the3six5

You have to give up some things. Or rather some habits which may include people. The friend who makes plans and cancels? Yes, I deleted her. The colleague who complains with ceasing? Starting avoiding him. Endless social media stalking of strangers I wouldn’t talk to in person? Only if I’m stuck in line somewhere.

Moving your life so that what you love comes out of the margins into the center is excruciating because most of the people around you gave up along the way. You have to give up sleep; not as a lifestyle, but if needed. Skip a television episode or even a whole season. Movie money pays for a consultant.

To be a winner, sometimes you have to be a loser. During the in-between time, when you’re neither winning or losing, perfecting a dedicated practice, of 10,000 hours, you will be lonely.

I took a leap when I finished courses for my PhD and moved to another city, one that was more nurturing of my South Asian identity. Once there, I found out about a campus in Qatar, a country in the Middle East, a part of the world I had been curious about for some years. In 2005, I moved to the capital city, Doha, got married in 2006, had a baby in 2010, finished my PhD, changed jobs three times, moved house four, and published twelve books.

In each moment, at decision time, I was standing at the edge, looking over my shoulder, wondering if I could back down and take the easy way. But because loneliness’ twin, fear, was a familiar companion, I leapt. And I keep leaping. With each bound you get closer to the center, to being fully in control instead of being controlled.

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About the Author: 

Mohanalakshmi is the modern mother, writer and scholar. Trying to do it all but not all at once. Published 5 e-books. Told you she's been busy. http://www.mohanalakshmi.com

I love them.  Attention to detail is one of the things that makes me good at my job, one of the reasons my family is able to keep on-track and one of the things that has made today run smoothly. 

I work in theatre, so Monday is usually my day off.  Today, however, has been consumed with big and small tasks, including a trip to the dentist, getting my son packed and dropped off for a week at his grandparents' house, and getting my husband and myself packed for a week away at a workshop. 

Planning around deadlines, the weather and other people's schedules is seldom easy, so I've become a master list-maker.   This has come in handy today in a big way.  There is currently a personal master list, complete with subcategories, and a work master list, complete with color-coded boxes denoting which person on my staff has been delegated which duties. It feels good to check things off my lists. I smile to myself as the "to-dos" get checked off, and the "done" category grows. 

Tomorrow, I start a project with artists from coast-to-coast, all coming together to "birth" four new plays.  Soon, we'll have everything in place for each of our rehearsal spaces, each box on the four separate lists checked off, each room ready for the week. 

People laugh sometimes at the fact that I can remember the phone number of my dorm room from my freshman year of college or that I rarely forget a name, face or conversation. In my job, though, being able to recall those details at will is the most valuable resource I have.  My family is amused that I'd rather receive post-its than candy for Christmas, that I literally squeal aloud upon receiving the "right" kind of pencil.  But it's all about the details. 

The details are what make me.

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About the Author:

Jen Lane is a mom, wife, food-lover and stage manager living in Alabama.  Follow her musings at Hey, Y'all, Food Lush or @jennelsonlane. 

You have to love nationally imposed holidays. 

I'm just being facetious. This is one of the few that really matter, and for reasons I shouldn't have to explain.

This Mother's Day I thought about the influence my mother has had on me. Pretty profound, I'd say.

I think the world of my father, but my mother was the one who raised me day-to-day. As I went shopping for gifts, I couldn't help but think about her style, her esthetic, the way she designed the house, the clothes she put on my back, the books she put in front of me, the easels we painted on, the early writing we did, and of course, all the gentle care that went into it. 

She was and is an artist, really. Motherhood is one of the greatest forms of art.

I found myself in an antique furniture shop -- with all sorts of interesting trinkets and knickknacks and novelties and what have you -- and my eyes centered on this one piece: A beautiful tree sculpture. One of those natural, amazing wood formations crafted by God on a beach somewhere, just waiting to be discovered and repurposed. 

Sinuous, mysterious, distending and colorful, it reminded me of the complexities of our life, and all the things we had to look forward to, and still do. 

 I bought it and shuttled it over to her house using a buddy's car (he has a big SUV). 

Right now, it's late morning and she's out for a walk. When she gets back and she gets over the sheer size of it, I think she's really going to like it. 

I think she's going to see our life together, on display, in the middle of her living room. How fun.

Happy Mother's Day, mom ;)

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About the Author: 
Gunther Sonnenfeld is an entrepreneur, investor and social technologist. You can follow him at A Literacy of the Imaginationor @goonth. 

