ship it.

SHIP IT.

Ah, June.  The flowers are blooming, the sun is strong, my garden is planted and I think it is safe to say I have recovered from last month's the-world-is-going-to-hell-in-a-hand-basket funk.  I'm not saying my last post was heavily influenced by hormones, but, anyway.......

Speaking of my garden, I'm happy to say that after, oh, thirty seven years or so I finally got around to planting one!  

not bad for a first try right?

I have been talking (to myself) about making a raised bed garden for so long, but it just seemed daunting.  Getting the lumber, having the soil delivered, buying and planting seeds, watering, weeding, etc.

I'm not proud, but every year FOR THE LAST THREE YEARS, I have gone to our local farm supply store to buy something (bird seed, pine shavings for the chicken coop, soap made from hay, etc. -  you know, typical New Hampshire stuff) and have walked away with ten or so seed packets.  I would then bring said seed packets home, put them in a pretty basket on the kitchen counter (for display purposes) and stare at them all summer thinking to myself:

"Shit.  If I had just planted those seeds I'd actually have cucumbers and tomatoes right now instead of just admiring their (now dusty) pictures on the front of the packet."

How can you plant them when there are charming home decor items like this to be made?

The delayed garden tells the story of my young adult life in so many ways.  

Idea rich.  

Execution poor.  

EXAMPLE:  Years ago I came up with an idea for wall mounted jewelry displays using old picture frames and chicken wire...before you saw them all over Etsy.  

I called them "Jewelry Coops" and made one as a gift for pretty much everyone I know.  I created a pricing strategy, established different styles of "coops", took pictures of some finished product, purchased the rights to the URL, the whole shebang.  

As of June 3, 2015 I have sold exactly none.

they really are awesome for keeping hook earrings organized.

The woman who watches my daughter while I am at work has many talents (not the least of which is taking fabulous care of my kids), but her passion is costume design and generally anything that involves a needle and thread.  A few years ago she started making dog vests for her own dogs.  The vests turned out so well she decided to open her own Etsy shop - with great success.

One day we were talking about her business and turning an idea into a finished product when she said "You know what?  At some point you just have to ship it."

She said ideas are great and important and fun but if you really want to turn an idea into reality you have to put it in a box, put a label on it and ship the f'n thing (I'm actually the one who swears, not her).

Yes.  This was the message I needed to hear.  You have to ship it.

"Shipping it" applies to so much more than just small business ideas.  It applies to any dream or ambition.

If you've always wanted to take a road trip cross-country start planning.  (Like my girlfriend whose cross-country adventure blog can be found here):

go get 'em Tori. xo

If you have always dreamed of moving out of the city and buying a farm, then move.

If running a full marathon is on your bucket list then for the love of god start training (proud of you Jill).

If you always wanted a vegetable garden then plant it.

This summer I am shipping it.  

I'm not putting off until the kids are in high school what I can experience today.  And if that means my laundry piles up and  my kitchen floor has food on it then, well, that's just how it's going to be.  I feel an urgent need to live life fully and with purpose.  Now.  Not later.

I hope you ship something meaningful this summer.  I hope you finally take that idea, adventure or personal goal and wrap it up, stick it in a box, and slap a label on it.  Feel free to share your experience with "shipping it" in the comments section - I'd love to hear!

Lastly, my heart is so happy to let you know that I'll be shipping one more thing in the next month or two.   My first (and likely only) children's book "A Brighter Life for Edison" is in the final stages of editing (insert excited squeal here)!  

I have so enjoyed the process of creating this book and can't begin to explain how much I've learned from it all.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Emil Schroettnig, the young artist who offered his time and talent to bring my story to life.  I am convinced the universe had a plan for the two of us.

His artwork helped me see this project all the way from idea to reality and every stage in between.  His illustrations not only surpassed my expectations and reflected my dreams for the book, but they truly completed it.  

So thank you Emil, for everything... 

(but mostly for being the one who helped me ship it.)

xo - juli

screaming for peace.

It has been too long!  Apologies for the nearly two months it has been since my last post (writing consistently and keeping posts current are Successful Blogging 101, which is just one more reason why I shouldn't quit my day job).  

