The beginning of the end

It's just about that time of the year again. The part where you take a step back and evaluate the meaning of these minutes that have come to fill the spaces in between January and December. I have to admit I kind of considered shooting past this post in attempts of avoiding being too cliche, but in the end decided that there are enough times in my life where I don't sit down to appreciate what I have and where I'm going for fear of being mundane and there's no reason to be ashamed that I follow an established benchmark of progress. So here I sit.

It didn't hit me until the way home just how much has happened this year. I think back to last New Years and Ruby's drunk escapade at Ashley's in Bellingham and I can hardly believe it is the same person let alone year. This year I graduated university, I traveled the Mediterranean, I moved halfway across the world and sidestepped a major life plan for the first time in my life--following a whim that had no other explanation other than it felt right to do. And all along the way I've met amazing people who have helped to open up and own who I am, and who hopefully I have been able to touch in return. Not to mention, I successfully completed my new years resolution of keeping up with this blog. Overall, I feel pretty proud.

But I know I'm far from being over. If there's anything this year, these friends, these loves, these places have taught me is that I am only human and far from being a perfect one. That there is so much work still left for me to be done, and while that is scary and hard and oftentimes too much for me to swallow I know I have to keep on trying. Because there is no one who is going to do it for me and if there is a reason for my unhappiness it is because I'm not fighting for it. Because I haven't taken these moments to step back and value what I have in my life to its fullest extent.

It's been hard this holiday season as I focused a lot on myself and how the season should measure up to my ridiculous expectations, sometimes at the expense of actually feeling Christmastime joy. And now I sit here and think I wish I gave more, I wish I said more. I wish I called more, I wish I loved more, I wish I bought less. But most of all I wish that I had stopped thinking about myself and being away from culture and home and more on how blessed I truly am and owning the decisions I make, realizing home is a place I can take and make wherever I am in the world. Because too often I forget to tell myself how much I love my life. How happy I really am. And it's times like this that I am reminded of the steps still left to be taken in my progress.

I'm so blessed. Truly, I wish I shed more tears over how thankful I was for my health, for my friends, for sustaining health, for my family, for the fact that I can come home to a warm house and people who love me. And I'm thankful for all of the privilege that I don't even realize I have sometimes and take for granted, like being able to travel and gain higher education. Sometimes I feel I need to see those sentences in writing just so I know they are real.

And so I sit here on this last day of the year, writing a post that hasn't decided whether it would rather wear a party hat or an apology draped over its head. And maybe that's what this liminal space of New Years Eve is supposed to be--a mix of the two. A realization of our limitations and faults, and a promise to do better. A spirit of awe and love for what tools we do have to work with, and a plan to continue to progress. And most of all a thankfulness in our heart for all that we have.

But this isn't a place to dwell. This isn't a place to build a home on a foundation of "I wish I" and "What ifs." It's a place for me to sit myself down and be happy. Be healthy. Be loved. Be everything that I already am and have with a full consciousness about it. To try better, to be better. To be actively engaged in living life for the sole purpose of being born into it and trying to make that statement as loud, proud, and full of vitality as possible. This is a place to celebrate what I have done and use that momentum and confidence to make life for me and others around me even better.

So this is my synthesis of this reflection and resolution space: I love who I am. And I love that in a year I will look  back and hopefully still love the person that I am. And I hope that I will always continue to write down these lessons and experiences to remind me of that journey and of the path still left to walk.

Happy New Year, friends.

Warm Christmas Kindergarten Fuzzies

For the past month in my kindergarten classes we have been practicing a simplified version of 'A Christmas Carol' as written by my colleague Alina. These past few weeks have been chill/hectic as we tried to stuff the Christmas spirit into our classrooms and finish these plays so we could send them home as New Year gifts for the parents in little packages. And finally, after a lot of work (mainly on Alinas end), we have finished. Though Christmas has passed I still feel like passing along that Christmastime happiness by sending along our recording of them. They are far from being fluent but they are enthusiastic to learn, which is what really matter at this point. So enjoy!

We also did a santa dance with the kids, the original of which you can see here (dream english guy again). This made my heart sing, too cute!

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas and soon a Happy New Year. Wishing you the best from Istanbul, sendng all my love and well wishes wherever you may be in this big world :)

Poem Collaboration

So its been a while since I last wrote. There are lots of excuses: I broke my laptop, lack of internet access at my house, trying to be more productive--but at the end of the day I still have a new years resolution to keep with this blog. And being so close to my one year successful completion, now is hardly the time for slacking off.

These past few days Hamid and I have been delving into poetry together. I never realized how important it was to share that with a significant other until now, and it is quite an experience. Anyways, with Hamid being more of an oral poet and me being a written poet, we've taken to him speaking poems and me writing them down as closely and fast as I can in his own words. This is Hamid's first time writing english poems so its kind of exciting to hear him put those feelings he has always expressed in persian into a language I can understand without translation. He recently was inspired to write this poem for me (I know, spoiled), after which we went back and read and re wrote and talked about what he wanted it to mean and how to best express that. I've never collaborated on a poem before so it was rather interesting, and I thought, worth sharing. So here it is, without further introduction. I'll be writing quite a bit this next week to get my 4 posts a month quota done before the end of the year, so gear up for a lot Christmas-time Sydney ranting :)
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"The First Child"
by Hamid Hoseinzade and Sydney Odell

She talks about her dark places inside
the parts I haven't explored yet, or
maybe the parts that never
come to the surface--
that have never come to daylight.

I look into her blue eyes, deeply
and I can't believe there is any darkness
under that storm after the ocean--
but I can guess that
not every part of her is as white
as that porcelain skin that betrays her.

Sometimes she is so poetic
but sometimes she is like literature.
I can read the inner conflict of war and peace in her,
though I know she prefers peace
to being right.

Bi-sexual, bi-lingual, bigeminal
I can feel the duality in her
which rises from the
antagonistic battle between
our reality and the
adventure she chases down the rabbit hole of her own
inner complexity.

Sometimes I wonder
if she is just bi--
what if she is "multi," if these
two black and white parts of her
are merely the two opposing ends
of her soul's colorful spectrum.

Once I mixed science with emotions
in the container of cynicism,
catalyzed by ego--
the reaction of which
resulted in the birth of logic,
whose eyes are limited in
recognizing wavelengths between
400-700 nanometers.

None of us can see the other waves
we can just feel their polarity--
either as heat
or as a growing tumor inside our body.
I see people as waves too,
some of us overlap--
seeing the visible light,
feeling the invisible darkness...

I always knew that the
villain was merely a
framework for justification
made in the mind of the storyteller.
Sometimes the prince of darkness
can be an illumination for others
when spoken on the tongue of a fallen son's experience.

I wait for the story to
unfold the truth
from the shadowed side of my prism.