Tag Archives: Storytelling

Universe, Synchronicity, and the past

July 15, 2021 Vic Leave a comment

It’s so strangely beautiful the way the universe works. There is a synchronization that occurs when we lean in and trust the journey. We can reflect on our past and see the connections that existed to now, even knowing that back then we had no clue. This day 12 years ago I’d been medevac’d from Iraq for a colluded airway, Tonsillitis. I was in the midst of my trauma, struggling to find meaning and connection. I chose to go back to Iraq rather than have my tonsils removed (and go home) and for a long time I held that decision against myself. I’ve since forgiven myself, but not forgotten. Facebook helps me remember and find healing from my trauma. The following “note” from this day 12 years back is no less true today.

Las Vegas, NV

We’re All Just Stories in the End

July 15, 2021 Vic Leave a comment

Several times this week I’ve found myself thinking “If only others could read this blog I’m writing in my head, they’d be inspired!” So here I am, taking myself back to the blog to take things out of my head, and maybe… just maybe… inspire others.

When I last left you I was telling the story of my wandering across Spain on the Camino de Santiago, almost 2 years ago. A lot has happened in that time. I now find myself in Las Vegas, a place I would’ve preferred to never return. It brings back the week after my miscarriage, drunken and grieving on the very steps I’m sitting on now, 8 years ago. This time I’m here for growth, for learning, for connecting.

I’m attending a conference where the courses I’m taking focus on leadership, team building, and strategy. I’m still a wanderer, but now I wander the stories of those in close proximity to me. I wander the lives of those struggling to survive, hoping to impart wisdom and able to impart financial assistance. It’s a role that empowers my inner wild woman, while simultaneously being wrought with struggle and anxiety. This is the culmination of years of wandering and hearing the stories of others.

We are, after all, just stories in the end. A series of short stories, chaotic chapters, and lengthy novels. The journey to wander is the longest inside us.

We are, inside each of us, a winding labyrinth that continues to move through ourselves over and over, developing the next step. If you’ve been lucky enough to buy one of this series you know that you’re endlessly connected to the others, known and unknown, who have also purchased one of these pieces.

People watching is almost as interesting as hearing their stories. So here I sit in vegas, wondering about all of the many stories I watch walk past. The Indian gal who picked up a diaper from the path to throw it away. The couples dressed to the nines, gorgeous and grand. The families and couples. The mother and daughter signing words to each other. So many stories untold to me, but lived every day.

I want to put up a sign that says “Tell me a story” and see who stops. On the Camino we were always telling our stories to each other. As a leader I hear the stories of my team and of the households they help. I have my own story, so often untold, until a kindred spirit insisted. I’m a human body full of so many stories, my own and others. Many get locked deep in a chest to respect and honor the storyteller. Many I get to pass on in tidbits of wisdom shared by others. Many are stories of how I’ve encountered my own wisdom.

This conference has such a focus on taking time to hear the stories of those in our agencies. They talk about development, about GROWTH, and how that means we can’t one-size fits all our leadership. It may seem easier to project my own motivations, desires, and needs on others… but easier is not connective, healing, “agape” love.

So I’ve wandered into a new space of introspection and extrospection. I watch people in the world around me a little closer. I make eye contact with love in my eyes and if I’m lucky enough to have someone impart their story on me… well I try my hardest to love them, see them, and honor them.

After all, we’re all just stories in the end, and stories are beautiful.

Camino de Santiago Frances, Spain

Buen Camino, Good Afternoon – Day 2

August 5, 2019 Vic Leave a comment

I don’t think there will be enough pages in this journal to tell my whole story. Apparently on paper I am as wordy as in person, maybe to make up for the lack of human interaction yesterday. At dinner last night no one spoke enough English, it just added to my exhaustion.

