This Valentine’s Day marks 14 years since I moved to the Bay Area. My friend Emma jokingly says it’s my “golden” anniversary because the numbers match. I don’t know if this year will actually be golden, if it will be my best year yet, but I do know every year I wonder if my anniversary will be humdrum, blasé, just a date on the calendar. And every year I find just the opposite: it’s still celebratory and meaningful.
Every year I still swell with pride and choke up in gratitude that 23-year-old me, scared of just about everything, said, “OK, I’ll move,” without having a job, a place to live, or an extensive community. That little community grew and caught me every time I thought I’d fall, which could be a whole other post. It wasn’t an easy experience moving nine times in seven months, nor watching my bank account approach zero dollars and then hit it, but boy am I grateful I moved. I’m so appreciative of that young woman who didn’t give up. For continuing to try even when it would have been easy to throw in the towel. I’m grateful to her for her courage, her openness, and her willingness to go outside her comfort zone. So much happened 14 years ago and the echoes still reach me today.
Why am I writing this publicly? After all, it could have been a journal entry, a private love letter to myself, but I’m making it public because it has me wonder, have you expressed gratitude for your past self lately? Have you said, “Thank you,” to the person in the mirror?
Thank you goes a long way. Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Unsplash
Valentine’s Day is touted as a day to celebrate relationships, typically romantic ones. But the most enduring, constant relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself. You are the only person who is with you from birth to death. Have you said, “I’m so proud of you”? Or even given yourself a high five in the mirror?
Mel Robbins (no relation to Tony Robbins), is a motivational speaker and coach. She talks about high fiving yourself in her book The High Five Habit. During a podcast episode with Marie Forleo, she said, “You’re either going to have a really positive reaction where you’re going to laugh and you’re going to smile and it’s going to be funny and corny and all this stuff, or you will burst into tears in a very positive way. This is a very, very common thing that’s happening for people. And the tears are a positive release because you are realizing emotionally how much you’ve longed for this from yourself.”
Sometimes it’s easier to praise other people, to express our gratitude and appreciation for them, but what about you? Aren’t you just as deserving of praise, gratitude, and celebration? This Valentine’s Day, show yourself some love. I bet there’s something, some version of yourself, some moment, some age that you reflect on with appreciation. What do you want to say to that past self? As for me, I’m saying, “Thank you.”
I dream of a world where we appreciate ourselves for how far we’ve come. A world where we say, “Thank you for doing that,” to the person in the mirror. A world where we show some love to ourselves on a day that’s all about love.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Looking through my Facebook memories, it seems February is frequently a month that I walk along the razor’s edge of fear and faith. At any moment it’s easy for me to slip onto one side or another. It seems only fitting because February starts with the letter “F” after all.
While watching TV this weekend, I heard a line that resonated with me: “Faith is worthless if left untested.” How true. Faith doesn’t have any weight if it’s something passive or taken for granted. Faith only means something if you’ve had to live it. My journey, especially as an adult, is living in faith over and over again.
On Valentine’s Day 2008, I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area without a job, without a plan, knowing only my dad’s best friend and one other person. I had $2,000 in the bank and that was it. The journey was one big test of faith – how much did I want to live here? How much did I believe things would work out?
Similarly, the same situation happened again when I quit a stable job with zero savings and no job offers on the table. My safety net was thinking if I really needed it, I could move back in with my parents or start a GoFundMe. These days, I have my own business, which is something I never planned for myself, never anticipated. It always seemed too scary, too unstable. How would I get steady income? And sure enough, this week that’s exactly what I’m confronting.
This picture, my goodness. Photo by Jordan Donaldson | @jordi.d on Unsplash
My highest paying client announced they’re going in a different direction and that means our work together is coming to an end soon. Cue the freak out as well as self-doubt. I’ve made an effort this week to come back to faith, to remember I’m not alone. That I’m in partnership with the universe and there’s a loving presence that wants me to be happy, joyous, and free.
On Saturday, I attended a live tarot card reading to offer guidance for the new lunar year. The cards that were pulled were about exactly this: Remembering we have gifts to offer others, that things work out when we follow our intuition, and also that there’s a mysterious force undergirding it all. When I reflect on numerous Februarys, I see that.
My spiritual path is based on the philosophy of Tantra and advises practitioners to: “Jump into your environment without the least hesitation. Don’t be afraid. Fear will leave you step by step. Tomorrow you will not be as fearful as you are today, the day after you will be even less fearful, and 10 days from now you’ll notice that you are completely fearless.”
