I don't really re-read what I post on here too often. Occasionally, if I need a dose of perspective I'll take a tour through the posts I wrote while in the refugee camp, but it's rare I revisit my musings.
But I was looking at a program that shows the page views etc of this blog and I noticed a blog that had linked to mine that I had never read. So I went to check it out. It's called likeridingabicycle.blogspot.com and it's a blog of a good blog buddy of mine. I read this woman's post that mirrored my experience with my client that I had shared some of last year. And she linked to a couple of my posts that described the hearing in April 2008 and the fallout from that. I went back and re-read what I wrote, and read what she wrote, and it made me remarkably emotional.
It's amazing how easily you push down past experiences, carrying them with you, and move forward and selectively remember (or forget) the details that are the most difficult. And for the first time, I'm truly grateful I've had this living website where I can go back and read through some of my past, and allow those posts to let me feel like I am back in the moment.
I don't live my life with regrets, and I've been reminded of that today. It's still hard. And it's still sad. But it's life. And the only thing you can do is live it fully.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The News of a Passing
I was walking through Adams Morgan with my friend S on Saturday and we were chatting about the recent plane crash in Buffalo killing 50 people. I had read a little about it, what a tragedy of grand proportions, but had not fastidiously kept up on the news over the past week so only digested the snippets I caught in passing.
S asked me if I had read any of the bios of the victims, specifically the woman who was big into international aid work. I had not, though had heard there was an 9/11 widow on there, I'd not heard about anyone else and I doubted I would have any idea who the international aid person was.
As we walked out of the coffee shop we passed a stack of NY Times, and S picked it up and to my shock and profound sadness, I saw that the woman S was referring to was Alison Des Forges, the leading scholar and activist on Rwanda and a tireless of advocate before, during and after the genocide on international recognition and accountability.
When I was representing my asylum seeking client this past year, we had to build an army of experts to write affidavits in support of our client's story. This meant hours upon hours of research, cold calling, lots of emails, follow up emails, follow up follow up emails, normally resulting in1 out of about 15 responses to our begging for these people to let us explain our client's story. We found Alison's name early in the semester, and searched and searched for a way to find HER. The more we read the more we knew that it would be next to impossible to get someone of her expertise and her notoriety to ever speak with us about our little case, but we vowed to spend the semester trying.
Midway through the semester, we had a meeting with a woman who works for State who had been the acting ambassador from the US to Rwanda at the time of the genocide. She met with us over lunch, and spoke frankly about her experience, while listening to the story of our client. She asked who else we had spoken to, so we went through the list and at the end added the fact that we were trying to get in touch with Alison Des Forges, but we were having no luck finding any contact information.
The woman paused, and told us she would email Alison for us, and she could choose if she wanted to get in touch with us. And lo and behold, a few days later, she emailed us. It was an email explaining why she ultimately could not give us an affidavit or testimony, and wishing us luck, and our client luck. It was a gesture that was generous and at the time, while sleep deprived having only read anything about Rwanda for weeks, it was like getting a communication from God.
When I realized it was Alison Des Forges on that plane to Buffalo, I had to pause for a moment to collect myself. She was a woman to be emulated and her work affected millions of people and saved lives. She was the kind of human being we all should aspire to be, and is certainly the kind I will work to become for the rest of my life.
S asked me if I had read any of the bios of the victims, specifically the woman who was big into international aid work. I had not, though had heard there was an 9/11 widow on there, I'd not heard about anyone else and I doubted I would have any idea who the international aid person was.
As we walked out of the coffee shop we passed a stack of NY Times, and S picked it up and to my shock and profound sadness, I saw that the woman S was referring to was Alison Des Forges, the leading scholar and activist on Rwanda and a tireless of advocate before, during and after the genocide on international recognition and accountability.
When I was representing my asylum seeking client this past year, we had to build an army of experts to write affidavits in support of our client's story. This meant hours upon hours of research, cold calling, lots of emails, follow up emails, follow up follow up emails, normally resulting in1 out of about 15 responses to our begging for these people to let us explain our client's story. We found Alison's name early in the semester, and searched and searched for a way to find HER. The more we read the more we knew that it would be next to impossible to get someone of her expertise and her notoriety to ever speak with us about our little case, but we vowed to spend the semester trying.
