Tag: travel

On Blogging, Friendships, and Seizing the Opportunity

Posted on January 28, 2013 by Jennifer Wolfe

Essential oil altar in Tangerang, Indonesia

Last July I wrote a post about turning your dreams into realities. That was right before I set off on my trip to Indonesia, which brought some of my dreams about world travel to life.

Traveling to Indonesia per se wasn’t one of my dreams; rather, it was the embodiment of pushing myself forward into the universe and seizing opportunities that presented themselves to me. When I applied for and received the US Dept. of Education grant to study global education, teaching in a Muslim country was not on my radar. But as the chance to travel to a country I’ve never visited, and likely wouldn’t have chosen on my own, presented itself, I jumped in. I didn’t look for excuses not to, or reasons why I couldn’t go. I just did it.

Inside an Indonesian market

I started my blog in much the same way. Just decided to do it and began sharing my stories, thoughts, and life lessons through my words. I never thought much about blogging before that, but when the opportunity presented itself, I grabbed it.

I got hooked. Life hasn’t been the same since.

Blogging turned into a creative outlet, a launching pad for my dreams, and a platform to meet people all over the world. For an introvert like me, blogging created relationships with women I now can call friends.

Two of those women, Val and Kathy created a website, Bonbon Break, designed to provide a space to share their thoughts, wisdom, humor and ideas with like-minded women. When Kathy contacted me to be one of the first featured writers, I was thrilled to accept. Since then, we’ve grown our friendships and our websites and pushed ourselves forward.

bonbonbreaklogo200

This week I’ve written an original piece for BonBon Break, “Writing Well and the Readers Will Follow“. I hope you’ll jump over and take a look.

You never know what might be waiting there for you that you never imagined!

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Spending Time in the Snow: Making Memories On the Way to Mammoth

Posted on December 30, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I spend huge amounts of time in the snow. I mean HUGE. More than normal people; well, people who don’t actually LIVE in the snow.

Last weekend, my trip to the snow started like this: left work at lunch, loaded the car, started up some Taylor Swift on the iPod, and drove off in the early afternoon.

Lily Starbucks

Everything started off really well. Driving up the hill, leaving the valley fog behind, we were making progress. Only five hours to Mammoth-no problem before dark.

We even had time to pull off the road and load up on caffeine – it was BOGO Christmas drinks, after all!

This is what a trip to the snow should look like, right?

As we drove uphill, things went downhill. Fast.

Momentarily switching on the radio, we heard the news about Newtown. Tears. Shock. Horror.

Then it started to rain. Not good. The Prius is a lot of things, but it is definitely not a snow car.

We checked the weather channel app – if we hurried, we’d make it over the pass and into Nevada. It would be smooth sailing after that.

Looks pretty, right? It was. Lily quickly grabbed the camera while Taylor boomed through the speakers. So cheery. A white Christmas?

Not so fast. Chains ahead.

Highway 50 isn’t called the ‘loneliest highway in the US’ for nothing. There were NO services, so I had to suck it up and bundle up. My daughter was watching. There was no one else who could do it.

Don’t be fooled by the smile on my face. It was all for the camera. Inside, I was starting to panic. Prius in the snow is not my favorite mode of travel.

My spirits were elevated when the CalTrans chain inspectors, amazed that I did it all by myself, fist-bumped me and sent me over the pass. It was only 12 miles-we could do it. It was only 4:00, and with a three-hour drive in front of us, I wasn’t too worried.

Forgoing our usual shortcut, we opted for the pass over into the Nevada desert. I ditched the chains – again, all by myself, and as snow turned to rain, I thought we were clear.

Damn Weather Channel app.

What looked clear actually became snow. Lots and lots of snow. But it was flat, and as we passed through Bridgeport behind schedule, I felt nervous but confident we could make it.

Compared to 50, Highway 395 is desolate. Flat and decorated with gorgeous rock formations and rivers, I usually enjoy the drive. But at this point it was getting dark, I was tired, and there was snow hovering way too close to the six-inch clearance of the Prius.

