"I was puppet dancing to the max!"

As a white American female, attending the University of Notre Dame, there are not very many times when I have the experience of being within a minority group. I tend to blend in with the outward appearance of the crowd and find comfort in knowing how to move and converse with those around me. Though, there are many things that set me apart as an individual, there are more things that make me a prototype of privileged white culture. 

This past weekend was a celebration of such around campus. It was the Blue and Gold football scrimmage, which brought with it patronizing alums, elaborate tailgates, and drunk collegiates and grad students who dedicated a 72 degree beautiful day in South Bend to the pursuit of blackout status. In the fall the MBA school hosts the most raucous tailgate of all, complete with a stereo system set to the Linebacker's greatest hits and many drunk 30 year olds dancing while eating chick-fillet and guzzling beer. This spring tailgate was a little tamer - - not as much shotgunning, not as much dancing. I was a little disappointed by the lack of dancing and ended up leaving the tailgate prematurely to attend various sporting events around campus.

In the evening I went to a rock concert. It probably was the fifth concert that I have been to in my entire life. The ones that I can recount are Dave Matthews Band circa 1998, TLC in 1999, Justin Timberlake in 2007, and Willie Nelson at Rivinia last summer. Besides that, my live music experiences have been concentrated on symphonic, operatic, and musical performances. So this pathetic list of attended concerts is rather embarrassing to say the least. The band was Umphree's McGee. Those familiar with this band appreciate their jam sessions, but I found their sound very loud and confusing. What I found more confusing though was how out of place I was in the crowd. In downtown South Bend, where I have never felt out of place within the walls of such places as Finnegans or Corby's, I was suddenly very self-aware. I had just come from a dinner party and was wearing nice jeans, a wrap-around sweater, and espadrilles. Those around me were wearing Harry Potter hats, grass skirts, no shirts, no shoes, and accessories like kazoos. My hair was neatly tied back in a pony-tail and my face slightly made-up. Those around me had their hair knotted up in dreadlocks and hadn't even washed their faces. 

For a lack of better title, the "hippies" engaged in gyration all around me - - a form of dance, movement, appreciation that I didn't understand. They bounced back and forth with the music, cheered when the band started jamming, waved their hands all around them, and looked to be having the greatest time. I just stood there afraid that everyone was judging me for not fitting in. I observed the sights, took in the smells of marijuana that permeated the air, and tried not to cover my ears when the music got more and more intense. 

I started to think about why I felt so awkward participating in this culture and in particular this dance. I LOVE dancing. And this dance that everyone around me was doing, wasn't that hard. I could have circled my arms and hands around my body, I could have bobbed back and forth with the crowd, but I just stood there. Whenever I go to a wedding, a formal dance, a bar, or a party where popular music is playing, I am the first one to run onto the dance floor and start flailing my body in every which way. I have no need to be utterly inebriated before performing what some have called puppet dancing and others have called public aerobics. I love the ability to pour my energy into the room and be the catalyst to what will soon turn into a rocking dance floor. My friends will wait until they are 2,3, or even 4 or 5 drinks deep before joining me. The alcohol somehow gives them the courage they need to express themselves rhythmically. I wonder why this is ... why are we scared to dance at times? Why did I feel so against dancing the hippy dance, and why do I lead the charge when the music is set to a dance club soundscape?

I think it's all about being in our comfort zone. If we feel out of place we don't want to draw more attention to ourselves. Dancing has become an activity that makes everyone feel a little awkward. My generation, for the most part, did grow up with social dancing lessons. We learned how to move from music videos or movies. Because most of the population is so unsure of their ability to dance it is largely done under the mind altering effects of drugs or alcohol. Most of the hippies around me at the concert were high on something or other. Most of the domers at the bar are wasted by the time they finally make it over to the dance floor. The "dance club" in South Bend requires significant pre-gaming before anyone will make their way onto the s

tage, or even into the establishment. I remember when I was at a high school dance, where I displayed the origins of my more evolved puppet dancing, the teacher chaperones confronted me to ask if I had been drinking. I had not had a sip alcohol that night, but they immediately assumed that my excitement at the music and dance floor was a sign that I was under the influence. 

