Give Yourself Permission to be Curious

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 🧐

I was in 9th grade when it happened.

I remember the walk down the narrow halls of Community High School, as I made my way toward, “Introduction to Literature.”

“Please don’t be taken.”

“Please don’t be taken.”

“Please don’t be taken.”

I felt my stomach turn as I turned the handle to either my greatest dream or my worst nightmare.

“Please don’t be taken.”

As I opened the door, it was still there.

The spot in the far, right corner of the room.

The place where I could never be seen.

“Excuse me.”

“Excuse me.”

I placed the pile of 📚 onto the wooden desk to cover half of my upper body.

Then, I slid down the plastic chair to cover the rest.

The rest of my time was spent waiting for the big, round clock, to strike 09:40 AM.

Hoping not to be called on to read out loud.

I repeated such routine for months.

I didn’t expect this day to be any different.

Yet, it was.

The day that changed the trajectory of my life.

I remember as she made her way toward the center of the room.

“Please don’t call on me,” I whispered under my breath.

She proceeded by addressing the entire class.

I don’t remember much of what was said.

I just remember her final words.

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question.”

It took a while to process her words.

Part of me didn’t believe what I just heard.

Then, I felt it.

The sense of freedom or liberation.

I no longer had to ask questions that other people wanted to know answers to 🤯

For years, I kept my hand down.

I didn’t think others wanted to know what I wanted to know.

Her words gave me the permission to ask questions about anything.

Why❓

When❓

Where❓

How❓

What❓

Her words gave me the courage to pursue education of my own terms.

Thank you, Judith DeWoskin, for opening the door to a completely different 🌎

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 🧐

When should you visit your birth country?

“When should I visit my birth country?”

On two separate occasions, I had such thought.

The first happened when I was in college.

I remember sitting across one of my college advisors, as he showed me a catalog of programs in Moscow, Saint Petersburg, Nizhny Novgorod.

With each turn of a page, my eyes lit up even more.

What was once a dream slowly becoming a reality.

I couldn’t wait to visit the town I was born in.

I couldn’t wait to see some of my family members.

I couldn’t wait to create new memories with old friends.

Weeks had passed.

I was still determined to make my dream a reality.

I wrote essays to scholarship funds, spoke to former students who had studied at some of these programs, traveled to Washington DC to renew my Russian passport.

All that was left to do was renounce my Russian citizenship, as I couldn’t travel on the US passport while being a citizen of the visiting country.

Then, I found out about the mandatory service requirement all 18-27 males had to fulfill.

I got scared.

Slowly, I began to let go of my dream.

Eight years later, I was in Norway, celebrating Christmas with one of my friends and his family.

The question came up again.

“Maybe this is the time,” I thought to myself.

On a snowy afternoon, I walked to the Russian Embassy in Oslo in an attempt to get more information about how I could fulfill once a dream of mine.

The Russian Embassy was closed.

Part of me was devastated.

The other part made me think that maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Was I truly ready to confront the past, in-person, for the first time since I was adopted?

Was I truly ready to look my sister in her eyes and ask her questions that I desperately wanted to know answers to?

Was I truly ready to visit my birth Mom’s gravesite?

Questions I simply couldn’t find answers to.

As I’m writing this today and thinking about the initial question, “When should I visit my birth country?” I can’t help but acknowledge the honest truth of it all.

The type of response that has taken me years to accept as a possible answer.

“I don’t know!”

Which elements of your old self are you choosing to hang on to as you’re striving for the next version of your self?

“What do you have to let go of in order to become who you want to be?”

This morning, as I was reading one of S. Scott Mason’s posts about letting go of one’s old version of self, I had realized an important lesson.

One that I chose to overlook for many years.

Lesson: understand which elements of your old self you choose to hang on to during your time of transition from old to new self.

Whenever I wanted to change something in my life, I jumped into it head first, leaving everything behind.

Whether it was a new morning routine, workout pattern … the list goes on.

At first, all of the new changes brought a lot of excitement into my life.

Then, the new changes became overwhelming.

Slowly, this overwhelming feeling became a riddle I simply couldn’t find an answer to.

With Scott Mason’s help, as well as so many others, I have finally found an answer to that riddle.

The new changes became overwhelming because I had no anchors.

Nothing to hang on to, nothing to give me some sense of comfort or support.

I’ve realized that there’s a process to change.

To me, change doesn’t always mean abandoning everything all at once, rather making incremental changes until I am able to fully transition beyond the current circumstances.

Which elements of your old self are you choosing to hang on to as you’re striving for the next version of your self?

Do you know when you need to face a fear or avoid it?

Fight or flight.

This is the core of the sympathetic nervous system.

It is so ingrained in human physiology and psychology that it can be traced to ancient humans.

