A Rose By Any Other Name

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title."

A few years ago, when I was teaching 9th grade, one of the administrators asked, "Why do we still teach Romeo and Juliet? It is just a story about two horny teenagers, that was written by an ancient, dead, white man." Although I can understand what she was trying to tell me, I was so sad that she didn't know how many universal, timeless, and modernly-applicable treasures were hidden- by that ancient, dead, white guy- in his drama that taught us about selfishness in motives and desires, pain of pride, evils of stereotypical identifications, loyalty in friendships, and destruction through deception.

One of the major themes of Romeo and Juliet is that labels can determine one's fate. The drama implies that the labels themselves do not determine the fate, but rather how people think and act towards someone due to his/her label can be a determining factor of what happens to a person in his/her life.  In the case of Romeo, his fate was affected because he had the label of the last name of Montague.  Anyone with the label of Montague was not allowed to associate with anyone who had the label of Capulet.  Not only were they not allowed to associate with a Capulet, but they actually were supposed to harbor and act of out hate towards them. It had nothing to do with what an individual looked like, his/her race, or personality. The name association determined who they could love and who they were supposed to hate. 

So, when Romeo, a Montague, fell "in love" (I put this in quotations because there is much doubt about how their feelings should be defined. However, this is an entirely different lesson.) with Juliet, a Capulet, and she fell "in love" with him, their names presented quite a, as Shakespeare puts it, "death-marked" problem.  Their titles determined their realities.  

On a much, much less dramatic, but nonetheless similar note, I have had quite the title reality-check yesterday. I had to write a new title on an application.  In "occupation," I didn't write teacher.  It was very strange that I felt both freedom and sadness for the replacement of a title I associated with myself, so deeply, for so long.

I felt freedom because I know how much that title defined me (from myself and from others).  It was difficult for me to know who I was without that title. For a while, it was almost as if I needed to get to know myself all over again, so that I could have some knowledge of who I was without that title. 

However, I felt sadness because I really loved my time as a teacher.  It was what I was supposed to do when I was supposed to do it, and I felt the truth in that fact with every fiber of my being.

Many of the experiences that helped shape who I have become were because I was a teacher. I met people who wouldn't have been in my life if I was not a teacher.  I learned things that I wouldn't have learned if I was not a teacher.  A big part of my life's experiences revolved around the fact that I was a teacher. 

It wasn't until I became something other than a teacher that I realized that, even though the term hold a special place as what I've done, I am so much more than a teacher. Over the past month, I have learned things about myself that I didn't know I had in me.  I have embraced this time to learn and develop these qualities, and I know that I am where I need to be in order to do so.  

Similarly, as Juliet pointed out, if I called a rose something else, it would not change the characteristics of the rose. The rose would look the same, smell the same, and be the same- even if I chose to call it something else.  Without the title of teacher, I still have the same qualities that make me who I am. 

There might be a day when I again will have the title of teacher, but I know that, even though I don't have that title, I still am who I am.  Who I am is someone who likes to serve others. That is why I loved teaching. That is why I love what I am doing now. It provides a humbling, very quiet confidence to know that, any title I have now or in the future will not change that. 

*Dedicated to Miss Rose, whose family inspired today's entry by solidifying for me that I am where I need to be, in this moment in time.

House Hunters Diary- Day 2

Dear Future House,

Please don't take this the wrong way, but, I have a feeling that you are playing hide and seek with me.  Our matchmaker showed us a lot of your friends today, but I don't think you were in that group. Some of your friends were far away from work. Most of your friends that we can afford are "mobile."  My husband and I both agreed that we wouldn't mind taking care of one of your "mobile" friends, but others we have talked to about it seem to think it isn't a good idea.  One of your friends was really nice. It had a lot of space and a very nice pool, but had a freeway right behind the wall of the backyard! Oh well.

So, where are you hiding?  I know it is only day 2 of the process, but there is something you need to know about me.  I have been waiting for you for a very long time, and I am ready to find you and take care of you.

If you need some new "outfits," we are willing to clean and dress you up. Just make sure that you have a good foundation and are not hiding anything creepy from us. That's all we ask.

We will continue to look for where you are hiding.  

Sincerely,
Hopeful House Hunter

House Hunters Diary- Day 1

Dear Future House,

My husband and I officially started the process of finding you today, as we met with the person who is going to guide us through this "rollercoaster" of the home-buying process.  I feel very comfortable with him, which is a good thing, because he has a ridiculous amount of my information! 

Over the past couple weeks, my husband and I have been gathering all of the paperwork necessary to find out how much we will be able to spend on you.  I have been checking Zillow once in a while, but I probably should stop doing that until I find out how much we can spend on you. One thing I appreciate about my husband is that, he and I are on the same page about being excited about owning you, but we are very adamant about not wanting you to own us. Sorry about that.

