I started to wonder about what I was doing. Should I cheer for the racers flying down the hill or would it make them lose concentration? Should I cheer for the "other teams"? When someone falls, do I yell or stay quiet so they can concentrate on getting up? And then what about guy at the top of the hill vehemently yelling for the young girl to "get moving" when it is pretty obvious her pace will not increase if a bear wanted her for dinner. Should I cheer for him not to be cheering at all?

It is a funny concept, I think. Cheering. We cheer to win which means the silent cheer is for the other team to lose. We cheer to encourage yet sometimes it sounds like berating barrage of anger. We cheer to let the athlete know she is not alone.

What if we cheered for people all the time and not just the athlete trying to ski up a hill? If we really believe that cheering is an act of helping another person accomplish a goal, then we should be much louder in our daily lives. "Hey, great job managing your three small children and that huge cart of groceries through the piles of snow in the parking lot! You can make it! You can make it too once you get home, have to unload it all, and feed those hungry children. Great job. Keep going. Don't look back!"

Maybe it would be a bit obnoxious. Maybe a bit overdone. But I just wonder about all the energy we put into helping an athlete and if it is true that cheering helps, then what might happen to our stressed out, overburdened, financially strained society if we let one another know that we just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and soon we'll be up that difficult climb? I just might give it a try. You?

match maker make me a match

The play "Fiddler on the Roof" centers around the Matchmaker. Hard to imagine giving one person the power to control with whom you will spend the rest of your life. It is true in many other cultures, but so foreign in our American culture. Maybe that is one reason we struggle with correlatives. Correlatives are the matchmakers. Their job is to indicate which words or ideas have a mutual relationship. If you love two things and what to express the mutual love for each, correlatives will show the love. The key is to make sure the correlative is NEXT to the idea being created to be in that relationship.
We'll start with the correlative set: not only, but also. Remember the key, put them next to the idea they are relating.

I love not only skiing but also running.

The common error is:

I not only love skiing but also running. Now our little matchmaker is relating loving to running. It's not the verb love that needs relating but the gerund skiing.

Another example:
I am in love not only with Justin Beiber and Zach Efron but also Finn from Glee. Note: Guess who I was thinking about when I wrote that sentence?

Common Error:
I am not only in love with JB and Zach but also Finn.

Who does this crazed teeny bopper love? ALL THREE! Put the correlative next to the names she loves without separating the verb from the subject. Remember, correlatives love to matchmake. Help them do their job by placing them next to the ideas they correlate.

Here is a link to a quiz-good luck!
http://www.dailywritingtips.com/a-%E2%80%9Cnot-only-but-also%E2%80%9D-quiz/

I keep forgetting the power of the one

A new game was under the Christmas tree this year-Stratego. Over the last two weeks, my flag has been captured repeatedly. My weakness is clear: I keep forgetting the power of the one. The game is pretty straightforward. Any number higher than the one it challenges wins. An eight kicks a seven off the board, a six any number lower, and so on. Except the one! The one will get taken by a two and above, but it has a particular strength. If you know the number of the opponent's piece, all the one has to do is call the right number, and it wins. It kicks any higher number off the board.

A couple days ago my "one" piece sat in front of my opponent's flag for at least 25 moves. I let it just sit there thinking it was too weak to challenge anything. It was only a one. Finally, I remembered its hidden power. I challenged the flag and won!

I keep thinking about my failure to remember the one. How often in life do I forget the hidden value of prayer? I have the chance to talk with God, the creator of the universe, my Lord, my Savior, the Alpha and the Omega. And then I just forget! Really?

Today I started my day with a prayer. I remembered the power of the One and only Father.

A Windy New Year's Reflection

A 35 mph gale is blowing from the north. The fresh snow is twirling off roofs and across yards. The house argues against the wind with protests of irritable creaks and moans. When all is still, the sound of the wind resembles the roar and crack of the surf against the shore.

I just returned from a 6 mile run in these conditions. Looking out across my backyard, I sense a foreboding that it is almost inhumane to venture out into these winter conditions. Yet, I did.

Being New Year's Day, I can't help but think about the coming adventures and challenges of 2012. I am sure a few of those challenges will seem too arduous or maybe even too painful to endure. I am going to try to remember the nature of the wind-it only blows directly and forcefully in one direction. While the opposite direction is made easier by the power of the wind. What appears as an abysmal challenge, if reversed, could be acknowledged as a source of strength.

So I found something to consider as today dawns a new year: a year of a daughter graduating, of a son becoming a high schooler, of trying new endeavors. Looking into the upcoming months from the narrow and frosted window of January 1st, no hints are seen regarding way the wind of this year is going to blow. There is a possibility of cold, hard gales as well as the softness of a spring breeze. Maybe both. But it won't be continual. If the challenge blows hard, maybe there is a new route. Or maybe there is something else beautiful and uplifting alongside the challenge. After all, the sun was shining on my run today.

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