Saturday April 26th, 2008-Eeyore’s Birthday

Tenley, Mike and I made our way to the 45^th Annual Eeyore Festival in Pease Park. I had heard a lot about the festival last year, but didn’t make it. This year, on a perfect evening we parked our car at 17^th and Congress and hopped on the yellow school bus that would drop us off to say Happy Birthday to good ole’ Eeyore.

The good vibes began with our bus driver; let’s call her “Lorraine”, like the delicious quiche. She navigated the bus with a smile on her face and a welcome greeting for everyone who stepped on and a good wish for everyone who stepped off. Her warm nature was completely unconditional; she seemed to get ultimate pleasure in knowing everyone else was having a good time.

We entered the park in a daze of bewilderment that comes from the over stimulation of so much going on around you. The first thing that came to mind was freedom. As I looked around it all appeared like a blur of colors intermingling. People were adorned in costumes that did not necessarily make any sense, just a conglomeration of materials, paint and accessories of various types. But I also saw some familiar tributes to characters like Tigger, Where’s Waldo and…well really those were the only two I recognized.

I took pictures of this naked painted man, as you can see here, his backside reading “Kiss’…you would think ‘my’ but I can’t make it out…butt.” What you cannot see is that his front side was just as bare and just as painted. I apologize for not getting a picture of that.

Swaying next to one of the many drum circles is where we spent most of our time. Tenley and I took our shoes off and enjoyed the rhythm. Our friend Mike brought his Cajon drum and wailed away. He moved on to some random plastic buckets later, eventually breaking one due to his intense pounding. Playing this music was a good release for him.

It was such a great moment, taking everyone in as they moved about without a care in the world. That was the best part about this festival, no one seemed to care about what anyone else thought, and that is because no one was judging anyone else. People felt comfortable with themselves in the presence of so many other people. This is not something you see on a daily basis.

Tenley and I set off to do some hula hooping and ended up discovering another drum circle with some more characters soaking up the rhythm of the festival. There were two guys who had tie-died themselves and were executing some curious gymnastic routine. Once again, just free to move and be whatever they wanted. We also met Leo, a very, very tall man with dreadlocks. He was a nice man and he took our picture.

As we walked back towards the shuttle school bus to leave the festival, we were happy to see that “Lorraine” was once again our escort. She reciprocated the excitement as recognized the faces she had dropped off earlier. “Did everyone have a great time?” she wanted to know. Better than I could have imagined. On the bus ride we sat next to Jay and his guitar. We sang Beatles songs and a little Otis Redding. Also, in a rebellious childhood moment, we smoked a cigarette on the school bus. Lorraine did not mind as long as we were courteous to those around us and did not burn holes in the seats. It felt strangely liberating to be smoking that cigarette on the school bus, yet another manifestation of the sentiment that rules do not apply on Eeyore’s birthday.

I am thinking today, the day after, why it is that this gloomy character’s birthday from Winnie the Pooh is celebrated every April in Austin, TX in honor of spring. There may be reasons that the festival organizers came up with, but I have some of my own. Eeyore is the unexpected guest, the one whom the rest of the characters in Pooh Corner may be surprised to see show up with a party hat on. He is also the one who needs a little urging, some encouraging words to reassure him that his friends love him for who he is. But one of the best traits of Eeyore is that he doesn’t mind the rain or gray days. He may say “Oh woe is me,” but he accepts it as a part of reality that must be endured. So the festival is for the Eeyore in all of us, to remind us to shake the haters off and be who we want to be. It is also about the obnoxious Tiggers, absent-minded Poohs, motherly Kangas, little Roos, arrogant Owls and worrisome Rabbits that make our world interesting. We can find friends of various kinds to share our honey with. So Happy 45^th Eeyore, in your honor we once again welcome spring and diversity in Austin, TX.

Experience: A Work in Progress

I’ve been thinking lately about how we measure our experiences, or moreover, the quality of our experiences. I have been beating myself up for not having done enough, not being accomplished enough as I near my 25^th birthday. I know that many, especially those older than me, would tell me that I have no reason to panic. Yet I cannot seem to shake this impatient desire for what the future will bring. I feel like I am waiting impatiently to find the golden egg so that I may crack it open and secure the treasure that I seek. I am not sure what this is exactly, more an intangible sentiment of fulfillment, a materialization of my yearning for all of these visions that I cannot place my finger on. They are intense feelings more than anything else, scenes I visualize of places I’ve been or want to go, and I am chasing that sensation of discovery. For the first time in my life thus far, time seems to be slipping away. I am being carried along at a fast pace and I do not seem to have the chance to keep up-I want to say, “stop!” I am not ready. I need more time to accomplish something, anything. A line in Bonnie Raitt’s song “Nick of Time” says “Time is much more precious when there’s less of it to waste.” I have to ask myself, am I wasting time or judging too harshly what it is I do with my time. This reminds me that I need to slow down and enjoy each moment, no matter how small. Now you may think that this is just the whining of a young woman, still so inexperienced, and not patient enough to appreciate the simplicities of life. This may very well be true. This is why I seek the answer to this question, so that I can explore the winding road that is this never-ending story. So I ask, “How do you measure the value of your experiences?”