There isn't much to report right now, but we have started the process. Hope to meet you soon.

Sincerely,
Hopeful House-Hunter

Epiphany for the Day

We all have asked it before.  Sometimes, we ask out of confusion, while other times, we ask out of curiosity.  Sometimes we ask out of anger, while other times, we ask out of appreciation for new knowledge. 

When I taught 2-3 year-olds, I would be asked this question many times out of curiosity.  While teaching Jr. High, I would hear the question be asked less out of curiosity, and more out of anger. As I continue to emerge into adulthood, I have noticed that, as people get older, the question seems to trap itself inside their heads and is mostly asked, not out of a genuine curiosity, but because they need justification when something "bad" happens.

The question is "Why?"

Why did he/she do that?
Why did I do that?
Why don't I have this?
Why do I have this?
Why can't they just understand?
Why did this happen to me?
Why didn't this happen to me?
Why can't I have that?
Why...Why...Why?

I rarely ask these questions when things are going well.  I wonder why that is? (Sorry, I couldn't help myself.)
 
It is usually when I didn't like the situation-when it wasn't going the way that I thought it should- that I would ask these questions.  Somehow, the situation or idea needed justification, and I had a difficult time accepting it if I didn't have an answer.  If only I knew why, then things would have been more settled for me.

Today, I thought of the age-old question, "If God exists, why do bad things happen?" It is a very, very valid question, and it is one that I am not intimidated to answer anymore. In order to begin to answer that question, I would need to return that question with many, many other questions. It would take patience, but I enjoy engaging in that type of conversation.  I don't know if I have the answer, but I know what I believe. 

The interesting thing about the question "why?" is that, the more I find some answers, the less I am asking that question when other situations do not go my way. 

I feel like, when I ask "why?" now,  I doing it more out of a child-like wonder or curiosity than a need to justify a situation. Even though I don't know why I feel this way, it does give me peace.

Singin' the Brews

For the past two weeks, I have been on a little adventure.   Those of you who know my addiction to coffee are probably not going to believe that for two weeks, I have only had one cup of regular coffee.  The interesting thing about that one cup is that I didn't even finish it.  I couldn't finish it. It just didn't taste good to me anymore.  This really freaked me out.  It isn't that I am denying myself regular coffee- I have had opportunities to have it if I wanted it.  No one was holding me accountable- not even myself. 

I just found something I like better, and, according to my acupuncturist (who is thrilled that I am not drinking regular coffee), it is actually better for me than regular coffee.  In fact, she said that the reishi mushroom/ganoderma spores and extract has many health benefits for me. Those of you who know about ancient Chinese herbs will probably know what it is.  It is difficult for me to explain, but I can say that I enjoy the taste of the drink and I am more alert, but much calmer than I was when I was drinking regular coffee. 

It makes me want to put my hand in the air and sing,"I've got the I-don't-need-to-worry-about-making-coffee-without-a-coffee-maker-becase-all-I-need-to-do-is-put-the-packet-in-a-mug-and-add-hot-or-warm-water, and I-am-feeling-so-much-better-since-I-stopped-drinking-regular-coffee brew-hews-uh."  

If you are interested in finding out more about what I have been drinking, you can go to the following link, select the country/language you want, select Products, then beverages, and see the details: Singin the Brews.

Put the Mirror Down - A Poem in Progress

I sit in a constant courtroom,
and I listen to the witness testimonies for my case.

Some witnesses are there with the intention to save me.

Some are there to condemn.

But, they only know their side of my story,

so their witness accounts and their motives, 
good or bad,
 are of inconsequence to the verdict.

They like to talk anyway, and I patiently listen. Sometimes, I learn something.

The judge catches my eye during each testimony,

trying to make me feel guilt by

nodding in agreement when the stories are full of shame,

and looking incredulous when they are full of praise.

 

When I can't bear the looks from the judge any longer,
I cry out for the One with the pierced hands.

 

The One with the pierced hands takes the mirror off the wall in front of me-

causing the judge that was staring back at me
to no longer be able to tempt me
into the sin of self-judgment or self-aggrandizement.

The judge- the mirror- my identity- is put on the ground.

It is then that I can clearly see the face of the One with the pierced hands.

Sometimes, I put the mirror back up, wanting to prove myself
 to the judge and those in the courtroom.
When I put the mirror back up,

the One with the pierced hands is patient.
 

I am always able to put the mirror back up,
but I am not strong enough to take it down on my own.
 

He knows this and will take it down when I ask Him to,
but he gives me the gift of choice to put it up and leave it up as I choose.

