Culture shock

November 28th, is an important date in my life. Today officially marks my one year anniversary of having left my seven-year career at Starbucks Coffee Company. It was exactly this date last year that ended an Esther-era and started another. At this point last year, I considered myself absolutely crazy - not all that sure of myself and the decisions I had made (left work life, moved from MB to BC, and took a trip to India, with no plan for after that point), and I wondered - could I go an entire year without work?

Yes.....Absolutely.

Although, there were times during the year that I doubted I could stay away from work. One of the many promises I made to myself upon leaving Starbucks was that I had to stay away from going back - at least within that first year. I know I didn't let on that I had an inkling to do so, but the truth is, there were a few times when I was curious about what was going on in the company. I distinctly remember a moment (sometime in the last few months), when I picked up the phone and started dialling a number. Forgetting who I had intended to call, I had subconsciously started dialling the Starbucks voicemail system. It was only when I was at the last number button that I hung up the phone - startled by my automaticity. Could I still know that number, after all this time, and dial it without thinking twice? I caught myself, sure, but the fact that it was so deeply embedded in my mind was eerie. Of course, it was comical as well, but disturbing nonetheless.

For the most part, I didn't miss the work. I didn't get bored. I didn't miss the responsibility. What I really relished about this past year was the lack of obligation to any authority or personal responsibility. Making the decision to take a year off was completely liberating. Would I do it again? Yes. Do I think everyone should save up to take a year off? Yes. Do I recognize it is an incredible feat? Yes. I feel that my self-imposed sabbatical taught me a lot about myself, and above all, it forced me to ask myself why I needed work to be my entire identity before and how I was going to change that in the future.

This time mellowed my response to the work identity I had created. I'm certain that the next job I take on will look different than the way I left the last one. My idea of the 'work me' is forever altered. I'm grateful for the time I've had away from work.

And, unbelievably, I'm beginning to crave some work again. It did take a while though. I started getting excited about the concept of work only this past month. The welcome fit of university - concepts and schedule demands - has certainly overflowed into my work ideas. The two coming together will make a beautiful couple - or as we said at Starbucks 'a perfect pairing'. Hahaha...

Cheers to one entire year off - the marker of remoulding me - the me I want to be.

Another day, another inspiration. U2's How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb was officially released yesterday (written on my calendar for two months or so). After watching the November 20th SNL performance, I thought that U2 couldn't inspire me more (and they inspire me a lot). I was absolutely wrong. The day after the SNL performance, the band toured New York streets on the back of a truck and subsequently ended up dominating Times Square and other prominent NY markers. Though they were filming for a new video, it caused me to wonder, does this band really love music this much? Yep, they sure do. The CD is brilliant. I wouldn't say I have a handle on what it is yet, but I would say it is a continuation of what was started with All That You Can't Leave Behind. At this point, I'm totally in love with the track, "Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own", which is a song about Bono's dad (who died during the ATYCLB tour). The corresponding DVD further inspires because of the everpresent comradery between band members and the honesty with which they approach their music. U2 is the soundtrack to my culture.

For me, stress therapy equals a good, hard, and extremely deliberate run. For others, it can come in the form of a sledgehammer. The group, called StopStress, offers 'damage therapy'. A stressee can take a sledgehammer to anything in the StopStress lot to get out their various aggressions. Often, people choose cars over anything else, though mobile phones come a close second. It is reported that no one makes it past the half-hour mark without attaining a stress-free facial expression (plus they're simply wasted from the effort to hammer down). Is this productive? Is this what we have come to? I wonder, wouldn't a little more effort in the communication department eliminate one's desire to kill a car? I don't know - maybe people think a long run is equally bizarre, but at least no safety equipment is required.

Of all of the courses that I am studying at Athabasca University, Labour Studies is by far my favourite. Isn't it interesting that because it was required, I thought it might be a bit dry? Silly me. Though I have enjoyed each text so far, the most recent read of Graham Lowe's The Quality of Work: A People-Centred Agenda, has personally, been quite validating. In each chapter, he not only tackles interesting issues within the Canadian work environment, but also provides direction to potential solutions which have been lingering in my mind as well. No, I don't have the solution to unemployment, but I do think that we've been looking at it in a reactionary fashion rather than proactively.

Of course, I realize that this book is the beginning of more for me. It is supposed to spur me on to create my own solutions to the very real issues of work today. For me, what is important in this learning process - specifically in the study of labour - is that I realize I am, again, looking at a way to formulate my own culture: my work culture. This experiment is lifelong - and this blog may be one of the many tools to facilitate it.

