the hummingbird's lesson

Love cannot be hunted.
          In unlikely moments it descends upon us
               with all the grace of a rainshower
                    on the most unbearable July day,
     enveloping our bodies and
     exhorting our spirits to dance.

Neither can it be captured
                       or kept for oneself.
          As it is with the hummingbird,
               sipping from these purple trumpets,
               so it is also with love:
                                 captivity defies its very essence.

It must be unbound
     and shared freely --
Only then can this private gift
          expand exponentially to permeate
                       heretofore unseen and unknown realms.

          Only then can love fulfill its one true purpose:
     to awaken the soul of the world.

To Live Side by Side

     Oh dear. I would apologize and repent for my prolonged blog-silence if I could guarantee it would not happen again. Alas, I can make no such promise and only do my best to retrieve the metaphorical ball, which has been dropped innumerable times before. I can assure you that I have been gainfully employed by other significant undertakings, such as applying to and beginning grad school. At the moment, I am nestled in shoebox-size Cambridge apartment, waiting for Hurricane Sandy to go along her merry way. Hasn't anyone delivered the news of her demotion to tropical storm? Our current state of lock-down on the East Coast has afforded me the opportunity for great productivity... and consequentially, great procrastination. Appropriately, this post is a bit of both.
     As most of you know, I am in a Master's program for Expressive Therapies (technically, Expressive Therapies: Dance/Movement Therapy with a Specialization in Mental Health Counseling, but that is quite a mouthful). Though I wish sincerely I could offer you a clear, concise explanation, I am still piecing that together for myself day by day. In lieu of a neatly packaged definition, I invite you to take this journey with me, as I explore the nature of people, particularly how we move and are moved.
     The following excerpt is from a journal entry for my Theories & Practices of Dance/Movement Therapy class. For those who do not know, Norma Canner (whose article I discuss in this section) was a gifted dance/movement therapist and a founder of the Expressive Therapies program at Lesley University in 1974. She died in February of this year and I was able to attend the Norma Canner remembrance night at Lesley this fall.
     The theme that seems to be bubbling into my consciousness most this week is the tension between fragmentation and wholeness. As human beings, we experience fragmentation and disconnection on many levels, I believe: from those around us (both loved ones and unknown neighbors), amongst different (sometimes conflicting) expressions or "versions" of ourselves, and the various activities of our lives (e.g. work, play, worship, school). In many cases, the prospect of integrating all these aspects can be challenging, at best, and potentially destructive or traumatic, at worst. However undesirable its effects, dissociation sometimes serves as the brain's only option to protect itself from irreparable harm. For all of the DSM-IV Dissociative Disorders, etiology is nearly always linked to a chronic or acute stressor, particularly clinically traumatic events such as sexual abuse. In extreme cases, dissociation becomes the least of two evils. However, persistent dissociative behavior can become a maladaptive and dangerous coping mechanism.
     The reading this week, particularly Norma Canner's article, deals with fragmentation and the threats to wholeness. At first glance these issues might not seem as extreme as Dissociative Identity Disorder, where an individual cognitively creates discrete alters, but they are pervasive and often go unnamed and unnoticed. Canner speaks about two significant disconnects that we experience, especially in an industrialized, post-modern society. First, Canner states, "We are unable to live side by side with the rivers, the sea, the air, the forest, and the animals. We are destroying these life-giving resources of the earth" (p. 126). Indeed we are disconnected from much of what sustains us -- the trees and plants that fill our lungs; the plants and animals that feed us; the water that quenches our thirst, but also sustains everything, which in turn sustains us. In this age of technical advancement, we have become so detached from everything but our own immediate needs and desires. In fact, we are encouraged to be so because we think our "worth is judged by [our] possessions and achievements" (p. 126). I believe this detachment, materialism, and individualism affects us both as individuals and as a community, becoming part of what Mary Atkins (as quoted by Canner) called the "cultural unconscious."
     The second form of disconnection Canner points out is this: "We are unable to live side by side with each other. We long for a sense of community, but lack the tools to create it" (p. 126). The danger (well, one of them) of living in the United States, where independence is esteemed not only as a right but also as a virtue, is that we downplay and even reject the importance of community. Obviously a certain degree of autonomy is crucial to human development and survival, but to presume that we, as individuals or as nations, can exist as isolated, discrete bodies is not only sad but also unfounded and slightly delusional. Thus, the challenge for all of us, but especially dance/movement therapists, is to find productive, healing ways to integrate the fragments of our selves and our world. I do not agree with Canner that we don't possess the tools to create community. They are within us already, waiting to be realized.

veggie delight

 Slowly but surely I am teaching myself to cook... mostly with vegetables because they are forgiving and if somehow you do something truly atrocious, balsamic vinegar can fix it. During a recent baking experience, my sister explained to me that the order in which you add things actually does matter... news to me! Thankfully, I've found that most other cooking seems to allow more room for spontaneity, creativity and, well, mistakes. For Christmas, I gave my mom a voucher for a "vegetable feast" because I'm on a mission to cram as many antioxidants, vitamins, and generally healthful things into our bodies as possible. Tonight, as the fulfillment of my Christmas promise and in celebration of my mama's birthday, I made ratatouille -- a dish I honestly didn't know existed until Remy whipped it up in the delightful 2007 Disney/Pixar animated film.

