tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19437634312939097702024-03-14T03:36:17.641-05:00NJW: no journey wastedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger425125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-77890559140396193452016-12-28T11:35:00.000-06:002016-12-28T12:03:31.006-06:00Adventures in 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dear Friends and Family,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It has been unusually, unacceptably too long since I've written to you. But since progress is all about the baby steps, sitting down to this blank page is already a win. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2016 has been a wild ride. And while it is not the year in which I've explored the<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>most new cities,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>it is the year that I've traveled most often. Google Calendar tells me I was on 34 flights. No cancellations and no crashes! That's already something to be thankful for. I had the opportunity to explore at least 6 new cities / islands: Munich, Divonne (France), Rome, the island of Sardinia (Italy), Copenhagen, and the island of Fuerteventura (Canary Islands). </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>In a dream. </i>Ajuy, Fuerteventura, Canary Islands</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Lobos, Canary Islands</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Betancouria, original capital of Fuerteventura, Canary Islands</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Helsinki wins again this year for the most frequented destination.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And why Helsinki, you might ask? In addition to hosting some of the most incredible people and most interesting meteorological patterns, Helsinki remains home to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://www.competencemapsolutions.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Competence Map Solutions</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, the financial technology company I co.founded back in 2013. We are super pumped with our growth this year. Since almost everything about who we work with and under what conditions is confidential, all I can say is that we are excited to be working with amazing, like-minded clients and partners and we are eagerly looking forward to the future.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Helsinki's first snow of the season caught my wardrobe by surprise</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A big personal milestone came and went in October of this year. I defended the research plan for my dissertation during the Candidacy Exam, which officially earns me the title of Doctoral Candidate. (I honestly didn't know about that official title stuff during my first year, so I may have been an unlikely impostor with my misleading LinkedIn title for a number of months.)</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I promised Maven, my PhD plant, that she would get a new pot when I passed my candidacy exam. The name Maven means "seeker of knowledge" -- watching her shoots and sprouts grow reminds me that the whole point of the PhD process is growth, not perfection :)</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When not at my desk growing alongside Maven, I've been out exploring Switzerland with great friends, visitors, and FAMILY! My sister Toreah, one of the greatest joys of my life, spent the summer with me in my studio in "sweet Morges", as she calls my little lakeside town. We traveled a ton together (Barcelona, Rome, Zurich, Munich, Helsinki, the French Jura region) and were so blessed to get to know each other for the first time as adults, since I left home when she was 9. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From Southern Oregon's tulip gardens to gardens full of Rome's time traveling treasures, we're still just the same little women out seeking adventures...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Gaudi's backyard park, Barcelona</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona, just before sunset. We fell in love with Gaudi and his creations!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waking up to pancakes and fresh blueberries for breakfast with our friend Suvi at her family's mökki (cabin) in Finland</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Summer picnic with our cousin Maya on Helsinki's Seurasaari island</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Many other notable visitors passed through sweet Morges this summer... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of my dearest friends, Maria, stayed a week and we had all sorts of adventures. It had been almost exactly a year since we had splurged on a girl's weekend in Paris: So much had changed in our lives, but, as with the best of friends, we picked up exactly where we left off. Maria has hosted me almost every single time I've come to Helsinki -- what precious time and sweet memories from every season!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hiking in my "neighborhood" with Maria</i><br />
<i>"Les Terraces de Lavaux" are a UNESCO World Heritage Site.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hadn't seen Joe since our days as interns at the State Department in Russia (2011). He arrived just in time for the Montreux Jazz Festival and came bearing Tanzanian coffee, which he hand-carried all the way here. How fun it is to catch up with the adventures of fellow nomads from a past "life", our conversations brought up so many memories of the sights and sounds we experienced and extraordinary people we met...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And for summer's grand finale, my parents surprised themselves (and me!) by grabbing last-minute flights to Geneva to spend a week here in Switzerland celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. I got be an "only child" again for one of the rare times in the past 25 years, and we had so much fun exploring all together. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dad and Mom at Rochers de Nayes</i></td></tr>
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<i></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One of the biggest treats this year was not just one, but TWO trips back to the US to visit family. I have to credit that largely to the arrival of Aria Joy, the little princess who made me an aunt! Jared and Katie are delivering round 2 in summer 2017... Can't wait to meet their manchild who is being creatively named after three of his parents' favorite theologians. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aria Joy Foy . 10 months</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foy Family Thanksgiving in Tahoe.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Here are some themes around which I've been growing and learning this year...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b> Intuition.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> Not everything can or should be analyzed using logic. I'm learning to remember how important my intuition is; remembering to acknowledge gut feelings. There are important ways to train your intuition, which you might feel is the same as your conscience. The people and information you allow to influence you is key. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. <b>The coolest people.</b> I've spent a lot of time in a lot of places, discovering all sorts of people, personalities, perspectives. I don't think I consciously took note of the fact that my parents and siblings are some of the "coolest" people I've ever met. I'm totally in awe of them all -- their talents, their aspirations, how mentally and socially sound they are in a world where so often things seem a bit off...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. <b>New superpower: I can distinguish the taste of Evian water from all others.</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span> It's true. Evian, France is just across the lake from Morges, and their springs seem to be as active as ever. Evian isn't an uppety brand in Switzerland (you pay 4 times more for Voss, the slick Norwegian brand ... because it's always greener on the other side, right?) However, I know Swiss people who won't drink anything other than Evian. </span></div>
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Coming in 2017</h2>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">January</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After working for over a year as part of a team creating a Massive Open Online Course (MOOC) called<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Launching New Ventures: Entrepreneurship and Strategy for Technology-Driven Startups</b>, the course is now in its second season, now available in<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://go.epfl.ch/launch" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">English</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://go.epfl.ch/launch-c" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mandarin</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://go.epfl.ch/launch-f" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">French</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. If you've been playing with some business ideas, it's a great opportunity to equip yourself (for FREE) with an overview of what it takes to get a business off the ground, and some key tools to help you launch your own. The winners of our business concept proposal competition will be announced at the end of January.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">February</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Our Launching New Ventures MOOC has been integrated into the curriculum of FAST, a fast-track training program created to address the gap between the millions of African graduates (holding at least a bachelor degree) who are unemployed -- and it's about 35% of them -- while there are 2.5 million engineering and technician positions to be filled across the continent. When a passionate Nigerian entrepreneur approached EPFL, wanting to pair our accredited online courses with local internships and a job placement programme, EPFL's MOOCs4Africa division partnered with startup <a href="http://edacy.com/" target="_blank">Edacy</a> (think "education advocacy") to develop the curriculum and implement the programme. The first pilot has started, and FAST has asked me to organize a three-day Entrepreneurship & Software Development Prototyping Bootcamp in Dakar, Senegal for participants who get through the first stage. Photos and stories coming after the event in Feb 2017! </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Summer</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It's time to get serious about collecting some data for my dissertation. I'm headed off to Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, China (+ possibly some neighboring countries) to interview technology firm founders. Talking to people about their entrepreneurial dreams and bringing their ideas to life is exhilarating, but pair that with Singaporean street food (</span><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/aug/04/michelin-star-for-singapore-noodle-stall-where-lunch-is-half-the-price-of-a-big-mac" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">one of the hawker stalls even has a Michelin star</span></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">) and hanging gardens, and the adventures just waiting to be had in Shenzhen, "China's Silicon Valley" ... and this promises to be an unforgettable summer.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT15Bij1ri_f7Q5dbNmJPvuGXlwLcK6Ibu5dUc3Agh-qvlxN6W1uAS0SJlVsOv6H1h2gngeVpy8H0Z0yojf4W4HHznuoA3GDcbnz_7K6PX-QSFmokcNL6XSUC-OcGKq9OpvTmFAU9Aakk/s1600/Impressive-skywalks-in-the-Cloud-Forest-Green-House-at-Marina-Bay-Gardens-in-Singapore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT15Bij1ri_f7Q5dbNmJPvuGXlwLcK6Ibu5dUc3Agh-qvlxN6W1uAS0SJlVsOv6H1h2gngeVpy8H0Z0yojf4W4HHznuoA3GDcbnz_7K6PX-QSFmokcNL6XSUC-OcGKq9OpvTmFAU9Aakk/s640/Impressive-skywalks-in-the-Cloud-Forest-Green-House-at-Marina-Bay-Gardens-in-Singapore.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">photo via Milouket.tv</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until next time!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-10934833234410132832016-09-22T09:38:00.000-05:002016-09-22T09:38:18.524-05:00Developing Expertise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
About 8-ish years ago I was in a car somewhere, apparently in an English-speaking country, listening to the radio, when the broadcaster asked, "What's the difference between experts and the rest of us?" His interlocutor thought for a minute and replied, <div>
"The thing about experts isn't necessarily that they know that much more than the rest of us... It's about <i>how they structure their knowledge.</i>"</div>
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I remember it hitting me like a revelation. It felt liberating, in a way, to know that if I ever wanted to become an expert in something, I wouldn't have to know every last thing there is to know about the field. But I would need to figure out how what I do know fits together. Expertise felt accessible. I started to think of developing expertise as detective work.</div>
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***</div>
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Yesterday, as I sat in the first lecture of the bachelor Entrepreneurship course I'm assistant teaching this semester, I was reminded again of that broadcast while listening to my PhD supervisor, Prof. Dr. Marc Gruber, as he introduced the field of entrepreneurship to 40 wide-eyed third year students. Marc definitely knows much much much more than most others about this field, but not only that. What's really special is the way he sees connections and can communicate both simplifying overviews as well as nuanced details to the person or class <i>en face</i>. </div>
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I left thinking, "Wow, I'm glad he was here, I could have never given such a lecture today." But I also realized, looking back over my research notes, that one day I might. He is training me to think the same way. </div>
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I'm going to defend my three-year research plan in a few weeks, and as I was writing up the document, I recall Marc telling me that a key part of this exam is being able to show the professors on my committee that I'm able to discuss the phenomena I'm investigating on multiple levels. I must be able to situate my research in the vast space of the social sciences, the higher-level discussions taking place in management in particular, and then be able to comment specifically on how the studies I propose are moving forward the conversation around some specific theories. Of course the chosen methods and execution plan need to make sense as well, in light of the larger context. </div>
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"Give a broad overview, but also be able to zoom in. That's the mark of an expert," he said.</div>
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It's much harder than it sounds, and my pursuit of being able to place my research within the larger field of management led me on some wild-goose-chases which ultimately led to a broader perspective, a lot of hours reading theory I may or may not use later, and a lot of options for contextualising and positioning my dissertation. </div>
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I discovered that it's both fun and challenging to tell the story on multiple levels. There are just so many ways to go about it and there's no one right answer. You're the author. It's about the story you want to tell. Pick an interesting one. And if you want to publish it, make sure it's an angle that is interesting (or could be made interesting) to many others beside yourself. </div>
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***</div>
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Will I one day wake up and think, "Now I'm an expert" ? Probably not. But hopefully I'll find some interesting things to contribute along the way. I think of developing expertise as more of a lifelong pursuit than a title to attain, of every new day as an opportunity to add to the bank of knowledge and experience. For now I'll content myself with being awed by real experts who are offering some super fascinating new perspectives. (Not all experts do. But I'll share as I come across more that wow me.)</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4Lausanne, Switzerland46.5196535 6.63227340000003146.432297999999996 6.470911900000031 46.607009 6.7936349000000309tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-27167772686630296122015-12-02T05:02:00.000-06:002015-12-02T05:02:19.280-06:00Being, and the road to Becoming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I spend much of my time reading, getting deeper into my PhD work which revolves around the concept of <b>identity</b>, I feel like I'm re-considering many ideas that feel vaguely familiar, as if at one time I was convinced of their truth based on pure intuition. A pretty amazing thing about studying identity is that at every turn of a page you're forced to reconsider the very essence of yourself, how you understand yourself, how you see yourself in relation to the world around you, and how you are evolving.<br />
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It turns out that (social) identity is somewhat malleable: it can change and fluctuate over time, it is influenced by the social environment we are born into -- a social environment whose philosophies and social practices have been mutually reinforcing for centuries. I'm tempted to talk about different<i> social universes, </i>because it seems that most people never break out of the one they're born into. Having traveled extensively for a decade, I'm only now coming to understand the true magnitude of social structures and their implications for our everyday life. Richard E. Nisbett's <i><a href="http://www.worldcat.org/oclc/50479308">The Geography of Thought</a></i> is currently blowing my mind...<br />
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<i>The Western-style self is virtually a figment of the imagination to the East Asian. As philosopher Hu Shih writes, "In the Confucian human-centered philosophy man cannot exist alone; all action must be in the form of interaction between man and man." The person always exists within settings -- in particular situations where there are particular people with whom one has relationships of a particular kind. -- and the notion that there can be attributes or actions that are not conditioned on social circumstances is foreign to the Asian mentality. </i><br />
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<i>... To the Westerner, it makes sense to speak of a person as having attributes that are independent of circumstances or particular personal relations. This self -- this bounded, impermeable free agent -- can move from group to group and setting to setting without significant alteration. But for the Easterner (and for many other peoples to one degree or another), the person is connected, fluid, and conditional. As philosopher Donald Munro put it, East Asians understand themselves "in terms of their relation to the whole, such as the family, society..." ... purely independent behavior is usually not possible or really even desirable. </i><br />
