In homage to Elena Brower’s April writing.

Once I thought I wanted to work in for-profit business. I wanted to make good in the world by investing in the business practices that led to supporting the community, doing less harm in nature. I spent a few years creating programs that used the skills of those in the business to help others in the city; people who valued that knowledge and the expertise. I explored how other businesses were doing it, identifying how we could tread more lightly. I moved quickly, dividing my time between the work that called to my desire for environmental and community benefit and the work that the business needed. Projects that interested me, designing systems that made work more efficient, taking the mundane, rote tasks and simplifying them. I moved so fast that I forgot about myself and what I needed, balancing both sides, while realizing that the business valued the efficiency. Doing environmental and social good was an add-on, not an intrinsic cog in the functioning wheel. 

Once I wanted to immerse myself in cultures unlike my own. I packed up my life and moved to the Republic of Georgia, spending time among the community, learning their language, understanding their traditions, and helping them implement projects that they wanted for their schools, their towns. I loved the kids, so eager for something new, to be taught, hungry for knowledge. I was hungry, too, learning cultivation practices for wine, how to make my own cheese, the importance of community and what it means to be a part of it. I struggled to be my full self, showing up in the most socially acceptable ways that a woman could, acknowledging that I got a pass because I was a foreigner. 

Once I thought I would be a writer. I remember sitting in my third grade classroom, staring up at the projector, and devouring the prompt, creating worlds with people I knew in them. I felt the tingling down through my arms. I still have the bump on my left hand, third finger, where the pen has sat for the past 30 years. It is a reminder of my inside world alive on the outside, an expression of myself that I will continue to evolve as long as I live. 

Once I thought I would be a lawyer, thinking about the people oppressed and demonized for simply being who they are, for wanting to protect their natural spaces and their traditions. For wanting a better life. I wanted to fight along with them, identifying what rights people have and how a small change for individuals is a change to the system. I still dream of this, of making the world a better place to live in for everyone, as they are. 

Once I designed a life that was tied to nowhere, traveling the world and moving in out of jobs so that I never had to put down roots. An insatiable desire for experiencing the differences of how people live to expand my understanding of the world. I would learn new languages, shed the need for things, and connect myself to people, their stories, and how that made them who they are. I have embraced the sacredness of having a place to call home, knowing that it’s only mine for so long, feeling the deeper connection to a particular soil, a coastline, accepting its changes, tuning into the seasons, and slowing down in them. I am learning to balance the settling lightly with the thirst of opening to other ways of being. 

There are a lot of dreams that I still harness, realizing the mistakes I’ve made and the opportunities I’ve had to pick myself up again and keep going. I have recognized how much I love learning, how passionate I am to contribute to something more than myself, and to get into the good kind of trouble, the kind that upsets systems and status quos. 

I accept the imperfections and make (and take up) space, living deeply committed to my truth. And as I continue this evolution, to connect to what’s working for me now, I find solace in knowing that’s exactly what I need to be doing to live in alignment with my authentic self. There are many phases of my life, I move through them with a genuine desire to learn as much as I can from teachers who come in all forms, and to give back what I can without giving up myself. 

The strands of hair turning brown to gray, new freckles appearing up arms and legs, and fine lines emerging around my eyes, I feel the shifts and see them appear, slowly in some cases and more quickly in others. They are a part of the transformation, stepping into transitions and embracing the challenges that appear before me with one hand over my heart. A promise to myself that the journey is my opportunity to see where I am, to recognize myself and to trust the process.