So today I didn’t make myself get up early. I set my alarm for 7:00 a.m. and when it went off I was the only one left. I took my time getting ready, repacking, eating breakfast, and doing foot care. I was going 15 km (11ish miles) and was fine talking all day. I hit the trail and met with Rosa and Empara again. They had stayed in Roncesvalles and received a blessing at mass. They passed it on to me through a hug. My feet were feeling a bit better thanks to my panaway oil. I was moving slow though, so they went on head of me. I was walking and enjoying the last coolness of the day when I heard an Australian accent behind me, it was Alice. I had met her the previous day, but then forgotten in my exhaustion. She was chatting with an American from California, Jack. Allen, Canadian, and Izzy, British, came along shortly and we made an interesting group of native English speakers. The fun thing about traveling in a group of many strangers is that at different points we would fall into different walking groups. The trail didn’t really allow for us to walk side by side all the time. It allowed us to have individual conversations and get to know each other based on mutual interests. It’s a good reminder that not everyone will always be interested in ever topic, and that is okay! It was interesting conversation within the group. It was interesting to get to know more about the respective locations they each live in. We all came from different backgrounds, but still felt connected because of our mutual desire to walk the Camino.

Back home, Jack, had worked for a poitician as an aid. Allen drives a Ferry Boat in Vancouver. Izzy was working for an NGO. Alice is currently in between positions. It is interesting the diverse work backgrounds we come from, in addition to the diverse countries and cultures. We discussed all kinds of life situations. I shared about my time in the military. So far I hadn’t mentioned my veteran status to anyone on the trail. I also hadn’t interacted at any length with too many people. I felt awkward and like it was inappropriate to identify myself as a veteran. This sensation came from my uncertainty about the response that individuals around the world have towards veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan War. Through discussing NGO’s, I brought up Team Rubicon and how it is in the USA, UK, Canada, Australia, and continuing to grow. This led to identifying as a veteran which led to discussion about my time during the wars and in the military. They were sensitive to how I felt discussing it, but I told them what I most often say. “It’s never easy, but I feel it’s valuable to discuss it in order to destigmatize it.” Most often when I say this I mean it. This time though, something inside of me felt like a robot. I think the nature of this pilgrimage has had me on edge. The emotions are moving to the surface. Eventually the subject changed naturally and I was glad to move on. Also at one point I literaly found 20 Euro.

Despite the physical pain from yesterdays walk, I made great time. It helps to walk with other people because my stride just naturally matched theirs. They were moving quite fast, but as long as we were talking I didn’t feel it. When we reached the bridge that crossed into Zubiri we all sat down, exhausted. I took my shoes and socks off and was so blissful to be barefoot. Only a portion of the group planned to stop in Zubiri. At that point we kind of parted ways, because I was not yet ready to stand up and go look for the room I had booked. The others hadn’t booked ahead like me, so they went off to search for their own bed in an Albergue that wasn’t full yet. It was still early in the afternoon, about 1pm, so there was a lot of time to fill our days. The day had grown quite hot, typical for early August in Spain. Upon crossing the old roman bridge that led into the town the evidence of an ongoing festival laid before me. Many of the establighments were closed not only because it’s Sunday, but also because of the festival. The square had families with children, just lounging. The kids were wearing these human size puppet costumes and running around. The costumes reminded me of a life sized Punch and Judy show.

The Albergue I stayed at was a small space for eight people in four bunk beds, located just off the square called Albergue Zaldiko. Today was the first day of laundry, seeing as I only have two changes of clothes. I thought I would use the washer in my Albergue, but it was 6 Euro for the wash and no dryer. Lots of people were coming into the Albergue and I had yet to each lunch, so I made my escape from the crowded space. Just down the block was an open bar that appeared filled with Pilgrims. I figured that was as good a shot and I didn’t have to hunt another option down. Upon entering the bar I ran into the French girl I met yesterday coming down the mountain. You remember, the one I yelled “Because I’m Dumb!” at? Well she didn’t hold my outburst against me and invited me to sit down with her and eat lunch. We had great conversation over mediocre food serve with french fries. She had started her Camino further back in France on one of the French routes to Saint Jean. For her this was a very religious experience and important to her spiritual well being. It was really delightful to hear her perspective of the Camino and what it was like on the trail in France. The trails before Saint Jean do not have the solid infrastructure available on the “official” path that we are currently walking. She had to be more clever and connect with the churches to find places to stay.