I wouldn’t say that I’m completely fearless, but when I remember there’s a spirit that moves me, that moves everyone, I feel more faith. And in this moment, it’s hitting me strongly that I’ve done this over and over again: taken a leap of faith and wound up somewhere better than I ever imagined.
I dream of a world where we remember faith and fear are two sides of the same coin. A world where we realize faith is worthless if left untested. A world where we see there is a benevolent force in our lives that guides us, that loves us, and wants to see us succeed.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
As of July 30, “Another World is Probable” is ten years old! I have written a post once a week nearly every week for TEN YEARS. When I started, I had no idea I would keep it up for that long. Nor did I think I’d have so much to say. It turns out when you write about yourself and the world around you, there is plenty of material.
I also have to admit many times I thought about discontinuing the blog because I wondered if anyone cared. Was anyone reading this thing? What has kept me going is hearing from readers and listeners. I’ll be honest, in the past few years what’s helped a lot is people who contribute to my patreon campaign or who donate via paypal. Because even if no one says anything via comments, emails, or facebook, at least I know some people find enough worth in what I have to say to donate money to me on a regular basis. Thank you for that. Thank you for reading. Thank you for listening. Thank you for telling me over the phone or in person how much something I wrote touched you. When I hear from you, I’m reminded why I started this blog in the first place, which was to spread hope, inspiration, and offer perspective. To that end, I thought it would be fun to share the first post I ever wrote. It’s what follows:
If you watch the news today (or any day really) you would think the apocalypse is right around the corner. I don’t share this viewpoint because I am an optimist. Not only do I think the world has the potential to become a better place, it is a better place.
Ten years! Woohoo! Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash
When I was a child in the early 90’s, I was the only vegetarian in my entire school. Now vegetarianism is, dare I say it, fashionable. The reason I bring this up is because vegetarianism as a lifestyle is better for your health and for the environment, so the fact vegetarianism has become more popular is proof people are becoming more awake. It’s proof the world is becoming a better place because people are starting to understand we cannot continue as we have. People are becoming more open to alternatives that are better for them and for the world. And it’s not just the hippies in the big cities. Vegetarianism is growing even in Middle America. Food Lion, Giant, Safeway, and other big grocery stores are stocking meat alternatives. The natural-grocery giant Whole Foods is still growing and prospering.
Not only are more people starting to become vegetarian, but “going green” or trying to be environmentally friendly is all the rage. Project Runway just had an episode where the challenge was to use “green” fabrics or environmentally sustainable materials. Project Runway was nominated for an Emmy — it’s not some public access channel show. It’s mainstream. And it’s advocating being environmentally friendly!
I remember as a child my parents taught me about global warming, about how it’s necessary to reduce, reuse, and recycle. Roughly 15 years later, instead of still being a part of a fringe group, I find myself being in the majority. That’s incredible to me. Also, more and more grocery stores are stocking canvas bags people can reuse (perhaps all of them, I’m not sure, I haven’t been to every grocery store). And even though not everyone is using a canvas tote, the fact the totes exist is a cause for celebration. It means people are taking steps toward a better world. One where we are more aware of our actions, our choices, and our responsibilities toward one another. All of this inspires me.
When I look around I don’t see doom and gloom. I see hope and possibility and change. I see people starting to understand their actions have consequences, that what they do affects the world on a global scale. I’m starting to see more acceptance, more tolerance, more compassion. I’m starting to see that another world is not only possible, but it’s here.
This Valentine’s Day marks 10 years since I moved to California. I can’t believe it’s been that long – five years I could believe, but 10? That’s almost a third of my life. I’m grateful I made the decision to move here, I’m grateful for my life here, my friends here, my community here, but also I’m sad.
I’m not sad about the decision, because like I said, I love California. California is home. I’m sad I’m not 23 anymore. I don’t want to go back in time and relive 23 because I was scared, anxious, and insecure much of the time, but in other ways I miss who I was. I miss how excited I felt, how enthusiastic I was. I miss the newness of the world around me. I know I’m still young and I’ll still experience new things, but now I have a point of reference. When I travel to new countries, they remind me of other countries. When I try a new restaurant, it reminds me of another restaurant. As I get older, even new things are slightly familiar.
I feel grateful and I feel sad. Photo by Sweet Ice Cream Photography on Unsplash.
