transformation

What is transformation? I was talking to a colleague about this today - whether something like going abroad or a huge accomplishment like summiting a mountain 6000 metres high would radically change a person's values, behaviour, or perspective on life. Or do people, upon returning, slip back into old and familiar routines, and it was as if the person had never gone?

I learned about liminality today - the state of being neither here nor there.

I experienced this 6 years ago when I went backpacking for a month in Japan by myself. Those 4 weeks were both terrifying and exhilarating - not knowing the language, navigating different transportation systems, going to great lengths to attend not one but two concerts put on by obscure Japanese boyband, making friends at hostels, and marvelling at the beauty and complexity of the country. When I came back I felt like I was a completely different person. I was finally okay with being alone. I had a newfound sense of independence and control and self-efficacy. I had seen something in myself when I was there that I had never seen before.

Coming back was a jarring experience. I felt like shaking all of my friends and family by the shoulders. How could they have stayed the same when I had changed so much? Perhaps that was what this liminal state is. Neither here nor there - neither in Japan where I was person I could be proud of being, nor at home where I no longer fit in. It took me a while, but I adjusted.

Should I have stayed in that in between state? Maybe I should have continued to travel, or done something else other than graduate school, or whatever. Or maybe I didn't need to travel for that change to happen. Maybe, as my friend said, I was maturing and ready or on the cusp of change already, and going to Japan just made it easier.

I think I still believe in transformative experiences. Regardless if they take you down a different path or on the surface it seems like nothing has changed. All I know is that I'm grateful I've taken all those steps to where I am today.

endings

{Maybe, if you're with a group of friends who'll never be together again, all your lights will shine at the same time and you'll know, and then you can hold each other and whisper, "This was so good. Oh my God, this was so good."}

I read this today.

I've been so preoccupied with uncertainty surrounding job prospects and my increasing cynicism of academia that I completely forgot that my graduate school career will (hopefully) be ending in several months. This is it!

I love being a grad student, and I have never once regretted spending the past 5 years in a warm, supportive, collaborative, and intellectually stimulating environment. I still can't believe that I get paid to think, write, and design my own experiments!

What's most important to me though, is the friends I've made while I was here, and the experiences I got to have: commiserating with fellow grad students about failed experiments over wine, dance parties and murder mysteries, travelling to warm places each winter for conferences, road trips, mentoring students, finding my passion for teaching, meeting my partner, training in the martial arts. I am so thankful that I decided to invest this part of my life here.

What I'm not prepared for though, is change. Again. I had the same feelings of anxiety when I started university and then grad school, and I have to do it again - move on to something new. All my grad school friends are moving away to new jobs, and I don't want to get left behind. But part of me is scared as hell, and sad that this part of my life is ending. It feels bittersweet because I am ready to leave, but I want to hold on to these experiences for as long as I can.

I will have to appreciate my last few months here in spite of all the nail-biting and complaining and tearing out of hair that will undoubtedly happen during dissertation writing and defense-preparation.

This was so good.

45 degree turns

He sings about acceptance as his sister paints loud strokes and light on a screen. Two lights burn  brightly on each wire hanging from the ceiling, then three or four at a time, each one bopping ever so slightly, making little dancing shadows on the floor. The tablecloth on the bench sparkles from the light, they tell me stories of everything she's painted before and the time before that. People are smiling and drunk in these stories, and she fills in all the spaces in the web, they're the in-betweens between notes and half breaths and side step shuffle shuffle,  life lines in red, not green, squiggles and dips and peaks and p200 event related potentials when does perception begin and end and start again and she blows a steady stream of smoke through her lips to finish the effect. She shows people in the crowd the hidden lines underneath the black light in the painting, but they need translators to understand what she's saying. A couple dances on and on. And at the end you can reach your hand through the canvas and turn the knob around and around but instead of clicking sounds you hear clothes shuffling and cigarettes embers lightly bouncing on the ground and bare feet clutching the concrete, shivering from the wind chill. They loved each other in each of these stories, and that's all that matters.

waiting

My grandfather has taken to sleeping with his lamp on and his bedroom door ajar.

He sat down with me a few weeks ago and we watched old home videos of my sister's 10th birthday party and of my uncle's wedding. We were all so young then. My sister and I wore ridiculous pink fluffy dresses and pranced about the restaurant as our uncle teased us. My grandfather had more hair back then. My aunt was visibly pregnant with my cousin.  And you can see my grandmother in snippets--laughing in the background, walking around greeting people, fixing her hair.

I think my grandfather does it because he thinks he'll be able to see her again. That maybe she'll walk in one night to go to sleep after watching television. Who am I to judge him though, maybe he's right. Maybe she's watching over all of us, in her own way.

soulbreak

I read this today. I miss her a lot.

2013

This year has been about overcoming personal barriers, finding my passions, and finally, accepting uncertainty.

Early this year I lost my grandmother. Nearly everyday I think about her and everything that I could have done for her before she died. Guilt and regret are not pleasant things to live with, but I am trying my best to cope and change the way I live so that somehow I can make up for the things that I didn't do when she was alive. People ask me if my grandfather or my family have "gotten over it" or are "okay", but I don't think people ever really are. I think you live the rest of your life thinking about that person and everything they're missing, and nothing will ever change that. You just have to come to accept it. My family members are not the most open or expressive of people. But what happened with my grandmother brought us closer together.  All of us make more of an effort to spend time with each other now, even when old habits slip. I saw vulnerability, emotion, and resilience in people that I didn't expect to see.