Looking back over the last six years since I graduated from high school, after all that is really when life as I now know it began, I realize I have done a lot, been many places, and met many amazing people. I have had the opportunity to travel abroad and to live in some inspirational cities, Austin definitely being one of them. I went to college, two different ones, and finished my degree in English. Not until the end of my college career did I realize what it was that I wanted to do, to be a journalist. In my last semester I began working as an unpaid, unofficial intern for a public radio station, which even further confirmed for me that this was the path I wished to pursue. Ever since this I have been trying to attain a similar position, to no avail.

Leaving the small college town of Chico, CA has made this a more difficult task. In Austin I have had the opportunity to work for a radio station as a remote coordinator, setting up broadcasts, but promises of training for news reporting have fallen short. I realize this is the nature of the business and the path I have chosen; it is not the easiest nor the quickest way to the top, and definitely not the quickest way to make money. During my last visit home, in an attempt to make me feel better as I expressed my jealousy towards my younger brother’s ability to buy a house (he’s a forest firefighter and works very hard), my dad told me he used to carry around a saying in his wallet that said, “you can either seek repose, or you can seek the truth, but not both.” I am, he told me, the type of person who seeks the truth; my dad, a self-employed musician, has embraced this restless, rambling spirit. He was not trying to demean the success or choices of my brother by making this comparison, but pointing out the differences in the paths we chose. My brother found a job he loves that also pays very well, but in doing this he has sacrificed getting his degree thus far, and he stayed very close to the small town in which we grew up. But he is happy; he is content. In comparison, I am happy, but learning to be content is an everyday struggle that I feel I may always be fighting for. I have a mind that never shuts up and is always asking “what if?” and “why?” This is something about myself that at times I value, and at times drives me crazy.

My life feels, at times, much like a roller coaster, a train journey that I am taking in which I am always getting off at random stops and changing destinations. Understand that I do not regret or wish to exchange this chaos for monotony; this inconsistency is what gives my life vivacity. All of these leaps of faith have developed a collage for me to look back upon, and I know there is much more waiting to be added, more pieces of memories. More colors, tastes, smells, looks, sensations, many more train rides heading in an unknown direction.

In this sense my experience is rich and I am so grateful for what I have seen so far. My bank account is low, I often feel I am chasing after a career that I may never get a hold of, and that biting restlessness always pushing me while at the same time weighing me down, making yearn for solace. I am constantly wondering, and wandering, Am I where I am supposed to be? Supposed to be…that is an interesting angle from which to view one’s life. It is like saying “I should have…” after the fact, after you made a choice out of many you “could have” made. It is like going out to eat, finishing off your meal, and then saying I should have ordered such and such. But you didn’t, so what’s the point? Your belly is filled with something different, that may be just as satisfying but you are too busy fretting over another choice you could have made. Who is to say that one choice is any better than another; each one carries with it a unique journey, a new perspective earned. Another quote from my dad “it is not a right choice or a wrong choice, it is just a choice and you take what you can from it and move on.” In other words, don’t worry so much about what you are supposed to be doing, as what it is that you are doing. This is not complacency, this is learning to live in the moment and appreciate what experiences are in front of your face at this very moment.

How do you learn to live in the moment while still focusing on moving ahead? This is something I am struggling with right now. I know many other people my age are as well. We want what we want and we want it now! Forget patience, life is rushing along without me, as I cling onto the back of it by my fingertips. There is always a reason to look back, to regret, to say, “I should have, or I am supposed to be…” How do we look at the experiences we have had so far as worthy, instead of as only stepping-stones to the “real prize” at the end of all this scavenging for bits. As soon as one accomplishment is met, we too quickly look ahead for the next event, forgetting the value of what we already have in our pockets. Are not these experiences weighed when considering success? After all, life should not be lived as a means to an end.

Are these considerations all arbitrary? I do not believe necessarily that money, or even a job, equals success. It is more akin to passionately working hard at what drives you, to love and be loved by the people and places that surround you. But this can happen in parts, it is a process, not just point A to point B. As I sit in this café and glance around at my fellow seekers, I consider how many of them are fighting the idea in their head that they are enough, that this moment they are in right now is enough. Yes, there are more goals to accomplish, but there is much to be appreciated in their lives at this moment if they really think I about it. If I really think about it…