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My 2017 Vision

March 9
by
Carden Wyckoff
in
Inspirational People
with
.

I write this to share with you my vision, values, methods, obstacles and measures for 2017. This is a personal deep dive into what I believe in, the obstacles that will stand in my way from achieving my goals, and how I will show I have been successful. This is me being vulnerable and sharing my story. The easiest of these categories for me to write was the obstacles. There are so many doubts that could potentially stand in my way from achieving my goals. I want you to remember that yes there are more  roadblocks, but you must learn to overcome these challenges to obtain what you desire.


What does 2017 look like for you?

Vision

My vision for 2017 includes traveling for the first time internationally using a wheelchair and spread FSH awareness internationally, continue to deep dive at work while growing my network and establishing deeper relationships with my coworkers, and give my time through volunteering in the community to help build a more rollable/walkable Atlanta.

Values

FUN

I’ve got many fun adventures planned for 2017 and I believe it is important to enjoy life regardless of your disability or ability. Taking life to seriously and forgetting to explore the world  while I can is not a rut I want to get myself into.

TRUST

I value being honest and transparent in life and work. Peers, family and friends depend on me and I have to remain committed to them and show them I can be a resource of assistance and love.

TEAMWORK

I value synergy, learning from others and my own mistakes and building others up. In order to take on life and accomplish my goals, I must rely on other individuals to lend a helping hand. I also have to remember to be open to receiving help. I can’t tackle life on my own and must remember there is a strong support system behind me.

GROWTH

As my physical strength continues to decline, I value learning how to achieve greatness despite my obstacles. Leaning from others is an incredible opportunity and I believe in the power of sharing this wealth of knowledge. In order to grow, I value staying grounded remembering those who helped to build me.

Methods/Measures

  • Become a WHILL Ambassador for the Model M wheelchair and showcase it to the world and complete by the end of February
  • File a class action lawsuit with the city of Atlanta for failure to maintain #equalAccess of sidewalks
  • Take on our 3rd Reebok Spartan Race in March via piggyback
  • Apply to the Administrative Board of Directors for the FSH Society in hopes of being the youngest board member by May
  • Travel Europe for 10 days in April with a previous coworker from Apple
  • Take the Piggyback Adventure crew up Mt. Kilimanjaro by October
  • Make a documentary about Piggyback Adventures, conquering FSH muscular dystrophy, overcoming barriers, and working on a team of family and friends and submit it to Sundance film festival and Netflix for EOY 2017 submissions
  • Expand my consumption of various herbal teas to provide a wholistic healing approach to my health
  • Begin to learn Japanese and enroll in a class
  • Become a Salesforce Certified Administrator by May
  • Have lunch with 30 new individuals at work by the EOY to  build a trusting relationship with my coworkers and grow my network
  • Continue to be the top new-hire onboarding ambassador for all of Salesforce and bring positivity into the workplace
  • Strengthen my relationship with God and dive daily into the word
  • Visit the park on a regular basis
  • Open up to others by sharing my vulnerabilities
  • Remember to live in the present

