2011: Taking Stock of Change
How much can a person change? I have listened to and been involved in debates about this.
A powerful argument can be made for innate characteristics that cannot be changed.
A powerful argument can also be made for the power of self-determination.
I don't want to argue. All I can do is tell my story. It is a story of change.
I have changed. There were times in my life when I had to tell myself that the most heroic thing some people can do is stay alive and keep on keeping on. For me the choice was to be there for my kids.
Even in the dark. Even in the uncertainty. Even with little or no trust that things would change.
[years of depression, supporting my kids on welfare as I went through university, too many reasons not to trust to count ...]
And many of you could never imagine it had been so dark for me once. And I could never have once imagined the good that would come to my life. But things do change.
This year, in the wake of divorce, loss of mother, moving homes, changing jobs...I see clearly the beauty of a lifetime of change again. If you can use the pain to propel you to action, things change. These 3 years have included changes I would not have chosen, but I used them as impetus to try new things. Hundreds of kids are now discovering the joy of gardening, for instance. And, as you know, I also travelled around the world, partly to discover new dimensions of myself. What I found was astonishing.
I found a planet full of love! Obviously, I chose not to visit places where the most disturbing things were happening, and there is misery, and I did find myself in the middle of a political uprising in Malaysia. And guess what? In the midst of that, I found some of the most compassionate and joyful people I will ever know! I am so grateful I had the type of experiences I had.
Each new experience has caused more change...
Example: I arrived in Istanbul from Kuala Lumpur at 5 a.m. on a red-eye flight following said Political uprising (in the midst of which I sprained my wrist & had to be taken to the hospital). I was exhausted.
I had received directions for getting to my hotel in the Historic District via trains. Unfortuantely, Istanbul airport was one of the few places I went that had no signage in English. I found my way to the entrance to the trains, but the turnstile was locked without a token and I could not understand how to obtain one. A family pointed to a machine on the wall, but they spoke no English. The machine only took Lire. I went off to hunt for an ATM. Returning with Lire, I could only guess how much to use. I got lucky and got 1 token. I slipped the token into the slot on the turnstile and then wrestled my bags and myself through. The train arrived at just that moment and it was relieving to climb aboard...or cram myself in! Packed in with mostly men (wondered where all the Turkish women were, at home?) I watched carefully for a sign for my train change that matched the words in my directions. I got off at the right place and found to my dismay that I was stuck! You needed a token to get out through the turnstile there and there was no place to buy one. It turned out that I was supposed to have retained the previous token! Stuck on a train "island" in a crowd...who knows where...in Turkey. So, I did something I found useful a number of times on the trip: I yelled "Does anyone speak English? I am stuck!"
Immediately, three young Turks came up to me smiling. They reminded me of my son. They spoke little English, but were obviously proud to claim some. After a number of exchanges, I was pretty sure they understaood my plight. They spoke in Turkish amongst themselves for a bit, then one of them said to me, "Don't worry, you are on our team now!" Then I noticed that they were wearing matching uniforms. They were all members of the Algerian Kickboxing team! They were home on vacation.
He showed me a card and helped me understand that it would cover all of us on the trains. The men grabbed my bags and took me by the arm, guiding me to a gate where they got the attendant to let me through. They popped me up onto the next train (their train, too) and made men vacate a couple of seats so I could sit in comfort. They held my bags protectively. I said, "You remind me of my son!" They beamed. They found out where I was going, which was farther than their stop, and helped me understand where to disembark. They were so kind and helpful. All I could do in return is give them a little Seattle skyline magnet. When I arrived at my destination, the hotel had sent another young man to meet me. What a relief! What an affirmation of good. That experience changed me again.
OK, I know there are plenty of reasons to be cautious and not to trust. But that is not the lesson I have needed. The lesson I have needed is trust... and I had a chance to learn that one. And a chance to become an honorary member of the Algerian Kickboxing team.
