I’m a coughing frog today so that’s why there’s no recording.
So often all I’m doing is marking time. Each day becomes about small tasks to check off my to-do list: work, laundry, grocery shopping, etc. It’s not frequent that I take a step back and assess how far I’ve come. I know it’s funny for me to say that because every birthday and holiday I’m assessing how I’m different from the year prior, but today is special because today is a huge anniversary.
On this day 10 years ago, I landed in London where I would be studying abroad for the next four and a half months. I was excited, nervous, sad. I trundled my black suitcase up Queen’s Gate with a guy from my feature articles writing class, stopping cab drivers asking them where our building was.
This is me, circa 2005, reading stuff in the British Library. Seemed appropriate for the title of this post. Sorry for the terrible quality.
I knew everything and I knew nothing. My world was topsy-turvy. It may not seem like much, but this 10-year anniversary is getting to me because a lot has happened internally and externally since then. I’m getting a glimpse into the past and a cure for the amnesia where I think the way life is now is the way it always was.
At 20, I was a raw nerve, a copper wire without the insulation. I felt everything so deeply and intensely that the only way I could cope was through food and fantasizing about the future; two practices I’m no longer engaging in. When it comes down to it, my study abroad experience helped shape me into the adult I am in ways I never could have anticipated.
Living in London I worked for a website that reviewed restaurants. They encouraged me to plagiarize, and being the upstanding journalist that I am, could not handle that. I called in reinforcements (aka, my mom) to try to switch to something else to no avail. The internship people basically told me and my mother to suck it up and deal with it. It was that experience that ignited my fire and gave me compassion for others in similar, helpless situations. It showed me what mattered to me and how no, I can’t work for just anyone, that some things are more important than money or internship credits.
I am really sick today, like, why-am-I-out-of-bed sick, so I apologize if this post is terrible. Mostly what I’m getting at is anniversaries are important times for reflection. To pat ourselves on the back for what we’ve done and to ask ourselves, “Do I like where I’m heading and who I’m becoming?” Life is about so much more than marking time or accumulating wealth. Today as I flipped through pictures all I could think was, “Why did I take so many pictures of buildings? Where are all the people?”
As I’m heading into a new decade I think that’s a great reminder because 10 years on I don’t care that I went to Notre Dame or visited Big Ben. I want to see pictures of friends and reminisce about that time we climbed statues in Trafalgar Square or we goofed off in Hyde Park. Seeing places is great and all, but I want to do more than mark time; I want to bond with those around me, to love and be loved.
I dream of a world where we take a break to assess our lives every once and a while. A period to check in on ourselves and determine if we like what we see. A world where we give and receive love. A world where we’re doing more than just marking time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version, scroll to the bottom.
There are many areas of my life where I have no idea what I’m doing. Because I have no idea what I’m doing, I look to other people for guidance because obviously they’ll know more than me. One such area is getting media coverage for myself as an inspirational speaker and for my book.
I’ve signed up for courses and seminars. I’ve read books, watched videos. I’ve been told this, like getting a job or a life partner, is a numbers game. That the more I blanket various media outlets the more likely something will pan out. Kind of like throwing spaghetti against the wall – at least one noodle will stick.
This seemed like an appropriate picture, no?
However, none of this has worked for me. When I complained to a new friend yesterday she said, “Of course, because you’re trying to replicate someone else’s experience. You’re on your own journey so you have to do what works for you.” The older I get the more I find this to be true. What works for others doesn’t work for me, and as much as I’d like to follow a formula, life isn’t like that. When I reflect on my past I very clearly see a guiding force, so perhaps it’s time to start trusting that force more and taking action when I am called to do so.
The other day this ad kept popping up for a website called “Help a Reporter Out.” I tried four times to close out the tab to no avail. Finally, I gave in and signed up. Wouldn’t you know it, the next day I received an email from a reporter looking for someone with my expertise. I kid you not.
I don’t know that it will amount to anything because stories get shelved all the time, but that’s not the point. The point is when I take inspired action, it always works out. The radio show I was interviewed for, the websites that published my work, they all came to fruition because an internal voice told me to contact them. What if instead of wasting my time querying people I don’t feel any resonance with, I only took action when I felt called to do so?
