Monthly Archives: August 2012

28 for 29, #15: Niec (or Niecy)

Many people believe that when you’re about 28 years old, your Saturn returns, bringing all sorts of changes and chaos. I’ve been using this idea as a conversation starter, asking folks what their lives were like at my age – even if they’re not so far from my age. 

Photo courtesy of Niec McDaniel

Through the series I reconnected with one of my friends from high school, Niec McDaniel – Niecy to me. Together with the rest of our posse in our visual arts magnet program, Niecy and I spent many, many hours developing test strips in the darkroom, passing notes during history of photography lectures, and wandering the halls of the art annex at dear old Suitland

Niecy, I learned this week, went on to earn a Bachelor’s of Science and then a Master’s in Biomedical Engineering. She was on her way to completing a Ph.D. when she experienced a bad car accident, but her resulting spinal injury hasn’t slowed her down much; these days she tutors college students in math and science and also advocates for reproductive justice and healthcare for the uninsured or under-insured. Earlier this year she launched her blog, Easy Peazy, ”to find and appreciate the beautiful simplicities we tend to lose sight of amongst the chaos of our day.”  She wrote a sweet post the other day reminiscing about high school if you’re curious what that time in my life looked like (though I remember more absurdity, exhaustion, drama, and “Dawson’s Creek” than she does – fodder for a whole other series, maybe).

I hope you enjoy her interview.

Julia: Where were you when you turned 28?

Niecy: At 28 I was in an emotional and physically vulnerable spot. I had a series of calamities throughout that time that began with a really bad car accident eight days after I got married.

I spent my 28th birthday healing from the last of three surgical procedures, this one having been done to my left knee. I was in physical therapy that should have been called physical torture. Regionally I was in the DC area and my husband and I were staying with my in-laws, because our apartment had flooded. So at 28 I was basically standing in my in-laws’ guest room with a bum leg in a brace, a new husband, and a German Shepherd, with all of our lovely new things waterlogged in storage, telling myself, “It will get better because there is no possible way it could get worse.” In fact, I welcomed 30 at this moment because 28-29 would be over.

J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday? 

N: Oddly enough, for a time I put so much emphasis on, I remember very little about that specific day. The focus was shifted off of the actual date because I had to focus on my body and the healing process. I did have a spiritual awaking that occurred and that is what I sum up that time with. I really focused on Eastern medicine and threw myself in the practice/philosophy of Yoga and Reiki, and simple things like sleeping a normal amount of time and eating more healthy for my body.

Now that I think of it, I’d be an incredibly stressed and unhappy person if that time hadn’t led me to the lifestyle I lead now. I was an angry person up until that point – my family, situation, the lack of truly decent people, it all weighed heavily on me. At 28 the proverbial light switch was turned on and there was a huge moment of illumination for which I am incredibly grateful. I was later told by a physician that I’d of probably run myself into an early grave with the amount of chronic stress I was putting my body through.

J: What was happening in the world that year? Do you remember newsworthy events, books you read, movies or shows or art you experienced?

N: I remember a book I read called Native Healer and having a huge “aha” moment. This was the year I took my tired soul back, and let go of a lot of baggage. (I think I may be sounding a bit like a crazy person. I’m an Aquarius, I’m allowed to be a little crazy, right?)

I read a lot of Charles Dickens that year, and have a journal entry that states, ”Last night was the worst but at least I’m not an orphaned child in a debtors prison in London during the industrial revolution…”

I do remember two news stories that come to mind, the mammography guidelines being changed to age 50 as opposed to 40; that really made me mad. And I also remember hearing about a potential “AIDs vaccine.” I had an old professor working on this project, actually. While the data didn’t show a lot of promise, it did reiterate the importance of prevention (by ways of safe sex practices) being the main safeguard against HIV.

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them? 

N: In some ways I feel incredibly close to that time in my life because it led to my subsequent spiritual awakening, but at the same time it does feel distant. The physical pain of that point in my life is kind of hazy, I remember it being bad but I think self-preservation kicked in and I realized that I had to keep taking one more step, just a simple one foot in front of the other to make the surroundings change. Along the way I realized there was a lot of beauty in the world, in the simplicity of everyday things I hadn’t seen before. I was now moving slow enough to notice it all. Those little pieces of beauty are the things I remember from that time.

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?

Niecy: Wow, actually, yes. My family had terrified me with the horrible things that would take place due to the return of Saturn. I can remember hearing at 25, “Get married soon, have a baby soon, you know Saturn will return,” and the all too familiar, “No better time than now!” I had feared 28′s approach most of my twenties based totally on the fact that the women in my immediate family instilled this fear of it. It’s kind of ridiculous now when I think about it because it was such an awful time in my life it almost seemed like it was fulfillment of my destiny to have a horrible year(s), because I’d heard it so much.

