Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Passion and Dreams

PASSION.

Have I lost it?

Did I ever have it?

What is it that drives me? What is it that makes me get up in the morning and go "this is worth it!"?

I no longer know.



I know things I love: Reading, Writing, Music, God, Family, Friends, Socializing, Dancing, Ultimate, Comedy...

But what am I passionate about?

I used to think it was writing until I realized that my year 5's could write circles around me...perhaps I just need to do it again...this time creatively (like I wanted) instead of journalistically (like I've done)...

I used to think it was Children's Rights until I realized that I am no longer involved with organizations that I used to be extremely passionate about (e.g. World Vision). Sure, I'm a teacher and am a strong believer in Children's Rights and believe that each child has a right to clean drinking water, an education, a right to speak freely, and to feel safe. But if this was the driving force of my life (as I used to think it was), wouldn't I be spending much of my free time devoting myself to these organizations?

Special Education? Oh...I get heated up and passionate when I think about this. Unfortunately, I haven't had a chance to work with very many special needs children here in the UK...surely if this was my driving force, I would be more active in looking for jobs or volunteer positions in the industry...

Music? It drives my soul. It makes me free. Music changes my mood. It can make me fall in love. It can make me hate. It can move me to tears. It can give me energy when I thought I had none left... Maybe it is music? Perhaps having no formal training doesn't have to be as big of a stumbling block as I think it is...(too bad I constantly keep losing my voice though :( :( :( )

Travelling? I DO love this! If I could write, travel, and make music for a living, I would. <---- could this be my answer?

I have come to realize that since I moved to London, one of my biggest dreams has come true. I remember being 16 and going to Mrs. Cartwright, our career and college counsellor, and asking her about getting into a university, and her looking at me as if I had just asked about universities on the moon. "You could go," she peered at me doubtfully, "but it's going to cost a lot of money" Read: You can't afford it, honey.

Well, thanks for killing THAT dream, Mrs. Cartwright.

However, it didn't end there. I knew that my parents couldn't afford to let me come to London, but that didn't mean that I couldn't dream. Perhaps one day, I could be a successful journalist and be asked to do some work in London? Perhaps I could join the BBC??? (Oh, the naivety)

Well, the big opportunity finally came last year and now I am living one of my dreams.

But now what?

Where do I go from here?

I almost feel like every experience I've had somehow shaped and prepared me for the moment I came to London. The feeling that this is where I am supposed to be, despite it not being the sunshine and rainbows I thought it would be.

I can't shake the feeling that there is something big that is supposed to happen here...that somehow, in some way, mine, or someone's, or a bunch of people's lives will change in a fantastic and positive way and that it's a direct result of me being in London. That I couldn't have done it in Vancouver. I don't want to waste whatever time I have here being selfish and self-centered...

I want to be a promoter of peace. I want to be a promoter of joy. I want to be a promoter of positivity. I want to be a promoter of love. I want to get up in the morning and know that someone's day was a little bit brighter because I am using my God-given gifts and talents to make the world a happier place.

But then I come full-circle to my original question: What am I passionate about?

And while I'm writing this, I realize that I love people. I love making friends, socializing, and making people smile. I love letting people know they're cared for and that they themselves make a difference. I love seeing the good things about people, and (naively) ignore the fact that there are some bad sides...because we all have them. There's no point in pointing the finger at one person, when I have 3 pointing back at me...
I enjoy encouraging people. Letting them know that I believe in them...

So maybe that's what I am passionate about.
Maybe.

Or perhaps I'll actually get good at guitar, write some songs, and travel the world.



PS: Thanks for reading my highly incoherent rant. Here is a picture as a reward:

Yo, Tanisha. What are you passionate about?

Friday, January 4, 2013

Greater Things Have Yet to Come...

Yesterday evening when I was taking the tube from Victoria station back home after Ultimate practice, there was a woman who got on the tube a station after me. She went straight to the space between the doors of two coaches and tried to open the door (you know, the door you're NOT supposed to open). I watched her fumble around for a little bit (she too weak to open it) and was starting to get worried because after her first attempt failed, she tried once again. If I were to be completely honest, I was concerned about 2 things: The first obviously being that she's going to fall down in between the cracks to her death but the second one was that if that did not happen, she was going to delay everyone because the alarms would go off and the security would come and there would be a hullaballoo for this crazy that wanted to go to the next coach. Nuh, uh. That ain't happenin', girl. I wanna go home!

