Sunset on the Isle of Skye, by keepwaddling1

Sometimes your world turns upside down in an instant, and your life is never the same again. These events might be as traumatic as the death of a loved one, or as deceptively simple as seeing a beautiful sight for the first time. We asked people to send us details about an event that acted as a catalyst for change in their lives.

Many thanks to everyone who submitted something. It was really difficult to narrow down, but here are ten of the best.

1. Escaping domestic violence and stalking

By Alexis A Moore, founder and president of Survivors in Action

In 2004 I fled a violent and abusive relationship. My abusive partner’s job involved locating people and assets, and because of this, the women’s shelter I ran to refused to take me. Despite being bloody and bruised, they gave me no help at all, and threw me out onto the streets like garbage. I had to take matters into my own hands, and went into hiding.

Over the next two years I was continually stalked and threatened by my abuser, but I couldn’t find anyone to help. Lawyers would claim to be worried about their own safety (often after taking my money), and the cops refused to take domestic violence, stalking and cyber-stalking seriously as crimes.

I sent out literally thousands of letters to different agencies, explaining my situation and asking for help. All were ignored. Finally, in 2006, one agency responded. They were supportive, though unable to help, but that response was enough to give me hope and turn my life around.

La Sagrada Familia, by Wolfgang Staudt

I started volunteering for them, doing fundraising and victim support. In 2007 I founded Survivors in Action, to advocate for victims of domestic violence. A large part of our mission is to hold domestic violence resources accountable to victims.

Enduring the hell of being abused and stalked has in some ways been a great gift. It has made me a stronger, wiser woman, and has given me a new lease on life and the opportunity to help others.

2. La Sagrada Familia and life are a work in progress

By Norbert Figueroa

The first time I stepped outside my American comfort zone was a trip to Spain, and visiting La Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona was a real eye-opening experience.

I was really moved by the building’s grandiose stature, and how the light penetrates the unfinished walls and ceilings. By how the space and character keep changing day by day, piece by piece; by how thousands of people are literally visiting a construction site.

Looking at this work in progress opened my eyes to something new, strange, and bigger than I could imagine. For me, La Sagrada Familia is like a modern ruin. We visit ancient ruins and marvel at all the history that took place there. But this is the inverse, a space ripe with potential that encourages you to participate in its ongoing construction, to wonder not just about its past and ever-changing present, but also about its possible future outcomes.

La Sagrada Familia showed me the beauty of the strange and the unknown. It’s like a metaphor for life, and made me want to build something myself out of places and experiences like this one. It awakened a sense of wonder in me about the meanings and possibilities of life, and turned me into the traveler I am today.

Narragansett Bay, by jodiiiii

3. Finding hope in the ebb and flow of life

By Cristina Dimen

I stood on the deck and gazed into the bay, waiting. Waiting for the comfort that always fills my heart when I watch the waters ebb and flow along the shoreline of Narragansett Bay, when I listen to the gulls squawk, when I see wind-filled sails burst forward or spot pebbles on the beach awash with foam. But the view was amiss, and all I could feel was stillness, as if time had stopped.

Inside the yellow house behind me, my father-in-law lay attached to a respirator. His still frame was void of the quiet strength that was his nature, and although open, his eyes no longer saw the family and friends gathered around him. But we knew our voices could still be heard. We held his hands. With tears flowing freely, we let him know he wasn’t alone. With his loved ones at his side, he succumbed to cancer and left us that night.

Today, a splash of yellow-orange tints the morning sky. Gulls glide in from afar, and the bay waters embrace the shore. Life’s rhythmic scene is beautiful, yet different. As the live painting unfolds before me, my grief has company – hope. I remember Dad’s appreciation for life, and his love for this scenery. It gives me hope that I, too, will value the ebb and flow of life. I’m learning to look up from my laptop, to really enjoy this journey with loved ones.

Keep reading to hear about a supernatural encounter on the Isle of Skye!

Photo by NatalieMaynor

So you’re thinking of joining a CSA?

Or maybe you’re just scratching your head right now, wondering: “A CSA? What’s that?” The answer, community-supported agriculture, is an arrangement in which customers pay up front for a share in a local farmer’s harvest, which is then distributed over the growing season.

The farms are generally smaller ones, often using organic or sustainable growing practices. Personally, because they’re a motivating factor in my cooking, I can’t get enough of CSAs and belong to–count ‘em–five: veggies, fruits, eggs, frozen produce in winter, and a “quarter hog” share.

How it works

The farmer sends whatever is ready and ripe, perhaps picked that morning, so you have little to no control over what you get (though a few CSAs now work on more of a “market” model). A meat share includes a variety of cuts, sometimes with specialty items such as charcuterie. Some areas even offer seafood shares.

Some CSAs deliver a box to your door, while others use a central pick-up point; ours drops at a neighborhood church and displays the produce to be collected via an honor system. The simplest, most direct arrangement might be if you live in a rural area and fetch your share from the farm. The farmer organizes the details, whereas in urban programs a volunteer team usually handles logistics and distribution.

What are the benefits?