Though originally a French recipe, ratatouille is anything but ostentatious or stuck-up. Although the process is about 1.5 hours long, this vegetarian meal can last for days and is well worth the time and energy. You should start by simmering the tomato base with some garlic and basil, while chopping the assortment of veggies as haphazardly as you desire. In my stewy version I included eggplant, zucchini, onions, and bell peppers. In order to showcase their unique flavors, it is advisable to cook each vegetable separately and then add them to the simmering tomato mixture for the final few minutes. And then we spread the deliciousness over a bed of jasmine rice.

In one of the many entertaining scenes in Ratatouille, Linguini remarks, "Ratatouille doesn't sound delicious. It sounds like 'rat' and 'patootie.' Rat-patootie, which does not sound delicious." However unappetizing its name might be, your tastebuds will not be misled -- try it and believe! I don't know if I would have passed Anton Ego's test, but I think my family enjoyed it... am I right or am I right?

As I lie in bed, the scent of a successful Sunday and scrumptious meal hits me... yes, fresh garlic on my fingertips.

when words fail us

Working at a residential placement for teenage girls with serious emotional and behavioral disorders, I am challenged every day by frustration, anger, fear, and disappointment. Unexpectedly, it is not my own, but theirs: the frustration after she studied and still failed a test; the anger when her mom announced she is moving to another state; the fear that she will never have a real home again; the disappointment from finding out her court date has been pushed back. I have seen girls so desperate to release their escalating emotions that they break windows, slap each other, and even cut themselves. As a student of psychology, I understand that destructive behaviors like these are genuine yet inappropriate attempts to regulate emotions or “big feelings,” as a former supervisor calls them.

Despite this psychological explanation, I am still amazed by the extent to which relational and personal experiences can be felt in an intensely physical way. After returning from a difficult home visit, one of our residents dissolved into a violent breakdown, during which she confirmed my developing theory that emotional experiences are deeply connected to physical reactions. While clutching her stomach tightly, she shouted to anyone who would listen, “I have this anger inside of me, here.” Minutes later, she swung a broom at the office window. Oftentimes we discourage such physical reactions and suggest that others use their words to communicate. However, there are moments when words fail us and we can no longer articulate with language what is happening or how we feel. Acknowledging the limits of verbal communication, we must ask this question: How can we express ourselves without speaking? And from there, let your creativity take over...

keep breathing

Last night as I drove home from my Pilates class, I joined thousands of other Southern Californians in watching a truly gorgeous sunset. I have been lucky enough to see grand forests full of moss-covered trees, rocky crags along the ridges of towering volcanoes, and blindingly white sandy beaches that arc into an eternity of clear blue... but the sight of nectarine and rose-colored streaks across the sky on this random Tuesday in January took my breath away.

There are times when we feel so overwhelmed and lost that nothing can calm us, bring us back to life. We flail in this violent sea, barely treading fast enough to come up for air.

And then when we least expect it, the battle stops. Perhaps momentarily, but that is all it takes. To remember who we are and where -- to keep going.

Picture from Northern Ireland You Never Thought You'd See

Thanks to Robin Kirk for emailing this out:

http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/opinion/columnists/lindy-mcdowell/picture-from-northern-ireland-you-thought-yoursquod-never-see-14900831.html

Our group met and knew William "Plum" Smith and Jackie McDonald. Also, I walked by that mural on the Falls at least every day, going to the gym!

Closer to Home

I cannot believe I've been home for nearly two weeks. The landscape of Belfast's city centre had become more familiar than the Los Angeles skyline, but I sighed contentfully at the sight of the palm tree-lined grid of streets and the jam-packed freeway lanes. I had already indulged in a McDonald's cone at the Newark airport (they must use a different formula in the UK!) and now all that was left to be desired was my bed. Of course I was excited to see my mom and let her kiss me alot, but after that all you really want after a 24-hour travel day is a warm shower and BED. Wish granted at approximately 9pm PT!

And then I woke up at 2pm...Belfast time. It took a few days to adjust, but you'll be relieved to know I am not waking up with the sun anymore.

Over the past several days, I've tried to explain many things to family and friends, including DukeEngage, Northern Ireland, the Troubles, my role at Lisburn PSP. All of these have come to mean so much to me that sometimes I can't find the right words to represent them wholely. However, one of the most challenging questions came from my incredibly perceptive and intelligent grandfather, who asked, "In what way were you, as American students, able to contribute where you were working?" This is certainly a question with which I wrestled throughout the program. Sometimes I was concerned that I was gaining more from the experience than I was giving in return. What I learned is that for many people, it is natural to identify needs that can be filled, but it is more challenging to step back, soak up the environment, listen to people, and learn by following. Following?! Yes, a long-lost art among overachieving, motivated college students, but it seems to me a skill for true service that is equally important to leading.