Obstacles

  • Once my WHILL ambassadorship is over, I know I won’t want to go back to my scooter. It means I have to accept the fact I need a more durable chair to do the things I want to do and being 100% reliant on a device is a hard pill to swallow for someone who is very independent.  As WHILL currently isn’t covered by insurance, finding the funds ($10k) to purchase one seems near impossible for a single individual.
  • Finding time to roll around the city of Atlanta and take pictures of bad sidewalk and report them takes up a lot of my free time. Sometimes also it feels like a black hole as I don’t always see the change right away and also it just never ends. I am just 1 individual going around the city and reporting areas that need improvement and this often seems daunting.
  • Filing a lawsuit takes time and energy and I feel I won’t have the patience for possibly a 2-3 year lawsuit. Also, finding other individuals who want to testify with me is difficult as I feel no one wants to help or has a story to share. This is just me not putting trust into my lawyer which is not such a good idea.
  • The Reebok Spartan race opens up the door to potential near hypothermia as I got my first year. It is also exhausting holding onto someone for 5 miles and runs the risk of tearing muscle fiber which is not good for my condition.
  • Traveling internationally will be a first since getting a wheelchair. I traveled to Boston and my scooter was damaged on the plane. I am concerned my chair will get damaged in route and will have difficulties getting around. I also do not know how accessible Europe is and since I plan on visiting many historical monuments, many of these are not accessible.
  • Mt. Kilimanjaro is 19,400 feet and I am worried about my a ability to prepare for this height as I am unable to adequately train for this elevation. I am concerned with the technical aspects of the trail as it is unknown territory and it being unsafe to climb. When hiking the trail, we had new friends join us for day hikes, this won’t be the case as everyone who starts will or won’t finish. There are no day hikers on this adventures, thus I am worried that the people carrying me won’t have adequate enough rest in between carries. I worry about the accessibility in Africa, traveling across the world and the cost of the trip.
  • The producer that is leading our documentary lives across the country so finding times to film poses a challenge. Getting funding for the film and sponsors is all new territory for me as I don’t know this network of individuals. What if no one wants to watch our documentary or we end up losing money from it?
  • As I explore new and different herbal teas, I do not know if my body is allergic to them or not or how it will react. I have a sensitive digestive system and do not want to disrupt it.
  • Learning a new language is difficult and it is easy to give up. Kanji has thousands of symbols and learning all of them will be a challenge. It will take thousands of hours to dedicate learning a  new language and it can be put on the back burner if I do not stay dedicated to it. Also not having anyone around me as a native speaker to practice speaking poses a roadblock.
  • Taking the Salesforce Certified Administrator exam for work will be a challenge as I do not have a good history of test taking. I failed my Pardot specialist exam 2x prior, thus why I am concerned this stress will happen again. Finding time to study for this exam and stay focused is not easy for me.
  • Finding enough time and scheduling lunch with individuals is harder than one would think. I worry I am being too ambitious for this goal. Also opening up to coworkers on a deeper personal level is challenging as I don’t want to overstep and work/personal boundaries.
  • Remembering that being an on boarding ambassador is not my primary role or what I get paid to do at work, it’s volunteer. I have to remember to keep a work/volunteer balance and also not burn myself out by striving to be the best.
  • I have to make it a priority to dive into the word of God and often times I get too caught up in reality and forget what’s important. I worry that as my church is moving locations and Marta buses don’t travel over there that I will fall out of the loop at church.
  • It rains often in Georgia and I have to take a train and roll 0.5 miles to get to the park. Distance and weather brings potential challenges.
  • Living in the present is difficult for someone who wants to do some much and plan various adventures.

You Are Your Best Self, I Am My Best Self

March 8
by
Tara Sharpton
in
Health
with
.

There will be times in your life where you will feel alone, feel like an outsider.  But always know that you are not.  And that in our differences is our truest beauty.


There was a poem written to raise money for the Statue of Liberty named “The New Colossus” written by Emma Lazarus.  I’ve enjoyed this poem for many years.  And I feel as though it is welcome for the lost, for those of us that feel like outsiders.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

“And her name MOTHER OF EXILES.”  We are those exiles.  Everyone is in some way an exile.  We have been exiled from relationships, friends, family, homes, and other parts of life.  It makes us feel like outsiders.  It makes us feel like something is wrong with us for being different and not being exactly what someone wants or expects.  I have a message for those people.

You are your best self.  I am my best self.

There are going to be people in your life who make you feel like an outsider.  People who make you feel like something is wrong with you, make you feel as though it is a shame to be different.  But the key is, you are who you are, and that is all you can ever be.  In life, we are challenged every day for being a little different from others and it makes us feel like we need to change.  Don’t change.  Being a little different and weird is powerful.  Being yourself is powerful.  It gives you control over your life when you let go of what others think of you. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

We yearn to breathe free.  Free from the crippling need to change ourselves to make other people be happy.  We are who we are as people and if someone cannot accept that, it means they were not meant to be a part of your life.  And we have to understand that.  “I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”  I lift my lamp as a welcome to those who have felt lost, felt as though they were not good enough.  You are good enough.

Right now, we see a lot of hate, finger pointing, and cruelty in the world.  It is easy to get lost and consumed by it.  It is easy to harden your heart.  And It is easy to feel as though the world is a dark and scary place.    If I told you it wasn’t I would be lying.  But the world is also beautiful.  And part of that beauty lies in our differences.  We cannot become consumed by the hate and the need to feel less like an outsider.

It is easy to feel lost amongst a sea of comments that make you feel less than your best.  Make you feel like you should be someone you are not.  Make you feel empty and alone.  I can attest to changing myself to make other people happy.  It was hard and miserable.  I woke up and looked in the mirror every morning thinking what happened to me?  Where did I go?  Who is this ghost of a person staring back at me and how to I get from my transparent self to my real self?  The solid grounded self I once knew so well. These questions are not easy to answer.

In fact, we never quite know the answers to them.  I know that I don’t know.