Photo by Darius

You support local farmers by investing in a portion of the crop in advance and guaranteeing them a customer base.

In return, you receive a basket of sparkling produce, fresher than what’s offered in most stores. You probably end up eating more veggies, too. The connection between farmer and consumer becomes closer, and you get to know the person growing your food. This is a great lesson if you have kids.

We receive a regular newsletter from our farmers, including recipe suggestions and invitations to visit the farms. At the season’s end, members may be encouraged to provide feedback: helping to shape, over the long term, what will be grown.

And there’s the matter of savings: by essentially buying in bulk, you save over buying comparable quality produce at the farmers’ market.

What do I have to lose?

The lack of choice may be a deal-breaker if you like your options (or, say, detest zucchini). And, since you reap the harvest along with the farmer, you also assume the risks. Last summer, for example, our region was hit with late blight, which all but wiped out tomato crops in the northeast. As a result, the usual plump, sweet tomatoes were no-shows. Loyal customers who had pre-paid for an extra “pantry share” of tomatoes opted to forfeit the money in solidarity with the farmer, instead of getting reimbursed.

How do I find my local CSA?

Many urban areas these days have food advocacy networks. In NYC it’s Just Food, which organizes neighborhood CSAs and links to local food happenings. The nationwide network Local Harvest allows you to search by zip code for farms across the U.S. offering shares, and includes farm profiles. If you’re in a rural area, try asking at your favorite local farmer’s market booth, either at the farm or at the neighborhood farmers’ market. More and more small farms offer a CSA in addition to selling produce through a stand.

Curious, but on the fence?

Arrange a trial by finding someone who is already in the network and offering to buy back a week’s worth of produce while he or she is on vacation. If you don’t know anyone with a share, contact the coordinator and ask if it would be OK to put the word out to CSA members: many of them, over the course of the season, will at some point be unable to use their shares and would be grateful for someone else to pick up the slack.

Photo by nedrichards

You can also send out a message mid-season offering to split a share, which might be a welcome prospect to someone who has discovered it’s not so easy to keep up with the rising tide of veggies in August!

They’re sold out!

This is a common complaint in urban communities like mine in Brooklyn, NY. People are keen on the whole idea of eating seasonally and locally, but supply hasn’t yet caught up with demand. Be tenacious and stay in contact with the CSA coordinator. Persistence pays off, as it did this year for two of my friends who had been trying to get in on the action for years.

Also, you may score a share from a CSA dropout, as did a friend of mine who is now a die-hard fan (she received word of mouth that someone was trying to unload her share).

I signed up! Now what?

Now get cooking! It took me a couple of seasons to hit my CSA stride; now I know what to expect and detail my kitchen time in a seasonal cooking blog. In planning my recipes, I do a triage of each weekly delivery: what needs to be used right away (lettuce)? What can be stored (roots), or dried (herbs)? Try your hand at pickling and canning, to preserve the overflow.

The internet contains a wealth of ideas. Some sites with impressive catalogs of recipes include: Epicurious, food52, Cook’s Country and the Food Network, all of which offer ingredient-based searches.

Some cookbooks I find useful:

• Mark Bittman, How to Cook Everything and How to Cook Everything Vegetarian
• Eugenia Bone, Well-Preserved
• Elizabeth Schneider, Vegetables From Amaranth to Zucchini
• Alice Waters, Chez Panisse Fruit and Chez Panisse Vegetables

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

Are you a member of a local CSA? Please share your experiences in the comments below. Feel free to share links to your favorite recipe websites too!

Photo by ftzdomino

A recent survey conducted for a sales management training company titled Sandler Training discovered that public attitudes toward salespeople in the United States are pretty grim. So grim that the only thing worse than making cold calls to strangers is getting a root canal.

In fact, people would rather give up sex for a month than call strangers to pitch sales for one week. Either the 1,226 respondents have really boring sex lives, or being a salesperson is definitely the worst job in the world.

The options seem a little uneven, though. Comparing surgery, sex, and sales? Sex is the only pleasurable experience, and the least humiliating (most of the time). But all surveys have their quirks: consider the “Top-secret Librarian Sex Survey” of 1992, which caused the surveyor, Will Manley, to lose his job. Some of the questions asked librarians to identify their first sexual experience with a Shakespeare title (the most popular answer was A Comedy of Errors). Then again, it does get people talking.

I’m not sure what kind of enlightenment we’re supposed to achieve from these surveys, or what kind of insights we should gain about humanity. But I’m pretty sure a Bathroom Habits Survey won’t reveal the true meaning of the actions behind someone who drops four squares of toilet paper into the toilet before using it to prevent splash-back. Some of us need confirmation that we’re not weirdos, perhaps?

Regardless, we’re dying to know: what would you prefer doing instead of cold calls?

Community Connection

Inspired by the famous PostSecret project, we invited Matadorians to share a little part of their private lives. The weird things you do when you’re alone in the house, the regrets you’ve been harboring for years, the secret resentment towards your loved ones, even the silly pleasures of your day. Anything goes.

