#strangers | It Only Takes A Smile

Holiday Travels

20 Dec 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #adventure, #europe, #holiday, #holidaytravel, #kindness, #mindfulness, #strangers, #travel, blog, travel-tips

It’s that time of year, when people have accumulated vacation time to visit friends and family throughout the world. Highways are crowded, trains are booked, and flights are delayed. Generally it’s not my favorite time to travel, as the world is temporarily filled with chaos as people are trying to reach their destination.

I can’t help but observe fellow travellers around me. As I write this, I finished my second flight to Panama and awaiting my third to head to Colombia, for a week long cruise. The first flight was two hours late, from the tiny airport in SLO. I kept my cool, because my layover of four hours had space. But others didn’t. As we landed in Terminal 7 in LAX, some of us walked towards Bradley International terminal. The shuttle was closed temporarily for 30 minutes. We had the option of waiting or leaving the airport, walking 10-15 minutes, going back through TSA to head to our gates. One family was worried, they didn’t know if they would make it in time. Another man in his 60s decided to walk, I walked with him. As we walked we shared stories. “I have to make this flight to Tahiti, I haven’t spent Christmas with my family in 30 years.” He had travelled from Denver, a delayed flight, made it to another flight, and was determined to make this particular flight on Air France. He was meeting his family in Tahiti as his sister and her partner have been sailing the world for six months and the family decided why not meet in Tahiti. I said I was headed to Colombia. He reminisced while briskly walking. “I lived there for a month when I was 17, with two other expats. Someone let us rent their place for $8 for the whole month. “ He proceeded to share how he spent six months hitchhiking South America. What an adventurer. We parted ways, wished each other luck. I didn’t know his name, but I will remember his story.

As I made it to my gate, I sat and wait. There were 2 Copa Airlines headed to Panama within several minutes of each other. I asked the agent why, if it was overbooked. She said “we always have two flights.” I later learned Panama and Copa Airlines is the gateway to the rest of South America. I listened as people shared their final destination. One American man said he was headed to Brazil. The staff member asked for his visa, he didn’t know he needed one and panicked. Could he get one virtually? No, it would take five days. He wanted to still take the plane and just hang out in Panama, she wouldn’t allow it. I recall my aunt and husband went to Brazil for their wedding, not knowing they too needed visas, until being turned away at the airport. They headed to NYC for an emergency embassy visit and made the most of their honeymoon. Noted for future me, check for visas for Brazil.

I felt bad for this man, he probably organized everything for this trip. In my head, I hypothesized he paid for his parking, coordinated vacation days, paid for a pet sitter, hotels, excursions, and this ticket. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to go to Brazil and will be redirected to go on a journey somewhere else or have a staycation.

Holiday travels don’t always go as planned, and we need to leave space for this. It definitely is a time of stress. I noticed I craved Asian fast food and headed to Panda Express after running to my gate. A staff member ate Cheetos as she looked at her list of to dos. People scrolled on their phones to distract themselves from time spent waiting. Another passenger on the second flight to Panama came to my gate and requested to get on that flight. The other flight was delayed and he would miss his layover, could he switch? The gate agent said no and would not help him. I thanked the stars that my plane was not late and I could make my layover. But this could have been me too. Yet in the midst of this, I noticed two Nordic travellers having a beer, as I wolfed down my Chinese food. They appeared as they were in total chill mode, as if they were just having pints at a local bar. These two seemed to be enjoying the travel moment, something many of us were missing. During the holidays we all have the potential to be stressed. Give yourself some grace during this season, and also compassion to your fellow travellers and humans. You don’t know what they are going through. Notice the little things that make you smile, however ridiculous. At this café in Panama as I write this my Almond Cappaccino was $8, the same price as that fellow traveller’s month in Colombia. The duty free shop was filled with holiday carolers and Mr. and Mrs. Claus available for photo ops. One bathroom cleaner played Reggaeton as she cleaned the sinks. In another bathroom, a cleaner wore a holiday reindeer headband. Somehow they were making the most of the busy work day. Take in the joy where you can, and spread some if possible. Notice what’s going on around you, how other people are engaging with the day, observe the moment versus totally distracting yourself from the world. Find gratitude for what is working. We’re all just trying to make it to our next de

Frida Synchronicity

09 Dec 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #art, #frida, #fridakahlo, #kindness, #mexicocity, #strangers, #travel, frida-kahlo, mexico, mexico-city

During the Thanksgiving season, my family and I were in Mexico City. Every year we opt to use this as an opportunity to travel and connect, as it aligns with my mother’s birthday. It’s become an annual way to honor her, as we explore another city or country. This was the case for Mexico City and the Museo Frida Kahlo, or as many know it as Casa Azul.

