Deadhead for Harris 2024

by in Action, Activism, Policy, Random musings, US Politics and tagged , , , | 1 Comment

I am, unapologetically, a progressive.

I believe none of us are free until all of us are free.

And, I believe government can and should play a role for good in our lives by providing quality education, quality healthcare, building and maintaining infrastructures of varying sorts, ensuring safety and security for all its citizens and residents, and by creating a space for fairness and equity that allows all of us to live our best lives. What these mean look different for each of us and they are incredibly abstract I know. But, …

I also believe in our individual rights to speak our minds and air our opinions without the threat of prosecution or retribution from those we criticise or with whom we disagree. I believe each of us should be free to love whom we love, marry whom we want to marry so long as that love and desire is reciprocated freely and without coercion, and causes no harm to an individual. I also believe individuals should be allowed to make decisions about what shape their families take and at a time when they feel is right for them. I believe each of us has a voice through our vote and each of those votes should be possible and convenient to access and must be counted. I also believe that money should be removed from the political process entirely — primarily because in the US we spend far, far too much on elections. I mean, seriously, y’all: two year campaigns are now the norm. France had two national elections in like 10 days. Surely, there’s a better way.

These are just the big, abstract ‘things’ that make me tick. And, they serve as the starting points for which candidates get my vote. None of this should be a surprise to those who know me.

And, I must tell you: right now, I am fired up and ready to go, and I’m all-in for Vice President Harris to become Madame President Harris. I cannot wait to vote for her at the top of the ticket! [Just a reminder: if you are an overseas voter, you still have time to both register and request your ballot.]

As a Deadhead and political junkie, when a few fellow Deadheads asked for an updated Stealie to reflect this new reality and campaign season, I asked my creative and talented husband to help us out. He delivered.

Feel free to download the hi-resolution versions here if you want to print your own swag. Sharing is caring. Just please don’t profit off the images.1 We’re not selling them; we’re simply showing our support.

I was listening recently to an interview with another hero of mine: Stacy Abrams. This gist of her words was that we all have a responsibility to pay attention and to participate in our government. Our vote is our voice; and when we pay attention, remain engaged and take part in the process of forming our government and holding those elected to account, the entire system works better for all of us. And, there’s a certain beauty and strength in that.

LFG!

kamala stealy – ALTDownload
kamala stealy – 01Download

  1. PS. It’s come to my attention in the days since I posted these that there are individuals intending to print these images on merch to sell, with the intention to profit. I just want to say: I can’t do anything to stop you from doing so or at least I won’t. But, that seems like a rather unDeadhead community kind of thing to do. That said, if it helps elect a President Kamala Harris, I’ll gladly take one for the team. But, … still, a rather uncool thing to do. ↩︎

Goals

by in #365grateful, Everyday Life, Inspiration, life, Random musings, reading, Running and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

At some point during the first Covid lockdown, I found my running mojo. Finding my mojo was unintentional, but for the first time in my life, I found a consistency and rhythm to my running which had thus far not existed.

In my 50s and for the first time since I was in my 20s, I ran a full no-walk 5k. Then, I ran a full no-walk 10k. I also managed to maintain running streaks extending well into double and then triple digits, only ending them because of debilitating injuries or thanks to a rogue appendix and an emergency appendectomy.

This year, I reached another long-term goal, managing a full one-year run streak. That streak continues today. Beginning on 16 February 2023, I have run at least one mile (or at least 1.6 km) every single day, a milestone and achievement I’d never dreamed possible. My run today — run streak day (RSD) 489 — places me tantalisingly close to RSD500. Absolutely crazy! But, I now know that I can reach that milestone, so long as I train smarter and run smarter. So long as I believe in myself. Mostly, I must believe in myself.

Since reaching my one-year runniversary in February, I’ve struggled to define my next running goals. Partially, I’ve simply been too busy with work to think much beyond the day-to-day grind. My daily runs have allowed me to empty my head and simply cope with the stress and mental exhaustion I’ve felt. Sounds silly, I know, but running helps me enormously with my mental focus. Anyway, initially and after I reached my first and primary goal in February, I next aimed to run a full no-walk 10k again, something I had not done since January 2022 when I twisted my ankle. The ice of Helsinki winter defeated me when my dull Icebugs and over confidence left me rather humbled. On 28 April, I ran a full 10k again, besting my previous fastest 10k time by a fairly decent margin. That was a rather unintentional achievement, and demonstrated to me that I am stronger now and a better runner now.