I don't really know where I am going with this, but I thought all of this was interesting. I think if I dedicated my time to doing more research about dancing and our consumer behavior toward dancing, I would arrive at some interesting findings. However, I don't have time for that this morning. So, I will leave you with this challenge. This weekend, whether you are at the bar, a house party, a concert, or a wedding, try a new dance - - a dance that doesn't require being blackout drunk or the accompaniment of those you feel comfortable alongside. Get out on the dance floor early and often, forget about the onlookers and jealous judgers. Express yourself as you would in your car or while at home alone. It feels great and if you are as crazy as me on the dance floor, it is the best workout you will ever have! 

In the eternal words of Lady GaGa ... "Just Dance!"

Lo  

 

No Regrets?

Whenever I have the opportunity to hear a big-wig speak, there seems to be a common theme that these all-wise, all-knowing individuals have no regrets in their life - - that everything they have done has been a tremendous experience and has led them to their mighty perch today. 

What a wonderful feeling that must be. 

Where I stand today, which seems like base camp, I look back on certain choices I have made over the past decade and wonder whether or not they weren't filled with mistakes. Again, I am facing a looming graduation from Notre Dame without a job. It happened in 2004 and it is about to happen again. The last time, I was focused on the lacrosse season, so any anxiety I felt at that time was around winning a National Championship (which didn't happen.) Today, my sole anxiety is finding a job - - a job that I like, that pays well, and that lands me in the Chicago area. I have been networking and I actually had 2 interviews over the past 2 weeks, but nothing is set in stone yet. Even my alleged guaranteed job offer from my internship this summer has more or less vanished, as there are no open positions due to the economy. I keep telling myself (as everyone else does) that things will fall into place, but I can't help but think ... what if I did this ... what if I had done that ... wouldn't I be stress-free now?

Here are some of those what ifs ... or potential regrets:

I went to get my undergraduate degree from Notre Dame and was originally in the business school. I had a hunch that this is where my talent might be. However, I found the large economics class I took 2nd semester of Freshman year, inadequate, so switched into the school of Art and Letters and became a verbose, idealist liberal arts student focusing on Art History. Potential Regret #1 - Not putting up with 400-person business school lectures, seeking the 8-person seminar, and being an artsy, fartsy student who spent too much time making ceramic bowls. 

When everyone in the business school was getting dressed in their business professional attire to peddle themselves at career fairs, and while the Arts and Letters students were figuring out which non-profit, version of teach for the underprivileged, or peace making effort to join, I was working with a career counselor to discern my personality type. I met with the same woman about 5 times and each session produced the same result, which I kind of already knew - - that I am scatter brained and indecisive. Potential Regret #2 - Trying to figure out the best fit for me at the time, when I should have just dived into the recruiting mess and found a job as a cookie-cutter consultant. 

When we lost to Northwestern in the NCAA tournament in 2004, I walked off the field crying. I don't really think it was because we lost, though it looked great and dramatic on camera. Instead, it was because I didn't know what to do next. I didn't have any more goals on or off the field for which to strive. I went back to Pittsburgh after graduation, lived with my parents, and tried to figure out what would be next. Because I always wanted to work at and own my own restaurant, I learned the ways of fine-dining restaurant management and managed a big contemporary American themed restaurant for over 2 years. Potential Regret #3 - Never work in a restaurant! Bad for your health, stability, social life, and motivation. Also, will lead you to daily incidences of sexual harassment. 

Because I knew I needed to redirect and further my education, I applied, got in, and went to business school. I had a vague idea of what I wanted to get out of it, but I soon learned that most people had a definitive plan. They wanted to solve the energy crisis, make a mint as the next super star Hedge Fund manager, run a non-profit in Africa, be a consultant at McKinsey, or get married. I thought marketing, but didn't know a thing about marketing. Instead of focusing on the career search as soon as I set foot in the door, I thought, wow, I am one of 10 girls in the program, and I haven't had the opportunity to party at dive bars in years! So ... I put on ridiculous outfits everyday and sipped cocktails every night. I was distracted by the social scene, and tried to distance myself from the dorky student I was in undergrad. Potential Regret #4 - Should have really concentrated in Stats, Economics and other technical classes from day 1! And shouldn't have wasted all my savings on going out, buying new clothes, and going on costly excursions in the first semester of school. 

