“A Year of Wishful Thinking” by Anastacia Tolbert

“A Year of Wishful Thinking” by Anastacia Tolbert

An Open Letter to my Son on his 18th Birthday

Dearest Brandin M. O. Tolbert,

I believe turning 18 is another RITE OF PASSAGE.

Your father and I spent countless hours daydreaming about what kind of person you would be. We knew right away you would handle life on your own terms based on my pregnancy. During the time I carried you I was sent to the hospital with so many bouts of early labor and in the end you decided to come late—when you felt like it. 

Happy Birthday just doesn't seem to capture the amount of love inside my heart for you. It doesn't seem to explain how both odd and amazing it is to see my heart walking around on its own, voting, on the way to college and with a mustache. You have morphed into your own person. You are no longer a small version of your father and I. You are a young man. 

You have been blessed with the gift of a nurturing family that loves and supports you and a host of family-friends who love you. You are fortunate to have a younger brother who has always loved you “big” and been your biggest cheerleader. It is in these words and in this space in your life that I want you to stop and give thanks. Give thanks for all your blessings. Give thanks for all the ways you've arrived at this point in your journey. I wish with all my might that you could embrace your new chapter with a manual or life map…but learn early none of us has one of those and to be quite honest if we did, we would still go the wrong way or have to take detours.

This past year has been the most emotionally challenging year you have ever had to endure and none of it is your fault. Through it all you have continued to strive to be your very best self. You have maintained your integrity, internal confidence and you haven’t succumb to the pressures of numbing yourself for the sake of “hard times” or taken a moral time out to be mired in anger or frustration. You are not perfect by any means but I've watched your imperfections morph into learned life lessons. Quite honestly, I am amazed at your resilience and it is one of the qualities I deeply admire and appreciate about you. 

Often when I look into your eyes I see the two year old who wanted to touch, taste, and smell everything. The five year old who questioned everything and the nine year old who wasn't afraid to state his opinion no matter whom he was stating it to. Your father and I knew you possessed the qualities of a leader and I am sure when you were growing up you remember that being one of the staple phrases of our household…”Brandin be a leader and not a follower.” We don’t question whether or not you heard us or not. 

During dinner I asked you what have been your biggest life lessons at 18. Your wisdom blows me away. I am listing them here for public record to share with others some of the wise things you've said and also as a reminder to YOU when you find yourself stressed or making small detours. :)

Brandin’s Wisdom at 18

Be true to yourself

Follow your gut

Don’t compromise who you are for anyone

Don’t dwell on drama

Don’t take adolescence too serious…you’ll have to grow up one day

People change whether you want them to stay the same or not. It hurts but it is a fact and you can’t change that they are changing

Don’t try to impress anyone

Take care of yourself before you take care of others

Value and keep the core of you. Other things might change about you but keep the core of who you are intact

High School social life is not as important as it seems sometimes. Education and true friends are

Learn to say “NO!” even if it may hurt others

Study

You can’t keep everyone you want and it hurts you but it is a fact

Have as much fun as possible 

Family is super important

Family-Friends are super important

Meditate or do something spiritual

Thank you Brandin for all the ways you have blessed your father and I. Happy 18th Birthday!!

We love you more than words can express.

Mom

Anastacia Tolbert’s work is a trellis of twilight, ultramarine ache and lowercase loam.

writer • performance artist • workshop facilitator

http://www.anastaciatolbert.com/

http://anastaciatolbert.blogspot.com/

sumimasennipponunderground.blogspot.com

Back

Round Trip:

Seattle to Japan

Grocery                Store                     of            Life 

Japan   to Seattle

Sometimes you get in your car and you drive because you have plans to go to the grocery store and come back to your new home. You have put this intention out into the world. You say: World, I am going to purchase milk, bread, eggs and butter.  Sometimes you drive farther than you need to because there is a particular grocery store or busy market you desperately want to go to. You see yourself getting there. You see yourself picking up the groceries and returning to your new home. You may even visualize yourself making a cake with these ingredients or a rich French something or rather.

This is exactly what my trip to Japan was to be about. I traveled far. I visualized that I would be a member of the Japan citizens club for three years. I visualized all the things I would see, do and feel. I embraced my Capricorn side and even made a list of all things Japan.

Here’s the thing: I made it to the store and didn’t buy eggs, milk, bread or butter at all. In fact, I picked up a different list of things and after arriving I decided my grocery store trip was over and that I wouldn't come back to my new home. 

I finally understand the life lesson wise and beautiful people talk about when they stare at you super seriously and slowly say, “You know…it isn't about the destination it’s about the journey.”

If ever I was beginning that new chapter in my life I always talk about beginning but sort of get cold feet... it’s now. If ever a time to make new lists it’s now. If ever a time to sacredly dispose of old list it’s now. If ever a time to poet, plot, purge, Pablo Neruda, and plan—it’s now.