The actual term “Saturn Returns” evokes a mini panic attack. For me it’s that feeling of re-evaluating your twenties with a fine tooth comb, counting the kids you don’t have, the graduate degrees you still are working on, and the lack of a 401K or decent retirement package. But on the other hand it makes me appreciate being stripped of all that. The return of Saturn made me evaluate my self-worth. Up until that point I used my education as a piece of armor that deflected questions: “Well, I’m okay because I’m working on this project and I’m not idle…” But an accident forced me to sit idle and to think about the emotional areas I had neglected up until that point. It was my second birth, a moment of supreme clarity. I think when you’re made to face a fear you become incredibly strengthened by getting through it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I was scared, scared as hell, but then it came and went and I realized I was capable of conquering quite literally anything.

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time? 

N: Yes. Don’t freak out, this is more of a jumping off point than a cataclysmic battle over the relevance of your early to mid 20s, and it can always be worse! As a person that had an incredibly shitty late 20s experience I promise it can always be so much worse.

Focus on what you want to do after this point and not what has led up to it, don’t pine over past decisions with a fine tooth comb. Be optimistic, 30 looks incredibly positive, many woes of your 20s will fall to the wayside. Stop along the way and take in the beauty. It’s easy to miss. Stop and smell the flowers and smile when you can, hopefully often, tell the people you love that you do, and allow them to tell you the same and really absorb it.

And don’t read Charles Dickens in a moment of depression. It’ll only make you feel more depressed.

Thank you, Niecy! I hope the folks who read this take a look at your blog, send you good vibes for continued healing and strength, and maybe even feel inspired to reach out to one of their old high school classmates. 

Photo courtesy of Niec McDaniel. 

Previous posts in the series: Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7Celeste, #8Deanna, #9Kyra, #10Aditi, #11Russ, #12Amy, #13; Ellen, #14.

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Birthday roundup: The “28 before 29″ halfway point

Friends!

Yesterday was my birthday. I welcomed 29 with happy jet lag, a ride on a Ferris wheel with Anuj, and a visit from these two:

R + L 2

I did not, as originally planned, publish the final post in the Saturn Returns series. The lofty goal had been to post 28 interviews before August 29th. Status: I’ve published 14 so far, have four or five more almost ready to share, and have a long list of people I still want to approach.

(I’ve also got almost 5,000 photos to edit after shooting a wedding abroad; an embarrassing number of unanswered emails in my inbox; several friends in town this week; oh, and a job search to dig into. Where should I work, Chicago?)

I’d like to take a moment to 1) thank you for reading, 2) thank everyone who has participated so far, 3) invite anyone who’d like to participate to please email or leave a comment – don’t be shy!, and 4) present a roundup of the series so far. Click on any name to read the corresponding interview.

Hannah, #1: Our biggest Saturn skeptic shares loads of smart advice.

Kara, #2: ”On the eve of my 29th birthday, I was trying to wrap my head around how two lines on a little stick meant that I was now responsible for another human being.”

Saya, #3: “I no longer view my life in segments. When I was a 9 to 5′er, I had a professional life, social life, romantic life, spiritual life. Now I just have a life.”

Cathy, #4: Wherein my mom breaks the Q&A mold.

Rachel, #5: A contender for funniest post. As was Rachel’s birthday wish to me on Facebook today: “Have a wicked ball and tell Saturn not to let the door hit its rings on the way out!”

Jen, #6: “I’m 32 now, and it seems like that year belonged to someone else.”

Cathy W., #7: “If you can till that soil, take it, tolerate its edges, you’re in for a lot of growth and if you mostly resist it, you may be in for a whole lot of bumps.”

Celeste, #8: ”Moving to Buenos Aires allowed me the distance that grief sometimes needs.”

Deanna, #9: “The two years after 9/11 in New York were a blur of ‘Nothing matters! We might all die tomorrow!’ and ‘Everything matters! We might die tomorrow!’”

Kyra, #10: “Slow down.”

Aditi, #11: In which I wax poetic about my former yoga instructor. I’m pretty sure the word count of my intro is higher than that of her interview.

Russ, #12: Paul Simon enters the picture.

Amy, #13: First reflection on 28 by a 29-year-old.

Ellen, #14: “Consider that change might best happen without a lot of thought.”

Thanks again, team. I’m learning a lot. I hope it’s all right with you that I’m extending my own deadline and committed to publishing at least 14 more of these.

Please do leave a comment if you have feedback on the series – I’d love to hear what you think.

Photo: Leah and Rachel on the NYC subway, 35mm, winter 2011. 

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28 before 29, #14: Ellen

favorite hammock

The idea for this series came about last year when I spent my birthday at The Stone House. I was on a retreat called Soul Sanctuary for Artists, and as the leader of the retreat, Ellen O’Grady created space for eight very different, very excited people to find calm and quiet, happy productivity, laughter-filled meals, and deep rest. 