Casa Azul, known to English speakers as the Blue House, is where Frida resided with Diego Rivera. It was where Frida created, recovered, and lived in inspiration. Because she did not always leave her home during periods of illness, she surrounded her residence with inspirational pieces from indigenous cultures of Mexico and throughout the world. We were uber prepared for this journey, as my mother had made us blinged out Frida denim jackets to wear for the week and ensured to get our tickets weeks in advance, aware that it sells out on a frequent basis. The day came for our journey to Coyoacan, the artsy borough where the museum exists, and we were early. We didn’t want to miss a moment of the day. As we stood in front of the museum, two hours before it opened, we begun to wonder how would we spend the day. We could wander the streets taking in the culture, and opted to walk towards a local market. A woman stopped us on the street, “Frida,” she said with a smile.

My mother and I both turned around. She asked me in Spanish, if we were going to Casa Azul, and I agreed. Luckily my Spanish is good enough to have basic conversations with the locals. She then asked if I was aware of Casa Roja? Another Frida museum several blocks away. This was the house Frida grew up in with her family. How had I not heard about this? I was a Frida fanatic, and thought I was aware of all things Frida in the area. But the museum opened two months prior and we didn’t need reservations for it. It was closed Monday and Tuesday, we were in luck, as it was Wednesday. She tried to recount images from her sister’s recent trip and the exact address, but informed me it was only two blocks down this direction, turn and walk two more blocks. I thanked her quickly for her Frida tip, and we proceeded to head towards the museum. To ensure I didn’t miss anything in translation, I looked it up on my phone and she was right. Four blocks away, we arrived at the museum in luck, an English tour was just beginning.

It was a day full of Frida, stepping into the rooms she lounged in, walking the path between the family home and her married home, observing her belongings, and impressed by her clothes. I had visited Casa Azul twenty years ago when doing a short study abroad program, but knew little about Frida. This time was different. She had emerged as an artist and strong female that has served as a guiding force in times of difficulty, and it was a pure pilgrimage. The final room had the urn that held her remains, which I missed initially and had to return to ensure I paid homage to her.

Several days later, we were in the Modern Art Museum in Mexico City. I stood for several minutes in front of the Two Fridas painting, reflecting on what lay in front of me. I overheard two Americans talking about Frida and her sister. They were talking about the horror of her sister Cristina having an affair with Diego. I made sure to correct them, as I had the same thought while at Casa Roja, but when I brought it up to the tour guide. She cautioned me that this was a solely a rumor that began with the film that was produced about her life. There was no proof. I ensured to pass this intel onto these American tourists, and gave them a tip of Museo Kahlo that had recently opened and would be a perfect addition to their trip. They were appreciative and said they would add it to their itinerary. It was after my trip was made to Coyoacan that I began getting notifications from friends and social media travel updates that this museum was opened, but I had the inside scoop from a local. Yet what made it more special, and serendipitous, was how we found out.

Sometimes it pays to wear loud clothing and talking to strangers. If we had not worn the Frida jackets and had a willingness to engage in my elementary Spanish with a stranger, we would have missed this golden opportunity to explore Museo Kahlo.

Walking Tour Connections

15 Sep 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #adventure, #costarica, #life, #strangers, #travel, #wanderlust, central-america, costa-rica, wildlife

“Nobody can discover the world for somebody else. Only when we discover it for ourselves does it become common ground and a common bond and we cease to be alone.” -Wendell Berry

Yesterday, I opted to end my 10 days in Costa Rica with a walking tour of San Jose. It’s an easy way to squeeze in history, exercise, and tourism in a short amount of time. There were six of us tourists, all solo travellers. The interesting thing when you travel solo is you are out of your comfort zone, no familiar friends or family to converse with, and you have the opportunity to have conversations with people around the world.

