Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal, Legal

Immigration Court and Mentors

Photo by Simon Maage on Unsplash

Today, thanks to my Immigration Law mentor Surjit Singh, I experienced a full trial, and I got reminded of my parents journey to the United States when they left Tehran, Iran. My grandparents on both sides lived in Iran, and that’s how my parents met.  Sitting in the courtroom today, it hit me how blessed I am to be able to do what I do now. Filled with gratitude with so many taking the time to guide and teach me. I realize that not everyone is so lucky, but I also believe that with each challenge I take on, I also grow, and one day, maybe one day, do the same for others.

Now I admit, it is never easy to teach because one has to put their preconceived notions aside, and be a picture of patience as they walk you through things that are agonizingly simple for them. Yet that’s what great mentors do. They take their time, they make sure they answer all the dumb questions, but most of all they empathize with you. They remember the terror of getting up to the front to speak to a Court Clerk or answer a judge.

The other part that scares me is the starting over. The fear of not knowing what to accept, and doing it anyway. The one thing I am comfortable now is being uncomfortable. No longer do I allow myself to freeze and convince myself not to try something new, foreign, scary. If I am not growing, then what is the point of life?

And so I ended my work day in gratitude, eager to keep growing, to keep learning, to never say enough. Because that is the day I die. Happy Monday!

Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

Morning Quiet

Photo by Erik Nielsen on Unsplash

In the morning quiet, there is an ebb and flow of thoughts and feelings. The incense stick fragrance comforts but also tells me time is running out. The sense of urgency to DO rather than BE so overwhelming that it suffocates, and yet I still force myself to sit. To be. To take it in, to slow the mind down, to not go on to the next thing, to not become so task focused that I lose sight of my vision. Yet there is also an undercurrent of sadness and grief that I dare not expose. Acknowledging that pain feels dangerous like I am naked, and no protection,

The morning quiet looms, and flashes of so much to do races through my mind, but I wonder what’s the point of checking off one more to do item. What is the point? The mind continues to race past the station of awareness. Stopping at the pain not an option. Diving into the sadness and loneliness feels like self-pity. And so I watch the incense burn away just like dawn, and light comes into the room, hiding my pain.

The hands tremble as I write the Morning Pages, and I try to envision my Artist Date, and it feels as if I am stuck in a life of pretense and pretend that all is well while the mind and heart swirl in indecision, and fear of failure.  Each moment, a struggle to understand this moment in my life, how i get here. Then the morning light hits, the darkness recedes from the house, and as the room brightens so do my thoughts and feelings.

The house fills with small noises, the dog jumping off the bed, her paws clicking on the hardwood floors. In the distance, the garbage trucks beeps as it picks up cans. Muffled chirps from birds. All seems right, yet the mind churns and churns. The deep pain streams inside, but for the moment, the  morning quiet brings a quietness inside, and another day starts. I sit there, taking it all in, then a deep breath and begin another 24 hours.

 

Family, Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

Birthday Remembrances

How do you celebrate someone no longer here? No longer to wish, no longer to tease, no longer to hear their cough while  they to talk, no longer to see, hold, hug, to make smile. No longer. Each birthday now a cruel reminder that they are not here. What do you do with that information? I recently heard a Ted talk that really did hit home. We don’t move on from grief, we move forward with it. We don’t the person like a moment gone, but part of you as someone who contributed to your life.

Yet the pain remains, and perhaps boring to the ones who don’t feel the same, but the talk says the biggest thing people say is that they can’t imagine, but the truth is, if they truly wish to make an impact, they should. They should try to imagine the loss because we will all die, and how we treat the living when near and dear ones go is how they will be treated when they have a loss.

This isn’t about right or wrong, it’s about compassion, kindness, patience, and really, really digging in deep to see the ones close to us in pain who still smile, laugh, engage, but there is a sadness tinged to it. I am truly blessed to have so much time with my aunt and Dad, but the greedy me wants more. It aches for those lost times when they were down the street, and I chose to do something else. I now wonder if they ached to spend more time with me. If I deprived them love that they deserved. So many unanswered questions, and so I sit and reflect and the pain just feels overwhelming.

And yet I also fail to seek support, to let others know the emotional pain feels suffocating. Pride? Shame? Regret? I don’t know. But as I write these words, the burden feels an ounce lighter, and maybe, just perhaps it needed to said. Happy Birthday. I love you. And I miss you.

Just Maybe that is enough. Maybe.

Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

Happiness

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

It’s easy to show images of happiness. Easy to show connection on social media and amongst others, but what happens behind the door when it’s just the two of you?  Relationships are hard when each of us have our own version of what life is supposed to be like. This past week I saw many couples who are sitting across each on their phones, lost in another world.

I watched people walking the streets, scrolling away on the phone. Our lives are becoming filtered through our smart phones and I wonder what effect that has on our relationships. We no longer are bored or allowing ourself to just feel.And so I put the phone down and look around, and what I see scares me. When did life become about presenting the best version of ourselves rather than the actual messy thing it is? What will happen to connections when it’s easier to text each other rather than pick up the phone and talk about tough things.

And then I think that happiness is what we want to feel, and we can create it and it doesn’t rely on others but phones make it seem otherwise. And so I see all this happiness and I wonder if I am happy with what’s in my life. It’s not easy to process because it is so much easier to avoid and deny, but then I realize I am not  doing myself any favors. I sit here, and breathe in the life around me. And I think about what happiness means to me. It is living my vision, my purpose, to feel connected, be vulnerable and be authentic.

It is not easy, and it’s what makes happiness so elusive. And so I continue on this path of not knowing what happiness really means, but I also know that it means to be true to myself. Just some random thought I thought I’d share which, of course, many of us will read on a phone. Go figure.

Happy Monday

Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

Samurai

This past weekend, I attended a workshop called Samurai Game. A dear friend enrolled me into it by explaining it would be great to do it together. I initially resisted as I have so much on my plate, and to be quite honest, my attitude was I am good. I don’t need any more transformational training. But I had committed to us doing something together and so I agreed. I did not look into the workshop nor did I want to know what it was about. My goal was to be present, and really just be with my friends.

And yet, I am back this week feeling rejuvenated, and pleased and angry and frustrated and grateful for the experience. Over and over, I go over things and how I could have been different.  And yet when I truly think about it, the workshop was a reflection of where I am in my life. It was a perfect mirror of how I show up, and although some parts discouraged me, I knew I had come a ways. And that meant progress, success, being on right path. It reminded me of what I need to continue to work on, the weaknesses, and the areas that still need improvement. The old me would see that as failure, but now I recognize it as part of my journey.

Samurai Game taught me who I am as a leader, and the path I need to go on. It also forced me to accept the consequences when I failed to be a true Samurai. I highly recommend it to anyone!