Over dinner one night I remember asking everyone what their lives were like at my age, but I don’t remember Ellen saying much at the time. So I’m very happy that she decided to participate in this project now. In her own words:

When I tuned 28 I was living in the Jamaica Plain neighborhood of Boston, MA. I was going to art  school and painting video store windows for money.   This was 1997. Clinton began his second term as President.  Scientists cloned dolly the sheep. Zaire changed into Congo. Ellen Degeneres came out publicly as a a lesbian.  It’s perhaps this last newsworthy event that is the most vivid to me, as I also came out, to myself and to others in 1997, during my Saturn Return.   And much of the newsworthy events of that year seem to come in contact with my experience as a baby queer person. On the night Degeneres’ character Ellen Morgan came out on national television (shortly after her own coming out), a friend hosted a coming out party for me, during which I was asked out on my first queer date and given the bumper sticker God Loves Ellen, which is now stuck to the front cover of a sketchbook that rests on a shelf in the livingroom.  The night Princess Diana was killed I was at a women’s bar, dancing with my soon to become first grrlfriend.  The night Allen GInsberg died was the first time I heard transgender activist and author Leslie Feinberg speak.

If I had any advice for someone going through their Saturn Return it would be this:  Consider that change might best happen without a lot of thought.  If there is something that needs to happen, some tumult that will rock your world or perhaps create a subtle but profound shift, it would be best to meet it with spaciousness, inner quiet and inner receptivity.  When I was 28 I began going to art school and I began therapy, two places that gave me space to listen and allow doors to open. So do what you can to create space within yourself. Space for your aliveness to meet aliveness.  Meditate, go on retreat, take long walks in nature, dance and allow the movement to originate from someplace inside, from your heart perhaps, or your belly, or your sacrum.

Ellen, thank you for all that you did to create that space when I was turning 28 – the memories of Soul Sanctuary have helped me all year in all kinds of ways. And thank you for being open to this now.

Photos: Me on a hammock at The Stone House one year ago; Ellen provided the photo of herself in her early 30s. 

Previous posts in the series: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7Celeste, #8Deanna, #9Kyra, #10Aditi, #11Russ, #12; Amy, #13.

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28 before 29, #13: Amy Sample Ward

An ongoing series in which I ask people what their lives were like at my age – even if they’re not very far from my age.

Amy Sample Ward

I first met Amy Sample Ward in person about a year ago when we spoke on a panel about social media at the Foundation Center in New York. I’d been exposed to her work earlier, though; she has a popular blog about how nonprofit organizations can use technology to do better work, I’d seen her speak, and we’d been in touch online a bit. Amy is one of the many, many people I wish I’d spent more time with while living in NYC.  

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?

Amy: Yes – I didn’t know what it meant until I was 28, almost 29, and people would mention it when we were talking about life, work, etc. So I looked it up then, and, as with anything that you’ve recently looked up, I feel like I see/hear it all of the time. I’m 29, so am technically still in my Saturn returns phase!

J: Where were you when you turned 28?

A: I was in Portland, Oregon – my birthday is right after Christmas so there’s always a bit of built-in vacation time from work. We had moved back to the US from London just a few months prior, but had moved to NYC instead of back to Portland. As such, we were home for the holidays and still feeling a bit of the psychological jetlag that comes from uprooting life and resettling in a new place, a new/old country, etc. In retrospect, it is a bit fitting I still felt that way as it was the start of many new chapters in life, to be written concurrently: new city, soon to be new job, and all that Saturn returns stuff, too.

J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?

A: Well, it wasn’t very long ago so I certainly hope I remember several things! As I said, we had moved to NYC two and a half months prior to my birthday. My favorite season has always been autumn and I’m pretty good with the kind of change that you can see coming: changing jobs or moving or a new hair cut. I remember feeling like change was coming but maybe not the kind you can plan for in the same way. So my plan was to assume I couldn’t plan and would just be ready for whatever! I’m very glad that was my plan, because there was a new job (I’m now the Membership Director at NTEN) and six months later a contract to write a book (this time for Wiley/Jossey-Bass, co-authored with a friend and colleague, Allyson Kapin). I’m 29 now, so am still in the year or two surrounding that birthday, but am starting to feel like there’s less change. No, scratch that. I’m feeling like there is more consistency and stability in the plan of being ready blindly for change.

J: What was happening in the world that year? Do you remember newsworthy events, books you read, movies or shows or art you experiences?

A: Living in London from 2008 (right after Palin was announced as McCain’s running mate) until the autumn of 2010 meant that the way we consumed news about or from America was different, and so too was the way it was put in context against news about or from the rest of the world. Moving back to the US, and to a place like NYC, we felt like we were (and often still are) in a whirlwind of possible facts, allegations, hype, and a 24 hour clock of often context-less information. Living in Manhattan with millions of people listening and reading all of it, made it all the more dizzying. As such, I remember the first few months of our time in NYC especially as a time where anything that happened in the news seemed either underemphasized or overinflated: talks about the economic situation, the impact of Obamacare, etc. This was also the time that I started reading about and not understanding why more people were not concerned by the numbers of suicides of military service people, both actively abroad and on US soil. So many telling signs of people in need, at all elevations of our society, and so much helplessness as a result. Especially as someone, at that time and now, working in the nonprofit sector, that was really the feeling that seemed to permeate conversations: “I know, I know; but what can we really do about it?”

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?

A: Very close, naturally (back to the “I’m 29 now” part). I think the memories, at least the feelings and some of the moving pieces from this time, will stay pretty vivid in the long-term. This time of emotional and psychological transition marked by “Saturn returning” took place when we physically moved from one country to another, lived in a new city, had new jobs, and so on. Anytime we think back to “the time we moved to New York” or “when I started at NTEN” or whatever, it will be synonymous with this age, these things happening politically, and all these feelings of change. Being in the memories now, it feels mostly like an ellipsis. But that may also be the way life feels, always.

