May 1st, 2010
I can’t count the recent times I’ve claimed to have “writers block”. The truth sitting on my shoulders, adding this constant weight. I didn’t have writers block- I had “existing” avoidance. I’ve been floating, tiptoeing through life leaving barely an imprint on places, and people I’ve encountered. There’s always a poignant excuse for this sort of behavior. “Oh Amber, give it time, you just moved, you need to adjust, and you’ve practically started over”. All music to my stagnant ears, but fuel to an already pitiful and rapidly forming habit.
Excuses are an art-swirling reason, and twisting disadvantage to form whatever it is we are shaming away from. For me this has been the fear of not only failure…but of not being the best. Having to come to terms with the fact that I DON’T know what I NEED in order to accomplish what I WANT. I’m having to fight towards something that hasn’t been gently placed in my lap, or naturally easy for me. The realization that I fear imperfection has crippled me. It has taken me out of my game, and sat be on this bench of safety and reassurance….merely existing.
The beautiful part of coming to terms with your own lack. Is embracing the capability to ask for help. I have come to the feet of people that I should be setting an example for. That think I have everything together…and the result has been complete and utter humility, yet substantial growth. I may not have begun to even touch what I need to know to make bounds professionally. But personally, I have welcomed a diminished ego, and ultimately gained untarnished character.
So as the dust has settled from a whirlwind cross country trip. And life here in LA has started to take shape. I look around at the smudges. The words are becoming clearer. More than waiting for them to appear- I know I must pick up the pen, step around the “writers block” and start with one word. Today- that word is one. One step. One Day. Then One more…
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March 5th, 2010
Roads begin to pass like blinks of tired lashes. Each stop, each person, blurring into the skies’ smeared clouds. They’re tired, lifes’ burden weighing heavy beneath empty eyes. Historys’ monotony just repeating itself through different vessels…and through the thick patterns break soldiers. Ones who break their backs to forge their childrens’ way.
‘Grandpa Charles’ befriended us in memphis tennessee, concerning himself with the fact that we were too young to be ladies traveling alone. And everytime he took care of us his gruff voice would mutter ‘now that’s all I’m doing-you’re on your own now’ but he kept on…this man worked on sewer pipes at 14. His 8th grade education produced children that are now bio engineers, a nuclear science professional, and a physician. He’s tough…until his grandchildrens names come from his mouth- and he dissolves.
‘Uncle jim’- intrigued by our gutsy adventure…gave us the names of his family in san diego incase we needed anything. He lost the love of his life to cancer at 32…this man showed me such a pure, caring, heart that for a second, I never wanted to second guess the alterior motives that so many hide behind. He mentioned his love for travel, so we sent a book to his room about a man traveling across the US…something he’s always wanted to do. Now uncle jim calls to make sure we are safe.
‘Denny’- he was the quietest of our adopted family. That day, he became a great grandfather for the first time. The baby named after his wife. She recently passed.
In Hot Springs, I met Don. The owner of half of this city…’asshole’ he explained people usually referred to him as. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was telling me so much about his life. And my eyes smiled, because I knew I was one who truly listens. He taught me how to buy a car, and pointed out his dirty shoes were to ensure people didn’t treat him different because of his wealth. Don never went to college, his sons are both doctors, and his special addition corvette sits in a climate control garage for his little grandson. He had just bought a new car for his wife. She broke her leg and couldn’t get in and out of his truck anymore…she has MS. Right then he handed me 20 dollars, told us to play mini golf…on him. So tomorrow we will pass that 20 onto the woman that sits on the bench with her suitcase and her garbage bag….and she will smile too…with her eyes.
So their weary looks brighten with pride-not for what they have done, but for what their babies have grown to do…surpassing the dreams they’ve once had, and turning their lives into wind to the backs of the young
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February 25th, 2010
“I keep everyone at a safe distance, that way they can’t hurt me. And if they try…I never cared anyway”. A justified statement from a woman who lost her only son at 19 in a boston fire. The same woman who’s husband left her for his 20 yr old secretary, and then begged to come back when it didn’t work out, and also the same woman who built her best friend a house as a gift, and was rejected for the seemingly infinite time. Gail stands about 5ft tops. She talks with New Englands thickest accent, and tough skin to match. But as I watch her tell these stories about her life, I wonder how many people, except lily her cat really listen. Or if she even tells anyone anything anymore in fear of her lifes track record continuing on and leaving behind hurt. I listened and clung to every word she said, because for all I know, I’m possibly the only one to ever hear that for the first time in 11 years she visited her sons grave. And as she explained how the sky seemed to open up and rain began to pour on her…a weight was lifted. This little italian woman left a mark on my life. The thought of her past, and her bleek present…made me want to love her. And although I most likely will never see her or hear another gritty story, I will periodically pray that God does bring someone into her life, besides lily, that shows her what love is. And again, I’m reminded…that this life is comprised of chance meetings with beautiful people. And I will never be the same after their impact…and hopefully the same rings true for them.
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February 1st, 2010
Date: Feb 1, 2010- flight relocating to LA
Song: Big Jumps- Emiliana Torrini
Choosing to be plucked out of my own monotonous comfort and plunged into the city of the so called ‘rat race’. I have to find, and maintain a purpose aside from that which everyone else lives by. Knowing the free spirit I am- I fear how far away from my roots I’m capable of falling…and yet because i fear it, I see I’m at least aware.
I dont believe that this move is self seeking, I feel its ‘growth seeking’. Something that will challenge, yes, but it will also burn away the lingering chaff of a life I once lived. My graceful mother sees it as an unnecessary jump of youth…but to me its the great adventure to give my little beating heart a massive opportunity to offer something that illuminates. It HAS to be about people. Not money, not recognition, but individuals. Each having that one indispensable quality about them…that makes them capable of so much more. And the chance to learn what that may be and help channel it into change…thats what I’m about.
So my good bye’s to all those that are the fuel behind me, the very ground I stand on- hold me accountable to be separate from the place in which I live. I will give the sunshine your regards 
Love love love
Amber E
“Leaders touch a heart before they ask for a hand. Thats the law of Connection. But before a leader can touch a person’s heart, he has to know whats in it. He learns that from listening”
- 21 irrefutable laws of leadership by John Maxwell
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January 29th, 2010
new illustration by Jason Gould
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