I’m the type of person who likes things to stay the same at home. I don’t rearrange furniture for fun or swap out pictures to bring new life into my space. No. I have a poster hanging above my bed and when it gets old, faded, or ripped, I plan on buying the exact same poster and putting it in the exact same place. Whenever I’ve moved, my apartment looks like a replica of the previous one, as much as it can given spacing is different, windows are in new places, etc.
Given that predilection, the past two weeks have been veeeeeeery difficult because of construction taking place inside my apartment. My home was in complete disarray and I can’t put things back how they were before. My bookcase can no longer be flush against the wall due to an electrical panel and that means I had to move my plants and my pictures. My friend Nicole calls this “forced feng shui,” which is spot on. It doesn’t matter if it looks good or I like it, I’m forced to change things. I hate it. But at the same time, I’m taking this as an opportunity to do some upgrades.
During the pandemic, my wall heater broke and my landlord replaced it but the new one was smaller than the old one. That created a border around the new heater, exposing the unpainted wall. I didn’t ask my landlord to repaint it because I didn’t want a stranger in my home longer than they needed to be because this was the height of the pandemic when the risk of contracting COVID was high. So I lived with a border around my heater. For years.
Sometimes change makes things better. Photo by Theme Photos on Unsplash
When the current construction crew needed to repaint part of my wall because of moving the electrical panel, I asked them to paint around the wall heater too and they did. Yes, the construction is a nuisance, but also it’s an upgrade. My place looks better than it did before. This same principle applies to other areas of life as well. Frequently I spend so long mourning the loss of the thing I used to have – a job, relationship, community, whatever – that I forget it could be making space for something better.
More than a decade ago I released my memoir, Just a Girl from Kansas, and the subtitle was, “One woman’s dreams are ant-sized compared to what lay ahead.” (Side note: I know that’s grammatically incorrect but “lay ahead” felt more open and resonant to me than “lies ahead.”) I used to believe that. Everything in my life kept getting better and better until I hit my Saturn return at age 28. At that point, life got very, very hard and most of the optimism about my personal future leaked out of me like a deflating balloon. Believing I was getting an upgrade felt almost impossible. It felt more like I was getting beaten down by life.
I’ve slowly been coming out of that and am starting to believe things can be better than I envisioned for myself. The dream I had in my 20s was to be the editor of a magazine, which I was. What I do now, ghostwriting for therapists and working as a freelance journalist, is so much more interesting and fulfilling than working for one publication. This, too, is an upgrade.
The energy of my life right now is, “Can you let go of the way you think things should be? Can you instead make room for what wants to be birthed, which is better than you imagined anyway?” It’s a process, but I’m working on it because it turns out I enjoy upgrades.
I dream of a world where we understand sometimes the old has to leave our lives to make room for something better. A world where we recognize what we want for ourselves can be less than what the universe wants for us. A world where instead of viewing certain experiences as a hassle, we see them as potential upgrades.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a truly wild story. About 13 years ago I lived in an in-law unit and the landlady wanted to show the apartment to potential tenants. I didn’t want to be home and at the same time wanted to safeguard my valuables. The most valuable piece of jewelry I owned was a diamond pendant necklace from my Grandma Libele. She died when I was 13 and the necklace was the only physical thing of hers I owned so it was valuable for multiple reasons.
When I got home after the viewings, I couldn’t find the diamond necklace. I either forgot where I hid it or someone stole it after all. Every time I moved in the ensuing 13 years (which was a lot), I looked for the diamond necklace. I kept thinking it would turn up in a random box or bag that I would find as I unpacked. I didn’t. And even after I settled into my current apartment, every so often inspiration would strike and I’d check a purse pocket or pouch hoping I’d find the necklace. I never did.
This week construction guys are working on my apartment. I had to remove everything from one of my closets and now my belongings are scattered all over the place. I hate it so much but I’m taking it as an opportunity to clear things out. Sheets I never use? Donate them. A cord that I have no idea what it goes to? Recycle it. There’s a three-drawer storage bin I kept in the closet that I’ve opened a million times because I have cloth napkins and such I use regularly. For some reason this week I decided to open all of the drawers fully and empty them. In the top drawer, the one I open the most, was my grandmother’s necklace.
Here it is! The necklace.
I burst into tears when I saw it, not only because of the necklace itself but also what finding it reminds me: “What’s meant for you will always find you.” That’s a message I need to hear over and over again because as a worrywart, I don’t always believe that’s true. I’m scared I’m doing something wrong. That I’m “blocking” my perfect whatever or I missed the metaphorical boat. I’m not alone in that either. People say things like, “I missed the deadline to apply for my perfect job!” “My future romantic partner isn’t on a dating app so I’ll never meet them!” or, “Somebody else bought the house meant for me!” None of that’s true.
I’ve repeatedly seen that if something is meant for you, it will always find you. In fact, if it’s meant for you, you can’t keep it away. This happened to me with a pearl bracelet and other things too. So often I think I messed things up, that I blew my chance, that I can’t have what I want but finding my grandmother’s necklace again reminds me, no, what’s meant for you will always find you. It may take a while, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
I dream of a world where we understand the people, things, and situations that are meant to be in our lives will. A world where instead of living in scarcity, we live in trust. A world where we know that yes, there are actions we have to take, but we don’t need to worry about missing out on anything because what’s meant for us will always find us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I feel incredibly off. In large part, it’s because I’ve been sick with a cold for the last nine days. Add in lack of sleep due to said cold, disruption at my apartment because of construction, Trump returning to the White House, the collective heartbreak around the LA wildfires, continued destruction of Gaza, and all the other tragedies in the world, and I want to pull a Rip Van Winkle. If I could go to sleep and wake up once everything is better, that would be great.