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?

A: One thing I have had to work on and get better at in my personal life is the idea that it’s okay to give advice. I am very comfortable professionally sharing an opinion or recommendation. But that is based, at least usually, on experience and investigation of a piece of technology or ways to use a specific application. Things that seem a bit more removed from me. Personally, I’ve always felt like I was a “who am I blow to against the wind” kind of person. And for much of my life, I defined that as letting things go the way they will. But, in this time of transition, I’ve really found that sharing advice to someone moving in the same direction doesn’t require blowing against the wind, but simply calling the wind out for what it is. And sometimes, that’s enough.

So, in that way, my advice is:
  • plan to be moved. Maybe physically, maybe emotionally, maybe in every way. Don’t try to identify the landing point ahead of time, but plan to learn to dance.
  • take no prisoners. Not in the true war sense, of course. I’ve found that the more you can be explicit, honest, and direct about, the better. When people create or try to avoid drama, whether personally or professionally, it most often makes him or her the prisoner instead of someone else.
  • concentrate on what you have. I feel like most of our lives up until this point as Americans are spent focusing on what we don’t yet have: we need to get the education, the grades, the job, the connections, the clothes, the friends, the whatever. Let this be a time when you can focus on all that you do have; and enjoy it, be good at it, and do more of it.
  • be here now. Really. Wear sunscreen because you want to go to the beach ALL day and not because you are scared of cancer (though it is real, and it is scary). Set a reoccurring alarm clock so that you can stay out way too late knowing underneath you are a responsible, good employee that will show up on time. Make a big dinner from scratch so that you have left overs to eat for lunch because it is cheaper and better for you, but let’s you learn to cook for a date. Do things so that you can enjoy every second, while still being very good to yourself and not just playing safe.
  • take responsibility for your change. This is the most uncomfortable for me to say, but maybe the most important. I’m still struggling with this one myself, too. But it is the most rewarding. Asking for help, guidance, and reassurance, and being purposeful about where to go next (both this afternoon and in a course for life) seems awkward, strange, and maybe outdated. But it also feels really good.

Thank you, Amy! For more of Amy’s take on things, you can follow her on Twitter at @amyrsward

Photo: Amy provided the one of herself in NYC soon after her move last year. 

The whole series so far: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7Celeste, #8Deanna, #9Kyra, #10Aditi, #11; Russ, #12.

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28 before 29, #12: Russ

Dear followers of the Saturn Returns interview series,

I bet you started to think I only know women, huh? After that 11-interview streak, I began to wonder myself. Lest you think this interview is only exciting ’cause Russ doesn’t have ovaries, you should know that he was also the first person who took me up on the offer to conduct the interview via video chat instead of in writing. This had the potential to be awkward because we hadn’t really talked in years and I had no idea what ground we might cover. I also showed up late. Then, to top it all off, he began the conversation with “I hate reflection. I’d rather just DO.”

Yikes. Here’s this person I respect a lot but don’t know well, who has patiently waited for me to call, and he’s not really feeling the premise of the whole series? But then he immediately launched into the following. I transcribed furiously. We barely edited what follows. 

I don’t know Russ very well, but I’m pretty sure that’s him in a nutshell.

I was 28 in 1996. I don’t know what happened that year, so I looked up the books and music and all that crap. It was the Jerry Maguire year. And I had finished grad school in ’95, so that was a huge period in terms of changes for me.

I had my first job where there wasn’t an absolute next step before me, aka college or graduate school. I was throwing myself completely into the start up of Idealist.org working with Ami [Dar, the founder and executive director]. We just didn’t and couldn’t know if it was going to go anywhere, but we seemed to feed off of each other’s capacity to work ridiculously long hours to create this thing that we still weren’t quite sure what it was to become. I had this great feeling each day that I had worked hard and that we shared a common goal. That was very powerful for me.

And I also was just starting to look at the whole dating thing. I remember, so, I am…I’m a very strange mix of things. And one of them is “a very judgmental prude.” I would not ever do the one night stand thing. I never drank. I mean, I would go to bars and be one of those people who was sober and would not sleep with someone. Which puts you in a very tiny subsection of the crowd. I had this notion early on about how people get screwed up by sleeping around. I had these odd, strange notions about romance, how you meet the right person. Around this age is when I started to think, “Huh, is this realistic?” Living in New York, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to have a relationship with someone that’s meaningful. So I think I was really beginning to process the challenge of that.

I was also in a weird living situation, in an apartment on Columbus in the 80s, with this old woman in a rent controlled four bedroom apartment. She would rent out rooms to people and make a bunch of money that way. When I moved in I wasn’t supposed to talk to anybody, I couldn’t let them know where I was going – I had to pretend I was visiting someone in the building. Like, the day I moved in I had to bring my stuff in through the garage and then ride the elevator up with her so people wouldn’t know. I remember she was trying to pressure me to do drugs. Constantly! She’d say, “You need to loosen up.”

