Substance and Accumulation

This is the first time in a week that I’ve sat down at a computer, so you can know I’m not exaggerating when I say the past week has been quite busy. Actually, the past week has been tremendously busy, more than any week I can remember, but more than that… the past few days have held for us all sorts of surprises.
The surprises have been wonderful, to speak of their magnitude somewhat lightly—so I have to share.


1) Our boys started school here in Prague, which, for any expat parents of young students, can always be a bit worrisome. But, even our oldest loved school, and made new friends on the first day.


2) Our sea container of household goods arrived at our home. Yay! No more sleeping, sitting, and eating on floors—we received our beloved soft furniture four weeks early!


3) Our long term visas were completed. Yippee-kye-yay! The documents we needed to do many essential things here in Czech Republic were finished nine weeks ahead of the date we had previously been given.


4) We found a family vehicle with several features of importance, especially safety, roominess, and within our cost guidelines (which is a huge deal in a country where the average cost of cars is two to three times higher than in the States).

Whew! Yes, this week has been a gift.

In Europe, most things are much smaller than what we are accustomed to in the States—not only the size of the country, but the size of the streets, and cars, and houses, and trash cans, and sinks, and closets (if even there), and refrigerators. Only the pilsner beers and rosebushes seem to be larger. So in our planning to move into a smaller house here in Prague from our modest-sized house of ten years in the Midwest, we gave many things away to people who needed them. It proved to be a good strategy. But I can say from the past five days of gritty work in settling our household goods, we didn’t give away enough.

According to the contract with the movers, after they brought our boxes in from the sea container, they were to empty the boxes for us and then haul the cardboard and paper away. In theory, that sounded wonderful. But when it came down to it, a couple of our rooms, we couldn’t even enter because of the sheer amount of things on the floor—books, pens, papers, socks, shoes—everything just kind of dumped onto the floor.

Yes, the past five days have been overwhelming, to say the least, but I’ve learned a bit about myself and my needs in the process.

Some things, to me, are like water—things I can’t live without: books, photographs, basic clothes, soft chairs, and more books. But, the past few days of trying to make sense of clutter and chaos has left me with a new feeling: accumulation is the enemy of peace and creativity. The more stuff we collect and drag around with us the less energy and time and love we have for the things that really matter and mean something to us.

Our lives are so much richer without the stuff.

As I wrap up the remaining five percent left of work I have in settling our house, I look forward to getting into a new writing routine, and constantly learning new ways to free myself up to a fuller life composed less of stuff and more of substance.

Life is too short to spend dealing with stuff, and too full of the riches of experience to waste. Enjoy today!

A Prague Photo Journal

Words cannot begin to describe the beauty we've discovered in the Czech Republic thus far, so I am dedicating this week's blog to a true view through my lens-- a photo journal of our time living in Europe thus far. The images can speak for themselves ... Enjoy!

Prague, Czech Republic: the Prague Castle

The infamous Astronomical Clock, and other sites around the Old Town Square


Crossing the Vltava River on the Charles Bridge:



Not too far from Prague, the Krivoklat Castle:

Berlin, Germany: the Brandenberg Gate, the Berlin Wall, and the Holocaust Memorial

History has countless stories to tell ... More photos to come. Enjoy the waning days of summer! -JK

Finding Something New

Last month, our family left our home of ten years in Ohio for Central Europe, where we will make our home for the next few years. Each of us, including my husband and our three school-aged sons, has gone through a different process of leaving, and we all have had areas of our lives where leaving has almost taken a crowbar to pry us away. We all had our own pieces of comfort and familiarity that were particularly tough to leave behind.

The hard part of leaving is a very personal process, I think. For when we need to move on and have to leave something behind, we leave a part of ourselves as well. It’s easy to focus on the things we leave behind, the pieces torn from our lives by the wake of change. Far harder, I think, is opening the mind to the new possibilities ushered in by change and catching fleeting serendipity as it flutters by.