I really shouldn't complain about B-school though. The first year turned out to be great, as did the 2nd year. I have learned SO much and gained a lot of confidence in problem solving and team leadership. However, I continued to put the job search off. I managed to get a great internship over the summer, which showed promise of a job offer. However, that job offer vanished when the economy took a turn for the worst. I guess the final potential regret, would have been to get on the job search as soon as I came back after summer, and reach out to various companies. The problem was that I still didn't know exactly what I wanted to do and how to voice it until last module, which was in March or so. I still am sold on a career path, but I have found a great intersection of my skills, interests, and natural talents in a couple of functional areas in the Food Service Industry. We'll see where these latest interviews lead me, but for now, I still have stress on my mind. 

So ... one day when I have achieved the lofty state of all-wise business leader, and speak to the young business minds at Notre Dame, I would love to say that I have gone through life without a regret. I think in the grand scheme of things, that everything that I have done will add up to something amazing - - that all my experiences will contribute to my sense of self and make me a better business leader. It is hard at times though, to see how everything fits together. However, working on my resume, cover letter, and interview spiel has let me make sense of some of the discontinuities. 

At this point, I can clearly say to myself, if I didn't make the choices I did, if i didn't have the experiences as artist, athlete, server, restaurant manager, and hat-sporting social butterfly, I wouldn't have had such a great conversation at CJs the first night of MBA orientation, which has lead to the most amazing relationship with the most amazing boyfriend. If I hadn't gone through the learning curve of business jargon and "skills," I wouldn't be as excited about continuing my education and learning more on the job. And if I hadn't listened to my gut interests and motivations, I would have most likely been a very unhappy consultant in Pittsburgh, trying to find my future husband in line at Kennywood. 

I wish you the ability to see the benefit in all that you do, and to not get discouraged when things don't look as you pictured them. There is most likely a reason, or a method to the madness. Just keep making the most of every opportunity that comes your way, and eventually the rewarding job or scenario, not as you imagined, but fabulous just the same, will happen for you. 

Lo 

We Move in Mysterious Ways

This Sunday was Easter. When I was young, Easter Sunday meant a couple of things: the ability to eat lots of chocolate as soon as I woke up, an Easter basket with the newest Disney VHS, a very long church service, brunch at my country club, an Easter Egg hunt at my grandparent's house, ham with raisin sauce, rolls shaped like Easter bunnies, and the ability to eat more chocolate into the night in shapes ranging from crosses to carrots. 

This year, I was in South Bend for Easter. My family and I celebrated at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on Notre Dame's campus with a standing room only crowd. The mass was replete with ceremonial processions, incense, hymns that sounded like victory marches for the Catholic Church  ("This is the feast of victory for our God ... Alleluia!"), and tons of people that poured in despite the lack of seating. This high mass was the high point of my Easter Sunday. The following activities of brunch and Easter basket consumption (yes I still get an Easter basket at age 27) had lost their luster as I have become increasingly wary of how too many eggs, bacon, hash browns, and chocolates will affect one's waistline. 

So my holiday was focused on the commemoration and celebration of the great mystery of Jesus' resurrection and his powerful love for humanity, which dominates even the greatest sins. Father Rocca's homily spoke of this puzzling event, and it made me think about the concept of mystery in our lives. As a Catholic, my faith is filled with elements that lie outside of human understanding. It is very hard to explain my beliefs to others at times, and it is frustrating when I cannot satisfy someone's request for justification and reason to queries concerning Christianity. 

In my qualitative market research course last week, I came upon an interesting insight into how to explain mystery. We listened to a spontaneous focus group that my professor conducted when he attended the Burning Man Festival. In an attempt to learn more about the sacred elements of the anti-marketing / consumerist festival, he gained access to the "Women's Temple" and spoke with what he called, "the mother bear," and two of her followers. The Women's Temple was a celebration of femininity. It offered support to and worship of the sacred feminine mysteries. During the focus group session, "the mother bear" offered a particularly interesting explanation. She spoke about the unique mysteries of man and woman, and that man can only gain limited access to the female experience. She stated that it is only within a healthy and mutually respectful union of man and woman, that one can find harmony. During the interview my professor probed into her concept of mystery - - "what does mystery mean?" She stated that it was something unexplainable and that it could only be defined in an experience -- since man can never inhabit a female body, he will never understand the full experience of womanhood. 

