Jumping in again…

Today I read an article about feeding your soul. Then, by chance, I got a notification that someone liked one of my posts. Serendipity? You bet!

In July 2020, I wrote a post about ‘jumping back’ to writing. I just read that post. I was so excited about getting back. I was full of ideas and excitement. But then…nothing happened. I just quit posting. I found out that I have written a ‘private’ post about ‘legacy’ and thoughts about what I wished to accomplish during my last two years of my career. I was hoping to write along my journey, but that didn’t happen.

It’s hard to recreate two years! I know I succeeded in what I had planned and wished to do. I know I worked really hard to build a legacy that I can be proud of. There is no reason to look back. I decided to move forward and continue my ‘soul’ journey, which is the reason I started this blog. I just want to write and get in touch with my ‘soul’ again.

I finally retired in May of 2022. That chapter of my life is done. I was given a beautiful ‘send away’ party (virtual due to Covid still lingering in the background). After that wonderful experience, I thought I might get back to writing, as I was getting what I wished for the most – endless time.

But life didn’t evolve the way I thought. I found myself ‘free’ with an endless amount of time. After 30 long years of an intense career where I devoted all my energy and passion, I needed to just rest and recover.

My loving husband also retired. Instead of writing, I devoted my time to travel planning. We love to travel and we have acquired a new hobby – camping – so we took on the road and have had a lot of wonderful camping trips since our retirement.

Now that I think about it, I realize that one of the reasons why I stopped writing is because we got into camping due to the pandemic of 2020. We had so many trips planned before the pandemic…but life with COVID had other plans. We ended up cancelling all our planned trips and decided to get into camping – like many other people out there. Camping seemed safe.

Our camping experience began with renting an RV in September 2020. It only took a couple of trips – with rental units – to convince us to buy a camper. But of course, we couldn’t just get any camper. We ended up buying a restoration project in October 2020. And that’s what happened after my last post. We found out a new hobby that took us into a new life journey. Her name is ‘Willow’ and I’m sure I will write more about her later.

For now, I’m just happy to be back here writing! A new chapter has been started in retirement and I’m sure there will be a lot of opportunities to explore and feed my soul.

Everything I learned in Fifth Grade

A couple of recent events made me think about the human need for validation. Why do we sometimes worry or care about what others might think of us. Why do we feel that we need validation from others? As part of my soul-searching journey, I realize that I have experienced the need for validation throughout my life.

I also have been thinking about my reactions when I observe what I consider an unfair act. I get very upset when I detect signs of unfairness. This happens not only when I perceive unfair actions toward me, but to anyone around me.

I sensed that these thoughts were somewhat connected. I decided to dig deeper into them. I wondered what mysteries could be hidden in my psyche that prompted the need for validation and my fiery reaction against injustice. I wanted to confront my thoughts head on, with honesty. I wanted to expose the good and the ugly. Honesty will lead the way to learning about who I am.

“Not everything that surfaces as part of our soul-searching is pleasant or graceful, but it will have value if it is honest.”

As is always the case, we usually react to what happens around us based on our experiences. Our experiences through life shape our values, our personalities, and our soul. We are not always proud of our actions, but we can always learn from them.

“Unmasking the past is sometimes necessary to be able to move forward, and hopefully, to a better self.”

After much reflection, I realized that I needed to go back to my fifth grade. I knew all along that an important event occurred during my fifth grade. This is not the first time that I think about that day. But giving it some additional deliberation during this journey of self-reflection revealed a lot more that I have ever discovered previously. I saw an inevitable connection between my fifth grade experience and how I have acted every single day after that. Suddenly I found answers to my questions of validation and fairness.

I did very well in school. I was an ‘A’ student from kindergarten to my senior year, where I was the valedictorian of my class. The graduating class was small – 25 students – and most of us have been together since kindergarten. I went to a private school – an all girls school. My parents did not have a lot of money, but they used everything they had to support our education. They worked very hard all their life to give my sister and I everything we needed – their most important gift was the gift of education. My mom was a nurse and my dad was an accountant.