She was not planning to stay in Zubiri, but continue on that night. However, by the time we finished eating it was 3pm and she decided that maybe she would look for a room. We checked at my Albergue, but they were full up except for a more expensive private room. She opted to search for a more affordable option. Most Pilgrims are on a very strict budget, so ideally a bet can be booked for 10 Euro or less. We agreed to meet in an hour and go to the river together. During our lunch I had mentioned that I needed to do laundry and wondered if she wanted to go in on the machine together. She told me about how the “Pilgrims Way” is to wash the clothing by hand in the sink and hang it to dry. I know how to do this, but I worry that I won’t get my clothes clean. After she went to find a bed for the night and wash her own laundry. I saw other people washing their clothes in the sink and decided to try my best and see how it went. I got water everywhere, but the clothes got washed (or at least a solid rinse). While I was doing laundry there was a giant parade outside to go along with the town festivities.

By the time I had finished my laundry everything had calmed back down. I opted to go sit in the shade and pluck on the Ukelele I brought with me. I don’t often get shy about things, but with the Ukelele I was very shy. I don’t have a good grasp on it, and so my nerves go up when I try playing around others. The street wasn’t busy, so I figured this was a good time to try it out. I lost myself in playing, just like I had by the river in Bayonne. There is just something about strumming the ukelele that calms my soul. A Camino cyclist came by and smiled at me playing, his smile touched his eyes. It made me glad I had decided to play. His kindness gave me courage. I had really debated bringing this extra weight with me, but today Iam grateful for the extra weight.

Alice came by and chatted with me while I was waiting for the French Girl. She said she had seen her at the other albergue washing laundry. Alice invited me to the river, but I said we would catch up and I would wait for the French Girl. Despite an hour long lunch together, I do not yet know the French Girls name, which is why I keep calling her “the French Girl.” Maybe I had learned it and forgotten it. It’s only been two days, but I feel like I have been on the trail for forever. I was determined to suck up any potential embarassment and ask her name. I knew I was likely going to have to do this a lot on the trail, so I my as well start now.

Her name is Cecilia, Ceci. We went to the river, but couldn’t find Alice. We did find some rocks we could sit in with our feet in the water. Even though today was much shorter than yesterday, my feet were still beaten and hurting. The water was an elixir of life for my poor feet. Ceci and I sat there, soaking our feet, and talked about all kinds of things. The political struggle, negative beliefs of our respective societies on others, religion, how we each experience the world, and she taught me some French things about Love. She said that I am right in thinking that the French are experts in love. She encouraged me to play my ukelele for a while and while this was happening, and young spanish boy came up and started to squirt me with his water gun. He didn’t speak english, but he did speak French. So between my spanish and Ceci’s French we had a fun conversation with him. We followed our river time up with an early dinner at 6pm. I mean early by European standards. It was an enjoyable evening and now I shall go to sleep, feeling connected.

This ends Day 2 on the trail, 13.5 miles per my phone and 15km per my guide.

Camino de Santiago Frances, CO, Denver

Tomorrow’s Tide

July 31, 2019 Vic Leave a comment

It feels like it should just be any other night. It isn’t though. Tomorrow the woman takes on a new mountain, or will it end up being a mole hill? She doesn’t know, there are so many unknowns. She comes and goes in life like a ride on the shores. What will become of her in this next chapter of the journey. She is taking a leap of faith, not because she’s running away from something or seeking something. She is taking on this journey to experience herself in a new way. She sits on the porch, staring up at the sky, knowing she’ll see these same stars, only thousands of miles from home. It’s scary, she misses her home already. She misses her people and the life she has stepped back from. She chose this journey because she needed to pause. The woman is afraid that once she’s paused for so long she’ll forget how to get moving again. She yearns to hold calm inside herself and never let go, that is why she’s going to walk and walk and walk. Some fear for her safety, while she fears for her sanity. So she’ll go to be with the earth and nature and herself. She’ll face trials and tribulations. She is likely to face an abyss, a breakdown, a spiritual awakening. She’ll find redemption, forgiveness, and salvation. She’ll return to her known world with new wisdom from around the world. She’s scared, sad, joyous, and excited all at once. She already feels exhausted. Her armor is self-care, connection, and love. She’s resilient and a fighter. She’s a warrior walking into a garden to meditate. The woman will be better than okay. She will thrive through adversity and adventure.