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Sometimes this identity we have, our deepest understanding of ourselves, falls prey to false promises. We decide who we want to become, and we look around for tools that will help us in the "becoming" process. Those tools and roads to becoming aren't always healthy, and many are dead ends. The idea that the route to success is primarily and invariably via "hustling" is one of those false promises. We might think that maintaining momentum, shunning stillness, and keeping busy at all costs is a sure way to get more stuff done and faster. But it's a lie. A constant, overarching determination to "hustle" will put you on the road to burnout.<br />
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I've learned one major lesson this year. It's been a year of no blogging. It's been a year of experimentation. A year of recovering my short-term memory. A year of rebuilding my immune system. A year of arriving to work at 8, coming home at 6, rarely working nights and weekends, and learning that this is normal and healthy, and that I am not a slacker. It's been a year of rest. A year of rebalancing. <br />
<br />
<b>I learned that there is a time to hustle and a time to take things slower. I learned that more activity does not necessarily mean more productivity. </b><br />
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This excerpt from a <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tyler-ward/theres-nothing-admirable-_b_8622802.html">recent Huffington post piece</a> is brutal and honest.<br />
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Hustling misplaces identity.</h3>
<br /><i>Hustling makes us feel important. It makes us feel like the world needs us -- like somehow we are more valuable or valid when busy. Perhaps that's why we wear it like a badge and quickly resort to it when people ask how life is. We hustle to subconsciously feel valuable to the world around us.<br /><br />This glorification of "the hustle" comes from the antiquated belief that we are defined by what we do -- and therefore the more we do, the better, more worthy, more respectable, more validated human we are.<br /><br />Sadly, this points to an ignorance of our inherent value--in that regardless of our performance in life, we are important, loved and valuable. This same ignorance typically makes us too uncomfortable with ourselves or the reality of our lives to do anything other than stay occupied hustling.<br /><br />Unfortunately for the hustlers, there's more to life than how many hours we invest into our jobs. And increasingly, your neighbors and your relatives and your offspring are wondering why you're spending so much time trying to prove yourself and so little time being yourself.</i><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; direction: ltr; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 15px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility; vertical-align: baseline;">
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For me, <u>being myself</u> rather than <i>proving </i>myself looks like making Christmas cookies for neighbors next weekend rather than trying to craft a glorious year-end newsletter. It looks like being able to talk about work-in-progress without being afraid that my ideas aren't good enough, that I'm not good enough.</div>
One of my cousins, a fellow nomad who always seems to be travelling a parallel intellectual journey, is currently enrolled in a 10-month counseling training program in San Francisco. This week he wrote about the freedom we can find in questioning our identity.<br /><br /><i>Having models for how, who, and what we are can both serve and limit us. Fortunately, once we realize that we perpetuate the existence of these constructs in our lives through cooperation, we also recognize our ability to change them if needed.<br /><br />It’s discombobulating not knowing how, who, or what I am. But it’s also exhilarating to realize that I still exist even apart from the many associations I've hung my reality on. Maybe I am much more than the answers I come up with to these questions.<br /><br />If I don’t cling to the who I think I am, then I can be empty – in this emptiness, there’s a lot of mystery; maybe mystery is more beautiful than the self I have constructed.</i><div>
<br /><br />You can read the full post on <a href="http://www.ramblewithaplan.com/?utm_source=Rambles+and+Writings&utm_campaign=4bef51ce97-NEW+TEMPLATE&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_8ec21d750f-4bef51ce97-74057681#blog">his blog</a>.<br /><br /><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; font-stretch: normal; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility; vertical-align: baseline;">
As the year 2015 draws to a close, we might consider who we want to be and how we want to change in the year to come. Hopefully this will be followed by some experimentation over the next few months to test what thought processes, actions and habits are useful vehicles on the road to our "becoming". </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-69849467063183197582015-02-10T15:45:00.000-06:002015-02-10T15:46:10.583-06:003 Formidable Letters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I don't recall if I've yet shared here on NJW my new 4-year plan. It includes the letters: P, H, and D. In that order. As I prep this evening for an upcoming retreat in which I should present a few possible research questions, the magnitude of this decision is looming overhead. <br />
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Four years is a long time to spend on a project. Okay, so if I'm going to do this whole PhD thing, I'm going to do it right. Basically, I have huge expectations. You might call me naive, insane. But I'm not looking for a passable research question that will earn me a title so I can, I don't know, earn a higher salary or something.<br />
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I'm looking for a real game changer. A big question. I want to do something that changes the way we see some part of the world. Something that has potential to be applied in a way that yields real impact for real people. </h3>
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So..<br />
<img src="file:///C:/Users/Siri/AppData/Local/Temp/enhtmlclip/entodo_unchecked.png" />Exploration and development of scientific methods: yes.<br />
<img src="file:///C:/Users/Siri/AppData/Local/Temp/enhtmlclip/entodo_unchecked.png" />Theoretical contribution: yes.<br />
<img src="file:///C:/Users/Siri/AppData/Local/Temp/enhtmlclip/entodo_unchecked.png" />Become an expert in a field: yes.<br />
<img src="file:///C:/Users/Siri/AppData/Local/Temp/enhtmlclip/entodo_unchecked.png" />But I'm adding another criteria: do something really big. That's just how I roll.<br />
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But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how I ended up here in the first place. A while back I explained it pretty well to my friend <a href="http://www.georgescoville.com/about-george/">George</a>:<br />
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By some strange occurrence I happened to have an abstract written out of my bachelor thesis accepted to "the Mecca of academic entrepreneurship conferences" (as one Finnish professor called it), which I presented at this summer. I had such a good time, met tons of people, and -- fresh out of my first-ever quantitative research methods course -- didn't hesitate to critique other people's research design in the ear of whomever had the misfortune of sitting next to me. </div>
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One of those misfortunate folk turned out to be a lively German guy. We got to chatting, discovered we had similar research interests, he was surprised I hadn't done my PhD yet and proceeded to become the 7th or 8th person to suggest I do my doctoral research in his program. Having received so many invitations that weekend to check out different programs (literally across the globe), I began to doubt my ability to properly evaluate the different programs, so in the spirit of the moment I told him, "Ok, why don't we sit down for a lunch this afternoon. You can pitch your program to me and try to convince me to come." </div>
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"Okay - then you have to pitch yourself," he replied. It was a deal. We had a good discussion and I had also become good friends with <a href="http://www.petervogel.org/">one of his former postdocs</a>, so I was feeling good about the ambiance. It was only while telling this story to someone later that night that I found out this friendly German is the Associate Editor of the Academy of Management Journal ... pretty much the most prestigious empirical research management journal out there. </div>
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So the week went by, I mostly goofed around with their group, talked research over beers, met some legends as well as other young scholars, and Marc (the German), kept bugging me to send him my CV. I finally did, and just hours later he invited me to come present my research in Lausanne. I guessed that it would be some precursor to me eventually maybe submitting an application to their program ... I didn't expect to have a job offer at lunchtime after my presentation! That was super exciting. </div>
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I was due to graduate from <a href="https://into.aalto.fi/display/enstrat/Homepage">Aalto</a> in May 2015, but Marc wanted me to start at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology (<span class="il"><a href="http://entc.epfl.ch/">EPFL</a>)</span> in February 2015, so he looped me into one of their ongoing projects and said I could design and write my master thesis out of that... Which led to my 'working vacation' last autumn, bouncing around the lovely Swiss countryside for three weeks to meet with all sorts of entrepreneurs. But then the pressure was on: I had to analyse the data, write, and submit my thesis in two months! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Flatlands around Malvilliers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_xs5OGNtUEMEYcEvWWSJxfcaANYi9LdehOcjy7BTKOv60QNO7yORkEY5VOjIzU-adc15qw8CGco2e4g36cPSsKTQ43ItKNt2AOLu6UL-2Wt7L17seHT2JQpgwVDSNJ8cdoUOEncQGT8/s1600/P1180687.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_xs5OGNtUEMEYcEvWWSJxfcaANYi9LdehOcjy7BTKOv60QNO7yORkEY5VOjIzU-adc15qw8CGco2e4g36cPSsKTQ43ItKNt2AOLu6UL-2Wt7L17seHT2JQpgwVDSNJ8cdoUOEncQGT8/s1600/P1180687.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Looking south from up above Neuchâtel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlWUiCHDuW0B-FBb2D3IF9CMLywZN5m0hoBch_1ePkdvLYB9nLOmc33dpUJNc8kOjDu-US8pjQ4xqQApb8_lEdxYcOqiRjWUWXl7PEcn_Kx3kw7hdl6f4fQpr9J_xoc0c517D6MKk63g/s1600/P1180712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdlWUiCHDuW0B-FBb2D3IF9CMLywZN5m0hoBch_1ePkdvLYB9nLOmc33dpUJNc8kOjDu-US8pjQ4xqQApb8_lEdxYcOqiRjWUWXl7PEcn_Kx3kw7hdl6f4fQpr9J_xoc0c517D6MKk63g/s1600/P1180712.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The hills really were alive with the sound of music!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmQbitf5xG6p_JxC4gUfFCeHCFA2ZN4qjZ-6XisD6AVVq7w97Q1JiVurC9Puxon00zt6MKDdVNQHwBQ1-gjhRXk2JuWvqU5lrM68HKnfbRdnfpX70zsWpWoJql2uffQvPQTG0CCyoENg/s1600/P1180741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmQbitf5xG6p_JxC4gUfFCeHCFA2ZN4qjZ-6XisD6AVVq7w97Q1JiVurC9Puxon00zt6MKDdVNQHwBQ1-gjhRXk2JuWvqU5lrM68HKnfbRdnfpX70zsWpWoJql2uffQvPQTG0CCyoENg/s1600/P1180741.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I call this the Grand Swiss Canyon. In real life it's le Creux du Van</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bmfaIHKr60_yC4zOAq2EKbk5lY7DrOi4uitxQ4yWTjqI70eqBs7AneJ3KcaqQDYXS66Yv7mEIV1HCjoQ4CarOIAon0Zws3zkNuyfLt4yv3NOBdndlXvXuGXuAYZtYN-odfeRj42xdew/s1600/P1180922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1bmfaIHKr60_yC4zOAq2EKbk5lY7DrOi4uitxQ4yWTjqI70eqBs7AneJ3KcaqQDYXS66Yv7mEIV1HCjoQ4CarOIAon0Zws3zkNuyfLt4yv3NOBdndlXvXuGXuAYZtYN-odfeRj42xdew/s1600/P1180922.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">On the open road</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGg_gDAdnWlhrHjc03dBd7MLHGpX2AWWGJPI4iUbuDl83A58O-W0Yjx8NAoUHpMX3XdF4qVZb96R0Qd7u3iYFalvB3Ox1JcGx57dZOZuYPUsbf00NUSLLAq0rj2UANqM0MUpsccZsH2NY/s1600/P1180932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGg_gDAdnWlhrHjc03dBd7MLHGpX2AWWGJPI4iUbuDl83A58O-W0Yjx8NAoUHpMX3XdF4qVZb96R0Qd7u3iYFalvB3Ox1JcGx57dZOZuYPUsbf00NUSLLAq0rj2UANqM0MUpsccZsH2NY/s1600/P1180932.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">A malfunction in my GPS led me along a most incredible route.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVK98D3YkCyk_cGJ3mCanRryqdfp8Iv56QLWR13brVf7LKXPcuGZPyZifSIQsIJoca8mCvKWG-srTuYRwLYMODwXMhduSQT3v49e2gtxFFHf28pH8kKNrRkxWh9WwVbI7k-RouQ9iv38Q/s1600/P1180931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVK98D3YkCyk_cGJ3mCanRryqdfp8Iv56QLWR13brVf7LKXPcuGZPyZifSIQsIJoca8mCvKWG-srTuYRwLYMODwXMhduSQT3v49e2gtxFFHf28pH8kKNrRkxWh9WwVbI7k-RouQ9iv38Q/s1600/P1180931.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">View from my hotel in Lugano. So strange that the cheapest hotel in the region had the most amazing view! (Maybe because I had to zigzag back and forth up a mountain for 30 minutes to get there...)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BrA2dSHndrZ1RQkVYGQt5jNioS2dNIApC03nWxza-zXJaENdQEWPBG7i0fYUkp50D4gihe6xkUZz5xqFc1wPt2TIEW-vwJHs1uE_9ZeYzY-lt4uCmYagwtUCdxYfsMfDWueb1AjmZJY/s1600/snow+laden+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BrA2dSHndrZ1RQkVYGQt5jNioS2dNIApC03nWxza-zXJaENdQEWPBG7i0fYUkp50D4gihe6xkUZz5xqFc1wPt2TIEW-vwJHs1uE_9ZeYzY-lt4uCmYagwtUCdxYfsMfDWueb1AjmZJY/s1600/snow+laden+tree.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">I got off to a bit of an icy start in Switzerland last week.</td></tr>
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It definitely doesn't feel like an accident that I'm here now, with this group of amazing scholars, embarking on an exciting new journey. In fact, I'm sure that there is a bigger purpose woven into this grand project; it's a few more rather thick threads in the tapestry of a life's work and journey. When I find the right research question, I'm going to know it. I'm certain of that. Until then, the search is on! <br />
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I'd love to hear your burning questions about life, business, people, the future, entrepreneurship, and pretty much anything else you're pondering. You never know where ideas will be sparked, connections drawn. Tweet to me <a href="http://twitter.com/shiraheden">@shiraheden</a> or <a href="mailto:shiraheden@gmail.com">email me</a>. I'm looking forward to hearing from you!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Fun from the get-go! Helping out some new colleagues with a design thinking workshop for industry folk.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-62160922529226859232015-01-31T05:02:00.000-06:002015-01-31T05:02:39.218-06:00Relocating, and Other Stories from Public Transportation <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Many of my most memorable experiences did not take place at a destination. It's always the getting there, the journey, that incurs the most fun. Well, at least what I call fun. You might call it hell. It's all a matter of perspective.</div>
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The first time I visited Finland, I traveled by ferry boat from St. Petersburg, Russia to Helsinki. Having hopped off at the ferry terminal and walked just a few blocks to the Russian Embassy to renew my visa, I distinctly remember hauling my luggage back out of the consular office, down a tree-lined street, sitting down in the sun on some giant moss-covered rocks, looking out over the Baltic sea on the horizon and the Helsinki city skyline, and deciding right then and there: I'm going to live here someday. I had been there only four hours when my heart - not my rational brain - seemed to commit itself to a pursuit of residence in Finland. <div>
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That was in April 2010. I wouldn't actually move to Helsinki to start my master degree until September 2012, but when I finally arrived I wasn't all that surprised to be back. It just seemed right. I struggled financially as a student there, working and studying 16-18 hours a day for the first year and still barely making ends meet. But nevertheless I was genuinely happy. I was exactly where I dreamed of being, in an incredibly beautiful city built around forest and sea and archipelago. My school offered amazing facilities and opportunities at the low cost of <i>free</i> tuition, and my classmates were creative and inspiring. And during that first year and a half I grew more in my personal life than I had since my first international move to Belgium six years prior: amid my intense lack of resources, I learned to rely on God completely for provision and in the process grew more spiritually than I ever had before. It was in Helsinki, walking each evening along the seashore or riding a city bus across bridges connecting islands, that I found a quiet place -- not only externally but somewhere inside my own heart and mind. As I began to avail myself of those moments in solitude, I developed a habit of praying through everything that was going on in my life, laying it all out there in conversation with God. And for the first time in my life, in that quiet place my ears became attuned to God's voice, to what he was saying, doing, and teaching. I began to see my prayers answered in incredible ways, far beyond what I had requested. I thought to myself, <i>God will never take me away from Finland; this is my sanctuary. <a name='more'></a></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqGWk5tqrsnS4R3tHxe6HVTxSAjcApoHFmoYzLK_oNSIx88yPd1afwS7ogMMa5zPjM_hjoDNAsgVE-mGlgXE0I1Q66qMf57lNy2717ja3UmHeU9iUGhLithR-hYCYIq2Qz7EcdXPwS-s/s1600/P8300067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqGWk5tqrsnS4R3tHxe6HVTxSAjcApoHFmoYzLK_oNSIx88yPd1afwS7ogMMa5zPjM_hjoDNAsgVE-mGlgXE0I1Q66qMf57lNy2717ja3UmHeU9iUGhLithR-hYCYIq2Qz7EcdXPwS-s/s1600/P8300067.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Apparently I've been caught in my sanctuary, sunbathing near Finnish waters.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sunny real estate is at a premium. Must maximize sun absorption in the summertime to stock up on Vitamin D for the long winter ahead.<br /></td></tr>
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When I met new people, the inevitable "What brought you to Finland?" question always arose quickly. Everyone was always surprised that I came voluntarily rather than being dragged here by a boyfriend or husband. They were even more surprised when I told them I didn't plan on leaving. In fact, I was often asked, "Really, if you could live anywhere in the world, you would live here?" <br />I always replied, <i>Yes, and at the moment I can't even think of considering living anywhere else. I think I'll be here for at least 10 years. The only other place that seems appealing to settle down in is maybe Switzerland, but I don't have any connections there. I'm quite happy here. </i></div>