I have had a major case of writer's block the likes of which I have never experienced.  I have written three different half-posts in the last two months, all of which I quickly hated and didn't feel were worth finishing (well, one was okay but my husband 86'd it). 

See?  I tried, I swear.

I am not at all confused about what is causing me to think that everything I write is complete crap...I know exactly what the issue is.  Everything I started to write seemed so frivolous and unimportant compared to the recent events in the news that I couldn't even begin to take myself seriously.  

I'm not trying to be a major Debbie Downer here.  I do my best to keep these posts (and my own thoughts) uplifting, but the events of the last couple months have left me squinting my eyes at the screen in disbelief.  Plane crashes, riots, earthquakes, boats capsizing, drug use on the rise, the list just goes on.  I find myself scratching my head and wondering "Has it always been like this?  Or do we just see more tragedy now that news is so 'real time'?"  

I'm not really sure what the answer to that question is.  What I am sure of is that I just haven't been able to mentally transition away from the gravity of these events (and blog about something like cleaning out closets for Spring) as though they aren't happening.  Maybe writing about something light and unrelated would have been good for me (and for you), but I couldn't.  

It always feels so strange to me when a news broadcast jumps seamlessly from a story about a city on fire to a human interest piece on the health benefits of garlic.  The little bubble floating above my head reads something like this:

I just don't operate like that.  These stories stick with me, and they find me in the middle of the night when I can't sleep.

Then last week I was watching some footage of the Baltimore protests for Freddie Gray.  Crowds of people gathered, chanting, screaming, demanding justice - the air was electric with anger and frustration.  Cars burning, storefronts destroyed, curfews put in place and schools closed to keep kids safe.  The news clip ended with footage of the crowd screaming as loud as their voices would let them, fists raised in the air.  

They were screaming "WE WANT PEACE.  WE WANT PEACE." 

I was so struck by the duality of it all.  The damage and destruction to the city, the threat to public safety, and a plea for peace all wrapped up in one.  I go out of my way to not give my opinion about politics or religion or how to raise kids (or pretty much anything for that matter) when I write here, but I will say that as far as I am concerned, nothing about that story is peaceful.  There was no peace for Freddie Gray and the way he died...and there was nothing peaceful about the response to his death.  I kept thinking:

"How can we hope for peace, how can we demand peace when we don't act peacefully?  How can we scream for peace?"

I can tell you that while I may not be screaming I want peace too.  I'm just whispering.  I'm whispering for peace in my house, in my family and in my place in this world.  

We whisper for peace by not turning away from difficult topics.  By recognizing privilege, how it shapes our perspective, and how we can use it to make change.  By donating our time or money or talent when we can.  We can whisper peace to our kids so quietly they may not even hear us...but they will see it in the way we treat them and others.  We whisper peace by doing.

I'm not alone - I hear these whispers every day.  I hear the whispers of tolerance, kindness and grace in the words my friends speak to their kids.  I hear the whispers of respect, fairness and responsibility in the way my own children are being taught in school to not only care for their classmates, but for their community as well.

Then there are stories like this one - about a millionaire who gave up half his wealth to help rescue migrants crossing the sea from Africa to Europe .

...or this one - about a teacher in Pittsburgh who used his own arrest to help teach 8th graders a civics lesson.

I have faith in these people and others like them, and that these whispers for peace both big and small will be heard.  I believe one day soon enough for all of us to see, the screams for peace today will meet the whispers of tomorrow.  Until finally, someday, there will be no more reason to shout. 

xo - juli

PS - I swear next month I will get back to something lighter and more along the lines of Spring cleaning closets.  Really, I promise.

PPS - I would like to once again, thank Karin Chen for asking me to be part of her Fierce + Feminine Project last month.  The interview came at the perfect time, since I was clearly unable to come up with anything on my own! 

in case you missed it, click here

I couldn't close this post without a pic of Jenny saying goodbye to Forest.  I just couldn't.

grading on a curve.

I'm pretty sure Spring has arrived in New England.  Despite the fact that I had to walk through three feet of snow to remove the Christmas wreath from my front door this past weekend I am going to believe the calendar and the increasingly mild temps.  You may be wondering why I waited until it is almost St. Patrick's Day to remove my holiday wreath.  It's not laziness, it's because I literally couldn't access my front door until now.  The snow was that deep.  

