This I believe...

Today is incredibly ordinary in Sydney. The sky has remained gray and cloudy, and it is surprisingly cold for a mid-spring day. I forgot my running shoes at home, and didn't realise I needed a light jacket until I was waiting for the train. This all after an epic alarm of the wattle bird at 5 a.m. I was happy it was Hump Day, especially after a weekend full of parties and pork in Melbourne.

I've been at the helm of my career path for a few months now, and have been questioning if I am heading in the right direction. So after this completly ordinary day, I came home and found something extraordinary. Funny how those two words, ordinary and extraordinary, mean polar opposites. I found a list of things I believe in circa October 2005. I remember starting the list based on the NPR program 'This I Believe,'which was often on in the car while tooling around the ghettos of Milwaukee. It was fitting. This was right after the time of Hurricane Katrina, and P-to-the-Earl and I were heading down for Mardi Gras that February. The theme was the Blue Roof Blues. One of the essay's was a social worker from New Orleans, who was writing about the aftermath of the storm.

For those of you that don't know the program, you should have a look. There are essays by American author Amy Tan, boxing legend Muhammad Ali, and 12-year-old Macklin who really likes the Beatles.

My list was started out of this program, and I had forgotten about it until now. Now, I won't keep you guessing, I shall share a few gems with you:


I believe I want to run away to Africa. 

I believe in the imperfections in people. 

I believe someone’s got it worse than me right now, and I should suck it up.

I believe I’m drunk.

I believe I shouldn't have said that.

As it's Veteran's Day this past Sunday in the States, the website for the organisation is doing a feature on stories from the Military Family. I can't do them justice. So many talk about compassion, peace, hope and connection in the talons of war. To be able to find something beautiful among so much destruction.  The ability to every day come across strangers searching for some meaning in their experience, and to help in some small part. To impart hope and reflect bravery. One Vietnam vet, ironically from Wisconsin, tells the story of a young girl giving him a magazine on the flight home. Thirty-six years later, he remembers, and gives her thanks, for this gesture of kindness. That. That is what I have to believe in today. It is in this belief in belief that today, I give thanks for.