I dream of a world where we start listening to ourselves more. A world where we understand what works for others may not work for us. A world where we take action when it’s backed by intuition or spiritual knowledge. A world where our actions are inspired.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“Difficulties can never be greater than your capacity to solve them.” — Shrii Shrii Anandamurti
Usually when I encounter a difficulty I want to run away or I groan and lament the state of affairs. I’ll wish and wish things were different and spend ages wondering why they’re not. This week, however, I’ve been getting into the sentiment of the quote by Anandamurti. I’m building upon my strength, and self-trust, remembering no matter what happens I can manage it.
What a great example of overcoming obstacles.
Here’s a small example. On Tuesday, I flew to Vienna. I had a connecting flight in Germany and I felt nauseated. I spent most of the flight clenching my teeth together, doing what I could to not throw up. I dreaded the idea of getting sick on the flight but you know what? It happened and it was fine. (I mean, it wasn’t pleasant, but I dealt with it.)
I’m reminded we are powerful beings, that we can overcome all obstacles. That life is not so much about avoiding drama or difficulty but instead remembering no matter what happens we shall overcome them. There are about a jillion stories of people overcoming adversity because you know what? People do it every day. Not just the big stuff but little things too. My colleague had her wallet stolen in Vienna at a restaurant and yeah, it sucked, but she’s doing an amazing job of continuing to take care of herself, of laughing about it, because in the end, she can overcome this difficulty and move on.
We all can. We have more strength, power, and resources than we know. We are resilient creatures, we’re adaptable, we can overcome anything. I want to put my faith in that and remember that no matter what happens in my life I can manage it.
I dream of a world where we understand our resilience. A world where instead of being scared of difficulties, we remember we can overcome them. A world where we keep marching ahead, waging war against all difficulties because we’re confident victory is guaranteed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
It’s funny how things run in cycles. Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote a post called, “Reparenting the Inner Child.” The nuances of that post are being further revealed today. That post was about safety; this post is also about safety albeit a different kind.
The question has come up a few times this week, “Why did I write Just a Girl from Kansas?” Specifically, what do I get out of it? I realized on Thursday, the personal reason I wrote the book is to prove to myself that it’s safe to be me. It’s safe for me to be who I am out in the world; it’s safe for me to be vulnerable.
Into me see!
So much of my story, so much of my childhood, has been about hiding who I am for fear of harm. I learned early on to hide who I was and only reveal my true self around certain people. Writing Just a Girl from Kansas was an act of defiance. My adult self proving the world has changed, I have changed, and it’s fine for me to not only reveal my true self, but reveal the most intimate parts of myself.
I’ve heard it said intimacy could be broken down as, “into me see.” I would say that’s true. When I’m vulnerable, you are seeing into me and that’s scary because what if you don’t like it? What if you decide it’s not good enough, I’m not good enough, and you run in the other direction? Vulnerability and thus intimacy can be painful and scary. All day today I’ve wanted to hide away, build a wall around myself, and post a sign that says, “KEEP OUT.” Vulnerability is scary for people and I am no exception, but it’s important to let others see into me.
Because we’re talking about vulnerability, I have mention another post I wrote in which I linked to Brené Brown’s Ted Talk on the subject. She asserts vulnerability creates connection and I’ve found that to be the case. When other people see into me, my friendships are richer, deeper. We don’t talk about what Miley Cyrus is up to – we talk about what’s real, what’s happening in our lives, and that wouldn’t be possible without vulnerability.
I keep making myself vulnerable because the rewards outweigh the risks and sharing who I am reminds me I’m not as alone as I think. C.S. Lewis captures this sentiment perfectly when he says, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” Being vulnerable, being who I really am in the world reminds me there are others like me, other people dealing with the same issues, and that allows me to cope in a far greater capacity than I could on my own. That is why I let other people see into me.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to be vulnerable. A world where we remember as scary as it is, the rewards outweigh the risks. A world where we know it’s safe to be ourselves. A world where we remember we are not alone. A world where we let others see us for who we are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week my lifecoach tasked me with contacting a handful of people everyday about my book, speaking engagements, etc. At first I balked because I told him I didn't want to be "the weird girl." More than being afraid of rejection, I didn't want that familiar sensation of people staring at me blankly, or even worse turning up their nose at me. He asked me, "What's that like? The sensation of being the 'weird girl?'"