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Searching for Narnia

January 17, 2017 Vic Leave a comment

I dream of impossible things. In my actual dreams at night I see images of oddly dressed people or creatures, las creaturas, that are from fables. They want to take me out into a field and tell me that all things are possible, that I can search for Narnia. They are trying to point the direction I must go. The field is dull and dingy and the sky is overcast, the color of the landscape is poor and unremarkable. There are walls in areas that block the view. There are people from the normal world that follow me saying that there is no Narnia. It is almost a horrific dance in a way, the push and the pull between the impossible people and the possible people. I watch as walls are built by these impossible people.

I use all the worldly logic to argue with the fairy creatures and beasts who speak of things that do not exist and we are incapable of. I am an impossible person. I listen to those people from my normal world that have followed me to insist that I cannot fly, and that there is no Narnia. They insist that the world is black and white, or simply shades of gray. They’ve convinced me that every Zebras skin is exactly the same as any other and old dogs will never learn new tricks. The impossible people encourage me to believe that things are impossible. That people will always cheat the system if they can. That we need to guard and defend from those who want to use us, even at the expense of those who may truly need us.

There is this part of me that pulls to the faeries and las creaturas, the comical beasts which speak not in plain tongue, but in a voice that I understand in my soul. These beasts and oddly dressed beings, the nymphs and the leprechauns, the unicorns, the Amarok, the Yeti’s, the Geni’s and the Giants, the Gnomes and the Elves, La Loba; they speak in a way that sings to my soul of the possibility in life. They seek to pull me in to their dance and away from the impossible people and the impossible part of me. They draw me through the walls that are my barrier and further into the field. As we dance the field blooms with color and possibility. They show me magic and mystery and the belief in everything being possible. They surround my heart in love, even love for the impossible people, and they teach me I don’t have to live as an impossible person, even if I live among them. Without words they encourage my soul to go and journey and be me.

The words for this dream slip from my fingertips onto the page just as quickly as the images begin to disappear from my awoken mind. The urgency with which I felt the need to write these things speaks loudly to my awake self. Dreams are the communication between the conscious and the subconscious. It is the place that tells me I am starting to heal, or starting to turn in a good direction. It is where the depths in myself communicates, processes, and guides me through the struggles of my awake life. My dreams are not normally good places as I work to process past traumas. This dream did not start as a good dream. It changed though, it changed into an impassioned possible thing. As I tossed off the hold of the impossible people my soul was given the chance to express and inspire my waking moments. It is the part of me that spent several hours on the phone Monday with my best friend making plans to do incredible things and have incredible adventures. It is the part of me that I worry I will lose and I work so hard to keep.

It is so easy to get jaded in our day to day lives that often it seems like we are impossible people living in a dull world surrounded by other impossible people. It is at the end of the day where I am tired, cranky, and jaded that I look back and I cry tears for building a wall of impossibility in my day and letting it affect my attitude. The creatures in my dream showed me magic and hope and most importantly love. With movement and song we journeyed in my mind and were possible. I believe this can be my waking journey as well.

I am daily working to implement new things which provide good self-care. I know that I will stop searching for Narnia if I do not give care to myself. I know that more things will become impossible because I fail to take care of myself in the best possible ways. I dream these dreams because my subconscious knows that we are headed in the right direction and it is encouraging me on. My inner Wild Woman is reminding me to dance and to be a possible person.

Whatever your dreams, at night or just for life, be a possible person and you can do it. Practice self-care and set your eyes on the prize. Journey through the dingy fields and the dark forests following the light of possibility till you find your colorful field that you can dance in (metaphorically or literally). Let your dreams and desires be the creatures that lead you to your Narnia. Don’t give up. Keep searching for Narnia, and little by little we may find it.

Original Post on Medium.

Kansas City, MO

Remember 3 Months…

January 12, 2017 Vic Leave a comment

I received the fortune pictured here while out with my coworkers for the monthly Birthday lunch at Bo Ling’s in Kansas City. The food was fine, but this fortune was even more memorable: “Remember three months from this date! Your lucky star is shining.” For 3 months I have had this sitting on my desk, reminding me of the future to come. Every once in a while I would tell my coworkers the date that this fortune should come true and we would imagine what the day would hold. I think my coworkers thought it was a joke at first when I said I was marking my calendar for 3 months from October 11, 2016. They had only known me a month and they rapidly found out that I am a high-spirited very-imaginative free spirit.