On the tour, my only fellow American spent the past week clowning around Costa Rica. She literally was clowning, through an organization run by the infamous Patch Adams. They spread smiles around the world through comedic performance. We were an international group from Ecuador, Colombia, Netherlands, and Scotland. One was brought here for work, another has moved here temporarily as a digital nomad, and most for pure pleasure.

The day unfolded without much plans, we walked the laid out path our guide had set for us. But then we inquired about the restaurant he recommended La Esquinita de la Abuela (Grandma’s corner), an awe inspiring place with a cheap menu and local cuisine, decorated as one’s grandmother’s home would be. Our guide stated “you know how minimalism is popular, but Central America is not that. Minimalism is boring, we are maximalists. And this is decorated with maximalism.” In the corner of the restaurant, where chicken soup was being served, was an homage to St. Martin de Porres with brooms next to him. Upon exploration of who this Saint was and why was he here, he was a mixed race friar from Peru. He’s the saint for social justice, racial harmony, and mixed race people. The broom served as a symbol that all work was sacred, regardless of how small the task. I felt that in this restaurant that served authentic Costa Rican cuisine in it’s kitchy plates and glasses. The love was offered to all who entered.

We listened to local stories our guide shared with us over lunch, such as who was author Jose Leon Sanchez. He allegedly stole La Negrita (the beloved Black Madonna) and condemned to jail for years, and upon release fleeing Costa Rica, and found fame in Mexico City. We heard about a tradition of people wearing folk masks in small towns, who look like pinata heads but the opposite occurs. Instead of this pinata like figure being hit, you are hit with a stick, “you know what you may happen if you are too close.”

It was as if some of us didn’t want it to end. We enjoyed wandering (flaneuring) the streets taking in the recommended restaurants, cafes, and markets. The 2 ½ hour tour extended to over 8 hours, as we shared our professions, travel history, political views of our countries, and dreams over coffee and shared desserts. We stumbled to one of the top 100 cafes in the world, and also one of the most beautiful in the local theater. Our guide told us, if we couldn’t make it to a show, we could get a peak of the theater while walking to the restroom.

As we walked the streets, I was reminded of the film Before Sunrise, without the romance, and instead of two main characters, there were four. Who knows if we will see each other again, I made sure to share our contacts. Life has a funny way of working out, “we may end up meeting in another country” I told a fellow traveller as I gave her a hug goodbye.

As we meet strangers, when we travel solo, we have the opportunity to pause and reflect on who we are in this moment, where we’ve come from, and where we opt to go. What are the stories you choose to share? Where are the destinations you hope to go? What type of life are you stepping into when you return home? Where is home, and will home change? All of this occurs within the backdrop of an unfamiliar country, which adds to the allure of the fleeting moment. I can’t help but notice the nomadic wanderluster arises in me at times like this. The 25 year old backpacker who visited 15 countries in one summer, and so many hopes before landing my first full time job. Do I forever want to wander? Will I ever find one home? At moments like this, I don’t just meet new friends, but meet that old version of myself who still longs for adventure, wonder, and feels ephemeral.

When’s the last time you’ve met that version of yourself?

Reciprocal Nourishment

27 Aug 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #kindness, #life, #strangers, #travel, #wanderlust

“Is this your first time at Esalen,” the gatekeeper asked, as I was checking in.

“No, it’s my fourth, but first time volunteering.” I responded.

The gatekeeper proceeded to describe property rules and protocol for my day at Esalen. I’ve attended three retreats at this Big Sur property in the past 15 months, nourishing my soul at times of change. I had the urge to return, but didn’t have the time to allot to a full retreat, therefore a day dose would have to suffice. Volunteers get nearly 12 hours to use the facility.

I kept this in mind as I left my home at 6am, but with traffic, and a stop to fill my car, I didn’t make it to Esalen until after 10:00. I put positive thoughts in the universe my desire for leftover breakfast and a spot to charge my car, and surprisingly both were available to me on arrival. I was lucky for scraps, as breakfast ended at 930. I needed food in my body, because my shift started when lunch would be served.