Though I found the focus group and the dialogue odd, I thought the insight about mystery and our unique mysteries was wonderful. It helped me to explain my faith better. The great parts of Christian faith are divine mysteries, and as humans, we are unable to comprehend them in their entirety. However, I have had experiences that make me certain of my faith. These powerful experiences might be revealed in a church, while with a friend or family member, in silent prayer, or on a run in the morning. I can explain the scenario, the thought processes, and the conversation. However, the underlying feeling of assurance, love, thanksgiving, etc., cannot be fully described. 

Besides in our faith life, I think we need to view our human relationships as mysteries not fully revealed as well. Even though one thinks one knows someone very well, there are elements that are never fully understandable, because one has not lived through the other's experiences. Each one of us is filled with unique qualities that can only be revealed over time. It is easier in life to classify people and not devote time to understanding them. It is also easier to close one's self and not permit others to enter your personage. However, by doing either or both of these things, we fail to experience the rich and beautiful nature of humanity.

My advice today is to open yourself to the complexities of humanity - - to listen to the people that you encounter through the day, and to (for lack of a better cliche) put yourself in their shoes. At the same time, open yourself up. Share your experiences so that your mystery can be revealed to others. Have faith in your friends and family members, and if you begin to question that faith seek the answers that lie deep under the surface.  

Lo 

 

Lovingly Prepared

I have a love / hate relationship with food. 

My love stems from the essence of the individual ingredients and the rich flavor profiles that emerge after combining them; the nourishing and sacramental qualities and connotations, which embody food; the literature about the people and places that define the industry; the artisans and chefs that painstakingly experiment till they reach perfection; and the universal understanding of the love behind a meal, hand-crafted for someone else. I am reading a book about artisanal baking, and there is a wonderful image at the beginning. The author, Maggie Glezer, describes a scene at a hostess' house where Lionel Poilane (a masterful French baker) is being entertained. The hostess sets down a basket of bread at dinner and immediately apologizes saying that she has made it herself and it doesn't compare to Poilane's masterpieces. Poilane states in response, "on the contrary, this bread is far better than anything I have ever sold, for you have made it to feed your family - with your own two hands and all your heart." This is what I truly love about meal preparation and service - it becomes my gift to others, an offering of my time and talent, though it may not be the same quality you find in a five star restaurant. 

My hate of food stems only from the repercussions of eating too much of it. It seems impossible as a woman to totally succumb to the pleasures that arise from food and simultaneously keep one's girlish figure. As my family can attest, I have an addiction to sampling - - to trying a little bit here and there, skimming some off of the top, finding that piece of dark chocolate that lies in the Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk, going to Whole Foods just to try their latest display of cheeses, and reaching across the table to try everyone else's meal while I "just have a salad." Any foodie would find the hatred side of my relationship appalling. Tasting, appreciation, and respect is at the forefront of their dedication to the art of food. Though I cannot say that I will kick my obsessive calorie consciousness immediately, winning over the foodie's admiration, I believe I have made great strides in that direction. 

I have converted to cooking with and eating real food (as opposed to diet food) for a good portion of the week. I used to think "lean," "fat free," "low sodium," "low in calorie," "Pam," etc. were a woman's best friend. However, I found out that all those descriptors actually mean bland, chewy, artificial and "please pass the salt!" When I cook for others I now use whole milk and cream, the combination of butter and olive oil, generous portions of salt, bacon and its grease drippings, and the red meat with fat as opposed to the trimmed down version. The difference in the quality of the meal prepared with a rich portfolio of ingredients instead of their lighter relatives is astronomical! The taste that derives from authenticity, precision, and diligence is far superior than a haphazard meal or diet solution.   

This conversion in my cooking and eating habits characterizes other aspects in my life. During the past 2 years of school, I feel that my hobbies, interests, and educational experiences have been enriched. I put less stress on the hurried work product, and more emphasis on the process. I try to instill everything that I do with a sense of passion and enthusiasm, even when it's difficult. 

