Guess Who's Coming to Dinner...

My answer to the question of who in history, dead or alive, would you invite to dinner, has always been Dr. Martin Luther King. Up until last year, history books had taught me all I knew about the man who'd led the Civil Right's Movement and gave arguably the greatest speech of all time. Although words on a page provided a link I might not otherwise have had, nothing compared to standing in the exact place Martin Luther King Jr. stood when he spoke the words "I have a dream."

At the MLK National Historic Museum in Atlanta, I read a journal entry he wrote close to the time he died and it had a profound impact on me. His words expressed extreme fear and uncertainty as to what lay ahead, and questioned whether to give up. In the same entry he acknowledges he was no longer a man but a leader of a people who desperately needed hope and a voice when they had none. 

Today being Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday I wanted to thank him for his courage to stand up and speak his truth, "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." 

    

  

Albert & Me...

"Do something wonderful, people may imitate it."
Albert Schweitzer 1/14/1875-9/4/1965 Alsatian/German physician

Me on my birthday last year, somewhere in Texas (2013)

Since it's Albert Schweitzer birthday and my own, I'd like to share, if it's OK with Albert, a few things that make me unique. I wash my hands 5 out of 11 times after using the restroom. I love Obamacare and how it focuses on preventative care. I don't care about politics. I love receiving mail. I had a huge cancerous tumor in my neck, in my dreams last night. I don't have a cable TV subscription. My Christmas decorations have yet to be taken down. I like to pee outdoors rather than indoors. Campfires and the stars hypnotize me. I love to play devil's advocate. I hate confrontation. I love learning something new. My biggest fear is death, not of others death, but my own. I wish could write for a living. I am most fearful of being vulnerable and exposed.

Thanks for being a part of this wonderful journey we call life. Enjoy the rest of MY and Albert Scheitzer's night. Tomorrow my goal is to write a tribute to Martin Luther King Jr. I hope I do him proud.

To my friend Hilary on her housewarming, birthday and wedding day...

Cherokee Princess Noccalula Gadsen, Alabama (2012)
Noccalula was to be married to a man from a neighboring tribe
to build peace, but she was in love with a man from her tribe.
On her wedding day she jumped to her death.

At the the end of the day or the beginning in my case, it is important to reflect on what truly matters. If you were forced to pick one or two things, leaving everything else behind, what would they be?

I start with this question because in writing my maid of honor speech I more clearly understand what truly matters.

My best friend is getting married today. I didn't know of her plans to wed until last week but her text message made it clear, "I need you to make a speech. Maid of honor shit."  I'm looking forward to this wedding simply because it's unlike anything I've ever been to before. Why is it unlike anything I've ever been to before? Because it's a surprise. The guests believe they are attending a housewarming party, which it is, but a wedding at its core.

As for my job of explaining over 10 years of friendship in only a few words is quite a task. My first memory of her was in a public speaking course we shared, specifically when we were paired up, interviewed one another then presented each other to the class. Nervous as I was to present, Hilary's life story interested me. I remember learning about her eight month stay in Australia, her exciting adventures there and how spirited she became telling the tales. I felt inspired by her. Up until meeting Hilary, it had been difficult for me to get close to people, especially women. But Hilary was different. She was who she was - independent, intelligent and uncompromising on her goals, which I admired. As we grew closer, I gained an even deeper awareness of who she really was, a humanitarian. Her compassion oozed through her in her volunteer work, fundraising, coordinating any and every kind of charity event.

Family in the Woods

My most memorable experience of Hilary happened shortly after we graduated college. I planned on going to Costa Rica for a month with a guy friend, who at the last moment canceled. Heart broken, I watched as this trip, a once in a lifetime experience, slipped through my fingertips. Hilary, upon hearing the news, made a life changing experience that still amazes me. She charged her credit card and came with me, simple as that, because that's who she is. Her resilient and selfless nature allows her to reach outside herself and give wholeheartedly. What a beautiful person to call friend. Her love for her family brings her to tears, something we all can take a lesson from. May Hilary's love teach us a lesson about what truly matters.  

Fasting and the Beast...

First, a shout out to my sister-in-law Melinda. Thank you for your support and inspiring me to keep going. This post is a piggyback on yesterday's topic of commitment. I want to provide some background and answer the question "why the hell should I listen to her, anyway?" Well, here's why.

Notice the jug of water?

It was into the third week of my solo cross country road trip when I landed at Cave Run Lake Campground in Kentucky. Three days earlier I made a goal to fast for ten days, journaling the process, in order to gain awareness into my inner self. Here's that days journal entry: "I ended up in Ashland, Minnesota, watching lightning on the top of a look out view over Lake Superior. When I awoke, I got an oil change and had decided the evening before to start fasting. A most inspirational and emotionally moving phone conversation with a friend solidified my desire to take another conscious step. After receiving all the food from Brita, the woman in Cokato, Minneosta, I felt overwhelmed and although extremely grateful, it was not upholding my need for increasing consciousness. Having fasted for four days before, I know the benefits fasting holds. No food equals the stomach throwing a tantrum and the mind responding. Without investigating the relationship we trust the two are speaking honestly and with integrity. False. The times my stomach is most "angry" is when I'm the most distracted or caught up thinking "in my head." As I come to the moment, bring awareness to the environment around me, I know I'm ok. I know my body is capable, not only capable but desires to be taken care of. Each time I think thoughts about food, how great it is, and how one McDonald's french fry won't hurt, I realize it's just the mind playing tricks on me and I vividly am aware how easy it is to forgo values and goals and promises to the self. Without strengthening the control we have over our mind, we are susceptible to its demands. I know I will survive without food but my mind is screaming the opposite. I hope I win."