I couldn’t tell you the exact moment I started molding myself to be some other person to feel less of an outsider.  It’s so easy to get caught up in wanting to please others that we forget we have to also make ourselves happy.  I’m not saying be selfish or unkind to others, I’m saying remember to be true to yourself, because how can true happiness come from being someone you aren’t?  It can’t.  But at the same time of being true to ourselves and embracing being different, we must also remember not to shun others for being a certain way.  And to those I ever made feel awful for being different from me, I deeply and sincerely apologize.  We are all different, and in our differences, we may be outsiders but that does not mean we are alone.  It simply means we are all unique, and we must learn to embrace our unique qualities.

I challenge those that judge others and pressure people to be something they are not to be more than that.  To accept your differences as a blessing rather than a curse.  And to accept that being different from each other is what brings us together.  To accept that in our differences, our weirdness, we are united.


I challenge those who feel like they need to change to accept who they are as a person.  To feel as though they are enough.  To wake up and look at yourself honestly and truly and know that you are your best self.  I am my best self.  And no one will ever take that away from us.

Womanhood in America

March 7
by
Alex Harris
in
Creative Outlets
with
.

As a white, upper class, educated, able-bodied female I recognize and understand that I’m blessed with more privilege than most. My parents have provided my siblings and I with a lavish lifestyle that came from years of their hard work. I don’t have to worry about affording my next meal or if I’m going to have a place to sleep at night.


Although I’ve been blessed with this lifestyle, I’m fully aware of the gender divide and the different components that come along with it. While women are automatically seen as lower than males (i.e. wage gap, pre-historic gender roles), there are certain groups of women that are more invisible than others. These women include people of color, women who are LGBTQUIA+, lower socioeconomic status women, etc. In the future, I hope to use my privilege to help speak out for those who are repressed in society.

As a Women’s Gender and Sexualities minor, I’ve taken many classes that have explained to me how exploited I am.

I was reinforced and punished a certain way in order to live up to unobtainable gender roles. I’ve been inundated with television, magazines, or social media about how I should look, dress, and what I should eat. There’s a non-stop policing of women’s bodies that doesn’t necessarily come from laws. Not only do I have the media telling me what to do, but also I have people convincing me to get an IUD because my own government trying to control my body.

While these classes have definitely opened my eyes and exposed me to underlying, subconscious forms of oppression that I failed to recognize in the past, they also taught me that each person I encounter has various components that come into play to empower or create struggles in that person’s life. A person’s gender, birthplace, ethnicity, religion, ability, class, etc. ultimately create a path in which they are thrown obstacles. Depending on how these different components come together changes

In the face of Trump’s America, people have resorted to protesting and marching as a way of showing resistance. From the Women’s March to airport activism in response to the refugee ban, the silver lining in this political turmoil is that people from all around the nation are coming together to fight for what’s right.

While I understand that as a female I will face specific obstacles that my male counterparts don’t have to, I also know that as a white, educated, abled, upper-class woman I’m already way more ahead of the game than most. If anything, the take-away from this article should be that having privilege isn’t necessarily an evil, but you need to understand your privilege and how it affects others.


If you would like to use your privilege to help others out please consider donating to the organizations found on this website:

http://www.pajiba.com/seriously_random_lists/charities-to-donate-to-in-trumps-america.php

Finding Spirituality

March 6
by
Martinique McCrory
in
Faith
with
.

I had never fully bought into the God thing. At least, not the “big man in the sky” imagery that was presented to me by the private Christian schools I attended in my youth.


I remember one particular moment, when I was about 7 or 8, that I was alone in the kitchen one afternoon drinking a cup of water. I was suddenly struck by a peculiar idea to push the cup over the edge of the table to see if God would stop me. I don’t know why my kid-brain thought this was such a terrible act, but I got nervous just thinking of what the ramifications could be. Surely God could read my thoughts and know my ill-intent, but would He stop me? Curious but scared to death, I checked to make sure no one was watching and started to edge the cup towards the floor very slowly. With each inch, I expected some invisible hand to slap mine away, but nothing happened, and eventually the water fell to the floor. A strange mixture of great relief and vast disappointment filled up my little body.

I didn’t know it then, but that moment would change how I viewed God for the rest of my life.

Fast forward to college. I’m 18, unsure of what electives to take, and decidedly agnostic. God didn’t fit into my life, and I didn’t fit into His. If you had asked me, I would have said that all I cared about was getting my degree. I didn’t know that there was something secretly inside me hungry for answers. My first philosophy class awakened that in me, however. I had never analysed the world around me in such a critical, almost scientific kind of way.