If a saber tooth tiger was stalking an early man, they had to know how to use their fear to either sprint as fast as they could or overcome the threat with the tools they had at their disposal.

Most humans now do not have the same stresses that our ancestors had.

However, the same response to threats and fears is still very much a part of our being.

The challenge is that this response activates when threats are equally as minor or major.

It takes the wisdom and intellect of an individual to understand what is happening in their body when a perceived threat is presented.

The question then becomes, do you know when you need to face a fear or avoid it? The dilemma: Run away from fear or run to it?

Join Nancy John, Casey Berman and Oleg Lougheed as they express how to successfully navigate #fear and #uncertainty.

How do you challenge your own shortcomings?

“Are you safe?”

Ever since I landed in Ghana, this has been one of the most frequently asked questions from friends in the US.

Every time this question is asked, I can’t help but wonder, “What about Africa does the other person not find safe?”

Is it that I may be the only Caucasian within many, many miles?

Is it the fear of catching an unknown disease?

Is it because the poverty is much higher than a lot of other countries?

But even if the poverty level is higher, does that necessarily mean it’s unsafe?

Or is it something completely different?

This question was asked when I went to other European countries.

But, not in the same order.

It was asked well into the conversation.

Sometimes, not asked at all.

Once I got to Africa, this question has been asked at the beginning of most conversations.

I asked myself the same question, “What about Africa did I perceive as unsafe prior to arriving in Ghana?” and I discovered something.

I realized the perception I carried with me about people of color for many years.

Ever since I was a kid, I remember watching movies where those of color would be perceived as criminals and drug dealers.

This impacted my view greatly.

During my teenage years, there were times when I would cross the street once I saw a person of color sharing the same sidewalk.

There have been times when I’ve been scared to walk down dark alleyways, yet I wasn’t scared to do so if it was another white person there.

I am not here to blame anyone or anything.

I am simply acknowledging my shortcomings.

I have had to rewrite many of the stories I have written about people of color.

Even where I am today, I know I still have much work to do.

What is your perception of different races? What are the narratives you’ve created about those who are different from you?

What are the things you’re searching for?

“Our search is not for the thing, but the feeling that thing gives us.”

The other day, I caught up with an old friend of mine.

It has been years since we last saw each other, yet it felt as if no time had passed.

We shared one story after another.

The places we’ve been to.

The jobs we’ve had.

The people we’ve met.

Halfway through our conversation, he said something that still hasn’t escaped my mind.

“Our search is not for the thing, but the feeling that thing gives us.”

I looked at the burger in front of me.

Then, the iPhone.

Then, my clothes.

I thought, “He couldn’t be more right.”

I wasn’t searching for these items individually, rather the feeling those things could give me.

The feeling of not being hungry.

The feeling of being connected.

The feeling of being warm.

What are the things you’re searching for? What do you hope to feel when you find those things?

How are you making others feel valued and seen?

“Good morning, Boss!”

The other day, a friend of mine had said these words as he was talking to the Uber driver.

It wasn’t the first time I heard these words after my arrival to Ghana.

However, it was the first time these words peaked my interest.

I asked, “Why do people call others ‘boss’, especially when the person is not their boss?”

He responded, “It is meant to make others feel important or valued …”

Regardless of the role, whether it was the person checking our entry tickets at the Asenema Waterfalls, countless of Uber drivers or someone who is making your food, people call others “Boss, King, Director … the list goes on.”

All titles having one common denominator: to make others feel valued and seen.

How are you making others feel valued and seen?

What do you look forward to the most during the holiday season?

It has been many years since I was away from home on Christmas Eve.

Christmas is the one holiday I look forward to the most, year after year.

There is something magical about it.

I feel more hopeful than any other day.

I feel more connected to self and those around me.

I feel a deep sense of appreciation for how far I have come.

This year, I had the privilege of spending it with a friend of mine and his family.

Thousands of miles away.

In a country I’ve never been to before.

I was curious to see how such time would be received.

Everyday leading up to Christmas Eve, one of the kids would scream, “Ho ho ho!”

He’d stand at the bottom of the stairs, repeating it until someone else would say, “Ho ho ho” back to him.

I couldn’t help, but smile every time I heard him.

Tears of joy would build up in the front of my eyes.

He helped me reconnect to my inner child.

The times when I’d do similar things and could care less how I’d be perceived to the outside world.

The times of pure happiness.

Christmas Eve brought a whole other set of memories.

Seeing the excitement in kids’ eyes as they followed Santa’s tracks from the chimney to the Christmas tree was an experience money couldn’t buy.

It reminded me of the times I’d sit in my room, waiting anxiously for what I’d find under the Christmas tree the following morning.

Although, gift giving has evolved for me over the years, it still brings back memories.

This year, Christmas was different AND beautiful!!!

All due to my friend’s generosity of opening a door to what was once stranger to now a friend 🙏