He will never force me to take it down.
He is too loving for that.
 

He knows I am better without the mirror.
I just need to realize that truth and stop putting it back up.

Once in a while, witnesses share with me their side of my case.
But, they don't know all sides of my story.

They try to convince the mirror that I should do things the way they see it should be.
 

Sometimes, they don't know that the mirror isn't there.

They don't know that- when the mirror is down- the judge they talk to,
when they give their side,
 is the One with the pierced hands,

and He listens to them while He smiles at me.

 

My "Holden Caulfield" Experience

There have been a few times in my life when my past and present have decided to meet for a coffee date together. Ironically, they had a date this morning while I was in an actual coffee shop in Mission Valley.  While meeting with one of my colleagues and friends, who was visiting San Diego on vacation, in walked one of the actors from the theater show I did when I lived here 10 years ago.  He changed a lot, going from a full head of thick hair to almost none.  It made me wonder how different I must have looked to him. I am amazed how quickly some things change within  what seems like a short amount of time.  Watching two people, from different times in my life, shake hands in a coffee shop (that I used to go to quite often 10 years ago) helped me realize how much I have changed over the past few years.  Moments like this happen. They are moments that I have affectionately called, a "Holden Caulfield" experience.

Those of you who have read J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye might understand the title and main idea of this entry.  For those of you who have not been introduced to the story's main character, Holden Caulfield, I will give you a brief explanation of why I choose to call moments like today, a "Holden Caulfield" experience. It has been a while since I have read the story, so forgive me if the details are a bit blurry.

Throughout the story, Holden is in the process of transforming from boyhood to manhood. This transformation takes place while he walks through a tunnel of cynicism.  He questions the adult world's "phoniness" and rebels against having the qualities that the adults in his life possess. I don't know about you, but there have been times in my life when I went through that stage where I was determined to be opposite of the person whose qualities I despised.  Sometimes, teetering too far in the opposite direction throws me off balance from who I really am- just like it did for Holden.

Since I do not want to write a plot or character analysis, I will just say that I think his climax into the realization that he really is growing up happened when he went to the Museum of Natural History.  On his way to the museum and while he is there,  he realizes that the museum never changes- that the only thing that would be different when he goes to the museum is himself. 

With the exception of the people working there and the new types of teas, the coffee shop looked exactly the same as it did when I started going there 10 years ago.  Just being there might have sparked a "Holden Caulfield" experience for me, but seeing someone from my most resent past and my more distant past together in this place made me realize that I have entered the "Museum of San Diego," and I have noticed how much I have changed since the last time I was in that coffee shop (as well as San Diego, for that matter).  

There may be many more times that I have this experience. Some might be more pleasant than others. Just like, because he had changed, some of the things that Holden saw in the museum made him angry, there are things around me might trigger the same emotion.  As long as I remember that the experiences I had, have, and will continue to have, will lead me to allowing my true self to flourish, I think that the museums in my life will be equally pleasant experiences for me in the future.

Shredding and Shedding

Many people who know me well know that I thrive on multi-tasking. It is easier for me to accomplish something if I have other things going on simultaneously- especially if the initial task at hand is a tedious one.

This past week, I was given the task to shred a bag full of papers. Anyone who has had this task knows that the monotonously spastic rhythm of the buzzing of the machine is enough to drive anyone, who is paying attention, crazy! I knew I needed a distraction, but I didn't know what I could do while shredding, since my hands would be busy. 

The light-bulb of good ideas haloed above my head as I remembered that I brought my Thigh Master to work.  Knowing that I would be sitting a lot more than I am used to, I thought that it would be important to have something to do to help stimulate the blood flow in my legs. I couldn't think of anything better to accomplish this than to have my Thigh Master at work, since it would stimulate blood flow while I could, as the commercial says, "squeeze, squeeze, squeeze" my way "to shapely hips and thighs."  So, I walked back to my desk to retrieve the Thigh Master.

I am really glad that no one was there on an appointment or visitation, because it would have looked very strange for me to walk through the hallways of a mortuary with a bright-blue figure-eight-shaped object that is almost the size of my entire arm.

Once I got in a comfortable position and gave myself a couple test squeezes, I continued my task of shredding while attempting to shed some weight.  

While shredding, I didn't realize that the Thigh Master made a creaking sound because of the loud sound the shredder made.  Interestingly enough, I realized that it squeaks with each squeeze and release when I was trying to be patient while waiting for some papers to be delivered to my desk, so that I could enter them into the computer and have the family proof the document I typed.  So, while my husband was in the other room with a family, I slowly and, as quietly as I could, put the Thigh Master in place and started to squeeze. If sound could be heard in slow motion, this was the moment that it would have happened.  It might have been because I was trying to be quiet that I took longer to squeeze it together.  There was no doubt that everyone in the other room heard the squeak.  As embarrassed as I would have been if I had just let a big one rip (even though I know that girls don't do that), I quickly yanked the Thigh Master out of place and started opening drawers to make whoever might have heard me think that they heard the drawer squeak. Since that moment, I only use it when no one else is around.