But, now what?

I’ll never be a Jasmin Paris as inspiring she is nor do I have any desire to become an ultra marathoner. But, I’ve had the Torremolinos Half Marathon on my mind since I passed a few runners in 2023 when we were on holiday in Spain. Plus, I really, really love running there, something I have enjoyed immensely on our holidays but found a new joy in this past year.

Years ago, I had signed up for the Helsinki Half, planning my training with the help of Hal Higdon and a healthy dose of ‘I have plenty of time’. Well… my training went off the rails when we were on holiday in Cuba and I never really resumed it after our return to Helsinki. I could have likely walked the half, but self-doubt and shame got the better of me.

That was then; this is now.

I have not yet signed up for that half in Torremolinos. But, I have signed up and officially began training for the Helsinki Midnight Run in mid-September, setting the goal of running it in one hour. Right now, my fastest ever 10k clocks in at 1:12:07. Clearly, I have some work to do, which began today with my first run with a clear training plan and targets.

And, then? We shall see. Borrowing from a book on writing, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, I’ll take it run by run, goal by goal. Today, I absolutely believe in myself much, much more than I did several years ago when I struggled to finish the c25k programme. Today, I know that I can do hard things. Particularly if I take it step by step, run by run, and week by week.

And, for now, I’ll start with that 10k. Then? We shall see…

  • The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. This was step one on my journey towards my next goals.
  • My training calendar from 2023. Green circles indicate a walk, yellow circles indicate a run and red circles indicate yoga. My current runstreak began on 16 February and has continued to today, runstreak day (RSD) 489.
  • My training calendar for this year, 2024, thus far.

One Cake To Rule Them All

by in cooking, Random musings and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Some time during Covid-19 and lockdown, I lost my cooking mojo. And, finding the joy of cooking of any sort once again has been difficult if not impossible. Too little time, too little inspiration and a general boredom with food in general have limited my time in the kitchen over the past several years.

Recently, however, I decided to make my most favourite chocolate dessert at the end of a challenging and intense academic year, partially simply to celebrate surviving the last year, but also and more importantly to celebrate my colleagues and let them know I am enormously grateful for their support, kindness and overall loveliness.

After posting a few pics of the cake to shame all other cakes, several friends asked for the recipe. I finally sat down and wrote it out and put all of the various links in one place.

Here it is….

This is actually several different recipes combined to create my version of the New York Times Cooking’s Mississippi Mud Pie, which The Cuban and I now call The One Cake to Rule Them All.

Layer 1: Chocolate Shortbread Crust

Start by making a chocolate shortbread crust. I used this recipe, but doubled it to make one larger pie crust and another smaller crust. I also use a bit less than 1/4 c of sugar the original recipe or 1/2 c when doubling the recipe.

Once the ingredients are mixed together, I place the dough in between two sheets of parchment paper and roll it out to the desired thickness (I prefer thinner, but thicker works as well). Once rolled out, place the dough on a flat baking sheet and chill it for a few moments (~5 min). Then, use the centre of the springform pan(s) to cut the bottom of the crust, and trim a long straight strip for the side of the tin. You may need to repeat rolling out the dough a couple of times to line the springform. You’ll want the crust to extend to a bit more than 1/2 up the side of the tins.

This is perhaps the hardest step and takes the most patience, to my mind. You may need to use scraps  from the shortbread to fill in gaps. It’s fairly easy to work with, but once it warms up and reaches room temperature it is a bit trickier to roll out. The important point here is to get the crust as even as possible and press it in to the tin so that you have a full crust. If it isn’t exactly straight at the top, that’s fine. It doesn’t need to be perfect. 🙂


Layer 2: Chocolate Fudgy Brownie

This layer and the next are fairly consistent with The New York Times Cooking’s original recipe, which is also available here if you do not have a NYT subscription. Here are my notes:

  • I use 95% dark chocolate throughout the recipe. At a minimum I would use at least 80% dark chocolate, but darker chocolate seems to make this even better to our mind, particularly if you like chocolate and want the chocolate flavours to really shine through. I prefer to weigh the chocolate and use a bit more rather than a bit less than the recipe calls for.
  • I use about 45 g of light brown sugar rather than 67 g dark brown sugar.
  • I also use about 50 g of granulated sugar or less than the 100 g called for in the recipe.
  • I recommend slightly underbaking this layer so that it is rather chewy and a bit more fudgy.