We are now in our new environment, and daily we are finding many delights and great surprises that far surpass what we thought we would find—new friends, flowers, foods, culture, and the accessibility of family via the internet. Two small examples: even though we left behind beautiful gardens, the floral beauties in Prague are lush and cascade from countless windowboxes and gardens on every street. And even though we left behind a small aquarium where some of our sons’ favorite creatures were the snails (that tragically never stayed alive long), our boys have discovered countless snails in our yard at our new house in Prague. I’m convinced that never before have snails been so loved like pets, despite the familiar saying for “snails and puppy dog tails, that’s what little boys are made of.” Yes, the new has us thrilled in ways we couldn’t have imagined—and certainly the discovery will continue. We are grateful. Perhaps new shouldn’t feel so scary.
When we leave something behind, yes, we do leave a piece of ourselves in the process, but I now believe we also gain something more as well. For in the process of moving forward into the unknown, we find a place where we are stretched and can more fully connect with the essence of who we are and that which we are truly made. Perhaps only in the unknown can we discover possibilities far wider than what we previously imagined; only in the new place can we really find a larger part of ourselves.

Departure and Arrival

Not more than three months ago, our family decided to seize the day, take the large risk, and embark on a great new opportunity called moving to Prague, for an expat assignment there with my husband’s job. Weeks of careful planning and work, by our family and with professional assistance, has gone into the process. Moving across the ocean has involved selling our former home and cars, moving our essentials by sea shipment, and storing things that needed to remain in the States (like the piano), and also has included school preparations for our boys, and countless details for every facet of an international move. And after weeks of envisioning how things might actually go, we are here. Yes, we are in Prague.

In all, physically departing our lives of ten years in the United States was not easy. But, the whole process went without a significant glitch. And once we arrived in Europe, our boys have been thrilled to discover many parts of the world are the same—especially pleasing has been the discovery of swimming pools, and ice cream (zmrzlina in Czech), of knowing a simple “please” and “thank you” in several languages really works. Best stated was our oldest son’s proclamation that the world really is smaller than he thought.

Our stay in Berlin brought the discoveries of the infamous Berlin Wall, as well as the Brandenberg Gate or Tor, and many other significant landmarks, including the maze of granite pillars set up in memorial of the Holocaust. Each made their significant impressions on us all, for sure. And then, the swift ride via autobahn through the German countryside and over substantial hills and small mountains down, past checkered fields and picturesque villages of tiled roofed villas, and into the Czech Republic. From a foreigner’s eye, the crossing from Germany into Czech could not have been more pronounced, a very Western-type world embanked by the blink of a border and the just-out-of-communism feeling of a Republic only twenty years old. But the Czech Republic is beautiful, in every way, maybe more because of its new freedom and the old-European ambiance found everywhere.

--taken from my iphone while riding :) through the Czech countryside

Yes, we are here, in our new city, culturally rich Prague, adorned by its Castle shimmering alongside the Vltava River. We are here, and we are grateful. Soon, maybe sooner than we think, we may know this new country as home.

Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers on our behalf. I look forward to sharing our adventures (and misadventures) with you all…

With gratitude, JK

A Giant Called Change

For those of you who know me, or who have been following my blog for any small stretch of time, you are aware of the unique life circumstances that have come the way of our King family of five. We are now en route to Central Europe to begin our next adventure in life—a three year expat assignment with my husband’s job. All five of us are quite excited about the immediate future—new sites, new foods, new language, and new experiences. We are all looking forward to fresh challenges—superb soccer and schooling for the boys, and the vibrant cultural, artistic, lingual, and architectural interests for me.

I took this photo of a juvenile male Ruby-throated Hummingbird on althea the last day at our house in Cincinnati. (I will miss the hummers, as they are only American jewels.)

Last week, packing week, proved to be a pivotal week for me. One huge thought still looms large in my mind: we, as Americans, have so much stuff. Though I think my personal tastes usually lean in the favor of minimalism, I know I sway even further in that direction now. Why?
· Having to itemize every thing in our house opened my eyes, far. (Think of your own house… lots of stuff, right?)

· One resonant question demanded an answer: What is it that I value most? Or what is it that I really need?

· Why do we naturally have so much stuff?

My quick answer to the last question—it’s the American Way, the American Dream, right? But, to answer the second question, I came to my conclusions, and found creative ways to use the things we do not need to try to help others.

As change has come upon us, many people have asked about the logistics of such an intercontinental move. We had to sort everything into three categories: air shipment (takes two weeks to reach us, very limited space), sea shipment (takes eight weeks to reach us), and storage (tried to pare down to only the things we’ll really want and need when we get back). After working through the house for sorting and packing, working through the details of selling the house and cars, and touching up paint and cleaning the house for sale, I can say that last week was incredibly demanding, and that this week is a welcome respite. Whew!