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Little did I know that just a year or two later I'd be moving to start my Ph.D. studies in.... <i>Switzerland</i>.</div>
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<b>As I've come to Lausanne this week</b> for a short visit before my official start date to get acquainted with my new campus, new apartment, and new colleagues, I have had the pleasure of previewing my near-future lifestyle during the past few days. Switzerland's public transportation infrastructure is amazing, allowing a passenger to reach even the tiniest villages with incredibly few connections. For example, I'm moving to the village of Perroy: 1,407 inhabitants in a total area of 1.1 square miles. I take a bus, a train, and a metro to reach the campus in about 45 minutes. I usually only have to wait 4-5 minutes for my connections, but somehow in the past three days I've managed to end up in two slightly major transportation mishaps. One was my fault, the other clearly was not. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Watching the sun set from my kitchen window in Perroy</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My morning commute to Lausanne (the border between Switzerland and France is drawn through the middle of this lake, so you can see the French Alps on the other side, include Mont Blanc, Europe's highest peak).<br /></td></tr>
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A CASE OF CARELESS EMBARKATION</h4>
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Last night I was on my way home from <a href="http://nettrapan.net/">Nettra</a>'s fondue party when I boarded an "IR" train headed for Geneva instead of the "RE" train I was supposed to board, also going to Geneva. Apparently IR = InterRegional while RE = RegioExpress. The IR trains make few stops, and only at the bigger stations. RE trains are local trains and they tend to stop at all the little villages along the way. So, living in a village of 1,407, I definitely should have boarded a RegioExpress. But in my haste to board the first train that came (I was cold and it was 11pm), I realized 15 minutes into the journey that I was going to be whisked past my intended stop and on for another 12 minutes before I could disembark. </div>
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When I got off at Nyon it was about 11.30, snowing, and the departures board showed that the first RE train going to my home station would arrive at 00.53 ... about 1am in the morning. I almost began to cry, and thought of all the possibilities of getting out of the cold, including taking a taxi home at the hefty price of 60+ Swiss Francs (about 68 USD) and taking an approaching train all the way to Geneva where I knew I had a friend who'd kindly let me sleep over in any emergency. Just before the tears began to freeze into little icicles on my cheeks, my flatmate came to the rescue with a text message containing alternative directions to get home at a reasonable hour via public transport. I was saved. I thought, <i>Okay, the obligatory getting lost on public transport has happened; now I can relax and just be satisfied that I learned a good lesson about boarding trains. </i></div>
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And then tonight came. </div>
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A CASE OF BAD INFORMATION</h4>
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After attending the wonderful public thesis defense of an acquaintance and watching him receive his doctoral diploma (which one of my teary-eyed colleagues claims is a ceremony she enjoys "even more than a wedding"), I decided to head out around 19.30 in hopes of getting home a bit earlier than the night before. My first two connections went smoothly. When I arrived at my home train station, however, there were two buses parked outside. I asked the driver of the first if he passes by Perroy village; he said, "No, it's the bus ahead of me. Get on that one." So I did, <i>avec plaisir. </i> After about 10 minutes, though, I didn't recognize the landmarks on the route nor the names of the stops, so I asked the driver to confirm that he passes by my house. "Uhh...no." he said. "This bus makes a circle around the village of Rolle. I don't go to Perroy. You should have gotten on the bus that was behind me."<br /><br /><i>Hmm, that's weird, </i>I told him, <i>because I explicitly asked the driver of the other bus if he passed by, and he told me to get on your bus! </i><br />"Quel machin!" The old driver started to get excited. "You're going to have to stay on this bus until I circle around back to the train station, then you can change to the other bus and get home really late," he said rather sympathetically. "Take a seat."</div>
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I sat down near the driver, frustrated that I just couldn't seem to get home correctly and feeling sorry for myself that I had been tricked. But after a minute I just couldn't tolerate my horrible attitude. </div>
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<i>Well, looks like I get the grand tour of the little village of Rolle! </i>I said to him enthusiastically. It was actually a really cute little downtown. And I suddenly had the feeling that maybe it wasn't an accident that I ended up on this bus. Maybe this sweet little older man driving the bus needed someone to talk to. <i>I've only been here two days,</i> I told him, <i>I'm going to be moving here from Finland, and I haven't actually seen what this little village is like, so maybe this is my great opportunity. </i></div>
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"Oh, that's great!" he exclaimed. "I was driving a bus in the big city of Lausanne for 28 years, but now I've moved out here and I live on top of that mountain over there. It's great out here; all the people are nice and I know everyone." We talked on a bit longer; he told me how he came from Portugal, and asked me about my work. Just about then we entered a roundabout, and then in an act of true spontaneity, he says, "On y va! A Perroy!" and puts the pedal to the metal. We accelerated much more quickly than I expected a bus possibly could, and it took me a few seconds to grasp that he had decided to leave his route and take me home. I looked around behind me and the bus was empty; I was the last passenger. The sweet little Portugese bus driver tapped his clock, "I don't have to start my next route for 25 minutes." </div>
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It was the sweetest, kindest thing a bus driver had ever done for me. We pulled up right in front of my apartment and he let me off, then made a U-turn and disappeared into the frigid night, his tail lights blinking between the rows of grape vines in the vineyard <i>à côté. </i></div>
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<br />I think my time in the little lakeside village of Perroy is going to be just great. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Perroy, Switzerland46.4668855 6.35348939999994446.445013499999995 6.3131488999999439 46.4887575 6.3938298999999441tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-50889629685032290482014-12-07T19:51:00.000-06:002014-12-07T19:51:38.736-06:00Tacos, and the True Meaning of Leadership<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On the way home today, I passed a digital sign in front of the Del Taco fast food joint down the street that read: "Are you a leader?" I immediately thought to myself, <i>Everyone's always talking about leadership, about being a leader, but what about the </i><u style="font-style: italic;">content</u><i> behind leadership? </i><i style="text-decoration: underline;">Who</i> <i>do they think we should be leading, and <u>w</u></i><i style="text-decoration: underline;">hat</i><i> exactly does Del Taco want people to lead others in? Besides, if everyone is leading and there's no one around to follow, "leadership" would lose its meaning, right?</i><br />
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For some reason the question stuck with me throughout the day. <i>Am I a leader? </i><br />
When we think of "leaders", often the first people who come to mind are global changemakers, leaders of huge movements, and we think of them as having a lot of power and perhaps controlling a lot of assets such as money, things, events, people's mindsets, etc. <br />
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I can recall this view of mega-scale leadership being reinforced during college. There were nationally renowned speakers, authors, and leaders constantly coming in to speak on our campus. A lot of them were musicians-turned-philanthropists or turned-activists who decided they were going to change the world. Don't get me wrong, they're fabulous people doing great things and are all very inspiring in their own right, but the flood of huge names and huge campaigns seemed to have a narrowing effect on my perception of leadership.<br />
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It wasn't until today, thanks to this Del Taco sign, that I straightened out my thinking about leadership. I'm going to share my not-very-official definition of leadership, the way I think of it in my head: To me, leadership is saying "Hey guys, here's what I'm doing, here's where I'm going; I think it's a worthy pursuit, wanna join?"<br />
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In research we talk about looking at various phenomena on different "levels" -- for example, we could look at "fear of UFOs" on an individual level (how it affects a person's life), on a family level (how the fear affects family relationships), on a community level, on a national societal level, on a global level, and so on. (In fact, if you could get ahold of some aliens, you might even be able to study it on a universal level.) You can look at almost any phenomena on more than one level.<br />
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But outside of academia, how much time do we spend thinking about things like <i>leadership</i> on various levels?<br />
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To me, leadership is saying "Hey guys, here's what I'm doing, here's where I'm going; I think it's a worthy pursuit, wanna join?"</h3>
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Families need leaders. Sometimes friends need leaders. Communities need leaders, and organizations definitely need leaders. Discussions on leadership can quickly spiral into the particulars of vision casting and mission statements, but to simplify all that, isn't it just about finding something to do, somewhere to go, and helping pave the way for others to get there?<br />
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Just as a lot of the discussion on leadership has highlighted people leading on a huge scale, there has been a lot of focus on "born-global" businesses: start-ups that launch in multiple markets and multiple countries -- sometimes multiple continents -- from Day One. Great importance has been placed on scalability and scaling up quickly. But you can't just start leading at a global level without doing your homework on an individual, organizational, or community level. After all, who are you leading to buy into your product or service? They're individuals. Sometimes they're individuals representing an organization or a community, but at the end of the day, they're still individuals.<br />
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I've never had any particular desire to be a global leader, thought leader, or changer of the world at large. But I realize now that if I ever do feel called to that, I better have gotten used to understanding what it means to lead <i>people</i>, to come alongside individuals and say, "Hey guys, here's what I'm doing, here's where I'm going; I think it's a worthy pursuit, wanna join?"<br />
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So are you a leader? Are you thinking about being a leader? If you ask me, I'll tell you that the merit of your leadership isn't based on how many followers you have or on how far-reaching your influence is. It's enough to lead your family well, to lead a daycare center well, to lead even just one person out of loneliness, depression, sickness, or something else that ails them. If you care about someone, if you see an opportunity, and if you can come alongside that person and say, "Hey there, here's what I'm doing, here's where I'm going; I think it's a worthy pursuit, wanna join?" ... it seems to me like you're well on your way as a leader.<br />
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<i>*Disclaimer: I have to admit, there are some really cool "community leadership" programs, and campaigns, etc. addressing more local levels of leadership that are probably in operation all around me. I just haven't seemed to really "see" them for a long time. And if I've been missing that, others might be, too. Funny how a sign on the lawn of a fast-food restaurant would be the catalyst for this eye-opening thought exercise. </i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-48387229651659113142014-11-16T19:57:00.000-06:002014-11-16T19:57:22.246-06:00To Each Her Own Sanctuary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The landscapes are intriguing, beautiful, even breathtaking, but what really keeps me traveling is the people. Like snowflakes covering northern lands, no two people are exactly the same; each twirls and soars and falls and lands differently. Each has a different journey. Through conversations and shared experiences, I love to discover all sorts of people. But there is one kind of person that particularly inspires me. <br />
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This kind of person is found among both young and old, educated and uneducated, travelers and homebodies. I've found them in every country I've ever been to. It's the person who finds a passion, a purpose, and joyfully throws him- or herself into it wholeheartedly. It's the person who finds what that special thing is that gives back even more in personal satisfaction than the work and time and money and energy they may have put into it. As the author of this next excerpt so elegantly puts it, it's one's own "sanctuary". <br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"I feel instant relief when I step on the field. With a ball at my feet, all my worries dissipate, leaving only my love for the game. I've been playing competitive soccer for over a decade now, and the field is one of the only places I am perfectly content and absolutely comfortable to be myself. Soccer is not only a sport I play, it's a lifestyle. To me, it's not something I have to do or something I'm forced to spend my time on. It is something I long for, for which there is no replacement. This game has been the most beneficial privilege I could have in life. It is something I absolutely love to do and could not live without.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>There is no single thing that can relieve my stress like playing can. When I play, or simply juggle, I instantly forget all my worries. Soccer is my sanctuary. It rids me of the pains and stresses of life and fills me with a peace that is almost inexpressible in words. When I get the ball at my feet, I feel as if anything is possible. It reminds me constantly of life's purpose; it is not a race, no one can win. Of course there can always be a winner in a sport. However, I am not talking about soccer the sport. I am talking about the game of soccer. It is beautiful. It is fluid. It is endless. Moreover, it is unlike any other natural beauty in this world. This fluidity requires countless hours of practice, on and off the field. And for this is necessary the state of mind in which there is no giving up. It takes true grit. Once you reach the point where all your focus and hard work has paid off, you are left with the end product; what every soccer player strives for. It is a beautiful melody; a perfect song. It has rhythm, it has tempo. It is, however, unlike music or any other thing in that it is spontaneous with endless possibilities. Every touch, every pass, every movement. They are a variety of notes entwined to form one beautiful composition."</i></span><br />
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<br />I found these insightful words hidden in the rough draft of a college application essay, amid a pile of miscellaneous mail and school work on our kitchen table. "Don't read that," my 18-year-old sister Toreah Danielle mumbled, barely looking up from her AP Biology homework, "I wrote it in 45 minutes just to meet a deadline." <br /><br />
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<i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Soccer is not only a sport I play, it's a lifestyle. </i><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It reminds me constantly of life's purpose; it is not a race, no one can win. </i><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every touch, every pass, every movement. They are a variety of notes entwined to form one beautiful composition.</i></h3>
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Such a mature perspective for one so young. It was a thrill to discover that my little sister has grown into one of these most inspiring kinds of people.<br />
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<b>Upon finding our sanctuary</b>, each of us has a unique set of resources and opportunities that allow us to engage with the object of our passion to various degrees. A young man confined to a wheel chair might share Toreah's passion for soccer, but his pursuit of that sanctuary is going to look different from hers; perhaps he'll watch it, write about it, help a local team strategize. An 18-year-old girl in Iraq, like <a href="http://www.thenational.ae/news/world/middle-east/iraqi-women-risk-wrath-for-interest-in-football">Rana Dhafer</a>, might only be able to dream of cheering on her favorite team at a real-life match, meanwhile dodging well-meaning but overprotective family members in an attempt to watch a match on TV or even get news of the sport. <br />
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In fact, I was a bit shocked about what I read in <a href="http://www.thenational.ae/news/world/middle-east/iraqi-women-risk-wrath-for-interest-in-football#full">this article from an Abu Dhabi news outlet</a>:<br />
