Will You Be There?

When I was little I didn’t want to be a princess or firefighter. Do little girls even want to be firefighters? My family was never good at playing the what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up-game. My oldest brother wanted to be a taxidermist. Like that makes any sense. Name one little kid who wants to be a taxidermist and turns out sane. The other brother wanted to be a priest because they get to drink wine. AA much?

I wanted to be a Marine Biologists. Although, I called it a Free Willy trainer.

Somewhere along the line I realized that I had a fear of sharks, and sadly they too are marine animals. So I abandoned the biologist thing REAL fast. But I have always had a fond liking for cetaceans.

Recently, I watched a documentary called The Cove. (If you have Netflix go watch it right now. It is instant). It took me two years to work up the courage to watch this movie. I knew it would break my heart. The documentary focuses on the massive dolphin slaughtering in Taiji, Japan, and the selfless work of Ric O’Barry in his quest to end cruelty to cetaceans.

Ric O’Barry was one of the trainers for the original Flipper TV series. After Kathy, the main dolphin who played Flipper, committed suicide in O’Barry’s arms, O’Barry committed his life to freeing confined dolphins. During The Cove, O’Barry is asked how many times he has been arrested; his response is “This year?”

For over 45 years O’Barry has dedicated his life to fixing a wrong he felt responsible for. And while watching this film I found myself in absolute awe. If I could live my life with an ounce of O’Barry’s passion I would be complete. O’Barry felt responsible and he wanted to change things.

And he is changing things.

It’s a sad reality, but O’Barry inspires hope.

All I want to do when I grow up is be passionate, inspire others, wonder in absolute awe. I might not be able to save dolphins from captivity but I can save myself from being confined. I can break through my fears (I suppose that includes the shark one).

I can make a difference.

And so can you.

A Village in the Clouds

We woke up before dawn with our packs on and loaded the back of the truck. It was about 30 years old and was reminiscent of one of those supply trucks from World War Two. We loaded it with milled lumber, fish netting, plastic jugs, a finished door, and two windows. We climbed on top and started the drive further up into the mountains. Some slept, others passed around water bottles and coca leaves. Locals would jump on and off the truck taking it part way to easy their own journey. Anything anyone had was offered instantly to anyone.

Around mid-day we reached the end of the road. We met some villagers with two donkeys to take some of the supplies, The rest had to be carried. A young boy named Elvis eagerly took my pack so I ended up taking an eight foot post over my shoulder. We started our journey in the truck above tree line so we were about 15,000 feet at this point. I had been in country for about a week and the altitude hadn't really hit me much thanks to the coca leaves and tea. But, every breath I took was more shallow than the last. After only a few steps I felt stabbing pains in my chest, and felt as though my brain had been replaced with helium.

A half hour in, with no path just a thin line of villagers and my compañeros making their way over the bare mountains. Just small lakes and grasses. I have been wheezing for the past twenty minutes and was relived to notice so was my friend who was nicknamed "superman" in the states. Those of us with the lumber on our backs (and used to living in a lower country) lagged further and further behind. Yet, just as everyone else we were witness to how villages in the sky experience weather. All at once. There were five minute periods where it would be hailing in the sunshine. Foggy and Hot. Bitter cold and wind. Superman and I began to talk about how great its going to be to get indoors. All we have to do is just get to where we are going.

So we march forward. The line of people ahead of us had vanished for some time but around the next bend we hear voices. Our slogging pace quickens. Once we're crest the final hill we are shocked to see no buildings (the village is still a quarter mile away) there is just the villagers come to greet us and thank us for our help. Then the skies open up and a rain/snow/hail congratulates us on our trek. I set down the lumber open my arms wide, tilt my head back and open my mouth.

Ben and Jerry's vomit.

I thought of a particular (and might I say hilarious) instance that I want to share… When I was an Resident Assistant, I would often leave my door open so that my residents could pop in with any questions, concerns, a quick hello, or just to chat. This particular evening was one of the first few weeks of school and three girls from the floor stayed in my room for hours on end, sitting at my kitchen table, eating, talking and laughing. One girl, Frankie, ran downstairs and got a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream to snack on while we talked. She ate it rather quickly and washed it down with a big glass of water. I suppose something particularly funny must have happened (I cannot quite remember) because suddenly Frankie projectile vomited watery ice cream down her shirt and onto her legs amidst a splutter of laughter and coughing. The other two girls were disgusted and possibly embarrassed that I had witnessed such an absurd series of events, but I threw myself onto my bed in a fit of laughter that went on for what seemed like ten minutes.

