Lynne Guey

My 2012 Theme Word: Forward

Last year around this time, I dubbed 2011 the year of flight.  I meant that in all positive respects. Literally, I wanted to take off and explore more of the world. Metaphorically, I wanted to escape my comfort zone. The overall goal was to not be bound to anything too familiar that limited my potential.

Well, I flew for sure.  If 3 months romping around Europe teaching English to Italian kiddies and going broke doesn’t fulfill the free-spirited vow I made to myself, then maybe next time I’ll go to Tibet and become a monk.

What I learned while living out of a suitcase is that no matter how hard I try, I’m not a minimalist traveler. My oversized luggage will forever label me that girl with too much ‘baggage’. I’m pretty sure my suitcase caused me more trouble than even my lack of Italian with all the times I had to check that damn thing in ‘baggage deposit’.  

More importantly, I spent a lot of time in 2011…lost.  While navigating the streets of Europe, I constantly faced the question: zig or zag?  With no smart phone to turn to, I was left with no other option but to zig and zag. 3 hours later, with the original destination still nowhere in sight, I settled for hidden gems in unknown territory.  When you’re hungry, everything is delicious. You learn to enjoy the scenery regardless.

Back in the States, I did the same. I zigzagged between life paths.  Zigging toward Teach for America one month, then deviating toward 30 Rock in pursuit of their page program, zagging toward a startup venture back in Gainesville, and finally jetting off to New York for what remains to be seen.  I mulled over each prospect deeply, so deeply that I emerged out of the maze of my mind less sure about the original intent.  And with a glorious headache.

2011 was the year of flight because I took off and jumped from city to city with no set direction. And honestly, that’s what I wanted. I neglected to build a mental map because I wanted the freedom to go without one. Also, I didn’t know where I wanted to go. But now I think I know.

For my 2012 theme word, I debated between words like intent, care, and focus.  My thinking was that I once was a flighty bird, now it’s time to build a nest. Think of my intent. Handle everything with care.

But what am I? A nesting bird? There’s a time and place for everything. I don’t believe that 2012 calls for settling or more thinking. I think that I think enough already to know what my intent is behind every action.  The biggest challenge now is to actually take the plunge. Move forward.

2011 was a year of zigs and zags, arrivals and departures, flights.  Since May, I haven’t stayed in one place for more than a month before venturing elsewhere to shake things up. I emerge out of the maze happy to have survived, but like a shaken up child just off a roller coaster, I realize now back on solid ground that I haven’t actually moved forward. 

I’ll try to be realistic here.  If I can make just one tiny decision that moves me closer to being my best self, whatever that may entail, wherever that may be, that’s a success in my flighty mind. 2012 is the year forward. 

Thanks for Thanks: Chapter 3

Thanks for the obvious: family, friends, food. 

Thanks for the subtle: hard times, resilience, faith. 

Thanks for a mobile body and a functioning mind.

Thanks for the five senses, awakening the moment.

Thanks for the carefree existence I’ve been afforded, a luxury not often allowed in this frazzled world.

Thanks for home and all its comforts.

Thanks for art and its ability to communicate beauty.

Thanks for teachers.

Thanks for chocolate.

Thanks for sunshine.

Thanks for being nice.

Thanks for not being too nice.

Thanks for those who aren’t afraid.

Thanks for keeping things interesting.

Thanks for smiling. :)

Thanks for new life.

Thanks to God.

Most of all, thanks for thanks.

Thanks, for birthday cake: Chapter 2

When my sister Wendy turned 6, she received two unexpected pieces of news. The first was that she would no longer have her own birthday cake. This was heartbreaking, because it meant she’d have to share.  As if it weren’t enough that there were already a million other people born on September 29, stealing her spotlight on her special day, she couldn’t avoid this cake-stealer. That’s because it would be living next door, wailing at all hours of the night and needing its ass wiped every few hours. That delightful creature would be her little sister- me, born exactly six years after her first candle was lit.

The second thing Wendy learned was that her super sweet 6withouttheteen birthday bash at Rapids Water Park would be cancelled, or at least postponed until our Mother could recuperate from my birth. This was almost definitely the more devastating of the headlines, for 6 is one of those years when birthday parties are obligatory markers of social standing within the kindergarten hierarchy. Not having a birthday party was like coloring outside the lines - sacrilegious and ugly. Yup, her life was effectively ruined. 

So at the ripe age of 6, my sister didn’t exactly welcome my arrival with a bed of roses. Though over the course of the next ten years, we did share many a bed, igniting some violent blanket tug-of-wars.  I once punched her in the middle of the night (I was dreaming okay!) and she slapped me in return. This is the truest reflection of our relationship- mutual abuse, no holds barred.

I write as if we’re two dueling dragons, but we breathe friendly puffs of air, not deadly balls of fire. She can beat me at any game involving mental acuity (aka brains), but I compensate with a…zest for food? We’re friends. Most of all, she keeps it real, never indulging me with things that appease. And yet when she criticizes, she does so with such sophistication and good humor that you forget she’s actually pointing out your wrongs. 

Last week, she and I celebrated our birthdays together, which was nothing special of course because we’ve been having joint parties since my diaper-wearing days. Pretty clear who got the better end of the deal there…partying with 5 year olds is always the best!

We are now 22 and 28.. This year’s party got rockin’ at Wendy’s apartment in Cambridge with me, our Mom, Wendy, her husband John, and their 3-week old baby boy.  As we sat on the anniversaries of our existence with a simple home-cooked dinner, the thought of our passing age barely crossed my mind. Baby Christopher sang the birthday tune with his wails, necessitating several pauses for diaper-changing.  This was a different celebration indeed.

For 22 years, I’ve relished in all the glory of my birthday by devouring cake and ripping open gifts. But there’s something about new existence that feeds the appetite of your own. Gluttonous craving for your cake subsides (and I’m not just saying that because we opted for pie this year).  

The birth of my beautiful baby nephew has given me a small taste of what it must have felt like for Wendy when I came into the picture 22 years ago. I not only took her cake, I took her birthday party, I took her clothes, I took the very essence of her identity and blended it into my own. And since the age of six, she’s graciously shared, asking for nothing more than an occasional massage in return. :)

Wendy is my sister by birth, soul sister by choice.  She’s sparked my envious interest in the many activities she excelled in, yet continuously encouraged me to be my own person and follow my bliss.  I am grateful for her wisdom. Most of all I am grateful for who she is: living proof of selfless living. 22 years ago, I joined her at the table for cake. I devoured my share with all its extra toppings- frothy whipped cream with a cherry on top and dribbling chocolate sauce on the side. She graciously provided my selfish indulgence and now my appetite for life is well-fed. 

It’s time for me to make room at the table for baby Christopher, yet another September baby who will be digging into life’s cake. My slice of cake will heretofore be smaller but that’s okay.  With more people at the table, we will still manage to have our cake, eat it, and yes, perhaps even enjoy the deliciousness of life more too.