<b style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">Iraq is a nation of football fans, but many women risk the wrath of conservative male members of the family if they show an interest in events on the pitch - and domestic disputes have escalated into violence and divorce. </b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">If Rana Dhafer [of Baghdad] is to see tonight's crucial World Cup tie between Germany and England, she will have to evade her father and brothers, sneak out of the house and try to join her friends watching television in a neighbour's home. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">(...) </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">While many families - men and women - come together to enjoy games, there are a significant number of conservative households that prohibit female members, especially young adults, from viewing. (...)<br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">In Baghdad, the women's rights lawyer Inas Karim said dozens of domestic violence and divorce cases revolved around husbands who were jealous of their wives' admiration of football stars or actors. Calling it a "mentality" that was deeply rooted in Iraq, she said it had to be forced to change. "I've dealt with almost 50 situations of divorce where men are leaving their wives because of this," she said in an interview. "I've visited seven women in hospital with serious injuries after their husband beat them for liking footballers or actors."</span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">According to Mrs Karim, who works with the Baghdad Women's Association, a non-governmental organisation helping abuse victims, the judiciary was usually sympathetic to the men's complaints. "I've heard judges say it's shameful for a women to look at a man who isn't her husband," Mrs Karim said. "I stand there and tell them this is not against any law, it's not against any religion, it's not a smear on anyone's honour and that it is most certainly not adultery but they don't listen. They need to be educated, this is not acceptable."<br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">She called the situation "absurd" and said that films and football were one of the few escapes from the hard lives endured by most Iraqi women. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">"Women here a</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">re raising children, stuck in poverty, there is violence everywhere," she said. "If they want to daydream a little and watch a film or some football, let them, let them take a second or too away from their lives, what harm can that do?" </span><br />
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In the words of Rana Dhafer, the young Iraqi soccer fan: <span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">"It's diffic</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">ult to be at home," she said. "</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">When I'm at university I feel free to be my own person. I'</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px;">m not saying that I disrespect myself or behave badly there, but<b> I have room to breathe and to dream and to watch football if I want to. At home I can't do those things</b>. My family doesn't understand that I'm just a girl like all other girls in the world. I'm not doing anything wrong."</span><br />
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When I think about how much the game means to my own sister, Rana's story breaks my heart. But at the end of the day she also inspires me. It's seeing someone fully invested - heart, mind, and soul - and undeterrable in deriving satisfaction from her pursuit, that lights up my own heart and gets me appreciating life lived to its fullest.<br />
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Here is the latest highlights reel of Toreah in her sanctuary ... It may look more like a battlefield than a sanctuary, but hey -- To each her own sanctuary!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="337" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/111824954?portrait=0&color=c9ff23" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="600"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/111824954">Oregon State Semi-Final Highligths</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/ericfoy">Eric Foy</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-19593479339226148842014-11-06T00:40:00.002-06:002014-11-06T00:40:40.466-06:00Marking One Quarter of a Century<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My 25th birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. I never wrote down specific goals or even thought about what I would have hoped to do or experience or accomplish during my first 25 years on planet Earth, but looking back, I can say that I'm quite content with the journey thus far.<br />
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Many people, in their mind's eye, stop growing older after a certain age. The years pass by, but their identity is frozen in time; they continue to perceive themselves as that one ultimate age. My mom always thinks of herself as a 24-year-old. It seems to have worked well for her because now, at almost double that, she can still pass for 30. As a kid, I always wanted to be 17. It seemed magical in my imagination, and I truly felt invincible as I lived that year out in Belgium, Bosnia, the US, Australia, and China. In fact, that year went so well, I didn't easily move on. I've continued to think of myself as a 17-year-old out exploring the big, wide world. Until now.<br /><br />Twenty-five is a big marker in my mind. One quarter century. I want to do something extraordinary to kick off this year, so I begin to scheme, with 12 days left to come up with a proper celebratory plan.<br />
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Meanwhile, my past few weeks haven't been the easiest: Full of philosophical brooding, a lot of questions for myself, a bit of self-doubt at times. I've been waking up wondering: <i>Is anything I do today really going to make a difference in the world? </i>It's a daily cycle: Questions, Temporary Depression, Long Walk, Prayer, Praise, Encouragement, Meaningfulness, Enthusiasm for the day ahead, Excitement for my present work. At first it took a full day to come around to a place of peace, but has become progressively shorter. As I found the rhythm, wrote out the script that I need to read every morning, the process has been reduced to something I think about over my morning tea. I've found solace in the small opportunities to make a difference, like listening to friends and encouraging them as they go through their own transitions; helping my brother and new sister-in-law organize their new home.<br />
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I know many, <i>many</i> of you, my dear readers, are much more mature in years, wisdom, and experience than I, and I'd love to learn from all the skills and perspective you've honed over the years. It would be an honor to receive some words of advice, encouragement, warning, counsel, or anything else you would like to suggest as I move into this next season. <br />Your messages will reach me at <a href="mailto:shiraheden@gmail.com">shiraheden@gmail.com</a>. I look forward to hearing from you!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-69278497337260294932014-08-08T17:02:00.001-05:002014-08-08T17:18:14.634-05:00Season of Rest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've had an increasing sense during this year that now is a season of rest for me: mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. After years -- a full decade, actually -- of super-human self-expectations and unsustainable activity levels, I'm coming to a better understanding of what <b>rest</b> really means. In order to get to this point, I had to rewrite the internal script that told me I'm only worth as much as I can accomplish. I still haven't figured out how I developed that philosophy, but it doesn't really matter; what matters is that it's been replaced with a healthier script, one fueled by a sense of identity rooted in the truth that I am valuable because of who I am, not because of what I've done. As are you.<br />
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With that re-scripting has come a wonderful release, a longed-for freedom to just <i>enjoy</i> and not <i>produce. </i>Of course I still work. But with limits. Healthy limits that <strike>allow for</strike> <b>ensure </b>renewal and rejuvenation at the end of each day. Everywhere I turn, people and events keep reminding me that this is the time to reap the rewards of my hard work and truly enjoy them. For once, I have not argued. The results are worth sharing.<br />
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This week I was invited on a nice cruise to Stockholm; soaked in the sun during <a href="http://www.helsinkitimes.fi/finland/finland-news/domestic/11339-finland-basks-in-hottest-week-in-50-years.html">Finland's hottest weather in over 50 years</a>; sustained a fruity diet of mostly popsicles; and spent warm evenings on giant smooth rocks, looking out over the 10 pm sunsets with one of my best friends ever, deep in conversation about faith, inspiration, career decisions, and the great journey of life. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The Baltic Sea has been reported <a href="http://www.eea.europa.eu/themes/coast_sea/todays-sea-surface-temperature/surface-temperature-baltic-sea">as warm as 24 C / 75 F</a>. This little lake has become a large jacuzzi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sunset walks are the best time for conversations with God.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AzPIZXjUWzb0mEo0aE71NRfpb7fy0_wLmr9UEGdKP5OgJRIUapv-pK5mEtIit5LTTb0xmtEY5LLyOusU-FzKaCxE_Fmvf1ta_gCp-9E98A3zQzoy5sreL0mAyy6E7GlFSNUjpsyi91M/s1600/sunset+walk+3+August.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2AzPIZXjUWzb0mEo0aE71NRfpb7fy0_wLmr9UEGdKP5OgJRIUapv-pK5mEtIit5LTTb0xmtEY5LLyOusU-FzKaCxE_Fmvf1ta_gCp-9E98A3zQzoy5sreL0mAyy6E7GlFSNUjpsyi91M/s1600/sunset+walk+3+August.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Wrapping up a day at the Helsinki seaside, an introduction to Finland for a Russian friend's parents visiting from St. Petersburg.<br />
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The type of rest I'm experiencing is the mindset that lets you go with the flow, embrace spontaneity, make few enough commitments that you don't need a datebook to remember them. It's a rest that lets you dive deeper and deeper into a good discussion without worrying how late it's getting. It lets you put <i>people </i>above <i>appointments. </i>It lets you dance in a field of fog in the middle of the night and nap during the day when you need a recharge. It gives you an hour or two to yourself each day, to do whatever you feel like or even to do nothing at all.</h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sailing through the archipelago off the southeast coast of Sweden</td></tr>
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A few weeks ago I traveled to Switzerland. During the short weekend I explored a beautiful university campus, visited a good friend living there, got a brief tour of the CERN nuclear science research center, explored a museum of modern art, and spent a day with some lively Argentinians. I got to see Geneva, Lausanne, and Bern. </div>
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In June, I received a grant from Aalto University to attend and present my research at Babson Entrepreneurial Research Conference in Ontario, Canada. It was truly an honor to have my work accepted to this prestigious conference, especially so early on in my career, and I couldn't have imagined beforehand how being there would change my career prospects. Though a bit nerve-wracking to present in front of people with so much more experience, I held true to the promise I made to myself that I would really enjoy the trip and everything there was to learn and experience at the conference. A big reward of being there was the opportunity to meet up with my bachelor thesis advisor at Belmont, <a href="http://www.belmont.edu/business/faculty/schenkel_dr._mark.html">Mark Schenkel</a>, and celebrate our successful research project. </div>
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On the way back from Canada to Finland, I stopped over in Ireland and spent three days exploring Dublin and a little seaside town on the outskirts of the city, where my couchsurfing host lives. I was so blessed to meet a brilliant, adventurous American girl on her own round-the-world trip; we were staying with the same host and so had lots of time to chat while making all sorts of memories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Looking for fish 'n chips with Hannah in Howth, Ireland<br /><br /></td></tr>
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Seasons are different each time they come around. This autumn won't be exactly like the last autumn. Some autumns are quite warm, with Indian Summer days into October. Other autumns, the first snow flurries will cover the cold ground even before November. This season of rest feels moderate - after all, even now at its height I'm still working a few days per week - but it has the air of a <i>long</i>, moderate restful season, one that will extend well into next summer and even next autumn. At the same time, I'm pretty sure it won't last forever, and I'm reminded each day to treasure the restful moments in this hour. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-1359061888855330482014-07-29T05:42:00.000-05:002014-07-29T05:43:07.056-05:00Stockholm: The Door Collection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My 'adopted' Finnish parents took me along on a family vacation to Sweden this weekend, a Helsinki - Stockholm - Helsinki cruise. We had about seven hours in Stockholm to explore the city: Just enough time to visit a very old church, watch a parade, walk through the old town, and have a nice lunch out on the terrace of one of the many cafes. <br />
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Stockholm has some magnificent doorways! I snapped these quick shots along the way...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">2 for 1 ... Can you spot the mini-man-sized door within the larger one?</td></tr>
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Now here's the bonus door:</h3>
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At first glance it's a beautiful door you'd expect to see alongside a shady cobblestone street lined with full, leafy trees...</div>
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... But when you zoom out, it's actually the entry to a mini-mansion on a mini-island opposite the Royal Palace! </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-70645543208338760532014-07-16T07:59:00.000-05:002014-07-16T08:00:05.149-05:00Antigua: The Door Collection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black;">Antigua is a beautiful, colonial city nestled in the central highlands of Guatemala, in the shadow of the beautiful </span>Volcán de Agua. The city was founded in 1543 by the Spanish, who came to colonize most of Central America until 1773. That means the Spanish were ruling Central America from the time Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel and Copernicus was suggesting that the Sun is really the center of the universe ... until the time the United States of America was founded.<br />
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<span style="color: black;">I visited Antigua in the spring of 2012 with a group of stellar faculty and students from Belmont University. Our mission was to learn more about social entrepreneurship in its many forms. You can read more about the trip in my reflections on the <a href="http://shirah-goes-again.blogspot.fi/2012/02/countdown-begins.html">coffee industry</a>, <a href="http://shirah-goes-again.blogspot.fi/2012/03/guatemala-part-i.html#more">life on the road</a>, and <a href="http://shirah-goes-again.blogspot.fi/2012/03/guatemala-part-ii-esperanza.html#more">visiting the home of some Ixil locals</a>.</span><br />
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Here are some of the doors I passed.</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1_Jhp8ZX9GTHwdMtrVpKsJmUveiyUNg4FDk3IpUwebo0nNnIQv0Fh8Ea9DwXYOGKWyJjbK1Y8xRTq8KtHGx5lSXO5kuE1x3_fpXssSI0nwRKufKHTAqhXA_LWAIU91gXBtgN1Phy2wM/s1600/P1120859.JPG"><br /></a></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFrT3BrsV9SYCV060Iq7RU9onEMYqWpqJuFYzvDw7ByqCTBTaY9Ufm8BPJD6OiwIVzar0CzfM-QZX-sDkvKxqvYsXTBDavFcXKWToq2sd__oO3MXX0VjhLbgHotoowEEpMbTABzw2T00/s1600/P1120879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFrT3BrsV9SYCV060Iq7RU9onEMYqWpqJuFYzvDw7ByqCTBTaY9Ufm8BPJD6OiwIVzar0CzfM-QZX-sDkvKxqvYsXTBDavFcXKWToq2sd__oO3MXX0VjhLbgHotoowEEpMbTABzw2T00/s1600/P1120879.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-7922793996389826622014-07-01T09:40:00.000-05:002014-07-01T09:40:42.952-05:00Tie the Shoelace You're Tripping On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; widows: 2;">It hit me during a meeting with the CFO of one of Finland's most respected financial institutions. The clock struck one and we'd already been deep in conversation for two hours. A young lady about my age came in to take sandwich orders, which she promptly went to pick up from a nearby cafe. As she served me delicious smoked salmon on rye, I realized how easily I could have been in her shoes - serving sandwiches in important meetings, instead of in mine - eating a sandwich in an important meeting (but more importantly, adding value to this important meeting). </span><div style="font-family: Tahoma; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; widows: 2;">
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I have, in the not so distant past, been doing exactly that young woman's job - catering sandwiches to business people. It can be great fun. There's nothing wrong with a service position; what was wrong with my situation is the reason I was doing it. I'm not passionate about serving sandwiches. Though I can appreciate a good meal, I'm not really even passionate about culinary art. The reason I was catering is because I hadn't been charging enough for the work I <i>am </i>passionate about, and the bills needed to get paid somehow. </div>
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<b>Your mere ability to do a job well does not imply that it's the job you should be doing.</b></h3>
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A conversation with a brilliant and very talented [male] friend of mine a few weeks ago convinced me that I wasn't alone and encouraged me to start a conversation about young women and work appraisal. This friend's sister (whom I imagine has to be as equally brilliant and talented as her brother) is a freelance graphic designer who has a difficult time with her invoicing. By which I mean she simply doesn't do invoicing. Her brother tells me that he's been bugging her for years to raise her prices, but there is something real behind her mental roadblock. So he has gone as far as engaging his company in projects for which he knows he will need the specific skills of his sister, hiring her to do the work, assigning a price to her services (much higher than she would ever suggest), invoicing himself, and transferring the money to her bank account. Now that is brotherly love. </div>
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But we don't all have such a brother to employ us. (Okay, well, I happen to have four entrepreneurial brothers. But that's beside the point.)</div>
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<b>What is behind </b>young women's apprehension to request fair compensation? Why do we have skewed perceptions of what's "fair" when it comes to the value of our work?</div>
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I was once talked down to charging <b>one third</b> of my list price for marketing material development. Why did I even consider entertaining that conversation? Because it would be an ongoing contract and I didn't want to lose the opportunity for a steady revenue stream. It wasn't long before I discovered, however, that in the time I spent earning 1,000 € from that contract, I could have found, solicited, and struck deals with two or three new customers (at my list price) and still earned twice as much in the same amount of time.</div>
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<b>Discounting my work has never, ever led to a better contract.</b></h3>
