From Cairn to Cairn

One ________ at a time. I first learned it through open water swimming. One stroke at a time. There are days when the water is calm and warm, and the swim is easy. I can enjoy watching the hermit crabs scuttle on the sand below me, and allow my mind to drift. Then there are days when the waters are rough and jagged. I'm tossed side to side by the waves, I swallow salt water, and I battle the current the entire time. These are the days I must take the swim one stroke at a time. I look for the orange buoys ahead. If I make it to one, I can make it to the next.

I learned something similar from the mountains this past weekend. My uncle, who has lots of hiking experience, agreed to take me hiking along the Presidential Range. It was a challenging experience, mentally more than physically. I found that in the mountains, even more so than in the ocean, you never know what is going to get thrown your way.

Our first two days of hiking were beautiful. It was clear and sunny, but not hot. Hiking along the ridge on Saturday, we could see for miles. We stayed at the Lakes of the Clouds hut that night, and overnight the mountain quickly reminded us of its strength. With 60mph winds blowing against the hut all night, it sounded like a war zone outside. From my bottom bunk, I tried to tell myself that I liked the wind. I loved storms. But every time I listened to the wind, I felt a pit in my stomach as I thought about having to hike in that weather outside, over 5000ft in elevation, in just a few hours.

When I got up a few hours later, the weather hadn't gotten better. We put on all our rain gear, bundled up in layers (significantly lightening our packs) and stepped outside, where I was promptly nearly blown over. I felt like I did the first time I swam at Nauset Beach, with the big waves: frozen with fear. Except this felt scarier, because I wasn't in water. I was in open air, with nothing to catch my fall. On top of that, neither my uncle or I could see the trail because visibility was so poor. We went back inside, questioning whether we should continue. After a hut crew member pointed us in the direction of the trail, though, we figured as long as we could keep on the path, we could get down.

That's when we began our cairn to cairn trek. Cairns are piles of rocks that are used to help mark the trail above tree line. For two miles, we were exposed to the winds. There were moments when the wind was so strong, all I could do was stand my ground, grip hard on my uncle's hiking pole, close my eyes, and wait for the gust of wind to pass. Other times we had to hold hands through the wind and make it to the next big rock, where we could take shelter for a minute. The whole time, we just kept setting landmarks for ourselves. One cairn at a time. If we could make it to one cairn, we could make it to another. One step at a time.

I'm learning that's how I can get myself through my moments of anxiety. When my mind starts spinning, I need to slow it down by looking at what's immediately in front of me. I can't think about what I'm going to have for dinner or how tired I might be tomorrow or how I'm going to finish everything on my to-do list. I just need to take it one step at a time, put one foot in front of the other, and site the next cairn ahead.

Merging In

"Just inch out into the road. Relax. Take a deep breath. Check both ways. You're clear. Drive." All my life, I have been used to "following." I question myself about everything, even when I know that I know what to do. I realized this particularly when I was learning to drive.

ME: Dad, can I go now?
DAD: Yes. The light is green. Green means "go."

ME: Mom, do I signal?
MOM: You're switching lanes. Yes, you signal.

One of the hardest things for me to learn has been merging into oncoming traffic. I second-guessed myself. I didn't trust myself to move unless someone else told me to.

As soon as I started driving by myself, that changed. Fast. The first time I drove by myself I forgot I had to drive around the rotary downtown. "You know what to do," I heard Mom say inside my head. "Think about your next move. Trust yourself."

This summer, I feel as if I've been merging into my own life. I've mused in previous posts about the newfound independence I've acquired over the past few months, between obtaining my license, traveling alone, and now as a working girl. I've found that with this independence also comes a new rhythm––my own rhythm.

In previous summers, I have followed my parents' schedule. When they swam, I swam. When they ran, I ran. When they ate, I ate. This summer, I'm not able to do this. I have my own schedule. I work during the day, I perform in a community theatre production of Les Mis at night. I have to run and swim when I have time to run and swim. Sometimes there are days I'm not able to fit in a run or a swim, because I choose to prioritize memorizing my lines, or reading, or taking the time to write. Or napping. Sometimes I need a nap.

I've also been making a lot of my own meals lately. My dinner tonight was one of my favorites so far.

I stopped by work on my way home from play rehearsal to pick up a portabella mushroom with my 20% employee discount. I brushed it with olive oil and cooked it in the oven until it was soft. Meanwhile, I sautéed kale, green beans, snap peas, zucchini, and tomatoes from our garden. When everything was cooked, I flipped the mushroom so that its belly faced up, and blanketed it with the kale leaves. Then I filled it with the other veggies. To top it off, I sprinkled grated asiago cheese over the mushroom and the plate, and added a nasturtium on the side for decoration.

