While I'm sure most of you know that I've been home in the States for about three weeks now, I'm writing here because my heart is still in Italy...it never left. So while I'm no longer physically in Europe (until the summer anyway), I am there in spirit. What is the point of this blog post? Well, the new year is almost here and I have some reflections to make and share with all of you.
When I was a junior in high school, I dreamed that by the end of my senior year I would take a year off before starting college and travel the world by myself and be happy learning different cultures, different languages, and different ways of living than I had ever seen before. By the time the end of senior year came about, I was nowhere near ready to take on such a feat. I had no money, no plans, and no emotional stability, to say the least. When all of my ideas fell apart, I was so ashamed that I had made all of these boastful announcements to let everyone know how cool and different I was...that I wasn't following the normal trend of going straight off to college to get a degree at a four-year university to find a great job, get married and start a family like everyone else. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was a rebel to the system and that somehow that would make me more enticing and more mysterious to my peers...especially the boy ones. I dreamed it up for all the wrong reasons, at least at that time, but the seed of the real thing never really left. Although I wasn't aware of this at the time, it had only buried itself down deep in the very depths of my soul, waiting for the right time to climb up back to the surface again.
At this time last year (almost three years since senior year), that seed had a reason to start climbing. I was browsing my college website when I happened across the link for study abroad opportunities in four different locations, one of them being Florence, Italy. It was one of those moments in which it seemed as if time had stopped for a moment, and goosebumps and chills simultaneously crawled all over my body from the inside out. At that moment I knew I had to go on this adventure, no matter what it took. It was the first time since high school that I had ever let myself think that it was possible to follow through with my original plans and travel the world to explore. My little dream seed began the treacherous journey upward towards the surface, though we both had no idea how long and difficult that journey would truly be.
I was scared to make the first move of filling out an application and asking a teacher to write a recommendation letter for me. I stalled on writing my personal statement for the longest time because I had no clue as to why I deserved to go. I was scared to continue to think that I could actually pull this off and fly halfway across the world. I mean, how could I possibly? I still had very little money saved up, still no plans of 'how', and still very little emotional stability, though at the time I thought I had quite a bit of it. I tried to sabotage myself every step of the way, and almost succeeded in blowing the whole thing up right in front of my own eyes. I lost my job in May by my own doing, and I thought that it was going to be the end of all things as I knew it. And well, I was right. I had just lost my precious source of income and had just two months until the payment was due. I had to make a choice right then and there, to either let that break me or to keep trucking along.
A job offer to paint the outside of my house landed in my lap, thanks to my mother. I didn't like the idea very much after I thought about how much work I would really have to put into it, but I had no other options. I didn't like the idea of working for my mom very much either, but I bit my tongue and did it anyway. A large chunk of the financial burden was miraculously lifted when I received financial aid for the first time. It was the most beautiful as well as the most frightening moment of my entire life up to that point, because I knew then that it was truly possible for me to go if I had the resolve to come up with the rest. It was all up to me, and that scared the living daylights out of me.
And still I procrastinated; not doing as much work each day as I should have, sleeping in late and blaming not working on the heat of day when I could have worked before the summer sun even reared it's scorching head, skipping whole days here and there to 'take a day off'. I made almost every day a pain in the ass, dragging my feet as if there were a ball and chain attached to them. But somehow, someway, I made it. I just barely made the deadline for the full payment by the skin of my teeth, and I had never felt better in my whole entire existence. The only reason I know I made that deadline is because my desire was always greater than my fear. Every time I would doubt or want to give in to my demons, I would remember the feeling I got when I first saw that page online, and I would keep going, no matter how hard it was.
Then the second battle wave hit. I had to continue the paint job if I wanted any kind of spending money during the three months that I would be living in Florence. I thought that since I had worked so hard to make the first $3,000 of my own money, that the second time around would be a whole lot easier. That couldn't have been further from the truth, and in fact, it was even harder. That ball and chain felt even heavier than before and the heat seemed to get only more intense as the summer dragged on. I had absolutely no discipline whatsoever, and had to get raked by my mother constantly to keep my ass in gear. I would have small bursts of discipline, but they would never last more than three days at a time. My goal was to have at least $2,000 by the time I had to leave, but when that day finally came I barely had half of that number. I was scared, but for some reason I knew that it was all going to be okay...that somehow, money wouldn't be a problem over there. And then I was off on my wild adventure with $800 in my pocket, changing, learning, growing, being wrong and getting back on course again...the rest is history.