My fifth grade teacher was a big and tall woman with a permanent frown on her face. She used to wear a two-piece grey uniform, consisting of a vest and skirt. The only color in her outfit was the daily changing blouse under the gray vest. But there were no flowers or prints, just solid, muted colors barely noticed against all the gray. For a 10-year old, she was like an ogre in a fairy tale. Everyone was frightened when entering the classroom, quietly sitting in the desks and avoiding any conversation unless asked to speak. No one wanted to get into trouble.

One day, the teacher announced a prize for the best student in class. What happened after the announcement changed me forever. She did not call my name. I knew my grades. I knew that I was the top student in the class, but she called someone else’s name. I was 10 years old. I did not know what to think or what to do. My mind was somewhere between confusion and disbelief. All I remember is that I was hurt. I could not wait to leave school that day. When I arrived home I told my mom. The other student that received the prize was the daughter of one of the school’s board of trustees.

That single experience and my mom’s reaction defined who I am today. My mom was furious. She could not believe that the top student prize was given to someone else. She also knew very well my grades. My mom was not going to stand silent against the injustice and the next day she roared to the school to talk with the principal and the teacher. Until that day, I would have considered my mom a very quiet and calm person. But that day she became a lioness. She was defending her cub and she was fierce. I have not seen my mom behave that way before. But I knew my sister and I were the world for my parents. Everything they did, they did for us. If we were ever in danger they will come to our rescue without question.

I do not remember much about what happened after my mom’s historical visit to the school. I do not know if I also got a prize. I assumed they gave me something else, instead of taking the prize from the other student. I really did not care much about the actual prize because the experience around it was already hurtful. I learned many lessons that eventually morphed into my personality.

“Our experiences define our past but our choices define our future.”

I believe that I have felt the need for validation throughout my life because of my fifth grade experience. Maybe I could have learned a different lesson, or my mom could have explained the situation different. I will always carry this experience within me. But now I understand the roots of where my feelings come from. Shedding light into the past provided an opportunity to understand that the reaction could have been different. As a child, I did not have much of a choice, as the characteristics of my personality were developing through my parent’s eyes. But now I have my own eyes. I can choose how I behave. I can understand that the need for validation might be a human characteristic, but not necessarily needed at all times. I know better. I now have a choice on how I want my experiences to impact my future.

I also learned that day about my mom’s strength and spirit. My absolute refusal to stand silent against injustice derives from observing my mom’s irrefutable devotion to defend her loved one against injustice. I adopted these characteristics from my mom and I am proud of them. Like my mom, I become a lioness when a loved one is in danger. I also feel compelled to stand for fairness in everything that happens around me. It is many times frustrating – life is not always fair – but I never want to quit to stand for what I believe in and to defend others that might need my help. For this passion, I thank my mom.

I wonder…

While walking…

Feelings of anxiety, fear, uneasiness, discomfort.

Based on what’s happening to others that look like me around the country.

I wonder if those feelings of hatred are also around me?

As I walk around my town…

Hatred has been encouraged.

Division is rampant in our country.

I wonder…

Who’s on my side?

What others in the other side think when they see me?

Is my life in danger?

Will I ever know that my life is in danger?

Will I only know that my life was in danger after something happens?

After I don’t have any recourse or anyway of protecting myself?

I wonder…

I don’t want to feel this way.

It’s exhausting to feel this way.

We all have challenges in our lives.

I don’t want this extra burden.

I don’t want to be fearful, anxious, uncomfortable, uneasy.

I don’t want to wonder.

I don’t want to wonder but I don’t think I have been given a choice.

Based on who I am,

I’ve been forced to wonder.

I’ve been forced to deal with a reality that I don’t like, but it exists around me.

I wish I could be different.

I wish I could be in a more peaceful place.

I wish I wouldn’t have these thoughts today.

The wondering thoughts drain my energy.

The wondering thoughts drain my soul.

A heavy burden.

Sometimes I wish I had a lighter load.

My mind wanders to places that are painful.