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In my experience and conversations, young women systematically undervalue their work. Whereas I know young men who've walked confidently into a job interview with only a vague recollection of the job title, it seems like a young woman will ensure that she has mastered every single function in the job description before even applying. When it comes to performance expectations, young women seem less likely to take risk. And we are much more price sensitive, ready to offer a discount for anything short of perfection. <br /><br />I'm not the only one who's been thinking of this. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Michelle Haynes and Madeline Heilman at the University of Massachusetts conducted a study and <a href="http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2013-05/8/women-teamwork-bias">found that</a>, <i>"</i></span><i>Essentially, there is no such thing as innate low self-worth among women -- just the opposite. The problem is that self-perception is highly situation dependent and reliant on exterior factors outside of a person's control." </i>Though we might have great self-confidence and feel that we are capable of doing anything, the situation in which we compare our work to others and assign a value to it based on that comparison can throw us off.</div>
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<b>Part of the issue</b> is feeling that we have to justify our work requirements (salary, etc.), and this is something women find difficult to do. Haynes and Heilman bring up a <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1207/s15324834basp1802_8#.UYoc2Ct4Yi4">1996 study</a> which <i>"showed that women who described their achievements in a self-promoting manner were considered undeserving, while the same behaviour in men illicited no such response." </i>Perhaps you've received negative feedback after speaking up when you felt you needed to justify your request with a description of your accomplishments.</div>
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Being the well-accomplished woman that she is, I appreciate Haynes' honesty in describing a personal example of the phenomena she studies. She <a href="http://www.wired.co.uk/news/archive/2013-05/8/women-teamwork-bias">tells Wired</a>, <i>"As I was reading this extraordinary review [for a conference submission], I thought: 'Wow! Those other co-contributors must have really written something amazing for us to have gotten this kind of feedback.' And then it hit me like a tonne of bricks: I do this too." </i>'This' being a self-deprecating, others-focused perception of contribution toward success. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Tahoma;"><b>Then Stanford gets in on the conversation</b>, <a href="http://www.gsb.stanford.edu/news/research/hr_women.shtml">suggesting</a> </span><i>"Everyone knows that on average women earn less than men for the same work." </i>They quantified how much we undervalue our work, citing a study in which women paid themselves 18 percent less than men paid themselves for the same work. To make it more unsettling... '<i>An independent panel judged the quality of the work to be equal and indistinguishable on the basis of gender. Furthermore, the women were some of Americas most elite students: Yale University undergraduates. "Women think they are worth less," concludes Jost [the lead researcher], who was disturbed at the strength of the result.'</i></div>
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Everyone knows that on average women earn less than men for the same work.</h3>
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If you don't value your own work, others won't either. Customers who bargain you down to dirt-cheap prices will never refer you to customers who are willing to pay more than their discount-hungry friends. </div>
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Facebook COO <a href="http://www.forbes.com/profile/sheryl-sandberg/">Sheryl Sandburg</a> agrees. She warns women that if we don't own our accomplishments, we will be left behind while men are promoted in our place. If you're self-employed, "owning your accomplishments" means boldly setting a price you'd like to earn. I recommend her <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/sheryl_sandberg_why_we_have_too_few_women_leaders?language=en">TedTalk</a>. You might also like <a href="http://quickbase.intuit.com/blog/2012/04/02/do-women-undervalue-themselves-yes-according-to-sheryl-sandberg/">one journalist's advice</a> on stepping up your game. </div>
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<b>So go out and enterprise. </b> Step up for the big job interview. Seek the advice of senior value creators and mentors who can give you proper perspective on the value of your work. Then set some prices and fight to stick to them. Step into your shoes as founder or freelancer, and don't forget to tie your shoelaces. Otherwise you will be tripping yourself up for aeons to come. This is your career. You're in it for the long haul, right? I don't know any marathon runner who leaves his laces untied at the starting line.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Helsinki, Finland60.173324400000013 24.94102480000003743.593364400000013 -16.367569199999963 76.753284400000013 66.249618800000036tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-26367354098842727052014-06-29T16:08:00.000-05:002014-06-29T16:08:14.163-05:00Helsinki: The Door Collection (#2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This odd tri-part door on a rare vacant (abandoned?) building in downtown Helsinki caught my attention during some weekend wanderings. I hereby add it to the collection.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-2011532810314583742014-06-23T09:51:00.000-05:002014-06-23T09:51:05.631-05:00Dublin: The Door Collection<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You're in for a treat. This might be my favorite door collection to date. Dublin is full of incredible entries! This warm-spirited, friendly and ancient-looking city will draw you in with coziness at every turn.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Cafe near the <i><a href="http://www.dublincastle.ie/">Dublin Castle</a></i>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Now that's an old door.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Not bad for a back door, <i><a href="http://www.stpatrickscathedral.ie/">St. Patrick's Cathedral</a></i><br />Listening to pure voices echo through the ancient building (founded 1191) during <br />the Evensong Chorale service was an experience not easily forgotten.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Harbour-side in Howth, a peninsula in the northeast of greater Dublin area</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-1764092695567924402014-06-18T11:05:00.000-05:002014-06-18T11:05:55.372-05:00Turn "Are we there yet?" into "Look where we are!!"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Have you ever been on a road trip with children who just couldn't wait to get there? Did the continuous pressure to silence the nagging keep you from pulling over at a vista point, or even suck all the joy out of time that could be spent enjoying the view from the window?</div>
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It's 2:30 am and I'm coming to terms with the irony. The irony that, as a person who keeps a blog titled "<b>No Journey Wasted</b>," I've spent far too much of the past 6 years looking toward the next destination and - during those destination-obsessed phases - not allowing myself to relax enough to enjoy the moment. </div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">And I'm not talking about the easy moments. Anyone can </span><a href="http://shirah-goes-again.blogspot.fi/2013/02/barcelona-in-february.html" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">enjoy a splendid cappucino on a Spanish balcony under the Barcelona sun</a><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">. I'm talking about the hard stuff, the nitty gritty challenges you're not sure you'll even survive. There is something to appreciate in those moments. Even if your day's song is only "I'm alive! I'm doing it! Who knows what the end result will be, but I'm going to enjoy the challenge in front of me today!"</span></div>
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Our ability to see that and say that has a lot to do with whether we're operating in a <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/01/29/carol-dweck-mindset/">fixed mindset or a growth mindset</a>. A <b><i>fixed mindset</i></b> tells you that "your qualities are carved in stone" and "creates an urgency to prove yourself over and over." On the other hand, a <b><i>growth mindset</i></b> "is based on the belief that your basic qualities are things you can cultivate through your efforts" -- it advocates the principle that "everyone can change and grow through application and experience." (I recommend you <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/01/29/carol-dweck-mindset/">read this article</a> illustrating the power of mindset, and <a href="http://ed.ted.com/on/UA77FlTc">watch Carol Dweck's TedTalk</a>.)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">StartUp Weekend Helsinki: A good place to practice using the growth mindset. It's all about iteration!<br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">As the kids in the backseat of my mind begin to pipe down, </span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">I'm so thankful for second chances to enjoy the view on my journey. During my first (bachelor) thesis, I was definitely interested in learning, but that motivation driven by curiosity was often trumped by ridiculous internal pressure and doubts about whether I would measure up. And looking back, I learned an enormous amount of things that will continue to benefit me throughout life, but I also made a <a href="http://shirah-goes-again.blogspot.fi/2012/07/trek-to-everest-base-camp-part-v.html">Himalayan peak</a> out of a medium-sized hill.</span><br />
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But oh boy, this time around I'm headed to the same destination, but taking the scenic route and having so much fun! As I start to craft the first research plan for my master thesis, I'm loving every minute of the process. It doesn't matter that it's not perfect and there are some gaps; that's why you make a research plan to begin with, that's what this whole process is about.</div>
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<b>The brilliant part </b>is that once you get the hang of this growth mindset in one area, it's so easy to bring into another. Hmm... Our business needs to decide on our target customer segments, and quick!? There will always, <i>always</i>, be the risk that you pick the "wrong" segment, or that you miss a sizable opportunity. In fact, you will always miss some opportunities; you will never be able to take advantage of them all -- that's the principle of opportunity cost. <br />
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It can be paralyzing if you have a black-and-white, succeed-or-fail mindset, but if we approach every task with a learn-as-we-go mindset, we free ourselves to experiment and in doing so usually come across new opportunities we would have never seen. Challenge accepted!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">No, I'm not in the juice business. But I did spend several months preparing a market strategy for a [hypothetical] new player in the Finnish juice market. That is the type of fun we have in grad school.</td></tr>
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Your ultimate worth does not depend on the perfection of your work, on the grade you get or the size of your paycheck. Your identity, your experiences and your memories are all you really get to keep. So give yourself a raise today - a raise in spirits - and embrace the next challenge. Look where you are! You might not ever get to drive this stretch of road again, so enjoy today's journey! </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-84763232089234721912014-05-08T05:27:00.000-05:002014-05-08T05:32:55.293-05:00Discover an Artistic Prodigy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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During my time in Oregon this year I had the privilege of watching my sister Toreah complete several art pieces, expertly - and seemingly effortlessly - turning ideas into concepts and sketches and finally finished, tangible <i>oeuvres</i>. At age 17, her ability to capture soul-stirring emotion while telling a story in her work is incredible.<br />
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When VANS shoe company solicited designs from high school students across the US, Toreah submitted a design under the "Local Taste" theme and, along with 4 of her classmates, has made it into the semifinals!</div>
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It takes 1 click (and no registration) to put your vote in, so check out some of Toreah's work below and then <b><a href="http://sites.vans.com/customculture/vote/1/">follow this link</a></b> to support her by voting <b>by Friday, May 9th </b>for <b>North Medford High School</b> in VANS' popular vote contest. <a href="http://sites.vans.com/customculture/about/">She could win</a> a trip to New York City, see her shoe design manufactured, and win $60,000 for her school's art program! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Rogue Valley "Local Taste" for VANS (2014)</td></tr>
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Toreah is completing her Junior year at North Medford High School this year, where she has played Varsity Women's Soccer since entering the school three years ago. She serves as a Commissioner at the Medford Art Commission & <a href="http://www.ci.medford.or.us/CCBIndex.asp?CCBID=42">Mayor's Youth Advisory Commission</a>. Her works have comprised pencil, pen, oil, acrylic, watercolor, and multimedia; and she is available for private and public commissions. This year, she'll apply to several US universities where she can continue artistic study as well as high-level training and competing in soccer. She is the only individual on our planet named Toreah Danielle (confirmed by Google), and I discovered just today that one adoring fan even went so far as to <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=toreah">define the term "toreah" in the Urban Dictionary</a>.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Part of the Roman Influence on Modern Culture series (2013)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Part of the Roman Influence on Modern Culture series (2014)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Nepal (2012)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Glass and Liquid study (2013)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Dreamland (2013)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Pattern study (2013)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The Water Pump (2013)</td></tr>
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Don't forget to <a href="http://sites.vans.com/customculture/vote/1/">vote</a> for Toreah's <b>North Medford High School </b>team<b> </b>in the VANS contest. Send this girl to NYC!</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RrDVcXhSnWm2oFiVXY2RQcylTI_7rzu0aolH5uI3ee3xke0yAQfkxB-926IUtbxQJ3hFrVOmOgWvFcn7vdMa0r-croOKh3z8_3rWREsrbCHPk44_6Kgvle-WIxZQ-bNL3xcLDReHz-o/s1600/fr635258432665940000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RrDVcXhSnWm2oFiVXY2RQcylTI_7rzu0aolH5uI3ee3xke0yAQfkxB-926IUtbxQJ3hFrVOmOgWvFcn7vdMa0r-croOKh3z8_3rWREsrbCHPk44_6Kgvle-WIxZQ-bNL3xcLDReHz-o/s1600/fr635258432665940000.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Shirah, 24 and Toreah, 17 (2014)</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-56723428305101535912014-04-24T08:41:00.000-05:002014-04-24T08:41:55.843-05:00If there was one gift I could give to my children<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If there was one gift I could give to my children, it would be the ability to find contentment.<br />
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It's not the same thing as simply wanting them to be content. <br />
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The contentment we most often speak of in western society is fleeting, temporary. It depends on my ability to satiate my child's desires and it is often fueled by commodities. If you begin to chase it, it may well turn into an eternal rat-race. But the <i>ability</i> to be content - that is a sustainable, renewable resource. And it originates in them, not me. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qIN8aPCdijOiGaukp55si1KZNY8DsHWHK3UWK2tWOYfY1p5P6CqH-RA6Rtw-QlNWXmJraPS7RroMOrLVhCGxCD8J7r9pn7fpv7aGK-44NkdLZmxFH-BOllvWhXM6ryChBxIZ634geH4/s1600/helsinki+903250_10151960639526780_7483960344284523195_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qIN8aPCdijOiGaukp55si1KZNY8DsHWHK3UWK2tWOYfY1p5P6CqH-RA6Rtw-QlNWXmJraPS7RroMOrLVhCGxCD8J7r9pn7fpv7aGK-44NkdLZmxFH-BOllvWhXM6ryChBxIZ634geH4/s1600/helsinki+903250_10151960639526780_7483960344284523195_o.jpg" height="524" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">Kaivopuistonranta, Helsinki (2014)</td></tr>
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Of all the good things I could instill in them (if my "one gift" genie act was real), I would pick the ability to find contentment above most others. <br />
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It's good to work hard. It's good to give your best effort. It's good to dream big and have incredible goals. But when you lie down at the end of the day, it's best to spend a few minutes just <b>being</b>. Being still. Being the person you are without wanting to be something else. Being content. <br />
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It's great to hope. It's great to desire. It's great to aspire. Those are wonderful parts of being alive. But they're all action words. And when you're in action, it's hard to rest. You'll find real rest when you pause the action and just let yourself be. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQZezrRjiWuxQKGL2sk9x8DSGx31TrZvWyOvL-pcNM8HN9hLRTtlKmqWQBsqOqqjBAJkuWmT1Br5cYhZ1nplR8VNsyiDjIfTaOMEPidftJT7ta-4wBJ1_HCL1UI09JWEkCiZcL_3__Y4/s1600/nepal+1926240_10151886205916780_13229684_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQZezrRjiWuxQKGL2sk9x8DSGx31TrZvWyOvL-pcNM8HN9hLRTtlKmqWQBsqOqqjBAJkuWmT1Br5cYhZ1nplR8VNsyiDjIfTaOMEPidftJT7ta-4wBJ1_HCL1UI09JWEkCiZcL_3__Y4/s1600/nepal+1926240_10151886205916780_13229684_o.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">"Sherpani", Solukhumbu, Nepal (2012)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHec-tfQDoe-iRbZJyhVsC5GFn8HtMTBg7wyDjAH8_vtPQxd89ehHcWZmsjXlySJkzcu1TQXOqZSGMMEiSRAYhALErvZxe105EUmnUfxxg3f7UHBfvPpnVXd0PooNvu6YWDhjOF2MrrI/s1600/nepal+281992_10151006317771780_1669590762_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHec-tfQDoe-iRbZJyhVsC5GFn8HtMTBg7wyDjAH8_vtPQxd89ehHcWZmsjXlySJkzcu1TQXOqZSGMMEiSRAYhALErvZxe105EUmnUfxxg3f7UHBfvPpnVXd0PooNvu6YWDhjOF2MrrI/s1600/nepal+281992_10151006317771780_1669590762_n.jpg" height="640" width="596" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">"Walking in the footsteps of a giant" (Elephant footprint), Sauraha, Chitwan, Nepal (2012)</td></tr>
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A wise man named Paul once said,<br />
