Triskel Life

During a recent NPR interview, a teacher explained how she could not publicly admit when her students were doing well, for fear the resources she needed would be taken away. Her comments got me thinking about how afraid we all are to say when we’re okay, that we have what we need, or—even more extreme—admit

we’re actually happy, for fear we will lose it.

There are lots of seemingly logical reasons for this:

-Like the teacher, admitting your needs are fulfilled may lead to resources being reappropriated for those “more in need,” be they coworkers, other states, nations or even family members.

-Admitting wellness or success can come off as bragging, or rubbing salt in the wound of others losses. We

wouldn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings, right?

-Crisis begets concern and care from others. When you, your company, your pet or your planet is in trouble, you receive more outreach from others, sometimes in forms of tangibles, like goods or services, other times just in emails or more “How can I help?” phone calls. We all want to feel a little extra love and care.

-Announcing success/happiness/wholeness/wellness tempts fate, and risks bringing an end to whatever is so good. We throw salt over our shoulders and knock on wood for fear that things might change.

What each of these reasons has in common is fear of loss and possibility of future pain (physical or emotional). We are so afraid of losing what we have–health, money, a job, good communication, a great day

–that we ignore and overlook all that is well in our worlds, living in a constant state of worry.

Yes, we could easily get mired down in the stock market woes, fires, heat waves, and Iraq, or we could notice the new bud on the tomato plant, appreciate the ability to get up and speak to people we love every day, and answer the

question “How are you?” with “I am good, I am great, I am well!” If we do not grasp so tightly to the feeling of happiness, we can instead appreciate it and set it free. No end. No beginning. Just free flowing and always available.

I invite you to claim your wellness/success/happiness and not live in fear. Fear is just that, a False

Experience Appearing Real.

(Need help? Try the 10 Simple Surefire Ways to Have the Best Day Ever)

My hubby is a fireman, so talk of fire is a regular occurrence in my house. But recently the discussion has reached an all time high as our fair county has been faced with three serious fires in just as many weeks. As one local reporter put it, any of these fires alone would have been eligible for “Story of the Year” were this even the end of it.

Fire season has only just begun and fires continue to rage, as illustrated by this map dated June 27, 2008. Walking outside my house it reeks of campfire, normally a smell I love, but now a scent that represents destruction. Fortunately, the fires have not yet been at my own back door, but close enough that hubby and I have assessed the most valuable items to grab in an evacuation (dogs, cat, computers, backup drive and wedding photos), tightened down our fireboxes with important documents, and stocked our “get-away” vehicle—our truck—with food and water for us, our animals, bedding, dishes and the basics to get us by for a few days self-contained. We’ve even made plans about where we’ll meet should we be separated at the time of evacuation.

This week, when reports of possible thunder and lightning—weather that caused 300 spot fires last weekend—hit the news, I started my home inventory. The list catalogs everything in our home, what it is, where it’s from, how much it cost and when we bought it, should we need to make an insurance claim on our burned-down home. It’s not done yet (boy do we own a lot of stuff!), but it has served as an interesting barometer of our lives. You see patterns that mark the changes in your life, like the plethora of kitchen appliances from our wedding registry and the furniture from 2005 when we purchased our second house. In making these lists you are struck by both the futility of the “things” that accumulate in our lives, and the special place they hold in our hearts.

We all know we should have these plans and preparations in place anyway, especially living in earthquake country, but sometimes you need a little nudge to make you do it. In this case, the emergency has made me grateful for what I have, and what I don’t need.

How are you prepared for an emergency?

This past birthday I officially moved from my “mid-twenties” to the oh-so-near-thirty “late-twenties.” The passing from one threshold to another moved me to notice how I, and my almost-thirty-years-old peers, differ from the other twenty-somethings. I found some of the changes interesting or funny and began keeping a mental list. Naturally, this is from a woman’s perspective, so I would love to hear what the almost-thirty man notices too. If you have some additions please comment below and share them! I can’t wait to hear how you know you’re almost 30.

