Out on a Limb

Do you ever wonder why you do some of the things you do? What inspires you or prompts one to make a spontaneous decision or jump out on that limb that day? Talk to that stranger… reach out, be vulnerable, say something nice just because? Smile – to anyone and everyone? Try to let your soul just glow through your pores?

Well, recently I had spent 3 weeks in Lexington, VA during a consultant engagement for my job. After a couple of weeks of boredom and armed with my computer and internet access, I contacted a complete stranger online trying to figure out what to do in the local area for my remaining time there. This is not something I have done before and felt rather weird doing it, but I was fairly desperate for stimulation and something out of the ordinary beyond my hotel stay. Almost instantly I received a reply online from a young woman named “Court”. Court offered to meet me; she stated “perhaps just for fun we could do coffee. What the heck – right?” Well our coffee meeting actually turned into a Margarita at a local hot spot the next night. Upon meeting Court, I felt very much at ease by her presence and felt like I was meeting an old friend. We had great dialogue of true substance and thoughts, it was truly a treat. Among our conversations we discussed our lives, hobbies and interests which included hiking and for me “geocaching”… this was something new to Court. I explained to Court how geocaching works, and how it is a “techy” game of hide and seek utilizing Global Positioning Devices seeking out hidden caches all around the globe. I also demonstrated to her how there were some in the vicinity of where we were with my IPhone. This fascinated her and before we knew it we decided to meet again – to geocache!

A couple days later we met after work at a local grocer parking lot on the edge of town, where Court and her dog Margot picked me up. We arrived at the trail head just as the sun was going down to commence our quest. As we started down the path, my GPS read that we had about a 1 mile to trek to our destination. As we made our way, we tromped through a cow pasture which was in line with the trail we were it on. It was getting very, very dark as I peered at the backlight of my GPS receiver leading our way further into the darkness, wondering if this was going to take us into any other unexpected terrain. During this time, I was learning from my new friend that she had a fear of large animals, and consequently was a bit nervous to possibly encounter one. Yikes… all the possible scenarios ran through my head of what we may I may be dealing with during this hike with Court. Fortunately we did not see a cow to test this fear, but as we continued we finally stopped to pull out our crank LED flashlights to light our way along a river. Soon we were zeroing in on our target and trying to distinguish the absolute place between the clues and the GPS receiver’s direction. We found ourselves looking everywhere for the hidden cache – but were limited to explore too much in the darkness, especially with a gully nearby to possibly injure ourselves. Ultimately we decided it was a not a good time to find this cache and that perhaps we could try another cache somewhere a little more urban. During our hike back, the stars and moon were absolutely amazing – clearly a spectacle to see from the country, this ambiance helped light our path as we made it back to the car.

Along our way, there was a moment… we heard a shrieking cry in the direction we were hiking… being in the middle of nowhere this was a bit disconcerting and cause us to freeze in our tracks and listen intently… nothing more… Court was visibly spooked; I swear I could see the white in her wide open eyes through the darkness! Her alarm started almost causing me to feel the same. Okay I said “we need ground rules! No matter what happens, we stick together!” So we continued on the path nervously back to the car… trying to take our mind off the noise we just heard. This is when I tried coming up with a story – gosh any story to tell just to take our mind off the “screaming thing”. Thankfully, we made it to car, because my story telling skills were terrible since I was so nervous and distracted by the unknown sounds in the woods.

At this point, we made our way back to town, stopping by a cute little park in town “Penny Park” to try for one more cache. Unfortunately, caches were not in those beautiful stars for us this night, because once again we were unsuccessful. So as we drug our feet, fairly defeated, we decided to abort and end the evening with a well deserved beer at the local “Stone Grey Bar”. In this quaint little bar we were served beer with Kerr canning jars to drink from. The bartender took our picture, first with my camera, then with his. So if you are ever traveling in near Buena Vista, VA and stop by this eclectic place, perhaps you will see our picture on the wall.

As I look back to this night, this was such fun! And to top it all off, this was real fun, not artificial, manufactured, going through motions, or pretending in any way. Instead, it was full of spontaneity, numerous emotions varying from fear and apprehension to joy and comfort. It is funny how you do not always realize how much fun you are having right when you are in it… but as part of the reflection.  My last week in Lexington, VA is one that I will not soon forget. I am grateful and excited to have met my new friend out on this limb.

