Transitions

For the past few days, my bedroom floor has seen suitcases strewn around, mouths yawning wide, waiting to be filled and closed. For the past couple days, I have mostly been in bed, waiting for the antibiotics to kick in, trying to avoid looking at those suitcases or the things that need to be done for the upcoming travel.

It’s the transition, and the apprehension that goes with it, I tell myself. Oddly enough I feel better. In acknowledging the transition, the uncertainty of the next stage and the emotional inertia, I give myself the permission to feel what I feel. Even if that doesn’t help me get things done, it helps me feel better, in knowing that it will get done, that it is not as daunting, even if all I do, is turn the other side and burrow my head in the pillow.

It’s truly all about transitions. But let me back up a little. To the long weekend that went by recently.

In second grade, our kid went to an overnight camp through school and ever since, has wanted for us to do the family camp there. It took us four years to finally make it happen. But it did happen this past long weekend, and we spent the weekend close to nature, filled with activities and enthusiastic families. Most activities, even if they seemed challenging, were for most ages and abilities. And till about a decade ago, I wouldn’t have given a second thought about any of them.

But a lot has happened to me physically in the past decade, and I am never quite sure what my body will allow me to do. So I did my share of faltering and evaluating and humming and hawing.

I also realized that it is often mostly about transitions (at least for me). That instance of uncertainty about the next thing about to happen.

As illustrated best, by the catwalk, which involves walking on a log of wood, some 20-30 feet above the ground. It is really not as difficult as the image you may have conjured in your mind. And as I mentioned, a decade ago, I would have had no hesitation. I would have done it cautiously, I’m sure, even then, but without any second guesses. So let me tell you how this one went.

I end up being among the last in the group to go. After watching some complete the course effortlessly (including my husband and kid), and others hesitate, develop cold feet, and not quite make it to the end.  

When it is my turn, I manage to put the harness the wrong way. Hmm… stalling tactic? Then walk to the tree and realize that I need to tie my shoe laces, both shoe laces, but of course. Shoe laces tied, harness the right way, I get up and start climbing the staples on the tree.

“Want to get harnessed first?” the instructor asked. Of course, after stalling, now I am in a rush to get it over with. Embarrassed, I manage a laugh, get the rope hooked to the harness, and climb up. The climb is easy. Now it is time to hold the belay and get on to the log. Transition. I balk.

“Maybe I’ll just climb down the staples on the tree”, I call from the top. The transition seems daunting. The nebulous split second of moving from the tree to the log. The group eggs me on and I decide to get on the log. Not bad, I think as I hold the belay.

I traverse the log. Quite easy, really. I tell the folks below they can be as noisy as they want to. By then I have reached the end. Which means, another transition.

“Come back to the center and then turn around”. I come back to the center and then freeze. Again. Another transition. I realize I will have to take a foot off the log and turn my body. I balk some more. I tell myself I will have to do this if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on this log. I turn around. Slow, fast, clumsy, elegant… I wouldn’t know. I do know it wasn’t as hard as I made it up in my mind. Success.

But wait, there’s another transition in store. I need to push my feet against the log and sit in the harness – belay like, except there is no wall, no rock to bounce your feet against while coming down. I stall again at the transition. Finally I sit in the harness and push my feet against the log. Again, it’s not bad at all. I’m back on the ground. I realize it was not too difficult, none of it was. Except that I had time to hum and haw before each transition, and I had somehow managed to make it harder.

Long story short, none of these things were particularly difficult or challenging. But the gap before each transition and the mental acrobatics I had filled that space with, increased the apprehension before the next thing.

I wonder how many things in life are easier than we make them out to be. And how many transitions, do we never overcome… 

Community

Like most people, the stabbing incident on the Portland Max was hard to get over. I could not stop thinking about it. Like all awful incidents, it chips away at our soul and makes us question life and its many unfathomable dimensions. Worse yet, is trying to make sense of it… for really, there is no making sense. There is simply no sense in it.

Like many sad incidents, this one was also about bravery and courage on the part of some incredible humans. And much as I tried to remember that, the matter would still not settle. I know there is no resolving certain things. Many things actually. By the end of the week, I wondered if there was a way to turn it into something good. On a whim, we sent out this email…

because life is sweet... even when events around us are unsavory. And to remember that, Anika and I will be doing a weekend of Sucre' after many years.

Sucre was a sweet summer venture my sweet child and I did about six years ago -- when we baked sweet treats once a week and donated proceeds to charity.

Am sure all of you are just as sad by the recent stabbing event on the Max. But it also brings to light that there is good, that there are good people around us, even when things are bad. We would like to donate the proceeds of the bake sale to the families of these brave victims.

And what a sweeter way to do so than with cupcakes. We will have rose, chocolate or red velvet cupcakes. Each cupcake $2. No frosting :) The sweet baker and I will be happy to make sweet deliveries too :)

Here's to adding a little sucre' (which in French, means sweetness) to our world.

~ Anika and Ruta

P.S. The rose cupcakes will be available today (Friday) 6:30 p.m. onwards and the chocolate or red velvet tomorrow (Saturday) late morning (depending on when the tween baker wakes up :) )

The response was amazing. Suddenly the oven was warmed, baking happened… a lot of baking… wonderful aromas wafted out of the kitchen… friends stopped by… cupcakes were distributed…smiles spread…it may all have been for a sad incident, but in the moment there was joy. In the moment I noticed how much others were similarly affected, and how much those around me seemed to want to do something about it. Be a part of something (even as insignificant as a bake sale) that acknowledged the wrong, and the brave, and tried to turn it into something good. We raised a little over three hundred dollars – all of which we donated. I wished I had more energy to bake more, for I know we would have sold more.

The amount may be a drop in the ocean, but it made me realize the strength of community. This community included folks of multiple ethnicities and religions. But none of it mattered. None of it matters. For all that matters is the strength that lies in it.  

Ordinarily, I would have made my donation, quietly, by myself. Ordinarily, I would have scribbled a few lines somewhere, quietly, by myself. This time, however, I included people around me (without thinking or realizing it… like many things I do… without thinking it through…). And in the generosity and perseverance of the community, I saw strength and healing and the reassurance that good will prevail. That there is much good, despite the awful incidents.

I hope we can always find ways to heal as a community… for there is much power in it.