But when the whirlwind of activity dies down, it’s hard not to realize the Giant of Change bearing down on us. Fear easily slips in, and stirs up doubt. It is so much easier to go though our American Dream ways in Comfort Zone days and accumulate the stuff around us to pad ourselves against the frightening things that may come our way. But the truth is, I think, life is about change, and “safety” is an illusion; we might as well go out and embrace the unknown.
Perhaps in stepping up to bat with the Giant of Change, we can take away some of the power of fear and uncertainty, and begin to live the lives for which we were created.

And so … we are officially on our adventure over the seas to our new life in Prague. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers—I will keep you up to date, and share as much of the adventure as possible here on my blog. And, I’ll let you know how my theory with handling the Giant called Change develops … maybe it will be a great thing!

Enjoy these precious summer days, JK

Putting It All Out There (and Surviving the Criticism)

Twenty years ago this summer, I walked a Paris runway for the first time in Elite’s Look of the Year in France, my first real exposure to the world of modeling.

Somehow, at fifteen years old and standing five-foot-nine-and-one-half inches tall, I had been selected from a Midwestern small town to compete with fifty girls from other nations for a handful of modeling contracts with famed Elite Model Management. It was a fast lesson on the glamour of not only makeup and the catwalk, but also of working in the midst of famed designers like Azzedine Alaia, famed models like Linda Evangelista, and famed Elite head John Casablancas.
Certainly, in Paris, the scene was something like television’s popular shows—Gossip Girl or America’s Top Model. Mind-numbing, really, but for me, the 1989 Look of the Year also made for great experiences and fond memories. In the end, I was thrilled to win one of Elite’s contracts, and spent much of the following years pursuing that end in addition to balancing my education.
In the twenty years that have passed, I have tapped into those experiences I learned so early and so well—the times when people have offered their (kind and unkind) opinions of things I hold dear. Modeling, as with writing, is full of rejections. Models face the constant scrutiny of body parts, contours, and shapes, against the elusive “Look.” Writers stand against often only a yes or a no, all based on a subjective feel or sound or voice, as with many arts.

There is no easy formula for dealing with criticism … How can we hear a critic’s inevitable loud opinion, for instance in modeling, that one week our legs are too short or too fat or too twiggy, and then go on? How can we show something we are proud of, only to hear someone smash it to the ground with words?
Criticism comes, whether we want it or not—everyone is entitled to their opinions. Our only choices are 1) to dig our heels down into our comfort zones and never take a risk, or 2) to take a bold step out of our comfort zones and choose how to handle what will inevitably come our way—someone’s opinion that is different than our own.

To live, to really live, is to take the risk—to live in faith that though life may not come smoothly, our lives are rooted in purpose, deeply, to who we are, lived from the heart. When we can really live, we don’t cling to validation for success, but find significance in the knowledge that our lives are authentic, real, and lived in love, from the heart.

-JK

Time for Something New?

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve had the interesting task of itemizing everything in our home—toys, towels, tools—everything. It’s strange to account for the pieces of our family of five’s existence by the things we have around us in our home. Often, I thought, “This is it. This stuff defines us.” Weird. But on the other hand, it doesn’t. I am still me without all the stuff (which could lead me into a million ruminations on why do we have so much stuff, which always ends with the thought of less being really more, I think). But, as I was itemizing, and reflecting as I typed, I noticed the date on one of my first paintings—summer 2004. It’s been five years …

I still remember the day in the craft store, towing my three little boys, all under five years of age, around in their stroller, realizing I had always wanted to paint, and daring to pick out a handful of tubes of oil paints, a brush, and a standard canvas. The toothpaste-like consistency of the oils took a while to figure out, but now, after taking painting lessons from a local artist, and over one-hundred canvases later, I’m hooked. I’m confident I’ll never earn the ranks of Michelangelo, but the act of working toward expressing myself in a new way and listening to and moving toward the internal seed of a dream unique to me has set me free in ways I cannot begin to explain. To dream, and then take the steps toward fulfilling that dream, is priceless.

Why create? Why try something new? Why venture outside the box other people (or our own minds) impose upon us?

To those who have never had the experience, I find explaining the feeling of personal accomplishment impossible to quantify. There’s no other comparable feeling in the world. Moving toward the deep roots of personal dreams is exhilarating beyond description.

To those who have had the experience, there’s no need to explain or quantify … you already know.

Today is the first day of the last half of 2009. Today is a great day to listen to your heart and decide to try something new. Only you know what it is. This summer, dare to take the chance to try out a dream, and discover the thrill that follows accomplishing something you’ve always wanted to try.

Today is a great day to try something new …