Layer 3: Chocolate Custard

This layer is also fairly consistent with The New York Times Cooking’s original recipe, which is also available here if you do not have a NYT subscription. Here are my notes:

  • Again, I use 95% dark chocolate throughout the recipe. At a minimum I would use at least 80%, but darker seems to make this even better to our mind, particularly if you like chocolate and want the chocolate flavours to really shine through. Use at least as much as you need in the recipe rather than just under the amount. I prefer to weigh the chocolate as well.
  • I use about 50 of granulated sugar.
  • If you need to smooth out the custard, you can run it through a fine mesh strainer.
  • Chilling this before adding it to the to of the brownie layer is crucial. Let it chill completely and then whisk it a bit before pouring it over the baked brownie. I would also recommend chilling the brownie and shortbread layers completely before adding the custard. Tap the pan a bit to smooth it over once you’ve added the custard.

Layer 4: Mocha Mascarpone Frosting

This is an addition I introduced to my version of the Mississippi Mud Pie a few years ago, and I think it makes it an entirely new and extra special cake. I use a modified version of this recipe, which doesn’t come out as dark as it looks in the picture, but it tastes a-maz-ing. Added bonus: the cake recipe in this link is also rather tasty if you need a chocolate cake. 😉 Here are my notes on the frosting only:

  • I do not make as much frosting as called for in the recipe, and even with the amount I normally make (which is roughly half what is needed), it will be enough to cover two pies (one large and one small). So, you may have some frosting left over, which goes great with brownies or mixed with strawberries and blueberries or… by the spoonful if you need a late night snack a la Nigella Lawson. It’s a great chocolatey cream cheese-like frosting.
  • I do not normally add the espresso powder for this recipe.
  • I use about 1/2 of the heavy cream called for, warming up 1/2 c and setting aside 1/4 c of cream.
  • I use about 1/4 c of sugar total. We prefer less sweetness and less sugar in general.
  • I use 1 container of mascarpone.
  • It’s incredibly important to let the warmed cream cocoa mixture to cool completely before mixing in the mascarpone.
  • If you want to add a bit more wow to this layer, when warming the milk, split about an inch of a vanilla bean and add it to the cream when you warm it up. Then, remove the vanilla bean strip and scrape it into the cocoa mixture.
  • After whipping the mascarpone into the cocoa-infused cream frost the cake top only — that is the brownie layer. You can add as much as you like, but only frost to within about a cm from the edge of the cake.

Once you’ve assembled all of the layers, chill the cake completely before serving. I normally make this the day before we slice it up.

When you do serve this, you’ll want to offer rather smaller slices. Less is absolutely more with this cake. It is rich AF. Folks can always go back for seconds. 🙂 When you serve it, make sure you get all four layers out of the tin. The first slice will be hard to remove from the tin. But, it still tastes fantastic even if looks messy.

It also tastes brilliant with strawberries especially and blueberries.

Enjoy! And, if you do make this, let me know how it turns out for you!

Vengeance is not justice

by in Current events, Human Rights, Justice, Random musings, War and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

In 2002, I spent about two weeks in Israel, primarily there to chaperone young Russians during an economics summer school at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. But, more so, I was there to work, scouring through institutional archives for a project related to the institution at which I worked in Moscow, founded by a giant of a man from Israel, the late Gur Ofer. That trip changed me in ways I still feel today. Particularly today.

When Gur picked me up from the hotel on Sunday morning to drive me to his office on campus, he was pensive. (He often was, but this was something far deeper and more tinged with worry than simple intellectualising.) He was listening to the radio, which I clearly did not understand given that it was in Hebrew. Waiting for him to share his thoughts, he finally said simply, ‘I’m worried. It’s been too quiet for too long, and *this* quiet feels ominous. That quiet might change during this trip. Please make sure that you have your phone on at all times and I can reach you. There is concern that the quiet is about to break.’

I can’t remember now exactly when things changed and, honestly, I quickly mentally blocked it, But, several days into our trip the first bombing occurred. There would be two more during our stay, two of which were chillingly close to where we had been in those moments. Just after my trip to Israel, the cafe I lunched at when working on campus was bombed. You knew before you saw the news what had happened because every single mobile phone in your vicinity rang / chimed with calls and messages asking if the owner was okay. It is a sound that haunts me still.