I quickly made philosophy my minor, and every subject within it was like a new turning point in my understanding of life. I went from claiming to be agnostic, to atheist, to existentialist. I was all over the place, but happy about it because each new step felt like growth. Still, a part of me was left unsatisfied. The majority of the philosophy subjects were of Western focus. They dealt with metaphysics, ethics, politics, and society–everything I would need to be a critical thinking citizen and perhaps, one day, a political leader. But it was hardly anything I could apply to my day-to-day life for when I was just human me, alone, and not another cog in the machinery of society. Who was I? And did I even matter?

It’s sad to say that it wasn’t until after I graduated that I realized how shortchanged I had been by my schooling.

Not that I regret one moment of it. In fact, I think everything aligned perfectly to set me up for where I am now. But it was my own thirst to continue learning about philosophy after graduation that led me to the discovery of Eastern philosophy and religions. I had heard of Buddhism, Taoism, and Hinduism before, but never quite understood them. If you’re unaware, Eastern philosophies tend to focus more on our relationship with nature and the question of the divine spirit. Actually, there are a lot of similarities between Eastern and Western religions, but having lived in such a Western society, I was only getting one piece of the puzzle.

I won’t bore you with the particulars. The point is that I came to the understanding of how interconnected we all are and how deep the rabbit hole goes. Sure, society and the governing of society is important, but on a broader perspective we aren’t just one city, one state, or one country. Focusing on only one religion, one race, and one understanding, shortchanges us all. It leads us to war with each other and ban each other from our homes when we get the most benefits from coming together.


Spirituality is more than a belief; it’s a journey of understanding. It’s seeing the oneness of the human race, and its connection to the world around us. Are we God? Are we the love, compassion, mercy, and restraint that we’re all so desperately looking for? Maybe. Maybe it’s all baloney and maybe it’s not. But it’s a question definitely worth asking, and it’s an answer I will always be seeking.

A Convoluted Love Triangle

March 6
by
Anonymous User
in
#HalfTheStory
with
.

*Names have been changed.

Tony* is an intelligent man- he graduated two years ago from Caltech with a mechanical engineering degree. We met at a party last autumn, and I immediately was drawn in by his boyish nerdiness and pleasant demeanor.


At the time, I was playing the field, and had no interest in a relationship. But I still took him home, and I recall clearly, when he bent his skinny, shirtless torso over my twin bed, I questioned that decision. “Not only is he not my type,” I thought to myself, “But he’s also below my standards.” I let him sleep over, which I almost never did, because he would be getting up a few hours later for work anyway. Little did I know that what should have been a one-night stand would change everything.

We went out a few times, and I found myself falling for him. I asked myself, “Is this love?” and simultaneously admonished myself for thinking such thoughts, because in addition to my being too emotionally unstable for a relationship, he lacked a number of the qualities I desired in a partner, like social aptitude or profoundness. The conversation shifted when I found out he was seriously dating a woman from his past, Miranda, while going out with me, and I was quite hurt. I drank myself into a stupor the night I found out, and couldn’t understand why I was surprised, let alone why I cared. Perhaps it was that Tony’s dating his ex made me the “other woman,” something that reminded me of a mistake I made several years prior. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Against all of my friends’ advice, I continued to see Tony. He eventually broke things off with Miranda, because, in Gossip Girl-esque style, she was dating another man at the time, making Tony the “other man.” We went steady a month later.

Like most stories, this wasn’t a sudden “happily ever after”-type ending.

I knew Tony was still in love with Miranda, and I sought consolation in anecdotes of other successful relationships where one of the parties still loved his ex. It wasn’t easy for me to deal with, especially when this struggle was compounded by other ones in my life. But for the most part, I managed.

That is, until about six months into our relationship, he said something especially strange about our love, and I knew for certain that he was being unfaithful. In the past, I’d been suspicious, but never confronted him because I dismissed my fears as paranoia. Going on a gut feeling is typically not something I condone, but I knew my psychology and Tony was not acting normal, even by his standards.

I didn’t know what to do or think. He denied anything when I asked him, and I wasn’t one to look through his phone or pry into his personal files.

Here is the point when I should have cut things off. I should not be nor have been with a man who makes me feel like I’m not enough, like I’m not loved, like I’m wasting both of our time by sticking around. But I didn’t- I was in love, I was insecure, I was whatever. For some reason, I could not bring myself to leave.

Then, Delilah entered the narrative. Delilah is a beautiful woman who pursued me romantically the year prior to my relationship with Tony. Things didn’t work out for various reasons, but I always had a soft spot for Delilah. I still do.