Do you ever listen to the Paul Simon song “Train in the Distance?” I love this song. When I’m feeling my most perplexed, it’s what I listen to, because to me, it essentially sums up the human condition, and the reasons why I find reflection challenging or infuriating. The general metaphor is that people love the sound of a train in the distance, because it feels like it’s filled with possibilities. This is the line that I love, that I share with people, and then they look at me like “…”:

What is the point of this story
What information pertains
The thought that life could be better
Is woven indelibly
Into our hearts
And our brains

That, for me, in my personal arc of life, is it: there was always this notion that things have to get better than they are now. Maybe when I was at that age I was starting to wonder: I’d finished grad school, I was doing the startup thing, and maybe I was beginning to wonder, “is this as good as it’s gonna get?” And what I love about these lyrics is this concept that what motivates us in essence is that life could be better, and what fucks us up is the notion that life could be better. We’re seeking something more. What I don’t know yet is whether I will be happier when I don’t press to know that answer OR if that wanting of better is what lets us know that we still care.

Who here thinks Russ and I should get together and “just do” some more of his hated activity again soon? ::raises hand::

Any other reflection-haters out there reading this and want to get in on the project before 8/29? Email or leave a comment and let me know if you’re willing to indulge me like Russ did.

Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7Celeste, #8Deanna, #9Kyra, #10; Aditi, #11.

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28 before 29, #11: Aditi

I’m turning 29 in a few weeks. Sparked by the idea that Saturn returns and brings all kinds of big changes around this time, I’m posting a series of interviews asking friends and near-strangers all sorts of nosy questions about what their lives were like at my age.

sunset from fourth ave, bk

Soon after I moved to Brooklyn in 2010 I went in search of a yoga “home” and quickly found it in Aditi Dhruv’s Slow Flow class on Monday nights. Though the Park Slope studio was a bit of a trek from my apartment, and though I took on a lot of weeknight commitments, it quickly became sacred. It was one of the few things I really tried to do every single week that I was in town, because it stretched me out and calmed me down but also because Aditi is one of those teachers who always seems to say exactly what you need to hear.

Most of the time she got down to business pretty quickly. She wasn’t the kind of teacher who would begin class with some long drawn-out philosophy (although after the Times published that article about how yoga can “wreck your body,” she did give us a very serious mini-lecture about how “we are responsible for our own experience”). If she sensed the group slacking, she might get a little stern; then, occasionally, just when the energy in the room felt hard and heavy, she’d find a way to crack herself and all of us up. Sometimes she’d play this and I’d think about how I wouldn’t live in New York forever and fight back tears. Sometimes she’d play this right as we were in some final balancing pose, about to reach our limits, and it made everything feel hilarious. Most of the time things were very quiet and focused. At any rate, if you’re in New York and want a delightful yoga experience, check out her website, or just show up to her classes at Bend and Bloom. I’ll be jealous.

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?

Aditi: “Saturn returns” really didn’t mean anything to me, I’d never heard of it until I turned 28. And then, like you, everyone began clucking about my Saturn returning. And to be honest, I still don’t know what it refers to exactly – I keep envisioning the huge planet doing a U-turn in outer space.  I understand that it’s supposed to be a big time in one’s life, new beginnings, new steps, life challenges and changes, etc.

J: Where were you when you turned 28? What do you remember about that time?

A: I was in NYC, living in Queens and headed to India for a few months. Even though I don’t remember feeling connected to the idea of Saturn returning, looking back, I realize that I was in/did go through a tumultuous time. And going to India for a few months was a sign of that – although I always love being there, being with my family, in hindsight I see that I was also getting out of NYC fast.

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?

A: I don’t feel very close to those memories – but I’m glad to remember them (thanks to you!).  In some ways, I feel like I was a different person back then – very confused of myself, my life’s direction, made some choices that weren’t the smartest/wisest…

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?

A: My advice to anyone, at any time really, is to slow down.  Be mindful. Even be mindful that one may not have answers or a path may not be apparent right now. But if we slow down, quieten ourselves, and listen to our deepest instinct – we know the answers. We already have the wisdom we seek – it’s a matter of pausing, taking a deep breath to refresh ourselves, and observing.

That is exactly what your class always helped me to do, Aditi. Thank you for this, and for two years of weekly reminders to “create my own experience.”

Photo: Phone snapshot of the sunset after my last Slow Flow class this past June. 

Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7Celeste, #8; Deanna, #9; Kyra, #10.

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28 before 29, #10: Kyra Gaunt, Ph.D.

Welcome to the tenth installment of an ongoing series leading up to my 29th birthday in which I ask people what their lives were like at my age.

Three years ago I attended a day of workshops hosted by All Day Buffet’s The Feast in New York City. Kyra Gaunt was by far the best facilitator I encountered that day. Her session was called ”Racism as a Resource: How to Agree to Be Offended” and she kept the dialogue productive, honest, and on track.