After setting the table and taking many pictures, I finally sat down to eat...the food was only a little cold. 

Okay...so now you're probably thinking that I only wrote this post as a sly way of sneaking in pictures of my dinner. But I actually started the post the other night and never finished it, and when I cooked dinner tonight, I realized these pictures accompanied the post perfectly. And here's why: I'm on my own this summer more than I ever have been before. I'm starting to think more for myself. I love to be active...so I run and swim and bike, even when it's on my own. I love good food. So when I have the time, I don't just grab cereal from the cupboard or throw in a frozen pizza...I take the time to cook something for myself. 

When it comes down to it, I'm learning how to take care of myself. It has certainly been an adjustment these past few weeks...but I'm slowly releasing my foot off the break. I look both ways. And I go. 

Freshman Year

Freshman year...check. It's true when they say that time flies a lot faster as you get older. No longer are the times when the two days before you could go over for friend's house to bake cookies seemed like weeks; gone are the days when you made paper chains to count down until your birthday or Christmas. The Taylor Swift calendar in my bedroom still reads March, and before that it read January.

It seems like only yesterday I walked into Music class late because I misread my schedule and ended up in a class of seniors (classic first day of high school). I remember so many individual days so vividly: lunchtime conversations, late nights (many late nights) of homework, a hard track workout, a play rehearsal. The individual days seemed to move by slow, but the weeks and the months rushed by so now I sit on my couch in Cape Code, typing away with the blue sky outside and nothing to distract me from what I love to do most: write, run, swim, and be by the beach.

I started this blog freshman year as a way to make a commitment to my writing. Here I have this faint vision, this vague idea of what I want to do with my life; somewhere in the distance I can see the finish line. Ever since 3rd grade when my teacher first inspired me to write, I think it's been there. In fact, it's probably been there my entire life, it just took me a little while to find it.

We all have a destiny, and life is about getting on the path to take us there. Some of our paths may be more direct than others; some people may need to travel on some very windy roads and at one point in our lives we will all probably have to make a U-turn. Sometimes we'll take the highway, sometimes we'll take the back roads. We may have to climb some hills in our life, but just remember as you're trudging along that there's always a downhill after to cruise on. At times we may run out of gas or a tire may go flat, and at this point it is time to pull over to the breakdown lane and reevaluate the situation. Not everyone is going to be a friendly driver; not everyone is going to let you pass. We'll probably all be honked at and/or pulled over at some point in our lives, but we have to accept that we're only human, and we're going to make mistakes. A ticket is not the end of the world, it's just a reminder that helps us stay on the right path. There may be a time we take the road with the cross signs, and we may ignore the "Danger Ahead" warnings. We may think we're too cool or know better than the "Stop" signs or the traffic lights, but we'll realize there are rules for a reason.

In light of my extended and hopefully not exhausted metaphor about the path of life, I thought I'd share a poem with you by Robert Frost, where he reflects upon the path he's chosen.

http://www.daily-manna.com/inspirations/the-road-not-taken

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

Robert Frost

Coming full-circle, I started this blog in hopes that it would help me figure out who I was. We come into high school with so much prospect, possibility, potential. We are a slab of clay, just waiting to be molded, and it is in high school we start to meet those people, come across those places, and experience those events that begin to shape us into who we are. But coming out of freshman year, I still feel like I'm so far from figuring out who I am. I know my future has something with writing in it, but writing is such a broad field that I can take anywhere. I still don't know where I belong, but I think this blog brings me one step closer.

Self-reflections are important––although sometimes I may self-reflect too much, driving myself (and my Mom) a little batty. My favorite part about a birthday, the summer, a new year, is sitting back and thinking about what I learned. Freshman year was a big adjustment year, between the increased homework load, new friends, new commitments, and new passions. I've had to do a lot of self-evaluation, as I reflected upon in my post, Redefining Me. I've realized that I love theatre, and that I might want to tip the theatre vs. sports scale a little more toward theatre, despite my reputation as a track athlete.

Sometimes I wish someone would just show me a path, hand me a map, point me in the right direction. Chances are, though, I'll probably spend my entire life trying to find the best route. At some point, I will find my center point. I've begun doing Sun Salutation (Surya Namaskaar) in the morning, and I've found it to be a relaxing way to start my day. It gives me time to reflect and think about the day to come, as I ask to find my balance, and to find joy and happiness in all that I do. I acknowledge that I will make mistakes, and I make a promise to embrace change. I vow to live in the moment, think fondly on the past, and optimistically about the future. Every day is a new opportunity to get oneself on the path they are destined to take.