One night, a group of us went out for drinks, and I had a few too many. Tony was doing whatever he was doing elsewhere, and Delilah was the first person to make me truly laugh in weeks. One thing led to another, and before I knew it we were kissing. It was wrong, but it felt like the first event that was right in months.

I never really thought cheating was particularly horrible. Infidelity was never something I’d experienced. It seemed zesty, like it added a spice to what was otherwise a monotonous relationship. Ironic, considering that Tony’s infidelity was taking such a toll on me. But after I crossed that line, the depth of what I had done hit me like a bullet. People get stoned for this sin for a reason.

The next morning, I didn’t feel guilty, but a strange relief.

I was not the woman who waited at home while her partner was out with other ladies. However, the next weekend, and the one after, I felt overwhelming remorse. One time, maybe even two, is a drunken lapse of judgement; over weeks is not. I told Delilah that it couldn’t continue, but after two weeks I decided to simply end it with Tony. But then – I didn’t. To put it simply, when faced with the two lovers, and my compromised morals, I stuck with Tony. It was still Tony who I loved, who I refused to give up on.

I cut Delilah off, and put all of time and affection into loving Tony again. I no longer cared about Miranda’s role in our relationship. If Tony went back to her, so be it. I didn’t want my hands- or lips- any dirtier than they already were.

A convenient three weeks later, Tony entered my home sobbing. He confessed to me his love and rendezvous with Miranda. Unsurprised, I let him cry in my lap and told him I forgave him. It would have been hypocritical for me to do anything else.

He seemed surprised, but why not? Tony didn’t understand that I not only knew about his disloyalty, but that I had also forgiven him before he uttered a word about Miranda. Why? Because relationships and trust are a fragile thing, and seduction and jealousy are devastating weapons that weaken the resolve of individuals with the best intentions. Not to excuse my own actions, but I believe my sins have made me a better person. I could never get into the head of an adulterer until I was the head of an adulterer, and my appreciation for Tony grew exponentially as a result. I like to think it did the same for him.


Tony and I are still together a year later, doing whatever couples in the city do, and doing wonderfully. He makes me stronger, and I don’t believe I will ever be as weak emotionally as I was the year I fell into temptation.

One Step Forward, 10 Steps Back

March 5
by
Erika Evans
in
Creative Outlets
with
.

Just when you think that you’re doing great. Just when you think you’ve got your life all in order and everything is going to work out fine, the world finds a way to catch up to you and come crashing down.


I was dumped. And given my past relationship record, my friends had really, really good reason to be worried about me. The really, really fun part about borderline personality disorder is the extreme fear of abandonment and the feeling of being unlovable. All of which are a dangerous combo added on top of a break up.

But I played it cool and actually did not contact my ex after a week; a normal task to your average person but to me was a very large feat. All-in-all I stayed silent, just like every Cosmo article had ever told me.

Until Friday night came. I hadn’t been out in a total of 15 days, which, any normal person in Athens would tell you, was downright crazy. My hair looked good; my eyebrows flawless. I was ready to see my ex if only for the moment to say hello so nonchalantly and then carry on with my business. I mean, everyone had advised me to keep my distance, act casual, and pretend that everything was going okay. And my plan was to do just that. Let’s act cool. Let’s act okay.

But was everyone okay? Up to this point I had completely avoided the true feelings of being dumped for the hope that he had made a mistake and would come back.  And having a chaotic week made it pretty easy to pretend that nothing had changed at all.

Until I added alcohol into the mix. The second the sweet sweet taste of Strongbow hit my lips, my fingers were just itching to text him. The savory feeling of a drunk text. And I get it- nothing good can come out of any of this. So why not have a drink and see how you’re feeling then?

4 drinks, two bombs, and 2 shots later- here we are. I’m in a bar by myself. My girlfriends gone. Every boy that touches me makes me cringe, and I don’t know how to have a conversation with even the slightest hint of flirtation to it without my skin crawling. The whole night my eyes dart side-to-side looking for him. Hoping for that moment that I can link eyes with him and pretend like all is grand.

But it never comes.

I go home. $20 uber for one. And I change into my t-shirt and boxers and look in my mirror. I look so closely into it and a weird outer voice comes into that mirror and says “it’s okay baby girl. None of this is your fault. You are beautiful. You are kind. This isn’t your fault.” It’s is a fatherly, assertive voice that comes out of me, I don’t believe a word out of it.  Despite my own inner voice trying to give me a pep talk, here I am.