Kyra’s website doesn’t have a traditional bio on the “About” page; she simply quotes James Baldwin: “I am what time, circumstance, history, have made of me, certainly, but I am also much more than that. So are we all.” Kyra is much more than her @kyraocity tweets; more than her book, The Games Black Girls Play: Learning the Ropes from Double Dutch to Hip Hop; and more than her TED Fellows talks. But if you’re intrigued by the interview below, I hope you’ll take a look at all of those things.  

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?

Kyra: No.

J: Where were you when you turned 28?

K: In graduate school at University of Michigan pursuing a doctorate in voice.

J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?

K: Looking over the timeline for that year, I don’t clearly remember Mandela’s release though I was an advocate fighting against Apartheid in grad school. I do remember the Exxon Valdez oil spill and thinking how disastrous it was. I was aware of what was happening in Nicaragua under President Bush and was against it. Universities are sites of great info and talks on these kinds of things. I remember heated conversations about Driving Miss Daisy and racial backlash to black actors as drivers and maids in black grad circles. And Mappelthorpe and the NEA was the big controversy of the year. I watched every night with amazement as a war from Gulf was televised and was sickened by the spectacle of killing people from afar and amazed. The fall of the Soviet Union was pretty shocking since I grew up in the duck-and-cover generation.

Overall I was deeply entrenched in singing and trying to get a doctorate in classical voice while I was interested in singing jazz. Singing in an academic context wasn’t ideal for me. I got involved with a lot of grad students outside the School of Music at Michigan and participated in the Students of Color of Rackham org, celebrating and fighting for a university wide holiday on MLK Day which came I think that year to U of M. Also helped to form and organize the National Black Graduate Student Conference at Univ of Michigan that year.

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?

K: Far away now. Took something to jog my memories. But it was over 20 years ago.

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?

K: Honor your commitments to your biology and what inspires you first and foremost. Take care of your body and mind. Slow down.

Thank you, Kyra.

The photo of herself a few years later is courtesy Kyra Gaunt, Ph.D.

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Keep on cooking: This is the way to live

A break from your regularly scheduled programming.*

Today Julia Child would have been 100.

This is a salad I made recently, inspired by the Salade Nicoise recipe in her Mastering the Art of French Cooking:

inspired by julia child
This is a totally charming video of “Julia Child Remixed” by John D. Boswell, aka melodysheep, for PBS Digital Studios:

This is one of Julia Child’s mantras, as captured by artist Lisa Congdon in her 365 Days of Hand Lettering project:

This is my grandma. Today is her birthday, too:

Grandma

Pretty fly and spry for 90, right?

When I was really little, we used to play “Child Julia” (get it?) in her kitchen. We’d pull out her old Joy of Cooking or the recipe cards written out in cursive by her mother, my great-grandmother Gladys. I’d crack the eggs into the brownie mix or cookie dough, facing the toaster (which served as the “camera” in our “TV recording studio”), and narrate each step. When it was time for lunch, during my phase when I hated anything interesting on my sandwiches, my grandma would put mayonnaise and iceberg lettuce between two slices of white bread, cut it into two triangles, point them toward each other on the plate, and tell me it was a butterfly.

This weekend I get some Grandma time and some brand-new niece time and some serious cooking time. Like the dough Julia Child sings about 30 seconds into that video, I am ready to roll.

*Don’t worry; 28 before 29 series will resume shortly. I’ve got lots of ground to cover before August 29th! If you’re reading this and you want to participate, please don’t be shy – comment or email to let me know.

My photos in this post: Salad Nicoise on our Chicago patio, July 2012, 35 mm film; Grannybird, fall 2009, Georgetown, DC. 

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28 before 29, #9: Deanna Zandt

Welcome! This is the ninth in an ongoing series leading up to my 29th birthday in which I ask people what their lives were like at my age. (More details here.

Deanna Z bday

I’ve been trying to remember when I first became aware of Deanna Zandt’s work. It was years ago, way before she launched the #One4One game on Twitter…definitely before her book, Share This! How You Will Change the World with Social Networking was released, because I remember following her (pre-Kickstarter) crowdfunding experiment and being stoked to buy my copy…and I’m sure it preceded the time I saw her speak at a Women, Action, and the Media (WAM!) event in New York. At any rate, I always learn a lot from Deanna’s speaking, writing, and online sharing – and I’m thrilled that she decided to share some of her stories here. 

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?  

Deanna: Yeah, I’m a big astrology nerd, so I’m into it! It’s supposed to be about your big struggle with authority, masculine energy, whatever is concrete and external in the world. Everything that Saturn represents as a planet. Some people call this the “father principle” and interpret it literally, that you’re going to struggle with your dad. That didn’t happen for me, but I did struggle with what I understood his gifts to me to be.

J: Where were you when you turned 28?

D: In New York, living on the Lower East Side. Two days before my 28th birthday was the Blackout of 2003, so it threw my (always large, epic) party plans into a tizzy. A lot of people couldn’t get into the city for the party, but many people who’d planned vacations out of town couldn’t leave, so it all worked out guest-wise. I couldn’t get my hair done like I normally always do because my stylist’s electricity still wasn’t quite right. I was pretty bummed about that – I’m super vain, haha.