I am at another stressful and anxiety-filled crossroads in my life. The first time I graduated from Notre Dame, I didn't know what I wanted to do, and ended up in the Food Service Industry. Though I hated the grind of restaurant management on a 6-day-a-week, 65+ hour-a-week schedule, I loved helping make gnocchi and crab cakes in the prep-kitchen, watching and talking with the artisanal bread baker, catering to the under-appreciated customer, learning about the food and wine from experts, and adding to the drama that unfolded every evening at my restaurant. This next graduation in May brings about a new set of challenges as I try to discern a career and find a job. I enter a virtually jobless market, where my concentration in marketing and communications, seems less of a door-opener by the day. It is hard to demonstrate to a potential employer that you are the next best thing for the company, when the piece of paper that your life is condensed to, doesn't speak truths about your inner character. I am at a loss for advice to those job seekers who want to know how to put one's best foot forward in the job market. I wish I had that advice myself. All that I can keep doing is to continue to market myself, and have faith that things will fall into place - - that if I continue to listen to cues, I will find a true calling. 

Until I land my dream job (whatever that may be), I will try to keep doing everything throughout my day with love. If I fail in this regard, I know the product will not be as good, and I will need to find a way to redirect my motivations. Today, add passion into what you do. Dedicate yourself to lovingly and thoughtfully giving your time and talent to others. Take the hatred and the frustration out of your activities, work and relationships. Though your gift may only be in hobby form today, perhaps with practice, refinement and commitment it will turn into a rewarding career. 

Lo

Sweet Spontaneity

Today is one of those days that I have everything planned out: Investments midterm, Marketing research class, mass at the crypt, lunch and reading for UN, UN Global Compact class, meeting for Living Stations of the Cross, Dinner, meet others to go to Living Stations of the Cross, Procession till 9:30, go home, go to bed. It is that rigid. There is no room for error in time management today. There doesn't even seem to be a moment to catch a breath. I wonder how I will enjoy one aspect of today, without worry that I will miss the next.  

At dinner on Sunday it was lamented that every weekend from now till the end of school is planned - - that we lacked the ability to be impulsive on a given free weekend. At the spur of the moment that night we had gone to an early dinner, then to get ice cream at Cold Stone, and then went the movies, creating the most fantastic spontaneous Sunday evening. (We saw Adventureland, which I highly recommend. A very sweet coming of age story and set in my home town of Pittsburgh!) When I exited the theater I realized that I had just had a complete date night without putting hours into an agenda or the beautification process. 

I remember when I didn't have a set plan after I graduated from undergrad. Or, everyday I sought to make a comprehensive strategy to carry me through to success. However, by the end of every night that plan generally got shut down or became uninteresting to me. I failed to live in the moment at that point of my life. 

My message today is simple. Though your life may seem structured and set, open yourself to the possibility of change. If your life is unplanned and chaotic, embrace the ability to soak up as many different opportunities as possible. In my experience, which is quite limited, plans tend to change unexpectedly, things fall into place the way they should, and routine continues. Make the most of your spare time, because it goes quickly. I have learned that spontaneity in life tends to create the sweetest moments. 

Lo

Running Against the Wind

The wind was steady and relentless all weekend long. When running on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, no matter which way I turned the wind was blowing directly against me. Down Twyckenham, Edison, Notre Dame Avenue, and all through campus I couldn't catch a break. The wind was determined to beat me down. To self-motivate, I continued to think back on the particular days of lacrosse practice, when the wind was horrible. When simultaneously it seemed physically impossible to go up field due to the South Bend weather, our coach yelled at us for not whole-heartedly finishing a play, my captain referred to me in jeering names like "Prudence," and my hunger from an unsatisfying lunch of salad kicked in, I found an inner drive to keep going. I thought, if I could continue and play hard then, I better be able to do it now. As I recall too, it was the hardest fights on the field that merited Coach Tracy's foot stopping excitement and her resounding, "yes ... Yes ... YES!" For me, this praise always made it worth it. 

On Sunday morning, before the rain came, I turned down Twyckenham, the home stretch, and the wind finally changed course, making my run a little easier. I felt the power of the mighty wind at my back, and my strides got faster and faster. When I reached the front door of my condo, I felt great. I had completed the challenge and at the end, when the hard fight was won, I ran with conviction, adrenaline, and a natural push. 

