crazy, stupid, mindfulness
25 Apr 2012 5 Comments
in innerwisdom, life, mindfulness
Yesterday I had one of those days.
You know, one of those days where no matter what you do, nothing goes your way? Yup, that was my Tuesday.
I had a pinched nerve in my neck. I woke up an hour late. I rushed to work, arriving late, only to walk into a big, ugly girl-fight as I came off of the elevator. Decided that my pinched-nerve-self needed to break up the fight, which then left me all shaky and freaked out. I got my haircut and couldn’t pay because in all of my rushing, I grabbed the wrong bag and forgot my wallet.
Stupid day.
Nothing horrible. Just stupid.
A stupid day every once in a blue moon is good for me. It brings me back to the moment. It makes me remember that all of my busy, crazy, rushing, overworking, nuttiness is just that: busy and crazy and nutty. No matter how much I try to control things and put everything in its place, I’m still going to have a ridiculous day every now and then. There will always be things that just don’t go the way I want them to go.
And so?
I breathe. Deeply.
I slow down.
I call someone who will marvel at how tired I must have been to sleep through my alarm clock blaring for an hour. I call someone who will laugh at the image of me jumping into a fight and pulling some angry girls (and a 40 year old!) off of each other. I call someone who will tell me that it’s okay to take the battery out of my butt and just relax.
And then, once I’ve stopped? I see what has been in front of me all along.
This moment.
Pretty freaking amazing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What day is it?” asked Pooh.
“It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
“My favorite day,” said Pooh.”
- A. A. Milne
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roots and wings
25 Mar 2012 14 Comments
in gratitude, innerwisdom, life, milestones Tags: Hartford, Kalahari Desert, Roots
Staying put was never my thing.
There was a time when I moved every two years, at least. I itched for change. For the rush of starting something new, carving out space in an unknown corner. I traveled, I moved. I made friends, started to get settled, and than picked up and moved again. Sometimes I’d move back to my hometown for a bit and then take off again. I was in full on flying mode, wings ever at the ready; I knew I wasn’t ready to put down roots just yet.
And that made my life pretty interesting.
In 2004, I wound up on a road trip in the Kalahari Desert with a great friend, her mom, and her stepsister. Four women piled in a jeep, cruising through desolate southern Africa; it was really something. At the time, I was living in New York City, just finished grad school and had turned down counseling jobs in the Bronx and Shanghai. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got back to the U.S., so my desert adventure was a perfect detour. We spent our days spotting rare birds and springboks, goemsboks, and zebra, chatting with San Bushmen. At night, we’d crouch in shelters overlooking watering holes, hoping to spot a lion, drinking tea out of thermoses, whispering and giggling in the cold.
One night, I looked up at the amazing, huge, sky and marveled at the sight of it. Clear. Limitless. Not so unlike the sky I’d seen lying on my back in the front yard at home. I knew in that moment, that whatever I ended up choosing to do, wherever I ended up choosing to go next, it would be right; I could feel it in my gut.
And so weeks later when walking down Farmington Avenue, rocking my favorite pink “Glam is Back” t-shirt, I listened to that feeling in my stomach when the opportunity to move back home presented itself. Worlds away from the Kalahari, I conjured up that clarity and though it seemed crazy to be 29 and moving from the greatest city in the world back to Hartford, I heard what my heart was telling me.
Seven and a half years later, I am so grateful that I listened.
I wound up back in little old Hartford, whose sidewalks I know as well as my own palms. Whose homes cradle the people that I love. Whose streets inspire me, challenge me, remind me. I wound up wonderfully enmeshed in the lives of family and old friends, in the families of my friends; challenged by carving out a new space for myself in the place that I knew so well but that had changed as much as I had.
I wound up working in a school where I am happy to go each day. Where I have found so much joy and reward; where I have been part of building something exceptional. I wound up being one of the lucky people on this earth who get to make a bit of a difference each day; working in a place with people who have empowered me to grow in ways that I never could have imagined that day on Farmington Avenue when my phone rang.