Surprisingly, we received just a few secrets. Everybody loved the idea, but when it came to baring all, it seems there was some reluctance. What’s holding us back? Why has it become so taboo to share our feelings?

Viewing those short, intimate insights into someone’s world makes us all feel a human connection. Maybe you can let out a sigh of relief and say, “Thank God I’m not the only one.”

1. Loneliness isn’t an easy thing to admit, I’m glad you did.

2. Take the enrichment from that experience to right your wrongs. A guilty conscience is a good thing.

3. It took me awhile to comprehend the significance of a five year old writing a suicide note. I hope you find happiness, I think you will.

Community Connection

Didn’t get a chance to submit? There’s still time! Simply follow the directions in our Call For Submissions, and we’ll share your secret. It’s completely anonymous, I promise.

Photo by Anne Merritt

Nick’s mum came to visit two weeks ago and brought Vermont maple syrup in her luggage. Since then, we’ve been giddy and liberal with the stuff; pancakes, fruit parfaits, and a big batch of our collaborative granola. Usually, we’re on different ends of the cooking spectrum. He makes healthy, hearty dishes, curries and soups. I make the unnecessary stuff, the pies and cookies and buttery comfort foods. But we come together to make granola, and I do believe our maple nut recipe is perfection.

After a week of granola gorging, our huge batch shrank down to some crumbs in a jar. Today we passed it back and forth between us, eating handfuls, wiping crumbs on our jeans, happily planning the next recipe. Cashews instead of hazelnuts? Raisins this time? It’s an amazing recipe, but there’s always room for change. I love that.

Want to try it for yourself? Here’s the recipe!

3 cups rolled oats
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup sliced hazelnuts
3/4 cup wheat germ
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup sesame seeds
1/3 cup brown sugar

Combine all of the above in a large bowl.

1/2 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 tsp salt

Combine the above, then pour onto the dry mix. Pour the mix onto a cookie sheet and bake for 1 hour at 250 F, stirring every 15 minutes.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

You can see more of Anne’s writing and photography and hear about her travels on her personal profile in the Matador Travel community. And if you’d like to submit a photo of your own, take a look at submission guidelines.

I consider myself a traveler. A risk-taker. A bold and experienced adventurer.

Then I remember that it’s been a while since I’ve actually “traveled.” I feel the prickles of insecurity. Am I still a traveler? Could I still hike the Colorado Trail solo? Do I want to? Am I still the same person that organized her 6-month trip on the Appalachian Trail and pulled it off without a hitch and with tons of great experiences, stories and new friends? Am I more worried about health insurance, retirement accounts and the what-ifs now?

Photo by tseoeo

Or worse, have I spent the last several years pining away, living in the “glory” days of these past trips? What have I been doing since then?

Lots.

The act of traveling is an expression of the traveler’s being.

Not everyone travels, and many folks are not okay with the hassles and discomforts of what it takes to move about the earth outside of the work and home routine. Those that are inclined to travel have to. They need to see new things and grow in ways not accessible via the homebound route.

The in-between times — the seasons of commitments in one place – can mess with a traveler’s identity. They will say,”I know how to live out of a backpack in Kathmandu, but I am struggling with saying the right things in this graduate seminar.”

Or, “Hitching a ride to town from the trail feels normal, but riding in my family’s SUV feels like a crime.” The real wilderness is often the world of mortgages, vehicles and 9-5 jobs.

When we’re grounded for an extended time, we have the opportunity to take our traveling soul and apply it to other parts of our lives.

We take classes that nurture our interests, spend time with people that “get” us, continue to live simply, and research the next adventure. We can still feed the wanderlust. We are still “that” person.

After I completed my ‘98 Appalachian Trail thru-hike, I felt like I had to go home, but the desire to travel was still present. I spent a year and a half working in Boulder, then took an opportunity to volunteer with the Forest Service in Alaska for a summer. I  headed east to hike the southern half of the Long Trail in Vermont, then returned home for a solo hike on the Colorado Trail.

Soon after that I moved to Ridgway, CO and applied to graduate school in librarianship. I wanted to focus on a career that would continue to evolve, challenge my technical skills and satiate my desire to always be learning.

It was the right choice for me. But it meant settling down for a while. As a consolation, I chose a school within a few hours’ drive of the Appalachian Trail. If I couldn’t be on the trail, I’d be near it.

View from the Appalachian Trail, by Nicholas T

Keep the wanderlust going.

During these post-Appalachian Trail years, I’ve kept the creative traveling interests simmering in various ways:  a month-long trek in Nepal, several winter hut trips in Colorado, a two week east coast train excursion, and several road trips. I’ve taken classes, simplified my life in ways most people would consider extreme (no car, no fridge…but I still live in a condo), and started a craft business. But instead of being grounded and lured to live  a “normal” life, these things have just temporarily distracted me from what I really want to do: travel.

I believe I’ve just been recharging my batteries for the next phase by being wise with my money, increasing my social media skills and clarifying my plans.

The in-between season has been fine, but it’s time to go to the edge again.

Community Connection

Before you head back out there, learn how to break the news to your loved ones.