That’s the thing about terrorism. It is random and unexpected and leaves you terrified. That’s kind of the point. Indiscriminate killing is precisely the point.

In the face of yet more seemingly inexplicable violence, two things about that trip remained with me and come to mind whenever violence erupts in Israel / Palestine, even now, 21+ years later.

First, Israel is so incredibly small. I did not travel to the furthest southern point during that trip. But, I did travel to the north, along the borders with Lebanon, Syria and Jordan, and around Lake Galilee and then down to the Red Sea. Ramallah was visible from our hotel, which shocked me for some reason. This was before the walls around Palestinians were erected, but there were signs of what was to come. And, the spaces demarcated for ‘Arabs’ / Palestinians were shrinking already then. They have shrunk further now and continue to do so as each new settlement is sanctioned. But, it was the smallness of the space which shocked me, given what a large mental space that land continues to occupy in our policies and debates.

Second, with the exception of the ultra-conservative and hardline Zionists—some of which were gathering for their own conference (rally) near our hotel and which offered an utterly surreal perspective of how narratives of erasure can be remarkably and chillingly similar when uttered by one group or another—everyone wanted peace. They wanted a place and space, mental and physical, free of violence and in which their children could play and grow up and old. They wanted to laugh and smile and live their lives, untethered to their phones and sudden alerts or the f*cking news, knowing that the people they loved were not casualties in yet another senseless act of violence perpetrated by one madman or another. They simply wanted peace.

I do not know the answer to how to ‘fix’ Israel. Who does? But, I do know that whatever we’ve been trying to do for the last 100 years has not worked. And, honestly, right now it just feels incredibly sad. Not simply because of what has happened over the past several days, which is utterly heartbreaking and atrocious. But, what comes next terrifies me further. No one will ‘win’ this particular war. Not when two parties to it advocate openly for the complete annihilation and erasure of the other. I am horrified by the actions of the Hamas militants. I am also horrified by the words and actions of Bibi in the wake of Hamas’ actions. Why? Because I am still human and these actions are intentionally dehumanising.

Vengeance is not justice. And, there can be no peace without justice.

{NB: I wrote this after reading this piece, which appeared in The Guardian yesterday.}

Ripples & reflections

by in #365grateful, Attitude, Community, Environment, Everyday Life, family, Finland, Gratitude, Helsinki, life, nature, Random musings, The Cuban and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This year has been anything but stress-free, let’s say. Finding moments of calm and allowing my mind to rest and find a peace have been… fleeting and exceedingly rare.

But, I’m extremely fortunate to have an amazing partner in life to help distribute the heavy loads and ease those burdens and fears, and who never fails to take my mind off the more weighty issues on any given day and helps me find moments of calm and something to smile or laugh about.

One of the highlights each day centres around our evening strolls. I so welcome these times spent together, exploring wherever we are regardless of scenery or season. And, there is something particularly welcome about strolls in the summer months in Helsinki, when the days are long and the evening light stuns. Each day and each sky offers a slightly different canvas, and one which provides an explosion of colour, a contrast so incredibly stark when compared with the blacks and whites and greys of the longer winter months and absurdly short winter days.

It’s so, so hard to recall what the opposing seasons look like when we are in the middle of one. We far, far prefer summer. Always.

The following three panoramas were taken [on a Nokia G42] on three separate and recent strolls, within the last week or so. Each image was taken from a spot which lies less than a 15-min jaunt from our building. And, we love each one immensely.

One of the things I love about these specific images are reflections of the sky and scenes above that lie on the water. Even with the ripples created by the many ducks who call these areas home, the reflections seem so crisp and so clear.

Most importantly, each time we go out and spend just a few moments during our strolls standing and drinking in these pockets of beauty and incredible views, I can feel the stress of life sloughing off and away.

Come December, these are the images I’ll hold in my mind’s eye and reflect upon, wondering ‘Was it all just a dream?’

Scenes from an evening stroll

by in #365grateful, birds, Environment, Everyday Life, Finland, Helsinki, nature, Random musings, The Cuban and tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

My husband is a brilliant photographer. He also love birdies. We both do. And, we’ve come to love time spent wandering around our neighbourhood in Helsinki each evening, enjoying time away from our desks and computers, leaving devices in pockets and on silent mode, and just marvelling at the woodlands, views and creatures with whom we share this habitat.