How you know you’re almost 30:

-The majority of your friends are married or have sent out their ’save the date’ postcards.

-You look around at your male friends and realize most have gray hair speckling their heads or beards and baldness is no longer just a possibility, but part of their “look.”

-”Are you going to have kids?” “When are you starting a family?” or some other version of “When are you popping one out?” is a weekly, if not daily question you manage.

-You’d much rather watch Grey’s Anatomy on your DVR than go out on Saturday night (you mean get dressed up AND stay up late?!).

-You start to think that silver jewelry looks cheap and choose gold because it looks more sophisticated.

-Body fat starts to stick in very strange new places.

-You walk inside American Eagle Outfitters/Urban Outfitters/Abercrombie+Fitch/Forever 21 and realize you probably shouldn’t be shopping there any more.

-You over hear the most recent hires at work talking and realize that you are now one of the “old guys” with the “outdated ideas.”

-Know that Hershey’s Chocolate or any other kind of milk chocolate is for kids, instead craving the deepest darkest solid chocolate you can find.

-You look at the covers of the magazines at the checkout stand and honestly have no idea who some of the stars on the covers are.

-You don’t feel a day older than 16—just a little bit smarter with more money.

Last Saturday we dropped the velvet curtain on the seventh annual Santa Cruz Film Festival. The nine day Festival included 146 films from 26 countries. Each year this festival blows me away—both in the quality of the films and its global reach. We opened to a full house with One Fast Move and I’m Gone: Jack Kerouac’s Big Sur, an eye-opening documentary on how fame tortured the Roadster Kerouac. Up ’til 2 a.m. on night one, the second day brought the opportunity to enjoy dinner and conversation with the directors Tom Wheelan and Brian LaBelle of The Art of Travel, a fun coming of age/traveling adventure tale starring Chris Masterson (Malcolm in the Middle) and Brooke Burns. There’s nothing more refreshing than meeting humble directors with great films. Their film set the pace for what seemed like a wanderlust theme in ‘08.

As the week carried on Festival attendance proved stronger than all previous years and film goers were blown away by The Listening Project, a film that went around the world asking “What do you think of America?” and Ripple Effect, starring Forest Whittaker and Virginia Madsen.

When closing night finally arrived, I was honored to take one of The Listening Project’s directors, Dominic Howes, out to dinner before he was bestowed the Jury Award for Best Documentary.

It was a long nine days, but it was a blast. Thank you to all who helped fund and support this year’s Fest. Please join me for year eight in 2009!

The final post from our vacation…

There was no explanation in Park City about this Shoe Tree. Any ideas?

After a few days covered in the red sands of beautiful Zion, we decided to venture to Park City, home to the Sundance Film Festival and many of the 2002 Winter Olympic Game events. What we found was a city that could be the dictionary definition of Boom Town, but strangely quiet in its off-off season. The holy land of skiers, Park City appears to have more freshly painted vacation condos and kitschy gift shops than real, local residents. We showed up one week after the main ski area closed for the season, but before the snow has melted away for summer mountain biking. Lucky for us, this meant a very nice hotel room (hot showers and down duvets included) for next to nothing, and our pick of empty restaurants. The real find was Olympic Park, home of the luge, bobsleigh, skeleton and Nordic jumping events for the Salt Lake City games, and now Olympic training center and Museum. The Museum exhibits were ripe with the emotion of the games, from triumphs and defeats to national pride. It was much more than we expected (and free!).

After the proper amount of clean, fun tourism, we turned for our trek back home, driving through gale-force winds from Utah to Nevada, landing at Rye Patch Recreation Area where we hunkered down in our camper out of the winds. But the winds had a surprise for us. They brought clouds that released around 5 inches of snow on us throughout the evening. Despite little insulation from our canvas pop-up, we made it through the night with wool mittens, knit caps and down vests. We awoke to a sparkling white landscape for our last day of vacation. But it is these unexpected surprises that make our journeys so very special and stick in our memory long after vacation ends.