Leadership + followership = service.

After you recover from being awestruck by my profound equation for service, I will tell you something else I learned. From working with the people at Lisburn PSP and the community centre, I saw firsthand that people sustain energy for a project or cause in which they are truly invested. Today, the "trend" seems to be international service, which I am not trying to discourage by any means. But we also need to remember that our greatest value often lies in what we know. We have the most significant working knowledge about the communities where we've spent the most time and the people with whom we have formed relationships. It's interesting that my international DukeEngage experience taught me the importance of looking closer to home for ways to transform my skills and knowledge into action.

My sincere endeavor now is to keep my eyes and ears open. There's a lot of world outside of Duke University and it not's separate from us. We are part of the world. Just tonight, NBC aired a Dateline special with Ann Curry, entitled "America Now - Friends & Neighbors," which focused on a town in southeastern Ohio and the severe poverty that has been intensified by the recession of the past few years. (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38382773/ns/dateline_nbc-america_now) There are few adults who are lucky enough to obtain a mininum-wage job because company after company has gone under. Fourteen people living in 4 rooms, children sleeping on the floor, parents going hungry for days to feed their kids, local food banks nearly closing due to funding withdrawal -- all of this within a few miles of people who singlehandedly could afford to support several of these families with money they wouldn't feel missing from their bank accounts. This is America. And the uppercrust which has no personal experience with this kind of poverty is the smallest minority in the world.

So, whoever you are and wherever you are, keep thinking, listening, and (when appropriate) acting.

Week 8: The Final Days

Before you say it, I know it's been longer than a week since my last post! My absence is due to our busy schedule during our last couple of weeks in Belfast lest you think I was running out of things to say / write about. Now the difficulty will be pouring out everything out of this full noggin...

I am finally at the point where I knew the bus schedules and ice cream selection at various corner stores by heart and even count out 76 pence in change (the exact amount of a Twister) without getting flustered by all the coins. And now we're leaving. I would be lying if I said (typed?) that I didn't miss home - because I do. But Belfast has become yet another pseudo-home, complete with favorite places and new friends. My list of pseudo-homes is growing slowly: Boston/Somerville, Durham, and Belfast. And now we're just supposed to pick up and leave?? Yes, I guess that's the deal I signed up for with this DukeEngage program. In fact, I think I had to sign something saying that if I don't leave the country at the end of 8 weeks, they will use force to get me home.

Thus, our goodbyes began. First, Mike and I had to say goodbye to Sharon and Adie-- our wonderful supervisors for the summer and managers of Lisburn Prisoners Support Project. We all worked together in the cozy Credit Union office and the close quarters fostered close working relationships. Thankfully, we got to see Sharon and Adie one last time over the weekend because Adie invited us to join his family for their community's bonfire in celebration of the Twelfth. The "Twelfth" is the Protestant celebration on the 12th of July that originally was designed to celebrate King William of Orange's victory over King James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Three hundred and twenty years later, I highly doubt that people (especially younger generations) are still celebrating this triumph. Now it is a deeply-rooted tradition that starts with the burning of massive bonfires on the Eleventh night and ends with a day-long parade of Orangemen and bands through Belfast (and other cities in Northern Ireland). The "marching season" is fairly tense because TONS of flags are flown, including some paramilitary emblems (although the number has decreased signifcantly in recent years) and because the marches pass through many neighborhoods, including some Catholic ones. The route of a lawful march has to be approved the Parades Commission, who try to accomodate the Orangemen's (Protestant) desired route while respecting the Catholic communities opposition to the parades going through their neighbourhoods. Sounds like civilized compromise, but both sides become embittered through this push-and-shove process. A recurring theme in Northern Ireland's history is one group feeling (rightly or wrongly) as though giving something to the others lessens what they have -- i.e. if you get more rights, ours will be limited. An interesting position to consider...

Yes, it's tradition -- but sometimes that's not a good enough reason to keep doing something. I'm sure you can think of some examples without any prompts from me. All I know is that while I was appreciative of the warmth coming from the huge backyard fire, it was eerie to see the tricolor flag (of Ireland; representative of the nationalist community) burning on top. No matter what way you spin it, that's not friendly or peaceful. This is a very complicated (and dare I say heated) issue, so feel free to respond and/or ask questions.

Another goodbye we had to say was to Farset and the wonderful staff, including the manager Ruth -- who cooked me my first (and only) heart-clogging Ulster Fry. Trying the combo of fried egg, sausage, bacon, soda bread, potato bread, and beans was on my to-do list. Phew! So glad I've got that checked off now.

Finally, we are going to have to say goodbye to each other and our shared summer in Belfast. Hold up! Let's not get ahead of ourselves -- our flight doesn't leave for another 30 hours. There's still time...

Come What May: One Cancelled Bus, 3-hr Layover, and Flash Flood Later

The blisters on my feet, caused by a fair amount of walking around Belfast last Friday in a pair of brilliant blue suede shoes, have healed. Thus marks the passage of another weekend. Sadly, only two remain before we all head to our respective American homes.