<span class="text Phil-4-11" id="en-NIV-29454">"I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.</span> <span class="text Phil-4-12" id="en-NIV-29455"><sup class="versenum"> </sup>I
know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I
have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation,
whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."</span><br />
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Many of us experience only a small range of the spectrum when it comes to living in plenty or in want. Sometimes we do something "radical" - like a humanitarian aid trip or a mission trip - and for two or three weeks we rough it in a community who lives somewhere farther toward the "in want" side of the spectrum. Weighed down by water purification tablets and high-top hiking boots, we marvel that we're able to survive in such conditions. The thrill of exotic new things to discover mitigates the impact of the inconveniences, and we comfort ourselves with thoughts of rolling out of our own beds again, biting into a real bagel and sharing unbelievable tales with our friends over brunch. <br />
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But it really takes the tablets running out and the rocks pushing up into our soles before we're faced with the issue of finding contentment while living in want. Relatively few of us in the western world have gone to bed hungry, literally not knowing if or when the next day would bring an opportunity for a meal. It's not a judgment, just an observation. But doesn't it sound crazy that someone could be content in such a situation? <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVWA4pZe2zJ6ZUq_1OapFL6hbXXlfseD4qTWJUjBLg1-bjXlwufNLHexYK-WhVdhwej08L_1gxlDUhJ2qCJDtemRalAA14ws5vZz7-Smqe6dB6cSIOf2Dlbg9JR1KhhE6usE_46pK5xE/s1600/guatemala+206555_10151148893156780_1066432145_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVWA4pZe2zJ6ZUq_1OapFL6hbXXlfseD4qTWJUjBLg1-bjXlwufNLHexYK-WhVdhwej08L_1gxlDUhJ2qCJDtemRalAA14ws5vZz7-Smqe6dB6cSIOf2Dlbg9JR1KhhE6usE_46pK5xE/s1600/guatemala+206555_10151148893156780_1066432145_n.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">"Rich Man's Breakfast", Guatemala City, Guatemala (2012)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kOGUp5FxTTPLc5QsmwzZ6NJHu5DBRa-23e-sTD-5CTek9lbh4j1Foq8ubrllXqDjIiFN4CLg6Rfuz9HpMn93ERyHZoXkkXoUNiXD1XUX_eOwHPjqNLjJmO-xxYTRwNzwg9bmodXPHtQ/s1600/guatemala+386700_10151148985786780_246931485_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kOGUp5FxTTPLc5QsmwzZ6NJHu5DBRa-23e-sTD-5CTek9lbh4j1Foq8ubrllXqDjIiFN4CLg6Rfuz9HpMn93ERyHZoXkkXoUNiXD1XUX_eOwHPjqNLjJmO-xxYTRwNzwg9bmodXPHtQ/s1600/guatemala+386700_10151148985786780_246931485_n.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">"The Weavers", Chajul, Guatemala (2012)</td></tr>
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I think real contentment is the ability to accept the truth of our situation - even for just a time - before we try to change it. Of course I want my children to be healthy and happy, but no matter where they find themselves in life, and no matter how long, I hope they will be able to find the internal peace of contentment without regard to external factors.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxp6K_XszPK0GY7V-6skmGdPYo73vzWQuO3MXpsQ2fV_02_dzAL0Movf_gsKoTnKMbY2Awuk5ajLSpS8QJSy5cc7Xq7LynaoaYCBYj6NZEAP5GphdMxWsQpuUoQErljUEORAURKxsj0U/s1600/ukraine+315412_10150296118336780_1024817047_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxp6K_XszPK0GY7V-6skmGdPYo73vzWQuO3MXpsQ2fV_02_dzAL0Movf_gsKoTnKMbY2Awuk5ajLSpS8QJSy5cc7Xq7LynaoaYCBYj6NZEAP5GphdMxWsQpuUoQErljUEORAURKxsj0U/s1600/ukraine+315412_10150296118336780_1024817047_n.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">Odessa, Ukraine (2011)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30NYFF__W_w3svToWjFyfSXD_Xnu6z2ECNOX21tHGp2CA-OdruB3ZMBk2k1R2jM3u_Yjh-BK3ZJsWwDy4S0izbYzlevw7cOYlTioACHnJwfUGAGnPgjDVeX6H6KKWqUAYdxLEzwXQZBI/s1600/chitwan+404119_10151006325936780_1654283391_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30NYFF__W_w3svToWjFyfSXD_Xnu6z2ECNOX21tHGp2CA-OdruB3ZMBk2k1R2jM3u_Yjh-BK3ZJsWwDy4S0izbYzlevw7cOYlTioACHnJwfUGAGnPgjDVeX6H6KKWqUAYdxLEzwXQZBI/s1600/chitwan+404119_10151006325936780_1654283391_n.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="left"><td class="tr-caption">Sauraha, Chitwan, Nepal (2012)</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-70637345650561213612014-04-23T09:13:00.001-05:002014-04-23T09:13:49.017-05:00When Dream Jobs Don't Pan Out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you would have asked me what my ultimate "dream job" would be anytime between my fourteenth and twenty-first birthdays, I wouldn't have hesitated to proudly declare that some day I hoped to work for the U.S. Department of State as a Foreign Service Officer. I envisioned grand adventures of living in foreign lands, constantly learning new languages, and working with locals as a representative of the alruistic American people, for the betterment of their country and the betterment of the world at large. What I never imagined is that, at the age of twenty-one I would be flying to Russia to start an internship which fully embodied the responsibilities, prestige and adventures I had sought as a young adult and believed awaited me at the State Department.<br />
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The twelve weeks I spent working at the U.S. Consulate in St. Petersburg, Russia encompassed a few of the most spectacular and memorable events I have ever experienced. Dining with celebrities and politicians; attending conferences with some of the nation's brightest scholars; walking beautiful streets lined with antique palaces gilded in gold; occupying the best seats in the city's best theaters, watching the most talented and accomplished performers in the company of the city's elite cultural circle and emerging philanthropist minority; researching the inner workings of a government and society so different from our own. And yet, amidst all the excitement of an exhilarating job, comfortable government accommodations, the prestigious diplomatic lifestyle, and the thrill of a beautiful new land, something was missing: my freedom.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvj93frynobb8oUTwM6NVA3pJiXOwEQHrt10O37F9wPS-E6BriltUn8KSDuvGuWSGppWdWhASjuFYGAoEFnBnHC6bGpSVWFny2heKmi4BLP2aeY1IvC7mpa4TiN83fsAjbZiiYXoWCGHA/s1600/b+Tamara.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvj93frynobb8oUTwM6NVA3pJiXOwEQHrt10O37F9wPS-E6BriltUn8KSDuvGuWSGppWdWhASjuFYGAoEFnBnHC6bGpSVWFny2heKmi4BLP2aeY1IvC7mpa4TiN83fsAjbZiiYXoWCGHA/s1600/b+Tamara.JPG" height="400" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Chatting with the Coach of the <br />Russian Olympic Figure Skating Team</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RJO6zbIeWxracjps7Wblt-TZwFzv0ymHhklXc2e307izcapsIczg6RR-ySKPwycn9YQSDlHWNwnJfKZYlam5zC5pBzlNWAE9c_BczHGEH9XcghAWwIJVgIni7WF16qnS_5AC6WPzh6A/s1600/IMG_8050n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5RJO6zbIeWxracjps7Wblt-TZwFzv0ymHhklXc2e307izcapsIczg6RR-ySKPwycn9YQSDlHWNwnJfKZYlam5zC5pBzlNWAE9c_BczHGEH9XcghAWwIJVgIni7WF16qnS_5AC6WPzh6A/s1600/IMG_8050n.jpg" height="283" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>With U.S. Consulate General Sheila Gwaltney, an American ballerina<br />competing in the International Open Dance Festival, and the Consulate's Cultural Assistant.</i></td></tr>
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<h2 style="text-align: right;">
Amidst all the excitement, <br />the prestige, the thrill ... <br />something was missing: my freedom. </h2>
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There are certainly security concerns in a place such as Russia, and though one would be hard-pressed to call this paranoia – because the threats really do exist – the measures that were taken to ensure safety and security sometimes felt restricting for the young, social, curious individual that I am. During and after my time in Russia, I learned that I value my freedom more than my security; and I value the opportunity to interact with and learn from every individual more than the necessary air of prestige that comes with the diplomatic job description. In short, I learned that I truly am more of an entrepreneur than a statesman. I could have never fully accepted this without experiencing for myself the dynamics of my "dream job." The opportunity to have done so at such an early stage in my career has been incredibly consequential.<br />
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No longer do I aspire to a position in our government which I once viewed as a place where I could have the most wide-ranging influence and do the most good. I’ve seen the power of connections and experienced for myself the great good that can be done in collaboration with private individuals and organizations who share my values across the globe. Instead of signing up to follow someone else’s rules and work a "nine-to-five" office job for the rest of my life, I’m taking the reigns and working to arrange projects and a way to make a living on my own schedule.<br />
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<h2 style="text-align: right;">
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<h2 style="text-align: right;">
I'm really more of an <br />entrepreneur than a statesman.</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMRL-RlgvSgkRMBh3N1flvi6jig9F-jTJz6MGHoOMq6yAmO628pyXZZGsb1x3aIP4h8T7gUscxWIXizAyxY_VeSNKvuYTPEp3FwZYtGrH41xoOBb91rp7lVps6Js4Dimlt2VpcQ1Foew/s1600/320798_4439069709551_956870051_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMRL-RlgvSgkRMBh3N1flvi6jig9F-jTJz6MGHoOMq6yAmO628pyXZZGsb1x3aIP4h8T7gUscxWIXizAyxY_VeSNKvuYTPEp3FwZYtGrH41xoOBb91rp7lVps6Js4Dimlt2VpcQ1Foew/s1600/320798_4439069709551_956870051_n.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">One of the best product development teams. Ever.</span></td></tr>
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</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-oAoT038612OZSehXFdcPZHLpGeO-9N2HLGDJCW2rrrsTMqVvNwOn8FY54bOfPLwl5IQa-iUiMSkTdAdmpm1MLIj0zzyx1iFnHmgIcU8nUll8qR9ajH33OXixDFQLNTAdKrwSEYhK84/s1600/429613_420385421388353_1799472138_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl-oAoT038612OZSehXFdcPZHLpGeO-9N2HLGDJCW2rrrsTMqVvNwOn8FY54bOfPLwl5IQa-iUiMSkTdAdmpm1MLIj0zzyx1iFnHmgIcU8nUll8qR9ajH33OXixDFQLNTAdKrwSEYhK84/s1600/429613_420385421388353_1799472138_n.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day I "learned" to code. Turns out it's not my thing. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7v1btG-teV9VzDofVUlHaEprhJsJnZxfFgWF3T9Aqd3R4wMEwKooJErnzKQwUXYCsDGyVncTnzox_mtk2zUyDASHU1TTcUJUH9334lSL7jPLNfuxGWD6-Zxo0rJxEUJAxGmLh-5PUNm0/s1600/556987_10151147581621780_870018927_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7v1btG-teV9VzDofVUlHaEprhJsJnZxfFgWF3T9Aqd3R4wMEwKooJErnzKQwUXYCsDGyVncTnzox_mtk2zUyDASHU1TTcUJUH9334lSL7jPLNfuxGWD6-Zxo0rJxEUJAxGmLh-5PUNm0/s1600/556987_10151147581621780_870018927_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Entrepreneurial co-conspirators in their natural habitat.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-72476948138009311692014-03-23T23:12:00.001-05:002014-03-23T23:17:14.865-05:00Odessa, Ukraine: My Poetic Tribute<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the wake of the conflict plaguing southern Ukraine, I've been reflecting on the two months I spent studying in Odessa during the summer of 2011. <br />
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As I prepare to fly back to Finland, the past few weeks of spring cleaning in my parents' garage has had me going through boxes of foreign language books and memoires I've brought home as trophies from my adventures. Tucked away in the back of a notebook filled with grammar exercises, I found the following poem I once scribbled and a few telltale grains of sand - remnants of a summer spent writing and reading Russian books on the beaches of Odessa.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">map: <a href="http://newday.blogs.cnn.com/2014/03/12/five-things-to-know-for-your-new-day-wednesday-march-12-2014/">CNN</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>Young Ukrainian girls play along the shores of the Black Sea in Odessa</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Одесса</b><br />великолепный город на берегу Чёрного моря<br />модные Одесситы на пляже<br />улитцы спокойные<br />никогда далеко дома.<br />Туристы у тебя<br />думают о следующем раз<br />даже прежде чем они уехали.<br />В террассах, тянующих вдоль дорожек<br />люди довольны своей отпуск потягивают фрещов<br />на самые жаркие дней лета.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-iZ9RA3_lqyPUTTS9FLahAWz2uSBlct7P61Epfc4nEjEI3Y_bUTPJvgVgVOUfEgxm5aUCqdVaZvzFVzPZlDvhTZCtK1ALajdsssH-0oMZPBi8DMdAD6tUIsJxEwu0vdnf2eHbi_rBkA/s1600/2+Colors+of+Sunset+Yalta-Ukraine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-iZ9RA3_lqyPUTTS9FLahAWz2uSBlct7P61Epfc4nEjEI3Y_bUTPJvgVgVOUfEgxm5aUCqdVaZvzFVzPZlDvhTZCtK1ALajdsssH-0oMZPBi8DMdAD6tUIsJxEwu0vdnf2eHbi_rBkA/s1600/2+Colors+of+Sunset+Yalta-Ukraine.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>A couple watches the sunset from a marina in Yalta, a port city on the southern tip of the Crimean peninsula</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">magnificent city on the Black Sea</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">never far from home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Your tourists</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">before they've even left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">people, content with their vacations, sip fresh juices</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">on the hottest days of summer.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>"Stairs of History" in a historic neighborhood near my home in Odessa</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>Locals and tourists flock to the shore in Yalta to watch the sunset along the promenade</i></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-46196803946515438692014-03-12T07:00:00.000-05:002014-03-12T07:00:05.239-05:00Making Sense of a New Field: 5 Tips to Use During your Next New Job or Project<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I remember when I started my bachelor thesis and had begun to scratch the surface of a few journal articles on entrepreneurial intentions. I went to my thesis advisor asking, "Can you give me a map or flow chart or some kind of structural organization for this field?! I feel like I have no idea what the different branches of the discipline are..."<br />
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In his most patient and understanding way of putting me up for a challenge he replied, "Well, nothing like that exists. That's for you to go figure out for yourself." And then he gave me a big, knowing smile.<br />
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It wasn't an easy process, and it took about a year, but I finally got my bearings in the intentions literature. Perhaps the biggest takeaway from the entire experience is the discovery that venturing into a new field is a process, and there are specific techniques that can help me move forward while minimizing the headbanging and aimless wandering.<br />
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Here are five techniques to try as you begin your next new job or project:</h2>
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<b>1. Find the best sources:</b><br />
Find out what the most respected and authoritative sources are in the field. These are usually the places where it's most difficult to get published. Active professors generally give informed and reliable advice. <br />
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<b>2. Look for the most commonly cited authors:</b> <br />Make a list of their names, find their major publications, and map out a few of their main points/contributions to the field.<br />
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<b>3. Look at the dates:</b> <br />Sketch yourself a little timeline featuring major publications and breakthrough finding in the field.<br />
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<b>4. Tell a story:</b> <br />How could you sum up the genesis and evolution of the field in one paragraph?<br />
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<b>5. Build the house:</b> <br />Among the big thinkers, who has broken away from the discussion around the kitchen table and added on an annex to the dining room? Who's colluding in the corner with a bottle of whisky? Who's debating loudly and proudly in the sitting room? Who's quietly building a complex model train over in the corner? Who's swimming around in the deep end -- of the neighbor's pool? Every field / industry / stream of research / technology has its own "house" of key influencers; imagine a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Brother_(TV_series)">"Big Brother"</a> scenario. The research grows and expands out of conflict. The people who get heard the most are often the most eccentric. Sketching the house and its colorful residents is a fun way to bring your new intellectual surroundings / working space to life.<br />
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While I find it really helpful to go through all of these exercises on my own, they're also useful for structuring the "orientation" meeting of a group project.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Have these worked - or not worked - for you? </i><i>Visit the original post to leave your feedback in the comments.</i><i> </i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-5876291170749779002014-03-09T22:41:00.001-05:002014-03-09T22:41:49.996-05:00On the Front Lines: Changing Minds Proves More Challenging than Changing Borders & Administrations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As I read through <a href="http://geraldinebrooks.com/">Geraldine Brooks</a>' <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nine-Parts-Desire-Hidden-Islamic/dp/0385475772">Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women</a>,</i> I am continuously surprised by the riveting, intimate stories of women whom I imagine are just like me in many ways. And women whom I imagine could be good friends of mine. Women who are strong and beautiful, driven and courageous. And yet, while some of my greatest struggles are in proving the worthiness of my ideas and concepts, turning these into a profitable business that will provide for my living, these young women are often struggling to prove that they themselves are worthy of simply living as individuals with a brain and will.<br />
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This post is in honor of International Women's Day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i>Jenny Matthews/Panos</i></td></tr>
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As I continue to seek out transitional environments -- traveling to observe first-hand when I can; reading and interviewing about them when I can't -- I continue to find evidence that laws and constitutions and job titles and borders are not the biggest challenge facing those who seek progress.<br />
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Deeply ingrained cultural ideas and traditions are much, much more difficult to challenge.<br />
