New Website Alert!

I just launched a new website called a blissful interlude.  In addition to some personal musings on finding those blissful moments in life, the site features stories and profiles on folks who are making a difference in the world, however big or small.

The first story is a feature of Andrew Taylor, co-chef and co-owner of the renowned Portland, Maine restaurant, Eventide Oyster Co.

Stay up to date on new posts by subscribing to the website here, like on Facebook, and follow on Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.  New features will be posted at least once a week!

Happy reading and stay blissful!

Sarah Woehler

The New Normal

The new normal is city living.  It is ambulances screaming by at odd hours of the day, food fumes wafting through my apartment window, walking down the street for my favorite ramen.  The new normal is ocean drives and city views.  The new normal is slightly unconventional and unpredictable (therefore simultaneously scary and exciting).  The new normal is facing my fears.

The new normal didn’t happen overnight.  Instead, it crept up unexpectedly, and later than I thought it would arrive.  But I knew it had arrived when I woke up one Wednesday three weeks ago and realized the sadness had finally almost disappeared.  At first I thought it was a fluke – a day with no tears, gut-wrenching guilt, and an urge to numb my emotions with sugar-laden carbs.  But I coasted through one day, and then a second day, and then a third day without any tears, and I realized that the dawn of a new life that I had intentionally pursued and crafted – even having lived the framework of my new life for several months - had finally arrived.  

It didn't hit me like a flood or even like a wave, like the high of new love; rather, it was a sense of elevated evenness that might not have otherwise felt so remarkable if it hadn't been contrasted against months of mourning and grief.  It felt like the old (new) me was back.  

Falmouth from causeway to Mackworth Island, Maine.

It was only upon the arrival of the new normal that I  realized how much my life had changed in less than a year, the result of huge life changes that I had made in merely six months.  I had not only made the decision to get divorced, but consequently had moved to a new city and changed office locations (albeit at the same company).  Throw in a family life crisis, and frankly, it was a lot.  

And though, minus the family crisis, it was not without careful consideration that I made these decisions voluntarily.  Just the same I could have never anticipated how altogether these changes would initially wreak such havoc on my emotional (and physical) well being.  One life change can be hugely stressful, but three is triply stressful, even if they are changes intended to improve your life in some way.  But that is life, and it is these kinds of experiences that ironically make our lives feel so rich.

So, when I woke up that morning, experiencing joy and gratitude simply from the sun that was filtering through my bedroom windows, things suddenly felt new, and simultaneously normal. The new normal had finally arrived. 

It goes without saying that life is different than it was a year ago. Having once lived in a house in the country, I now live in an apartment in a city.  Having been a country club member, I am now a card-carrying Planet Fitness member.  Having had established friendships and a life in a community in which I lived for nearly 10 years, I am now in a new community making new friends.  

At the same time, my essence is still the same: I still enjoy my same morning routine of working out and eating oat bran; I still relish in me time; my heart still beats for the same kinds of passions and pleasures.  And though there are aspects that I miss from the old normal, it is the possibilities - those intangibles - in the new normal that I could never attain while remaining in the old normal, that which ultimately guided my decision-making in the end. As hard as it is (and hell, it really was so hard), sometimes you have to say goodbye to the old to usher in the new.  

How to Make a Vision Board

Despite the fact that making a Vision Board failed to show up in Esquire’s list of “84 Things a Man Should do Before He Dies” this month, and despite the fact that I am not a man – which I suppose precludes me from abiding by that list anyway – I made a Vision Board this weekend!  

While I had started the project about a month or so ago, the Vision Board was my official kickoff to a spiritual and emotional cleanse I’m going on – a two-week period of some much-needed Sarah soul searching, complete with all that self-help-y shit that I love: yoga, meditation, self-help books, and a bit of massage and acupuncture sprinkled in.  The accompanying text to my retreat is Dr. Wayne Dyer’s Change Your Thoughts – Change Your Life: Living The Wisdom of the Tao, which is a contemporary study of the 81 verses of the Tao Te Ching.  Similar to how The Power of Now reshaped my thinking, Dyer’s book is already transformative.  Take this gem, for example:

A composer once told me that the silence from which each note emerges is more important than the note itself.  He said that it’s the empty space between the notes that literally allows the music to be music—if there’s no void, there’s only continuous sound.