I feel lost. I feel scared. And I feel alone. So far alone at 4:30 AM that I’m not sure what to do anymore. After several more drunk texts and a few more conversations in the mirror (all of which are essentially an outer-body-me saying that I actually matter to the world) I grab my box of tissues and I crawl into bed.


The world I tired of me, and I am tired of it. And we have completely exhausted one another for today. It won’t be until morning when the two of us get to wake up and deal with one another again. And that’s just the way that we work for awhile.

The Power of Story

March 4
by
Justin Davis
in
Creative Outlets
with
.

What is the greatest story you’ve ever heard? Do you remember it? Do you remember the way it made you feel… the way it made you think about your life or how you can live differently? If you remember this story, I want to ask you a new question; why is this the greatest story ever told? The truth about this question is that everyone will have a different answer. If you’re having a hard time conjuring up a response, don’t beat yourself up, because sometimes we love stories without really ever knowing why.


Some people may end up having a love for the same story, but the reasons will most likely be different, based upon the person giving it meaning. To me, stories are a way of seeing a new perspective in life. It is a way to gain wisdom and understanding of things we may not know: to escape in epic fantasies or ground us in reality. We allow our hearts to be moved with hope and encouragement and sometimes, fear and despair. We, as humans, love to hear and tell stories, but why? I may have an answer to this question, but before I attempt to explain my reason on this complex topic, we must first have an understanding of what a story is and how it is created.

The oldest known literary work and myth that we know of is called The Epic of Gilgamesh, written more than 3000 years ago. This story is about a man who is two-thirds god and one-thirds man, who travels to the edge of the world and discovers secrets of gods and records them on stone tablets. The story seems pretty straightforward when you hear a synopsis like this, but underneath the words and sentences there are themes, motifs, and self-enacted pieces of symbolism that allow the reader to be interested, entertained, and taught to.

The Epic of Gilgamesh, in accordance with the themes, is really about love as a motivating force, the inevitability of death, and gods being dangerous.

When a person reads this story, from it, they should be able to look at their own life and see where they can apply these ideals. Or in other words, a mythology (just another word for story) is ultimately a way in which the reader reconciles their consciousness to the preconditions of their own existence: to question the very nature of life itself.

For example, because of the love and friendship between Endiku and Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh went from a tyrant and a bully to a king and a hero. Once Endiku died, Gilgamesh’s grief and terror forced him on a quest for immortality that would bring him no gain. What does the author want the reader to take away from this? Everyone will have a different answer, but in my opinion, the author wants me to understand that love is a powerful force that can have positive effects on a person, but it can also cause negative ailments that can transform a kind hearted man, into a self-seeking narcissist. With this theme of love, I can now apply the understanding to my life.

Now that we have a better understanding of what stories are, I want to attempt to share an idea about how we tell them. In many ways, stories can be told through pictures (film or photography), music, words, actions; the possibilities are endless, but the crazy thing is, I believe that there is only one way a story comes to life before it can be shared: it’s through our life. What I mean by this is that stories come to life by the experiences we face.

Every laugh, cry, word, feeling, cut, bruise, broken bone that we’ve had; there is a story behind it.

Once we experience a new story, it is then transcended into thought for us to process. After the story has been fully processed, the thoughts and ideas in the mind are then translated into a specific medium, when it is then shared with the world. Like the story of Gilgamesh: someone had experienced a positive or negative day in the life, thus turning it into an idea in the author’s head, until that idea was put into words on a piece of paper. Now it is a sort of being that people can read and understand.

It is the same process for creating a Film. The story starts out as an idea from an experience in the mind of the beholder, until it is translated into a screenplay, then shared through the medium of a visual dimension for people to see. I could say the same about Music, except the medium in which it’s shared, is an auditory one for people to hear. All stories are constructed from the experience and the imagination of the creator’s life, but the medium in which the story is shared is different.

But from all of this information, what good does it bring to us? This knowledge doesn’t answer the question for why stories are powerful; there is just a better understanding of what stories are and how we tell them. There is a reason for all of this, let me explain with an idea. When someone states that they hate classical music, I believe, in my opinion, that’s a blanket statement. This person hasn’t been fully educated on the history, creation, and process of how classical music came to be.

For example, classical music roughly began around c.1750 and ended 80 years later in c.1830. Classical music was created, by taking the textural intricacy of the Baroque era music and using it as stepping-stone to create a new era, that had a near-infatuation with structural intricacy. In this new era of music, famous Composers like Joseph Haydn and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, crafted symphonies within their mind, conducted their thoughts with the motions of their hands, where it was finally translated into music by the raw instruments of the Orchestra. With the knowledge of these components, the person will better understand the beautiful consonance of classical music.

