And while I pumped out all of my energy from the day, a memory resounded through my mind. A few years ago I was in the midst of another dark night lit by only the moon. I remember this moment very vividly – not only for the emotional significance, but for the astonishingly sharp visual that seemed to pair with it. It was the middle of the night when I was en route to New Zealand. In leaving LA, I was leaving behind a host of problems, my life was essentially in wreckage, and I was holding it all together with McGiver-style bubble gum and tape. Little did I know that when I landed in New Zealand I would promptly be deconstructed and begin the process of slowly piecing my life back  together. That moment on the plane was probably one of the darkest, more anxiety ridden nights of my life.

As I flew through the dark night, thousands of feet in the air, the darkness was piercing black. But the moon was soft white, illuminating the ocean as a blanket of sparking diamonds. The night was so clear that even from my height, I could make out the tiniest islands down there in the in the massive blue, and I could see the white caps of waves washing over beaches. It was honestly one of the most beautiful sites I have seen in my life. I remember specifically with tears in my eyes I whispered under my breath, “God I don’t know where you are, and I am scared sh*tless, but here I am.”

Running along the bay tonight, it was the first time I had recalled this memory in years. And yet, tonight was a night much like the one I had on Air New Zealand almost 3 years ago. The night was black. Purple. Blue. The bay was black, and yet the moon shone it’s warm light down on the water, making little diamonds sparkle down the current. And all of the homes and cars on the other side of the bay all shone like little cafe lights in a far off place.

I had to smile. I can’t help but feel like in life we always come full circle. Here I am again, lost and a mess. This time not in my identity, but rather in my career, passion and profession. I’ve just decided to pursue freelance writing, and I can’t lie; I feel like I have given up safety to chase ghosts. Here I am standing in the midst of the moon light whispering, “God I don’t know where you are, and I am scared sh*tless, but here I am.”

But here is the cool thing: I’m not scared the way I was before. The night can be a very terrifying place if you let it be. The first time in my walk through the dark night, I remember being gut wrentchingly anxious, scared, unsure and looking at all of the long shadows and unknown sounds like they were going to over take me. This time, I feel like I have have come to love the dark night. The air is cooler. The colors are astounding. the lights seem to sparkle in a way that captures my heart. And you know, moon shadows are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The idea that we can play with our shadows in the darkness of night is a notion beyond my own mind.

This time around I realize I have learned to relax in the darkness, to enjoy the night. I know last time I saw this vision, it marked the beginning of the most adventurous, beautiful, terrible, growing, stretching, rewarding journey I had been on in my life. This time I have slowed the anxiety and I can see the signs for what they are. And I can only hope that I am standing on the brink of something half as great as the story I embarked on en route to New Zealand.

Let Love Rule.

…..Right,  But How Do We Do That?

Monday night Hot Nerdy Blond and I drove up to Hollywood to grab dinner with a best friend of mine who lives out of state. A friend recommended the Saddle Ranch Chop House in Hollywood – which ended up being one of the funnest venues I have been to in a long time. Karaoke, bull riding, great food, and waiters that literally go above and beyond. Yet, I digress. What struck me about Monday night was that at one point in the evening, I looked out the window, and Sunset Blvd. was completely filled with people. Protesters, carrying signs, banging drums, chanting, full marching bands – all showing their disapproval for the recent Supreme Court ruling regarding Prop 8. Signs reading, “LET LOVE RULE” and “I DO.” or messages expressing how gay individuals had the right to get married too. Or at least be in love to. Or something to that effect (I’m sorry, I’m not the most politically correct person on this subject).

What stood out to me more than any one thing was not the subject of homosexuality, or even sexuality at all. It was just an overwhelming sense of sadness. I get it that marriage is supposed to be sacred, and that the Bible does have a lot to say on the matter. I also get it that homosexuals are people too. And they do fall deeply in love too. So…I think I love the idea of letting love rule. I love love. It’s amazing to be in love. And homosexuals shouldn’t be denied any of it. But, how do we do that?  And it made me so sad. It was like something deep inside of me had to turn and question – to say – “You know what? Something isn’t right. I don’t know what the right answer is. I don’t know how God would show love in this situation. I don’t know what the balance of “God’s Rules” vs. “God’s love and Grace” is. But I do know that this breaks my heart.”