Suddenly, we saw it: the one and only traffic alert sign, pronouncing our need for chains. Now.

And like a beacon in the night, the Big Sky Motel appeared, equipped with a large floodlight. It was the only light on the road besides mine, so I quickly pulled into the parking lot and prepared myself.

Like a scene from Psycho, the motel door opened and a grizzled, shaggy man sauntered out in his sweatpants, with an equally scraggly dog following behind him.

“Want a room? Only $69,” he croaked. I smelled something – he must have been enjoying himself in the motel lobby.

Although I desperately wanted to say yes, I declined, but when he offered to help with the chains I jumped on it.

Ten minutes later, we were off. Until the chains broke. In the dark.

At this point, I felt like Wonder Woman. Faster than she could spin into her costume, I jumped out and pulled those suckers off. I was muddy, exhausted, and determined to make it before dawn.

We did.

This is the next morning, enjoying coffee in our favorite funky coffee joint, Stellar Brew.

And this view…what a reward.

She didn’t even mind spending the afternoon in the motel room, studying for finals.

And despite the struggle, the frustrations, and the hours and hours of driving – not to mention the ski race that was canceled, we ended up with a white Christmas after all. And a whole bunch of memories, too.

Mammoth Lakes on Dwellable

Jennifer Wolfe

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Sharing My Tears

Posted on December 19, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

As a teacher, I’m trained in school safety procedures. I know how to protect my students in the classroom.

My first instinct when I heard about the Newtown school shooting, however, was to gather my own children near to me. My 16-year-old daughter and I had a road trip planned that afternoon, so we listened to the radio as the news of the victims and shooter began to emerge. She saw tears rolling down my face as I drove.

I tried to explain why I was crying; it’s the shared grief among the community of motherhood that couldn’t be felt by anyone who hadn’t held their baby in their arms. I explained to her about how we cannot fathom the pain the parents of the slain children must be experiencing. I praised the words of commitment toward ending gun violence, knowing that was a tangible action she could grasp. I shared my sadness and horror that a son would kill his mother–but there is no explaining that. All I could do as I drove along was hold her hand and share my tears.

image courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

Jennifer Wolfe

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reading with mamawolfe: Wild by Cheryl Strayed

Posted on December 10, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Like many avid readers, my bookshelf overflows with piles of ‘to-read’ or ‘in progress’ titles. Being one who cannot part with a favorite, volumes of old friends mingle with the new, making for quite a commotion in space. I peruse, sort, and even dust the titles carefully, always wishing for more time, for those moments when no one needs me and I can cuddle up with someone else’s thoughts for a little while.

It is rare that I finish reading multiple chapters of a book in one sitting, let alone the entire book in the course of a weekend. Moms and teachers just don’t have that kind of time.

Recently I found a book that wouldn’t let me ignore it. I’d heard about Wild, by Cheryl Strayed – everyone seemed to be talking about if after Oprah announced it as her first pick for her revised “Oprah Book Club 2.0” last year. The problem for me, aside from a disconcerting lack of time for myself, was that I always bristle at the mainstream. When something becomes a big seller, it makes me nervous. Not because I think I’m somehow more “ivory tower” than anyone else is, but because I’m really, really choosy about how I spend my time.

So when I cracked the cover of Wild, I was ready to be unimpressed. I was surprisingly disappointed – not in the writing, but that I could not put it down.

After the first few pages, I grabbed my writing notebook and began jotting down quotes. Like this one on page 51: “Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told.” Ok, Cheryl, you’re speaking to me now. To the woman who kissed a Komodo dragon in Indonesia last summer. To the one who is trying to write and hoping someone is listening. To the mom of two teenagers. I’m hooked.