I feel the pressure of powerful, combative winds in the discernment and decision making a lot. It renders the right choice hard to make and defend at times. This Sunday was Palm Sunday and the start of Holy Week in the Catholic faith. Yesterday and throughout this week Catholics are asked to make those harder commitments to their faith - - the commitments that go against popular opinion. In Catholic tradition, when one fails to live as Christ taught, one goes with the crowd who crucified him during his Passion. This is not a lesson solely applicable to Christians. It is a universal truth that when we act unethically and immorally, we end up hurting pockets of humanity. When we act out of our own self-interest, we don't see the repercussions our decisions have on others. One of the professors that I had last quarter, focused a couple of his lectures on discernment. He expressed the challenge of it - - the time, concentration, silence, and self-resignation that it required. Once the right choice was clear, though it might be hard to depart from the majority, one has to commit to it. The commitment may be an uphill battle, but in the end one will have the backing of a more powerful force that will carry you through and ease your burden.

Today and throughout the week, I hope to make good decisions and live as unselfishly, compassionately, and humbly as possible. When I fail to respect and love others, I will reorient and try again. In your life, I hope the wind is at your back. However, if it is not, and you find the path burdensome and tiresome, keep going. Because on that final stretch home you will reap the rewards. If the path is filled with snow as it is today, bundle up and have faith that spring is right around the corner. 

Carpe Diem, 

Lo 

Calling an Audible

One of the things that I love about getting up early is the silence. I love the sound of no appliances running, no cars driving by, no reveling collegiates, no television programming, and no in-box dings. I love that they only thing to hear is the twitter of birds outside as they wake up too. On Saturdays I am sometimes the first customer to walk into Super Target at 8:00 AM. What is usually a bustling center of 21st century box commerce, is just waking up as well. The consumers burdened with price anxiety, perceived product shortages, aisle rage, and premature insatiable hunger, which leads to a mad foraging of samples, aren't present to taint my grocery shopping experience. As I walk into the fluorescent, but design friendly warehouse of all imaginable goods, I listen to the quiet elevator music and love that I am the only customer there to enhance the branded soundscape. 

This quarter (the final one) of my MBA education, I have a class called Qualitative Market Research. The professor teaches the tenets of marketing ethnography - - of deep dive observation and analysis about the intimate relationships between consumer and product. Part of the process of learning more and removing preconceptions and biases, is conducting interviews with consumers in the environments in which they use the product. This interview process is difficult, because the goal is to say as little as possible, and silently probe the consumer to take the floor and elaborate on all their consumer oddities. As interviewer, our job is merely to listen, which is hard for me because my tendency is to want to fill dead, awkward air time. 

Becoming a passive member of a conversation, a listener, rather than a talker, is difficult for someone who has always thrived on conversation creation. I have friends that I try to learn from who are amazing listeners. They take a deep interest in my mindless chatter for hours, politely laugh (and I'm not that funny) at my jokes, and nod and probe me to continue with my stream of consciousness. I also have friends that are just as guilty as I am of not listening. Our phone conversations tend to follow the pattern of I say a lot, then we she gets to talk I think of how I will respond, generally interrupt, and then talk some more. I get off the phone proud of the consoling advice that I just delivered, but don't remember what issue it related to. 

Like observing and reading, listening carefully is a large part of learning. In my marketing research class, a close ear will afford you the opportunity to gain access to amazing details of consumer habits and new ways of using or thinking about products. This in turn enables a market researcher to discover latent needs that can be manifested in the evolution of the studied product. Listening is essential in our innate quest to learn more about ourselves and define our character. How can we be sure of our mantras and position statements if we don't know what our collaborators or competitors tell us? How can we be sure of our opinions when we have not listened to all sides of the story? It is difficult to listen to all the information thrown our way everyday, because every person and thing has a unique experience set and outlook. It is time consuming and exhausting to attempt to listen to others' stories. However, if we fail to do this, we ultimately are led down a dangerous road of judgment, bias and discrimination. My advice is to listen more, and to talk less. 

Last weekend I read The Perfect Thing a study of the development, roll-out, consumption, and excitement of the iPod. Stephen Levy dismisses the claim that the white ear buds delivering personalized soundtracks to our busy lives cause more anti-social behavior. He believes that we were always anti-social to a certain extent. He instead praises the iPod's ability to color our life experiences. We now have a means to transport music with us to enhance our moods and surroundings, to rock-out or zone-out 24/7. Though I appreciate this enabling device, it doesn't just inhibit our social interaction, it inhibits our ability to listen to the beautiful silence that sometimes inhabits the world. Still pauses are rich in learning opportunities. I practiced meditation a couple times this year, which is an act that entices the mind to listen to the silence. Again, it is difficult, but with practice I noticed that the myriad of thoughts rapidly passing through my mind, slowed down. I was able to put them on hold and store them appropriately. Each time I left the meditation room, I felt that I had a little more room in my mind to learn and explore. 