Here are a few Lowe quotes to get a glimpse of what I'm looking at:

"There is some convincing evidence that most Canadians see growing polarization in their society. What is striking about this perception of a nation dividing into haves and have-nots is that close to 80 percent of respondents express concern about this trend, with little variation by demographic characteristics: generally speaking, region, age, education, labour-force status, and household income have little influence. ... When individuals feel they lack control over their lives, they experience stress. And they risk getting caught in a vicious circle of despair and helplessness, which feeds their sense of powerlessness. ... Thus even as large-scale economic change transforms people's lives, one common reaction to that change - a perceived loss of personal control - can undermine the confidence that individuals need if they are to seek positive alternatives. This is a major barrier to the reconstruction of working life."

"People with higher literacy skills tend to earn higher incomes and have a lower chance of unemployment. In other words, an economy that has successfully tapped into the skills of the workforce will be more prosperous and productive than one that leaves workers' literacy skills underutilized. Canada still falls well short of this goal."

There is more good stuff in there - but you can read the book yourself. What is stellar in all of this is that my experiment to define my own culture has ended up in the realm of work. Though this direction was highly likely, and definitely invited, it is turning out to be wonderful to explore and engage in.

The overwhelming desire to daydream inundated my bicycle ride today. There was a bizarre light on the mountains and fields in Chilliwack. It was a combination of imminent dusk and looming black rain clouds. I cannot believe the shimmering light that poured over the wet, green fields while I pedaled, chiding myself for not having at a camera to capture it with. Who knew a trip to the library could be so terribly enlightening without the effort of reading a word?

Last week, an excellent revelation unraveled before me. I have pondered how to approach the topic of my latest discovery, though unfortunately my thoughts are not yet completely formed. I will be certain to divulge it to you once I get a better grasp on the entirety of it.

Isn't the unpredictability of self-discovery remarkable? While figuring this new, undisclosed discovery, I have come to the conclusion that I like the process of self-discovery as much as, if not more, than the actual resolution. Much like that of a road trip, the process of getting where I aim to get is as important as the arrival. A perfect example of this is depicted in the film, The Motorcycle Diaries.

The pre-revolutionary tale of Ernesto 'Che' Guevera completely affirmed not only the importance of road-tripping, but also my feelings about the process of self-discovery. A wonderful moment in the film occurs when Alberto Granado, Ernesto's travel companion, draws a distinct and permanent line on the map of America del Sur. This scene literally transported me into their dream - to drive the entirety of South America. After the mapping out of their dream, the process begins and I was completely involved with it - every crash, every curse, every cold and deplorable night, every drink, every inventive and necessary scam, and every spontaneous encounter.

For me, it is imperative to say that the process is the dream.

Looking at a recent issue of Vanity Fair, I stumbled upon a short feature on Laird Hamilton. One thing we have in common? The love of coffee - "a necessary extravagance".

Getting back to my point, Laird Hamilton is a superhero incarnate. I was wondering if he's ever been approached to star in a Hollywood feature film, maybe of the comic superhero, Silver Surfer. In addition to looking and acting the part of a supreme, super-hero athlete, he's married to Gabrielle Reese. Gabby, a beach volleyball queen, model and fitness magazine contributor, is something fabulous in her own right. They make quite a stellar and inspiring couple.

This pair causes me to wonder about the concept of heroes. I know they're not political icons, but they are physical ones. Everyone values different things, which means everyone has a different idea of what a hero means. Who are our heroes today? Isn't it important to have a hero in order to aspire to something greater than oneself?

In addition to the Vanity fair mini-feature, I read a recent article by Jeremy Copeland. The celebrated death of the Indian bandit, Veerappan, stirred up a bizarre frenzy among his loyalists. Though his crimes by far outweigh his Robin Hood-like accomplishments, people considered him to be a hero.

Growing up, I never felt I had a hero, even though I eagerly searched for one. I think the closest I ever came to finding one was at the age of 10, when I attended Terry Fox Elementary. At that school, we watched a documentary of the school's namesake every year. Maybe, deep down, he's the reason I wanted to run. More and more, I find myself drawn to Terry Fox's story and his purpose - so simple. Did you know he ran a full marathon a day?

On a more frequent basis, I think about the importance of heroes in my life. If only to incite some 'reality' to our dreams, which can often feel intangible. What role to heroes play in our culture - our greater Canadian culture as well as our own personal one?

It's surprising, even to me, how little I talk about film on this blog. As a giant fan of the cinema, I feel I don't want to overwhelm people with my vast (and more often than not, quite useless)movie knowledge. I regularly refer to myself as the 'Cliff Claven' of film.

In a very distinct (and fairly recent) occurence, I completely dismantled an attempt to play a movie trivia game. I had been teamed up with my mom, with the rest of the immediate family teamed up in pairs. What had initially started as fun turned into an embarrassing display of Esther-the-movie-geek. I think I actually scared some of my family with my useless information. It can't be a good sign when I can name a director for a movie I have never seen. Hmmm...