At the time, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I felt like everything in my life was up in the air. I was mourning the end of a phase of my life and reveling in the beginning of another. I was scared. I was completely in flux.
Today? The flux continues.
And as it does, I go back to that quiet night under the stars; I conjure up the Kalahari clarity and remind myself that change is good; it’s not comfortable, but it is good. I give myself permission to reflect on all that for which I am grateful. I remind myself to trust the process, to trust my gut.
No matter what kind of noise is crowding my mind, my gut is always worth listening to. It has led me to some amazing people, some unlikely places and some experiences that made no sense to me until they were long over, but, my gut, it knows a thing or two.
This time, I don’t need to go to the desert to listen to myself. While my life may not be quite as exciting and interesting and story-worthy as it was back when I was rootless, footloose and fancy free, the flux feels powerful and exciting instead of scary.
And while I haven’t put away my wings entirely, my roots are here, at home; deep and strong and full of hope.
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the 40 year-old PICOUP
05 Mar 2012 21 Comments
in friends, gratitude, life, milestones Tags: birthday, brother, milestones, PICOUP
My brother turns 40 today.
They say 40 is the new 30. They must know my brother.
He is vibrant and funny and full of incredible ideas and always making something neat happen. He is full of energy and passion and magic and music and stories. His spirit is limitless. He is magnetic. Babies love him. Nuns adore him. Even middle school kids who hate everyone can’t help but love my brother; he’s got a pocketful of stupid-human tricks that throw them instantly into idol-worship mode. (I just felt like Rob Bass: I mean even the ones who never saw him like…)
Since we were little kids and he could stand on his head and wiggle his ears first, I’ve been in complete and total awe of him. That’s not to say there haven’t been moments when my awe was coupled with, “oh my god! get away from me!” There have been plenty of those over the years. The time he tried to vacuum me comes to mind. I mean, literally, he vacuumed me. That’s all fun and games until the nozzle comes towards your hair.
All brother/sister torture aside, being the younger sister is kind of a cool perch.
I’ve been witness to my brother’s journey from a seat of looking up to and learning. He did almost everything first. He tested the waters. In many cases, he didn’t just stick a toe in, he cannonballed right into the deep end. In some cases, he dove headfirst into the shallow end.
No matter what he was doing or where he was, through the darkness and back into the light, my brother has always been an incredibly influential force in my life. I can count on him. Deluxe. And even though we’re older and I’m taller than him, I still love when he calls me his little sister.
My brother’s road has been windy. And bumpy. But as he turns the corner into 40, his road is smooth, new pavement with all sorts of great scenery. He’s kicking some serious world-butt. He has a beautiful family. He’s written a book! He has carved out an incredible career and he has a diverse group of interesting friends who, just like me, are in awe of how funny and cool and smart and ridiculously creative he is.
Today I see him more clearly than I ever could when we were younger.
Today I see a guy who loves so deeply and with so much of himself. I see a guy whose mind is racing, whose ideas are powerful, whose potential is limitless. Today I see a guy who can find something magical in everyone; a guy who seeks that connection, to draw that out in each person he meets.
My brother’s mentor and friend, Mike Gessford passed away unexpectedly last year, just before his 50th birthday. Mike had a sign above his desk that read, “PICOUP: Person In Charge of Unlocking Potential.” Mike was that. And, my brother Justin, he is that: a person who makes it his mission to help others find the magic inside of themselves.
Happy Birthday, Bo. Thank you for being the ultimate PICOUP to me…
UBUNTU and I love you.
queen of sheba
23 Feb 2012 6 Comments
in friends, innerwisdom, mindfulness
We live in a shiny world.
