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

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!

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.

The Mirror Talks Back

“If you were looking at yourself in a mirror, what would the person in the mirror say?” — IS

(The following is a piece I wrote for my writing class where we were asked to write about what would the mirror say if we were looking at ourselves? To me it was a conversation with my soul, with my reflection in the mirror looking back at me and telling me what she saw – my self-reflection. I think it’s good to stop once in a while and reflect on what we see in the mirror.)

I know you have been thinking a lot about your identity lately. I can see you. I can see your face and your eyes looking at me. I know there is so much more to you than what I see. Have you thought about that? Who are you? What’s inside you? What do you represent? What do you believe in? There is so much more than what is on the surface… your purpose in life, your family, your upbringing, your life yesterday, your life today, and your dreams for the future.

“It is funny how we think that we know someone by the way they look, or their name, or what they say. In reality, we are all so much more complex than that.” — IS

I can see through your eyes, your determination, and your steadiness. I can see that you never give up, that you always get up again, that you search for me when you need a friend. I’m here to listen and I’m here to have as many conversations as we need so you can feel better, so you can explore yourself, so you can reflect on your life, so you can discover your soul, so you can find answers to your questions, so you can get to know yourself.

The road can be bumpy, long, and painful at times. But I assure you that it will be worth it. Talk back to me and we can share your self-discovery. I’m your soul and will always be with you.

The Duality of Language – A Glimpse to My Identity Journey

When I went to my first writing class, I had an encounter with one of the biggest dualities that I live with as a Puerto Rican in the United States. The example I will be sharing portrays a reality that I have lived with for many years, but that has been difficult to explain to myself. The situation is real and exemplifies many other situations throughout my life as a Puerto Rican in the United States.

I purposely decided to go to class early, as I have missed the first class and wanted to have a chance to meet the instructor. I had contacted the instructor by email after I registered for the writing class, but this was my first time in class. I entered the classroom and selected a desk. The instructor was in the room and recognized that I was new.

“Are you Ines?” the instructor asked.

“Yes,” I said.

The instructor then said, “Mucho gusto.”

(‘Mucho gusto’ means something like ‘nice to meet you’ in Spanish)

It is funny how this introduction reflected on many of the things that I have been thinking about before signing up for the class. I have sent the introductory homework piece to the instructor ahead of time, the title of which was ‘I’m Still Puerto Rican.’ Knowing about my piece, the instructor probably assumed that I spoke Spanish so she was trying to connect with me in my native language. What’s funny is that when I was confronted with the Spanish greeting, I naturally responded to her in English. I was not in a Spanish environment (I was in Michigan), so I didn’t think in Spanish. She proceeded to tell me that she knew a little Spanish.

In my head, I thought,

“That’s good, but I’m not speaking Spanish.”

What my head was thinking was brought up by the duality that lives inside me: Spanish vs. English; Puerto Rican vs. American. Of course, I didn’t say what my brain thought. That would have been rude or impossible for her to understand. I just nodded my head.

The instructor went on to tell me that the topic of duality that I shared in my introductory piece (‘I’m Still Puerto Rican’) was a good topic to explore. (The link to my introductory piece, I’m Still Puerto Rican, is included at the end of this post) The instructor’s comment brought a lot of hope and encouragement, as I have been thinking about this topic, and how to better understand it, for a while.

The duality of language – the way my brain works and reacts around both languages – was indeed an interesting topic to explore. I have debated a lot of questions about this topic throughout the years.

How I move from one language to the other. How it feels foreign and strange to think in Spanish while I’m here in Michigan. How I think in English every day of my life in Michigan. How I feel emotions in English. How it is easier for me to express my feelings in English. How I struggle in Puerto Rico trying to come up with Spanish words. How I have an accent in both languages. Yes, I have an accent in Spanish and English.

It should not be surprising that I think in English, as I have been in the States for over 34 years. I live and work in Michigan and my daily life happens in English, not Spanish. I only speak Spanish over the phone when I call my mom, or when I visit Puerto Rico. But even in Puerto Rico, it is hard for me to speak Spanish all the time, as my husband is not Puerto Rican and I don’t like to exclude him from what’s going on in a conversation. But sometimes I feel pressure to speak Spanish in Puerto Rico because that’s my native language and Puerto Rico is my native country.

Even with my sister, it is usually a mix of English and Spanish. We go back and forth, but English usually wins as we are expressing our feelings and emotions. My sister lives in Massachusetts and she has also been in the States for many years.

My husband is amazed that I can go from one language to the other. It might seem easy, but it is very difficult sometimes, especially when I’m trying to remember words in Spanish. Mostly, my language choice is determined by the environment where I am. If I’m in Michigan or anywhere in the States, there is no Spanish at all that comes to mind. When I’m in Puerto Rico around my mom and family, I speak Spanish. But there is an internal struggle that I try to hide as best as I can, although it becomes obvious to others when I’m forgetting words. Some friends in Puerto Rico brought to my attention that I have an English accent when I speak Spanish. That was quite a surprise to me. I know I have a Spanish accent when I talk in English, but now it happens both ways – English and Spanish.

Having an accent in both Spanish and English makes me think a lot about not belonging to either Puerto Rico or the United States. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in both places, which I will be exploring a lot more in this blog. This duality goes a lot deeper than just the language. The language duality triggers a lots of feelings (many I can’t explain). The language dichotomy awakens in me spurs of anxiety and uneasiness. I also realize that there is a confidence issue that comes up during the language struggles. For some strange reason my mind goes to a lot of places when I meet someone in the States and they quickly ask me where I am from. I have always assumed that they are asking me the question because they detect an accent. They don’t ask that question to my husband when we are together.

My usual response – and I have gotten better at it with time – is: “I’m from Michigan, but I’m originally from Puerto Rico.”

I always feel the urge to explain and clarify the situation. I have gotten pretty good at my answer. My husband usually observes with curiosity. He knows what’s going on in my head. He knows that the ‘question’ bothers me because it triggers a lot of weird emotions in my head. This is one of the reasons why I’m going through this soul searching journey.

Being a Puerto Rican in the United States, with an accent I should add, creates some complicated reactions in my head. My brain tells me that when I’m being asked the ‘question’ somehow it pinpoints the fact that I’m different – I have an accent, I have brown skin, I look different from other people in the room (most of the time). Being different brings awareness about being a Hispanic minority in the States. Somehow I feel like an outcast.

I know that the language issue and my reactions to the question of ‘where am I from’ exemplify the tangle of emotions that arise with my search for identity. My soul feels pulled by two different forces that clash. Am I Puerto Rican? Am I American? Theoretically, I’m both because as a native Puerto Rican, I’m also an American citizen. But sometimes I feel that I’m neither. I think the key is that I’m actually a combination of both identities, and maybe a lot of other things that I identify with.

My soul searching journey will explore many of the identity contradictions that I live with. I’m sure the journey will be long, but it will be worth it. Maybe there will not be an end to it. Maybe there doesn’t need to be an end, but an acknowledgement of the journey itself will be enough to find comfort and peace. Life is a journey. My coqui soul project is also a journey.

I’m happy to be in this journey with you, the reader. Maybe you can also discover something about yourself along this journey.

I’m Still Puerto Rican