I told him it was a bit like being adrift at sea in nothing but a rowboat and no ships or people around for miles. The underlying feeling or sensation is one of being disconnected. Disconnected from other people, disconnected from my surroundings. For someone who LOVES to connect — with other people, her environment, and even connect one person with another — disconnection is like the ultimate hell.
A Mobius strip. True story, I have a pair of Mobius strip handwarmers.
However, what came out of my conversation with my lifecoach is that when I'm adrift at sea, I'm given a chance to connect with myself and also my higher power. So really, even when I disconnect I'm connected! It's a bit like a Mobius strip in that one feeds into the other. There is no end and there is no edge. I'm connected at all times, even if it's not to what I thought it would be.
When I articulated this to him, my fear went away. I realized yeah, I may disconnect from my audience, from the random person I contacted, or whoever, but that's OK because it gives me a chance to connect with someone or something else. I don't have to be afraid of disconnection because by acknowledging it, I'm allowing the space for a new connection to be formed. I'm allowing myself to drift about like a feather in the wind, blowing to its next destination.
I don't know if this blogpost is profound to anyone else, but to me, it's so indicative of how this world works, of its dualistic nature. That without dark there is no light. Without cold, there is no hot. And also how one feeds into the other. Out of darkness comes light and out of disconnection comes connection. It also shows me that sometimes it's within the depths of that which we fear, that we may find what we seek. That perhaps by venturing into what I'm avoiding at all costs I'll find what I'm attracted to.
I dream of a world where we understand disconnection is how we connect to something else. That connection and disconnection are two sides of the same coin. A world where we don't fear anything because we understand good comes out of the bad, and even what we fear the most may not be as scary as it seems. A world where we face what troubles us and know we'll still be OK. Because in the end, it may very well serve as a vehicle to get us what we want.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
If you've met me in person (or even if you haven't, actually) you know I'm like a frantic "little engine that could." I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can do any and all projects until my poor little engine starts short circuiting. So much so that even the hum of a refrigerator gets on my nerves.
Now that I'm in Arizona I've had to change my "I think I can" motto to, "I think I won't." It is so very hard to convince myself to do nothing. To rest. To relax. To lie on a pool flotation device and dabble my fingers in the water. I'd much rather be swimming laps or responding to e-mails or doing something productive. My little workaholic is horrified at the idea of spending an entire month lounging around and resting. What value is there in resting? What am I accomplishing by resting? There are no awards given for it. No gold stars, no praise.
I floated on one of these today.
I mention all this not to throw a pity party but because this is seriously imbalanced. Rest is just as important as work. (I have to admit a part of my brain just said, "Yeah right.") Without rest my body, my brain, my life all start to deteriorate. And I'm not just talking about getting eight hours a sleep each night. I mean taking time out to do nothing. Having a day where I don't leave the house and don't accomplish anything of merit.
When I rest it says, "I matter. I'm worth taking care of." When I throw myself into activity after activity it sends the message other people are more important than me. World issues are more important than me. But they're not. I'm not of use to anyone as I am right now — so dysfunctional I startle at every low, deep noise. So tired even after being awake for four hours I want a nap. I'm not blaming or chastising myself. This is the way it's been but I am making a conscious decision to change all that. I made a decision to put my health first the minute I said, "Sure, I'll housesit in Arizona."
There is value in doing nothing. There are three aspects to life: work, rest, and play. Neither should overpower any of the others because if they do life will become unmanageable. I'd rather not keep going down this road, thank you. Instead, I vow to do nothing.