There’s a whole lot of bling and bright lights and stages and soap-boxes. There are folks that everybody knows and whose voices are louder and whose connections are deeper and who wind up all superfabulous in the spotlight. There are people who get a lot of love for something wonderful they’ve accomplished or for their brilliant ideas or for their athletic talent. In some cases, this is good stuff; I’m all about sending emotional bling to the Desmond Tutus of the world! (In some cases, this is not so good; I mean, really, why so much attention for the Kardashian sisters?)
It’s easy to admire those that have light shining on them.
Today, however, is all about sending a shout-out to all the people in the world who do amazing things, every single day, and never get the shine.
It’s about spreading a little bit of that light to the custodian at school whose day begins as mine is ending, who cleans up after hundreds of teenagers with a wide grin on his face and remembers everyone’s birthday. To the security guard in my building who works two jobs to pay for his wife’s medical bills and gives me a hard time about basketball. To my student who, even though the spotlight tries to shine on him, finds ways to focus the light on his teammates. To my dear friend who left a comfortable job to take on a crazy challenge at a new school with no resources, who is making significant change in the lives of the kids she is working with and still manages to go home and be a mom to three little hooligans all while going to school at night. To my dad who is simply kind, all of the time, to everyone he meets.
These people don’t do what they do because they want to be acknowledged. They are rocking out and changing the world with their integrity because it’s just who they are. That doesn’t mean that they don’t need to be acknowledged; some recognition might feel good and encourage them to be even kinder, even more industrious, even more real. And how great would the world be if the great ones became even greater?!
Part of what makes them so great is that they don’t realize how great they really are.
Shiny bling is cool! But all of the humble-rockstars in the shadows? Now, they are the truly fabulous and spotlight-worthy.
Today, remember to snuggle the people who do it all for the love.
sweet judy
13 Feb 2012 22 Comments
in friends, gratitude, innerwisdom, life Tags: camp woodstock, grief, judy snyder, love
Today my friend Judy died.
She was a giver. A first-order, drop-everything, be there with a smile on her face, lend a hand, giver.
Judy was full of laughter. She was kind. She was funny. She was feisty. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She spent her days at work helping people out and her time out of work helping people out. And it was never a strain; this was just who she was, a giver.
This completely unfair life left Judy with a brain tumor just weeks after she retired; she spent the remainder of her retirement fighting for her life until today when she passed on while surrounded by her beloved husband, children and others in their family.
When I think of Judy, she’s making a cheeky comment and cracking up. She’s finding the good in the most ordinary of moments.
So life isn’t fair. But it sure is full of amazing people.
I want to make sure that I make the most of every ordinary moment I have with the amazing people in my life.
Sometimes that’s doing something incredible together. Sometimes it’s a quick phone call or a check-in email. Sometimes it’s a full-on snugglefest complete with Thai food or movies or TV reruns of cop shows. Sometimes it’s a yoga date or a group at dinner or just sitting together in silence. Sometimes it’s boisterous laughter or planning a trip or taking a long walk at the reservoir. Sometimes it’s hijacking someone from their regular routine for a glass of wine on the couch while ignoring the kids or driving to Ikea or sitting together knitting. Sometimes it’s doing a whole lot of nothing but being happy with the people that I love.
Our time here is precious and it is not promised to us.
Life is better when you give. It’s better when you laugh. It’s better when you live it up and when you surround yourself with amazing people.
And most of all, life is better when you love with your whole heart.
Rock on, Judy. xoxo
ms. fat booty
01 Feb 2012 24 Comments
in mindfulness, Uncategorized Tags: body, exercise, machu picchu, mind, ms. fat booty, spirit
I need a personal drill-sergeant.
I need a relentless voice who will reach through my alarm clock, shake me awake and stay up in my face until I take some serious action.
Two mornings in a row I have set my alarm for 5:30 with the great intention of waking up, working out and feeling like a fabulous hot mama for the rest of the day. Instead, for two mornings in a row, I have hit the snoozer every ten minutes for an hour and spent the rest of the day cursing myself for being a lazy sloth.