Wild tells the autobiographical story of Cheryl’s early twenties, when her life had absolutely spiraled down into a place where many of us would simply give up. From an unorthodox, meager childhood, to the early, tragic death of her mother, to a young marriage and eventually hitting rock-bottom abusing heroin, Cheryl’s story was not unbelievable. I could feel the absolute plausibility of her words, seeing many women who could have easily fallen into the choices she made.

What I could not believe is her courage. And independence. And her somewhat reckless decision to hike the Pacific Crest trail, alone, without any experience.

But I admired her courage, her independence, and reckless decisions. I felt connected to her. I, myself, have hiked day trips on the Pacific Crest trail, but never would I have considered going all the way from the Mojave Desert to Oregon. That takes some guts. I understood how she made her decision, “how few choices (she) had, and how often (she) had to do the thing (she) least wanted to do.” I’ve been there-as a mom, an educator, and a woman. Sometimes, it seems like I’m there on a daily basis.

Cheryl’s journey reminded me of the power of the human spirit, the struggle so many of us go through to find ourselves, and the power of mind over body. While some might mock her for her reckless unpreparedness, none could fault her for her determination. When Cheryl could have simply escaped into the depths of an anonymous life, blaming everyone and everything for her problems, she instead set out. “I asked for the shelter of my tent, for the smallest sense that something was shielding me from the entire rest of the world…”

Through her journey, she discovered the shelter of the world, the gifts that the universe has for those of us courageous enough to listen. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, overworked, or out of time for yourself, please stop and crack open the cover of Wild. You’ll be glad you did.

Jennifer Wolfe

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47

Posted on December 9, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count.
It’s the life in your years.”

– Abraham Lincoln

My Indonesian ‘dress cut’ experience

I took this seriously last year; breathing some life into areas that have been dormant, neglected, or otherwise overlooked. Another year of happiness, laughter and lessons learned – here are some of my favorites:

Go big.

This year was really about trying something new-all the time. I forced myself in directions I never knew I was interested in or qualified for. I wrote-a lot. I threw it all out there and watched where it landed, pushed a few pieces into place, and found some that had gone missing. I learned that going big is often scary, but always worth it.

Let go.

My kids officially grew taller than me this year. It actually was a humbling experience when my baby boy passed me up. Watching my daughter drive away from me for the first time chipped a piece off my heart, reminding me I had to let go and trust that everything has a way of working itself out. I released some habits and situations that weren’t working for me, looking for more positive instead of negative. I learned that letting go is growing forward.

Work hard.

I surely did that this year. I pushed for my best and tried not to repeat what wasn’t working for me. I showed up. I tried. I learned that working hard is exhausting, but creates energy in the right places.

Be humble.

I went places this year that I never imagined I would. I felt outnumbered, out of place, and out of control. I remember the calls to prayer, the fears, and the deep sense of respect at how small a world we live in, yet what a large part I can play. I learned that being humble can bring safety and comfort, and that relinquishing control can reveal a whole new perspective.

Say no.

Learning to stand up for ourselves can take a lifetime. Watching bullying, in our community, our country, and our world gave me the power to practice saying no. Daily, I listened to one of my college interns call out ‘Make good choices’ to my students as they exited my classroom door, and tried to do the same. I learned that saying no allows me to say yes when I want to, and that going with my gut is usually takes me in the right direction.

Be grateful.

Obama’s elementary school in Jakarta

I saw people and places this year that shattered my heart and made me fearful for our future. I met people who lifted me up, taught me about hope, and reminded me to make peace with what I have, where I am, and who I’m with. This year, I learned that blessings come in a multitude of ways, and that happiness and gratitude hold hands.

As I end 47 and open the chapter of 48, I think of all that I’ve experienced: the children, parenting, family, teaching, education, memories and motherhood that blended themselves together and brought such lessons to me. Typing this, I’m reminded of all that I hold close, and all that is yet to come. I’m happy about 47, and watch out 48- I’ve got big ideas waiting to throw at you. This is definitely not the time to feel old!

Jennifer Wolfe

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