But for the next couple weeks, our lives are still very much here, in Belfast. We wake up each morning, some of us sit down for breakfast in the café (while others grab an apple, if they’re lucky), and we catch different buses to our places of work. At work, we complete tasks, but we also converse with our employers and coworkers, laugh together, and eat Twisters or hummus & pita. At the end of the day, we return home -- to Farset. Never has a hotel or hostel felt more like home. Drawn to the lobby by the force-field of (potential) Internet connection, we sit for hours sometimes – watching episodes of Californication, the Bachelorette, Glee, or Entourage. Maybe even deciding on and committing to a full-length feature film. We unwind together and talk with those who pass through Farset’s doors. We aren’t just doing DukeEngage program – we are living life.

Eight weeks never seemed an exceptionally long period of time and now only 16 days remain. However, as our wise coordinator Ama pointed out, we still have 30% of our time left and we ought to make the most of it without overscheduling ourselves -- great advice, especially when we all have so many things that we would still love to do. Obviously, we won’t be able to do it all, but that’s no reason to fret! The depth of our experience is not necessarily measured in how many miles we travel from city centre…

This past weekend, there was a moment when our plans to go up the Antrim coast to Giant’s Causeway were all falling apart. We stood in the Great Victoria Street station being told that the 10am bus trip had been cancelled. Poo. Well, let’s take a train! So, we made it to Coleraine and took the Causeway Rambler bus along the beautiful, cliffy coast to the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge. After walking and then dancing across the less-than-terrifying bridge, we wound our way back to the rest stop. Little did we know that the bus only comes every 3 hours, so we had a good 1.5 left to wait – at first enjoying each other’s company and then becoming slightly irked.

In an attempt to watch the entire US v. Ghana World Cup game (a valiant effort which unfortunately was not rewarded with a favorable outcome), most of the group decided to forgo the Bushmills Distillery and Giant’s Causeway. Though we’ve managed to avoid overly touristy locations, Courtney W. and I really wanted to see the famed hexagonal rock formations at Giant’s Causeway, so we hopped off the bus in good faith that another would return to collect us. Courtney and I came to the came conclusion that Giant’s Causeway can unquestionably be appreciated in less than 30 minutes. We power-walked to a smaller bus, which conveyed us to the site of the rock formations. While we were efficiently staging a photo shoot on the really awesome rocks, buckets of rain were released from the sky flash-flood-style, which made the rocks slippery and the visit quite memorable. As Courtney eloquently stated, it’s not every day that you get to see rocks! Fifteen minutes later we were on our way back to the train station.
You just can’t do everything, no matter where you are - in Northern Ireland, North Carolina, Michigan, Massachussetts, or California. If all you think about while you’re doing one thing is that you have a hundred more to do, are you really gaining much from the experience? During these next couple of weeks, I hope to have the energy to do as much as possible, but also to have the wisdom to discern what is most valuable.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood...

As Mike and I waited for the 8:57 bus (which never came) this morning, we were amused by the observation that it was another uncharacteristically sunny day in Belfast. During the 2-day DukeEngage Academy prior to our departure, our director Robin had asked us what we were most curious/worried about – I believe two-thirds of the group had voiced concerns about the rain. This fear was not unfounded – Robin had warned us that it could be quite cold and/or wet even during the summer in Northern Ireland and since we have been here, a countless number of people have commented on what great weather we were enjoying. To this point, my rain boots have remained idly stationed in the closet, except for the day they were donned by Sean when he ventured into a stinging-nettle-filled marshland to retrieve the lost soccer ball. Recap: today was a beautiful day, but the bus was late.

The next bus finally arrived, allowing us to catch our connecting train and make it to our Conflicts of Interest course. Mike and I have been attending this weekly course, which is run for a women’s group in a Protestant/Loyalist estate of Lisburn. For the first hour, the tutor focuses on specific conflicts in different time periods and regions (e.g. Northern Ireland, the Balkans, etc.) and engages the women (+ Mike) in a discussion about the topic and especially how it relates to our own situations/lives. The second hour is led by a guest speaker – not necessarily an “expert,” but usually someone who has a unique experience with the conflict/violence in N. Ireland. This set-up might not seem too revolutionary, but it has yielded some thought-provoking questions for all and these women have a forum in which they can talk openly about issues of their community and country. Many of the women in the group have young children and would not be able to engage in courses like this without the childcare that is provided by Colin SureStart at the Centre.

With the rest of the afternoon off, I moseyed over to South Belfast, passing Queen’s University and joining Ama (our coordinator, a Duke History PhD student) for lunch at The Barking Dog. Truthfully, this restaurant is simply BRILLIANT. Last Sunday, I tried their Fisherman’s Pie, which was slightly different (and yes, I think better) than the one I had at Robinson’s. Sean, who also indulged in the Pie, described it as “more like a collage, where each ingredient spoke for itself,” referring to the distinct chunks of fish (scallops, salmon, shrimp, etc.) and vegetables underneath the fluffy potato covering. Today, I tried the chicken & avocado wrap, which came highly recommended, and absolutely had to finish with dessert: passionfruit cheesecake & chocolate ice cream. Mmmmhmmm! (Mommy, this was almost better than mango cheesecake in Hawaii…)

After lunch, I wandered through the Botanic Gardens, including one of the greenhouses called the Palm House. It was a beautiful, humid oasis of all sorts of foliage! I proceeded to film a mini- guided tour on my camera, which I will upload to Facebook soon. The rest of the afternoon was filled with reading on a park bench, browsing in a small bookstore, and walking back to city centre. I invested in a copy of Brave New World – not sure why I didn’t own it before, but now I can reread it in Belfast!