Silence is both a time of repose and reflection. It is restorative, but it is also challenging. My advice today is change up your pattern of preaching, draining out the noise with your customized playlist, and running from one loud event to the next. Instead, devote a little bit of time to stillness - - a time when you can hear others, yourself, and perhaps something even greater better. For it is sometimes the smallest, quietest voice that has the most interesting thing to say. 

Lo

The Inner Geriatric

I was recently in Marco Island, Florida for Spring Break. My boyfriend and I stayed with his grandmother for the week at her lovely 2 bedroom condo. She has been dubbed by his family, "Super Grandma," which in part is due to her ceaseless energy, keen sense of style, ease with which she navigates the internet, 50 + years of yoga practice, and resilient independent spirit. 

I found myself quite at home in "the land of all things old." (A term my friend Kate coined for Florida.) Waking up early with Super Grandma; talking over coffee and fibrous cereal as my boyfriend tried to sleep through our chatter; watching the beauty of the sun as it woke up and went to sleep; going on power walks instead of runs to keep pace with the elder morning exercisers; periodically napping on the beach while reading sappy novels for hours just like my older neighbors; and transporting my dinner from kitchen to lanai on a tray, all made for the most relaxing and enjoyable Spring Break. I left after 5 days craving more. 

I remember some of my teammates (well, perhaps all of my teammates) referring to me as the grandma of the team. (My friend Kassen was the mom as she baked delicacies and cleaned the locker room for the team on a weekly basis, but I was the grandma!) I had hip problems; I yelled at my housemates around 10 PM once a week because it was bed time and I didn't appreciate their boisterous behavior; I started eating fiber every morning and going to mass everyday; I tried my best to speak poetically in language from the days of yore (and most of the time got called out for using vocabulary inappropriately); and when I did repeal my prohibition on alcohol after junior year and started to go out with my teammates again, I stuck to dancing the twist at the bars instead of the more modern rap dancing my teammates practiced. 

To a large extent, like the 75+ demographic,  I like structure and pattern to my days. I like to have my schedule organized, and I like to have things planned so as my Mom says, "I have something to look forward to." (There was a period after college when I felt I had nothing to anticipate, and it was depressing.) However, during my vacation over Spring Break, while talking with Super Grandma over some tacos that I prepared for dinner, I mentioned my love of routine, especially as it related to my running habits. As a life long aficionado of Yoga, Super Grandma said that I shouldn't be that way -- That in my running I need to find the Ying and the Yang. I run 4.5 miles every day around the Notre Dame campus, wearing UnderArmour performance apparel to signify that I am true runner, not a jogger. (However, when I get passed on my route by a younger, more sprightly cross country team member, I recognize that I am just a wannabe.) I run the same way on that route every day. I exit my condo and run to the right. I don't know why, but this makes me feel more comfortable. Super Grandma said, you can't do that. You need to start by running to the left first, and then you need to start running other routes. 

Though this example of running focused on my exercise habits, it made me start to think about the other areas of my life where I have adapted a pattern of ritual and routine. When I tend to color my experiences in predictability, task management, pragmatism, and securitization I fail to see the full spectrum of possibilities. My boyfriend has preached about the benefits of playing things by ear and seeing where the day takes him. On unscheduled weekends I try this with him and have seen the rewards from the fresh and exciting surprises behind every corner. This practice is initially hard for me, but as I start to open myself to it, I recognize the benefits from opening doors to new encounters and viewpoints -- from leaning to the left as well as to the right. 

Super Grandma has traveled the world and had 83 years of rich experiences. She deserves to have a sense of repose to her day. As for me, I don't think I will surrender some of my geriatric habits, but at 27 years old I need to be aware of and open to all the opportunities presented each day. I need to wake up every morning and challenge myself so I get out of the comfort zone. I want my grandchildren to deem me "super" one day.  

Carpe Diem, 

Lo