For those of you who haven't spent the last two months in the tundra that is New Hampshire, allow me to illustrate my point with a couple of images:

my commute

 My kids outside "getting some fresh air" (for 17 minutes before the frost bite sets in).

Getting my holiday decor down in a timely fashion isn't the only thing I'm finding challenging this month.  I'm just going to be honest and say that the entire month of March (to date) has felt like the SAT's of parenting for me.  If I have been a student in the fine art of parenting for the last eight years, then the month of March has undoubtedly been the big test.  And truthfully, at times, I've felt as though I'm failing.

There have been instances I was certain I said the wrong thing at that critical "teachable moment".  Situations where I wanted to protect my kids from an illness, or an insult, or themselves for that matter...and I couldn't.  Times when I blamed myself for working full time, for my genetics, for my overly sensitive nature and for feeling everything so much - so much that they can feel it too.  

I've always said that having kids is like someone holding up a mirror to show you everything there is to know about yourself.  The thing I'm starting to realize is that sometimes you can see straight through that glass - and you can see everything there is to know about yourself in them...standing right there on the other side.  

And sometimes, well, you just wish you could pluck that part of yourself (that pesky part that has always given you trouble) right out of them and put it back where it belongs.  Back inside yourself.

But you can't.  So you just have to help them instead.

As luck would have it, life has handed me (as life so often does) just the right voice at just the right time.  I stumbled across a book that I just can't put down (well, sometimes I have to put it down because I'm busy holding a nebulizer) called How To Catch a Frog: And Other Stories of Family, Love, Dysfunction, Survival and DIY  by Heather Ross.

check it out on amazon here.

Without ruining it for you, I'll just say this is Heather's memoir about life with her twin sister and their eccentric single mother in the rural Northeast Kingdom of Vermont.  The three of them inhabited a number of barely-livable structures on a piece of family owned land throughout her childhood and were often cold, hungry, or both.

Heather recounts a number of childhood memories throughout the book with such perfect detail you can't help but feel like you are right there beside her - in that little brook with the waterfall, swimming next to her with no bathing suit on.  Her stories are hysterical, and real, and touching - I highly recommend this as your beach read of Summer 2015.

The part that has struck me over and over throughout the book however, is not her crazy upbringing or the success she has made of her life despite those early challenges.  But rather, it is the way she remembers her mother in so many ways and in such different lights.  

There are pages where she describes her mother as almost neglectful.  Chain smoking Lucky Strikes, drinking beer from a can and never having anything but peanut butter out of the jar available for breakfast.  Her Mom also had a charming habit of intentionally running animals over with her car for food - she and her sister were no stranger to road kill turkey dinner.  

Just when you have decided her mother was clearly a parenting failure and unfit to be raising two small girls Heather will describe how she would look out the cabin window on freezing cold days to see her skinny mother chopping wood for their fire in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.  She will remember how the other women in their small town loved to judge her mom...but she knew deep down they were just jealous of her beauty, her bravery, and her independent spirit.

She toggles back and forth throughout the book between admiring her mother's strength and seeing her "shortcomings" as facts, not complaints.  She also recognizes how much her mother's alternative parenting methods contributed to her development and future success.  A portion of the online review reads:

"When, as a twenty-something, Heather complained to her mother about a long list of things she had missed out on and that had compromised her chance of ever leading a “normal” life (immunizations, a healthy respect for authority), her mother waved a hand and replied, “Well, you should thank me, because you have a lot of good stories instead.”

And good stories she has.  Heather's words have been proof to me that this parenting thing is not a pass/fail situation.  We keep trying and we keep learning and we use that knowledge to hopefully do better next time.  I love this Maya Angelou quote:

I am going to stay in the game.  I'm going to keep fighting the good fight for them the best and only way I know how.  I'm going to stay present and engaged and strong in hopes that one day they will remember back to these years, and see all the different parts of me in all different lights - some admittedly brighter than others.  

Mostly though, I just hope they remember how hard I tried.  And when the big parenting test of adulthood finally arrives for them...I hope they grade me on a curve.  