I hope this gives you a better sense of the sorts of things we are doing while we are here in Northern Ireland. I feel a bit more acclimated and less like a tourist/visitor every day – somebody even asked me for directions yesterday and was surprised when I started speaking that I was American! Mission accomplished.

Asking Questions ...and Returning the Favor

The best writers always write what they know. How many times has this line been parroted to aspiring journalists and novelists, even high school seniors trying to compose college essays? While this may be true for writing, I don't think it should be extrapolated to our thinking -- especially to the point where we become afraid to form opinions about novel places/ideas. In the past 2 weeks, we've seen/heard a lot and then we have been asked (as we are still processing all the information) to respond -- What do you guys think about this? And more often than not, we do have thoughts -- it's not that our minds are blank, but rather that we don't know how to connect all the thoughts in a logical manner. It's the same way I feel about voting: I shouldn't do it unless I have all the information. Making a well-informed decision is admirable, but you can’t always get ALL the information. When we use generalizations excessively, we kindle a laziness of mind – we stop looking at the world around us critically. Our perspectives can then degenerate until we are ruled by what psychologists call a confirmation bias – where we extract and retain only the information that supports our preexisting schemata (paradigms of people, places, concepts, etc). Essentially, there is a happy medium where we can supplement all the available information with our own relevant past conversations and experiences.

Okay, now I can hear you pleading, “Lindsay, will you stop philosophizing about knowledge, ignorance, and confirmation biases!”
So, here are a few things I think and/or know:

1. People in Northern Ireland (Belfast specifically) are exceptionally kind and good-humored, despite the sarcastic and sometimes brusque nature of their humor. Living in our hostel (Farset) where we connect to the internet in the lobby has supplied many interesting conversations with various people who are passing through. Everyone is genuinely interested in where we are from, what we are doing. Some ask why we came to Belfast of all places, but others understand. Perhaps what I appreciate about Northern Irish people is that they don’t do small talk. Whether I agree completely, am completely shocked, or somewhere in between, people never fail to give their honest stories, thoughts and opinions.

2. Many women are young mothers and don’t (continue to) work full- or even part-time. (I need to briefly qualify this statement by reflecting that I have been immersed in predominantly working-class areas of Belfast and Lisburn and so this sample may not be completely representative of the city and country.) Today I went with a group of about 60 women to visit the site of the Maze Prison (which housed the majority of political prisoners during the Troubles). During lunch, a couple women next to me agreed that the visit had been interesting, adding that if they hadn’t come they would just be sitting in their houses watching TV. About a week ago, I asked my officemate Joanne (the manager of the community centre where I’ve been working) what she thought about the situation for women in N. Ireland. She explained that in order to get benefits (for housing, food, etc), women have to be working less than 16 hours/week. If they work more than that, they receive fewer benefits. Essentially, this system discourages people (women especially) from working. Why would they choose to work x amount of hours if they could just stay at home with the kids and receive the same amount of money? When current Sinn Fein Councillor Tom Hartley (former Lord Mayor of Belfast) came over for dinner, we discussed this issue, which he termed the “benefit trap.” I must confess that I’m a bit baffled by the intricacies of the welfare system in America – there seem to be similar issues and problems, but if anyone would like to comment/respond, I’d really like to understand it better.

3. Many people in the community are part of an active peace process (in Belfast and beyond), but there is still marked division and resentment runs deep. As Cllr. Hartley pointed out, war is not hard to make, but peace is. The generation who lived through the height of the conflict (‘70s-‘90s) is now helping the country heal and regenerate in so many ways, but they also pass along some of their anger and prejudice to the new generation (people who are my age). Heading to Scotland for a match, Protestants who support the Rangers travel on a different boat than Catholics who support the Celtics (two Glasgow football teams). This rivalry represents much more than a sports team preference – it is culture and identity. (Someone explained it as UNC / Duke, USC / UCLA, or Red Sox / Yankees, but with violent sectarianism. Fans from opposite sides have even killed each other…)
During our trip to Derry/Londonderry (termed “Stroke City” because of its attempt to placate both Catholics and Protestants with the city’s name), a Republican ex-prisoner gave us a tour of the murals in the Bogside. Near the end of the tour, he mentioned a Protestant figure, who is now in her 80s and suffering from a neurodegenerative disease and confessed without guilt or apology that he is disappointed because he wanted to see her die a slow, painful death. While I can’t imagine a more painful way to die than slowly losing memories and eventually the ability to function, I was more shaken by this man's blatant hatred. When is it acceptable (to society, to you?) to hate someone? When they’ve killed your mother or father? Your child? Your wife or husband? All of the above? These are completely relevant and crucial questions if there is any desire to foster reconciliation. Robin (director of the N. Ireland DE program) explained that on an interface, like where we are living on Springfield Rd, somebody might see on a regular basis the person who killed one of their family members. Is it unreasonable that the people in these communities don’t want the 40-foot peace walls removed?

