Super Powers

NB: I wrote this back in January, but didn’t post it because I felt like it needed work. But after writing down my resolution to post on Girl Fight at least once a month in 2016, I decided to retro-actively publish this one. So, just so you know, it counts for January! (And I’m not doing any more work on it, so there)!

I have a super power.

I can become an infinitely warm body radiating heat amidst blustery cold. How did I discover this power? When I partake in outdoor winter activities, my fingers and toes become very very cold. When I was younger, this would make me very grumpy, and sometimes also scared that I would get frostbite, or more fantastically, that I would never be warm again. In October 2013, I went on my first outdoor climbing trip. In the cold, rainy forests of Ith, Germany, my fingers were so cold, I couldn’t feel the rock beneath me, never mind hold onto it. My companions urged me to endure the cold, and continue moving my fingers and toes until the blood started flowing. After a few hours of numb misery, I felt warmth flood my appendages and every single one of my digits. After that, I climbed cold limestone for hours. I felt unstoppable.

Most recently I used this power on a snowshoe expedition with my family. Numb toes jutted out from numb feet. I continued lifting my thighs up and along the uneven snowy path with nothing more than blind faith to assure me that my feet would still support each step. And then there was pain – a throbbing sensation, both burning and freezing. And then warm toes that I happily wiggled around inside my boots. The heat was in my fingers too. So much so that I could take my gloves off to take a photo of a bull moose in the trees without feeling the icy wind on my fingertips. I felt so powerful on this little snowshoe expedition. More than just the warmth radiating through me, I felt strong. I charged up snowy slopes and stomped down snow piles at the road edges where we needed to cross with the baby stroller.

Oh yes, a baby stroller. We brought my baby niece along, but instead of strapping her into a baby-wearing type contraption, we strapped skis onto her stroller and pushed her along. This was perhaps not the most energy-efficient option, but it was so much fun! I was having a ball whenever it was my turn. We charged out in front and raced ahead of the pack for the pure joy of running. (Yes, on snowshoes!) My family was astonished I could push this heavy stroller so fast. I found myself talking to my niece as we trekked past frosty trees. “Let’s go Anne!” and “Wheee let’s run down the hill!” All the while I thought of future adventures where Anne would be big enough for her own snowshoes or hiking boots. I thought about letting her set the pace – either running ahead if it feels good to run, or lagging behind when her legs are too small to keep up and she needs a flower-spotting or story-telling buddy. I will tell her stories about superpowers. I will let her know that she too can use the superpower of becoming a bright, hot ball of energy in the blustery cold. Or running fast. Or making magic by telling stories.

Towards the end of the trail, Anne started to fuss in her stroller. By fuss, I mean scream and cry. I don’t know if she was getting cold, hungry or bored, but we had another twenty minutes of ground to cover before getting back to the visitor’s centre where we started. Twenty minutes with a crying baby and anxious parents might as well be forever. My sister thought to try and nurse Anne on the trail, but my mum said “Let Andrea push her in the stroller really fast, and run together back to the visitor’s centre. Andrea, we need you to be the power pusher!”

This might have been my proudest moment of 2015.

This is exactly what we did. Running ahead with my sister on my tail and my niece crying loudly, I kept talking to Anne but now I said “Give ’em hell Anne!” and “Let it out!” and “I hear you baby!” I didn’t just feel like I had a superpower anymore, I felt like a superhero.

Crazy Achievable

I finally made New Year’s Resolutions. The items on this list have been tumbling around in my mind for many months. Over breakfast this morning, they finally spilled out onto a page in my notebook, titled “2016 Crazy Achievable Dreams.” It feels SO GOOD to get these thoughts out. Here’s the list:

1. Share my writing in a public forum. Possible platforms to pursue include: Bitch Media, Guts, Dirtbag Diaries, and She Does the City.
2. Continue writing on Girl Fight. Publish at least one post per month.
3. Take steps towards writing a novel to the point that a draft is finished by the end of the year, or it’s at a point where it makes more sense to finish it than to quit
4. Start a podcast. Release at least one episode by the end of the year.
5. Perform onstage.
6. Make something with my hands that I’m excited about. Things I’d be excited to make are: collage, photography, wooden furniture, clothing, woven wall hanging, macramé wall hanging or plant holder, something knitted or crocheted, wood carving, or pottery.
7. Lead climb with confidence.
8. Go on at least a dozen hikes.
9. Urban cycle in Canada.
10. Visit at least five art galleries or museums I’ve never been to before in Canadian cities.
11. Start earning a paycheque.
12. Manage a project or plan and coordinate an event.
13. Unpack all my moving boxes and suitcases.
14. Add at least three new recipes to my collection.
15. Start learning Spanish.
16. Be a confident babysitter of my niece
17. Take time to have really good conversations with my dad. Let’s say at least five.