Retreats sell out at Esalen, and as I checked the website, so do volunteer slots. Available slots are posted two weeks early, and are quickly nabbed up. Everyone wants an opportunity to experience the land, the thermal baths, and the healing space Esalen has to offer. So I felt relieved when I landed a spot. I had hopes to share this with my partner, but he cancelled the week prior due to a conflict in schedule, and we broke up yesterday. So, here I was ready to volunteer solo on what I thought would be a joint venture.

My two hours of free time before check in included writing as I looked out the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean, laying in the gardens, and glancing at the available books in the bookstore. Time passed quickly, I moved my car, parked far away as requested and went to check in for my volunteer shift to begin.

“I want you to get lunch first, then start your shift for me.” My shoulders and nervous system relaxed. The volunteer attendant wanted to ensure I was nourished before I prepared food for others. What a beautiful thing. My body needed nourishment, after a break up, and long solo road trip.

My three hours in the kitchen served as a meditation, as I cut up zucchini with repetition. Everyone was in their zone of allotted tasks to do. Another staff member, asked how I was doing and if I needed water. She grabbed water for me in a large plastic container. Once again another stranger was nourishing me. Time passed as I swept the kitchen with a broom, peeled off stickers from plums, and washed these fruits for others. And just like that, my shift was over.

For the next 75 minutes I relaxed in the thermal baths, naked as everyone else was. We watched otters play in the water, one even shared her binocolars with the collective. Each time I go to the thermal baths, I cant help but think we stepped outside of Big Sur California and into ancient Greek times. Perhaps we are our own gods and goddesses who deserve a break from daily modern life.

This is my first time I volunteered at Esalen, and I know it won’t be my last. Perhaps in the future it may be more than cutting vegetables, perhaps a sound bath I will lead or a workshop. But for now this is good, I appreciate the mutual nourishment in what this place offers me. I have gratitude to the land, and the ancestors and protectors of the land the Esselen tribe. Thank you for holding me, nourishing me, and I hope in some way I can serve you.

I’m curious how there is reciprocal nourishment in your life? Whether that is through people, pets, or places?

Old Shoes

11 Apr 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #decluttering, #kindness, #lettinggo, #life, #strangers, fashion, footwear, shoes, writing

Walking on Sunset Boulevard in Silverlake with a group of friends on Saturday, a stranger approached me and said “you need new shoes.” I was surprised at her comment. We had just finished a delightful meal at a local Thai establishment, after sharing our updated goals for the year and ways we would be accountable to each other. I opted to wear a pair of white sandals that were made by Minnesota Moccasin company, that had turquoise embellishments. These were sandals I loved in theory but I wasn’t ready to let go of them. I wanted to “wear them to the ground,” to know I got the full use out of them.

“They are not fitting right on you. You need new shoes. I need new shoes too.” My friends looked at her with a sense of curiosity in their faces, as she walked by. All were wondering was she was trying to sell me shoes? This was Sunset Boulevard after all. As she strolled by us, another woman began stating out loud with her dog “We are on Sunset on a Saturday night.” Was she livestreaming on a social media site? Nope, she was just in the midst of a psychotic episode.

As we reflected on both of these two women juxtaposed to each other, we walked up a little hill. A helicopter circled around us. My friend opened up her neighbor app, which stated an armed individual was nearby. We didn’t know what to do, keep walking, try to hide? “Another night in Los Angeles,” one of my friends shared. Was this a regular night? A stranger telling you to get new shoes, a psychotic woman, a helicopter police chase, armed gunmen, and processing goals for one’s life with friends at a delicious restaurant. Perhaps it was a typical day. It was a mixture of wonder, appreciation, fear, confusion, and joy. This is life in today’s world, and it was playing out in our small atmosphere.

“You need new shoes.” Despite all that happened, this was the comment that stayed with me for the rest of the weekend. Perhaps this woman was right. Why was I holding onto old shoes trying to get the most use out of them? The fact was the more I used these particular shoes, the less I could use all the other shoes in my closet. I had more than enough shoes, I didn’t need new ones, I just needed to get rid of these. And so later in the week, I did just that. I not only got rid of this particular pair of shoes, but three other ones that were waiting to be given away. I did it with pleasure, as I offered up space for me to see what I actually own and take joy in using my other belongings.