My point is, from start to finish this year has been one hell of an adventure. From it's little seedling form came a sprout, and little blossoms are starting to show, waiting to peak in the new year. I learned a lot of things this past year, but if I had to sum it all up with only a few words, I would say, "do it anyway". When fear reared it's ugly head constantly in my path, I pressed on anyway. I paid the price big time to make my dream come true, and I am so much happier for it! I am nowhere near perfect, and still have a long way to go, but I am so grateful for the ways in which the Universe has helped me create something beautiful for myself, and is still helping me to continue creating. I cannot escape fear, but I know that I have a choice, and I make the same choice every time it shows up: do it anyway, do it anyway.
I'm sure that 2011 will be full of even more surprises, new dreams, better ways of living, and more fear to conquer. I've learned also that every time I think I know something, I'm probably wrong. I have been humbled in so many ways, so I'm going into the new year not knowing anything, ready to listen for directions. I have no idea what this year has in store for me, or in what ways I will change, but I am ready; ready for the challenge of living it to the best of my abilities and getting help every step of the way. I have witnessed myself climbing the mountains and weathering the storms that 2010 had lined up for me, and I can't wait to begin the ones for 2011. Bring it on, baby!
To those of you who think that you don't deserve your dreams, you are right. Create the kind of self that does deserve them, no matter how scary it is at the time. It's not easy, but it's worth it when you can enjoy all the fruits of your labor. Ignite the fires of your soul and create the life you want to live, and when fear or anything else tries to get in your way, do it anyway.
December 31, 2010
December 05, 2010
Meeting Erica
Most people travel for the fun of it; to experience a new culture, to see how differently people around the world live, act, and speak; and sometimes to find themselves, to figure out who they are and what they want from life...what they can offer the world. I guess you can say I'm one of those deep people who learns something new just by walking out of her front door...just imagine me traveling halfway across the world to learn new things. If you can't imagine it, I look something like a kid in a candy store, staring into every jar with wide, curious eyes, filled with complete joy waiting in anticipation to taste each yummy thing. During these three months abroad, I got lucky enough to not only find myself, but to have found someone else as well.
I first met Erica (oh, and you have to roll the 'r') a little more than halfway into the semester when I went to Pisa. I had gone to Pisa with the intention of meeting an Italian family to see if I would be a good fit for them, working as an aupair during the summer. Of course, that all happened and it went great (minus being a little late...those darn trains!) and I got the job and I'm coming back in the summer, but the highlight of my time spent was meeting this woman.
I met Erica again when I went to Switzerland for a weekend to visit a dear friend of mine. Switzerland is a LOT different than Italy, let me tell you! The streets are organized, the houses are organized, the trains are organized...EVERYTHING IS ORGANIZED!! I fell in love with the snow covered mountains of the Swiss Alps as the evening sun cast it's radiant glow (which, by the way, can be seen from my friend's bedroom window). They took my breath away every time, taken aback by how much beauty there really is in the world. I also fell in love with Swiss bread; it is some of the softest, freshest, most delicious bread in the whole wide world! And no...I'm not exaggerating! I love their chocolate too, but I already knew that :)
My friend, Mara, took me to Bern (a big city about a half hour from where she lives) to show me what their version of a 'big city' is, because being from Los Angeles...well, you get the point. To our surprise, it started to snow! I was so excited, because the last time I'd seen snow I was in Idaho (which was oh, I don't know...six or seven years ago maybe?), and even then I'd never been in snow when it was actually falling. My favorite part of this snow experience was bending my knees, taking Mara's hands and being pulled like a sled in an open square next to their version of a white house. My shoes were slick enough to act like skis, and hers had enough traction to be able to run in snow, so it worked out perfectly. I felt like a little kid should feel, laughing uncontrollably with utter joy and happiness, playing in the snow with my friend, without a care in the world.