Memoir - Confirming My Direction

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Memoir - Confirming My Direction
Category: Life

The story below is probably the first most defining moment I can recollect and has had significant impact with how I approached my life moving to this day. I wrote this as a testament to the importance this holds with me and also to the possibility that my Father will one day understand.

Confirming My Direction

By Nicole Carry

As a child I attended a prestigious Catholic elementary school in our area; St. Hugo's of Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. It seemed where Catholic children went to school was quite a status symbol for parents just as much as how cute their outfits were in church that Sunday.

At this school I wore a uniform, which was a red, blue and white plaid jumper skirt with a white blouse and navy knee socks. The boys wore navy dress pants, a light blue dress shirt and a navy tie. If they forgot their tie on a given day, they would have to make and paper one and color it in, and wear that for the day. I would always wear my gym shorts under my skirt, so I could easily take off the jumper at recess and play jump rope. My homeroom teacher was Sister Janet, an older woman, rather militant, she wore her habit daily with her crucifix around her neck. We sometimes would call her "Sourpuss" behind her back because we found out her middle name was "Lemon", which to us 1^st graders was very funny. In this class, I recall learning about Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit from Sister Janet and how Jesus walked the earth as a man. We were taught that Jesus forgave everyone, befriended people who were good and bad, and gave all he could to the human spirit. I envisioned Jesus to be much like Mother Theresa in our modern time as someone in real life I could relate to. We were also taught, if we wanted to be "good" we should live as Jesus lived. I took this to be the basis of spirituality and religion at this time.

As I got older, I learned that the Catholic religion did not necessarily practice these same basic principles I was taught. I found this often to be very confusing and struggled to "feel" the importance of the religion. In my childhood, my parents were going for a divorce and I found I was looking for more, trying to feel spiritual, assessing matters of the soul, wondering where I fit in. Realizing, there is more to this world, feeling it, but having problems defining it.

As I was reaching adolescence, my parents had finally divorced and I ended up going to public schools due to the financial impact of the divorce not affording me Catholic private school any longer. I was about 14 years old and it was time for me to attend Catechism classes so I could become confirmed on my rite of passage as young Catholic raised girl. Consequently, my Father enrolled me St. Daniels Sunday evening Catechism classes.

On the first day of Catechism, in my class of about 45 students, I recall not thinking too much about what I was about to embark on. Thinking this is just some dumb class my Dad wanted me to take. As the class began, a Nun was teaching, she wore conservative street clothes and appeared just like everyone else. That day she explained to our class what Confirmation was, defining it like this: She explained that when we were babies, we were baptized into the Catholic religion without understanding, but it was important because our parents wanted our souls recognized by God so we could go to heaven. Now she said, as adolescent adults, we were able to learn about the Catholic religion and CHOOSE to become baptized in the Catholic religion as adults, conscientiously and knowing. Gosh, I just sat there in amazement. How profound of a task I was being assigned. I mean after all, I had a serious decision to make; this was a matter of the soul. From that day forward I attended all the Catechism classes and studied and researched the "100 questions" of the Catholic religion to help us understand all the rules and policies Catholicism stood for. It was almost annoying how many questions I would ask to understand, and my peers thought I was goofy for doing so; after all, it was clear in ways we were just sheep to be herded in this process. Did I not see that?

As we neared to the end of the class, the nun started preparing us for our confirmation ceremony. She had us choosing our "Saint Names" and such for ceremonial purposes. I thought that this would be a good time to ask the most significant question "when were we going to get to choose?" The nun seemed confused when I asked this question; she said "choose what?" Gosh how could she forget day 1? We are all here making a very important choice, to become baptized in the Catholic religion as adults. I reminded her of her dialogue from day 1, and the word I keyed in on that day 'CHOICE'. She seemed stunned. You see I told her, "I need to know when someone is going to ask me if I choose Yes or No to become baptized in the Catholic religion, because I have been studying very hard and I am prepared to give my answer". She continued to look at me stunned and she explained to me that there was no point in the ceremony that we would be asked that. That we had already done the work and now the ceremony was basically just the final part of becoming confirmed.

