Hoarfrost

Some words are like a long forgotten scent. The moment you smell it, it brings back a flood of memories and with them, emotions. I stumbled upon hoarfrost in one my books of words and a punch of nostalgia swept me back to my childhood, the old house, on rural route 2.

The word burning furnace in the basement blithely belching up heat through the vents. The windows have an icy bite on our noses. My little sister and I tugging at our snowsuits in the closet, eager to trade mobility of limbs for a chance to play in the snow.

The smell of the polyester lining and fiberfill of the snowsuits, the cotton of our gloves, the wool in our caps. The must from the lining and rubber of our snow boots. The comedy of trying to turn the round brass door knob with our gloved hands. The cool smell of concrete, sawdust, gas and oil from the garage. The burst of cold when the garage door opened, our eyes squinting from all the light.

The first few steps, timid, testing, a turn in the direction of the wind, feeling the pink in our cheeks rise to meet the icy breeze. We scramble to the front yard, everything is white. Across the driveway the barn and the garden sit stoically, dusted with a fine sheen of white.  We reach the top of hill where we throw ourselves down upon the ground, expecting a glorious glide to the bottom.  We are stuck, not enough snow.

We roll down the hill like in the summer when the grass is dry and the breeze is just so. We topple over each other, laughing, resting halfway down the hill. On our backs, we watch the sky and listen to the breeze in the skeletons of the woods. We could go and walk the trails, up along the high path, past the ironwood tree, around the back of the house. Or the low path that followed the tream from the York's pond. We could go off trail in the back to the field where deer liked to graze.

Instead we just layed there, watching our breath rise from us like the smoke stack at lone-star industries.  Listening to the wind play in the branches, fly across the icy grass of the yard. Feeling the cold starting to seep in at the seams around the neck, ankles and wrists. The rush of air in our lungs as it enters cold and sharp and leaves warm and moist.

And then the light crinkle crunch of the hoarfrost underfoot as we got up and headed towards the backyard. Leaving a backwards trail of footprints to the soft imprint of two small bodies on the side of a hill; their tumbling impressions rising upwards and disappearing over the top of the hill.

Anneal

Traditionally a scientific term, I'm drawn more to anneal's less formal definition. Metal or other substances can be heated and then cooled slowly which makes the material stronger. Applying heat allows the atoms or molecules to align themselves thereby reducing the amount of inconsistencies and makes the material more durable. Samurai swords are fabricated in this manner, repeatedly heating and cooling the sword to increase it's strength.

Anneal can also be used to describe a strengthening of will or resolve. One source extends the definition further, "to strengthen or toughen via difficult situation s and experience." That definition is what really drew me to this word. I love love love this definition, and was a bit disappointed that the traditional definition is more common.

It made me think of the hardships I have been through and the lessons I took from those experiences. What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. I was tempted to write to one of those hardships; driving my mother to the hospital as she was suffering a stroke, hearing the Artistic Director of a BFA program that I sincerely bought into (with huge loans) say that marketable skills are for grad school, saying goodbye to an abusive father dying of alcohol induced dementia. These are all pivotal episodes of my life and helped shape who I am.

But these episodes are not what makes me who I am. My response to them, how I dealt with these episodes is what truly defines who I am. And I'm not unaware of the privilege I have, the perverse luxury that at age 21, 9-11 was only my first terrorist attack. But I am not here to measure myself, my life experiences, or my accomplishments.  I am proud of myself. That's not always easy to say when your peers are in movies, having their movies made, picking up tours and creating new work with fabulous grants.

One of the more difficult challenges with my unemployment is strengthening my resolve to pursue work and find the next chapter. It's far easier to sit on facebook all day and watch the lives of others online.  Or to rationalize my procrastination with heartfelt platitudes, 'I'm taking time to find me.' 'Really centering myself.' There is the danger that reminding oneself of your trials and tribulations that you will fall into a spiral of victimhood.  I think that is why I find anneal to be a truly beautiful word. It embodies the positive outcomes from tragedy.

My positive outcomes from personal tragedies are something to be proud of, they should be honored, and respected regardless of my privilege. What I find is that, in an act of self-perpetuation, reminding myself of my past anneal-ings, I resolve myself again for the task at hand. Conveniently, it is itself its own upward spiral.

Abecedarian

I signed up for my first career fair as an officially unemployed person. Visions of dynamic exchanges with representatives from various industries were balanced with memories from past career fairs. Nonetheless, I am at the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one where, hopefully, I choose the course it takes. 

I am reminded of my new divers. They have only just had their first practice and already they are ripping their entires on their line-ups. I was careful this goa round to make sure that we laid a strong foundation for them to build from. They have mostly bought into the idea that certain basic skills will carry them farther through diving. This is true, but it's a hard truth to adopt.

The word I've chosen today, to symbolically mark the beginning of my search for my new career is abecedarian.  It has an interesting history, stemming from a German 16th century religious sect. They valued divine insight and instruction of the learning and knowledge of man. It's reminiscent of the Tea Party, but that's another blog entry. They disavowed knowledge of the first letters of the alphabet, hence 'ABC-darians.' The irony is that the name they became known for included what they trying to avoid knowing.