The suffering of others causes pain.

The unfairness in the world causes pain.

There’s heaviness in my heart.

In my mind.

In my soul.

As I wonder, as my mind wanders.

I’m blessed with love, others are not in this world.

Maybe that’s what I should tell myself, to lessen the pain…

When my mind wonders.

How blessed I am having love in my life, unconditional, pure love!

But my mind wanders.

My thoughts in 1984 – A time capsule found

Last week, as I was digging into a drawer, I found a time capsule from 1984.  My discovery, as I opened the pink binder adorned with flowers, was exhilarating.  Inside the binder were traces of my life from 35 years ago.  More astounding were the memories that took life again as I opened the treasure.

The year 1984 marked important events in my life.  I graduated from college in Puerto Rico that year.  I also transitioned into my new life in Michigan, as I departed Puerto Rico to attend graduate school.  These two very important events were forever linked into the binder, reflecting a turn in my life that will forever change me.  Or maybe not?

What was perplexing is that while going through the pieces of paper that I carefully folded and kept for years to come, I discovered that my soul has not changed.  Despite the many life turns and experiences during 35 years, I could easily relate to my feelings in 1984, as if time has not passed.

I felt overwhelming joy and melancholy at the same time.  I was happy to re-discover friendships impressed in greeting cards from my college days in Puerto Rico and from those who I met in graduate school.  I recognized all the names, but some are not part of my life today, bringing sadness and longing.

I read a poem from a friend, releasing emotions not forgotten.  I also read a letter meant for my college friends as I said goodbye – the paper and ink intact.  The letter touched on the many feelings of friendship that I so much wanted to leave for posterity in a piece of paper locked away in the binder.  I could not remember if I ever sent the letter to my friends.  The letter was full of emotion.  Did I had the courage to share it with my friends?  My memory failed to recall what I did, so I decided to send them the letter last week, as a reminder of my lasting love and friendship.

The binder also unveiled small cutouts with thoughts written by others.  As I read the words of wisdom, a puzzle started to come together.  The cutouts were from newsletters from my dorm during my first semester at the University of Michigan.  Since I was a teenager, I have always liked to collect quotes.  I found comfort in reading quotes that connected with my own thoughts.  It was as if strangers could read my mind – knowing who I was or wanted to be.  I ended up with a notebook full of reflections from poets and writers.  The notebook was left behind in my bedroom in Puerto Rico.   However, the urge to preserve words of wisdom, which aligned with my own beliefs, never left me.  Thus, it was not a surprise that I have continued to collect written quotes that appeared in a hidden corner of the dorm newsletter – the section entitled ‘fuzzy words.’

As I relived the memories, a realization came to mind.  The letters and cutouts from 1984 revealed a love for writing that has always being part of my soul.  The letter to my friends showed me that I always yearned to put my thoughts on paper, wanting to capture and preserve the fragile and elusive feelings of my soul.  The cutouts from the dorm newsletters illustrated my fascination for the written word.

I have always found magic in writing.  In a mystical turn of the universe, I find myself today where I was in 1984 – listening to my soul and writing my thoughts and feelings in this blog.

Because you – the reader – are also part of my journey, I wanted to share some of the quotes that I discovered in the binder.  They opened a window to where I was in 1984.  But they also connect with who I am today.  The quotes have a way to awaken the character and desires of my soul.

I hope you enjoy the quotes below, as much as I did reading them again.  I also hope that you can find inspiration for your own journey.  Enjoy!

“We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it — and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove lid.  She will never sit on a hot stove lid again, and that is well; but she will never sit on a cold one anymore.” — Mark Twain

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a little bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden path, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.  This is to have succeeded.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Why didn’t you walk around the hole,” asked the Tin Woodsman. “I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully, “my head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some brains.”  “Oh, I see.  But, after all, brains are not the best things in the world,” said the Tin Woodsman. “Have you have any?” inquired the Scarecrow.  “No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodsman, “but once I had brains, and a heart also; so having tried both, I should rather have a heart.” — The Wizard of Oz

“You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way….”And it’s much the same with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” — Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth 

“And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach.  But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.” — Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth 

 

 

Our Anniversary – Serendipity

My husband and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday, as we do every year.  This is not the usual wedding anniversary, but a celebration of the day we met – February 12, 1993.