This stranger’s comment served as a current lesson in my life. How often do we take wisdom from strangers or a passerby’s comments? There are textures to conversations, interpretations we can make from metaphorical statements. I wasn’t just getting rid of shoes, I was getting rid of that which I have overgrown and that which doesn’t serve me. I was creating space in my life to welcome in the beauty that already exists.

The Time Changed

10 Mar 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #family, #life, #love, #strangers, #time, #travel, esalen, fiction, Retreat, writing

I woke up this morning having a dream that my mother and I had an argument about time. I felt she was wasting it, being slow in her movements, when we had a long road trip to get to. She is retired and luxuriates in time, I felt I didn’t have enough of it. In the dream, I wanted to rush her to and make the most of it.

This dream made sense at this particular moment, it was the evening the clocks sprung forward.

I woke up earlier than my roommates and was not clear of time. We were at a retreat center with limited cell service and wifi in the cabins. It was completely dark outside, I looked at my phone and wondered was it really 545 am? Would my cell phone change without service? Could I trust time, feeling as if I didn’t have enough?

But the truth is (at least for me on retreats) time stretches and expands while one is away from her everyday demands. And so what is time?

Time’s been on my mind, as I have clients in other countries at the moment, where the time does not change. The past week trying to coordinate schedules blew my mind, what time tomorrow would it be for them when we spoke today for me? As I reflect on time, I want a different job so I can have more time off, because as a full time salaried employee someone controls the amount of time I can use leisurely and who determines how my sick time shall be used, even if I want to focus more on wellness. I long for time abundance rather than time scarcity.

I woke up with a sore throat and thought to make better use of my morning. Instead of worrying about time, I would do something with it.

I opted to walk to the lounge area and have some tea, another retreat attendee noted how early I was up, and he was the same. He continued to compare this time, to time back home. Another woman asked for the time, and a man stated the time was near sunset. He didn’t know because he had pre-coffee brain. Time was on all of our minds.

At the moment, I could luxuriate in it. And I did

Initially as I walked towards the baths at 6ish I saw tiny paw prints on the staircase. I wasn’t sure what animal may be joining me in the open baths, would it just be me and a racoon? A human couple left the baths, I saw no racoons, and felt at ease as I slid into the thermal baths. At Esalen, the baths are clothing optional. In the darkness of the early day or evening, I do not mind being nude alone in the healing waters, listening to the ocean hit the rocks below. And here time felt expansive.

I sit in front of a tree overlooking a mountain, facing the direction of where the sun will be rising from, having a warm cup of coffee before yoga class begins. At another point of my busy life, I may say that I beat time. I was so productive before the sun said hello. But time is not a thing to be beat. It’s something to be in partnership with, flow with.

There’s a patter on the roof, I witness two racoons scoping out the landscape during their last moments of nocturnal activities. Slowly they creep and disappear into the tree that I am observing. Perhaps these were the racoons whose footprints I observed in the baths. Perhaps we are on the same schedule. They do not adhere to clocks and watches, but the movement of the sun and moon. Yet, here we are together making the most of the time we have today.

We are the same

05 Feb 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #80s, #cartoons, #strangers, #strawberryshortcake, #travel

The other day as I sat for breakfast at my Okinawan hotel, I opted to wear my Strawberry Shortcake sweater. One of the staff members freaked out. She loved Strawberry Shortcake, remembering from her childhood. She spent half of it in Okinawa and half in America (specifically North Carolina), she recalled other favorite cartoons from that era: My Little Pony and Care Bears. I asked how old she was, she didn’t want to say, but admitted to be 46. “I am 45, we are the same.” I further went on to try to connect with other beloved animated characters from that era, which included He-man and his sister She-ra, and Jem.