As the 3 month date drew closer I kept asking what people thought would happen. At this point I had dressed up as multiple characters for work and randomly brought sweet treats and gifts. We were all hoping for something spectacular to come on January 11, 2017. Secretly in my head I was conspiring to meet the love of my life and get married or come by some windfall that sets me up for my career. I imagined being gifted something exciting or getting a raise. I thought maybe something special would happen at work, or we would find an answer for a client that solved their problems right away.

So I woke up on January 11, 2017 and as I performed my new morning ritual with an extra bounce in my step I applied make-up, which is not often a work day task. I packed my lunch, made my cup of coffee, and made sure I was wearing pants (I may occasionally almost go to work in PJs). I drove to work listening to Tribe by Sebastian Junger, which is quite inspiring. My day started off with clients that are looking to improve their lives and working alongside some coworkers that I think are just fantastic. My AmeriCorps partner was wearing an outfit similar to mine. I only now regret not taking a photo together to show off. I had a lot of things to accomplish today and not too heavy of a schedule. As time went by I accomplished much, but time was going slow. My partner and I did our regular team download and brain storming (aka Coffee Run). We all ate lunch together and problem solved together. We laughed together and we joked about what was so special to come. Our supervisor was out of the office today, but that never makes much difference, so that didn’t seem too special.

As the day wore on the team consensus was that I needed to play the lotto. The thing about that is that I have only ever played the lotto one other time and I was super embarrassed when I had to ask how it worked at the gas station as I bought the ticket. I have always earned my luck, it’s rarely been just handed to me. So my co-workers were kind enough to explain the process and then upon seeing my still confused face they wrote down specifically what I was supposed to ask the gas station attendant for. I said that I would hold the note and read it verbatim. That is exactly what I did.

In addition to the normal work day I trouble shot some travel details for a Team Rubicon Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training that we have coming up soon in Omaha. The task was stressful, but came out perfectly because team work makes the dream work and I love my TRibe. I chatted with a guy on Tinder that seems really nice, funny, and has great eyes! I felt good in my body because it’s Day 11 of not smoking. My apartment is clean, I rode the stationary bike (finally), and I took the time to meditate. I have said my prayers and read some books. I even treated myself to a delicious pizza. I used a new face wash that makes my face feel so soft.

So here I am, 30 minutes till the end of January 11th and I don’t think that as I crawl into bed anything really spectacular or different than usual will occur.

For $8 all together I let my imagination hope for something big to happen

The results for the Power Ball and the Missouri Lotto came out and I did not win at either. The gas station attendant had pointed out that if I had brought the fortune we would use the numbers on the backside. I left the actual slip of paper at my office. Tomorrow, just for fun, I will compare the winning numbers to those on my fortune. I also played a scratcher, and won nothing. What I find all the more amazing is that nothing matched, not a single number, on any of them. I suppose if luck is real and there is a zombie apocalypse I will be the first bitten.

But as I said, I have never just been given luck, I have always worked for it. I am not disappointed however in how today turned out. With the new year I have been dreaming of adventures in foreign places doing new things. This yearning was not fulfilled today, but in looking for my shining star I paid close attention to every aspect of my day. This allowed me to really invest in myself and my actions to try and make every moment the best possible moment. This is the idea behind setting goals, and we just need to believe it with as much imagination as me and my coworkers paid attention to January 11th.

Everyday can be a metaphorical January 11th because we can make it that way. The things I listed that happened today I was able to find great amounts of gratitude for them, knowing that in reality it was unlikely I would win the lotto tonight. I have hope for great things in my life, and you know what? I am going to keep this fortune on my desk and set a note in my calendar for 3 months from today. I don’t think my lucky star will ever stop shining, because I work hard for it, but… just in case… I will “Remember 3 months from today.” I will dream, I will hope, I will imagine, and I will keep making my own luck.

Make your own fortune and mark the calendar. What are you going to hope for? What are you going to work towards to create your own luck? I know you can do it! Good Luck!

Original Post on Medium

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