I could not have predicted how much my life would change when I started volunteering at the local animal shelter in January. My husband and I wanted a dog for a while, and I'd hoped the experience would get it out of my system. But, its done the exact opposite. Today we woke up at 5 a. m. to tend to 3 cats, 2 geckos, 3 hermit crabs, 3 urban chickens and the two most recent family additions - a 1 year old pit bull and 12 week old boxer lab mix puppy, so we could load the car with people and accessories - snacks, crate, bowl, treats, blanket, leashes, pick up a rescue dog named Iggy from the kennel, and head to a local adoption event.

As I sat there on 'rescue row' and watched dog after dog parade past with yellow 'adopt me' kerchiefs, I was filled with mixed emotions. Happiness for the amazing people who care enough to rescue these beautiful creatures, and deep sadness for the animals themselves. Sadness that we have a throw away society that thinks even living, loving creatures are disposable. That on the day before mother's day I am reminded there are millions of dogs forced to be moms to litter after litter of pups that may never find homes because their humans were too lazy to spay or neuter

Sadness that dogs whose stories are of being left to starve, being beaten, forced to fight, covered in fleas that ate them till their flesh was raw and chained till their collars embedded in their necks, can still love so freely.

In typical fashion Cleveland TV celebrity, Dick Goddard, was there lending a hand to pets in need. He did surprise me when during the event costume contest he declared a dog as 'bad ass.' 

The biggest highlight was learning that nearly 40 dogs and several cats found forever homes today, where they will hopefully have love, happiness and a sense of security. 

For each one adopted, another sits in a kennel waiting for their turn. As I head home, my thinking turns to how to help more dogs get adopted at the next event.

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About the Author:

Charity Herb Katz is a wife and mom to a variety pack of finned, feathered & furry kids. Follow her at flipflopgirl.com or @charityherb

We drove into Atlanta after school to spend some time at the Georgia Aquarium. Along the way we played a road-trip game, in which we tried to find the letters of the alphabet on signs and license plates. There was quite a bit of time between the letters 'P' and 'Q', so we chatted about his school, or my work. When he asked me what the word 'motivation' meant, I did my best to explain. I'm not sure how I did.

I recently realized how intently he watches my interactions with other people, and how he tries to mimic those actions. This realization left me feeling both proud and scared out of my wits, all at the same time. These are the moments I can't help but question if the the effort I put into this experience has been worth his time, or if it adds any real value to his life. I know what it's done for me.

As we take our exit into Atlanta, I'm the first to spot the letter 'Q' on a billboard for the aquarium. Much noise erupts within the car, as we realize the abundance of letters on the billboard and try to quickly call out letters 'R' through 'V'  before the other one does.

At the aquarium, I watched my little brother's eyes light up as we enter the lobby. For a moment I thought he was about to abandon me in all of his excitement. Instead, he surprised me by turning around and throwing his arms around my waist.  "I love you," he said, as effortlessly as if it wasn't the first time he'd said this to me.

Yeah, it's been worth every second.

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About the Author:

Peter Combs is a husband, writer, and foster care survivor. He blogs at http://petercombs.wordpress.com and tweets @petercombs 

 The bus ride to my campus was uneventful, but when I got off at my stop and walked down the road, I saw a cat. A cat! A black one with white and orange patches! This immediately put a huge smile on my face. I cannot describe just how excited this made me, simply because there aren’t many felines here. I’m not used to it, having five cats back home. Honestly, I’ve petted more kangaroos here than I’ve seen cats.

It’s a good thing my Thursday digital design class is also my favourite, or I’d resent it for being so early in the morning. We worked on our postage stamp assignments while the tutor complained how he could have done a better job with the logo of this year’s Olympics. Coincidentally, the 2012 Olympics torch was kindled today. Wouldn’t have realised if he hadn’t mentioned it.

After lunch, I got 115 photos developed of my time here in Adelaide, three months’ worth. There are a few snapshots from home too. Friends and family I left behind. I’ve been missing them, and maybe that’s why I’ve been dreaming of home so much. I told my Mama about wanting to develop photos and she lamented how she never sees developed photos anymore – my sister and I keep storing photos away in our computers, occasionally sharing them on Facebook.

Now I find myself discussing with my sister about what she wants to do for Mama on Mother’s Day. It feels strange to be far away at this time, not being able to physically help her with her plans; this is the sacrifice you make when you decide to experience studying overseas. For now, I just hope my dreams tonight will be filled with cats.  

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About the Author:

A 21 year old with a love for cats, platypuses, drawing and comic books. I post doodles I find worthy on my deviantArt account.