What was interesting is I had just recently bought this sweater prior to coming to Japan. She showed me her water bottle, also Strawberry Shortcake, and an I phone case she made with the same image. She admitted as she got older, and her children aged, this was her time to embrace what she loved in her youth. It was interesting, because earlier in the week, I just purchased a Hello Kitty keychain and was debating to go into town to get a Hello Kitty hat and a Monchhichi purse, both paraphernalia for us 80s kids. But now I had validation, it was totally ok to get this. A kindred spirit was doing the same thing on the other side of the world. She deeply connected with Strawberry Shortcake, as it was not easily found in stores in Japan and was special to her experience. She had to search this out. Although Hello Kitty was universal, Monchhichi wasn’t. I was doing the same thing in Okinawa.

I opted to share with her the California Strawberry Festival which occurs annually near my current residence. The irony is one of her co-workers had a similar growing up experience. He was born in Okinawa, but moved to California when his mother remarried. He lived in nearby town to me for 15 years. I told her that her colleague was from the same area, and I showed her pictures of the strawberry attire people wore, the strawberry desserts that were served, and the cute crocheted Strawberry hat I bought. She immediately wrote it down to research later, and vowed she would go one day. I have no doubt in my mind that one day she will pilgrimage to this festival wearing Strawberry Shortcake attire. Travelling reminds us of diversity, but it also reminds us of the similarities we hold. And this week was evidence of that.

Denim Creativity

18 Dec 2024 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #creativity, #kindness, #santafe, #strangers, #travel, #wanderlust

“A creative life is an amplified life. It’s a bigger life, a happier life, an expanded life, and a hell of a lot more interesting life. Living in this manner—continually and stubbornly bringing forth the jewels that are hidden within you—is a fine art, in and of itself.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

Sometimes we seek out creativity without knowing what to expect. This was the case several weekends ago in Santa Fe, where my mom, friend, and I went to a free Denim painting workshop put on by the Site Santa Fe Museum (also free to visit) and 4Kinship, an indigenous owned clothing store in town. We didn’t know what we were in for, as I thought when we signed up that this would be a class to teach us how to paint indigenous designs. Instead the class offered permission and paint to design whatever your heart called for. The theme was joy.

But for before the class began the owner of 4Kinship shared a story of how she had partnered with an organization to build a skatepark on an indigenous reservation. On the inaugural day of the skate park opening, legend Tony Hawk was invited and came to skate in conjunction with all of the other skaters. The owner of 4Kinship recruited an individual Shawn, who had been skating for years, to serve as a mentor 2-3 times a week to teach and lead skating lessons. He offered through mentorship and skating, alternative ways of being and living could be discovered to indigenous youth. Another indigenous creative was there who created a bespoke skateboard company (he also happened to be half Filipino). As this story was told, the owner began to tear up, which made me want to cry out of the beauty of collaboration and commitment to community.

And here we were in a free denim workshop. She gave us permission in that moment to create for the sake of it. As we did, there was initial hesitation and trepidation, what if we paint something and it’s wrong? There’s no erasing…. But we began to follow our intuitive hits. My friend Crystal, had images of faded checkered lines on the back of her denim coat, and was advised a way to seek out those results. My mom free styled a Desigual-esque vibe, as I tried to mimic the essence of examples that were hung of denim with indigenous patterns. Beats played in the background, we all got in the zone, chatted, and painted. It didn’t matter what the results were, we temporarily were all being creative collectively. And there was such beauty in this…

Being in Santa Fe, at this workshop, then strolling down Canyon Drive with dozens of galleries, gave permission to step into my own creativity once again. It’s easy to get caught up in the everyday drama of life, focusing on the daily busy-ness of work and to dos. But to let your mind wander, let the paintbrush move on a canvas, there was freedom there. As someone who is a creativity coach, I am used to talking to people 1:1 about their creativity, but there is a sacredness in doing this in a group. Separate and connected.

Unexpected Lessons

24 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #strangers

Earlier this week, I gave a talk to a crowd of over 60 people on mental toughness. As I prepared for this presentation, I relished in it. I love talking about the power of the mind, leading people through visualization, meditation, and talking about daily discipline. These are the types of books I have read, podcasts I listen to, or presentations that I pay to attend. I’ve had the pleasure over the years to walk on fire with Tony Robbins or hear the eloquent words of the late Louise Hay say “How you start your day, is how you live your day, and how you live your day is how you live your life.” I’ve led retreats on exactly these topics and get fired up talking about it and love sharing it.