I took off my earphones and looked at her, about to say, "excuse me, but that's not a good idea." But then I properly looked at her. She had deep red sores all over her body, she was carrying two tubes of cream, was wearing dirty yoga pants and a ratty old sweatshirt. She was mumbling in an incoherent fashion and I could barely hear what she was going on about. "What's wrong with this crazy?" I thought. She wasn't looking at me, but as I strained to hear what she was saying, I realized that her mumblings were directed towards me (or anyone within earshot).

From what I gathered, she was trying to get money for cream ("Hmph! A likely story!" I thought), and  was also pleading people to help out as she was trying to get better from her 'condition' ("Whatever, you druggie, you probably want to feed your meth habit so you can get more of those sores), and so that she could find somewhere to sleep tonight ("Yeah right, there are free shelters you can stay!").

Suddenly she turned around and cast an unfocused eye on me.

"Excuse me, does this train go to Victoria?" she asked.
"No. We passed Victoria already" I told her shortly. "Where are you trying to go?"
"I need to get to Victoria."
"Then you need to get on to the other platform. This train is going the wrong way." I paused as I realized that this was my chance to find out about her. "Where did you get your scars?" I asked.
"The doctor says its an infection." She didn't elaborate.
"What do you need the money for? Ointment?" Please let it be ointment. Please let it be creams. Please let it be something other than towards a drug habit.
"Yes. Whatever you can give to help. I really am trying to get better."

I looked at her again and could see sores and scars in every visible part of her body. Her eyes were downcast and she looked penitent. What must it be like to live like that? And here I was freaking out earlier in the day that I had zits on one side of my face. She looked like she could barely walk...she was hobbling around the coach. Was she pretty once? What happened to her? She couldn't be more than 40.

I reached into my purse and pulled out two fifty pence pieces.

And felt ashamed.

There are three reasons. Firstly, I had 2 more pounds in my bag that I could've given (but I need to pay for electricity!), but I decided to keep it for myself. Secondly, I was giving to her out of a reluctant and a bit of a guilty heart because I did not trust that my money (I worked really hard for that money!) would go towards any creams. Thirdly, that I couldn't do more for her.

And another thought hit me. Earlier on, I was reading a passage from Isaiah 58 that challenged me:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
 Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
 The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.

Here was a woman before me who claimed she was homeless, looked like she had very little, was hurting physically, and was asking for help. Who was I to deny this woman help? Who am I to judge? Instead of judging her, I should have been thinking "what way can I help her?" Practically, it could have been financially, but, there are issues with giving money to someone who might intend to spend it on shelter, food, or other necessities, but may end up spending it one booze, cigarettes, or drugs -- I don't want to be an enabler, I want to be a helper. I want to put a face and a name to the homeless person.

God promises that when I share my food with the hungry, provide the poor wanderer with shelter, satisfy the needs of the oppressed, my (God's) light will shine through. That is something I have been yearning for...for a bright and joyous light to emit out of me, and here God was teaching me how I can achieve this in a very real sense!

But how could I help?

What I really wanted to do was pray for her. As this thought hit my head, she was already down the other end of the train and I considered what I would say to her. I have never really gone up to anyone (let alone a homeless person) and said "would it be okay if I pray for you?" I find that strange, I feel that others would think that I'm strange, she might think I'm just as nuts as I thought she was, it looks strange, you get strange looks, the whole thing is bizarre. And weird.

Yet...

Prayer changes things.

For those of you who do not believe in God, this might be hard for you to understand or believe. There have been moments in my life where I have prayed for specific circumstances, and my prayers and been answered in many glorious and exciting ways. I can't convince you that prayer changes things...but without that hope that comes with prayer, my life would look very different.

So I wanted to pray for this woman, and I as I worked out my approach and looked around again, she was gone!