Really what’s happening here is I’m grieving the old me. Celebrating my anniversary reminds me of who I used to be and who I am now. The gap is large, in a good way, but it’s still a gap. Through my work in therapy, I’m learning it’s important to grieve for my old selves. To feel a sense of loss for the person I once was and can no longer be. The sadness exists and doesn’t go away through any rationalization on my part, nor any amount of looking on the bright side. Mourning the old me reminds me of a quote from my spiritual teacher.
He said, “Death is nothing but change. A 5-year-old child is transformed in due course into a 15-year-old boy. In 10 years, the child becomes the boy. Thereafter, you will never be able to find the body of the 5-year-old child. So the child’s body has certainly died.” He then goes on to mention the boy growing into a man, and then hitting middle age, then old age, until he finally dies and says, “The rest of the changes we do not call death; but in fact, all the changes qualify as death.”
That means my 23-year-old died and it’s important for me to honor and say goodbye to her, just as it’s important for me to honor and say goodbye to other people when they die. And that’s what it feels like today, that I’m saying goodbye to the 23-year-old me. I’m remembering what I liked about her and what I disliked, and I feel sad. A little voice in my head is saying, “It’s almost Valentine’s Day! You should be writing about love and happy things! No one wants to read a depressing post!” That may be true, but also in multiple conversations with people they told me they felt like they had to be happy and upbeat in order to talk with me and I said, “No you don’t. You get to be whoever you are. I don’t mind if you’re happy or sad. Either way is fine by me,” and I meant it. And I mean it for me, too.
As we approach Valentine’s Day, I hope you will also let yourself feel sad if sadness arises. I hope that you will grieve old selves and old loves if that bubbles up. I also hope you know that doesn’t diminish the good things in your life, or take away how grateful you are for changes. All changes are deaths and all deaths need mourning.
I dream of a world where we mourn our losses. A world where we let ourselves feel how we feel with love and acceptance. A world where we recognize we can feel sad about the past and grateful for the present at the same time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.
There are a lot of things I want to say today. There are many things I want to talk about, but out of respect for what happened 10 years ago today, instead all I can really say is how horrible. All I can really say is my heart goes out to all of those people who lost friends and family members on September 11. But not only that, my heart goes out to all people, in all countries who have been victims of violence. Anyone who has been made to suffer at the hands of someone else. This won’t be the popular stance, but I’m also praying for the terrorists. I’m praying they’ll come to understand we are all people. We all fundamentally want the same things: love, acceptance, safety. I’m praying that those people whose hearts have been closed off due to fear and hatred will get opened. That they’ll see the error of their ways. I’m praying that people will really get just how interconnected we are and how one act of violence affects all of us and only breeds more violence. I’m praying for peace, knowing peace starts with me. I’m praying that we recognize the good in the world.
Did you know Meetup.com started because of the terrorist attacks? Here’s a letter the CEO Scott Heiferman sent a few days ago:
“Let me tell you the Meetup story. I was living a couple miles from the Twin Towers, and I was the kind of person who thought local community doesn’t matter much if we’ve got the Internet and TV. The only time I thought about my neighbors was when I hoped they wouldn’t bother me.
When the towers fell, I found myself talking to more neighbors in the days after 9/11 than ever before. People said hello to neighbors (next-door and across the city) who they’d normally ignore. People were looking after each other, helping each other, and meeting up with each other. You know, being neighborly.
A lot of people were thinking that maybe 9/11 could bring people together in a lasting way. So the idea for Meetup was born: Could we use the Internet to get off the Internet — and grow local communities?
We didn’t know if it would work. Most people thought it was a crazy idea — especially because terrorism is designed to make people distrust one another.
A small team came together, and we launched Meetup nine months after 9/11.
Today, almost 10 years and 10 million Meetuppers later, it’s working. Every day, thousands of Meetups happen. Moms Meetups, Small Business Meetups, Fitness Meetups . . . a wild variety of 100,000 Meetup Groups with not much in common — except one thing.
Every Meetup starts with people simply saying hello to neighbors. And what often happens next is still amazing to me. They grow businesses and bands together, they teach and motivate each other, they babysit each other’s kids and find other ways to work together. They have fun and find solace together. They make friends and form powerful community. It’s powerful stuff.
It’s a wonderful revolution in local community, and it’s thanks to everyone who shows up.
Meetups aren’t about 9/11, but they may not be happening if it weren’t for 9/11.
9/11 didn’t make us too scared to go outside or talk to strangers. 9/11 didn’t rip us apart. No, we’re building new community together!!!!
The towers fell, but we rise up. And we’re just getting started with these Meetups.”
Because of things like this and more, I know another world is not only possible, it’s probable.