Now it's a word to describe someone who is learning the alphabet and by extension, basic skills. My beginner divers are abecedarians at this new sport. I feel as though I am an abecedarian, only the skills are not as clearly laid out in front of me. 

My coach is unemployed life right now, and there are basic tasks, skills to acquire, that will carry me through this next chapter. Skills like writing every day, reading every day. Scheduling time for my activities and developing more discipline. My divers are learning slowly, progressively, and not without making mistakes. These can easily be corrected now. I too am learning, progressively and making mistakes; sleeping in, indulging in the luxury and privilege I have now, changing plans. 

What I appreciate about abecedarian and applying it to my next steps is that it reminds me that though the ultimate goal is a new career, there is an alphabet to learn, there are basic skills I can still acquire.  As a coach, I wholeheartedly believe in learning the fundamentals before progressing. While the delayed gratification can be trying, there is the faith that going back to basics, putting yourself in the shoes of a beginner, can take you further on a journey.  Currently, I'm an abecedarian in my new life, a beginner, a student, and ready to learn.

Gratitude

I was laid off from my job, ending a nearly 7 year run at a commercial real estate investment bank. What started as a short term temp job to tide me over while I worked on a show, became an opportunity to pay off my debts at an accelerated rate. The work was hard, but I did my job well and was promoted to Associate and enjoyed very comprehensive benefits.

The layoff was not a surprise but what was surprising was my reaction. I thought I would be more emotional but I was calm and collected. The day passed very smoothly, and i said my goodbye's and everyone was generally sad to see me go. I told people that I had a lot of feelings and that there were too many to focus on just one.

After work I sat down and began making lists and rules for how I'm going to move forward with my newfound freedom. One of the items that came up was "express gratitude." It's an item that really stood out for me, and probably should go up to the top of the list. For much of my work there, I felt a lot of resentment. Profound resentment, at my life, my situation, my options. I tried to keep most of it to myself, but every once in a while, it would spark up.

I was resentful about my NYU Education and the economic burden it placed on me. I resented what I felt was a higher ed swindle, when behind closed doors, the administration described marketable skills as something reserved for grad school. I knew I'm not alone in these challenges, but that did not comfort me.  I had to keep myself from resenting people more fortunate than myself. Sometimes it worked.

And now that my tenure as an office drone is over, and I have the freedom and opportunity to pursue my passions, I am filled with gratitude. The storm has finally passed, the cloud has lifted and the path ahead is clear.

My curiosity for the future is outweighing my consideration for the past too. Part of me wonders if I feel gratitude for my time in the corporate trenches, if I'm grateful for the financial burden NYU placed on me, if it made me stronger and more resolute. Or if my feeling of gratitude for where I am now and the opportunities ahead simply outweigh and neutralize those past feelings of resentment. With the world opening up for me, I simply don't have the temerity to tie up those grimy loose ends; the past is indeed the past and behind me now.

It's exhilarating, this weight that has been lifted. At the same time, I don't want to lose myself in this new social, metaphysical environment I find myself. I hold that self reflection is a fundamental value. I need this place to be sustainable. It's not enough to just feel gratitude, you have to express it. It's a flower that has grown from a very thorny vine, clinging to a thankless wall. Expressing gratitude plans seeds for other people and nourished their own lives. And it nourishes your own vine too. I'm grateful for many things, too many perhaps to parse out and itemize here. Grateful for the word that encapsulates this feeling.

Compersion

I love when words have stories, and this one gets very personal. I hope you will approach it with an open mind, and an open heart, even though it may challenge you. There are few words I know of that simultaneously threaten and absolve, which explains in part my adoration of this word.

In 2008, I met a handsome and charming man at the Philly Gay Rodeo, it was a magical moment. Alas, he lived in Pennsylvania and I lived in Brooklyn. Nevertheless, we began to date and tried to make it work.  He had a background in gender and sexuality studies and made it clear from the get go that he would need an open relationship.

This was a new frontier for me. Though I knew of couples who were open themselves, I trended monogamous in my relationships. He was different and I figured, it's only the first couple of months, let's see what this is like. I asked him for information on this kind of arrangement. That's when he introduced me to the word, compersion.

Compersion is the inverse of jealousy. We are jealous of someone who has something we do not have. Perhaps we are jealous of someone who has someone we don't have. We discussed a little about the patriarchal paradigms of ownership, and how men are not predisposed to be monogamous. He proposed this viewpoint, "What if I did something I love to do. Would that make you happy?"

Of course. And that's the key to compersion. Having joy in other's joy. I can't admit a fondness of open relationships for myself, but I love this word. It lives in a paradigm of abundance, that there is a lot of love, a lot of joy, a lot of trust and a lot of freedom. Sounds almost too good to be true!

Too many times I hear of my colleagues' success and I have to confess there's always a mysterious mixture of regret, envy, self-pity. I know that their achievements don't diminish my own, or take away from my potential, but that's not always how it feels!

I try now to take the inverse approach and share in the feeling of their success. It's not easy, but it's definitely preferable. This law of compersion would make a great addition to any relationship, regardless of it's status or arrangement. How wonderful is it that there is a word for taking pleasure and satisfaction when someone you love does something that brings them happiness and pleasure. I'll take that over jealousy, envy and regret any day.