For the last several weeks, we’ve been planning on taking our proper camera [Canon 250D with 70-300 mm nano USM lens] out with us on our strolls. My schedule and weather have conspired against us until yesterday. And, what an evening stroll it was.

Over more than two hours, we saw in this order:

  • a juvenile goshawk
  • a fledgling great spotted woodpecker
  • several goshawks both in-flight and perched
  • a juvenile grey heron
  • a hedgehog

We also saw multiple bunnies (wild hares) ranging from tiny to gigantic, various geese and duckies, and one very annoyed cat sat on its glassed in balcony.

The pictures below are from that stroll, and do not capture all of the lovely creatures we happened upon yesterday evening nor some of the more stunning moments they provided us. So many more moments with these beauties remain etched in our minds’ eyes, yet unpreserved by a lens. They are precious still.

Several weeks ago on our evening stroll, we turned a corner and caught sight of two goshawks flying side-by-side just above our heads, revealing their incredibly dappled underbellies. Several days ago, we witnessed the same heron we saw yesterday cautiously and painfully slowly manoeuvring itself stalking tiny fishes, which it then caught with its beak. Another day, the most gorgeous of great spotted woodpeckers landed mere feet from me on an evening run. Our neighbourhood fox has also trotted by us on multiple occasions more recently, wandering about looking for one meal of another.

This, my friends, is urban nature at its finest. This is Helsinki in summer, although we’ve seenall of these creatures in winter as well.

Evenings like this are why we love our neighbourhood so, so much. And, they restore us.

[Click on an image below to see the full versions and see the captions.]

Birds of a feather

by in #365grateful, Environment, Everyday Life, Finland, Gratitude, Helsinki, nature, Random musings and tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Recently, on an evening stroll, I looked down on the path my husband and I traversed to find a single solitary feather, one with polk-a-dots of all things. It honestly took my breath away, stopping me in my tracks. It’s one of the few feathers I’ve ever felt compelled to pick up and bring home.

The feather I found in the woods near our flat, June 2023.

We did not see the specific bird this feather belonged to. But, we’re fairly certain it was once part of a Great Spotted Woodpecker‘s plume, one of many we’ve come to love in the woodlands near our home in Helsinki.

These creatures have visited our balconies for years, and we welcome their high-pitched somewhat annoying songs and signals, delight when we catch them flitting from tree to tree in search of food or finding their way back to their homes to feed their even more annoying fledglings. The trees around us are dotted with various occupied and abandoned holes this time of year. And, the woods are filled with their cries each evening as we wander on our evenings strolls. The only bird which gives me more of a thrill when spotted (no pun intended) is a hummingbird, and those tiny creatures do not venture this far north as far as I know.

But, woodpeckers and these spotted versions with splashes of bright red on their heads (males) and bums (both males and females) are abundant. We love them, affectionately referring to each individual bird as ‘Woodie!’ Yes, we are just that creative with our bird names.

Several years ago, as I sat reading on the balcony of our last flat one afternoon, one of these amazing creatures landed on the balcony railing a metre or so from where I sat, and pecked at some of the seeds we had laid out for them. He then eyed me as I eyed him. I say ‘him’ without really knowing at the time if it was male or female. [Now, I believe it was a male, given the bright red markings on his head and thanks to the various bird books we’ve since acquired and consulted.]

It was an incredible moment, and one which took my breath away just as much as that tiny feather found on the path more recently did. More so, I’d say. Just me and a woodpecker sitting on the balcony looking at one another. No other sounds mattered. Nothing else really mattered in that moment. Just the two of us, bird and human. The entire encounter lasted no longer than a minute, if that. But, the memory of it will last a lifetime. Years later, it thrills me still.

We’ve come to recognise the call of the woodpecker, noting when we hear it for the first time in spring and understanding that spring is near. We also know that when we hear it from our balcony, Woodie is letting us know that we need to put out the bird feeder. We imagine his calls gently letting us know that we’ve neglected our bird-feeding duties.

Catching glimpses of these creatures in the woods provides moments of hope and peace. And, most likely, a quickening of our heart rates. We hear them far more often than we actually see them. But, in the years since we’ve learned their specific calls, we have also identified the high-pitched screeches of their fledglings, awaiting their evening meals. We have caught the shadow of young ones, not quite happy in their holes and not quite ready to venture out. We’ve also spied a juvenile or two, who look as though they are just leaving their nests and venturing a bit further from their homes. Tiny, fat fluffly birds, pecking away at the trees and looking for a tasty morsels to sustain them.

