The best kind of guide…

Posted on November 23, 2013 by rangotti

A few years ago, the day after I took my first and only powder skiing lesson and while I was still only a comfortable blue run skier, my friend Matt and I went up to Stevens Pass where, on the first run of the day after a foot of new snow, Matt suggests we go up Seventh Heaven, an ungroomed, black diamond run. Matt, with his usual encouragement says “Robin, you can totally do this, I will stay right beside you the whole time”. We get off the chair at the top, Matt straps his boots into his snowboard and he is gone…I got down that mountain by myself solely for the purpose of wringing his neck when I finally got to the bottom. His response to me, “but you did it, and now you know you can do it again”. I swear I don’t know why I listen to that kid sometimes.

When Matt suggested I come to Nepal, his words were “come to Nepal, I will be your guide. You just get here, I will take care of the rest”. Yeah, I still haven’t learned yet. When I got to Nepal, as typical of the way he “guides” me, he starts off by getting us a bus ride to Pokhara where he asks me, “did you get a hotel room”? Hmmm…. is this part of the “you’ll take care of everything plan?”. Typically, it was like that with everything that happened in the two weeks I was there. The kid had no plan at all… or did he? I joked with him one day and asked exactly what “kind of guide he was” since he pretty left me to figure everything out on my own and to handle all the crises that came up. His answer: “I am the best kind of guide”. I am still trying to figure out whether the boy is a brilliant or just an accidental genius. Either way, once again, it worked.

But it takes coming home to truly realize how far you’ve come. The greatest gift of travel isn’t the adventure, new countries, languages, foods, customs, etc… or all the things that traveling brings. Those are all great but are only part of the real gift of travel. The real gift is returning home, forever changed. I am very proud of where I am at this moment.

So where am I? Physically, I recently returned to my son’s home in North Carolina to spend Thanksgiving (American) with my son and my lovely daughter-in-law and the two most amazing grandchildren ever, Brooklyn and Charlotte.

I have been here less than 48 hours and I am already amazed at how I feel. In the past, when I visited my son, who lives in my former marital home, I was always bombarded with memories and thoughts of how life “should have worked out for me”. I had always expected to be living in this house, happily married to the man I loved, celebrating holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas with our children and grandchildren coming to visit us. I would ride past the university I went to and used to teach for and just be overwhelmed with missing the friends I had, the job I was great at, the life I loved, all of it. I would long for my past life back. I hadn’t realized how much that longing was holding me back until now.

The night I cried to Matt in Nepal, something changed in me. Maybe it was the yoga and meditation or maybe it was the stark conditions of the country and pushing myself through physical difficulty and preserving. Maybe it was the spiritual nature of hiking up to the World Peace Pagoda or up to the top of Sarankot or maybe it was the awe-inspiring site of looking out at the Himalayas which is a sight I will never forget as long as I live. Maybe it happened while I as paragliding with vultures or when I fell off the side of the cliff and was hanging by the vegetation and lost my shoes and had to walk back to my hotel barefoot. Maybe it happened through just overcoming obstacles and crises and realizing that I could face any challenge on my own. Regardless, sometime during that time, something changed.

I knew I felt different when I left Nepal and went to Barcelona, I just didn’t realize how different I was until I came back into the familiar environment in which I spent almost half my life. The familiarity of that world was in stark contrast to the person I have become. Now, I sit in this house and it glows with the energy and vitality of my grandchildren and the love my son and his wife share. I got to meet my ex-husband’s lovely and charming girlfriend and watch them interact with my two beautiful granddaughters who love them dearly. I couldn’t help but feel joy in my heart for all of it, for such a loving and happy family. It is something I never could have imagined over the darkness of the past 6 years.

I look around this place where I used to live. I have appreciated the beautiful changing seasons, the friendliness of the people, the beauty of the campus and know that I hold no attachment to it other than in appreciation of the memories of all the wonderful times I spent here. It was a wonderful place to raise two beautiful, well-adjusted children, and where I had the opportunity for an amazing career teaching high school and the start of my college teaching career. It is a place where I had spectacular friends and experiences, and where I loved and laughed and lived over half of my life.

Life is sweet, all of it, the good and the bad. Because of everything that happened, my beautiful daughter got to finish college, start a great career, and meet her amazing partner Ethan. Everything that happened gave me an opportunity to fall in love with the PNW and all the remarkable treasures that area of the world holds. It gave me the chance to reach down into the most creative part of myself and take risks in my career. It has given me a wealth of new experiences and friends that I never would have otherwise met.