 It was still early when I arrived at the polytunnel, our modern-day greenhouse set on the hillside above the village. The only sound was the low coo of a dove from the wild wood behind. Stepping through the doors, I left behind the drizzly chill and entered a hot, fragrant, mulchy world, heady with growth. Peas curled around canes, broad beans flowered and aubergine seedlings peeped through the soil, testing the air. Inside this arch of plastic, local people have found a way to grow their own food, come rain, shine or, indeed, gale. 

 I checked my bed. Slugs had feasted on the green beans, and something, a mouse perhaps, had nibbled my mange-tout. I soaked the soil – I could almost hear the plants drink up the water – and harvested some baby spinach leaves and peppery rocket. The first of my radishes slipped out of the soil, ruby red with a long white tail. I whiled away a few happy hours, weeding and planting, enjoying the peace, the space to think and the feel of the soft warm soil in my hands. 

The school bell rang and children’s chatter echoed in the still air. It was 10.30am and time, alas, to get on with the day. On the way home, the man on the radio talked about Greece and France, the Eurozone crisis, austerity or growth. I tried to engage, but my mind was too busy with cabbages and cauliflowers, kale and cucumbers; with a community beginning to feed, to fuel, itself again.

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About the Author:

A year ago today, Eve MacFarlane moved to the west coast of Scotland to live off the land(ish), find wild places and write. She blogs at westcoastings.wordpress.com

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“What’s your name?”

“Farmer One. What’s your name?”

“Pig One.”

These simple sentences are the zenith of the third graders’ English at the school where I teach in Dresden. Today we are acting out the three little pigs: I say a line, the students repeat it, and then I tell them what it means so they can act it out. There’s a beautiful delay between when the kids say, “I have some bricks!” and when they pretend to hold bricks by sagging their arms and buckling their knees.

As I teach, I think about Aidan, who I angered by calling his essay about Emily Dickinson pompous. He’s my only friend, so I was happy when he sent me a bouquet of Dickinson’s poems that reference flowers, like ancient lilacs and a window filled with a permanent rainbow. Aidan thinks Dickinson is afraid of dying and losing the beauty of the world; I think that the transient radiance of a hyacinth rainbow is a perfect metaphor for the way that we, dying, live: defiantly displaying our beauty and never quite believing that we could be anything but eternal.

I think about how Nora, my niece, doesn’t yet have the words to describe the fleeting, chaotic beauty of experience, and how Neil, when a butterfly landed next to him, said that “it just seemed to delight in opening and closing its wings and just actually being beautiful for that period of time.” I look at the tissue paper roses that I have in a waterless vase on my window: they won’t live and they won’t die.

Lily’s text says “Maurice Sendak.” I know that he’s gone and I imagine a boat sailing in and out of weeks and through a day. I think back to the last time I heard him, when he said, “I cry a lot because people die and I can’t stop them. It’s like a dream life, but, you know, there’s something I am finding out as I’m aging: that I am in love with the world.”

And I sit on the banks of the Elbe and the water is always rushing away but the river never leaves me, and I am calm.

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About the Author:

Dan Gray is an American writer living in Germany. He posts at yabottherobot.com, & may not have a byline again: Hi Family, Hi Friends, Hi Lily.

Monday mornings tend to bring worry about tasks that need to be completed, people that need to be visited, and how the heck I am going to get it all done?

I’m waiting to hear about a job and should learn today whether or not I’ll move to the next round of interviews. A knot of anxiety that has been lingering in my stomach, temporarily staunched by the whirlwind weekend, is back in full force this morning. I also need to take one more photo to share with in my photography class tomorrow evening. The simple directive that the photo should include grass has led to a creative block and resulted in a collection of images NOT containing grass. Really? Pull it together. It’s grass for crying out loud.

I am meeting a friend this evening at Berkeley Ironworks to rock climb and am slightly nervous. I was half way up a wall last week when some schmuck smashed my passenger window and stole my tote and phone. It could have been a million times worse. My laptop and other valuables were still safely in the trunk. The phone can be replaced. But the tote? That was a discontinued, leather handled LLBean that I purchased off of Craiglist from a woman in Michigan for $15. And had her ship to California. I’ve tried to keep a positive attitude but am still slightly unnerved by the vandalism that occurred at a place I spend so much of my time.

If I can just make it past today the rest of my week should be a walk in the park. So here’s hoping I get to the top of the mountain.

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About the Author:

Emily lives in the sunny (but perpetually cold) Bay Area with her husband and cat. She enjoys spending her free time writing, climbing, and horseback riding. Read more about her adventures at www.emisagem.com.

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Bio: I’m Stephanie, a 27 year-old Ph.D student living in Iowa. My passion is helping children in the child welfare/ juvenile justice systems.