Stay strong ladies, you're doing great.  xo - juli

it's simple really.

Being in love is a very big deal when you are six years old.  Valentine's Day in the first grade is a proper holiday and a celebrated event.  Every February my mother would buy me the obligatory box of cheesy early-1980's valentines to trade at school.  I would excitedly read each card first, and then decide what classmate was going to get which.  It was, of course, critical to ensure the message felt appropriate for the recipient.  

There was always that one special person in class, the person whose name you will never forget (Stephen Benson).  The boy or girl who had to get just the right card with just the right words. The person who couldn't know you "liked them liked them"...but I mean, you still wanted them to know you liked them.  

As kids we knew so little about the complexities of adult relationships.  We were six years old with heart shaped mailboxes made out of decorated white paper plates...and yet, it mattered.  Our minds and hearts were open...love was simple.  Showing it was easy and fun.

This year, as the heart-shaped holiday approached I got curious about Valentine's Day and why we celebrate it at all.  Since I can't ever just leave anything alone I had to do a little sniffing around on the origin of the holiday.  I found a tidy little write up here.  The image of Roman priests running around slapping women with strips of goat hide dipped in sacrificial blood to encourage fertility is now forever burned into my brain.  (You're welcome.)

Things change as we get older, and somewhere along the way we agree with the "Hallmark Holiday" school of thought that Valentine's Day is just another dumb reason to force people into shopping retail and a necessary break to keep the frozen filler month of February interesting.  

We dismiss the idea that a day devoted to love could ever be important.  At least I did anyway...until now.

These days I am ALL IN.

Romance is one of those things you don't know you need until it's no longer there.  But when the heat of a new relationship has turned into the slow burn of many years together it becomes shockingly obvious when it goes missing.  Then we have this day - this one silly little day in the middle of frozen windshield wipers and ten foot snowbanks to bring it back.  We have this day to clear away the clutter of a complicated relationship and get back to that open-hearted childlike feeling of how fun and simple it can be to show love.  

A couple years ago my girlfriend's husband wrote this in the snow on their front lawn.  

I died.  It couldn't be more simple and it couldn't be more romantic. 

*Copyright disclosure:  I did not seek girlfriend authorization prior to posting this image.*

My husband once carved our initials on a support beam in the basement of our old house - I count it as one of the most romantic things he has ever done for me.

This Valentine's Day I challenge you to go under the top (instead of over it).  Cook a meal or write a letter (like with a pen, not a keyboard) or pick up the phone and make a "just because" call.  Make a hand made Valentine and then mail it.  Bake a cake.  Get all dressed up (or all undressed) for someone who will appreciate the effort.  Or simply clear your schedule to make time for the person who needs your attention most.

Think back to what love looked like to you before it became complex and then create it.  Think of the things you did when love was easy and then do them again.

Celebrate the promise that love doesn't always have to be (and shouldn't be) that complicated.  Forget the fight you had last week and the things you said that you wish you hadn't, and just give love like you mean it.

Not because it's a holiday and not because you have to or because you should - but rather because it's fun, and because sometimes love really can be that simple.

a vacation from your problems.

HAPPY 2015!

I hope you are all starting the new year off on the right foot!  If your house is anything like mine you have been starting the year off on a sick foot - so here's to hoping the rest of 2015 is healthier than the beginning!

If you've been reading along for these past few years you will know I don't make resolutions for many reasons...the primary one being I'm not in the market for new ways to feel bad about myself.  I know damn well I'm not going to:

1)  Eat a paleo diet.  I tried (for like five minutes) and failed.
2)  Quit Facebook.  I tried...and went back.
3)  Exercise every day.  I tried and failed.  For like 37 years.
4)  Give up alcohol and/or sugar.  I tried and failed.
5)  Remember to take my makeup off before bed.  I keep trying.  I keep failing.

Since I already know I'm not going to do any of the things above that I actually should do - what's left?  I thought about giving up gambling - but since I don't gamble I'm not sure what the net gain would really be there.