Just like a story, it is essential to understand the history, creation, and process of how this narrative comes to life, so we, as the people who read them, can enjoy the contents within and comprehend the underlying text, to perceive a new theme in life. With this enlightenment, you can begin to understand why your favorite story impacted you the way that it did.

Now that we know all of this information, I want to attempt to share my reason for why I think the human race loves stories. Before I share, I would like for you all to know that my answer may not be what you’d expect. My opinion doesn’t have to deal solely with psychological or philosophical elements (though they are important and will be included in my attempt), but rather, my idea is based on the foundation of theological virtues. So my answer to this question will in fact include information, knowledge, and truths from the Bible.

I am not here to persuade your thoughts or push my ideals upon you; I am here to share my reasons for why I think story impacts us the way that it does.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1). On the first day, God created night and day, the second; He created the sky and the sea, the third; He created land and vegetation, four; stars, sun, and moon, five; sea creatures including fish and birds, and finally on day six, God created Man out of His own image. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, Image is an “exact likeness” and or “a reproduction or imitation of the form of a person or thing.” The conclusion of this definition brings us to a place where we learn that not just our physical bodies are created out of the image of God, but also our mind, thoughts, and emotions. Our entire being (minus the sin) is an exact likeness to our Creator.

With this knowledge, I can say that our love for stories came from God and was ingrained in us since the beginning of our time. To back this idea up, the Bible is the living Word of God and within, there are stories that interest, entertain, and teach us how to live, act, and find truth. In 2 Timothy 3:16, Paul writes to his beloved child Timothy, these words, “All scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness…” This verse brings light and truth to this idea: there is no coincidence that the Bible is over 75% story. God knew His love for story and how powerful it can be, so He created the Bible as a way for us to connect, have intimacy with Him, and learn how to live our lives in righteousness.

This idea is powerful and I believe that we, as human beings, are strong because of it.

So then, I come back to my original question: why are stories powerful? With all of this information and wisdom just shared with you, do you think that you can come up with your own idea as of why stories impact us the way that they do? My hope would be that you would answer my question with a “yes”, but if not, that’s okay.

The Power of Story is a complex topic to tackle yet it’s an idea that I believe is important to gain wisdom on. Maybe a story is powerful because we allow it to be. We give our ear to them: we sit, watch, and open our life to the story being told. They captivate our attention with detail and a new perspective. They call out to our imagination and allow us to ponder and experience life in a different way. They can reach out to our own understandings and make us connect to the circumstances within. They transcend our hearts into a beautifully profound area of existence. I could be having a terrible day, but when I hear a humorous story, it will immediately change my negative day into a positive one. Stories must be powerful, because we allow them to be. They present information to us and we give it meaning.

We, as humans, learn from other people. If a story or myth is about gaining new perspective and applying it to your life, then the life you walk and live is ultimately a story. You give it meaning when and where you please. People from the outside can be interested, entertained, and taught to by the life you live. So then, the final conclusion to my question, ends with this idea of an answer that, in my opinion, I believe to be true: stories are powerful and impact us the way that they do because they derive from the experiences and imaginations, of people who walk out living stories every day.


So, what’s your favorite story?

“But how could you live and have no story to tell?” –Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Happiness Comes From Within, Not Revenge

March 4
by
Erica Mones
in
Health
with
.

When I hear phrases like “Revenge body” or “success is the best revenge,” I cannot help but think that many people do not know the difference between self-esteem and an unhealthy obsession with others’ opinions. 


As the word suggests, self-esteem comes from within, yet many people rely on others to validate their worth.  Khloe Kardashian has a new TV show called Revenge Body, and while she may be encouraging people to eat healthily and stay active, she is ultimately promoting the notion that in order to be happy, one must impress others.

After obsessing over other’s opinions for thirteen years of my life, I understand how dangerous it is to put so much weight into others’ opinions.

I forgot to look after myself, and instead, I lived my life for others.  Whether my motivation was to effect jealousy, sympathy, anger, or admiration, I did not live my life happily or healthily; I was obsessed with what everyone else thought.  As I lay awake every night, I did not understand that the people I was trying to impact were living their lives.  Eventually, this tore me down to the point where I did not know who I was or what I wanted in life.

Khloe Kardashian is promoting this unhealthy mindset that being successful is about impressing others.  This can lead people down a path of obsession and possibly self-destruction as a result of never being fulfilled.  Happiness does not come from others or external forces; it comes from within.

If someone wants to lose weight or live healthier, he should do it for himself, not for a reaction; reactions may feel good for a moment, but it is fleeting.