I am more centered, happy, confident, peaceful, and accepting than I have ever been in my whole life. Traveling and returning home has made me that much more aware of how great a gift my life has been.

Namaste

Asking the wrong question…

Posted on November 18, 2013 by rangotti

It kind of sucks when I have been on sabbatical now for five months and just realized I have been searching for answers to the wrong questions.

I keep asking myself who do I want to be? What I have realized is that identity isn’t about my choices, my choices are going to be sometimes good and sometimes not so good, but they don’t define who I am. Identity is about my essence as a human being. That essence isn’t going to change. I am not going to suddenly stop caring about people or stop being the positive, loving, warm, compassionate, reflective, thoughtful person that I am. That is the essence of who I am and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

The other question I have been asking myself is what would make me happy. Today while I have been in Barcelona, I have enjoyed visiting two places which Antoni Gaudi was the architect. My plan was to visit Casa Batllo, Sagrada Familia, and then walk over to Parc Guell but I didn’t make it. The rain, my earache, and my exhaustion did me in before the last 2+ mile walk to Parc Guell.

What I realized at Casa Batllo was that Gaudi was a genius as an architect and also was one of the most creative risk-takers the planet has ever seen. I was captivated by the brilliance and non-traditional style of his work. I tried to picture what it must have been like to live in Casa Batllo. Nothing in our square line architecture can prepare us for how different it must have been to have a house that was patterned after sea creatures. I couldn’t decide if it felt more like a hobbit house or like something from The Little Mermaid. On one hand, it must have seemed strange and gotten old. But on the other, I can see where the family might have grown to love it. Either way, it was magnificent and certainly one of the most creative works I have ever seen. I am not sure I could have given it up to turn it into the museum it is now.

After leaving there in the persistent downpour Barcelona has experienced for the last three days, I headed to the Basilica Sagrada Familia. I stopped for lunch along the way to dry off and have some yummy jamon and queso and beer. I was glad I had the sustenance in me in order to walk the last couple of miles in the rain.

Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for what I was about to see when I got to the church (photos below). I figured I had seen enough Spanish churches that I would be impressed but not shocked from every sense in my body. The outside was shrouded in construction apparatus so I wasn’t impressed yet. Then I walked into the finished interior. I grew up Catholic, but left the church a long time ago. But I have to admit, in that instant, I was once again proud to be Catholic. And for the first time in what seems like forever, I found myself praying.

I could post a few of the hundreds of pictures I took, but none are going to do justice to the size and scope and the overwhelming sensory experience that is the Sagrada Familia. It effected all of my senses and was an completely immersive, emotional experience like nothing I have ever felt before. It was Gaudi’s crowning achievement. He spent 14 years of his life on the project until he was tragically hit by a tram in 1926. The project is still only 60% completed. The interior was finished and dedicated by Pope Benedict XVI in 2010. The exterior is still under construction.

What struck me as I stood there is that Gaudi believed in what he was doing enough to devote his life to the project. He paid attention to the detail in every curve, hyperbola, and trigonometric function. His heart is in the enormous columns that were inspired by trees, in the spiral staircases, statues, arcs and apexes, Gaudi’s commitment, desire, spirituality, and sheer creativity and inspiration comes to life in that structure. I was struck by the question of what does it take to have that level of commitment to something? I was literally standing there with tears running down my face and all that is going through my head.

That is when I realized I have been asking myself the wrong question. The question isn’t what will make me happy… the question I should be asking is what is important enough to sacrifice for? What is important enough to suffer for? It is kind of like losing weight. If it is important enough to devote hours to the gym and focus on diet, you will do it. Or getting a degree, if it is important enough to you, you will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. Whatever you will give your time and effort to, sacrifice and suffer for is where your heart is. So the question is, what are you willing to suffer for?

In my life, I have always had something I had to work really hard and put in effort for. I got a degree so I could take care of my family, National Board certification so I could teach my students well and take care of my family, a PhD so I could have a better career and teach my students better and take care of my family, paying off debt so I could take care of my family…I am seeing a pattern here. All of those things were worth working for, my family was worth working for. But my kids are grown, the husband is gone, the only person that needs me is me, and that feels different. When I had them, when I had a cause, I worked so hard. I haven’t had a cause in over a year and I have been adrift trying to find purpose for my life. But I have been asking the wrong question to find my answers. Instead of asking what will make me happy, I need to ask what will I be willing to put in the effort for? What am I willing to work that hard for, to sacrifice for? Because ultimately, where we are willing to put in the effort, that is where our heart is.