On the more serious side of things, I have officially decided that for me, 2015 is going to be the year of minimizing problems.  It's not really a resolution, but more of a theme.  I'm splitting hairs here I know - I'll explain.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were fortunate enough to get away for five days to Harbour Island, Bahamas where we attended a (killer) wedding.  Harbour Island is the kind of place where everything looks like a Microsoft Windows screensaver.

{I'm not kidding.}

About one day into our vacation I started feeling a little disoriented and confused - not myself.  I thought maybe it was the travel (or the booze) but quickly realized what the real issue was.

I didn't have any problems to solve.

I am always reluctant to define anything in my life as a "real problem".  So before I begin sounding like a Kardashian I would like to qualify this post by saying I count my blessings my chickens and my sheep regularly.  I know how lucky I am...but as my wise Mom told me many years ago "everyone's problems are real to them."

Some problems are big:

• Serious illness
• Money
• Divorce
• Food insecure (I learned this is the new term for hungry after reading this completely eye-opening article about The New Face of Hunger in Nat Geo.  Worth your time - I promise.)

Some problems are global/colossal:

• ISIS
• Climate Change (I'm going to stop here. This list would be insanely depressing - check cnn if you'd like more).

Some problems are small:

• Hairdresser switched salons and the new location isn't as convenient.
• The car is full of groceries and it's sleeting out. 
• The light fixture you want is back-ordered and won't be available for 14 weeks.
• Your husband finds out he has to work on NYE day but you had plans to take a day trip to Simon Pearce.

{*note:  All small problems are loosely based on my own recent personal experiences that have made me feel like the most lousy, spoiled rotten brat ever for even classifying as a "problem".}

There are everything-in-between problems.  These are work problems, personal problems, car problems, house problems.

Then, of course, kid problems - which are really in a class all their own:

• Sick child (My personal favorite - throw in some asthma for extra fun!)
• Childcare or lack thereof (Otherwise known as the story of my life).
• Logistics/scheduling (Are you picking them up or am I?  Did you call the school? etc).
• Behavioral (Is that normal?  Do other people's kids do that?)
• Nutritional (Is it okay to give her gummies for breakfast if she eats a banana first?)
• Educational (Mom is apparently not smart enough to help you with your second grade Math homework).

Everyone has problems to solve.  If we didn't have them it would probably mean we don't have a whole hell of a lot going on...which would just be boring.  What I realized in my five precious days away however, is that I am in an almost constant state of problem solving. 

My mind is working overtime every day, all day (and often night), to anticipate potential problems and solve them before they strike.  The blender in my brain is constantly swirling with a mix of nearly all the problem categories listed above.  I am so used to this way of thinking that when faced with five days of problem-free living I literally felt confused.  BUT I LIKED IT.  

Since no life is without it's challenges (and since we can't always be on vacation), I started thinking about ways to shut down those little problems that can create big noise.  Here's what I've got so far:

• Avoiding problematic situations. EXAMPLE:  Not over-scheduling my family so much that weekends become rushed, unenjoyable and one giant logistics exercise.
• Practice "turning problems around". EXAMPLE: Reminding myself how great it is to have access to fresh food, and not having to stress about how I will pay for it instead of complaining about unloading a car full of groceries.
• Eliminating problems entirely. EXAMPLES:  Cancelling cable, trading in an old car for a newer one, fixing the broken door that never shuts correctly, waking up a half hour earlier so there's enough time to dry my hair, make coffee and STILL be on time for work.

So much of life is out of our control - and those big problems that require our immediate and undivided attention can come around uninvited and unexpectedly.  The joke is on me if I choose to spend this time when everyone is employed and healthy and young and happy worrying about how Comcast is trying to screw us for a movie we rented and paid for but the OnDemand wasn't even working that night.

{how awesome is this?}

I invite you to do the same.  Much like Dr. Leo Marvin did for Bob Wiley in "What About Bob?" (arguably the most important film of all time), I am writing you a prescription to take a holiday from the noise.  I invite you to "take a vacation from your problems".  The problems that prevent you from keeping your focus on the things that really matter...like YOU.

And now, I'll close with some final words from Bob:

Dr. Leo Marvin:  Are you married?
Bob Wiley:  I'm divorced.
Dr. Leo Marvin:  Would you like to talk about that?
Bob Wiley:  There are two types of people in this world:  Those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't.  My ex-wife loves him.