Going back to Erica, her presence was in my life once more as I entered the humble abode of Mara and her family. Apparently, it's completely normal for people that live in Switzerland to speak more than two languages, many people speaking four. Now for an American, that is completely mind-boggling because we only grow up with one main language, and of course since the rest of the world can speak English we don't bother learning others. Anyway, I experienced a mish mash of languages, ranging from Italian, English, Swiss German and French, and I absolutely loved it. I can't get over how interesting language is...how there are a million different ways to communicate the same thing. Of course, there are slight differences in construct and meaning depending on the culture, but at the end of the day the understanding is there. Mara's mother could speak [only] Swiss German and Italian, so we spoke in Italian for most of the time, and that's where Erica came in.
I realized that Erica is different than me in a lot of ways; she's more easygoing, more accepting of those different from herself, speaks and understands Italian better than I do, and gets less annoyed at the little things. When Erica is there the energy is light and happy, and the sound of laughter is ever prominent. She knows what she wants and goes after it, grounded, confident, and unfailing; there is a sense of raw power and strength about her. When I first met her in Pisa I was a little taken aback--I had no idea that I would ever run into someone like this, but I am so glad that I did.
At about this time I'm sure you're asking, who is this chick, really? And at about this time I'll tell you that she is me; she is my alter-ego, my Italian counterpart, my best friend. I found her when Giuglia (the mother in Pisa) told me that in Italian, Heather translates to Erica (with a rolled 'r' :)). My American name is difficult for most Italians to pronounce--well, make that most Europeans in general--because of the 'h' and the 'th', so every Italian that I've met in Pisa or the one I met in Switzerland calls me Erica. I have to admit that I didn't like the name at first, but it's grown on me since I've since then gotten to know this person pretty well.
Looking back at these past three months, I can see and feel how much I've grown and changed. The other day I was reading the first few entries in my journal, and I realized how much of a piss pot I was at the beginning. I complained about almost everything without even being aware of it. I thought I was better than everyone else because I was here to learn Italian and learn the ways of the culture, not to get drunk every night and act like a stupid American like everyone else. But somehow, someway, I let all of that go and changed from an angry and resentful caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, adapt with vivid colors and wings to fly.
I've met some amazing, generous, loving people and attracted some crazy, trans-formative, healing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. Each of these people and experiences have both taken a piece of my heart and given one back ten times over. My heart has grown, my vision has broadened, my love for the world has expanded, and my point of attraction has shifted onto a completely new and exciting level. I've developed a deep knowing that there is no need to fear the world or whatever comes my way, that there is never any need to worry about money, that no matter what my dreams and aspirations are, they can be mine if I trust in the Universe and in myself and get busy doing what needs to be done.
So yes, my three months in Italy are up and I'm coming home to my beautiful and supportive family within 30 hours. But I'm not going back the same. I have Erica right by my side to help me practice my Italian and keep me on track when a tough day rears it's ugly head. I have my dreams to pull me forward, and people in my life to remind me of those dreams when I forget that they can be mine. I have a summer in Pisa to look forward to and friends in scattered places all over the world. Everything I love is here: the culture, the food, the language, the people...minus my family of course. Am I sad to be leaving? A little bit, but it's normal to feel that way when you leave the life you've known for three months, but I've learned that just when I think my adventure has ended, it has really only just begun.
I first met Erica (oh, and you have to roll the 'r') a little more than halfway into the semester when I went to Pisa. I had gone to Pisa with the intention of meeting an Italian family to see if I would be a good fit for them, working as an aupair during the summer. Of course, that all happened and it went great (minus being a little late...those darn trains!) and I got the job and I'm coming back in the summer, but the highlight of my time spent was meeting this woman.