And yet when I did the presentation, the audience was lackluster. There was minimal engagement as I walked through the crowd, and tried to get them to interact with me and what we were discussing. It was a forced workshop for this group. They were not there due to choice but requirement. Although there was applause at the end, I didn’t know if this was part of the forced expectations in this type of environment. As I briefed my colleagues in the office afterwards in regards to how this went, I was quite disappointed with the results. I let that talk go and move forward with the next tasks at hand.

Something surprised me later in the week. I unexpectedly had to meet individually with some of the people that were in the crowd for other work related reasons. As I met with them, they brought up what I had discussed in my presentation. People in the audience who showed no emotion and boredom when I talked, were actually listening and taking it in. One brought up manifestation or another himself being mentally tough but having difficulty with his spouse who is overly sensitive. One resonated with the importance of reflecting on how to make changes in his choices they made throughout the day.

This experience in some ways humbled me. I have talked to large crowds the size of 600-800 people, who were engaged and buzzing during my presentation and gave workshops frequently to USAF Special Operations. I’ve sat in audiences with some of the worlds top speakers and felt through osmosis I could get these people I was talking to excited to change their lives. But I observed minimal response. Admittedly my ego was a bit bruised, was it how I delivered the material? Was I not powerful enough? Succinct or engaging? Was this material not relatable to their everyday lives?

But it was only through small whispers did I later realize they were listening. I didn’t get the automatic crowd response I had hoped for but heard the impact in private conversations days later. And this is enough. This is the work. Not the acclaim but the tiny quiet ripple effect.

What I began to realize is perhaps the lesson in all of this is not wisdom I shared to this group this week, but not to make assumptions on the impact we have on others. Just because the initial response doesn’t look like a favorable result, there may be residual impact that lingers and emerges at a later point. We may never know the impact we have on others. I was lucky to hear comments from several people later in the week, but if I never did I would have perceived that presentation was a flop. But it did land on them. They did hear the essence of the talk.

It reminds me that whatever way that we are looking to serve the world, we may not receive accolades for the work we do. But we do make a difference. Nobody may thank us or let us know, but we impact each other. How we offer to positively shifts the world has a resonance, and don’t give up because you don’t think anyone is listening. They are, in more ways than you know. There may not be thunderous applause, but there may be shifts made.

Cruise Life and Characters

18 Nov 2024 Leave a comment

by Dr. Tricia Wolanin in Uncategorized Tags: #archetypes, #kindness, #strangers, #travel, #wanderlust, cruise, cruises, cruising, royal-caribbean

I had taken my first and only cruise with my family over 20 years ago, and had never stepped foot on one again until this past week. The reasons have changed, I wasn’t opting for solely relaxation, family reunion, and a getaway during the autumnal months. I was looking for ways to gain access to the Travel Century Club. The reason one joins is for bragging rights to claim that you have been to at least 100 territories in the world. On this one, I would add three more to the list: Puerto Rico, St. Kitts & Nevis, Sint Maarten (the Dutch side)/Saint Martin (the French side), Barbados. This was in addition to the US Virgin Islands, to which I had already been to (St. Thomas and St. Croix). This would put me at 80, and so on a cruise we go….

Cruises seem to be made for loving gatherings of large groups of friends and families exploring the world together without having to worry about cooking, cleaning, or driving. Entertainment and activities are provided, and all that is required of you is to get back onto the ship before departure time each day. On the first day, there was a massive balloon drop, which my friend and I managed to find ourselves in the front row of the dance floor. The band played Celebration by Kool and The Gang, as we counted down for the balloon drop. The crowd screamed as we tapped the balloons to others as they fell from the ceiling slowly, then picked them off the ground to keep them from popping and kept volleyballing them to others on the dance floor. My friend and I realized we were the only adults laughing with joy as we did this. The only other people doing the same thing were children, but we didn’t care. This was wonder in action.