Let’s unpack these points. (Fair warning: this is a mega-post).

After I wrote this list, I reflected on what it says about me and where I’m at in my life right now. First of all, the desire to nurture my creative side clearly dominates the majority of goals on this list. I.e. Writing, podcasting, making something with my hands, performing, exploring art galleries. Creative pursuits have always lit me up – originally in the form of interior decorating projects – but I never actively put more fuel on the fire. I studied engineering, worked in construction project management, and tried to be a consultant. I wanted to prove that I was intelligent and capable, and in the circles I ran in, those qualities were conflated with proving my skill at math and sciences, and demonstrating my earning potential. Exposing myself to new influences (which started long before grad school, but was definitely accelerated by moving overseas), has made me brave enough to try on another identity, other than ‘civil engineer.’ Specifically in regards to writing, podcasting and performing, I want to mention that I am moved to pursue these activities because when I see other people do them, I not only think “I could do that,” I think “I wish I was doing that.” I think probably we don’t act on it enough when we think to ourselves “I wish I was doing that.”

Another theme is taking back to Canada the things I loved about living in the Netherlands. I was nervous about cycling before I moved here. Even though I knew how to ride a bike, I wasn’t confident that I could competently cycle in traffic, or maintain my bike. Turns out I didn’t really have to worry about either of those things. The bike infrastructure is so good in this country that it is on very rare occasion that I find myself on the road and not a dedicated, separate bike lane. And as for maintenance, I discovered that a lot of people living here are just like me, and don’t know how to maintain a bicycle. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of people do it all themselves, but there’s still plenty of folks like me (even native Dutch!) who are happy to pay a friendly bike mechanic to repair flat tires, replace brake cables, etc. About the only thing I do for my ride is put air in the tires. That being said, I did completely fall in love with commuting by bike. So when I go home, I don’t want to give that up. But Canadian cities definitely do not compare to the Netherlands in terms of bike infrastructure (though it’s improving), so it’s finally time to face my fears about biking in traffic. While I’m at it, I might even try to learn some basic bike maintenance. No promises there though, let’s just call that gravy.

Another thing I love about my life in the Netherlands is that art galleries and museums are part of my weekly activity. It’s easy to expose yourself to the creative work of other people because there is a seemingly endless supply of museums and galleries. Obviously many are in Amsterdam, but because it’s a small country, it’s also completely possible to make day trips to other towns to check out all the exhibits they have on offer. I highly recommend museum-hopping as a great way to explore the Netherlands. Even better, the majority of museums are accessible through the Museumkaart. For the extremely reasonable price of 50 euros, you get a card that gives you one year of unlimited access to hundreds of Dutch museums. It is heaven. Outside of the Netherlands, I have also visited fantastic artwork and exhibits in London, Paris, Copenhagen, Lisbon, Antwerp, Norway, Czech Republic, Poland, Germany and Morocco. It’s definitely not as easy to travel between Canadian cities in order to explore different gallery and museum spaces, but I have been so inspired by exposing myself to the ways in which creative and brilliant people express themselves that it’s definitely worth expending the effort to keep it going.

Canada itself is a major theme on this list. I know I could stay overseas if I really wanted to. After studying here, I’m eligible for a Dutch work visa, and there’s nothing stopping me from looking for work here, the UK, or other European countries. But I feel such an incredible pull back to western Canada. I met lovely people and made very dear friends while overseas, but I just really want to be in the same time zone as the deepest loves of life. My mum, my sister, my niece, my girlfriends. I spent a few years romanticizing Europe before I moved here, and I’m glad I made the move overseas for grad school, but now it feels like I’ve exhausted that curiousity, and in it’s place is a curiousity about my own country. I want to further explore Canada. Actually, in addition to my own country, I really want to explore America at large. Learning Spanish partly plays into that – exploring Mexico, and Central and South America will be a lot easier with some level of fluency in Spanish (especially if I want to visit museums)! Also, living in Europe where everyone speaks two, three, five, seven languages has made me feel really silly for being monolingual. As a logophile, it seems like a no-brainer to discover twice as many words to love.