It has been 26 years since we met at a St. Valentine’s party at the clubhouse of the apartment complex where we both lived.  It was a wintry night.  I remembered vividly what I was wearing.  I loved my creamy white sweater that my sister gave me for my birthday a couple of months before – perfect for the cold February night.  I also wore a long golden chain necklace with an iridescent white oval pendant – also a gift from my sister to accompany my birthday sweater.

Saturday night arrived and I did not have anything else to do, so I went to the party.  I do not remember how much debate went on my mind before I decided to attend.  I would not consider myself the ‘social’ type, so I do not remember me going to many gatherings at the clubhouse.  Maybe this was the only one?  But it did not matter what happened before that night or how much thought went into my decision.  The truth is that destiny was taking hold of my life and serendipity was my guide.

There were a few dozen people at the party.  Some came and went quickly after going through the food line.  Others lingered.  I do not remember the crowd, but I will never forget the moment when my life changed forever.  I met my soul mate.

I remember sitting in the living room area of the clubhouse, with maybe three or four people around me.  We were introducing ourselves and suddenly I heard four words that raised my level of attention.

“I am from Idaho,” my (now) husband said.

And that was the start of our soul relationship.  Not many people know about Idaho, but I did.  I lived in Idaho a couple of years after graduating from graduate school.  I have just recently returned back to Michigan when we met.  In fact, I lived in the same town where my husband was from.  And it got even more astonishing as we continued to talk through the night.  Everyone else around us began to disappear as my senses focused on only one person in the room.

It was serendipity.  We do not have any doubts about that.  We were meant to meet at that particular time and place.  We learned that we worked at the same company and office building in Idaho for several months during the summer of 1992, when my husband was doing a summer internship.  He worked for a different department, but our sections were not that far apart in the building.  In fact, when he described one of the summer projects, I remembered seeing a display about it.  But we never met there.  It was not the right time.  Then we started exchanging names of friends and acquaintances from Idaho.  Later on I learned that my previous boss in Idaho knew my father-in-law relatively well.  One more thing.  I found out that my father-in-law also worked for the same company.

After the wondrous evening, we began to realize that we have shared personal connections that were hard to believe or understand, if not for their magical meaning.  We never met in Idaho because it would not have worked then.  Many of my friends and family questioned why I took the job in Idaho.  Now I know, and they know, why.  I needed to be in Idaho so I can experience my husband’s hometown in preparation for our fateful meeting on February 12, 1993.  I liked my job in Idaho very much.  I learned a lot and I was able to use my expertise in a meaningful way.  But after a couple of years, I felt that I needed to come back to Michigan.  Something was pulling me back.  Destiny was waiting for the right moment to spell its magic.  And it happened on that evening where two soul mates met.

Beyond the circumstances surrounding the Idaho connection, we also realized that there was a very small window of opportunity for our souls to bond.  My husband closed on the house that we live in a week after we met.  He had already decided to move on from the apartment and had put an offer on a house.  I did not exist in his life when he bought the house.  He was prepared to take the big step of home ownership as a single man.  If it was not for the stars aligning on February 12, we probably would not have met.  It was meant to be on that day.  I popped up in my husband’s life just in time, and the rest is history.

We started dating immediately.  He asked me to a hockey game – my first hockey game ever!  He brought me a hockey sweatshirt for me to wear to the game.  I still have the sweatshirt!  We went to movies, dinners, antique shows, car shows, jazz concerts, and many other events.  He got me involved in car racing, although I already had a soft spot for cars because of my dad.  The love of cars was yet one other thing we had in common.  We became, and still are, inseparable.  We enjoyed each other’s company during our dating years – and still do today.  There are many things that I would like to write about our love relationship.  I will get into more details later.  For now, I wanted to focus on how we met.