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The following excerpts from Brooks' <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nine-Parts-Desire-Hidden-Islamic/dp/0385475772">Nine Parts of Desire</a> </i>reflect her experiences during six years in the Middle East as a foreign correspondent for the <i><a href="http://online.wsj.com/">Wall Street Journal</a></i>. In this story out of northern Africa, we watch women fight and prove their physical equality and strength of character, then return home only to fight again -- this time against oppressive cultural traditions. Like so many of the transitional regions I've lived in, the story of Eritrea reveals that cultural and ideological walls are much more difficult to break down than walls of brick and mortar.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>In the 1960s in Eritrean villages</b>, women's position was so lowly that a wife presumed to speak to her husband only if it was absolutely necessary. From the Koran's pronouncement that menstruation is "an illness," during which women must refrain from sex and prayer, Eritrean villagers had developed a tradition of forcing menstruating women to leave their homes for a week each month and seclude themselves, day and night, in a pit reserved for the "unclean."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When war broke out with Ethiopia, a few women insisted on fighting. (...) Eritrean women joined the guerrillas because they felt they had to. (...) "At the beginning, they were needed, so there wasn't the luxury of refusing them," said Chuchu Tesfamariam, who became a fighter herself at the age of seventeen. The valor of the fighters won new respect for women in general and broke down many taboos. The Eritreans, desperately poor, had few factories. But, as a gesture to the comfort of the women fighters, they had invested some of their scarce resources in a plant to produce sanitary napkins. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Living conditions at the front line were desperately harsh. (...) Supplies had to be hauled by hand up the near-vertical rock face, work that the women shared equally with the men. Everyone slept on the ground.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The guerrillas came from a variety of backgrounds. Some, like the university-educated idealists who returned from exile to enlist, found it natural that women and men should fight together. Others, simple villagers, had difficulty adjusting to the idea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ismail Idriss, a twenty-three-year-old goatherd and a devout Muslim, had never spoken to a woman from outside his family when he suddenly found himself taking orders from one. "Women fighters I knew about from the beginning; even when I was wandering with my goats I'd seen them," Ismail explained, sunning himself on a rocky ledge during a rare break in the fighting. "But I never believed a woman could give orders to a man." Ismail's company commander was a stocky, taciturn woman of his own age named Hewit Moges, a thirteen-year veteran of front-line fighting who came from a Christian background. "Now I have seen it in practice I have had to start to accept it," he said, in a voice that still sounded hesitant about the idea. "When it's a hard climb she runs up the mountain, when it's a battle she's in front of the troops, and when someone is wounded she's the one who carries him from the field." He spread his palms and raised his shoulders in a wide shrug. "What can I say against it when I have seen such things?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>A few nights later </b>the war took a rare break for a wedding. Fighters always married in large groups; a single couple couldn't afford the traditional feast of goat meat. A young dancer dressed in a costume made of grain sacks marked "Gift of the Federal Republic of Germany" leaped and twirled across the sand, followed by 120 brides and grooms, all clad alike in the same shabby khakis they'd worn into battle shortly before. The couples paired up and held hands, waiting for their division commander to read out their names and declare them husband and wife. Each couple received a wedding certificate, produced in the fighters' underground printshop, carrying a quote from the 1977 Marriage Law stating that the union was "the free will of the two partners based on love."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I sat on the sand listening to the long list of names. (...) Muslims and Christians were marrying each other by the dozen. "It's possible that these people came from parents who were taught that you starve before you share food from the plate of someone of a different faith," said Chuchu, sitting on sand beside me. But in the trenches of this long war these young men and women had shared much more: fear, and victories, and belief in a cause. In the dark I could just make out Chuchu's profile. A sad half-smile played across her face. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Not everything that comes from war is bad," she whispered.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Not everything that comes from war is bad," she whispered.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>For once, a guerrilla movement had come to power and had not been instantly corrupted by it</b>. The movement's leaders still wore the cheap plastic sandals they'd fought in, and none of them, including the president, drew a salary. Like the other fighters, they donated their labor to the rebuilding effort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But, for the women fighters, peace had brought some unexpected disappointments. The new government offered women political participation and new legal rights, such as the right to own and inherit land. It also banned genital mutilation in hospitals, and sponsored a radio series in which both the Muslim mufti and the Christian bishop stated clearly that such practices weren't religious obligations. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Still, the traditions of the wider society outweighed the culture that had developed at the front. Suddenly, fighters had come back home to families who had spent the war under occupation by Ethiopian forces. Often, the guerrillas' progressive mores were at odds with the deeply conservative values of their parents. "Most of them respect us--they understand we lived a different way," said Rosa Kiflemariam, a thirty-three-year-old who spent eight years at the front. "But others say to us, 'That was then--this is now, and now you have to live our way.' "</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the villages, particularly, families found it difficult to accept the tough young women who were used to absolute equality, or even positions of command in military units. In those cases, families urged divorce, offering their sons young, tractable village girls as alternative wives prepared to wait on them hand and foot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To Rosa and many other women, a new struggle had just begun. "We have to fight now to make them understand that everyone has the right to live freely. It's another war, I think."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"We have to fight now to make them understand... It's another war, I think."</span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKA4m_NH1Eiyg9BFI8Vb2CKKXCBAEQoJWFzVJ1TkUUaUZpxgrJr43epZloV_RCoXTpUZ73P2bEo-HRvUUhYaD17COl9lZrsMs01foGmMxdXfLXGQJ64JNwT3qbvZyK5WHGUh4_qgPgFA/s1600/eplfwomenfighters_credit+Martin+Plaut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKA4m_NH1Eiyg9BFI8Vb2CKKXCBAEQoJWFzVJ1TkUUaUZpxgrJr43epZloV_RCoXTpUZ73P2bEo-HRvUUhYaD17COl9lZrsMs01foGmMxdXfLXGQJ64JNwT3qbvZyK5WHGUh4_qgPgFA/s1600/eplfwomenfighters_credit+Martin+Plaut.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">Eritrean women fighters. <i><a href="http://martinplaut.wordpress.com/2014/02/07/africas-bright-future/">Martin Plaut</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNoFvSn4gyGU5eG4xEbPuC_OU5yHvDlOhgmNwlDMADgR-NwuUvICVU14f7Ll8efA2sQoUt8LbtM5XdRrucrRCs5mYOqml5dx1IsCHMRRhbALm8aiXnw478dZO7zi1DtrrPn7mtXNJSTAM/s1600/EritreanGuerrillaLeapsOverDeadEthiopianSoldier_credit+Greg+Marinovich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNoFvSn4gyGU5eG4xEbPuC_OU5yHvDlOhgmNwlDMADgR-NwuUvICVU14f7Ll8efA2sQoUt8LbtM5XdRrucrRCs5mYOqml5dx1IsCHMRRhbALm8aiXnw478dZO7zi1DtrrPn7mtXNJSTAM/s1600/EritreanGuerrillaLeapsOverDeadEthiopianSoldier_credit+Greg+Marinovich.jpg" height="432" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;"><i><a href="http://www.gregmarinovich.com/BLOG/2011/10/silver-halide-martyrs-2/">Greg Marinovich</a></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqa-Utj_V01kzfilUfi0ZAIA4yTkNHoiFyu54KHjp4E6e7plOcWGDwUq1c0qYfF-6XzEiUuZKW-CYrHSHWC2c5vbWHKgRgG_mAW9Fra4CDs7bKRE3_-Epfb5XbOZJl59s_RN60juEdAWQ/s1600/Eritrean+Woman_fighter+stationed+on+the+Nafka+Front+March+1998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqa-Utj_V01kzfilUfi0ZAIA4yTkNHoiFyu54KHjp4E6e7plOcWGDwUq1c0qYfF-6XzEiUuZKW-CYrHSHWC2c5vbWHKgRgG_mAW9Fra4CDs7bKRE3_-Epfb5XbOZJl59s_RN60juEdAWQ/s1600/Eritrean+Woman_fighter+stationed+on+the+Nafka+Front+March+1998.jpg" height="640" width="496" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: right;">A woman Eritrean fighter with heavy machine gun. March 17 1998. <i><a href="http://www.ertra.com/History_pictures/offensive/48Women_fighter.htm">ertra</a></i></td></tr>
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Eritrean journalist Daniel Semere <a href="http://ternafi.wordpress.com/2014/03/06/eritrea-the-non-stop-struggle-for-emancipation/">writes</a> this week on the non-stop struggle for emancipation of Eritrean heroines, </div>
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"Although this task [of empowering and cultivating gender leadership qualities at all levels] is huge and much has been done, the greatest challenge still remains to be the difficulty of convincing people of the benefits of stopping such deeprooted practices."</h3>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-57201741639148079222014-02-20T22:51:00.000-06:002014-02-20T22:51:20.801-06:00Inter-Ideological Relationships: What's to gain?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This week my very talented friend, political life expert, prolific journalist, and well-known libertarian blogger <a href="http://www.georgescoville.com/about-george/">George Scoville</a> wrote about <a href="http://www.georgescoville.com/2014/02/valentines-day-carrie-sheffield-bipartisan-romance-relationships/?utm_source=George+Scoville%27s+Blog&utm_campaign=7cc71aa708-DAILY_RSS_TO_EMAIL_NEW&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_309fb7cb9a-7cc71aa708-211599817">his recent engagement to a member of the Democratic party</a> - and why it works.<br />
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I read the article to my family over breakfast and it got great reviews, plus spurred an interesting discussion. The essence of George's message is this:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"My instincts tell me that it's not people's specific politics that make them compatible or incompatible, but how they prioritize their politics within the order of the rest of their lives."</span></h3>
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Perhaps there is a time to shield oneself from opposing views, cultivate ties with only people who think exactly like we do, seek friends and family who are identical ideological and experiential reflections of ourselves... I know there are times when my natural first reaction to adversity was exactly this type of mindset. <div>
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But my experience has been that this type of inward-looking, support-seeking mindset is neither the healthiest nor the most productive. It doesn't inspire me to be creative; it doesn't push me to learn something new or answer the hard questions - like WHY. Why I believe something or think a certain way. Why I hold this value and not that one. And I would venture to suggest that this type of mindset probably doesn't expand your horizons, either. While George was specifically addressing romantic relationships, I'd like to broaden the discussion to include platonic ones as well.</div>
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Part of life's greatest beauty is the opportunity to explore this big wide world and all the variations of perspective and experience. There is so much to gain from stepping outside your worldview and exploring another's.</div>
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I speak from experience. </div>
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If you've known me long, you know that I am:</div>
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Politically libertarian and living in Scandinavia. Christian and lived in a Buddhist monastery. Not a "partier" but have worked in a few bars. </div>
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And that I:</div>
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Would prefer a smaller government but have worked / interned at almost every level of U.S. government. Support Israel but have a whole bunch of really great Palestinian friends. Personally wouldn't choose an LGBT lifestyle, but love and care about friends who have. <br />
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It has been a truly rewarding journey of sacrificing a little bit of my own comfort, and a lot of my own pride, in order to see the world with new eyes. I've learned that the socio-economic, political, biological, ideological climates we are born into have an effect on us. But more importantly, our own choices about how we're going to approach the world - our attitudes - are most deterministic. Do we choose to allow our assumptions to be challenged? Do we choose to participate in conversations we might not be able to "win"? There are times I took the risk, and won the respect of someone. Other times I took the risk and felt foolish when I realized my assumptions were all wrong. And there have certainly been times I chickened out, or was decidedly lazy, and missed out on learning something great.<br />
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I agree with George: It's truly about prioritizing. The means by which inter-ideological relationships flourish is a keen understanding of what each cannot compromise, a security in one's own identity, and a sincere desire to understand the other.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo: Ferrying across the Baltic Sea, April 2011, with St. Petersburg, Russia behind me.</span></i><br />
<i>I was repeatedly approached on public transportation by tourists seeking "the most Russian-looking girl they could find" in order to get bona-fide directions to local venues. I always graciously gave them, remarking, with a smile, that I'm actually American. You should have seen the looks on those faces :) </i><br />
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What keeps me traveling is the challenge of adapting to a completely new, foreign environment. I love the learning process and the fun of transforming myself into a stealthy chameleon amid a culture I'm getting to know better and better. And blending in. Because, as all seasoned travelers will tell you, it's only when you blend in - when your presence ceases to influence the behavior of those around you - that you can truly observe people in their natural habitat.<br />
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Now it's your turn to weigh in. Like George did, I'm passing the baton. What are your experiences with inter-ideological relationships?<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Medford, OR, USA42.3265152 -122.8755949000000142.138735700000005 -123.1983184 42.5142947 -122.55287140000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-8784261446407061892014-02-07T23:23:00.000-06:002014-02-08T00:01:11.304-06:00How Reviewing Your Roles Will Help You Focus & Be More Effective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>I've found in life that it's important to remember who you are. Regular reminders are key to relieving misplaced pressure and focusing on what really matters. </i><br />
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Some people are extra-talented at simplifying life; they hop out of bed and go. Focus. Attack. Accomplish.<br />
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Once upon a time that was me, and if that's your natural state of mind - way to go. But for a long time, that me seemed far away and irrecoverable. When life gets complicated - multiple jobs, juggling work, school and family... When the possibilities to do something new are endless and opportunities to reinvent yourself present themselves daily, the mind can get confused. If you find yourself occupying a few different roles simultaneously -- for instance, as a student, a mother, and an accountant -- there are days you're just going to wake up in a state of discombobulation.<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Who am I today? What really defines success for me today? Where do I need to focus my energy?</span></b></i></h3>
Your conscious mind often can't even utter those questions out loud. But they are surely there, behind the thoughts that pummel you as you try to enjoy your morning coffee... <i>Should I do that thing today or tomorrow? What errand should I run first? </i>It feels like someone is throwing rocks at you. <br />
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Like the giant <b>Tyrannical Emperor of Productivity</b> is standing over you with a sledgehammer. <i>Whack.</i> Get that press release written. <i>Whack. </i>Your brand's social media profiles are dead. <i>Whack. </i>There's nothing worse than a dead blog. <i>Whack. </i>You should have done your laundry a week ago; serves you right you have no socks on this -10 degree morning. <i>Whack. </i>You could ace that exam if you holed up and put 4 hours of undivided attention into your review tonight. <i>Whack. </i>Seriously - you don't work, you don't eat. Press release comes first. <i>Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. </i><br />
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What a way to start the day.<br />
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Ridiculous, right? And yet, it happens all too often. No wonder we go crawling to Facebook in search of a few distractions. No wonder we idolize people who are portrayed as extreme, one-dimensional versions of themselves (read: pop stars, sports heroes, industry moguls). They seem to fit so well in the context they're in. They know what to do, how to walk, how to act. They seem to have it all together. Well, it turns out no one is the perfect pop music goddess, mother, sister, fitness guru, and entrepreneurette all wrapped into one. People's increasing eagerness to broadcast bad behavior over the internet is helping the rest of the world to see it all so clearly.<br />
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Roles are one of those things in life. It can feel silly to "practice" them, and you wouldn't dream of walking into a room and stating your title, duties, and intentions for the day. And yet, THINKING these things as you walk into a room will help you get past some major brain blocks. </h4>
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Try writing out job descriptions for every role you take on. </h3>
<b>First, list your roles. </b><br />
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<li>Student</li>
