The Greatest Lessons of my Life (are still being learn't)

There comes a time in every person’s life when something horrible happens, something that shakes up your life so drastically, that it leaves you questioning your very understanding of good and evil, of how and why the world exist, of why you exist. At this moment, you may come to the conclusion that the universe is meaningless, or that its meaning is too great for our feeble, un-godlike minds to understand. Either way, the person has to accept that a satisfactory answer to the question, “WHYYYYYY!?!?!?” is not available.
It is at this crucial point, that a person begins a journey of thought and action to give meaning to his or her own life, despite the fact that shit happens, and ain’t nothing you can do about it. There are many strategies. Some achieve peace and meaning through spirituality, and I know others have chosen to try to live each day as if it were their last, without regret. In my moment, (I was in high school at the time) I chose the latter.

In Zorba the Greek, the character Zorba chose to live each day as if it were his last, also. I’m going to include one part of the story here:

"Look, one day I had gone to a little village. An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. 'What, grandad!' I exclaimed. 'Planting an almond tree?' And he, bent as he was, turned around and said: 'My son, I carry on as if I should never die.' I replied: 'And I carry on as if I was going to die any minute.' Which of us was right, boss?"

Living each day as if it were your last gives you permission to do a lot of things that have negative effects in the long term. For instance, if there’s a chance I could die tomorrow, I’m going to eat this entire can of bean dip with my fingers, I’m not going to class, and I think I might challenge someone to a knife fight and see if I can win. Etcetera, etcetera. I doubt I am the only one who has ever thought this way. And I’d bet that I’m not the only one who found herself living longer than expected, suffering the consequences of her choices, and finally asking herself, “What now?”

Well, now it’s time to plant some trees I suppose. It wasn’t as clear to me as it is now what my new path would be. I just knew that I was going to be less destructive… This idea is actually what brought about the title of this blog. My bro once wrote me a letter when I was still in high school that mentioned something about how I have a wildfire inside. While I am fairly sure he was referencing the intense mother-daughter fights I used to regale the family with, I felt it was an accurate description of my “insides,” so to speak. I felt very intensely that… I felt very intensely. My passion was misdirected and much like a wildfire, I caused havoc throughout the Californian West Coast. So I decided, hey—let’s keep the passion, just express it in a different way. Wildflowers. Yeah.

So at this point, I “followed my heart” to Thailand, then Alaska, and I took some chances. And who would have guessed, the meaningless universe threw me a bone. By being my goofy self I can do a lot of good things, make positive impressions on the lives of others. While I’m not prepared to write about it all just yet, I know things are happening. Far from figuring this all out, I do feel more confident that at the very least, my feet have tread the trailhead.

And by the way, I have never been in a knife fight.

Because many wonderful things have happened in my life besides that last post, and I didn't want to leave with a sad note, I thought I would write a second blog today and list some of the reasons my life is awesome.

1. I got a new key chain.

Yesterday at the end of the day, one of my veterans came into my office with a tote bag. He offered it up and inside was a green key chain and a little painted canvas. He wrote me a letter to say thanks "for talking to him." This guy was one of my "special" vets, who for one reason or another I felt especially attached to. I suppose part of it was that I know so assuredly that he is going to be okay, and that it's due to his own struggle to be a good man. He also has been going through a very difficult medical treatment that nearly killed him, and often times was barely able to get out of bed. Yet he would come in to work as often as possible, sometimes having to leave in the middle of the day and go to the hospital to recieve blood, he was so bad off. He would come into my office and I'd ask him about his meds, how he was doing, that sort of thing. I told him about my Dad and how he recovered from a very difficult treatment as well. I think we helped each other out. Anyways, I did my best not to get teary eyed with the gift. The end of his letter said, "I hope that someday, someone can do for you what you did for me." It meant a lot.

2. I made a new friend.

And she's awesome! This girl is making my last month here such a grand finale, and I'm having a harder time leaving as a result. It's nice to have a gal pal to talk to who I feel genuinely comfortable with.

3. I am making a positive lifestyle change...

...that has led to the loss of eight pounds!!

4. We are officially gaining sunlight in Alaska!

5. It's always sunny in Los Angeles!

6. I have AJ for one more month of love, love, love.

7. In one more month I can see my parents and bro again.

8. I own ice skates.

9. Tomorrow night is the board game/knee hockey tournament.

10. Tutto è veramente bello!

A Damn Shame

I wrote this note yesterday when I was at work. Every time one of my guys or girls relapses it does hurt a bit. So I write something down about it and then I let it go. Here's one from yesterday.

Today should have been one of the worst days of Mr. Veteran’s life. He had been discovered drinking the day before he was supposed to leave for his daughter’s wedding.

For a moment when I walked in to the room to get my morning coffee I felt that perhaps this would be a day of reckoning for him. His eyes were bloodshot and teary, and he expressed worry about what would happen next. A month before I had taken him, myself, to a homeless shelter to sit and listen to a reading of names of those who were living on the streets, who had died in the past year. He was obviously uncomfortable. He had never been on the streets, but said to me that he’d used up the last of his resources. If he failed this time he would end up here with the drunks who came up to me, one moment in tears, the next in a jovial mood to tell me how many fights they’d been in. He also told me that if he were ever on the streets, he would surely die. He would surely end it, himself.

Later on when he seemed fine, and got permission from his poor daughter whose wedding he will surely ruin to come visit anyways, I realized that this, his seventh relapse, would be erased from his consciousness like all the other important moments when he should have learned some kind of lesson from his pain. He’s going to depend on his daughter to house him and she won’t have the strength to say no, or otherwise he’ll be on the streets.

This week is a record breaking cold week in Anchorage. For the past seven days it hasn’t reached above zero temperatures.

That last entry came right before the onset of the flu. I was out of commission for awhile, and I guess I lost my momentum with the blog writing. But I have no excuse now-- I'm feeling better, the holidays have passed, and I am in Anchorage, spending my last few weeks of work tying up loose ends and applying for jobs online. In 2009, I will either begin to work as a Regional Recruiter for the Peace Corps, a Park Ranger in the Santa Monica Mountains, or perhaps a Special Events Assistant for the Museum of Latin American Art in Long Beach. Of course there is also the possibility that I will be unemployed for awhile and end up working at a Sizzler and living at my Mom's house. But for now I have high hopes that I will be hired on someplace where I can feel proud of myself.



Flying home for the break was a surreal experience. My flight left around 2:30 am. I popped two Tylenol PM after having a beer or two and tried without success to keep my eyes open until the plane took off. I woke up once when the stewardess was offering drinks and ordered a cup of tea. The woman in the seat next to me offered to pay for it since I was struggling to find my wallet. Later on I would repay her with a consecrated stick of gum. I fell asleep again and awoke when I reached my stop-over in Las Vegas. Out the window, the hills in the surrounding desert looked like topographical maps-- layers of dirt formed circular mounds with flat tops, piled one on top of the other. THe plane landed and the sun filtered in through the window. I closed my eyes and the light made the backs of my eyelids red. At that moment I remembered what it was like to soak up warmth from the sun, and also how much I missed it's bright existence in my life. I thought to myself, "this is the feeling of pure love."



It was an appropriate beginning to the week I spent with my family and catching up with friends. Returning home is like returning to myself again. I will be going back to los angeles very soon once my term here is up, and feel equal parts excitement to be with my parents and brother in los angeles's warm embrace, and reluctance to leave the person I love here in Anchorage, the first job that ever meant more to me than myself, the vets, the high peaks of white mountains and massive chunks of ice floating in a black ocean. Dramatic, eh?



And just for fun, look at this weird dog...