Whichever creature lost its feather, I hope it is thriving, and the loss of that single gorgeous bit of its plume simply reflected a change in the seasons rather than an encounter with a predator. I keep looking up and down now on our evening strolls, not simply hoping to catch a woodpecker in flight from tree top to tree top. I also hope to find another, perhaps larger and more symmetrical polk-a-dot feather.

But, if I never find another feather, at least we have this one. It’s gorgeous. Perhaps even more so, but at least as much as the bird who shed to whom it belonged.

Progress: 11 years of running

by in Attitude, books, Everyday Life, life, Random musings, reading, Running and tagged , , | 1 Comment

I love running. I really do. And, that surprises me. Still.

In July 2012, a crafting friend of mine was training for the Helsinki Midnight Run and invited me to join her on a run. Realising that I could certainly do with a bit of physical activity and understanding that I was far from in shape, I accepted her invitation. That first ‘run’ was more walking than running, but it was a start. Without much training and far from confident, less than two months later in September 2012, we finished that 10-k run dead last, neither one of us running the entire route, but simply focused on finishing.

Since then, I’ve logged a lot of miles (my SportsTracker app tells me, 11 203 km in total). But, it wasn’t until 2017 or 2018 that I really approached anything resembling consistency in my running habit, although winter running was still a bit more challenging. I was a run-walker, occasionally managing a 20- or 30-min run without walking, and a few very slow 5ks here and there.

Something shifted in 2020, however, moving from sporadic to consistent runs. By 2021, I became a daily runner, affectionately known in running circles as a ‘streaker’. [No, I am not a ‘naked runner’, also a term with a very different understanding amongst runners.] I blame Covid-19 — not testing positive, but the luxury of time in my schedule once commuting was no longer necessary, along with the desire and need to do something besides sit behind a computer all day every day, prompting me to go outside every day for a run. Run streaks — running at least 1.6 km or 1 mile daily — challenge and motivate me in equal measure, and have taught me that smaller goals help achieve much grander and seemingly impossible, unattainable ambitions.

Since 2021, running a full 10k was no longer impossible — I’ve achieved that once unachievable target. Just running daily for months on end, once unthinkable, is now normal; not running is abnormal. My current run streak, during which I have run on 118 consecutive days as of yesterday, is inching ever closer to my longest run streak (run streak day or RSD 173, which was halted thanks to a rogue appendix and emergency appendectomy last September). Barring injury or illness, my plan is to reach 174, hopefully reaching RSD 180, and then we shall see. Another goal is to run a 5k in 30 min or less (I’m currently inching closer, with new personal best of 33:07, down from ~42 min just a few years ago). My running goals shift, and that’s absolutely fine.

Had you asked me in 2012 if any of these things were possible, I’d have told you that you’re crazy.

None of this happened overnight. Comparing the woman who took those first tentative steps towards running in July 2012 to the woman writing this who kitted up for yesterday’s run astounds me. I see (and feel) how far I’ve come. It’s been an incredibly long journey, not just in terms of miles, but in terms of the mental battles I’ve fought on various runs, losing some, winning others. More than anything, I am much more confident in my ability to set running goals, forgiving (of myself) when I abandon or alter them regardless of reason, and knowing that not every run will leave me feeling awesome either about myself or the world. Some runs sucks, just like some days suck. But, I now know I can achieve the goals I set for myself, bit by bit, navigating peaks and valleys along the way, eventually reaching that destination I’ve mapped out for myself.

I’m currently reading Running Like a Girl, by Alexandra Heminsley. So much of her own journey resonates with me, from those first awkward runs to not knowing or understanding the specific lingo and language specific to runners, terms like pronation, wicking fabric, pace or hydration or fuelling needs, chafing, and the all-important but simple understanding that consistency matters and that it takes more than one run to make any progress at all.

Running has afforded me some mental space to process … shit. My own shit. I use that time on trails and paths working towards my running goals to also work through various problems and concerns in the rest of my life, to disentangle and leave behind the day’s woes. And, I yet to regret a run, even the bad ones. Weirdly, I also approach my daily life like I do most runs, particularly the harder ones. It’s all about the simple action of continuing to place one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, until I get where I need / want to.