Pleasing others or impressing them will never be satisfying because the real issue, oneself, is not being addressed.  Instead of focusing on his own happiness, the person focuses on others.  Noone’s happiness, jealousy, or love will ever replace self-love.

Self-love and self-esteem, however, take time to build.  The first step is identifying the difference between wanting revenge (or to be taken back) and wanting something in order to be healthier.


I prefer to focus on doing what makes me happy instead of worrying about what everyone else thinks; their praise or disapproval lasts for a few minutes, but I can never escape my thoughts.

Run Infant Woman, Run

March 2
by
Rochelle Foles
in
Creative Outlets
with
.

Run infant woman
run as fast as you can in any direction
that seems

AWAY

run till you threaten to drop dead

or

just drop
skinned needs, skinned knees,
runs in your new tights
heels of your palms bleeding
from where you s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
that had been lying in wait for your stumble
hungry for your blood
hungry for your self

effacement to bring you
back to this place
so well known

-when you- smart actualized near woman you-
go THERE
and stumble

the asphalt only wins
if
you continue to wear that same pair of tights


(no matter how many times you
s k I d along the unforgiving asphalt
the thing that matters most is that you land softer)

Black History Month Matters

March 1
by
Shallum Atkinson
in
Inspirational People
with
.

Often times people will ask me, “What does Black History Month mean to me?” So let me first explain what black is to me, then why Black History Month matters.


Growing up in Brentwood, Long Island, NY, I never really knew what it had meant to be black. Most of the kids who lived in my area were either black, Hispanic, or of some foreign nationality. There wasn’t much talk about race on a daily basis. We all went to school, came home, played out in the streets together, then went home. The color of my skin was just that—a color. We were all the same to me and I was fine with that.

But then I moved to Lawrenceville, GA. Where the farms and fields were plenty, so many dull two lane roads, and a grocery store so far that walking, like I did in NY, was not an option. Everyone said yes sir or yes ma’am. Sweet tea was somehow different than iced tea. The sun seemed to be down the block over the summers as opposed to light years away. Oh yeah, pollen was not just micro-particles any more, but more like the south’s version of snow.

But most importantly, others had me believe I was “unfortunately” black.

From those days on, I took it upon myself to get educated about being black and found pride in who I was. I read books, watched more TV tailored to those like me, I made new friends with people accepted me for who I was and would drive me to be a version of myself, not someone else. I embraced an identity of blackness. A group that had it harder than others, came from much less, were looked upon as less than, but I didn’t care. If I considered myself to be something other than what I was, I might as well have been nothing at all. Coming to Georgia taught me what it was to be black and I will forever be grateful because I am black and beautiful.

I dedicated myself to helping others realize what I had realized at such a young age. To be proud of who you are, and to be who you are. In college I devoted myself to an organization that would enhance the black male experience and not only aid in, but demand excellence. I became aware politically and socially. I for once in my life had come into microcosmic encounters of what prior generations had faced in full force. Reflecting on racist situations created a greater sense of respect to those who had to endure so much more than I could ever fathom. In turn it also created a greater sense of responsibility to embrace my fellow man and connect with them in ways others would not understand because of who we were. It changed me. BHM challenged me every year to truly find out who I am, where I come from, where I intended to go, and how many I could take with me.

It is a sad to reality to think such masses of people are not comfortable in their skin, simply because people tell them they aren’t in the right skin. Or even worse because they are ashamed of their history and in some ways bear the burden of things like slavery, and genocide, and segregation, and Jim Crow.

Today’s society doesn’t make it any easier. Black people are often told to forget what happened, or get over it. But how? It is ingrained into who we are. In this day and age so many of us are still not equal whether we want to believe it or not. No one will forget the holocaust. No one will forget 9/11.  And I am far from saying those events are unworthy of remembering, but somehow the tragic events of slavery, segregation and racism are irrelevant and no one is to blame. These are the reasons the gaps remain unbridged. These are the reasons the tensions are forever real. This is why I cling to black history and will never forget.

So Black History Month to me is not just a conglomerate of days with a title. It is a month long celebration of all that those before me had to endure and still endure to this day. It is a testament to the many that came before me and sacrificed often times everything they had including their lives, to pave the way for the next one up.


It is a beacon of hope for the many that find themselves hiding behind impersonations and false identities. It is a birthday for so many who left the earth so early fighting for what they believed in and some just going about their business. It is a statement to the world that no matter how many times you are beaten, broken, turned away, segregated, devalued or defamed, you can rise again. You will rise again. Because we rose again.

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