I’ve just given you a taste of some thoughts running through my mind. But now, it’s your turn! Please write back/comment with questions about anything – something you’ve heard, read here or somewhere else, or anything you’re curious about. I will do my best to respond promptly and find the answers, if I can’t answer them myself.

A Smorgasbord of Craic

It's is high time that I posted some photos from the past 2 weeks, especially for those who like visual proof of how I'm spending my days here! (With respect to the entry's title, *NB*: "craic" means fun here, not an illegal addictive substance.)

Most important: FOOD. Within hours of arriving in Belfast, we located a tasty restaurant called Robinson's, which is directly across from the train station. The super-yummy (mmhmm, my vocabulary is expanding daily) option is always the catch of the day, which is probably related to our prime location on the coast of an island. Below is the mouth-watering Fisherman's Pie that seduced half of our group with its cheesy, potatoey deliciousness:

Since potatoes (in all shapes, sizes & textures) have been included in almost every meal, I knew it was necessary to stay in shape. Last week I got my Boost leisure centre membership and have been going to work out regularly. My one experience with lap swimming thus far was a bit like playing dodgeball. A few older men decided that they'd like to swim the short length of the pool, forcing other swimmers to swerve out of the way to avoid collisions. Oh well -- will try again, possibly at a different (less busy?) time of day. However, there are many other opportunities to burn off (some of) the calories ingested from massive amounts of fries, wedges and champ. Our first weekend here, we packed picnic-lunches and hiked up Cavehill. The pictures don't completely capture the immensity of this "hill," considering we all woke up the next day with incredibly sore calves.

After 3 hours of climbing, we made it to the edge of that cliff, which offered an amazing view of Belfast and the surrounding areas. The hike down went by much more quickly, partially because I slid down some rocky slopes -- leaving my hands a bit dirty and scratched.

Our adventure the following weekend was a trip to Londondery/Derry, which I will describe in a later post because I anticipate going back soon.

...Which brings me to this weekend! On Saturday morning, we caught a train for Bangor, which is about 30 minutes east of Belfast. As we stepped out of the station, a breath of Southern California blew over me -- I smelled the salty air, heard the ocean's waves, and felt the cool breeze. We grabbed lunch at a wonderful little sandwich shop, walked along the coast, and then ate on the rocks overlooking the sea. The weekend continued yesterday with a lazy-day marathon of the Bachelorette & SYTYCD viewing. Even when you're somewhere new and exciting, sometimes you still need a relaxing day off...

Oh, and by way of introduction, here are the DukeEngage Northern Ireland ladies (from right): Ashly, Courtney W., Colby, Courtney D., and Lindsay.

Tea, Biscuits & Irish Stew

Even before leaving the U.S., I was told that the people in Northern Ireland were welcoming and friendly. Arriving here 10 days ago, I was excited to meet lots of people, but still hesistant that as an American I would be a laughable foreigner. Obviously there are moments when my visitor-status is completely clear to me (and everyone else!), but most of the people I've come into contact with have been tolerant and understanding -- able to tell me kindly that the word I heard as "rats" was actually the word "riots."

Food is perhaps the most universal way that people express gratitude, love, and a whole plethora of warm fellow-feelings. Since I am offered tea and biscuits at least three times a day, I can only assume that Northern Irish people have a lot of love to give. On Friday, when Mike and I arrived at work at the Credit Union of Lisburn PSP (Prisoners Support Project), Sharon greeted us with blueberry muffins and told us to ease into our short work day.

That's another thing -- the pace is so refreshingly different here. The people I'm working with clearly care about their work, but they don't rush from meeting to meeting. They also aren't persnickety -- Joanne, my officemate says. At first, I was concerned that I don't possess skills that are relevant and useful to my placement with the Lisburn PSP and LaganView Enterprise Centre. Then I found out they wanted me to write a sort of evaluation report on the community centre where I'm working and my first thought was, I have no idea how to do that. I don't have any experience with business or consulting! But this week I learned that I can and if I actively develop my newfound skill, I will be able to contribute in a meaningful way to this program.

But back to FOOD. Mmmm. Today I was hanging out with Ruth, the manager of Farset International (the hostel where we're living), and we were figuring out how to upload photos to her Facebook. Having just returned from the gym, I realized that I only had canned beans to quiet the rumbling sounds my tummy was making. Without missing a beat, Ruth insisted that I have some of the stew she made from scratch yesterday. Her offer was music to my ears. After devouring the whole bowl, I felt full (hehe) and so grateful for a home-cooked meal.
Our wonderful long weekend included a group trip to Derry and the Continental/International Market in Belfast and now another week is about to begin. Will write again soon!