Take the time to reflect today. Do you have any advice for how to find your path? Do you have any morning routines? How do you find balance?

Here's hoping you all find your path someday,

Megan xo

P.S.  It's about time "Did you notice..." was updated, don't you think?

Redefining Me

http://thephlebotomycertification.com/phlebotomy-definition.html

Definitions are a constant. They're something we can understand, something we can cling to, something that is universally accepted. They're comforting. I know no matter where I go in the world, a plate is going to be a flat dish which food is served and eaten on. No matter if it is called plato, piastra, or assiette. A plate is a plate. That's never going to change. And it's comforting to know that; to know that some things in this world do stay the same. 

Definitions are also a way of explaining things. It gives us a way to identify something. It would be a very confusing world if everything was simply accepted without any rhyme or reason. "Well, why? Why is that furry fabric a coat? Why not a rug? Why not a blanket?" Think about how often little kids ask the question, "Why?" They want to know why about everything. Little kids are smart. "Why should I believe you? Give me one good reason." They want an explanation; they want a definition.

In our society, we tend to like to define people, too. Think of all the labels we put on people. The athletes, the techies, the punks, the divas, the "populars", the geeks, the theatre kids, the artsy kids, the list goes on and on. We're all guilty of it. Even on this blog my posts are labeled based on common themes. Why do we do this? Why do we label? Because it's a way for us to try and organize everything in our brains. Our brains like to see things in neat boxes, stacked one on top of the other, and labeled. It's easier that way. No questions asked. It just is.

The problem with labels is that we tend to attach ourselves to them. There's a comfort in knowing so and so as the track captain, as the dancer, whatever it may be. All of a sudden when they change, sometimes it's hard for our brain to reconfigure where they "fit in." A baseball coach sees a promising pitcher when the boy is in 5th grade and gets excited. He trains him, he brings him far. Everyone knows the boy for being the star pitcher. Of course he'll go into the MLB when he's older. But then high school comes around and the boy tries track, and he realizes he likes track so much better. He has to choose between baseball and track. In his heart, he knows the track is where he wants to be. But everyone knows him to be the star pitcher. He is the star pitcher. 

But just because he was a star pitcher throughout middle school, does that mean he has to be the star pitcher in high school? Who would he be pitching for? Himself, or everyone else? He can only live his life for himself. We can only live our lives for ourself. People may say, "What a shame. You had so much potential." People may be angry, disappointed, but it doesn't matter. Your true friends, the people who really matter, know you for you and will love you unconditionally. As Dr. Seuss wrote, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." The fact is, you can put labels on food produce, but you can't put them on people, because people change. Who you were in kindergarten most likely is different from who you are now. That's okay. In fact, it's probably a good thing! 

High school is all about redefining who we are. It's the time to try new things, experiment, expand our horizons. Just because we loved something last year, doesn't mean we have to do it for the rest of our lives. We may find something we like better down the road, and just because it happened "down the road," does that mean we should stay on the path we're on because that's all we've ever known? Because we're "satisfied?" Or should we take a bit of a risk and try something new? Verge off and travel down the path where we won't just be "satisfied" but we'll be happy? 

In 5th grade I wrote a poem titled, "Who Am I?" (I apologize for the amateur writing and the lack of poetic quality, but I thought the message was valid.)

Who Am I?

"Who am I?" 

I often asked my father.

"You are a superstar,"

Was one of his many wise replies.

"Who am I?"

Was what I asked my friend when I wanted a compliment

And she was always willing to give me one.

"You are a kind and giving, and understanding friend," was one of my favorites.

"Who am I?"

Was what I asked my teacher when I wanted to know about my future,

And she would reply, "You are a girl with a brilliant, and wonderful future."

"Who am I?"

Was what I asked my grandmother when I was in need of a hug,

And she would embrace me and say, "You are the reflection of God himself."

"Who am I?"

Was what I asked my mother one day when I was wondering how other people saw me

And this time I didn't hear one of the usual compliments.

Instead I heard, "You are you, and it doesn't matter what I, or what others think of you."

"All that matters is what you think of yourself."

I thought for a moment, and then finally understood what my mother was saying.

So from that day on, I never asked my father, or anyone else, "Who am I?"

Instead, I asked myself, "Who am I?"

And I soon realized that my responses were what comforted me the most.