Watching the people flooding through the street was one of the most impacting things I have seen in a long time. And as conflicted as I can feel on the matter sometimes, I couldn’t help but want to cheer them on. Cheer them into fighting against the sadness.

3 Billion Dollars. And We’re All About to be Screwed.

I like to listen to NPR in the car. Well, sometimes I don’t really like it, but I am always amazing at how much information is on there. Things that I had never been aware of – countries in desperate shapes of war. Journalist and activist that are in jail or martyred for their works of heroism. Information about our economy and president that I’d never hear on the news. It’s like a vat, a wealth of tragic information.

Yesterday they were talking about our dear old Governator, and his unbearable task of balancing our budget. The thing that I don’t understand is how we are one of the wealthiest states in the Union, and yet we can’t figure out our budget. We all voted to not raise taxes, and now in our Governor’s words, the only things we have left ourselves to is “Cuts, cuts and more cuts.”

An interview with CalWorks announced that the new budget cuts the entire program completely. This is a group that gives measly little checks to low income families to help ensure that they can stay in housing. A mother and 3 children will get approximately $500 a month – meaning that she and her kids are renting a ROOM, not an apartment – just a room.

With the new cut to the program, it is guessed that 154,000 families in Los Angeles County alone might face life on the streets. Most of these families have small children.

And to make matters worse, most of these children are already on MediCaid, a program designed to help low income families secure health care – a program that is also getting significantly cut down. Meaning that most of the children that might lose their homes could also lose their health care coverage.

Combine that with the idea that LA Unified School District just made significant cuts to the budget, increasing class sizes and changing resources within their school programs.

Does this not seem like the perfect storm for low income families in LA? No housing, no health care, no schools?

Now again, I’m not a politician, and I’m not a financial person. I have no clue how to fix this mess Californians have found ourselves in.  I don’t know if more government aid is the way to create great societies, or rather to encourage a sense of independence and self reliance. But I can tell you this – it breaks my heart. I can’t stand to think about those disenfranchised families who might be about to fall through the cracks of society. It just makes me shake my head and think, “What a Sad World We Have.”

Layoffs, Layoffs, and More Layoffs

For those of you who don’t follow me closely – my mom was given her pink slip earlier this spring. I’m still looking for work. Last week, my dad found out that after 27 years with his IT Company, he was also let go. Oh, and have I mentioned that my older brother was also laid off?  Funny thing is, out of the 6  people in my immediate family, the only jobs that we have right now are cashiers jobs at retail stores. Kinda fun huh?

The part for me where the world gets sad, is that today my roommate was laid off. I remember being where she is now, feeling like she is just in shock, now knowing what way to go next.

Now, with all of these career suspensions or transitions, it’s not that I don’t think that these people aren’t capable, or that they won’t find something – it’s just that it strikes me as being so sad. Sad to watch them struggle, sad to see them scared, sad to watch them asking big questions about the directions they will take their lives, sad that they have to take measures to ensure that they will be ok.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

I have no miraculous conclusion. I’m sure I can insert some “Full House” ending about how God will show up on a white horse and save the day, where everything will be set right before the commercial break. And I do believe that God is big enough to do that. But I don’t think this is all a God-Issue. I think it’s more of a realization of the kinds of sorrows that comprise our world. Injustice, poverty, transition, anxiety, economic turmoil, social transitions…It can almost be overwhelming to think of it all at the same time. Like I’ve continually said, I have no awe-inspiring solutions. I’m not sure how to better our world. I’m not sure how to make a impact for the better. But I can tell you that at one point this week, I flopped on my couch and cried. Hot tears for the homosexuals who can’t get married, even if the Bible doesn’t think it’s ok – hot tears for the children who might not get homes or health care, hot tears for the Governor and the people in Sacramento who are trying to make sense out of our financial disasters. Hot tears for all of those who are lost and scared and trying to navigate their way through career transition.

Call me Debbie-Downer. Call me a softy. Maybe it makes me a bleeding-heart non-activist (because I’m not really doing anything else other than crying).  But this is what I saw and noticed this week – as bleak and sad as it is.