Okay, now for the defining moment. For the first time in my life, this was the first decision I felt I had been empowered "even if by accident" to make for myself, my soul. I informed the nun that I would not be getting confirmed at this ceremony - and that if I was asked, my answer would be "No". She was flabbergasted, she asked why? I explained to her how I understood and agreed with a majority of the Catholic rules and philosophies we studies, but there were a few in there that I just was not mature enough at this time in my life to validate or understand . For example, why were we to only use the rhythm method as a form of birth control? Aren't there other options in this day and age? Also, what was talking in tongues? Sounds like manic hallucinations to me no matter how many times I heard it explained. And why couldn't I cremate my body if I chose to when I die? What if I am not ready to make these decisions for myself? I am not even considering sex, so why should I be choosing how I am going to go about it now? I have always thought anyone I saw to be talking in tongues – a big faker, so why should I go with that? It does not seem real to me. So I said to the nun, "it was all or nothing" I could not be confirmed. The nun was still confused - and was trying to convince me that I could still be confirmed... understanding would come later. I responded that a woman could not be "kind of pregnant" she either was or she was not. I also explained I do not have to rush into any decision; this can be made later, when I can embrace it fully with clear understanding for myself, in my own time.

Wow, I do not think I even realized the momentum of that decision I made that day. My Father, the Priest, and several nuns, they all me sat me down and tried talking to me in a cold classroom at the church one day. I sat in a hard school chair and felt as though I was on trial, feeling small, facing in essence –the church in its entirety, like David and Goliath. They tried to ask me why I could not do this and they again tried to clarify the answers to my questions that could have still been left lingering, so I could move on with closure and become confirmed. As they argued their point about how I NEEDED to be confirmed, implying I could go to hell if not. I felt brow beat. I did not like being told how to think or feel, I had felt they underestimated my rationalizing and did not respect my efforts in trying to understand for myself or respect the time I wanted to allow for myself to find understanding. This all underscored my decision to stand firm. There were moments during this process; I had felt the feeling of being forced. I could not belong to this organization right now spiritually - at least not anytime soon.

This standing up for me was huge... monumental, and is very telling of the woman I have become today. It is really a shame that this during this moment, all my parents and family really saw was a rebellious teenager. During that time, I did not feel like a rebellious teenager, but rather a flower blossoming... feeling her way out of her mind and thoughts and expressing them to others. This was the first time; I stood by doing things my way, on my time. Why wouldn't they want a daughter who could think for herself?

To this day I never became confirmed in the Catholic religion, not that it is bad organization, it's just not for me. This story of my experience has become a celebration of sorts and one I look back to fondly and a time of deep growing. My name is Nicole, I feel, I think, I rationalize. Hear me. Respect me. Love me anyway, just as Jesus would.