Since my previous cruise departed from Florida, I had a bias that a majority of my fellow cruisers would be from middle America. Surprisingly this was not the case. We left from San Juan Puerto Rico, and nearly 75% of the guests were Puerto Rican. At our evening dining table, we were the only ones not from Puerto Rico. It truly felt we were part of the Caribbean. Dance and lip sync competitions had numerous participants that hailed from Puerto Rico, as the crowd cheered. Fellow mainlanders realized they were in the minority. A middle aged white man named Kirk even tried to claim he was from Puerto Rico to gain the audience’s love and votes as he competed doing pelvic thrusts and hip sways to Shakira, Ricky Martin, and the song Gasolina. The audience and host knew the truth, saying “alright Kirk from Puerto Rico” but laughed and clapped along anyways to the ridiculous over the top court jester archetype.

As we met other guests on this ship, there were people that were regulars in the cruise life. Whether they remained loyal with the same company and earned points or shopped around dependent on the regions explored. At some point, I realized we are all reflections of each other. Two older women sat next to us, whose husbands who opted for the buffet. They solely spoke French, and I listened in and internally translated bits of their conversation. Two other older Midwestern friends sat next to us, who resided in Ohio (my home state). One lady was British, and when I shared the towns, I lived in the UK (Cambridge, Epping, and Bury St. Edmunds), we were both shocked as she revealed her father was born in Bury St. Edmunds. We all exchanged names, and when I shared my name Tricia, the other woman noted she would remember this as her sister’s name was Patricia. Patricia Ann specifically (my name is Tricia Ann), who died at the age of 44 (I am 45). She teared up as she talked about her, and for a moment I thought how she may have needed me to serve as a mirror to her sister for a momentary reflection.

Staff members we engaged with hailed from India, Indonesia, Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Philippines, and numerous other locations. A flag dance party the last night of the cruise claimed 57 countries where staff on that specific ship resided from. One waiter asked if my friend and I (both of Asian descent) if we were married to Americans, wondering how we gained citizenship. We informed him that we were born in America. This exchange served as a reminder to be grateful for my family members that made sacrifices to come to America, the land of opportunity. I am not sure the exact amount staff are paid on cruise ships, but many waitstaff particularly come from low income or third world countries. These hardworking individuals work for at least 7 months a year, with minimal days off, in hopes of financially moving ahead in their lives. Some may enjoy the lifestyle, as I met one waiter from the Philippines who has worked for this same company for 20 years. The cruise life now is his home, and his homeland is a vacation. I overheard another staff member from India saying he was retiring after 30 years of working on these cruises. “Who will you work for now?” a guest asked him. “My wife,” he said with a smile, he was looking forward to spending time with her and his adult children.

There is poignancy in small moments. One of the nights, the waitstaff walked around the restaurant, as the guests clapped for their waiters and twirled their white cloth napkins in the air as a form of gratitude and appreciation to those who served them. We joined together in a large dance of the macarena. One port held 5 cruises on St. Martin, this meant 25,000 of us went ontp the island on that one day. As one cruise ship left, phone flashlights shone waving goodbye from both ships, as crowds do at concerts. Waving farewell to strangers via phones, or when we passed them on land, reminded me of the universal urge of wanting to connect.

And one begins to realize that we are mirrors for each other. We may not be as different as we expected. The characters we observed in our fellow cruise ship passengers were all archetypes, each who exhibit aspects of us. The court jester who hammed it up for the crowds in dance competitions, the lovers celebrating anniversaries or honeymoons, the bereft who still had residual grief , the royal court who complained about everything, the sick who needed to slow down their pace even on the cruise ship due to recent surgeries, the artists that performed each night, the salesmen who lured you to their stores with raffle prize wins and deals on art auctions or jewelry, the martyrs and wounded healers as staff who sacrificed so much as they served us to make money for people back home, the anxious ones who worried about this ship’s reliability as we swayed and rocked the waves on the boat, the gamblers who vowed to win more in the casinos, and the explorers who longed to step onto new lands, We have a desire to live for something more. We are here to celebrate, to cry, laugh, dance, and connect. For a brief period we were all unplugged from the everyday devices and linked with those around via conversation, laughter, song, travel, presence, and appreciation for one another. I’ve met so many types of characters on this ship, even some characters within myself that have been dormant.

Who may you meet?

It Only Takes A Smile