But, running daily has also allowed me time to step away from everything else in life and this world, and simply focus on run the run I’m in, sometimes focusing on a single solitary kilometre. No comparison to others, beyond a comparison to myself. No competition or race, other than attempting to outpace myself.

My approach to running works for me, and demands I find my own path in order to reach that finish line, whatever and wherever it is.

And, these lessons have so much relevance to life as well. To my life specifically.

I have learned these last several years that I can do hard things. More so, the hard things seem less daunting more manageable and reasonable when broken up into smaller bits. Just as there have been days when simply getting out of bed has been hard, the hardest part of some runs has simply been kitting up or getting out the door. But, I also know that I can do all of these things, and then some.

Over time, hard things become easier. More accurately, I become stronger. Because I *am* stronger.

And, more than anything, this is why I love running.

My first ‘run’ from July 2012. [Thank you, Tiina!]
Reading about running: my fav hobby
A 5k from July 2020
A 5k from June 2023 (yesterday’s in fact)

Liminal state

by in Attitude, Everyday Life, Helsinki, Random musings, Work and tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

As a long-time migrant, who’s lived outside her ‘home’ country nearly as long as she lived within its borders, I’m no stranger to existing in a space neither here nor there. Nor is this particular moment my first professional transition.

It is, however, the first time I’ve needed to truly redefine who and what I am at least in part, moving from a space and time in which I identified primarily as an ‘instructor’ of a very specific type to no longer laying claim to that title or identity. I am uncertain, about what role or position I will occupy in future, in addition to a great many other things. But, perhaps, removing the label ‘ & instructor’ from my email signature was yet one more difficult step in this rather lengthy transition.

Victor Turner referred to that betwixt and between reality that accompanies rites of passage within specific cultures as ‘liminal states’. We transition from one thing to another, but that period in the middle of opposing states leaves us hovering between identities, between what we were and what we will become. Typically, participants in processes and rituals have a label waiting for them to claim and occupy, although what that means for and to them might remain rather undefined and illusive.

I was an instructor until yesterday at 12.01 in the afternoon; I am not sure what I will become in the weeks and months to come.

Despite occupying an undefined liminal state, despite being what is referred to as a liminoid, a weird term applied to those of us fortunate enough to live in this post-industrial gig economy that demands multiple skills and talents, I am not one thing. ‘Instructor’ was simply one identity of many, and one which offered more than a paycheck, becoming an identity which was as much personal as it was intellectually challenging and rewarding in equal measure and unexpected albeit welcome ways.

I am a woman. I am a feminist. I am a wife, thankfully to a fellow feminist. I am a friend, as well as a daughter and in-law. I am a craftivist, a reader and a bibliophile. I am a writer, and I am a bloody good editor, although not of my own texts (who is, I wonder?). I am a runner, gratefully so. I am an anthropologist, more precisely a medical anthropologist. I am an American, despite questioning my ability at this point to physically live in my home country again for so many reasons. I am an activist. I am a lover of coffee and gin, depending upon the time of day. I am a birder, obsessed with tiny, loud baby woodpeckers and finding the nests of our neighbourhood goshawks. I am a migrant. I am a Deadhead. I am a science communicator. I am.

So many of these individual identities featured if not required transitions from one state to another, some instantaneous, others slow-burning transformations which took years. Others still feel like goals, as if I am in the process of becoming them. Some identities pervade my every action, whilst others happily occupy less-visible outward expressions. And, naturally, this list does not represent the totality of who and what I am.

There will come a day when I move beyond this liminality, and enter into a status and identity which will offer some new meaning and new status to me. What that will be, I do not know. When that will be is a nonspecific ‘eventually’.

Years ago, one of my mentors would answer the question, ‘How are you?’, with ‘I am.’

So, for now, I am…. Temporarily, I am becoming something else. And, that’s okay.

A series of lasts

by in #365grateful, Attitude, Communicating science, Community, Education, Finland, Graduate school, Helsinki, Kindness, Random musings, Science and tagged , , | Leave a comment

Bloody hell the last few weeks have been emotionally draining and exhausting. And, quite simply, so very, very emotional.

Since definitively learning that I did not secure a job I desperately wanted and believe I would have done well in, a job I have also done albeit informally for nearly a decade, I’ve been extremely busy.

Doing what? Well, *that* job.