I met Erica again when I went to Switzerland for a weekend to visit a dear friend of mine. Switzerland is a LOT different than Italy, let me tell you! The streets are organized, the houses are organized, the trains are organized...EVERYTHING IS ORGANIZED!! I fell in love with the snow covered mountains of the Swiss Alps as the evening sun cast it's radiant glow (which, by the way, can be seen from my friend's bedroom window). They took my breath away every time, taken aback by how much beauty there really is in the world. I also fell in love with Swiss bread; it is some of the softest, freshest, most delicious bread in the whole wide world! And no...I'm not exaggerating! I love their chocolate too, but I already knew that :)
My friend, Mara, took me to Bern (a big city about a half hour from where she lives) to show me what their version of a 'big city' is, because being from Los Angeles...well, you get the point. To our surprise, it started to snow! I was so excited, because the last time I'd seen snow I was in Idaho (which was oh, I don't know...six or seven years ago maybe?), and even then I'd never been in snow when it was actually falling. My favorite part of this snow experience was bending my knees, taking Mara's hands and being pulled like a sled in an open square next to their version of a white house. My shoes were slick enough to act like skis, and hers had enough traction to be able to run in snow, so it worked out perfectly. I felt like a little kid should feel, laughing uncontrollably with utter joy and happiness, playing in the snow with my friend, without a care in the world.
Going back to Erica, her presence was in my life once more as I entered the humble abode of Mara and her family. Apparently, it's completely normal for people that live in Switzerland to speak more than two languages, many people speaking four. Now for an American, that is completely mind-boggling because we only grow up with one main language, and of course since the rest of the world can speak English we don't bother learning others. Anyway, I experienced a mish mash of languages, ranging from Italian, English, Swiss German and French, and I absolutely loved it. I can't get over how interesting language is...how there are a million different ways to communicate the same thing. Of course, there are slight differences in construct and meaning depending on the culture, but at the end of the day the understanding is there. Mara's mother could speak [only] Swiss German and Italian, so we spoke in Italian for most of the time, and that's where Erica came in.
I realized that Erica is different than me in a lot of ways; she's more easygoing, more accepting of those different from herself, speaks and understands Italian better than I do, and gets less annoyed at the little things. When Erica is there the energy is light and happy, and the sound of laughter is ever prominent. She knows what she wants and goes after it, grounded, confident, and unfailing; there is a sense of raw power and strength about her. When I first met her in Pisa I was a little taken aback--I had no idea that I would ever run into someone like this, but I am so glad that I did.
At about this time I'm sure you're asking, who is this chick, really? And at about this time I'll tell you that she is me; she is my alter-ego, my Italian counterpart, my best friend. I found her when Giuglia (the mother in Pisa) told me that in Italian, Heather translates to Erica (with a rolled 'r' :)). My American name is difficult for most Italians to pronounce--well, make that most Europeans in general--because of the 'h' and the 'th', so every Italian that I've met in Pisa or the one I met in Switzerland calls me Erica. I have to admit that I didn't like the name at first, but it's grown on me since I've since then gotten to know this person pretty well.
Looking back at these past three months, I can see and feel how much I've grown and changed. The other day I was reading the first few entries in my journal, and I realized how much of a piss pot I was at the beginning. I complained about almost everything without even being aware of it. I thought I was better than everyone else because I was here to learn Italian and learn the ways of the culture, not to get drunk every night and act like a stupid American like everyone else. But somehow, someway, I let all of that go and changed from an angry and resentful caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly, adapt with vivid colors and wings to fly.
I've met some amazing, generous, loving people and attracted some crazy, trans-formative, healing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. Each of these people and experiences have both taken a piece of my heart and given one back ten times over. My heart has grown, my vision has broadened, my love for the world has expanded, and my point of attraction has shifted onto a completely new and exciting level. I've developed a deep knowing that there is no need to fear the world or whatever comes my way, that there is never any need to worry about money, that no matter what my dreams and aspirations are, they can be mine if I trust in the Universe and in myself and get busy doing what needs to be done.
So yes, my three months in Italy are up and I'm coming home to my beautiful and supportive family within 30 hours. But I'm not going back the same. I have Erica right by my side to help me practice my Italian and keep me on track when a tough day rears it's ugly head. I have my dreams to pull me forward, and people in my life to remind me of those dreams when I forget that they can be mine. I have a summer in Pisa to look forward to and friends in scattered places all over the world. Everything I love is here: the culture, the food, the language, the people...minus my family of course. Am I sad to be leaving? A little bit, but it's normal to feel that way when you leave the life you've known for three months, but I've learned that just when I think my adventure has ended, it has really only just begun.
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