This year I got into conflict with some of my friends who don't have the same values as I do. Many of those fights became quite heated, and it was only until I stepped back that I realized that these were my friends who cared about and respected me and it didn't matter what they did or didn't believe.

I also got my black belt in karate this year. Three years ago if you had told me that I would be competing in tournaments, that I would out-score a person more than double my weight during a sparring match, and that I would be teaching university students karate and women self-defense I wouldn't have believed you. Training in karate has been the best decision I've made so far in my life because it pushed me to do things that I didn't believe that I could do, such as being more comfortable with taking on leadership roles, teaching, and public speaking.

Teaching women self-defense has also inspired me to be a mentor and role model for young women—seeing the women in the course enjoy the course, share their motivation for taking the course, and provide their own insight into the issues of rape and sexual assault was a rewarding experience. As a feminist who has a lifelong passion for issues dealing with gender equality, I am thankful that I can use my martial arts training to reach out to young women.

Karate has also made me realize what my passions are: teaching, and using my skills to educate and reach out to people. This year I taught Psych101, the same introductory psychology course I took during my first year of undergraduate studies. It was extremely stressful and time-consuming to teach a course to 250 students, but I enjoyed every moment of it. It was rewarding to impress students with what psychology has to offer, and to have students tell you that they loved coming to your lectures.

And what do I have to say about the upcoming year?

• I have to learn to accept uncertainty. No matter where my degree takes me (academia, applied research, teaching, etc), I want to take on this uncertainty as a challenge. 
• I am determined to have the martial arts be a central part of my life. I want to continue to train in karate and other martial arts (jujutsu, kung-fu, okinawan kobudo), and to teach other people the art. 
• I want to enjoy the present moment, and ignore the coulda-woulda-shouldas, and the nagging voice in my head that cares more about schedules and organization.
• I plan to run another half marathon, or attempt the full marathon. 
• I want to be kinder to the environment. I have stopped cooking meat at home as a first step!
• I want to love the people around me more fiercely than I ever have before. I want to be less judgemental. I want to take care of them. I want to appreciate their backgrounds and perspectives more. 

And that's it! To another year of doing things that I love and doing things that I'm afraid of doing, remembering to put things into perspective, and appreciating all that I have.

more about me than you

If I had the chance, I would ask you if I had been good to you. I would ask you if you were happy. Had been happy, once. If you got the things you most wanted out of your life, and if not, what were your regrets? Could I have done anything to make things better? Because I would have done them. Should have done them. Should should should should should should should.

These questions no longer matter -- but I'll hold on to them, and try not to make the same mistakes again.

now and then

I had a dream about you last night. You could speak again. You were back to who you were; stubborn and strong, watching all of us grow up. Careful, you told us, and we listened. You could finally understand me, and I told you everything about how I felt, and all the things that I don't regret anymore. Will you be able to listen to me now?

the things you learn

This year was about building confidence, learning to depend on people, and about coping.

I learned to be more confident in my own abilities, and to continue to do things outside my comfort zone (from things like guest lecturing to learning a new martial art). Training in karate in particular has helped immensely. I pushed through what I thought were my own physical limits by training hard and learning new skills that I thought I could never do. I taught my first karate class as a brown belt, which was a terrifying, humbling, but fun experience. Karate started as a new year's resolution to engage in more physical activity (and to be able to kick ass, let's be honest), but over the span of two years it's become an important part of who I am. It has given me confidence that has spilled over into other areas of my life, so when I think about presenting my research or confronting someone it's a lot less scary. Do something everyday that scares you, right? I've also made a lot of new friends, and it's a wonderful feeling to be able to go to the dojo and have a community to train with.

I learned to depend on someone else, and to be able to balance being independent and making space for my partner in my life. I can't imagine my life in any other way now. He makes me really breathe, he helps me believe in myself a little more everyday, and most of all he inspires me to be a better person and to go after my passions and goals. I've learned to really love someone without holding back.

I am learning to grieve. I am learning what intense feelings of regret can feel like, and how it feels to have everyone in your family break down and become more vulnerable people. I am learning about closeness and intimacy. I am learning how to support others. I am learning that people can be wonderful and lovely and incredibly supportive. I am learning how to cope when your world seems to have stopped only for you, but has kept on going for everyone else. I am learning to be a stronger person from this, and to accept what will or will not happen.

What's next? I hope to have the courage and confidence to pursue the things I want: to get my black belt in Karate and to continue to train and learn how to teach, to continue to push my physical limits by training for the half or full marathon, to get through graduate school and eventually find employment, to do things that scare me, to travel, and to learn to live as much as I can in the present. 

I know I won't be able to do all those things without you though - my family, my friends, and my partner. Thank you for being there for me -- whether we're training together, laughing over a funny story, dancing our socks off, getting coffee, or being silly -- and holding my hand for another year. I love you.

no holding back

What do you do when she's in front of you on her knees, holding on to your hands until her knuckles are white?

What do you do when he shows you the part of himself that he hates? The part of himself that he's most proud of?

What do you do when they whisper in your ear their greatest secret?

You claim them. Tear their flesh out. Devour every tendon, bone, and muscle until there's nothing left. And then you can go to sleep, full and satisfied, but lonely as hell.