<li>Entrepreneurette/Financial Professional</li>
<li>Researcher</li>
<li>Industrial Brand Manager</li>
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<b>Principle Purpose</b> is a nice opportunity to write a few paragraphs about the reason that role exists. You might also remind yourself of why you took on the role. It could be dreamy and idealistic, or down-to-earth and harshly realistic. Who are you leading? Who are you supporting? <br />
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<b>The Qualifications section</b> is a good place to boost your confidence (you're probably pretty qualified for your roles), and it's also helpful for setting personal growth goals in the places you see you could be a better _________.<br />
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<b>Duties</b> <b>& Responsibilities</b> is where it's at for me. In addition to listing everything I am responsible for, I list the things I'm NOT responsible for and should stop worrying about. <br />
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<b>Relationships to Nurture. </b>So what if the receptionist butchers your name and just can't wrap his head around your product. You're not selling to the receptionist. General etiquette and politesse is nice, but sometimes you just can't worry too much about the people who don't factor into your role. When you have limited time at work, build up the relationships that really matter for work. If the receptionist coaches your kid's soccer team.... well, nurture that relationship on the field, when you're "mom".<br />
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<b>Key Success Factors </b>can be a bulleted list of the 3-5 things that matter most -- both in the long run and for today. These are your key words to memorize. When you're feeling under pressure to perform or nursing a faceplant you took on one of your projects (or literally nursing a faceplant after tripping over your toddler's toy truck), the key success factors will help you sum up what you should be doing and why.<br />
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In this land-of-a-million-apps, </h3>
you have tons of different ways to remind yourself of who you are. I keep my <a href="https://www.bible.com/app">Bible app</a> on my phone's homescreen to remind me of who I am for eternity. And for all my major roles, I have Word docs or <a href="https://evernote.com/">Evernote</a> notes saved on my laptop and also accessible via my phone. En route to a big negotiation or presentation is always a good time to review those. When stress and deadlines and confusion creep up, you'll be glad you have these job descriptions - to remind you what you <b>can </b>do, but also to remind to you relax because their are limits to what you <b>must</b><i> </i>do. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Medford, OR, USA42.3265152 -122.8755949000000142.138735700000005 -123.1983184 42.5142947 -122.55287140000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-56828560567021078142014-01-13T00:08:00.000-06:002014-01-13T00:08:15.220-06:00Expedition à la West Coast USA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Coming home to Oregon is always an adventure. It never ceases to amaze me, how quickly my four brothers and my sister grow and change. It's awesome to see them growing into their beautiful and unique personalities, exploring different passions and hobbies, and developing such a great sense of humor. Laughter unites.<br />
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And every time I come back - which is certainly not often enough - I always wonder how I could have forgotten the beauty of the Rogue Valley and its surroundings.... Mountain trails, serene lakes, grassy plains, pine forests, sandy beaches, rocky coastlines... we have it all! <br />
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We like to dabble a little in a lot of different outdoorsy things. This past month has been a lot of fun as we show my Finnish friend Sini around the West Coast. We met in Helsinki and - after spending a lot of time together playing soccer, relaxing in her family's summer cabin, and hanging out with friends this summer - she moved to work in Toronto this autumn just days after I left on business to the US. Perfect timing to catch up in North America over the holidays, and we've had so much fun welcoming her to our family Christmas and taking her on LOTS of mini family vacations. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">New Year's Morning in Eureka, northern California - with my sister Tori & friend Sini</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFZLTRRXwAMf9109xMXYpl8WqZSANZZ0K8eIdIJDSyxsNhpNbzmCP7g8n-Xv8hdkiB7SxQHsJA6OatqXQy_485NIRswxZUH_EUyeLmuMR9Ro6cxqAq49-w36N0p6lNNXNlWUJWVXE0pY/s1600/P1170040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglFZLTRRXwAMf9109xMXYpl8WqZSANZZ0K8eIdIJDSyxsNhpNbzmCP7g8n-Xv8hdkiB7SxQHsJA6OatqXQy_485NIRswxZUH_EUyeLmuMR9Ro6cxqAq49-w36N0p6lNNXNlWUJWVXE0pY/s1600/P1170040.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">It's not so often you have the opportunity to get up close and personal with a wild boar. "Oaky", adopted by our friends, is such a sweetie. Talk about someone in need of a deep-moisture hair conditioning treatment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCC8WHN6rT9TWhBdiiUkLVRpgS3qP2TGmRh0Jc-kTfcf5SD0eTz-K2y6fdZ4v2zBcDALkMs02vyYeZXWrZYa4TRsyc9IbpI9lhOMaFfj0o_H5f6sh76bXjyWYWwc6R4ItoyTySeVOSV4A/s1600/P1170050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCC8WHN6rT9TWhBdiiUkLVRpgS3qP2TGmRh0Jc-kTfcf5SD0eTz-K2y6fdZ4v2zBcDALkMs02vyYeZXWrZYa4TRsyc9IbpI9lhOMaFfj0o_H5f6sh76bXjyWYWwc6R4ItoyTySeVOSV4A/s1600/P1170050.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Just north of Moonstone Beach on Highway 101 </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOlYdzPI6WuuW-dEFf6xubFQurofee4RXKRKI0kURWGvpY3ODVE83yI_Tl6X18UB1WE980HjqrXd6tAZIGJSM7LknBQu6F2jouGY9CzA1RlcXf4fb8rt7grkgyCoceCSzIhF6fuRFNKFg/s1600/P1170071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOlYdzPI6WuuW-dEFf6xubFQurofee4RXKRKI0kURWGvpY3ODVE83yI_Tl6X18UB1WE980HjqrXd6tAZIGJSM7LknBQu6F2jouGY9CzA1RlcXf4fb8rt7grkgyCoceCSzIhF6fuRFNKFg/s1600/P1170071.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8Lp0C26dxy2kQ2IC512VlWupmruyvUP3O9TD-lAvWZvXgopZ41duqDzxcITkRm5N18Gj8l6lNSHtbHDLeo3ipoqg-3dlBWKFjXshaFQROdDCPfBQE1eg_GB0O1mgvEf8dwtt8s36E38/s1600/P1170064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR8Lp0C26dxy2kQ2IC512VlWupmruyvUP3O9TD-lAvWZvXgopZ41duqDzxcITkRm5N18Gj8l6lNSHtbHDLeo3ipoqg-3dlBWKFjXshaFQROdDCPfBQE1eg_GB0O1mgvEf8dwtt8s36E38/s1600/P1170064.JPG" height="176" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><i>(remember: you can launch a full-screen slideshow by clicking on any photo. This one's worth it!)</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOkyZQ8rONh3pqXUSoLcdDhZuiOsNXAvg_vaVTQX4jjK-mIaDU5qBccaafGvyFfsnP9BrFCn7G5WOaJMLt1IYSlh5zkDH5Y0vttUN3WD9vvMUSbUsAYIfuKC1vqI53ZwEigQC4vDP_Xs/s1600/P1170079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfOkyZQ8rONh3pqXUSoLcdDhZuiOsNXAvg_vaVTQX4jjK-mIaDU5qBccaafGvyFfsnP9BrFCn7G5WOaJMLt1IYSlh5zkDH5Y0vttUN3WD9vvMUSbUsAYIfuKC1vqI53ZwEigQC4vDP_Xs/s1600/P1170079.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">A crisp, sunny afternoon in Central Point, Oregon - looking across the Rogue Valley toward Roxy Ann Peak</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWHNE_BKMK_7HM09kGjpeIJOIypEkCy0GP_6EqSeH0W2B9TN_HASKrUiLSEEzYy5SaLqKSlnfg4I5K9yNvbf53-gcgSGjJmkfD-19lQ012gnxjQIrYueczPPwc5MYhuNDgpSI7SWe20s/s1600/P1170080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWHNE_BKMK_7HM09kGjpeIJOIypEkCy0GP_6EqSeH0W2B9TN_HASKrUiLSEEzYy5SaLqKSlnfg4I5K9yNvbf53-gcgSGjJmkfD-19lQ012gnxjQIrYueczPPwc5MYhuNDgpSI7SWe20s/s1600/P1170080.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_f99_KI9izNU0EndcdszhILUK8r_pnxKeV7BZSUnWxsZIV_087Aw8VM4zNCSz4mw_J8lFbPbnQqTDgPF28Ge6vOKr2WgNkNCdzCcjd3fM2i1xd2z1_ybCpvVeRcz7edfrYPubokMH3Q/s1600/P1170090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_f99_KI9izNU0EndcdszhILUK8r_pnxKeV7BZSUnWxsZIV_087Aw8VM4zNCSz4mw_J8lFbPbnQqTDgPF28Ge6vOKr2WgNkNCdzCcjd3fM2i1xd2z1_ybCpvVeRcz7edfrYPubokMH3Q/s1600/P1170090.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">There's something beautiful about rust on an abandoned, weathered forklift.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCYYjgyYgV_73kwSisfomx2866YLDDTUIg7ZtFMeKjjdshmV_Eb9ZBdu29XUhbetus75sxYWicUu87VTiuTz4U7SCD4xjHt1EHKFeVuYXqSjBqidF5nPjDShFRmuTZv1mgbvNNt55YaE/s1600/P1170193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCYYjgyYgV_73kwSisfomx2866YLDDTUIg7ZtFMeKjjdshmV_Eb9ZBdu29XUhbetus75sxYWicUu87VTiuTz4U7SCD4xjHt1EHKFeVuYXqSjBqidF5nPjDShFRmuTZv1mgbvNNt55YaE/s1600/P1170193.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The mud ponds in White City, Oregon call out for some good old puddle jumpin'.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuME2eZcyZyF5bDcdxgkbuTZU9CB0ywhR-YEsJPCWOQ7QUme2JHhyye0Jzf0WeQr4vUoJ0nakWlItpGP6lQjv6FV6PVRGtZ4HgBOsyI07Q-MiuS-fE1_qt5EafdSbX88XxgFdMjjisOE/s1600/P1170127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEuME2eZcyZyF5bDcdxgkbuTZU9CB0ywhR-YEsJPCWOQ7QUme2JHhyye0Jzf0WeQr4vUoJ0nakWlItpGP6lQjv6FV6PVRGtZ4HgBOsyI07Q-MiuS-fE1_qt5EafdSbX88XxgFdMjjisOE/s1600/P1170127.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My brother Chason prefers crawlin' in custom modified monster trucks. Sometimes he takes his sisters for rides, much to our delight :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZV9Z2mgIM__5XiOq5gBJ6qJp4zldiPwTVHOojJTI9FUQe10gRyyHUJUDfmvdG-Sm0KnYciEADH0Nm54bVDVC7-bo0y8rNzr8JKGTPoIZHTNoNag3XY0neiKSHair5KEZmmZJvP0iQLY/s1600/P1170150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZV9Z2mgIM__5XiOq5gBJ6qJp4zldiPwTVHOojJTI9FUQe10gRyyHUJUDfmvdG-Sm0KnYciEADH0Nm54bVDVC7-bo0y8rNzr8JKGTPoIZHTNoNag3XY0neiKSHair5KEZmmZJvP0iQLY/s1600/P1170150.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRVEfdJPRjVMUaK2ssY-uAk7Z8-GXtEjAgV53XyWB5_QqazJLicgVKY8Rquc1DliQgHwzSojlrU9bGcpaInm9b7qm8q-0CS5Ug8-B9q7iIr1X3F332OBqlFoo6mGo42nSUMUk4YcLzdw/s1600/P1170153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRVEfdJPRjVMUaK2ssY-uAk7Z8-GXtEjAgV53XyWB5_QqazJLicgVKY8Rquc1DliQgHwzSojlrU9bGcpaInm9b7qm8q-0CS5Ug8-B9q7iIr1X3F332OBqlFoo6mGo42nSUMUk4YcLzdw/s1600/P1170153.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Chase and Sini, ready for another go 'round.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VDF6kuRy70EgYbqT5Nru4J2iSKs50QYhDlmLCzSuSSltCGIzKB-jlTcvZN6VmvBztYE7jNcCzdm6l2VQwjzWdJatfBQK3Qe2ZYsCyVen9P5pWiK8-n6yHQpP30W6soIDnGCk5BLZAqs/s1600/P1170172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1VDF6kuRy70EgYbqT5Nru4J2iSKs50QYhDlmLCzSuSSltCGIzKB-jlTcvZN6VmvBztYE7jNcCzdm6l2VQwjzWdJatfBQK3Qe2ZYsCyVen9P5pWiK8-n6yHQpP30W6soIDnGCk5BLZAqs/s1600/P1170172.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Who ever said men don't stop for directions?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqSYcaT_R3UHs_twAIGwwseK-8PWtBu2k1oJQ8PbrzlJRdQWk_4TbGDsRsrA12ltkQClF2Ya7Fi9XW1t4G9gVOj37knK-i2RZtO8Jy9DJsdpNiO7xHdSaqeX6-Qz5WY63C5s5DWGmDj4/s1600/P1170183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqSYcaT_R3UHs_twAIGwwseK-8PWtBu2k1oJQ8PbrzlJRdQWk_4TbGDsRsrA12ltkQClF2Ya7Fi9XW1t4G9gVOj37knK-i2RZtO8Jy9DJsdpNiO7xHdSaqeX6-Qz5WY63C5s5DWGmDj4/s1600/P1170183.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Fat tread = fat tracks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QTo1VvKcwmS6gM_njn8aYysKVF9zb8RiXYkuUBYZxq_IV7pnCs-SYOf3Q18E2EC6CDSBUilDcCvdeFfyzG2hLEUQx1yonsGwHAc8q5oJsXG9CVKZYS6Ou9yoDGvCV63f94eJ1hYQUdg/s1600/P1170216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QTo1VvKcwmS6gM_njn8aYysKVF9zb8RiXYkuUBYZxq_IV7pnCs-SYOf3Q18E2EC6CDSBUilDcCvdeFfyzG2hLEUQx1yonsGwHAc8q5oJsXG9CVKZYS6Ou9yoDGvCV63f94eJ1hYQUdg/s1600/P1170216.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Rainy day target practice at Salt Creek</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My brother Cole will start gunsmithing school next year. Meanwhile, we have a private instructor.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Ear protection, target selection.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0yFI97ZQnATsD0HhPhB6T_NOjPvnWSUQ-QCvb4KSWk6VAPFmdn_c1B-gWsurTDucxgW3cbbInkARmNoTKET42QvQTxFwbR3yEb2LIBXdURqSjyFhB6JWfFpd4A_fo3GPpozgwMtNFLY/s1600/P1170260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0yFI97ZQnATsD0HhPhB6T_NOjPvnWSUQ-QCvb4KSWk6VAPFmdn_c1B-gWsurTDucxgW3cbbInkARmNoTKET42QvQTxFwbR3yEb2LIBXdURqSjyFhB6JWfFpd4A_fo3GPpozgwMtNFLY/s1600/P1170260.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">parental supervision :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV7KO1HTA5u9qruPG3hNzaefAwjwRGuSa9_AX3dDPD9cc-FAZREc3wwYbyqBB5yhipYwbKdBrxUv82nGuuB0idFQYsEkC4Li-BtwfOi005TeQpumvtaWUIubVFqfbuRgbcSKDsfjB1TQ/s1600/P1170266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXV7KO1HTA5u9qruPG3hNzaefAwjwRGuSa9_AX3dDPD9cc-FAZREc3wwYbyqBB5yhipYwbKdBrxUv82nGuuB0idFQYsEkC4Li-BtwfOi005TeQpumvtaWUIubVFqfbuRgbcSKDsfjB1TQ/s1600/P1170266.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Ninja gear</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HhXyFNCLdnhfMDReR8W4zrOkMe7nV-gcPTLdrQo3_oh7TeJMrHn1_DwspDZHYhOP-8ZzHDNwxDMvfehxHAn5co8X88rWp8JjvA0EwQrdsIAPOmz_YnZ8TgA-K_7T0KmP-IqQiruVo7E/s1600/P1170269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8HhXyFNCLdnhfMDReR8W4zrOkMe7nV-gcPTLdrQo3_oh7TeJMrHn1_DwspDZHYhOP-8ZzHDNwxDMvfehxHAn5co8X88rWp8JjvA0EwQrdsIAPOmz_YnZ8TgA-K_7T0KmP-IqQiruVo7E/s1600/P1170269.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sometime during the past few years I've started to get a bit jumpy around firearms. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the past few landmine rich countries I've been traveling in... Nevertheless, it was time to get behind the gun again in a low-stress environment and learn some more about how these things work. Knowledge is power! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckjNlgQyR4fJCjOOg1j9QlFWlV7V7M2w3adbZxeOkWQspySUCalplgeIXjXFu6c-eevZS_bN87gOjCUYKvawOQ7SAKaio7K0-c4CL6WLBtTMp0qUoGLlcBga6GEH8okuFdibOyL3_CTc/s1600/P1170272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckjNlgQyR4fJCjOOg1j9QlFWlV7V7M2w3adbZxeOkWQspySUCalplgeIXjXFu6c-eevZS_bN87gOjCUYKvawOQ7SAKaio7K0-c4CL6WLBtTMp0qUoGLlcBga6GEH8okuFdibOyL3_CTc/s1600/P1170272.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">That's my sharpshooting mama!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">After many years of exploring other countries, their people and cultures, only now have I come to realize what a rich, unique culture I was raised in. It seems I've spent enough time away to look at "home" with new eyes and to truly appreciate things I've always taken for granted. Like road trips. Roads long enough to warrant a trip. Refrigerators big enough to hold all your groceries for the week. Fresh deer meat. Barbecue sauce. Unmanicured forests. Shooting guns after church. The fact that much of the population steps foot into a church on any given weekend. Animals in the house (and chickens in their own house out the back door). Mountains on the horizon. Makeup not mandatory - not even expected. The annual expedition to hunt and gather one's own Christmas tree from the forest. Drive-thru coffee kiosks. Dinner table discussions where religion and politics are the main course. Potlucks. Costco. Homegrown (mom-grown) lemons, tomatoes, avocados, peppers, cabbage, apples, etc. First real jobs at 13, 14 years old. Freedom that comes with a driver's license at age 16. School sports. Five cars in the driveway (if one of them isn't yours, at least your odds of getting a ride are pretty good). A garage full of randomly acquired skis, snowboards, skidoo, snowmobile, jet boat, river raft, tents, hiking boots, bear-proof food containers, and a giant tub of all-weather gear in every possible size... that all gets used EVERY YEAR. <br /><br />I didn't even know how good we had it. This place is awesome!</span></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Medford, OR, USA42.3265152 -122.8755949000000142.138735700000005 -123.1983184 42.5142947 -122.55287140000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1943763431293909770.post-33484432161647915762013-12-18T20:29:00.002-06:002013-12-18T20:31:59.429-06:00Food for Thought / Thought-full Food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tonight I peeled an orange and there was a little bitty orange growing inside. Two for the price of one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tfyo0SwzuZ_g-4YH2hH4ET5YaWrjW1_mwDG8JXkalcUwvtCkDQPRO8LHPG8NVEx1S9TQjwRTobvE67Ydw6Yhb_0-Dyv9jlQqydw4tAGtXWMx28S-2cYGqId1lbBQU4BmcF7DCDR7CwQ/s1600/6197917292_31c70ed434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tfyo0SwzuZ_g-4YH2hH4ET5YaWrjW1_mwDG8JXkalcUwvtCkDQPRO8LHPG8NVEx1S9TQjwRTobvE67Ydw6Yhb_0-Dyv9jlQqydw4tAGtXWMx28S-2cYGqId1lbBQU4BmcF7DCDR7CwQ/s200/6197917292_31c70ed434.jpg" width="200" /></a>I said to him, "Woah there, little guy, you're in over your head." <br />
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And then I realized that this is precisely the place I love to be in life. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>In over my head. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>WAY in over my head.</b></span></div>
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What an opportunity! </div>
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Anything can happen. <br />
So much to learn. </div>
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Can't eat, can't sleep, </div>
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so excited about something new </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to explore.<br />
to conquer.</div>
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<br />
Expect the unexpected.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Welcome the uninvited.<br />
Cherish the novelty.<br />
Soon it won't be the mystery red-brick path,<br />
it'll be the way you always go to work.<br />
Soon it won't be the silky smooth olive-colored Grand Central Station motif,<br />
it'll just be the metro card at the bottom of your purse.</div>
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Have you noticed how 'new' quickly becomes 'old'?<br />
Maybe you fight to keep some things feeling new.<br />
Maybe you move on to find newer.<br />
Some things get better with age.<br />
But it's easy to be comfortable around old things,</div>
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around familiar things.<br />
And that is dangerous.</div>
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Many of the most comfortable times in my life<br />
have been the biggest let-downs,<br />
have been the least inspired,<br />
have been a downward spiral toward apathy.</div>
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I would venture to say that the most uncomfortable times of my life<br />
have been the happiest,<br />
most adventurous, most memorable<br />
most growth-filled, most rewarding,<br />
have forced me to look for help outside myself<br />
to engage with others, to share with others<br />
best investments of my time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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I was reminded this week that </div>
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If you're not in over your head, consider diving in.<br />
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Funny how all this was inspired by a little orange.<br />
He was food for thought, after all.</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2