I have always believed in magic.  I believe that the unbelievable is possible.  I believe in the impossible.  I believe that there is a force in the universe that sometimes gives a nudge to make things happen just right.  We were blessed by that magic.

My husband and I are soul mates.  We were meant to be together.  We believe that our love is special and forever.  After 26 years together, we still hold hands, we kiss in public, we embrace each other, we hug, and we express our love in as many ways as we can.  Our eyes are always gazing at each other as they did the first time when we met.  “I love you” are the most frequently words that we tell each other every day, always with a kiss, at the beginning and end of each day.  With those words, we pay tribute and gratitude to the single point in time where our souls met and our lives became one.

And that is why we celebrate the day we met.  Nothing else would have been possible if not for that blissful day in our love history.

Thank you Universe!  Cheers to Serendipity!

 

 

 

Have I felt this before?

There is something magical about the art of creation.  It feels so exhilarating, so fulfilling.  That’s how I feel when I write.  Being in touch with my emotions, expressing my deepest feelings, my true feelings, is like nothing else that I have experienced before.  But is it that true?  Have I felt this before?

My memories started flooding my senses as I went back in time to a place that I have not forgotten.  Tears start coming down as I realize that my soul was trying to tell me something many years ago.  I tried to listen, but I was still a child and my dependent self couldn’t survive by itself.

When I was a young teenager I took art as one of my elective classes.  There was not much thought about taking that step.  There is not much thought about anything you do when you are in middle school.  I was a very good student – all As, all my life through school.  As every good student, your parents and teachers want you to focus on those hard math and science classes.  You are supposed to set your sight into something bigger than art, something more serious, more respectable.  So I never received encouragement to pursue the happiness of creation.  I probably didn’t share with my parents or my teachers how I felt when I was doing the art projects.

I never talked about the ecstasy of forming clay with my hands until the shape of an abstract sculpture takes life.  I could almost feel today my fingers working the wet clay and the smoothness of the process of creation when I let myself go.  Those pieces still live in the abandoned shelves of my childhood bedroom – testaments of another path that could have been.

I did not share with anyone the joy of smelling the oil pigments while working on my masterpiece in the garage.  The excitement of buying the tubes of colors and the pride of creating new members of the rainbow.  The awe when a new color blooms – an infinite number of possibilities as the ochre mixed with white.  A fresh shade created by my senses – an original never seen before.  The masterpiece no longer exists in this physical world, but it will never leave my mind.

I had similar brushes with art in college, where I again decided to take an art class as an elective.  This time was different though.  It was an art appreciation class where we were asked to pick an artist and study the style.  I selected a Spanish artist, El Greco.  I still remember vividly the painting that I chose to analyze, the long bodies extending to the sky and the challenge of trying to figure out what lied behind the intent of the artist.  As a writer now I realize that it is impossible to know exactly what an artist is thinking during the moment of creation.

“Art for an artist or a book for a writer are personal expressions that escape the conscious understanding of the viewer or reader; the viewer or reader can only attempt to decipher the emotions and feelings behind the creation.” — IS

But wait…there is one more memory that is awakening.  There is another time – that innocent memory of my first performance when I was in primary school and I played the organ at the Christmas show.  I was so nervous, but I felt so proud.  I did something that was creative.  It was my first meeting with the pleasure of owning the joy of art.

I didn’t know how to interpret the deep sentiments of my experiences.  I don’t even know if I understood then the meaning of the emotions – the calmness, the peacefulness, the freedom of creation.  I felt something – many things – but those feelings were foreign to me and I didn’t understand their true meaning.  No one around me took the time to ask.  Even if they have asked, I’m not sure what I would have said.

My soul attempted to rise from the depth of my being.  My soul was shouting, but the noise around me was too loud.  Those around me showed me a different path.  I became a scientist.  The voice of my soul was put aside in a corner of my brain where memories accumulated for a later time.  I left my soul behind until now.  Those memories today becoming significant as I again encounter the art of creation – the reconciliation with my soul.

