My Thoughts on 30

One of my favorite songs is still Strawberry Wine by Deanna Carter. I know every word of that entire album actually. It's this lyric, among others, that stuck with me when I first heard it in 1996... (HOLY crap. That was almost 20 years ago.)

I still remember when thirty was old.

I used to hear that and think "... still remember?!? I STILL think 30 is old."

And now here I am. 30. Wow.

I feel like turning older is one of those things that can be scary in the abstract and then the second that you are there you think, "Huh. Cool. I'm thirty." For me this birthday has been such a great time of reflection and the thing that I keep coming back to is how GRATEFUL I am. It is permeating me and choking me out in the best way. When I am not at work there is not an hour that goes by where I don't stop and think either aloud or quietly, "I am so damn lucky. Look at all that I have. How did I get to be so annoyingly cheesily hashtag blessed?" The answer comes fast and furious from the ego: "Because you worked your ass off. You worked on yourself and you continue to do so." While this is a true statement Mr. Ego, when I am able to shut you up for a second, the answer becomes more true.

I am blessed by being in community with other people. By being vulnerable with them and with myself. By exercising forgiveness for myself and for others. By letting things go nearly immediately. By no longer having to work so dang hard at being in the moment. By not taking things so personally and by understanding that everyone's actions that slight me AREN'T ABOUT ME.

I frequently say things like, "You've got to do the work and own your own shit." Or, "You get the right to make your life look the way that you want it to look. No matter what ANYONE thinks." But my most favorite go to when talking to friends who are having issues is, "THAT AIN'T ABOUT YOU KID." Cause it's not. When your parents fight and throw fits about not spending enough time with them or doing it the exact way they want you to... that isn't about YOU! That is their crap. Their ego, their insecurities, their fears being projected onto you.

When people say things that categorically aren't true about you (i.e., you didn't invite me to your wedding... when in truth, I have the calligrapher's receipt for that invitation, I mailed said invitation, and said invitation was never returned to me), the phrase that allows me to let it go is that that lie IS NOT ABOUT ME. Even though it seems to be. Even though the subject of said lie appears to be directly and categorically about me.

But. It isn't.

That is their crap. It is insecurity run amok. And it's not my job to fix it. It is not a reflection about who I am or what my heart is or what my intentions with others ever are.

And for clarification, my only intention EVER is to make others lives better. My actions are still working to line up with that intention all of the time, but I am working on it.

So those are the things that I am reflecting on after 30 years of life. Gratitude and separating others crap from my own. It might not seem like much (those two blessings) but MAN OH MAN did I work for 30 hard years to be aware of those two simple principles.

Sometimes I Learn Things on Public Transit

I take a train and a bus to get to work (don't worry, it only takes me about 25 minutes).  The train is SILENT in the mornings and it really is lovely.  It is odd when there is noise on said train and my fellow commuters don't take these random disruptions lightly. I, however, find the odd interruption entertaining. However, this morning's interruption, which came on the bus portion as we were cruising past restaurants, shops, and more restaurants, made me sad. As I was sitting listening to the quiet chatter on the bus, I heard two homeless men speaking to each other. They could not have been older than 30. As we passed a restaurant, homeless man #1 said, "Blllluuuueee. Blue. I think that is a waffle bar." (It's not. It's an Asian place)

Homeless man #2 said: "You sure that says Blue? I think it says SOUL, which makes more sense as a waffle bar."

The two let it drop and moved on. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because here is the thing: these two men cannot read. They are homeless, under 30, and cannot read. Are they homeless because educational opportunities weren't there for them? Or did the lack of education lead to drug abuse/self-abuse which led to homelessness? Or were they always struggling readers and they never had a teacher stop the whole "let's just shove them through to the next grade" craziness that happens (I tried to hold a kiddo back, but my incompetent principal shoved her on to the next grade)? So that one day, these guys are in the 9th grade and still cannot read. So that one day, instead of going to school, they just ditch to go get high/cause trouble/be sad/numb their pain at their "failures"?

I used to be a teacher and I think I was a decent one. I cared more about my students that I thought was humanly possible and I still carry them with me to this day. When I hear two homeless guys who can't read, I am all too aware that that STILL could be one of my kids. Who did I miss? What did I not see?

I've learned that I need to be nicer in my mind to homeless people. I need to get back to giving them food.  I also learned that I have a few emails and phone calls that I need to make happen this week. A few students who need me still. So, I will do that in honor of these two guys on the bus this morning.