Enjoy your vacation everyone.  xo

believe.

"I totally believe in magic.  Magical things have come true for me time after time after time." - Stevie Nicks

(and if my girl Stevie says it, you know it's true.)

I have some news to share this month.  I am pleased (and surprised) to announce that this month marks three full years of The Little Things!  That's right - my little blog about nothing in particular is entering it's fourth year!  I can't believe the blog is going to be four.  It's growing up so fast...where does the time go? 

(I don't mean to brag, but I recently had a parent/teacher conference at the blog's preschool and was told the blog has excellent fine motor skills and is able to follow complicated sets of instructions.  They also said the blog is also able to get itself dressed for outdoor winter play without any help from a teacher...that includes snow boots and mittens!  (Between you and me I am also pretty confident the blog is reading way above grade level.))

Obviously, I'm more than a little looped.  

It's the holidays people.

The 2014 holiday challenge in our house has been the "big question".  The how-exactly-do-the-toys-get-under-the-tree-and-who-puts-them-there question.  My eight year-old son has been asking very pointed questions about the jolly old purveyor of Christmas loot, and I, like any good parent, have been aggressively dodging them.  (*My new book Parenting Made Easy by Pretending You Can't Hear 'Cause You're in the Shower is due for release in April of 2015*).

I'm finding that rather than focusing on the details of the actual toy distribution it is much easier to simply focus on the magic.  The idea that the impossible can sometimes be possible - no matter how much our logical minds tell us it can't be.  Just because something is improbable, I tell my son, doesn't mean it is impossible.

After all, David conquered Goliath didn't he?  How could a small shepherd boy with nothing more than a rock and a sling take down a trained warrior three times his size?  (*For a great interview with Malcolm Gladwell on the story of David and Goliath click here.)   Or more recently, Malala Yousafzai was shot by a Taliban fighter for defending her right (and the rights of all children) to an education and became the youngest Nobel Peace Prize laureate in history at just 17 years old.  (I can't stop reading about this girl...obsessed.)

I'm not suggesting these amazing stories were the result of magic...just that sometimes the improbable is, in fact, possible.  

I'm also not saying that magic always has to be so monumental.  My cousin, for example, is donating her time at a school teaching children about gardening and nutrition.  Magic.  My neighbor (and friend) takes in foster dogs until they can find loving families in permanent homes.  Magic.  Toys For Tots, The United Way and The Salvation Army - all making magic happen for families in need this time of year.  Want to make some magic happen yourself?  Click here.

I want to believe in magic.  Not just for my kids, but for me.  

I have to believe the holidays are more than a sanity test to see how much the average American mom can take before she cracks in half and eats an entire box of Christmas cookies she bought at the PTA fundraiser (not that I did that).  There is more to this season than twice weekly Target runs and unopened Amazon boxes piling up in the garage...I just know there is.  Because I've seen it.

So while I can't bring myself to look my son in the eye and tell him something I believe to be untrue, I have no problem explaining to him all the ways I believe magic really has and really is happening around us all the time.  Then I try to end the conversation by saying that if it wasn't for magic I could never have ended up with a kid like him. 

...and who could argue with that kind of logic?  (wink)

Happy holidays friends.

xoxo - juli

a fresh set of eyes.

You may have noticed the blog has moved back to Facebook.  My husband (who has me beat when it comes to the Internet) told me it was "pain in the ass" to find the blog through Instagram.  I should've run this little field study on a test subject before announcing the big move, but I didn't.  So here we are.  

November was weird.  It's funny, sometimes you don't realize what a routine your life is until you break away from it for a while. This is what this past month has been for me.  We have a family schedule, we have work schedules, I (try to) keep a social schedule, etc...the wheels just keep on turning.

I recently learned that the term for this is "unconscious competence".  When you get so good at or used to doing something that you don't realize you're doing it anymore.  Like driving from your house to your office in the morning...sometimes you arrive and you don't know how you got there (let's assume you haven't been drinking).  In some ways, a whole life can become this way; a series of similar and repetitive events.  Until one day, something changes.