My soul-searching journey uncovers an important piece of the puzzle.  It is comforting to know that the pieces are starting to come together.  The memories of the past evolve into who I am today.  My soul is happy to know that I am listening now.  I don’t need to depend on others to show me the path.  I own my destiny and I can’t wait to continue discovering the mysteries ahead.

Everything is starting to make sense!

In a Different Place

Yesterday I went back to work after the federal government shutdown ended.  I had mixed feelings about returning to work.  After more than 30 days of being furloughed (out of work), I started getting used to the idea of being home.  For me, it was like a test of what retirement could be.  I was not bored or missing work.  I focused on my writing and that brought a lot of joy.

At home during the last month, I had a lot of time to reflect about my life.  My career, and being successful at my job, has always been a big part of my life – maybe too big of a part of my life.  I have always been a responsible, dedicated, and loyal employee.  As a manager, I embraced the responsibility of taking care of others.  Eventually, that devotion and commitment took a toll on my emotional health.  I allowed my career to dominate and define my life.

The last few years have been tough, especially after my dad passed in 2016.  Besides the grief and emotional strain of losing my dad, I also started reflecting on my career.  I observed organizational issues that bothered me and spent a lot of energy deciphering the best way to address the issues.  These have been difficult times.  In addition to management concerns, I was having a very tough time confronting the open disdain for minorities and Hispanics in this country, which compounded the pain.  As a Hispanic in this country, I felt attacked and disrespected.  The messages coming from the highest levels of the new Administration revealed a tone that made me feel uncomfortable.  I was a government employee and the political rhetoric around minority issues impacted me at a personal level.  My self-confidence was shaken.

During the recent shutdown and my stay at home, I found relaxation and peace.  I feared going back to work and getting back to a place that would trigger sadness and distress.  But I feel that I changed.  I am in a different place.  The start of my blog and the freedom to focus on my writing has changed my perspective about work.

I did a lot of self-reflection while I was out of work.  In a way, the shutdown contributed to my journey of self-discovery, including bringing light and clarification on my life priorities. I realize that it is not right to allow my job to have such power over my life and happiness.  I no longer want my job and career to determine my identity.  My soul is so much bigger and richer than my job.

My career has been and will always be part of my life.  But the key is to remind myself that it is a small part compared to my life’s full purpose and all the things I want to accomplish.  There are a million things that I want to do, write, to feed my soul.  Realizing the dream of writing is where I want to spend my emotional energy.  It doesn’t mean that I cannot continue to be committed to my career.  I still have a few years until retirement.  I don’t intend to abandon my job responsibilities.  However, having clarity on the goals that my soul wants to pursue means that I will be setting boundaries to ensure that my career doesn’t control my life.

My new perspective brings comfort.  I have already started practicing a different outlook during my first day back at work.  The renewed attitude aligns with who I want to be – with my soul.  From now on, I want my soul to guide my life.  The road ahead is not all clear, but I have started a journey and I am confident that my soul will lead me to the right place – a different place where I can pursue and nurture my passion for writing.

 

The Finish Line

I was just talking with a friend today and mentioned that I can’t wait for the finish line. I was referring to retirement. I was sharing with my friend that I can’t wait to retire and focus on my writing. His reply made me think about the term ‘the finish line.’

We have many ‘finish lines’ during our lifetimes. I have had many literal finish lines to cross during running races. In reality, they are milestones – goals that we set for ourselves. Thus, there are many finish lines or milestones that we create.

I have a good job, a good-paying job. But as I grow older, I have realized that my calling, my purpose, my passion, is not my job, but writing – writing about my life journey and discovering my soul along the quest is what I want to do. Creating this blog was part of following my passion and my dream.

As I grow older, I feel an enormous urgency to follow my passion and purpose in life. I feel that I need to be true to myself and become the person that I want to be.

“There is a very satisfying feeling that comes with being honest with yourself – a sense of freedom and peace.” — IS

I have questioned many times during this journey if I’m going through mid-life crisis. Maybe I am. Maybe as we grow older we question our purpose in life. We crave for answers of what we want to be and what we want to do with our lives.