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Dearest Japan,

Thank you for your people. Thank you for their resilience. Thank you for Japanese children sneak-smiling at me. Thank you vendors and Ramen Shop owners for allowing me to be a feisty, American Woman of Color half-ass-ing her Japanese language skills to communicate "eat" and "pee" "onegaishimasu!"

Thank you for your temples and all the spiritual ways you worship. Thank you for allowing me to grieve my losses in public and only staring at me briefly--mouths closed. Thank for understanding I show my toes in the summertime, I am not Yakuza AND I  have tattoos PLUS I still say bless you even when there are no demons to cast out.

Thank you for your vivid colors and endless vegetables. Thank you for your subway manners and for giving me the green light to slurp my soup like a two year old if I want to and I always wanted to. Thank you Japanese mothers for pretending not to notice I have an affinity for baby feet and baby cheeks. Thank you Japan for giving me two options to pee, one in the ground and one labeled “Western Style,” with sounds and lovely buttons to push. 

Thank you new friends for understanding I am slow to warm. Thank you brilliant Japan for the perfect way you weave simplicity and complexity in the form of so many things. Thank you for your technology allowing me to stay connected to my family and friends in the United States from the future. Thank you for your fashion and passion for shoes and all things accessories. Thank you for the way you operate on American pop culture and create new pop species.  

Thank you Japan for the generous living quarters you have given my family and I—despite the unpleasant history/herstory of them.

Thank you Japan for your holidays and secret streets. Thank you for your massively historical and branchy tree’s never hugging me but always letting me hug them. Thank you for your unexpected and expected beauty which sometimes doubles as grace. Thank you Japan for your life lessons, some of which I knew but didn't want to know, some of which I had no clue about until I reached your soil.

Domo Arigato Gozaimasu

With all my heart

Dear____________

Dear Cancer,

Murderer. Kiss my ass. I hate you. You are selfish and greedy and sneaky.

An odd way to begin a blog I realize, but this is where I am. And that is the best place to be so that I can clearly see where I am going.

In the last three months or so my family and other people close to me have been dealing with Cancer and other life suffocations. Over the weekend I was taped to the bed with a migraine. I find that when I am post-migraine and in yay I am a human again rest mode—I usually take a listen a bit more closely at what the universe wants me to hear. I heard the word release and I was like, “Get outa here universe!” But I get it. So I’ve begun a series of letters. Writing to objects, feelings, people, diseases etc. Of course these are not letters that can be mailed—and I can’t just walk over to Cancers house and deliver it
but it feels emotionally beneficial to get the words and feelings out in the open and on the page.

Dear Hair,

I really love you no matter what you look like, but today, I desperately want to shave you off and sweep up the all the tiny pieces in a neat pile.

I found that while I’ve been writing these miniscule and novel length letters—I’m breathing more deeply. As much as I deem myself as a no nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is/was/will/be/ kind of woman, honestly I still hold a lot in. And the “in” it goes probably isn’t healthy. Maybe you are so far evolved that you’ve been using this technique all along. Kudos and why didn’t you tell me? Or maybe…you might try it this week. 

Dear George Zimmerman,

_____________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________

…you get the point. Thinking of you from across the seas and from the future,
Anastacia

Please Don't Wait!!

And so it begins this New Year like a new tune I haven’t heard before. Like a book whose pages outnumber my minds capacity, whose pages make me want to skip ahead and see what’s next. (Perhaps a chapter about coming back to the states for the summer??)

Be mindful. This is what I keep telling myself. Mindful of what I am thinking. Mindful of what I am doing. For instance: I am trying to focus on the fact that I am typing this blog, not what’s for dinner, not who has what extracurricular activities this afternoon and what CNN.com says is going on in the world—and entertainment section. Be mindful that I am typing my heart out to whoever will read it. Be mindful. And I am…my mind is full of countless thoughts. Focus. I tell myself to focus on the purpose of this month’s blog. Pre-funeral expressions of love.

In light of all the recent celebrity deaths I want to remind/reiterate the idea of loving on folks WHILE THEY ARE LIVING. Eulogies are lovely life dedications. Everyone gets to express their sincerest emotions about a person they liked/loved who has transitioned. I think to myself, what would the world be like if humans did this whole eulogizing/outpouring of expression while we were alive. Simple things. Nothing extravagant. Just a second or two to express gratitude to the people in your life that mean the most to you. And isn’t it better to reach out to your ____________________ or _____________________while he/she is still very alive and tell her/him at least two things you love about them?

I want to dispel the “he/she already knows how I feel about them” myth right now. Perhaps she does. Perhaps he doesn’t. A re-run of love is a thousand times better than emotions never aired. Do it. Be mindful of your heart. I double-dog dare you.

New Chapter

oh mother moon
looks like you’ve got a story to tell
tell us. tell us at least half.
light our eyes like stars—pause our busy & our blue rays.
give us something to tell our neighbors.
tell the news. tell our children.
whisper one version here. one version there.
let us come together & cipher it out the next day.
let us all say i know… she told me too.