Moving on, I do want to discuss a visually stunning movie called City of God. It is a Brazilian film which exposes the gritty life of the favelas (slums) in Rio de Janeiro. The cinematography garnered an Oscar nomination and it is absolutely gorgeous. I found myself drooling over the slum footage. In all it's squalor and disaster, it is lovingly filmed to endear the viewer to the culture of the City of God. Outside of the glorious photography, the content of the film is a page-turner. Often, the mayhem of the favela life displaced me, putting me into the ficticious pictures of a comic book. I was reeling at the culture of these streets, the display of emotion (or not) of the people, and the constant reminder that a gun in the hand is a part of one's anatomy rather than an addition to it. Despite the horror of the film, there are several hilarious moments. Maybe it's the film's comic feel, or the need to laugh out of shock, or the fact that the truth as we know it does not apply - so we're forced to get their humour, which is quite dark.

Ironically, my travel bug has heightened as a result of the film. No, not to visit Rio - but somewhere in which the overexposed light will tickle my camera lens and I'll be shocked by my place of birth, for which I am ever grateful.

Though I do not consider myself to be a musician, I am often inspired by them. Let me further clarify, I'm not a musician in any way. I learned the piano, as many of you did, while growing up. It seemed like the right thing to do. Though I advanced well through to the age of 14, I had no real talent for it. I could memorize the keys and the technicalities of playing piano - crescendo and so on - but had absolutely no ability to improvise. I think that one's ability to improvise in a given task is proof of whether or not they have any talent for it. Hmmm... another idea to ponder at another time. If I had to choose a musician by which to be consistently inspired, it would have to be Annie Lennox. From her collaboration in the Eurythmics to her solo evolution, Annie Lennox constantly adapts and develops throughout time. I am inspired by her ability to create her own culture. She decidedly uses her talent to communicate life experiences, beliefs, and above all, be creative. Listening to Bare, I find myself transfixed on dreams, dynamism (is that a word or verb or what?), lifestyle, reality with an edge, and a longing for more - whatever it may be. Wouldn't it be fabulous to identify your own culture by the music you most identify with? For me, there are several levels of music identity - the dream state (actual sleep), the waking moments (breakfast), running, evening moods, and work (or study in my current situation). I'll give it a shot... Dream state = Depeche Mode Violator, New Order Waking moments = U2 All That You Can't Leave Behind, Ryan Adams Love and Hell parts 1&2, Annie Lennox Bare Running = No Doubt, Moby Play, Zwan Mary Star of the Sea Evening moods = Radiohead OK Computer, The Cure Galore, Dave Gray Work = Radiohead Hail to the Thief and/or Kid A, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Dave Brubeck, Beck Mutations, Rufus Wainright Poses On a similar note, my friend Jaime has begun a new and fabulously insightful music excursion on her blog, Procrastination Attempts.

The coolness of winter is nipping at my cheeks. Though this winter is not a Manitoba one (cheers to me), it is a winter nonetheless. I haven't been entrenched in a complete winter cycle for two years now. India was a fabulous distraction from the darkness of winter nights, the rain that soaks up into my bell-bottoms, the crisp breath in my lungs during a run, and the undesire to get up, out of bed.

I've noticed a sharp increase in my desire to drink coffee. Unfortunately, this winter is without free 'partner' beverages. For the first time in a long time, I got the desire to set up my home espresso machine for vanilla latte season. I wonder if my coffee palate can be built up again to take some straight-up espresso. It's frightening to consider that I used to be completely fueled by espresso. Some days, up to 8 doppios were injected into my brain, nerves, and eyeballs (sorry - to all of you who witnessed it). That's not including my regular coffee of 2 - 3 cups a day, regardless of my days off. I think this winter should mark my beginning of increased tea intake.

When in Darjeeling, we found a glorious peace in the tranquility of the Himalayan mountains, in a small cafe', in the cup of hot, Darjeeling tea. We brought back a good brick of the tea, which can only defined as Darjeeling tea (at least that's what the locals told us - it's not black, green, herbal, or oolong; it's Darjeeling). The taste and fragrance of it is distinct. There are definitely going to be a few days this winter where I will be longing for a Darjeeling moment - so the tea will have to suffice.

If you can't tell by now, I'm missing India, namely the feelings of impending travel. It has been reinfused by the departure of our friends, Trev and Candy, on a 6 month trip throughout Southeast Asia. They are going to be in India within three weeks. I'm so thrilled for them - and so, so jealous. It's not an envious jealous, it's more like a protective girlfriend jealous - knowing the goods, the chaos, the beauty, the horror, and the loveliness. In addition to Trev and Candy's excursion, a couple we recently met are going to India for three weeks. They have really stepped up to the India plate, leaving their child with family and friends for three weeks. to properly explore the diversity of this crazy-wonderful country. So much wonder and diversity ahead for these four people.

So, a real winter lies ahead for me. I guess it's about time. More coffee, tea, and rediscovery of my fall/winter wardrobe. "What's this? Oooohhh, a sweater that I haven't been enfolded in for some time." I'm home.