Midway through the semester, we had a meeting with a woman who works for State who had been the acting ambassador from the US to Rwanda at the time of the genocide. She met with us over lunch, and spoke frankly about her experience, while listening to the story of our client. She asked who else we had spoken to, so we went through the list and at the end added the fact that we were trying to get in touch with Alison Des Forges, but we were having no luck finding any contact information.
The woman paused, and told us she would email Alison for us, and she could choose if she wanted to get in touch with us. And lo and behold, a few days later, she emailed us. It was an email explaining why she ultimately could not give us an affidavit or testimony, and wishing us luck, and our client luck. It was a gesture that was generous and at the time, while sleep deprived having only read anything about Rwanda for weeks, it was like getting a communication from God.
When I realized it was Alison Des Forges on that plane to Buffalo, I had to pause for a moment to collect myself. She was a woman to be emulated and her work affected millions of people and saved lives. She was the kind of human being we all should aspire to be, and is certainly the kind I will work to become for the rest of my life.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Passion
When was the last time you felt truly alive? Truly passionate about something? Was it yesterday? Maybe a month ago? As long as a year?
I've had the good fortune to experience things that make me passionate almost every....day, dare I say, from coming home from Mali. Passions differ-the intensity, the drive, the reason you want to feel passionate about something.
And I've taken to re-reading some of the things I wrote so long ago in 2006 when I was in Dadaab, and I feel that fire rekindling. I love challenges, I relish in them. I love being told that something is not quite reachable, and finding a way to do it. The opportunities don't come along very often. Peace Corps was one of them. And I persevered to be able to see the beauty in a group of women who had never been given the chance to take control of themselves. Dadaab was even more profound. The stimulation of giving yourself so wholly to other people, to do the very little a single person can do to alleviate suffering..it's euphoric and it's something I've not experienced in a long time.
I believe people individually have a greater calling. I re-read To Kill A Mockingbird this past summer, and I see that my father's greater calling is equality in representation, and compassion in that. I see my mother's being the divine ability to comfort children, parents, her kids and absolute strangers. My sister? My god, where do I begin? Her joy is extends beyond education, it encompasses all that is great and beautiful about human nature. She is a savior, and a kindred soul, and someone who is as generous and loving as anyone else in the world. And my brother, who loves loves loves the way he knows how, and is a protector, and confidante and a really remarkable friend.
And I struggle to find my place in that, even though in my heart of hearts I know exactly where it is. I'm not quitting my job, and I'm not doing anything drastic, but I'm clawing myself back to where I feel my own identity resides, which is in humanitarian aid.
I've spoken about my girlfriends many a time on this blog, and I love them more than any words could convey. And this past week our group has suffered a tremendous loss, a loss of one of our mothers. And my, how sad that journey has been. To see the devastation of one of our closest, our darlings, our sisters. And to know that we have the power to heal only in our own power to love, and sometimes that's not enough. And I am the most at ease, even when in tears outside the National Press Club building, comforting my friend, being an outlet.
The world of corporate law is not for me. I will never complain about the opportunity, or that I have a job, but my goodness does it make me feel vacant, and lonely.
I am the child of my parents. I have been raised in a manner that celebrates selflessness and compassion. And I think I'm just striving to get back to where I'm finally able to feel that within myself again.
I've had the good fortune to experience things that make me passionate almost every....day, dare I say, from coming home from Mali. Passions differ-the intensity, the drive, the reason you want to feel passionate about something.
And I've taken to re-reading some of the things I wrote so long ago in 2006 when I was in Dadaab, and I feel that fire rekindling. I love challenges, I relish in them. I love being told that something is not quite reachable, and finding a way to do it. The opportunities don't come along very often. Peace Corps was one of them. And I persevered to be able to see the beauty in a group of women who had never been given the chance to take control of themselves. Dadaab was even more profound. The stimulation of giving yourself so wholly to other people, to do the very little a single person can do to alleviate suffering..it's euphoric and it's something I've not experienced in a long time.
I believe people individually have a greater calling. I re-read To Kill A Mockingbird this past summer, and I see that my father's greater calling is equality in representation, and compassion in that. I see my mother's being the divine ability to comfort children, parents, her kids and absolute strangers. My sister? My god, where do I begin? Her joy is extends beyond education, it encompasses all that is great and beautiful about human nature. She is a savior, and a kindred soul, and someone who is as generous and loving as anyone else in the world. And my brother, who loves loves loves the way he knows how, and is a protector, and confidante and a really remarkable friend.