I dream of a world where we all find balance between work, rest, and play. A world where we value each aspect equally. A world where we understand all elements work together. A world where we sometimes commit to doing nothing.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
The title for this post comes from my dear friend Alok Joddha Hernandez. It really resonated with me because as I reflected on his comment, “Miracles happen outside of your comfort zone,” I realized he was right. All of the miraculous, wonderful things in my life have happened after I took a risk or did something that made me uncomfortable. The most obvious/biggest example is chronicled in my book, Just a Girl from Kansas but I’ve also found it to be true with smaller experiences.
I can say unequivocally this has been the worst year of my life. That’s not to say good things haven’t happened, because they have, but this has absolutely been the most trying year to date. I’ve always had a sensitivity to noise, which I’ve mitigated with earplugs and a white noise machine, but lately my sensitivity has developed into a full-blown disorder. I startle at loud noises. I jump when doors slam. I am so on edge you’d think I was about to pull off a diamond heist.
This picture makes me think of miracles.
I had no intention of ever doing something about my sensitivity until it developed into this huge challenge. And since it cropped up I’ve been trying my usual bag of tricks: acupuncture, affirmations, homeopathy, prayer, meditation, naturopathy, surrender, etc. If it worked for me before, I figured it would work again. Except it hasn’t. I posted a very emo facebook status the other day that asked, “When you’re desperate is that when the true healing begins?” Because people, I am desperate. I am so desperate I am willing to go outside my comfort zone.
A friend mentioned to me biofeedback and I’ve been reluctant to try it because I’m unfamiliar with it, I don’t have much money, and well, new things scare me. However, I found a place in Arizona (because I’ll be there for the month of October) and I e-mailed them, mentioning I don’t have insurance so how much would this cost me? (I should mention here in case those of you reading get concerned I have Healthy SF which is like insurance just for within the city of San Francisco so it doesn’t apply in places like Arizona.) The very next day the biofeedback place called me and said, “We’ll waive the initial $100 fee, plus we’ll charge you half price, and if it takes seven sessions we’ll only charge you for five.” Da-yum.
I can’t say for sure whether this is a miracle because I haven’t done the treatment yet, but it sure feels like the beginnings of one. And all because I stepped out of my comfort zone.
I dream of a world where we all experience miracles. A world where we push ourselves outside our comfort zones because we’re ready for something different. A world where we experience love in the form of a miracle and where we keep growing and keep allowing the miracles to happen.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
In truth, I think the final frontier is the mind but the final frontier in terms of the physical world is space, in my opinion. I planned to write about this last week because Neil Armstrong died but, well, other stuff happened instead.
Armstrong's death, which also closely coincides with the rover Curiosity landing on Mars, demonstrates so clearly to me another world is probable, quite literally. I mean, a man stood on the moon, and now we're looking at pictures from MARS. This is stuff my ancestors could only dream about. Or maybe they didn't even dream about it because it seemed so farfetched. I mean think about it, we're exploring space. We're looking for other planets with living beings and stuff. THAT IS SO COOL.
I am still quite tired this week because I'm startling awake at every little noise after the break in, but today I am simply amazed by technology and what we as humans can accomplish. Somebody walked on the moon and today we're able to look at pictures of another planet from the comfort of our homes. How cool is that?!?
It's very easy for me to become blasé about stuff like this, "Oh yeah, whatever, somebody landed on the moon. Blah, blah, blah," but it's really a big achievement. We are all capable of so much individually and collectively. We have the power within us to solve our world's problems and seeing stuff like Curiosity land on Mars proves that to me.
Sometimes I feel like a peon, a speck of dust within the universe, which is probably true, but it's also true that everyone alive today is living during a pivotal time. We're witnessing unusual things, expanding our horizons, and seeing science fiction become reality. And that's pretty cool.
I dream of a world where we continue to explore our horizons. A world where we keep striving forward and achieving great things. A world where we stand in awe of what has occurred and what has yet to occur. A world where we truly experience the final frontier.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
Last week I opined that no storm lasts forever, what I didn’t count on is my storm ending so soon. On the first I gave notice and told my landlady I’m moving out September 15. I don’t know where I’m going for two weeks, but in October I’m heading to Arizona to housesit for a friend. What I noticed is August second I felt so much peace and contentment. Not because I’m moving out – although that too – but because I finally made a decision.