Having just witnessed a lunar eclipse in the heavens of Japan, I feel changed. It isn’t the kind of change that one would wear like a new scarf or sassy hat, nor is it the kind of change that happens rapidly like walking into a building in daylight and returning to a parked car in darkness. It is a simmering crock pot kind of change...or, picture the late 80’s when teen agers wore pleather jackets, penny loafers and white socks and got in long lines and did the “tic.” One upward then downward motion of the hand and wrist slowing moving to the elbow, then the upper arm, then the neck and head, then miraculously to the next person. Yes. This is the kind of change I am speaking of. Crock pot 80’s dance change.
Last I wrote I was still getting settled. If I told you that I was all settled and everything made sense now and was in perfect order I’d be the biggest blogger liar ever. What I can say is that I feel grounded. I feel less anxiety about NOT being settled. Most of my sad moments have to do with missing my comforts…have to do with me being a spoiled American. Has all to do with missing my family and friends. Has to do with being able to communicate with strangers. Has to do with me not being able to visit my favorite café on the daily and not being able to hug a stranger at least once a day. I am not settled but I am planted.
I am learning about Japanese culture and the Japanese language through O.J.L.T. (On the Job Life Training). I have visited several places. Each place having its own distinct energy. I can successfully navigate my way around a restaurant, train station or bathroom. I have learned by trial and fire what not to do in terms of my body language and without compromising the woman I am. I have—changed. I have worn others slippers and managed to put into perspective certain things I had an aversion to or didn’t understand fully. I have fallen in love with Tori Gates, Buddhist and Shinto temples, Japanese folklore, literature, herstory and pride. I have grown accustomed to bathless bathrooms, tiny kitchens and the most beautiful trees. I am fascinated by laundry and the story each garment blowing in the wind holds. I have learned to accept that streets are skinny and people on bikes are big. Fear of death is not a popular notion here. Fear at all is not a popular notion. I have changed. I need this talk of fear being what some call in the states false evidence of illusions appearing real. In my heart I want to be the woman on the bike zooming side by side a semi on a road no wider than a bowling lane fearlessly. (Okay so not really but you get it.)
I am entering a new chapter in my life. I remember being 21 wondering what kind of woman I’d be at 40. I remember I said I wanted to achieve the following: 1. Beauty inside and out 2.Career happiness 3. Traveling 4. Writing daily 5. Vegetarianism 6. An activist of some sort 7. Young looking 8. Great mom. If you asked me now what I want for myself at 40, some of those things on the list would definitely still be the same but I would add so much more. This whole 40 business has been simmering for a long time. Between welcoming in the New Year and welcoming a big birthday my life to do list is as follows (certainly not a complete list yet):
Be present and mindful
Celebrate/Honor/Value the people in my life (old and new)
Move forward past pain and judgment
Deepen my sense of joy
Empty out the tiny residue of fear(s)
Forgive
Breathe cleansing breaths often
Laugh more
Drink more water
Follow up with myself/love on myself the way I follow up/love on others
Take time to sometimes see myself as a child of the universe not an adult of the world
Hug more
Receive love
Verbalize my thoughts more
Climb Mount Fuji
Travel
Honor my writing time
Read more books (all subjects)
Yoga (Yes I still hate downward dog)
Spend more time with the elders in my life. I need their wisdom.
Spend more time with the teens/kids in my life. I need their wisdom.
Dance more
Not cut my hair for a year
Less coffee (yea right)
Meditate more
Learn the Japanese language
Recycle my own nuggets of wisdom
Burn negative thoughts.

As you read this stand up and get in line. Get in your 80’s teen mind frame. Get your arm ready for 2012. This tic’s for you. May it catch you and keep you until I write again.

With love and gratitude for each of you.
Anastacia

Quick Thoughts

Greetings!

If you are reading this, you are getting a message from the future. Check the global clock to find out what day and time it is in Japan.
A short letter to let you know I have arrived. Physically.
I still find myself adjusting and just when I think I've gotten adjusted, more adjustments. Fortunately I am adjustment-friendly and I'm doing a fairly good job. Three times a week a tremor reminds me that I am not in Seattle anymore. Last weeks typhoon raised the love and admiration I hold in my heart for trees. It got me to thinking about roots. Being uprooted. What happens when a tree is still breathing but uprooted. It grows again. Of course there has to be folks around to help replant her, but she grows again.

I am very much in the uprooted but growing stage. Those of you who have been following me on this blog know that 40 is up ahead. This whole move, plus 40, uprooted, grow again phase/stage/place is both horribly frightening and amazingly fantastic. Sort of like eating a melted ice cream cone, in a thin cup, while driving. Cheers and Kompai for melted ice cream folks.

I plan to blog furiously and consistently and would love it if you checked back and commented regularly.
Thinking of you all across the sea's.

Anastacia