The Lady on the Plane

Sunday, May 25, 2008

The lady on the plane Current mood: thoughtful Category: Life So I have been thinking for awhile about my trip to Costa Rica and exactly what I am going to blog about, what am I inspired to share? There has got to be something… quite frankly while this time was important and well worth the experience - I have been somewhat at a loss for words. I guess I have been thinking that I should have profound stories I should be sharing that have been incredibly insightful. I do not really have that. While I was in fact volunteering my time, I received so much in return from the people of Costa Rica, helping me learn and experience the language, culture, and the wildlife. At most times I did not feel like I was the one giving. But since I have been back, my thoughts keep coming back to the lady on the plane. After 2 weeks in Costa Rica I was resigned to the fact that I was heading back and my journey was coming to an end. My flight had been delayed 2 hours, just long enough to screw up everyone's connecting flight. When I was finally was permitted to board the plane, I took my seat next to a cute older lady that looked like she could have been my grandmother. She was not like anyone I had met in Costa Rica, she was adorable and seemed to have an incredibly nurturing, gentle energy. We had an empty seat between us so we were able to spread out and relax. It did not take long for me to figure out that she did not speak a lick of English and she was praying to Dios (God). She was very nervous about flying... she did the sign of the cross and was very fidgety and breathing very rapidly. So I spoke to her in my new Spanglish abilities... I asked if it was her first time flying - it was. I tried my best to calm her but she was very scared, heck who was I to talk anyway – I hate flying. As the plane started heading down the runway, we held hands until we took off and were seemingly safe in the air. I just remember thinking how important this human touch was to her as she grasped my hand with both of hers, and well surprisingly this touch was just as important to me now too. How ironic it was that I could connect after this time away to a complete stranger whom I just met minutes before, a person whom our native language was not at all the same, yet here we were connecting, affecting each other, consoling. As the plane made it to cruising altitude, the stewardess came around asking if we would like to something to drink and quickly it was apparent that the stewardess did not speak any Spanish. So, I became the interpreter for this lady and ensured she got the beverage she desired. (How funny, that I was an interpreter at this moment? Who would have thought?) Soon the flight announced their food service, which is now paid for by cash with 3 selections to choose from in our economy aware flights. Realizing the difficulty with language for this lady, I showed her the food selections in the air magazine where she selected the turkey sandwich in which I ordered and paid for. I had kept a $20 bill the whole trip, just for the flight back, I figured I was going to need it at some juncture, I was grateful I had cash on for this moment – and enough for the both of us. During the flight we talked – sort of, as best as we could with the assistance of a Spanish to English dictionary at times. I found out her name is Lilliam Romero Fonseca and she was from San Jose and visiting family in Philadelphia. During our flight, Lilliam wrote recipes for me in my journal (in Spanish of course) and we exchanged addresses and phone numbers. She shared a stash of homemade cookies with me that she was taking to her family in Philly. She also offered to give me colones (Costa Rican currency) for her sandwich – but really, what am I going to do with colones now? I explained to her I was not going to accept the money and that it was really no problem, the cookies and recipes were payment enough. As our flight landed, it was late and everyone was very tired. As we left the plane we got separated quickly with U.S. Customs and never really got to say a proper goodbye. The next day, I received a phone call from an unknown area code, the man on the other end of line had a thick Latino accent and informed me he was directed by Lilliam to call me and thank me for my kindness. I let him know, that she made the trip equally pleasant for me as well. When I hung up the phone, I just sat for a bit… if only everything in the world was like this. This has really got me thinking, thinking about our responsibilities as humans in this world. This will take me to my next blog… to come later. N.

La Pura Vida!

Friday, February 08, 2008

La Pura Vida! Current mood: adventurous Category: Travel and Places Some of you are aware that I have been doing a lot of self exploration lately. Re-evaluating my life, matters of the soul, my values, dreams, relations, goals, meditation/alone time, my adventure quotient being satisfied…. Just to name a few things that have been on my mind. I am so appreciative of those of you whom have been nothing but loving, supportive, understanding and non-judging during this time. I have started on an inevitable journey with many confrontations of self, some good, and some bad. At times I have felt I needed to control it… but now, since I am realizing I cannot always, I feel like I need to "just be" and embrace this time of personal growth, and let this world/universe teach me and show me what I need to know in this life. So I am trying to learn the lesson. As part of this, I thought now would be a optimum time for me to take that "Volunteer Vacation" I have always wanted to do… when I had brought this up to others before they all thought I was crazy… perhaps I am. But it is my wish to give back in whatever small ways I can, and why not do it in a place of such rich culture? So I am taking a trip to Costa Rica. Manifestation – Costa Rica! La Pura Vida! I will be leaving in April and volunteering for 2 weeks in an Indigenous Reservation called "Bambu" that is nested in the Mountains near Panama. I opted to do one of the "spicier" more culturally rich projects, with less American comforts but more indulging into the environment and their way of life. I will be staying with a host family while I am there – where I will be integrated as part of their family for those 2 weeks. I will be volunteering at a Retirement home, helping the nuns, doing maintenance and repairs, crafts with the seniors, whatever is needed. In the afternoons, I will be teaching the kids in the village English! I think this is funny seeing that I speak little to no Spanish. So it should be interesting game of charades and pictionary. I also hope to work with some of the medicinal plants they use as well and see how they are doing their sustainable farming. I will also be taking some Spanish classes myself! In addition to all that, I have allocated time for a few activities such as white water rafting, zip-lining through the jungle, and seeing the rainforest and all the exotic animals and plants as well as some of the magnificent waterfalls. I do not think I will have time to visit the active volcano and all the hot springs surrounding, but perhaps I will have to get that in on another trip one day. I have not been this excited about anything in such a long time, and I feel my sense adventure is going to be fulfilled (for a little while). I believe doing this trip alone will make it a very unique experience for me soulfully and I plan to take a journal in case I have any epiphanies of life. I have been in contact with approximately 8 volunteers who have done this before and they cannot stop talking about how great it was! One of the volunteers sent me some pictures which I have posted (please take a peek). Her project was in a more modern village than the one I am going to, in case that gives any perspective of what I am in for. These volunteers made me promise to share with them my experiences when I get back. Apparently many of these volunteers keep in contact with their host families and have made plans to return to visit. Again, thank you all who have been nothing but supportive of me during this time. To you all, I send all my loving, positive vibes of gratefulness. N.