The BEAST!

I did win. I made it to the ten day mark, feeling empowered and aware of my thoughts. I found control over the "beast" within. Here's some facts about "the beast." He is selfish and always, always wants more. He cannot differentiate between wants and needs which means he NEEDS everything. He needs ice cream, the latest iPad, a cheeseburger, a newer car, a bigger house, more gadgets, friends and of course, money. He doesn't care about health or happiness because he doesn't feel emotions. You, believing what he says is the truth, give into his every desire, hoping doing so will bring you peace, but it doesn't.

Crap, I'm going to be late for work! Pardon me for now. See you tomorrow. Happy Friday!

Failure IS NOT an Option...

Power plant outside Page, Arizona (2012)

I ran across a woman's website where she attempted to do 365 days of blogging.  I say attempted  because upon clicking through the days of the month, everything after May 6th was nothingness.  Nothingness like "the nothing" in The Neverending Story. Scary. That being said, what happened? Did she die? Wait. No, not dead. I found her on another website but instead of blogging she's "obsessed with Instagram" and switched to photography. Not so committed to our original challenge, are we lady? Oh well, her life, her decisions.
Her story made me think about commitments. More specifically, the commitments we make with ourselves and the factors that lead us to failure. One such failure factor is the mind's belief in whatever you tell it. We make promises to ourselves all day every day about how who we plan to be in the future. The tomorrow "you" will show up on time, be a better friend, eat less, work out more, and be smarter with money. However, the today "you", the one that actually exists, isn't in the mood, doesn't know how, blames the other guy, and makes excuses.

Zen yoga beetle, Zion National Park, Utah (2013)

The person we are today is who we are. Whereas the person we want to be is an illusion. Knowing those facts, how can we find success without the illusion?  First off, stop making promises to yourself. The mind, being the tricky beast it is, will do anything it can to get what it wants. By not making promises the mind no longer rules, you do. You, without promises, are free to choose moment to moment what to do.
I am challenging you to be aware of your thoughts today. Listen to the radio station playing within. When you hear "I'll get to it later", stop. Quiet the mind. Then ask yourself "what do I want to do now?" Practice this today, as will I, and we'll reconvene tomorrow. Therapy session adjourned. Oh, if you want some comedy relief watch the video below, it's how I believe therapy should be!

Racism and Poker...

First things first, a tidbit of useless information. The Seattle International airport, only 2.5

Breakfast of Champions

miles from my house, offers a wake up call at 5:30am which is a boisterous rumble that occurs when the first plane takes off.  I usually hit snooze and fall back to sleep, but this morning I got up. A couple of the neighborhood raccoon's happened to stroll by the front porch just as I walked past the living room window, so I grabbed my camera and a handful of cat food. 

This morning I would like to share the interesting going on's of working in a casino. Having dealt poker for over 9 years, I've seen it all from bottles broken over people's heads to individuals drunk enough to vomit on themselves. Although, at times, not the most glamorous job, the players make it worth it. Seeing the same faces day in and and day out make for a Cheers-like environment. One where, sing it with me, "everybody knows your name" dah dah dah dah dah dah dah. It's a dysfunctional family, for sure, but a family just the same. Many times there will be nine people seated around the poker table before me and not one is the same race - Cambodian, Vietnamese, Russian, Mexican, French, Laotian, Chinese, Korean, and Caucasian - just to name a few. Caucasian's are a minority in this Asian dominated casino, making my nickname, along with a few Caucasian waitresses  "white girl." You may think with all the cultural differences, conflicts stemming from dissimilar beliefs and lifestyles occur frequently, however I've only seen a couple instances, and even during those times, the rest of the players banded together against the prejudiced individual. 

I waize!

Here's a snapshot and a glimpse of what life in a poker family is like: An older alcoholic white lady, who talks like a baby, wants to "waize" (raise) the amount of the bet. The Vietnamese man next to her, dressed up like an army general on an African safari, is upset because she won't shut up and quit calling him "buttacup," all the while looking at me to stop her from talking, which I can't. The Cambodian man to my left is poking me in the side with his finger in a not-so-soft manner in order to let me know his cards would have won and that it is my fault he folded. The other Vietnamese man, two seats to his left, is calling the Russian on the table "mastah" (master) because the Russian is such a good player and that he, the Vietnamese man, is only a "risky," which doesn't make any sense. Soon after, I figure out he meant rookie and not "risky."  At this point, the white baby talking lady and the Vietnamese man are hugging. It will go on like this all night. But, alas, my shift is over and it's time to go home and prepare to do it all over again the next day.  The moral of today's story? When a happily dysfunctional family are betting large sums of cash, there's no room for racism.