Ugh! Stupid me! How did I forget:

"do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say" (Matthew 10:19)

Next time, I won't be as scared. What's the worse she can say to me? "No, you crazy!" and then I sit back down, slightly mortified, but shrug it off as I don't get embarrassed too easily. (Stop staring at me, people on the tube, you wish you had the guts to come out of your comfort zone)

Although I this woman has only stepped into my world for a very brief period of time, she has challenged me.  In my previous post, I talked about volunteering for a cause and the homeless were = on my heart for a lot of last year. London is a city where the very wealthy flaunt their money and buy ridiculous things (₤25,000 50-years aged whiskey, anyone? Can I interest you in ₤1600 caviar?). Yet right beside the wealthy, the poor come out in hoards.

Sooooo this whole post has been a roundabout way to say that I am feeling led to help out with the London homeless population. I am not sure what way I can help out --- soup kitchen, shelters, street team, etc --- but I think this is where I want to be. I can't stand walking by people who are in need anymore and wishing that I could do something about it. Recently, someone said to me, "Tanisha, the people on the street --- most of them want to be on the street. I know. I've talked to them." And although I didn't know how to respond to him at that time because I am not a walking Encyclopaedia Brittanica of facts, my heart disagreed at this harsh rejection of the destitute. "Nobody really wants to live on the street," was all I said to him.

Do you really want to be out here?
I want to know your story
When I was walking by Starbucks once, I told the person I was with, "I don't like Starbucks. They're a horrible corporation. They make billions of dollars and give so little...there is more that they could do" (I get very judgemental around Starbucks). He listened to my moaning and complaining about big businesses and then said, "why don't you do something?" to which I had no response other than "yeah...you're right. I should!"

And now that I found something that I want to pour myself into, I guess it's time to get crackin'!

If you know a charity that needs a couple of extra hands or are involved with one, I would love to know. I am not sure which charity I want to volunteer with, but am now convinced I need to.

Never doubt that a small, group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. - Margaret Mead

Dear God,
I don't know this woman's story, I don't know who she is or where she came from. All I know is what I see, and I see that she is lost, lonely, and hurting. She is in physical agony and in spiritual pain. She is financially hurting and needs to be set free from the addictions that bind her. I can't help her physical pain, but You can. I can't free her from addictions, but You can show her the truth. I pray that she was able to find shelter last night, and that she finds someone who looks at her as not a dirty leper, but as another human in need. I pray that she is loved and experiences Your love and grace abundantly. I pray that there is healing in her life in all manners of the word. With relationships, with the spiritual, with the physical, with the emotional. You are a good and gracious father who can do all things, and I pray that you bless this woman today. Let her know that she is your beloved daughter. Pour out blessings into her life instead of the hurt and strife she has grown accustomed to. Renew her spirit, revive her, Lord God!
I pray for all those people involved in working with the homeless. Let them not become disheartened by the things they see, or the cyclical detrimental things some people do to themselves. Let them continue to love on and care for people who need it the most. Give them rest and fill the anew so that they may continue the good work they are doing.
I pray for myself and that you may bless me in this new direction that 2013 is taking me in. I pray that I can find a place to belong and an organization I can devote my time to. I pray that I do not become disheartened by things I may hear and see either. Prepare me and anoint me and lead me to be a light unto others. Let me be someone who can bring a message of hope. Let me be someone who can make a difference in even one life. There is no way I can do it by myself. 

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Year Was 2013...And She Began to Write Again

This year,
I will see beauty in people I meet.

This year,
I will not let your ugly perceptions of others taint my view of them.

This year,
I will judge less; I will listen more.

This year,
I will take your advice with a pinch of salt.
I can think for myself, thank you very much.

This year,
I will stand up for a cause I believe in.

This year,
I will make some noise.

This year,
I will shout from the rooftops.

This year,
I might get arrested for waking up the neighbourhood at 3am because I was too loud.

This year,
I will give more.
I will be less selfish.
I will support you in any way I can.

This year,
I will communicate better.
(It's a work in progress).

This year,
I will thank you for the compliments.
I will forget the insults.

This year,
I will dance.
I will sing.

This year,
I will make mistakes.
I will learn from them.
I will count on you to love me, despite your advice that I didn't take (because I thought I knew better, thank you very much)

This year,
I will laugh more.
I will pray more.
I will love more.

This year, I will be the best me I can be.