I leave Barcelona and have one more stop in Zürich before I get back to the U.S. for awhile to regroup with my family and do a little skiing with my friends. I have a lot to think about after this trip. I have a lot of unanswered questions still.

Caveat: I have about 500 photos from today. My camera battery is dead and I just grabbed a few. They aren’t the best and this was just my point and shoot not my good camera.

A new day

Posted on October 28, 2013 by rangotti

Port de Sollar, Majorca

I left Mallorca and flew to Madrid. All of a sudden, instead of being surrounded by British, Irish, Scottish, and German tourists, I have been plunged into the heart of Spain where very little English is spoken. In fact, I think I spent the entire day yesterday without hearing English spoken at all. I read Spanish pretty well, as long as I don’t try to open my mouth. The only place I got into trouble was in the supermarket when the clerk was trying to get me to give him a penny to even up my total. He was talking so fast that by the time I figured out what he wanted, he was just giving me my change and was obviously frustrated with me.

Instead of staying in a hotel, I used airbnb.com to find an apartment in central Madrid. Lovely one bedroom overlooking a pedestrian only side street. In the US, many people put shutters on their houses for decoration. In Europe the shutters actually work and serve purposes. They keep the sun out, but more importantly, they are a noise barrier against the street noises. It definitely can get loud at night. Even as I write this at 9 am from my apartment which is technically on the 4^th floor, but actually the 5^th floor and you have to climb 7 flights of stairs to get to it, I can hear the Spanish men who are opening their shops below and they are in a heated discussion about something. I love their passion. They are passionate about everything. It is wonderful.

Poseidon

Yesterday I went to the Prado museum and today went to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza. I honestly was so overwhelmed. There was a Velasquez exhibit at the Prado as the temporary collection which was incredible. It was amazing to see this huge body of work from an artist who lived centuries ago. I kept wondering how fast this person painted because he had hundreds of works. And they aren’t small either. There were many paintings that graced the royal palace and took up entire walls. How with the “technology” he had to work with then, such as making his own paints, did he ever have time to paint all that? In the regular collection at the Prado and the MTB hang masterpieces of not only Velasquez but also Goya, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Monet, Gauguin, Degas and many many more. Works that span 1000 years that were commissioned by kings and churches. Amazing works of art that depict the faces and emotions of people long dead as they faced the common struggles that all humans face.

Rembrandt

That is the thing about great art…it captures that instant of emotion. A scene, even without people, that uses light to give the viewer an image or a second of a glimpse into time, and it takes your breath away. Good photography is the same, it captures pure emotion, either within the faces of the people in the picture or in the hearts of the viewer. Great art just takes the artist longer to capture that essence. They didn’t have digital back in antiquity, they didn’t even have an art store to buy supplies but had to make their own. It took months of scraping canvases, painting and repainting to get it right. Masterpieces.

A House Among the Roses ~Monet

The past two days, I have been honored to stand in the same room with these paintings. I grew up in a middle class household in a small town in rural interior Maine. In my life, I never thought I would be privileged enough to be able to see works of art such these. I think of all the people who will never get to step inside a museum, who might see art from the web or a book, but never have the opportunity to travel to place where their senses are bombarded with piece after piece of some of the most amazing works of art of the planet. And from a photo, there is no way one can grasp the texture of the brushstrokes, or the essence of the painting. I ended up being moved to tears at the privilege of seeing these amazing works with my own eyes.

I am also fortunate to have the experience I get to have. There are so many people who will never get to hear to tolling of bells to greet the day, or hear only a language different from their own spoken, where they have to figure out how to negotiate without words, or try to figure out where they are on a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, to be immersed in a culture that is foreign to realize how much we really are all the same. Human.

Even on streets of Madrid with a different language and culture, emotion comes through unmistakably. Laughter, friendship, joy, grief, sadness, anger…all are displayed everywhere. The love of parent for a child, a young couple newly married, friends meeting for tapas. Unmistakable. Poverty also knows no cultural barriers, beggars, prostitutes, pick-pockets look the same in every culture. Just like great art shows emotion, we can also see it if we just take time to look around at our fellow man. Human beings are fragile, life is to be cherished for the gift that it is.

I am thankful for everything that has happened in my life that has pushed me to this place right now. I am thankful that I had the courage to try again. I truly have the best life ever and I appreciate it every day.