When life is like this, I remind myself of a few things: One, I don’t need to tackle my life’s problems (or the world’s problems) all at once. I do what I can when I can. And two, what’s called for is the next right action. The next right action varies but it’s always something small and manageable like taking a shower, calling that person, or running an errand. Little things snowball into big things and I can trust the big things take care of themselves when I focus on taking the next right action over and over again.
Lastly, to keep myself from falling into a pit of despair, it’s important to find the good and remember the miracles all around me. To that end, I’m resharing a post from August 2023. I hope it helps you as much as it does me.
After a long day of staring at my computer screen, I walked outside to my apartment complex’s terrace where something caught my eye. Leaning against the far wall beneath an overhang is a bag of detritus. It’s filled with dirt and pine needles and everything workmen scooped out of our gutters from at least eight months ago, if not longer. Do you know what was spilling out of that bag?
A well-developed nasturtium vine. There are so many things about this that are astounding. Number one, I’m on that terrace every few days watering my plants. How did I not notice it before? And number two, it hasn’t rained here in MONTHS. How did that nasturtium vine survive?!? It’s not like any of my neighbors were watering a bag of soil in an attempt to keep a plant alive. And yet, not only did the vine survive, it thrived as you can see in the picture.
The vine in question. Look at how big it is!
When I saw this plant, I literally laughed out loud because it was so unexpected and also miraculous. It reminded me that miracles are everywhere if we look for them. Miracles often have the connotation of being something big and obvious, but they can also be small and discreet, like this nasturtium vine.
I could use more miracles in my life. It’s easy for me to become disheartened by the ever-present pessimism in the news. Fires leveling towns. Floods. Famines. It’s a lot. And yet, if I look around, I also see evidence of miracles. Back in November, scientists captured footage of the black-naped pheasant-pigeon, which hadn’t been seen since 1882! In Brazil, the Golden Lion Tamarin used to be on the brink of extinction with about 200 animals in the wild, but the population has rebounded to around 4,800, according to a recent study.
Miracles happen every day with people surviving deathly car crashes, getting pregnant when they thought they were infertile, or walking again when they were told it was impossible. It’s easy to think, “Well, that wouldn’t happen to me,” but what if it could? What if you could also receive a miracle? And like me with the nasturtium plant, what if miracles are all around and we’re just not noticing them?
Given the choice between a world where we’re all doomed and one where miracles occur, I vote for the latter. It reminds me of a concept we have in my spiritual tradition called madhuvidyá, which literally means “honey knowledge.” It requires seeing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, also known as Brahma.
My spiritual teacher says, “This madhuvidyá will pervade your exterior and interior with … [ecstasy] and will permanently alleviate all your afflictions. Then the ferocious jaws of [degeneration] cannot come and devour you. The glory of one and only one benign entity will shine forth to you from one and all objects.”
That may not seem relevant but for me, practicing madhuvidyá means remembering God is here, there, and everywhere. Because everything is Brahma, everything is a manifestation of that infinite loving consciousness. In that framework, OF COURSE miracles are everywhere. How could they not be?
I dream of a world where we recognize the strange and the unlikely occurs all the time. A world where we make room for magic and mystery. A world where we understand this entire universe is composed of an infinite loving consciousness that is all-knowing and all-powerful. A world where we recognize if that’s true, if anything can happen, then miracles can too.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s the time of year when people are making resolutions, plans, and goals for themselves. They’re picturing who they want to be and what they want to do this year. Someone asked me if I had any resolutions and the answer is no because my biggest lesson of 2024 was, “Stay in the moment because you don’t have a clue how things will turn out.”
Over and over again life surprised me with curveballs both good and bad. Longtime friends drifted out of my life. New ones arrived on my doorstep. High-paying clients stopped providing me with work. New ones took their place. I couldn’t have predicted any of it. So instead of making lists of what I want to accomplish, I’m embracing something poet Mary Oliver said: “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” As someone prone to worry, the “unimaginable” is often synonymous with “terrible.” Things like, “An earthquake is going to swallow me up!” or, “My dear friend is going to get hit by a bus!”
What’s around the bend? We have no idea. Photo by Dirk Spijkers on Unsplash
I’m pretty sure that’s not what Mary Oliver meant when she said keep room for the unimaginable. I suspect she meant, “Allow room for wonder, possibility, and joy.” When I read her quote, I feel warmth in my heart and remember that good things can happen out of the blue like meeting new friends, getting accepted into a film festival, or finding out you’re pregnant. The unimaginable can be incredibly sweet even if it wasn’t planned.
What I’ve learned in an even deeper way over the past year is I’m not meant to know everything. Life isn’t meant to follow a script, or at least not one we have access to. My spiritual teacher says, “Human beings should always remember that living beings are only actors in the vast universal drama composed by [Cosmic Consciousness]. . . . One should remember: ‘We are only playing specific roles in a great drama. I will act properly according to the role I have been given in this drama.’ This is a person’s duty. It is meaningless for a person to think about anything more than this – about what is beyond oneʼs power.”
There are many, many things beyond my power but what I can control is how I’m showing up in the world. Am I overly focused on my plan, my story, and how I think things should go? Or am I softening into the great unknown and remembering to save room in my heart for the unimaginable? This year I’d like to do the latter. So maybe I have a New Year’s resolution after all.
I dream of a world where we remember life can be surprising and delightful. A world where we understand we are all actors in a drama we didn’t write and don’t have the script for. A world where in addition to our plans, we save room in our hearts for the joyfully unimaginable.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.