And our laughter changed everything. Since we opened ourselves to the hilarity of the situation, there were no more barriers to knock down, nothing to hide behind, no reason to pretend. Our friendship became genuine, accepting and (obviously) filled with laughter. Frankie and I laughed. Right there amidst the vomit, the empty Ben and Jerry’s container and the Clorox wipes, we laughed. Frankie could have easily suffered in embarrassment or shame, but she laughed, cleaned up, changed her clothes and came right back to sit at the kitchen table and continue our conversations. She made me realize what vomiting up ice cream can really do for a relationship! Frankie was comfortable enough with herself to laugh, I was comfortable enough with myself to laugh; we were liberated, but our outward expression of unrestrained laughter liberated the other. She avoided the feelings of embarrassment and shame not only by her own laughter but also in our laughter, in the wordless physical expression that laughter held for us. She didn’t need to apologize for making a mess and I didn’t need to assure her that I didn’t care—the laughter said it all.

The art of humor is something that stems from intellect and ignites both the heart and the mind. In laughing at the absurdity of a situation, be it something we are or are not related to, gives us a new perspective. We laugh because we see something we have never seen before or something we have seen a million times in a completely new light. Humor makes people think. It’s the best of both worlds, an emotional release and a rational expression that has the power to build relationships.

--mt

The Right Words For All Occasions

A long time ago I received a thank you card in the mail. Thank you cards aren’t really anything out of the ordinary, until you realize that it is from your brother. My relation isn’t the best at sending cards. He tries. So, I guess that’s all that matters? (Tell that to the people who sent you that lovely hand knitted sweater for your birthday.) Inside of the card my brother wrote, “It’s a comfort to know we can count on each other through whatever life brings.” I know, I know, how adorable is my brother? I almost got teary eyed when I read the thank you, until I finished (not e to self: one should always finish what one is reading). After the initial heartfelt confession, my brother wrote “Just kidding, I state that line from ‘The Right Words: For all Occasions.’” And then it all made sense.

I busted out laughing.

His sincerity was sweet, but it didn’t really feel like him. Something was off. Adding “Just kidding” became the right words for the occasion. I was filled with more joy and love knowing my brother was trying to make me laugh, than the corny phrase that never really says anything even though it is supposed to say everything.

When someone tries to make you laugh, they are trying to make you happy. There is nothing which conveys how much a person cares than the steps they take to make you laugh.

odd thoughts for a twelve year old

I never really got into Pokemon. It wasn't because I was too cool for it or too old. I remember I was about twelve when it first became popular in the US. The TV show was on and everyone had the video game for their game-boys. I wanted to be part of this new and exciting thing. But the more I learned the more I was repulsed.

So this kid leaves home to participate in forcing animals to fight each other for entertainment. That part I couldn't get around no matter how hard I tried. I tried to play the video game but something just didn't feel right. Those cute little animals were cooped up in these tiny cages only let out to torture each other at the request of their "masters".

What concerned young Three Feathers even more was that nobody else seemed concerned. I mean twelve year old me knew it wasn't real. It was a fictitious world. But what a hell that must be for those poor animals. I didn't understand how this could become popular.

As the years passed and this fad became less important in my mind until nearly all memory of it faded away I stumbled upon a drawing I made in fifth grade. There is a cute furry creature trapped in a small cage. With the words "I don't understand" written over it.

Perhaps somewhere in this ridiculous situation is where you can find the origins of Three Feathers the activist.

silliness.

A teacher asked a class I was in how we would know when we were “adults.” The first thing that came to my mind was that adults laugh less than children do. When I expressed this, my teacher was shocked, even horrified, by my response and told me to never stop laughing…

It reminded me of another teacher who told me, when I left school due to a deep depression, to spend my time away being silly. I laughed when she said it and brushed it off, but two years later, looking back, silliness and laughter have brought me further than I had expected. What would the world look like if we were all a little bit sillier?

These memories bring me to these questions: What do we value in our society and why? Is humor, is joy, undervalued? Do they have value? What is that value? What have they done for you and how have they done it?

One of my favorite sounds in the world is the laughter of my younger sister. I’m not quite sure why, but when she watches South Park late at night when I am at home, I leave my door open, just a crack, so that I can hear her. Sometimes I watch certain movies with her just because I know how much they make her laugh (i.e. Christmas Vacation).

I suppose if adulthood really is the ceasing of laughter, I say, fuck it; let’s embrace childhood like nobody’s business. To be honest, maybe I will anyway… There is a wisdom in childhood that I’m not sure I’m ready to lose sight of.