The night of the blackout was probably more memorable than my actual birthday that year, so let me share that story. I was working downtown in a high rise in Tribeca when the power went out. My coworkers and I all kind of looked around at each other; it was late in the work day, so I was like, “Woohoo! Let’s go home!” Then we looked out the window and saw smoke coming out of another high rise nearby, and an announcement came on the PA for us to stay at our desks. I had lived in New York through 9/11, and I said out loud, “That’s what they told the people at the World Trade Center. Let’s go, folks.” We all packed up quickly and headed down the stairs. It was a kind of terrifying few minutes. (FYI, the smoke we saw was from that building’s diesel generators kicking in, and was totally normal.)

When we got to the street, hundreds of other people were already there. We didn’t have mobile internet then, so we were relying on word of mouth to figure out what was going on. I was talking to my mom in upstate NY when her company lost power, and we got disconnected. We all started to put it together that something very big was happening.

We meandered about for a bit, and a lot of people started hitting the nearby bars. I was deciding what to do—literally, by choosing what was going to be the most fun, not the safest or anything—and folks in the bars were getting hot without A/C, so everyone started carrying furniture onto the streets. I decided to walk home and meet up with my friends, which was the weirdest walk home ever. It felt like a movie. Traffic was just stupid without the lights, and I remember people walking getting fed up with how kind of helpless, and thus aggro, the drivers were getting. People walking by gnarled intersections would just throw down their stuff on the corner and start directing traffic. In typical NYC fashion, it wasn’t so much to be helpful as it was to prove a point about how things should work.

That night we gathered on my best friend’s roof, and it got really eerie really fast as it got dark. I mean, DARK. You literally could not see across the street. We had heard about bonfire parties happening in Tompkins Square, but my faith in humanity was not so great that I thought that was a safe option for even a big group of mostly women. We had an awesome time on the roof. The stars were insane that night! Plus, you could see silhouettes of skyline in the distance, because NJ got power back before we did. Totally post-apocolyptic. We all stayed over together at my friend’s apartment, assured by city officials that power would be restored by morning.

It was not. I walked around town early that morning, and again, it was like a movie. The streets were empty. We’d heard parts of midtown and uptown had gotten power back, so a couple friends of mine and I jumped on buses and went to find places to charge our cellphones. We were totally reliant on the radio for news. It was so freakin’ weird. Friends who lived in buildings whose water supply was dependent on electricity came over to my little apartment to shower all afternoon. It was the shower parade. We were the last neighborhood (note: demographically the poorest neighborhood) in Manhattan to get power back, at around 9pm that night.

J: What are one or two or several things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?

D: In the wider world, the war on Iraq had launched in March 2003. The political climate was very, very dark. It was a revolutionary act to be publicly against the war; I spent the pre-birthday part of the year going to lots of rallies and trying to figure out what political activism looked like in that climate. I started a little anti-war blog with a boyfriend. Howard Dean was being a badass, and I started going to his events.

Personally, I was frustrated and lost. The two years after 9/11 in New York were a blur of “Nothing matters! We might all die tomorrow!” and “Everything matters! We might die tomorrow!” It really started to eat at me that the world was going to shit around me, and I started thinking that maybe I couldn’t be an hobby activist. I met some really great people that year—three men, actually, there’s your Saturn for ya—who encouraged me to quit my job and become a freelancer. I started freelancing while still working in the fall of 2003, right after my 28th birthday in August, and then quit my 9-to-5 job for good in early 2004.

That was probably where I dealt with the Saturn principle as it relates to my dad the most. He is, besides being one of the funniest people ever, the hardest working man I know. He worked as a phone technician for 40 years before he retired, and has that very down-to-earth, German/Protestant work ethic. Good work was very important to him; not crazy high-paying work, but good work. He still does a lot of odd jobs for neighbors and friends in his retirement.

My 9-to-5 job was good work by his values, and I felt that. But it was making me very unhappy, and I struggled desperately when I was deciding to freelance. Going off into the unknown (especially with very little savings) was not something that was probably a good idea by his principles. He was often quiet when we talked about it, which to me meant, “I’m not really thinking this is a great idea, but I want you to be happy, so I’m just not going to say anything at all.” That actually meant a lot to me, especially in retrospect. Now, of course, he’s super proud of my career, which also means a lot to me.

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them? 

D: Very close. It was an emotionally intense time, very formative for me.

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?

D: Trust your instincts and capitalize on that badass masculine energy. Not like, “hey, go be a macho dude,” but more in the Jungian sense. Masculine energy is about being powerful externally, making things concrete in the world. That’s what Saturn asks us to do, I think. Stop foolin’ around and get to work. Who are you? Show me.

“Own your expertise” was something drilled into me much later at the Progressive Women’s Voices program at the Women’s Media Center. I wish I’d done that more right out of the gate when I first started freelancing and consulting. I’ve since tried to mentor other women younger than me entering the consulting life.

The other part of Saturn is the authority aspect – he asks us to develop our own authority through others’. Find a mentor and be explicit with her. Say, “I’m doing this, and I’d love for you to mentor me.” Keep doing that til someone agrees.