And happy birthday to my wonderful son. I am too young to be the mother of a 32 year old. I love you Patrick.

Stop being a sissy-pants

Posted on October 7, 2013 by rangotti

“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough, and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.” ~Lemony Snicket

Me & The Luddite

I love having older brothers. I am the youngest of seven siblings. I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters. My dad remarried when I was an older teen so I also have four lovely step-sisters but I don’t know them as well. Last week, my brother phoned me after his wife told him about my blog (my brother is a bit of a Luddite who eschews technology). He called to be supportive and his first attempt at that was to tell me to stop being a sissy-pants. When I started laughing, he clarified with “or I just wanted to call and make you laugh”.

I liked candles

My family has the best sense of humor ever. I can’t sit in a room with them and come out with my sides not aching from laughing so hard. And laughter really is the best medicine. I don’t know where I would be without them because through everything, I know my family is there for me. Those roots run deep. We have had our fights. My brothers burned my hair off when I was a little girl by making some concoction in the kitchen while they were babysitting and trying to get me to eat it by putting a candle in it. That didn’t end so well for me. My sister and I traded fisticuffs over the use of the bathroom in the morning before school. But no matter how angry we might get with each other, no matter how long we go without speaking to each other, I know that at any moment if I was in trouble and really needed them, they would be there for me, to pick me up and dust me off when I get knocked down.

Payback for calling me a sissy-pants. I could have posted a much much dorkier picture

After talking with my brother awhile, he reminded me that this sabbatical was an adventure and that there was no wrong way to do it. When I told him that one of the things I was really struggling with was having nowhere that was my own, that I was tired of packing and repacking a suitcase, of not having anywhere to just feel like myself, he again told me not to be a sissy-pants. He reminded me that the challenges were what made the best stories and they are also where the deep learning happens. He reminded me to focus on what I am learning instead of focusing only on what I am frustrated with and to write down those lessons.

I have been learning about the possessions that I truly miss and the ones that were superficial and I know I can live without once this sabbatical is over and I do have a house again. I have been learning about what is really important in life…people and experiences. And most importantly, I have been learning how to focus on myself and about what it really means to take care of myself since I don’t have a home to hide out in. I have to keep myself out in the world which means I can’t afford to slack off, I have do the things that I know keep me centered, it isn’t an option anymore. This is probably the most important lesson I have needed to learn for much of my life, how to take care of myself before taking care of everyone else. I think at the end of this year that is the biggest gift I will have from this experience.

Life now is really just me and a couple of bags of clothes. When talking to my brother that fact hit me, not as an esoteric concept but finally in full brutal reality. Realizing that all the other extraneous stuff of my life has been stripped away, it was one of those moments where I wanted to say “DOH, of course that would be hard”. Once I had that epiphany, it has been a whole lot easier to accept everything and to just flow with it. It has made it easier to accept of the circumstances in which I am living, which by my own admission was my choice, I don’t want to give anyone the idea that I am blaming anyone else. This was a choice and I haven’t been so sure it was the right one until now. I guess I have finally reached the point where I accept that I am on an adventure, not a vacation, and it isn’t supposed to be comfortable.

My favorite quote is by Theodore Roosevelt. It is the “Man in the Arena” quote:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Brene Brown, in an interview with Oprah, said there are two things you need to have to go into the arena. You need someone to be there to pick you up and dust you off when you get your butt kicked, because you will get your butt kicked. And the second thing is, you need absolute clarity of values. Because if you go into the arena and you value courage, then you can choose courage or you can choose comfort but you cannot have both. If you choose courage and you have conviction, even if you fail and get your butt kicked and get pushed to the ground in the arena, you will still know why you are there.

Family vacation

So today, I have both of those things. I have family and friends who I know will be there to pick me up and dust me off when I get kicked to the ground. And I have absolute clarity of values. I value courage over all other virtues. In six days, I leave to go cycling in Spain where I am sure I will get my butt kicked. Today I say: Bring it on.

PS: I have spent the days since my last blog doing pretty well, getting enough sleep, eating right, exercising, spending time with friends and I am feeling much better. Not perfect, but better. Centered and more like my typically exuberant self. Thanks everyone for all the kind words and support.

Life Divided by Zero

The Journey of Becoming Undefined

Category Archives: family

The best kind of guide…

Asking the wrong question…

A new day

Stop being a sissy-pants