Irish Tax

The post-Celtic Tiger financial district rises high above the River Liffey where the Dublin docklands once bustled with commercial activity. Today these multinational corporations represent an important part of the Irish economy, just as the docklands did in early Irish history.  PwC Dublin claims a stake on the modern quay where voices from the 1916 rising still echo in a nation deeply rooted in rich cultural heritage. My week in Ireland has launched me into preparing for business in a global economy. As my clients start to look across borders and overseas, I am ready to support their international business needs with a global network inside the world’s leading professional services firm.

Upon arriving in Dublin, I drove through Merrion Square past Leinster House (the national parliament of Ireland) and discovered a bustling maritime town with classic Georgian architecture and brightly colored doors. Gold-lettered pubs below red brick buildings shared traditional Irish folk and cotemporary sounds. Beyond the Samuel Bridge and further across South Dublin, I found Dublin Castle—a strong reminder of 1922 when the Republic became a ruling reality. I took a stroll down the lively Grafton Street where modern designers and street performers entertained locals and tourists alike. I wandered through the long corridor of the Old Trinity College Library that houses the oldest and most well-preserved illuminated manuscript of our time: the Book of Kells. I appreciated one of Ireland’s most famous collections of private contemporary Irish paintings housed at the traditional Merrion hotel. I visited the National Museum of Archeology where shriveled and leathery bodies of Ireland’s early Celtic ancestors preserved by the acidic, oxygenless, and cool environment of peat bogs can be seen on display.  A historical tour of the old Kilmainham Gaol (Jail) taught of Irish political heroes who had been imprisoned or executed there under British colonial rule. I visited the breathtaking Cliffs of Moher on the Western Irish coast. I also visited Galway, an old Irish seaport, where the horse races were on that weekend and woman flocked the streets in ornate portrait hats and fascinators.

On the last day of my experience, I had the opportunity to address the Irish Interns at their final internship competition. As I stood on the seventh floor, with a beautiful view of the harbor beneath, I felt Irish. “Everyone is Irish if you go back in their history far enough,” said a manager on my team. But if you can’t seem to find your Irish heritage on paper, the people will accept you just as you are--that’s the Irish way. 

Business in Dublin

Think green. Yep. Bogs, fog, rain, sea mist. It’s all here, and I’m here to--to see it and to realize that this trip has been in the works for 11 years. Who would have guessed that 2014 would bring my first international assignment? I’m working in Foreign Direct Investment for multinational tech. We live in a world of integrated global structuring, and I’m jumping right into the thick of it.

This trip is teaching me to believe in things you can’t see … yet. If you can dream it, it can happen. And the best time to start dreaming is now. Eleven years ago, I was so close to coming to Ireland. So close that I could have made it happen if I was willing to give up just one thing. But I decided not to give up this conviction. Instead, I decided that I would let Ireland surprise me one day when I least expected it. Little did I know that would be when I most needed it.

“Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven; but for those who embrace the Gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.” – Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

Get Up

It was dark so my eyes had trouble adjusting, but I could hear the waves crashing close. I walked to the top of the driveway and sure enough there was the most beautiful view of the water. Uninterrupted. It was in that moment I realized how in tune my Father in Heaven is with what I need.

I have never had a semester at BYU like this last one. Never. In fact, it came straight out of a nightmare I've had before. Although nightmares rob us of decent sleep, we eventually wake up. As I starred out into the dark, I realized that I had finally woken up.

And each day since then I have been waking up to surf. I can lie in bed and watch the surfers. Oh and I've started equestrian riding again. I laughed as I tried on my old show helmet and looked for my chaps. The chaps are gone and the helmet is definitely the right choice for America's average five-year-old head. Sometimes new beginnings can happen somewhere you've been before. I grew up here. This is the beach of my childhood. These are the tides I remember. So much has happened since then, and its because God has loved me enough to let me fall down. Literally.

But if there is one thing I know, when you fall you have to get up. If you fall on a horse and don't get back on immediately, the horse knows he's won; he has a way out. So when you fall, you have to get up and get back on that horse. That's what I have been telling myself for the past three months. There were times when things would get so difficult that I would just repeat over and over in my head, "I'm not going to give up, I'm not going to give up." What seemed pathetic at the time worked.

I'm up and I'm back to riding horses. And just time for all that's waiting. :) This summer brings castles in Dublin and scuba with the fish swimming around Papua New Guinea!