And also this:

Have a mind that’s willing to flow with life and be shaped by the eternal forces of the Tao.  See yourself as all of these things . . . watchful, yet relaxed and peaceful; alert, yet unhurried and confident; yielding, yet willing to be still and wait for the waters to become clear. . . . Let go of your demands and trust in the perfecting unfolding of the Tao.

How this connected to the Vision Board process is that reflecting on these passages (in addition to others) forced me to take an intuitive and relaxed approach to it.  Here are a few things I learned along the way.

My Vision Board

Develop your Vision Board in two steps.  Since I had collected my magazine clippings about month ago (a process which for me took considerable energy even though I freaking love magazines), during Step 2 I had the energy to sift through what I had previously collected and piece together the ones that had instinctive, meaning, and/or visual interest to me.  I found it interesting that the majority of the ones I had previously clipped were ones that I wound up placing on my board, which speaks to the value in trusting our instincts and intuition.  Surprisingly, some random images wound up appearing on my board, which I’m still contemplating the potential meaning of: reindeer, woman running with cheetahs, and a dog yawning while he waits for his morning coffee.  WTF, right?  Only time will tell. 

Don’t be limited by your visual attraction to an image.  My eye was attracted to lots of ocean-themed images, so much as that if I used them all, my board would’ve consisted of half an ocean.  I scaled that back intentionally to make room for other meaningful images, but nonetheless my board wound up having a strong water element.  I don’t know if that implies that I’m meant to live by the water or if there's a different meaning, but as a Piscean with traits of fluidity and mutability (as symbolized by water), these are the essence of who I am.  This, I believe, is contrasted by what I desire in a partner, hence the word "protect" in the upper left-hand corner of the board.

Listen to calming music (or nothing at all) during your Vision Board process.  I am a music junkie, but because I wanted to hear my flow during my Vision Board-ing, I chose to have contemporary pianist George Winston playing softly in the background.  If you like that sort of thing, you’ll dig him, if not, Chopin is always good or anything with an emotionally neutral sound.  

Consider layout in addition to content.  But let your intuition guide you.  I let my intuition guide where I pasted my clippings, but I was also cognizant of subject and theme.  For example, in the center I pasted a large image centering on relationships – platonic, romantic, familial, etc., but within that I placed a quote that read: “You want to reveal what life is like—to show things we may never fully understand.”  This was clearly something that resonated with me on both a philosophical and creative level.  At the core, connecting and getting to the depth of someone/something is essential to me.  I believe that this is tied to some kind of creative purpose for me.  

Let the board speak for itself and give it time for meaning to unfold.  Don’t think too much when you’re compiling because the outcome will be more surprising and illuminating than you realize.  While clearly love and relationships are important to me, it occurred to me that the kind of relationship I desire is not only one that has a strong protection foundation (vital for me), but also closeness, intimacy, and perhaps adventure.  (Case in point being the couple embracing on the motorcycle and the quote beside it that says, “Everyday will never be the same.”)

Some Vision Board experts say to hide your board away after completion, others say to hang it in a visible spot.  I've taken the latter route and have displayed it because in trusting my intuition I am confident the board is a symbol of what matters to me and what is in store.  IMHO, having the board be visible – at least temporarily – is a gentle reminder of that.    

In case you're interested in reading more about Vision Boards, I found this article by Martha Beck from O Magazine inspiring.  

Dessert Before Dinner

During the workweek, whenever I come home after work, I promptly remove my shoes, hang my purse on the closet handle and drop down my work bag, and then scurry around my apartment with my jacket on  (an important little detail) in a rush to relax.  The relaxing part often doesn’t come until two to three hours later, after I’ve worked out, darted back out to run to the grocery store, or triaged my vitamins for the next day, in other words, after I've checked a series of to-dos off my list. 

