THE WHO AM I PROJECT? Finding myself through the layers of my own baggage, bullshit and fear
Take 2 – The Foundation
A good foundation Supports who we are inside To build and sustain.
So as I dive in this month I realize I need to set the foundation for what is I am planning over this coming year. Truly it is about intention. What is my intention with writing this book and these blog posts? What is my intention for the year to help fully guide me through month to month?
I will say I have five intentions for the year that I will work to breakdown for myself in doable chunks each month. Every task I do and choice I make must serve these intentions.
Here they are:
• To discover, accept, live and speak my truth
• To know, embrace, nurture and love who I am as I am
• To be vulnerable and compassionate, live openly and fully, and take chances wholeheartedly
• To learn how to truly listen and be present in each moment
• To trust myself, to release control, to just do
I am truly curious how I’ll accomplish this, but I think that is part of the fun; the excavation and the discovery. The minute I make this post, I am allowing myself to work through my ideas and thoughts “openly”, I am “trusting” myself and being “vulnerable”. The interesting thing is that as much as that excites me, it makes me extremely uncomfortable. Pushing through this discomfort however I believe is what will help answer my ultimate question, Who Am I? Which will lead me to my finding my purpose.
Do you have any intentions that you live by? If so what are they and what are the things you do to ensure you stay on point? I’d love to hear.
Underneath the skin
Is a breathing organism
Made of blood and energy
Feeding our minds and our hearts.
We discover ourselves beneath the surface
Beyond the mirror
It is the only truth.
Our gap is in the idea of ourselves.
Our weakness is our assumptions
Of what and who we think we should be.
But beneath the surface
We live freely, breath openly, invite others in
Unafraid of ideas or projections
Unconcerned with fear or failure
A simple truth;
To be shared
To be embraced
It is Life.
On an amazing Saturday in Miniwaska State Park my husband, niece, 12 year old rat terrier Shyann and I went on a quiet yet complex hike up to one of our favorite points, Millbrook Mountain. The trail has some steep inclines and ragged, rooted, rocky paths. I will admit I was exhausted by the time we reached the top, we all were, but it was well worth it.
Along the way we stopped to catch our breath in a hollow. This is one of my most beloved spots in Miniwaska so far. The way the sound of the river softly mumbles as the birds serenade begets a calmness that only nature can induce. The air there is always slightly damp and cool, a retreat from the humidity that besieged us after exiting our air-conditioned Prius. We sat on the moss covered stones, searched for unique rocks (the best and cheapest souvenirs available), laughed and bathed in the muted voices of the trees.
I wandered taking photos as I often do in these woods. This place is my creative muse. I watched as my niece retreated up along the brook alone. She sat on the rocks taking it all in so quiet in her beauty. It warms my heart to see her enjoying this special place, calm; knowing that it soothes her as it does me.
She’s was with us for the week and we had all been looking forward and excited to share this place. On the way we picked blueberries and discussed how different a “real” blueberry tasted in comparison to store bought. There is nothing like plucking the berries of the bushes and wishing we had them at home all year long. There are so many in those woods. We were actually able to continue to moisten our palates with berries on the long hike after drinking all our water.
At the top we sat and watched the eagles glide, mediated and warmed in the sun. The air was so much clearer up there, less humidity and more breezes. We sat for quite a while refueling our energy sources for the trip back. I wish we could do this with her every week; escape into the real world and renew our souls. For now we have this day, these memories of an amazing young lady full of dreams and desires, delectable blueberries, two middle aged hippie wanna be’s and a 12 year pup who now only goes one way…we had to carry her down!
Southie: the protector, the defender and the neighborhood that wasn’t mine
I look out onto the street from my second floor window. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for, but I know it’s different from what I see.
Silver Street is dirty and filled with jagged memories. There are the stairs I sit on longingly waiting for my dad to drive by. I watch the corner with an eagle eye hoping the tough girls don’t come around. The gym where the nasty boys hang out and where Atilla and Finegan (two very large and scary dogs) reign sends shivers through me. I’ve spent more time running into this house and away from the world than living in it. I’ve confronted meanness and aggression too many times, I’ve had to stand up to protect a friend only to bawl my eyes out from fear the minute I’m alone.
Yet I sit here watching – remembering the laughter, the singing, games of kickball, and the old man who comes by every day to give Rags bologna. I think about the flames breaking out from behind painted wood windows during a warehouse fire across the street that fascinated and terrified me. I’m reminded of the many special 4-leggers who have come and gone; my beautiful Vicious who wandered into our lives introducing us to love bites – gentle nibbles of gratitude on the cheek, our handsome Bruno – a stunning tramp of a Shepherd who let us adopt him for a couple of months then moved on, Medford Tom downstairs who’s wild stories of his harrowing life scared the pants off us and his rottie Eric who stole my heart, Buffie my best friend whose belly was my pillow, and Rags – the most well lived dog I’ll ever meet- he knew more of Southie and its secrets than the many humans who live here.
I picture how beautifully Silver St. lives up to its name in a thick snowfall. The light sparkles over the uninterrupted drifts of snow covering the grittiness. There is a quiet sadness in my observations. This place is my foundation. My parents are from here, it’s in my blood. I am so different than this world. I don’t belong and I want nothing more than to leave; to run far and fast from the hardness of it. I am a stranger here and yet, it is a part of me.
People in Their Environments 056 – South Boston 1983 by, Sage Sohier
In my search for an old photo of my hometown, I came across this picture and was immediately awed. I reached out to the photographer to tell her how much the photo moved me and reminded me of my childhood. I asked her if she knew the girls in the photo, she did not. As an artist and photographer myself, I wanted her to know she had captured something visceral for me. In the poem above I mention the “tough” girls. While this isn’t all of them, it is some of them…the actual girls! That is the corner of the street I grew up on, straight down across from that car was my house and the fire I mention was in the warehouse the car is parked in front of. I have personally destroyed a bike and my nose on that very pole these girls are sitting behind.
I want to share how much a simple photo by a stranger can unexpectedly move someone even years after it is taken. I am nostalgic of the location itself, but also by the girls. These girls terrified me as a child. They were hard, mean and often cruel. Looking at them now as an adult knowing so much more about life and considering those around me, I see their pain their longing and their dreams of escape. I see now that their anger was not at me, I just happened to be the easy target.
I love this photo. I wish I could afford it. Its only available through a gallery for quite a hefty fee, so I will simply admire it from afar. I highly suggest looking up the artist. I am grateful to her. This photo allows me to look back at where I came from. To see the pain of my past in a new light, to see and forgive that hardness of life and to remind me of how fortunate I now am.