Coming Out Narrative

As a child I was always a tomboy - when I was about 3-4 years old I was looking at professions of people in a Richard Scarry picture book when I told my mom I wanted to be a "Fireman". She asked me "Don't you mean Firewoman?" I vividly remember proclaiming back to her in my deep child voice "No, I want to be a FIREMAN!"



Funny how I identified myself that young back then… I would even only wear pants, and only pants that had pockets in the front for my fingers and hands or whatever... had to be like Dads.



As I grew older it was always a constant struggle - my nature to be a tomboy vs. the princess my Mother so wanted me to be. I pretty much led a straight, catholic schoolgirl life with an overbearing Mother that tried as she might to groom me into a little lady. She wanted so much for me that she taught me sophisticated table manners and gestures, and to how to set table for elaborate dinner parties with multiple courses, numerous glasses and silverware all by the time I was 7 years old. I could cook, clean, and gosh even play the piano for our guests. One year she even went as far as making me memorize & sing "O Christmas Tree" for our family holiday party. She had me practice this for weeks before the party till I was the most appropriate perfect daughter at the party. Once I escaped, I threw off my dress and put jeans on and played my air hockey in our basement with my male cousins - where I was the "air hockey champion" that no one could beat! This is where I belonged, if only I could have been down there all night!



Now I also have to mention how important it was to my upbringing that I HAD to attend private Catholic schooling. The school I attended was particularly strict and liking boys was not even considered - let alone liking another girl. So exploring my sexuality and learning to be open to it took a very slow road with this background. Of course, once I hit public school in 7th grade, the dynamic of social learning changed drastically. I recall in 8th grade the girl with a locker next to mine asked me if I was gay. I was stunned. What did that mean? Really? I mean gees, I did not even engage in any kind of sexual behavior at all - so how could someone ask me if I was gay? I was so taken back by that... I made a point to become more "girly". I thought I should be ashamed and did not even know how I learned that.



In high school, while still an introvert, I was slowing finding myself in so many ways. Mostly my identity without my overbearing parents opinions or influence. This was huge, a huge growing time for me. A time to invent myself, stand up for myself, discover myself, still not sexually though. It was not till I was 17-18 where I started falling into situations with boys... sexually, so very slowly.

I joined the military and left home when I was 20. I distinctly recall signing paperwork going into the Navy in 1991 stating I was NOT an homosexual, because I wasn't nor had any real thoughts about it, after all by now I had sex with boys. Unbeknownst to me... the Navy was going to introduce a grade of women whose psyches aligned with mine and they were lesbians! Yep. *pause* The military made me this way... I say this very tongue in cheek... but I do wonder, what my life would have been like if I never left my hometown. Would I still have broken through? Interesting to consider... especially since I have never put too much thought into it.



So my day came... I had a befriended a "lesbian" named Tracy - and we started to become rather close. One day Tracy needed to tell me that she was a lesbian - since we were reaching a threshold in our friendship. I recall how serious she was; by the time it was over I was just glad she did not have some terminal disease. Funny I took it all so lightly, next thing you know my curiosity took over and I leaped. Had to know what it was all about... After learning the intimacy a woman can provide and the orgasms I had never had, and the whisker burn I did not have to endure to get there... I was hooked. It was all too natural for me...



After a year or so of mental anguish and Catholic guilt about my decisions of happiness, I accepted who I was. Took my time letting my parents and family know, after all, we had more important things to discuss in our relationships besides my sexuality. When the time came, they all got to know, as they wanted to in their own ways.



Today, after a few years of deprogramming my closeted inhibitions from the military, I am now a very "OUT" lesbian in my work, and social community.

Stagger-step writing...

This is my first post, gosh who would have thought I would even consider starting a blog site... I will review how this format works first and soon I will be importing some blogs I have written in the past year. Wish me luck on this new form of expressing myself, and growing with my thoughts, visions, and dreams.