Because I no longer had to worry about what others would say when I asked them, "Who am I?"

All I had to do was think of the positive things about myself.

And in reality, like my mother said, that was all that really mattered.

It seems like in 5th grade I had a pretty good idea about whose opinion mattered most in defining who I am. Maybe I've gone backwards since 5th grade. I wish I could say the last stanza was true, because I find myself constantly seeking for reassurance about who I am, where I fit into this big world. I guess the main thing to keep in mind is that even how I define myself now in high school will likely change as I grow older. Life is all about redefining. It would be boring if it stayed the same all the time! (I sound like a hypocrite saying this because I struggle so much with change, but I know it's true.)

No matter how old or young you are, it's never too late to redefine who you are. That's why we call them crazy dreams. They may seem crazy, they may seem scary, we may not even be able to explain them. And that's exactly why we should follow them.

Sweet Crazy Dreams,

Megan ;)

A Change of Pace

http://halftraining.com/understanding-your-natural-running-pace/

Giggle, swish, skip, swoon, exaggerate, sigh, flirt, smile. Dainty, light, airy, ditzy, big, sweet, adoring, British. For the past four months, these have been the main words in my vocabulary. My life as a Stanley daughter: Giggle like a schoolgirl, trail behind every boy you see like a lovesick puppy. Twirl your hair around your finger, bat your eyes. Flash an innocent smile. Exaggerate every motion. Make everything big (close to obnoxious...scratch that. You are obnoxious.) If you think it can be bigger, it can be bigger. Keep your voice light and airy, balance with your sisters. Love your sisters (at least pretend like you do, except when no one's looking and then break out into a brawl but if you're caught, just smile.) Love your Papa. Speak like a British girl. Everything is beautiful and oh so exciting. Skip everywhere you go. And whenever in doubt, swish. Swish, swish, swish. 

For the past four months, all I knew was curls and pretty pouffy dresses and flowers and boys and bows and stockings and Papa and the ocean and a field dotted with daises unnumbered and pirates. Way to turn that around, huh? Pirates! Like I explained last week, for the past four months, we have been working on "Pirates of Penzance," a musical by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan. My character, one of the Stanley daughters, was obnoxious and ditzy and love-crazy over every boy she saw, because until they see Frederic (the lead in the play) they have never seen a man other than their Papa and therefore are quite inexperienced about how to get their attention. It was quite a different role, but one that I fell in love with. How could I not? A pretty dress? Curly hair? Swooning and obnoxious smiling and giggling? It was impossible to come out of rehearsal in a bad mood!

But as my post last week explained, last weekend we gave it our all as we performed the songs and dance numbers and lines we had practiced for the last time. For me, this was the last time I would be standing on a stage until next fall, because track started Monday and that has always taken priority in the spring. But being at track just didn't feel right Monday. I was still on the thrill of the performance and to go from such a high-energy and fun environment to a track, which can be filled with intensity and the pressure to go fast, can be quite a downfall. I just couldn't get into my rhythm; I kept missing the play, missing the people. Missing the spontaneous singing of the cast and corny theatre jokes and stage makeup and the ability to go somewhere and be someone I'm not. On the track, I'm known for being fast, so whenever I step on the track I feel this obligation to live up to that. Hence, my love/hate relationship with it.

I'm the type of person who puts a lot of pressure on myself. It's hard for me to do something less than 100%, and often times I get burnt out. Does anyone ever feel that? Get burnt out even doing something they love? This season, I need to find my pace. A pace where I can have fun, be fit, and if fast happens to come, then so be it. But I need to get rid of any pre-conceived visions of me with running; of how other people identify me with running. It's not worth it if I go to practice every day dreading it. No one should put that much time and effort into something they don't love. Life's too short.

This week, with the rapid change in pace, I've been trying to take it easy. Drink lots of tea, sleep, read, and catch up on the things that I love (like writing :) ). Next week hopefully I'll get back into a rhythm and get into my zone, find my lane. Whatever it is you do, I hope you love it. Of course there will be days when you don't, but if the bad days start to outnumber the good, you might want to rethink if it's really the best use of your time. Or change your approach. You may just be putting too much pressure on yourself, and sometimes a change of perspective or taking a break can make a huge difference. As they say, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Most likely, if you take a step back and don't think so much, success or happiness or speed or whatever it may be will come without you even consciously trying! And hopefully, you'll be happier.

Sweet Dreams,

Megan ;)

P.S. "Did you notice?" is updated. As always, thanks to all those who participate! It's so fun reading what you find!