November 10th was when things changed for me.  It was the first day of a week-long conference centered around Diversity and Inclusion in a charming little Arizona town called Tubac (just north of the Mexican border).  I'm both interested and passionate about diversity in the workplace and how it can strengthen a company while empowering employees.  I was also interested and passionate about getting out of New Hampshire for a week now that the winter chill has settled over New England.  

I spent four days with twenty five other professionals from various companies in this chapel:

It was amazing.

I'm not going to go through the four days in this post for a couple of reasons.  First, it would be impossible to summarize the workshop and second, it would come out all wrong.  For a week I was completely outside my comfort zone both physically and mentally.  I met new people, had difficult conversations and witnessed the way others perceive the world.  It was gritty, it was uncomfortable, and at times the conversations were a bit messy.  Obviously, I loved it.  If you're interested in learning more here's the link to the consulting group that puts these "experiential labs" on:  http://wmfdp.com/ 

The lab was facilitated by two women and this guy, Bill Proudman:

https://www.womenetics.com/Article/ArtMID/2681/ArticleID/2563/bill-proudman-diversity-partners

The best way to explain my time in Tubac is that when I left, my heart - and my eyes felt a little different.

Friday morning when the workshop ended I packed up my things and headed to the airport in my rental car.  It was about 5:30 in the morning and still pretty dark when I was stopped by border patrol at a checkpoint on the highway.  

Needless to say, this is a relatively atypical situation for a girl from New Hampshire to find herself in.  I'm accustomed to handing an officer my license and registration when I get stopped, so I didn't understand the man at first when he asked me "Are you a US citizen?"  He kinda said it fast and mumbly so I didn't 100% understand him.  My response was "What?"  To which he replied "I SAID ARE YOU A U.S. CITIZEN?"

He yelled it.  Pretty much in my face.  I nervously responded "yes" and then answered a number of questions about where I'd been, where I was heading, and if I had any people that were not easily visible in my vehicle.  After a quick sniff (literally, by dogs) of my rental car I was on my way.  Just to be clear, I was not at the border of Mexico and the United States... I was already in the country - this was just a random checkpoint. 

As I drove off in my rented mini-van, the sun was rising.  The morning Arizona sun was lighting the mountains up bright pink and the horizon was orange.  I blinked my eyes a few times and reminded myself how there are all these worlds happening every day, all day, outside of the one I know.  

I squinted my eyes hard against the early morning glow as I drove...they felt different.

I arrived to the airport on time, returned the car and got through security in enough time to grab a coffee and a bunch of celebrity rags.  Why do I only read US Weekly and People when I'm on an airplane?  It's like ordering tomato juice.  You don't know why you do it, you just do.

When I boarded my flight home I noticed the front row of the airplane was filled with members of the military, all in full dress.  There was a woman sitting next to them crying quietly to herself.  After all the passengers were on board the pilot informed us that our flight was transporting a fallen soldier back home to New Hampshire and to please stay seated upon landing to allow his widow and escorts to de-board the plane first.  The whole flight felt surreal.  

When we landed in Manchester the runway was lined with military personnel, police officers and firemen - all standing at attention, waiting for our plane.  When the plane finally stopped moving the widow and her escorts stood up, and as instructed, everyone remained in their seats.  Then altogether, as though on queue, all the passengers started clapping.  

Eventually, everyone was standing at their seats and clapping for the woman as she walked out the door and up the ramp.  She turned to nod her head at us and I could see that both of our eyes were full with tears.  I've never been that close to bravery or so touched by sacrifice as I was in that moment.  I wiped my watery eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, and when I opened them - everything looked different. 

I had a fresh set of eyes.

I had spent an entire week trying to understand how people different from myself see the world.  But it was my travels home that changed the way the world looked to me.  As I sat alone at the baggage claim in a trance-like state reflecting back on the trip I thought to myself - 'So what now?  What do I do with these new eyes?'

I'll use them to remind myself that though I may be the star of my own show, there are countless other plays happening every second of every day that bear no resemblance to mine.  I'll use them to see that everyone takes the world in differently.  I'll use them to recognize the privileges I consider normal and the safety I take for granted.  I'll do the only thing a person can do once their eyes have been opened wider...I'll use them to see.