“There is a need to check in with our soul to ensure that we are aligned with a purpose that brings joy to our life.” — IS

I sure feel that way. If this is mid-life crisis, then I’m glad I’m going through this abstract and transcendental phase. I’m glad that I’m questioning my purpose. I’m glad that I have the courage to search for my true soul.

Retirement is not a finish line. It is a transition to a world where I can exist in sync with my soul – a time where I dream of a world of endless opportunities in which my soul could live without boundaries. I yearn for the calm and peacefulness that comes with following my passion. I aspire to a time where I can give my soul the liberty and abandonment of full expression, with a voice that speaks the truth about who I am. Like Hamilton, I feel that I have a MILLION THINGS TO DO!

Thus, I dream about the symbolic transformation of my life after retirement, as I call it the ‘finish line.’ Almost there…JUST YOU WAIT!

But my friend reminded me that I don’t have to wait – that I can pursue my passion today. I realize that I have started following my dream. I realize that by starting this blog I have taken the first step in the rest of my life.

Suddenly the significance of the retirement ‘finish line’ loses its glory. Retirement is only one step of many during my lifetime. The odyssey of self-discovery have started. I’m already on my way to the most significant goal – I’m writing and enjoying the ride.

I’M NOT THROWING AWAY MY SHOT!

The Calm after the Hurricane

Yesterday I wrote about the difficult topic of encountering racism in the United States through my own experience and the experiences that others have shared with me.  I purposely didn’t give any details of my experience.

I didn’t want to focus on the details, as what was important to me was to share that I, as many other fellow minorities, have been exposed to the evil tentacles of racism.  My purpose was to bring attention to this topic and to let the reader know that it hurts.

Someone made disrespectful comments because of my Hispanic accent.  At the time, I was discussing an issue with someone over the phone.  The subject was complicated and I was asking questions and debating the issues at hand.  Out of nowhere, the other person belittled me by implying that I was not understanding the subject due to my Hispanic origin.  With a disrespectful and racially-minded tone, the individual asked me in a mockingly way if I needed for him to explain the matter in Spanish, as it looked like I was not understanding or following the discussion because I was debating the issue with him.  I was shocked.  I honestly can’t remember a lot of the details of what happened after the hurtful comments.  I probably hanged up.  This experience occurred at work and it was a work-related discussion.  After retreating in pain, I eventually confronted the person and reported the incident to his management.  I received a call from his manager, a woman, who apologized to me on his behalf and explained that the individual was officially reprimanded and ordered to take diversity training.

My experience happened many years ago, but it changed me forever.  Going back is usually needed to move forward, so sharing the story helps me.  Maybe you as the reader can also relate or can learn something about it.  Maybe we should all reflect about not judging people based on their group identity.  Maybe we should not put labels on people, but allow ourselves to discover people as individuals, as human beings – not as men or women, or Hispanics, or Americans, or members of a specific ethnicity or group.  We are all different and we are all unique.

“Don’t judge.  Be open minded when you interact with someone and allow yourself to discover that person, not as a member of a group or a stereotype, but as an individual.” — IS

The pain and the many questions that came to my mind after the experience ultimately contributed to where I am today – writing my blog and my story.

“Finding something positive about a negative experience is usually a healthy way of dealing with life’s unexpected turns – a way to survive and learn.” — IS

When something really awful happens, it might not be obvious immediately that there is something to be learned or that there could be a positive element that could arise later.  When you are in that tumultuous hurricane, you feel like you are spinning out of control and it is hard to get free of the turbulence while you are disappointed or hurt.  But I survived the hurricane.  There was so much confusion and so much pain…but I survived.

I never knew then, where I will be today.  I probably never thought about the positives then.  As they say, hindsight is 20-20, and it is true.  It is ok to be reminded of where I have been.  Everything becomes clearer after the storm.