Rond de jame en l'air

Sometimes I wish I danced through life a little more gracefully. I wish endlessly that all my i's would find themselves dotted and t's crossed. But sometimes, things fall apart and by the time you realize the end has come it's too late.

So maybe I'm a late bloomer. But I bloom. And life was just as beautiful yesterday as it is today even though its different. Nothing can change that. Experiences with their range of outcomes can only bring more lessons learned, and that is my true objective--not a 99 percent success rate. Perhaps "be ye therefore perfect" is best read as "become ye therefore perfect." Don't skips steps. Enjoy the highs, the lows, all that comes in between.

Well I'm back, and without my black badge. I can no longer hide behind the shadow of transition from one phase of life to the next. I am loving this phase as much as the last, but certainly not as much as I will love the next. If you keep moving forward, you are moving the right direction. So when you attempt pirouette and loose track of where the corner of the room is, simply land and start again.

You are stronger than you think.

Love,

Amy

Word Wise

Sometimes I forget power of words.  Words eloquent spoken or carefully organized on a page can change lives.  How could I forget this?  I was reminded of this in a 1922 letter from Heber J. Grant.  The letter's ivory color, though browned by the passage of time, gives me a glimpse of this prophet’s heart and the ink impacts my soul just as it surely did the recipient's on New Year's Day when it was received.  The letter's penmanship is perfect.  For a man that struggled with writing legibly, this is impressive.  "The man without excuses" was coined to describe his tenacity.  President Grant was ridiculed about sloppy penmanship early in his life, but he wanted to become a bookmaker, so he simply practiced.  I have no trouble reading his letter.

 But speaking and writing aren't the only ways to communicate and use words.  Just ask Ashley Fiolek.  In motocross, a sport dominated by loud bikes, Ashley hears silence.  When she makes it to the podium (yes, when ... not if) she signs "thank you" to her respective sponsors.  Can you imagine shifting or finding neutral, when you can only feel the vibrations of the bike?

This life is not so much about what you are given, but what you do with what you are given.  Everytime I hear about an individual who has beat the odds, I smile.  Don’t let anyone ever tell you can do something.  Your words can comfort, uplift, and share, so chose them wisely.

The Big Apple

Greetings from my New York high rise on the Upper West Side.  Anthro curtains, pillow top mattress, vintage dresser, a dozen white roses.  I love this city.  It is home. 

Metro to Wall Street, Times Square, anywhere really.  72nd street is my favorite so far because it has Trader Joes and ballet.

Plenty of suits in the closet.  A few shirts at the cleaners.  I am officially a city girl.    

Soi 13

Soi 13. The cab driver makes a sharp right turn. I find myself standing in the slums of Bangkok. Everyone who walks by stares at my skin, but I'm not alone.

Here live the refugees. Here is where they wait - some of them for years. Persecuted for the ethnic background in their home country, they are here. Off the beaten path, hidden. They don't want to be separated because the most important thing they have is each other. Well, actually that is all they have. I am greeted by a warm smile and a countenance that shines with peace; the type of peace that I am constantly searching for in my modern flat. Yet I find it here in a one bedroom living space with 6 people, a small fridge, a balcony, and ...

"How long have you been waiting to be relocated," Jonathan questions. "About 4 1/2 years," says the 18-year-old daughter smiling. She smiles because everyday she hopes. "And what about your schooling?" Mom chimes in. She alludes to her desire to begin it in her Home country. "God will help us," she says. As she speaks her mother and sister crawl into the back part of the apartment and reappear with biscuits and an refreshing cold orange drink. If you needed a shirt, she would give you the one off her back.

Four and a half years without a home. Four and a half years knowing that any day someone could be sent to IDC (detention camp for immigrants). Yet, living in fear that police could come in the middle of the night and take women, children, or just a husband away is better than where they came from. War rages, countries are dividing, and blood boils all over the globe. These people who live in fear and in shambles have the inner peace that the rest of the developed world seeks so desperately.

As I step over the threshold of the door, I smile. Life is good. I can help. I can love. I can give. I want to love and give like these refugees. I want my countenance to shine. As I left Soi 13 that day I realized again that I was not alone. As King Benjamin says in the book of Mosiah, "aren't we all beggars?" Aren't we all refugees in one way or another?