My teaching schedule this spring has been insane, particularly this last month. From 1 to 31 May, I logged 92 academic hours of teaching, which included 7 different groups of students for specific courses and a two-day workshop on grant writing to researchers from SE Asia. I’ve also had more revision work than I normally do this time of year. Sleep and rest have taken a back seat.

This week, however, the pace slowed down significantly. In total, I *only* had two lectures: one on Monday and one this morning. Today’s class meeting, one of my largest ever groups for the advanced grant writing workshop I designed, adjusted-based-on-feedback, and taught and one of the most active classes ever, concluded. It was also a few doors down from the very first classroom I stepped into as an educator at the University of Helsinki in August 2014.

After we finished and the last students left, I took a few moments to linger and just … be.

What am I feeling right now?

Resignation. Sadness. A sense of injustice. And, gratitude. Mostly, a profound sense of grief as well as accomplishment.

One thing I’ve learned in these last few weeks is that my time in these classrooms has not been wasted. Not only have I learned a tremendous amount about the topics I have taught, I’ve also heard from so many students, current and former, how much they’ve learned and taken from our time together. Out a sense of respect for the students I have had this month in particular, I was honest with them about my fate and future, because this affects them as well. And, perhaps more than it affects me — future course offerings available to them will undoubtedly change and shift next autumn.

I’ve also learned a hell of a lot about myself, in these past few weeks as well as looking back on my evolution as an instructor. And, I have absolutely no regrets about any of it at all.

None of this has been easy. Far, far from it. In fact, this has been one of the most difficult professional moments of my life. Partially because I know it is coming to an end based on decisions entirely beyond my own control. Partially because I do not know what comes next (other than a mountain of reviewing of student work). And, partially because I have had so many last moments over the past several weeks. Lasts I’d rather not be ‘the last’.

The last class meeting on the Meilahti campus and for the doctoral programme in health sciences, the programme I initially felt most able to and comfortable working with. [The room itself was bloody awful; the kindness and support from the students were immense and powerful.]

The last two courses on the Kumpula campus, the fields I felt least capable of communicating with because they focus on things like chemistry, mathematics, computer science and (space) physics — the natural sciences. [Forgive me for thinking of space lasers and robots, but I can’t help myself.] My last courses were immeasurably rewarding and the students were incredibly kind and supportive, as well as engaged and vocal, something I wasn’t really expecting, to be honest.

The last class meeting on the City Centre campus and in the humanities and social sciences. This class was in a room with one of my favourite views of Helsinki, and was with a group which remained in the classroom for more than 30 minutes after our course officially concluded to simply talk and commiserate with me. Leaving with three of the participants, they asked me if I needed a hug, which left me just a weebit more broken.

The last class meeting this morning for students in the environmental sciences was just down the hall from where it all began for me, and the last time I’ll teach my favourite course, Grant Writing, Part II. This group was amazing. They all are, but there was something about the dynamics of this specific course that made it … work. And, as I write this now, I am bereft.

And, come Monday, I will have my very last class meeting for UH’s doctoral researchers as a transferrable skills instructor. I am dreading it.

When I arrived back home this afternoon after class, I received feedback from the first of these lasts. Here’s three snippets from that feedback:

‘Everything in this course had a clear purpose, and it was all beneficial to my learning. I know constructive feedback is important for making improvements, but I can’t think of anything needing improvement. Great course, great lecturer, very unfortunate this is apparently the last time it’s taught.’ – Participant 1, Health 135, Spring 2023

Google translate version: ‘Course instructor Vanessa Fuller is excellent at her job! Grant writing 1 and 2 were both full of information and really provided heaps of learning for real life. Vanessa’s teaching style is very good, she gets the audience interested, focused and talking. She has a positive and encouraging attitude towards every student, and that’s why the audience dares to participate in the conversation, even if the level of the English language is not perfect. The lectures are a good immersion in the necessary academic vocabulary. Since she is a native speaker of the English language, it is really pleasant to listen to her speech. I will be very sad if Vanessa cannot continue to teach these courses. These teachings should be offered to every HY doctoral student in the future.‘ – Participant 2, Health 135, Spring 2023

‘Best teacher’ – Participant 3, Health 135, Spring 2023

I don’t know what’s next. But, at least I know I made some difference, helped some of these amazing young scholars achieve their own dreams. They’ve certainly allowed me to realise my own dreams, one’s I scarcely imagined possible.