Family is also a theme on the list. Let’s start with my dad. I spent a lot of years thinking that he should change to be more like this idealistic father figure in my head. I was so hard on him, and I tried like crazy to bring him around to my way of thinking about family and communication. My dad and I have said a lot of things to each other over the years that hurt both of us deeply, but we’re in a good place now. We’re both stubborn as hell, so it took awhile to get there, but I see him reaching out and I see him making the effort to know me, even when it requires him to push past his comfort zone. I wish I had figured out a lot sooner that it’s better to love people for who they are, instead of trying to change them. It’s time for me to give him a break and just let him be my dad. We’re still working on establishing a regular habit of staying in touch, plus he travels between Australia and Canada for work, so the time zone math sometimes makes it hard to get him on the phone. But there is no good reason why we can’t schedule time at least every other month for the remainder of the year for a really good catch-up.

Next to my relationship with my dad, building a relationship with my niece and strengthening the relationship with my sister and brother-in-law are important family-related goals. I articulated this as becoming a confident babysitter because it would be such a great feeling to be able to free up some of my sister and brother-in-law’s time so they can do errands, enjoy time with each other, or maybe spend time nurturing their own passion projects. But I don’t want to just help free up their time, I would love for them to be really comfortable with me looking after Anne. I.e. Free up their minds for a few hours as well. Come to think of it, it’s pretty important that Anne and I have confidence in me too, so she doesn’t cry the whole time her parents are away and I don’t make worried faces at her for several hours straight. Gaining the trust of a tiny human being – that seems like a worthwhile goal.

Also on this list – getting physical! Lead climbing and hiking. Thank god I discovered climbing. It changed my life. I just never thought of myself as a sporty person, and I was deeply scared of any situation where I could potentially embarrass myself with my lack of physical prowess. But now I have found so much strength in myself from developing this skill. I could wax poetic about this for a very long time, but suffice to say, I just want to keep going on this road. And I really want to climb outside the gym. I have climbed on the real thing on three different occasions, but always with really knowledgeable and experienced climbers who supplied all the expertise and gear to make these trips happen. I just showed up and tied in after they set up a top-rope. Instead, I would like to be the knowledgeable and experienced person supplying gear and expertise. I am inspired in this pursuit in part by my mother. In the last few years, she has become an avid hiker. Without fail, she hikes in the Rockies at least once per week. In the winter, she straps on snowshoes. At this point, she has internalized an impressive amount of knowledge about the myriad trails on offer in national and provincial parks around Calgary. Now, she’s starting to take courses about avalanche safety. This year, we will celebrate her sixtieth birthday with a hiking trip in Iceland. Her progression from novice to expert hiker inspires me to (1) become an expert in my own sport, and (2) do a lot of hiking so I can keep up with her in the Rockies and in Iceland (and make it to even the remotest crags with energy to spare for climbing)!

I should also mention the point about earning a pay cheque. I put this on the list because that’s how life works, and after almost three years of glorious unemployed student life, it’s time to feed my bank account again. That being said, I’m trying really hard not to tie measures of self-worth and accomplishment to wage earning. Partly because we are so much more than our jobs, and partly because it’s just too uncertain at this point what I will end up doing, and what work I will find. So I’m confident that I can find a job, and that the job I find will help propel me towards the next opportunity and the next, but I think just earning a pay cheque will be a good thing to be proud of, without any other qualifiers or caveats. I did add a goal about managing a project or coordinating an event. This is the kind of task I think I would like my next job to involve because it seems to be where my natural strengths lie, and I love doing it. But this is its own separate goal, because I can further develop these skills even if no one pays me for it. For example, through volunteer work or another kind of passion project. So, that’s all there is to say about that.

Finally, the last theme from this list that I want to reflect on is standing still. The last decade of my life involves around twenty different dwellings which I have called home. A lot of suitcases, moving boxes, flights, road trips, roommates and landlords have been involved in that seemingly endless migration. The next few months will involve more of the same, but by the end of 2016 (who am I kidding, I hope it’s a lot sooner than that!), I would like to find myself with the key to a place where all the things in my moving boxes and suitcases are unpacked and put away in spots that feel a little bit permanent. Many of things packed away in boxes right now are my kitchen things. I have been dreaming about my good set of knives, spatula, measuring cups, tea pot and coffee mugs for the entire time I’ve been overseas. Student kitchens and the student lifestyle do not inspire me to prepare delicious food. I miss this so much. Having the time and energy to explore new recipes and find ones I like enough to write down on recipe cards so I can easily make them again and again will be a special kind of bliss.