The rest of the week, I tried to think of how better to utilize my Thigh Master during the day.  So far, I have felt like it has made a difference to have it at work.  It helps make typing data and doing other important, but tedious, tasks much more pleasant. This is one spoon-full-of-sugar that makes the some of my tedious "medicine"- and with more consistent use, my pounds- go down.

Fun with Friends and Family

It feels strange to be at work on a Friday after a holiday. It feels strange to be at work on the fifth of July, period (being that I have had July 5th off for the past ten years).  

Luckily, my boss (who some of you might not know, is my dad) was nice enough to give me the day off, yesterday. Even though there were many exciting places to go to in San Diego, I think I had more fun staying home and spending time with my family and friends. 

I was able to spend time with my sister, yesterday. She and I have an affinity for playing games. We are quite the power-team for Catch Phrase, but I learned that it is almost impossible to be successful in a game of Scattegories when she is playing, too.  Even with our very contrasted personalities and interests, she and I share a brain.  During another time in our lives, someone thought it was so strange how we would answer questions at the same time, with the same voice inflection. So, he decided to see just how similar our brains were by giving us each a piece of paper and a pen, telling us a word, and waiting for us to write down which word came to mind when we heard the word he said. We got most of the same answers, but the one that really stood out was when he said the word airplane.  Both my sister and I wrote Tylenol as the word that came to mind when we heard the word airplane. Usually, people do not associate the word airplane with Tylenol; my sister and I do. This is the reason I know that we share a brain. So, playing Scattegories, (a game where, if you match answers with someone, you lose points) with her was fun because if validated that "we've still got it," but was complicating my ability to win the game. I'm pretty sure I will get over that, though.  I would not trade sharing a brain with my sister for winning a game of Scattegories.

One of my friends also came over to visit, and she brought her adorable little girl. (It is so fun to watch friends become parents! I loved listening to my friend being called "mommy".)  My friend and I spent a lot of time together when I was in my early twenties.  She is one of the most giving people I know.  When I needed a place to stay until the end of the 2004-2005 school year, she allowed me to live at her house. Since all of the rooms at her house were full, she offered me her couch. Even though I didn't have a bedroom to sleep in, I was so thankful to have had the opportunity to stay with her for almost three months. Ironically, that time in my life contained some of my fondest memories. Because of my time with my friend, I learned how to play drums, had a sushi-making party, and wrote some very deep poetry on cocktail napkins. She and I have many memories together, and I am really looking forward to making more.

It is the end of my third week living in San Diego, and I am feeling very, very good about being here. It was a difficult decision to make, but with some of the recent memories that I've been able to make with my "old" friends and family and knowing that there are more to come (along with the fact that work has been an incredible adventure), it becomes more apparent that it was the right decision.

My Freedom in Dependence

As Americans celebrate their freedom on their Independence Day- I am reminded of my freedom in being dependent on what Christ has done for me.  I know I cannot be "good enough" to be worthy of the perfection of heaven (more on this in a future blog entry called "Life Preservers"), so I have put my faith in the loving sacrifice of Jesus and his promise to be the replacement for my sinful life. It is not an excuse to do whatever I want. When I think of the freedom I have in Christ, part of that freedom reminds me of the freedom that I have in my marriage.

Just like in my joining someone else's life through marriage, I am free from many things, and there are also some "freedoms" that I no longer have in my life. Some of the things I no longer do because I am married are "freedoms" that I might miss during my selfish times, but they are "freedoms" that I can and probably should live without.  When I remember that having a relationship with Christ and depending on Him provides the ultimate freedom through a mutual love, I am not worried about what I can and can't do. In my dependence on Him, I feel (and am) free. 

The following song is a beautiful way to express how Christians are free in our dependence.

Youtube version of the song (for auditory people): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CJX4NT6jMw

Lyrics of the song (for visual people): 

So long I had searched for life's meaning,

Enslaved by the world and my greed;

Then the door of the prison was opened by love,

For the ransom was paid - I was free.
I'm free from the fear of tomorrow,

I'm free from the guilt of the past;

For I've traded my shackles for a glorious song,

I'm Free! Praise the Lord! Free at last!

I'm free from the guilt that I carried,

From that dull empty life I'm set free;

For when I met Jesus,

He made me complete,

He forgot how foolish I used to be.

[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/im-free-lyrics-bill-gaither.html ]