And I struggle to find my place in that, even though in my heart of hearts I know exactly where it is. I'm not quitting my job, and I'm not doing anything drastic, but I'm clawing myself back to where I feel my own identity resides, which is in humanitarian aid.
I've spoken about my girlfriends many a time on this blog, and I love them more than any words could convey. And this past week our group has suffered a tremendous loss, a loss of one of our mothers. And my, how sad that journey has been. To see the devastation of one of our closest, our darlings, our sisters. And to know that we have the power to heal only in our own power to love, and sometimes that's not enough. And I am the most at ease, even when in tears outside the National Press Club building, comforting my friend, being an outlet.
The world of corporate law is not for me. I will never complain about the opportunity, or that I have a job, but my goodness does it make me feel vacant, and lonely.
I am the child of my parents. I have been raised in a manner that celebrates selflessness and compassion. And I think I'm just striving to get back to where I'm finally able to feel that within myself again.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Chirp...Chirp...
This is the second post that's starting with "So it's been a long time...". But this time it really really has. And I have plenty of excuses for that...
But none of those will be written about, at least not immediately. I've been thinking a lot of about the trajectory of my life as of late. Thinking is the operative word, because I've certainly not been having deep discussions about it with family or many friends. I've thought about what makes us happy, and what makes me happy.
Doing well at work. Those days are good. Really good. Particularly when you've only been doing something for 5 months and those days are relative dots in the landscape of being lost in the weeds trying to look up and see the light shining through. I've had a couple of those really good days in the last 5 months. But they have yet to be quite prominent in the grand scheme of things.
I've thought a lot about my former client, as well. Her daughter turned one a couple of weeks ago, and I marked the day thinking that it had been one year when the single greatest learning experience of my life began at the same time as what would turn out to be devastating, demoralizing and just plain maddening. I've thought about it because I realize that those 8 months spent representing her, as hard and at time trying as they were, made me feel truly great. I compare it to what I'm doing now and have a sense of...longing, I suppose.
I don't know if any of you guys noticed (or if any of you guys ever check this anymore), but since the last time I wrote our economy is kind of in the toilet. Now is not the time when sane people start looking for new jobs. Now is the time when the people who have lost their jobs scoop those open jobs up and the rest of us shut up, keep our heads down and be thankful that we're still sitting behind a desk. And don't get me wrong, I am remarkably thankful. More so than I could possibly put into words (though, knowing me, I'll likely try at some point). But I've made the decision to start the process of finding a job doing what I love more than corporate transactional work, and I'm pretty stoked about it.
So. There you have it. Not the most earth shattering post from my 5 month hiatus, but we have to start somewhere, right?
But none of those will be written about, at least not immediately. I've been thinking a lot of about the trajectory of my life as of late. Thinking is the operative word, because I've certainly not been having deep discussions about it with family or many friends. I've thought about what makes us happy, and what makes me happy.
Doing well at work. Those days are good. Really good. Particularly when you've only been doing something for 5 months and those days are relative dots in the landscape of being lost in the weeds trying to look up and see the light shining through. I've had a couple of those really good days in the last 5 months. But they have yet to be quite prominent in the grand scheme of things.
I've thought a lot about my former client, as well. Her daughter turned one a couple of weeks ago, and I marked the day thinking that it had been one year when the single greatest learning experience of my life began at the same time as what would turn out to be devastating, demoralizing and just plain maddening. I've thought about it because I realize that those 8 months spent representing her, as hard and at time trying as they were, made me feel truly great. I compare it to what I'm doing now and have a sense of...longing, I suppose.
I don't know if any of you guys noticed (or if any of you guys ever check this anymore), but since the last time I wrote our economy is kind of in the toilet. Now is not the time when sane people start looking for new jobs. Now is the time when the people who have lost their jobs scoop those open jobs up and the rest of us shut up, keep our heads down and be thankful that we're still sitting behind a desk. And don't get me wrong, I am remarkably thankful. More so than I could possibly put into words (though, knowing me, I'll likely try at some point). But I've made the decision to start the process of finding a job doing what I love more than corporate transactional work, and I'm pretty stoked about it.
So. There you have it. Not the most earth shattering post from my 5 month hiatus, but we have to start somewhere, right?
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