Speak Loudly and Carry a Humble Stick

I gave my first lecture today.

I knew I would speak too fast at the beginning. I did.

I knew that I would, at some point, discover that I had made and uncaught mistake on one of my slides. I did.

What I didn't know was that I talked a bit too much with my back to the group. I kept the students to time on a Friday (which is one of the 7 deadly sins of teaching). And I tried to cram things in at the end, because I felt that it was my obligation to get through all of the material.

What I was confident in was that I was about as prepared for a speech as I have ever been. This is both exciting and a bit scary. By this I mean that I definitely could've been more prepared. I could've run through things once more. But as the great Goethe once said, "Life is lived forward, but understood backward." On a side note, I also wish that I had made some notes before giving my best man speech at Jens' wedding. If only I'd done it in powerpoint.

But to those of you who were/are not able to see me going through this stretching, challenging, humbling experience of graduate school, I want to do by best to share these kinds of moments with you all.

That said, this week is ending (with this successful, mostly well-prepared lecture) on a very appropriate note. That is on a note of growth.

Last weekend was fall break, and marked, more or less, the mid-way point of this first semester here. I don't know how well my first and few posts during these first few months conveyed my sense of unbelonging, questioning, and wondering if I could really do this. Well, I'm telling you know, I definitely had my doubts. I doubted whether I could organize my scattered self enough to present a clear presentation. I doubted whether I could stay on top of all the scheduling details involved in managing classes, being a ta, living on my own, and all in a totally new place. I doubted myself.

This isn't to say the the nagging voice of doubt doesn't still occasionally whisper sour somethings in my mind's ear. But after this week, I have started to feel that sense of confidence that really can only come with experience of actually doing something. Despite of my doubt, I have been here for half a semester, and I'm still here. Additionally, I am doing well in my classes. Despite my old habits of flying by the seat of my pants, doing things off the top of my head, and simply just getting by by the skin of my teeth- I am actually doing quite well. I am doing it. And perhaps more important than that, I am starting to feel like I belong here.

Confidence is a strange thing. I mean, when you feel unconfident, people react to you the way I think most of us naturally react to people with depression. That is, with a feeling something like "dude, just be more confident in yourself". I am learning that confidence (much like with depression) can come only with the experience(s) of things which allow us to experience ourselves as confident. This can be a kind friend who sees us for who we are truly are. This can be finally working a job that you are good at. This can be getting even just a bit better at something that is quite difficult for you.

The tricky part is that we also have to allow ourselves to experience these things as confident experiences. It's always possible to brush off a friend's kind words with- "oh they're just saying that." Or to finally make that public speech, and think, "that was just one time- I was just lucky."
Ok, I'm starting to sound like Dr. Phil. But you get what I'm saying.

Anyhow, with the experiences of living on my own, figuring out a busy schedule, and making organized presentations- I am beginning to experience some sense of confidence.

One of my favorite little, but profound thoughts comes from the Buddhist community. I'm not sure of the exact origins, or where I heard it, but it's powerful. As I can best recall, it was some Western psychotherapists consulting with some Buddhist monks on the recent influence of Eastern thought on psychotherapy and the implications of its applicability. More specifically, the topic of conversation was the widespread experience of self-hatred for Western people. The monks couldn't understand. Literally, they could NOT conceive of HOW someone could hate themselves. The holistic, interconnected foundation of Buddhist thought, prevented them from even having the option to have anything other than holy regard for themselves. I love that.

Fall Break: Simple Pleasures and Duties

Hopped on the good ole Greyhound Bus yesterday around 6pm and pulled into Atlanta last night around 10pm. Watched about half of the dvd my friend Nikki loaned me ("Singles"), as my computer's battery wasn't fully charged. Had a couple of nice chats with different folks (mom, michael fox, and the grandparents). Finished off the last hour with some Ipod. Four hours? No problem.

Phil picked me up at the expectedly sketchy bus depot in downtown Atlanta. Seriously though-there's a strip club right across the street- not to mention the 50 or so businesses dedicated solely to bail bonds. Funny. We got home and, of course, Phil had prepared extra dinner for me. Could I have a better cousin? We re-instituted our summer evening ritual of a round of Wii Golf. I was rusty.

I had good night's sleep (thanks Gabriella for sleeping through the night). Woke up this morning and sipped coffee while watching the little one run around and be cute- she was loving jumping on the air mattress. Went for a nice run. Had a hot shower. I pretty much decided prior to coming down here that I wanted relaxing mornings such as this (with plenty of watching and playing with the little one) followed by productive afternoons (ethics test and presentation due next week).

I have now been working more or less for the last 4 hours. Got some good ground covered on my presentation. Got a good start on studying for my Ethics Test. And now I'm ready for an evening with the Atlanta crew. It's so nice to have family so close. What a blessing.

The power of facebook and a well-placed kick in the ass

You know how to tell the great friends from the good friends? The good ones are sweet, kind, there when you need a boost or a hug. The great friends are the ones who know you so well and love you so much that they aren't afraid to kick you square in the ass and tell you to snap out of it. Dana Anderson- my mentor and former professor from PLU- is one such friend.

Despite feeling like I have gotten a little more confident and competent each week that I've been here, it's not been a perfectly linear process. Apparently some of my posts on facebook have indicated that my attitude toward grad school has been somewhat less than enthusiastic. I mean we all need a place to vent and get out our frustrations. I guess that my operating within a much more demanding time-management framework, I've begun to opt for the quick public quip on facebook instead of the more in-depth, more private rant on the blog.

At any rate, I got an email this morning from Dana that quite clearly and powerfully reminded me that I chose to do this. Additionally, he reminded me, that even more than that this experience is supposed to be tough. To truly become the kind of person who can work well and competently with peoples particular pain, suffering, diverse experience, and their corresponding journey to better deal with these things, doesn't that ask of all us potential practitioners, that we do likewise?! If we are to talk the talk, we better walk the walk. Perhaps most poignantly, he reminded me that the sooner I'm able to view the challenges as hurdles to master (not just hoops that must be jumped through)- I'll be better able to appreciate the process of graduate school growth.

As fate would have it, I was just waking up in my morning mental fog, when I started reading Dana's email. As I began my day with my usual French-press ritual, I realized while reading his sharp but timely words, that I was drinking out of my PLU coffee mug! I love little moments like that.

Thanks for the well-placed kick Dana-