Last, despite all this focus on the external and masculine, don’t forget the internal and feminine energy. Get a good therapist, haha. Nurture and be good to yourself during this time – really, be very sweet and gentle with yourself. Use your internal nurturing strength to build a solid base for all that external badassery.

Big thanks, Deanna. Everybody: Want to enjoy more of Deanna’s badassery? Visit www.deannazandt.com

Photo: Deanna provided the one of herself on her 28th birthday. 

Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6Cathy W., #7; Celeste, #8.

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28 before 29, #8: Celeste

My goal is to post 28 of these interviews before August 29th. That means 20 more posts in 16 days! Will I make it?

Even if I don’t, the project has already been so worth it. I’ve affirmed some things I already knew about my own community. I’ve gotten late night emails that make me laugh out loud or tear up at other people’s memories. I’ve pushed myself to reach out to people I don’t know very well, just because I’m curious about their lives and hope to deepen my relationships with them, and really, the worst they can say is no.

Celly2008

And of course, lots of people haven’t come close to saying no. Today’s interview is with someone who has said “yes” to all kinds of things: yes to a marriage proposal on 09/09/09 and then a bowling alley wedding on 10/10/10. Yes to experiences away from her home country that will broaden her perspective; to nascent, undefined work projects because the idea-germs within them are just too intriguing for her to ignore; to publishing her nonfiction online and reading it in front of strangers; and, sweetly, yes to this project. Everybody, meet Celeste.

Julia: Does the term “Saturn returns” mean anything to you?

Celeste: No, but it reminds me of snooping as a pre-teen in my mom’s closet and finding Linda Goodman’s Love Signs book. I’d leaf through its pages thinking about the boys I had a crush on and seeing how they paired with Capricorn, my astrological sign. I wanted tips on how to make them mine, but being the gangly freckled-faced girl I was, our stars never aligned.

J: Where were you when you turned 28?

C: In Buenos Aires. It was January and my boyfriend-turned husband Craig and I had just moved to Argentina after begging Idealist to let us work there for a few years. For my birthday, we went out to eat at an extravagant Indian restaurant where we ate and ate and ate. When we walked out, bellies stuffed with dosas and curries, we saw a small child in his underwear sifting through garbage with his cartonero parents. It made me ill to see; I couldn’t believe we had just been so ignorantly luxurious. I knew from this moment that Buenos Aires was going to be a different a experience than Peace Corps Guyana, where I had spent my early twenties steeped in idealism, the focus on everyone else besides myself.

J: What are one or two or three things you remember from the year or so surrounding that birthday?

C: My father had passed away the year before, and it was an ugly death rife with family drama worthy of a Lifetime movie. When I turned 28 I was closer to forgiving all that had happened and the people involved, including myself, but there was still some healing to do. Moving to Buenos Aires allowed me the distance that grief sometimes needs.

It was a perfect place to do so, as Argentina is also healing from its own tumultuous past. The novelty of a new environment was rejuvenating as there was an infinite number of things to see, taste, and experience: tango, Malbec, lomo, graffiti, glaciers, Spanish, and most importantly, a community of Argentine and expat friends whose stories, jokes, and kindness enriched me in so many ways. (Although, keeping up with them was sometimes a struggle, as my 28-year-old self continually had to ask my 23-year-old self advice on how to stay up for 10 pm dinner dates and dance parties that started at 1 am.)

I knew Buenos Aires was going to be the last adventure Craig and I would have for a while, as we had plans to get married and have kids once we returned. I’d often have pangs of nostalgia, in the moment while talking to a friend, as if I had already left the country. I could profoundly sense that those few years in Buenos Aires were never going to be recreated. My father’s death had also reminded me of how incredibly fortunate I was to have life still cradling me in its arms, allowing me the freedom to discover, travel, learn, grow.

J: Do you feel close to those memories, or far from them?

C: Those memories are at once deep inside me, but belong to a younger me who I’m not sure I recognize anymore. I’m 32 now, living in a house in Portland, Oregon with a husband and nine-month-old baby. I continually struggle with this new facet of my identity, the part that tells me I can’t just up and go to a concert or sleep in until noon or book a flight to the end of the world.

Yet. I like going to bed early. My father’s death no longer haunts me. I eat choripan at a nearby Argentine food cart and I am nostalgic, but it quickly passes.

J: Do you have any advice for someone going through this (supposedly) astrologically tumultuous time?

C: The year I turned 28, the gap of who I thought I was going to be as an adult versus the reality of who I was made me panic for short time. I felt like a failure. Then I remembered all I’d accomplished over the last decade, all the amazing people I’d met, all the plans for my future. I still had time to write a book. Live in another country again. Make a difference.

So, 28-year-old. Redefine. Rediscover. Reinvent. The possibilities are endless.


DSC_6596
Love love love you, Celeste. Thanks for being a part of this.

Photo of Celeste in Buenos Aires around age 28 by Pablo Tiscornia; photo of Celeste and her daughter Hattie and me this spring by one of our pals in Portland. 

Previous “28 in 29″ posts: Intro; Hannah, #1Kara, #2Saya, #3Cathy (aka Mom), #4Rachel, #5Jen, #6; Cathy W., #7.

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