Quick hello...and cheerio!

After an entire week at our placements, I can say this much: a) public transportation in Belfast is extremely prompt, but a 7-mile journey that takes 45 minutes can become slightly tedious, b) I am learning how to do consulting by trial-and-error, but have tons of helpful people helping, c) tea/coffee is offered to me approximately 5 times a day, and d) I am still pretending that "biscuits" aren't actually cookies and have some nutritional value.

I will give a more complete update on all of the happenings this past week has brought, but I didn't want to seem like I was neglecting you all (sidenote: I have been saying y'all way too often recently...SCARY).

Our group is off to Derry/Londonderry (termed Stroke City for attempting to be neutral in its name) in about 10 minutes!!! A two-hour trip to the northwest and we will soon be learning about the city's history, particularly about Bloody Sunday. Look it up and then read this short article: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/bloody-sunday-report-to-be-published-on-15-june-1983918.html

My director passed this article onto us and it will be interesting to be here when the report is released on June 15th...

Apologies that this is so quick and rushed -- more to come soon. CHEERS!

A Tale of Two Cities?

While everyone else seems to have adjusted to the time difference, I've been waking up at 5am for the past two days. Great. Since the sun doesn't set here until 9:30pm or so, it is very easy to lose track of time and stay up late. Then, sunrise at 5am awakens me with its gloriously bright rays, which (especially after a night out in Belfast) I do not necessarily appreciate. However, the brilliant early morning sunshine has been indicative of beautiful weather for the past few days. We all came prepared for the monsoon season/Ice Age and have been pleasantly surprised to enjoy jeans/t-shirt weather thus far. Yesterday, Mike and I took a wee jaunt to the longest Belfast peace wall, which separates the nationalist Springfield Road and the unionist Shankhill Road. Clearly this peace wall attracts visitors/tourists from all over and while I was first reluctant to whip our my camera lest it betray my foreigner status, I quickly relented. As we moved down the mile-long wall, Mike and I wondered how much of the amazingly colorful graffiti was done by people who live in the area. Although we can't say for sure, I would like to believe that most of it is.

Here are some of my favorites:

Now those are tourists... =)

This doggy is very small compared to the dogs we've seen around Belfast -- some of them are huge, especially considering that most yards are quite small.

(Mike is capturing a note scribbled on the wall.) I'm wary of the notes that talk about bringing peace to Belfast. There are a lot of people here who have been working for years to promote and sustain a peace that is still quite tenuous, but comes from within Belfast. Peace is a struggle, something each person has to work towards on a daily basis. Great work has been done and people are beginning to talk to each other. Many of our community partners facilitate conversations between Loyalist and Republican ex-paramilitaries -- people who literally used to kill each other. There is hope.

But above all these colorful murals is a 30-foot high wall -- a reminder that Belfast still remains a city divided and not at peace. The director of Healing Through Remembering reminded us yesterday that ignoring the past is not the way to heal. HTR firmly believes that forgetting can be as detrimental to the healing process as it is difficult.

On Monday, we begin work. But much of our work has already begun -- we have started to understand (albeit in small ways) what challenges still face the communities in Belfast.

Touring West Belfast: Sectarian Murals

In a few hours, I might be enjoying (surviving) my first authentic Guinness, but first I will mention some highlights of my first few days in Belfast. For the past two days, our DukeEngage group has been learning about the history of the Troubles from those who witnessed and experienced the violence over the past 30-40 years. Gordon Gillespie is the man who led our first tour of West Belfast, which highlighted areas of significant conflict and the renowned murals (both Loyalist and Republican; brief terminology lesson to follow).

An example of a Republican mural on Whiterock Rd. (a Catholic "estate," or neighborhood):

...And this is a Loyalist mural on Albertbridge Road (one of the Protestant areas of W. Belfast):

(photo by Mike Fritz)

Because the terminology is a wee bit confusing at first, I will explain/define a few terms to the best of my knowledge.

• Republican and Loyalist are terms used exclusively in the context of paramilitary groups, who were active during the years of the Troubles. Most of these paramilitary organizations decommisioned after the peace aggreement was signed in 1998 (Good Friday Agreement), but some only recently handed over their arms -- even within the past year. Bascially, you only use Republican/Loyalist in relation to those who support armed struggle as a means to their end.


• Nationalist and Unionist are related to political agendas/persuasions. Nationalists tend to support the complete independence of the state of Ireland from the United Kingdom (including Northern Ireland), while Unionists want N. Ireland to remain a part of the UK and separate from the Republic of Ireland.

Hmm...I set out to describe the past two days in Belfast and managed only to cover approximately 3 hours. Thus, I will be posting frequently over the weekend to update you more... Expect many more photos!

Volcanoes, Shoes, & other Inconveniences

In three days, I will leave for Belfast from the Tom Bradley International Terminal of LAX. I have so much to do before then -- plus, the Newark-Belfast leg of our journey could be complicated by ash clouds from the eruption of Iceland's volcano, Eyjafjallajokull. Its effects on European air travel have proven to be just as intense as this volcano's name. However, assuming that we can make it out of the country on Tuesday, I need to get down to business: packing.