For weeks I’ve been wavering, sitting in limbo about what to do. “Should I move out on the first? Should I wait until I have a new place? Should I go to Arizona?” A stream of questions flowed through my brain and I didn’t know what direction to go in. That’s the agony for me, the indecision. At times I feel paralyzed about which path I should choose because I want to pick the “right” path. The path that will lead to my happiness or peace or whatever it is I’m craving exactly. I’m afraid if I choose the first option it will end up being a landmine and blow up in my face.
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| Which way to go? |
Does anyone like being in limbo? I highly doubt it. So once a decision has been made – even if it’s the “wrong” one – I feel better because at least I’m no longer scrutinizing every scenario in my head. At least I’m no longer obsessing about which way to go. I may not have picked the most optimal choice but once I’m off the fence, at least something is happening and I am able to deal with what’s next.
These days I strive for peace and serenity and making a decision leads to that. We are made to keep moving. Pausing goes against the natural order of the universe because if you’ll notice we either progress or we regress, there is no staying where we are. I think perhaps that’s why wavering kills me so much – it’s not a state I’m meant to be in for long. We are made to choose so at long last I have.
I choose to say “No” to unhealthy situations even if I don’t know what’s next, even if I don’t have a clear safety net, even if I’m nervous about what will happen. I choose to keep moving forward with my life and I choose to say “Yes” to growth, to love, to happiness, and making a decision. I may waver for a little while but I won’t waver for long, and that is something to celebrate.
I dream of a world where we all take clear, decisive action. A world where we keep moving forward because it brings us peace. A world where we say no when we mean no even if it seems scary at the time. A world where we feel held by love and light. A world where we no longer waver for long.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
So often I’ve heard “celebrities: they’re just like us,” but never quite believed it. In my mind there was always something “special” about a celebrity because they were famous and fame seems to be a very capricious thing – it’s not as if you go to school and can become a celebrity. This week I had the good fortune of spending time with two celebrities and have come to the conclusion I don’t know why some people become doctors either, but that doesn’t mean they’re more “special” than I am.
Years ago I would have regaled you with stories of hanging out with someone famous because I wanted to impress you. I wanted to show I was “important” because I knew a celebrity. Today, instead I find myself relating to those around me, understanding no one is that different, whether they’re famous or not. That I can do what they do, and in fact, I am.
Do you know how hard it is to find a stock photo of a fake celebrity signing autographs? Answer: very difficult. At least in this one the star is not so obvious.
So to back up a bit, I had the opportunity to be a part of an interview with Marianne Williamson. As in the woman who wrote, A Return to Love. As in the woman who I’ve quoted a jillion times in this blog. Yes. I have no idea how it happened but I am so glad it did. I have put this woman and others like her on a pedestal believing they were gifted with something I was not. Believing they must have been graced with something in order to do what they do. Meeting Marianne and seeing her speak showed me how false that is.
Don’t get me wrong, she is an amazing speaker and she obviously taps into divine consciousness in her talks but you know what? So does anyone who’s creative and has something to say. There’s nothing so very different about us. She’s a person just like I am. She gets spider bites and a dry throat and unruly hair. We are absolutely cut from the same cloth and that cloth is “human.”
What I also find interesting is “celebrity” is really about the beholder. On Tuesday I had dinner with Raymond Bagatsing, a Filipino actor I love. He said we wouldn’t be able to have the same experience in the Philippines because everybody would be looking at him and people would be mobbing the table. He didn’t say it to brag, nor to lament his life and his fans, he said it very matter-of-factly. Yet here in the States, nobody knows him from Adam. Obviously celebrity isn’t really about the person who’s famous, it’s about the people who are viewing them. It’s us that put people on pedestals. It’s us who think somebody is special and amazing. It’s us who turn that person into someone they’re most likely not. Because honestly, Raymond and Marianne are just doing their thing.
I dream of a world where we understand celebrities are just like us. A world where we realize no one is more special or less special than someone else. A world where understand people are people no matter what they’re doing, no matter what they’re wearing, no matter who they are. A world where each of us feel like the divine children we are because each of us is special and each of us has our own role to play.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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