Phew, it felt incredibly satisfying to get all of that out of my head. That turned out to be less of a list of New Year’s resolutions and more of a reflection report complete with goal-setting, similar to the report I was just forced to write about my internship in fulfillment of my Masters degree. (Joke’s on them though, because I LOVE self-reflection). Re-visiting these goals and checking my progress over the year will also be a nice jumping off point for future blog posts (at least one per month). Stay tuned!

Lost Cool

When I was a little girl, I was very particular about my room. I loved nothing better than to re-organize my bedroom furniture, or re-arrange all the toys, books and tchotchkes lining my bookshelves and desktop. And before I went to bed, I liked everything to be put away in its proper place. If, during the various activities of the day, I had accumulated items in my room that did not belong there, I piled them in the hallway just outside my bedroom door so that they could eventually be restored to their proper home, or (as was often the case) re-appropriated to my bedroom again for use the next day. Nonetheless, overnight hallway storage of ‘foreign’ objects was key to ensuring a restful sleep.

(In hindsight, yes I had a touch of OCD as a child).

One evening, I must have stayed up far past my bedtime, and upon realizing this, my mother beseeched me to accelerate my bedtime routine and get my butt under the covers. I could sense her rising frustration, but I would not be moved. I pleaded with her to help me organize my things, and staunchly refused to go to bed until everything was in its proper place. She agreed, and I felt a split-second of relief before registering the fact that she was picking up all the things from the floor and unceremoniously throwing them out into the hallway, whether they ‘belonged’ there, the bookshelf, or otherwise. I screamed in anguish and begged her to stop, but I had pushed her past the breaking point. She lost her cool. “Isn’t this how you clean your room? Not in your room, not your problem, right?” she hurtled back, scathingly.

As one of the truly rare occasions when my mother reached the end of an impressive reserve of patience, this event punctuates my memories like an exclamation point. In my adult life, I too have reached breaking points where I just start chucking things in the metaphorical hallway. This sensation overcomes me most often when I’m at work, trying to get somewhere with a project that I don’t feel confident about, and more to the point, don’t feel invested enough in to dedicate the time and energy necessary to increase my confidence. Railing against the project manager in my head, I think, “Fine. Fine! You want me to make recommendations about this subject matter that neither of us have real knowledge of? You want me to advise people about how to run their business on the basis of a few hours of Googling? Here it goes then!” And then finally, after having agonized for hours, I rapidly type a bunch of authoritative sounding recommendations as if I know what I’m talking about. And it feels exactly like picking up an armload of somebody else’s bric a brac and tossing it out into the hallway.

This is how I have come to see consulting. Which basically means, if I were to stay in this particular industry, I would have to re-enact the moment of losing my cool again and again, continuously, all day long, every day, in order to get anything done.

For the people who love the profession, I imagine they must associate consulting with a different, more pleasant childhood memory. For example, when they are telling a made-up story and their mummy pats them on the head and says, “You’re a very clever girl!” while handing them a cookie.

Crosswind

There has been a windstorm in Amsterdam today. Strong gusts blow across my path as I bike to the cinema, nearly knocking me off my two wheels and into the IJ. When I lock up my bike, I have to pause and look away for a minute or two to avoid assault by a suddenly agitated sandpile.

On the way home again, the wind thrills me and makes me nervous in turns. Buiksloterweg ends in a foot bridge, designed to be impassable by bike, and on the one hand, frenzied gusts of wind whipping at all sides make me feel impossibly romantic as I lift my bike across the zig-zagging walkways. I imagine the close-up on my face – head tucked to find shelter in an upturned coat collar, but eyes bright and still focused on some mysterious destination, as yet unknown to the audience. Is our hero bound for some sanctuary where she will be greeted by a dear friend who has news to share about a mutual acquaintance who’s recently arrived from Paris? Or maybe she’s on her way to an illicit rendez-vous with a handsome lover. Or she might pull up her bike outside an unmarked door where only a code word will gain entry to the secret society within.

On the other hand, the wind is foreboding. On this side of the foot bridge, the wind seems to foreshadow a dire turn of events. The hero is about to learn something terrible has happened. The camera shows the bike abruptly coming to a stop, but stays focused on the back wheel of the bike, slowing panning up to show the audience what she sees. The dear friend is on our hero’s doorstep, with a pitying face and crumpled letter in her hand. The handsome lover has sought shelter from the wind in the arms of a seductress, whose face is hidden by a sheath of long, white hair. The unmarked door has been kicked in and the secret society’s hideaway has been ransacked.

As it turns out, the hero has arrived home in good order, and presently is sitting cross-legged on the bed and listening to Billie Holiday. The wind shakes the window-panes, but otherwise, the events of my evening have taken neither a thrilling nor dire turn.