Years ago, without a drill-sergeant, I hiked in high altitudes to Machu Picchu for hours and hours, steep mountain passes and treacherous down-hill climbs, all the while marveling at how incredible it was that my body could do this, that my body had brought me to such a beautiful place. Maybe it was altitude-delirium, but I remember being able to see myself, as if I was outside of my own body, hiking along a narrow pass, in total awe that the person doing this was me: complete mind-body-spirit balance-bliss.
The whole mind-body-spirit thing is completely out of whack for me right now.
I take care of my spirit like it’s my job: I surround myself with great people, I rest when I need to, I write, I meditate, I knit, I laugh and carry on and make sure that my soul is well-fed.
I take good care of my mind: I work in an environment that challenges me, I take classes to push myself to learn more, I read a ton and I don’t shy away from a hearty debate.
But for some reason, no matter how much I know it’s good for me on all sorts of levels, I am struggling to take care of my body. I have completely strayed from what I know that I need.
Going to the gym is torture for me. Last year I got into a fitness-DVD routine that I was hooked on for awhile but now if I go near the TV to put the DVD on, I have the uncontrollable urge to put my hand through the screen and choke the smiling, muscly guy who keeps telling me to push myself a little harder. I have fallen into a rut of lazing on the couch and amassing a stockpile of excuses for why I can’t exercise.
What is holding me back from doing what is good for me?
I love how I feel when I go for a long power walk, when I ride my bike with my dad, when I Zumba/laugh-my-self-silly and when I practice yoga. I feel beautiful. Strong. I feel energized and positive and like I can do anything.
When I take care of my body, I remind myself that the imperfect parts of myself serve a wonderful purpose and are really quite fantastic.
So maybe mornings aren’t for me, but it’s time to nurture Ms. Fat Booty.
I may not be climbing a mountain anytime soon, but that balanced-bliss, feeling fabulous about myself thing?
I’m ready.
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stress pudding
26 Jan 2012 4 Comments
in friends, innerwisdom, mindfulness Tags: friends, pudding, stress
Yesterday I almost drowned in a sea of paper.
I was at my desk plodding through mounds of work when, all of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe. Literally. I was struck breathless by stress.
You have to know that I’ve been floating along this year on a calm sea of cold-chilling, chocolate-pudding happiness. Even in the moments that I knew the water beneath me was deep, I was blissfully swimming along, making progress while ignoring the circling sharks.
And then, yesterday, I got caught in some weird undertow and was suddenly swallowing gallons of water, spitting and spurting, my eyeballs bulging, arms flailing all in the name of stress.
Everyone knows that flailing when you are drowning just makes things worse. But when you’re drowning, you bug out; all rational thought goes out the window.
Yesterday, I was flailing. I sat at my desk, rummaging aimlessly through piles of paper, talking to myself, gasping for air. Until I finally admitted to myself that I was overwhelmed.
As soon as I confessed to myself that I was, indeed, stressed, a life-raft arrived.
My friends.
Friends who just listened. Friends who gave me long hugs. Friends who reminded me that I dont have to do everything myself. Friends who told me to go home and take a nap.
I count on my friends all of the time to help me put things into perspective. They help me remember how to swim around sharks and to stop every now and then for a breather.
I am no good to anyone when I’m drowning. So that pile of papers? A great reminder that I need to nurture myself. I need to do right by my self. I need to listen to my body when it tells me it’s tired, listen to my soul. I need to care for my self with the same gusto with which I care for others.
Yesterday was a bummer.
Today?
Today I took the time to thank each of the friends that helped me through yesterday. Spending that moment with each of them made my today even better. Today I put music on in my office and rocked out while I made my way through the piles. I asked for help with what felt like too much and let go of everything having to be just so. I laughed. A lot.
I talked about what was contributing to my stress and the processing with friends helped me move through the muck back into a space of calm.
Today, thanks to my friends, I was swimming in the chocolate pudding with long, even strokes.
Mmmmmmmm chocolate pudding.
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