“It is easier to recognize the ‘positives’ after you look back.” — IS

There are scars, but I’m stronger and wiser.  I am excited about this new path that I am carving as I go.  There are probably many more mysteries ahead of me – the journey of self-discovery that hopefully will lead to a better place.  It brings me happiness to be discovering new things about myself, life, and everything around me.  To be in this journey is overwhelming at times, but also very comforting.

I turned a corner in my life and I am proud of myself to make the turn.  Some time ago, when the hurricane hit, I was a wreck.  Today I stand tall with my Puerto Rican coqui soul.

My Initial Encounter with Diversity and Racism

I left Puerto Rico more than 34 years ago, when I went to Michigan to pursue graduate studies. As a 21-year old heading toward graduate school, I really did not think much about the significance of that moment – my life changed forever.

I enjoyed graduate school immensely. I attended the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. The world became my backyard, as I met friends from all over the globe. I was like a sponge, taking in all the experiences as part of the journey. My exposure to diversity enriched my knowledge of people and cultures. But there was also a different perspective that was thrown into the picture – one that I have not previously experienced. In the United States, diversity began to take a different connotation focused on race and ethnicity.

I never saw myself as a member of a racial group before I came to the United States. I was Puerto Rican. In Puerto Rico, there is a kaleidoscope of skin colors – a mosaic that transcends a singular defined race. The road of racial differentiation started when I had to fill the application to attend graduate school. The form asked about race and ethnicity. Hispanic was in the list, so I checked the box. That was the first time that I distinguished myself as Hispanic. This event seemed trivial, but eventually impacted my views about diversity and my life experiences. From that point on, I was in a ‘box’ – the Hispanic box – and labeled a minority.

The minority seed germinated in my psyche, developing and growing as I was being assimilated into the American culture. I wondered about the inquiring questions of the application. Why did it matter? As it turned out, I got into graduate school with a minority scholarship, so I adopted the Hispanic classification with pride and moved on. I would have never being able to attend graduate school if it was not for that scholarship. Being a minority gave me the opportunity to go to graduate school. I did not think much about the full meaning of my new label.

Living in the United States I found out that the minority label never leaves you. The color of my skin and my accent always gave away the fact that I was different. Everywhere I went, I would be asked about my origins. Eventually I also discovered that the undertones of being a minority were not always positive. I learned that minorities also experience discrimination – a reality that was uncomfortable to bear.

As I entered the workforce, I participated in diversity awareness seminars and found out that employers were focusing on training employees to respect differences and prevent discrimination. I ended up in a leadership role for the diversity training in my workplace. It was assumed that because I was a minority I should be able to help train employees. However, I have never experienced discrimination and I was actually learning myself from the experiences of other minorities. I was proud to be Puerto Rican – and Hispanic. But I was also an American citizen, so I didn’t quite understood the necessity for racial differentiation. I ended up meeting some fellow co-workers that had experienced discrimination and I joined in the cause to illuminate others about diversity.

Eventually, as life would have it, I also ended up experiencing discrimination. I then understood the pain that other fellow minorities have experienced in the United States. The discriminatory experience resulted in a scar to my soul that still generates pain when touched. The scar is a reminder of the awful reality of racism.

I will never forget my first encounter with racism. It has never be easy for me to open up about my first experience with discrimination or about being a racial minority in this country. Living in the United States opened my eyes in ways that sadden me. I have been touched by the dark tentacles of racial discrimination. I’m no longer ‘virgin’ to the terrible impacts of its darkness. I now can relate to other racial minorities.

Today I gathered the courage to write about this. Bringing awareness to this tough topic is important and relevant to the times that we live in today. Many in this country are experiencing difficult times while the news relate the hate expressed to minorities in many fronts. The openness of this hate is hurtful.

When racism against minorities is expressed openly it hurts. It impacts my daily life. I can’t rip off my skin to show a different color or magically get rid of my Hispanic accent. The pain saddens my soul.

I decided to write this today because my sister had a recent negative experience related to this topic that inspired me.  I also decided to write about this today because these type of experiences define our souls.  Despite the pain, I believe it is important for me to confront these emotions, as they are part of my soul-searching journey and who I am today.