With the contents of 3 full suitcases dumped on my living room floor, I quickly became overwhelmed by the task at hand. Seriously, how can I fit everything that I need (or could at some point need) for the next 2 months into 1 checked item? Let's be real -- my rain boots have already usurped about one-quarter of the allotted space. Interestingly, Belfast natives apparently don't wear rain boots too often, which I find strange and slightly impractical considering it rains there approximately 213 days/year. Well, my feet will be dry and I won't be obscenely conspicuous because I opted for my dark blue ones over the hot pink with polka dots. I doubt the decision to include my rain boots only when I look at how little room it leaves for clothes...

In all honesty, the pressure of packing has been considerably alleviated by two main forces:

1) The nature of our DukeEngage program. None of our community partners in Belfast will be expecting us to wear business casual to work -- jeans are the standard dress and a comparatively simple wardrobe will suffice for the summer. When you don't have the expectation of looking cute everyday, it becomes infinitely easier to leave lots of things at home. It's actually kind of liberating.

2) My mama. She's the most practical & efficient packer I know. Besides remembering all the essential things (yes, I usually forget a toothbrush wherever I go), she also is very willing to tell me when I'm going a little overboard. I think we're setting the shoe limit at 4 -- somewhere near the upper limit for her, but lower limit for me.

It's been said that people resemble tea bags, in that their true colors show when they are put in hot water. Though for most it isn't comparable to being steeped in boiling water, packing certainly reveals truths about a person. After having moved from home to Tufts and then from Tufts to Duke, I still cannot claim any advanced/superior packing skills. But each time I did leave some things behind, in dorm rooms, hallways, and trash cans. And I'm pretty sure I've never once thought to myself, Where in the world did I put ___? In the end, there are very few material things that are uniquely necessary to existence -- the most important we carry inside. And the rest, we acquire and use as we go.

My mom always has me make "priority piles" before I start packing my bag, which basically boil down to this: need, want, & don't need. To a certain extent, this compelling framework guides our lives. We ask ourselves from time to time, even when we aren't packing: What is high-priority? And what can I bear to leave behind?

A Long Time Coming (Back)

Remember those times when you've gone on Facebook, hoping to see a little red box that announces you have 3...5...17 new notifications, and an hour later you are flipping through pictures of a 30-year-old guy living in Guatemala because he just wrote on the wall of someone who was in one picture of your cousin's wedding album? Don't lie -- this situation is all too familiar, particularly to us Millenials (yes, I discovered today that's actually a coined term). Minutes and sometimes hours pass in a partially-conscious blur. Glued to your TV at 1:15am, you realize your 10-minute break turned into a 3-hour one. Pulling up to a familiar hangout in your hometown, you can't actually recall driving there and you hope no traffic laws were unwittingly broken in the process.

Tempus fugit...

I am sitting on my (sister's) bed at home in California, contemplating the reality that time really can escape. Looking at my archive, you'll see that my last blog post was dated November 2009, but don't throw up your hands in submission to the inevitable demise of another forgotten blog! The truth, which is written eloquently by Andy in the Shawshank Redemption, is that "no good thing ever dies." Although it has gone without updates for many months, this blog was never far from my mind. As I have told some of you, I consciously abstained lest this blog become too much like a journal, particularly during the difficult few months after breaking my foot. Admittedly, inertia took hold at some point and, well, here we are 6 months later.

For the next couple of months, this blog will mostly be dedicated to anything/everything relating to my 2-month summer of service in Belfast, Northern Ireland through the DukeEngage program. More details to follow...very soon!

Practicing Confidence

During the past week, we had an amazing dance company in residency at Duke, called Urban Bush Women. If you ever have the chance to see them perform, I highly recommend it. What was even more incredible than the performance on Thursday night, was attending an hour-long discussion with the founder and artistic director Jawole Willa Jo Zollar. After telling us about her own story and the emergence of this company, she then posed us with a challenge. Actually, an opportunity - to tell our own stories. To create a short rhyme/rap/poem that affirms our unique identity - to confidently claim ourselves. Now, I don't know if anyone has ever asked you to sum up who you are on paper, but it was quite daunting at first.

I sat for several minutes, unsure of exactly where to begin. But once I stopped searching for the right adjectives and labels, I was able to compose a piece of something that exemplifies a lot of what makes me me. Jawole reminded us that confidence does not come naturally, but rather it must be practiced. She gave us the chance to begin rehearsing. This is a declaration, an identification with the self that is always there, but seldom voiced.

Always on the go,

my mama said,

keep right on moving,

until I crash in bed.

What she said back then,

it still is right,

try and do everything,

'til I stop at night.

A mover, a shaker,

always got big plans,

Dreaming, doing, can't stand

when something is out of my hands.

I love my friends,

more than anything,

Drop it all anytime,

Give them everything.

I've got a lot to try,

Even more to be,

Can't stop me now,
Because this is me.

The Road Not Taken

((An Afternoon in the Duke Gardens))

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

~Robert Frost