I know I’m not the only one, with obligations, responsibilities, chores and things that get in the way of that sweet spot at the end of the day when we bask in the glow of full-bellied peace and quiet.  The culmination of our days – when we finally get to that point – is not only the dessert but our sustenance too, though, so why don’t we grant ourselves a taste of that – a prelude or a snippet of this well-fed, happy-place feeling – during the day?  Why do we feel only deserve a dose of it right before drifting off to sleep or during that small sliver of time on a Sunday morning (one of my favorite sweet spots) when all the obligations of the world fall away for a quick minute? 

Rushing to relax is counter-intuitive, but it's something I do on the regular.  Why?  Because though life gets busy sometimes, I live for those moments of pure, unadulterated bliss, that cozy feeling, like a hot cup of tea in your hands but all over your body, and I want to get there as soon as I can.

Last Sunday, after a fun but bustling weekend, I found myself sprawled on my couch at noon, in my “loungewear” (who am I kidding? They’re PJs), book in hand, hot tea on coaster.  My apartment was quiet, my feet were reclined, and all of a sudden I felt my heartbeat soften to that slow thump when you’re about to drift off to sleep.  I could’ve eaten it up, that moment was so freaking delicious.  And I just sat there, fully aware, and basking in the calm emanating throughout my body and mind.  It felt incredible.

Afterward, I felt more recharged than I had been in what felt like weeks, at which point I realized how essential these isolated moments of relaxation are to our happiness and productivity too.  Why do we only grant ourselves these moments at the end of the day or end of the week?  By putting it off until every single obligation is met, all our to-dos are checked off our lists, how can we feel balanced and focused and accept and appreciate life's nuances?

Further, how can we be prepared for life's natural ebbs and flows if we're rushing through it, never taking the time to stop and take short time-outs midway through it?  And really, why must we cleanse our palates only at dusk when we’re often too tired to really taste it?

From here on, I am going to try and taste my dessert during the day, even if it’s just a bite or a nibble.  Because let’s be honest - life is too short not to eat dessert before dinner sometimes.

Thirsty Thursday Thoughts

1. After listening to Ambrosia’s “Biggest Part of Me” on XM’s ‘70s channel yesterday I realized how I own nary a single album of theirs.  (And that is odd because I am a serious smooth '70s fan.)  Needless to say, I’ve since remedied that situation.  If you're also a forgot-you-are fan, Rhino High Five has an EP containing all the heavy hitters: “Biggest Part of Me”, “How Much I Feel,” “You’re The Only Woman."  
2. As you may be aware, I’m into TED talks these days.  I just watched Meg Jay’s “30 Is Not the New 20” and got major goose bumps.  (And, it actually made me feel pretty good about some of my life choices, which was a nice little bonus.)  She doesn't have quite the finesse that Brene Brown has, but she has some great things to say, as well as some wonderful advice.  A must-see for sure.
3. I know I’m only contributing to the broken record that is the commentary on Miley Cyrus this week, but I can’t help myself.  Yes, I happen to be a fan (on one hand because the rebel in me admires a girl who doesn't give a f****, and then on the other hand, in the face of everyone criticizing her, it makes me want to stick up for her more.)  And let's be reals here: "We Can't Stop" is great pop music.  Today, my friend sent me this interesting commentary on how everybody’s missing the point that the song is actually a depressing homage to the highs and lows of drug use.  And while the interpretation is a startlingly accurate and sobering analysis of which I can't disagree with, I choose to respond to it in perhaps a more innocent way.  The lyrics that “It’s our party we can do what we want/It’s our party we can say what we want/It’s our party we can love who want” is also about living your own life, your own way, regardless of societal and peer pressures.  Though I agree that the song’s primary theme is probably about getting high on the party drug “Molly”, I think that its dual meaning is also about being true and real and honest to yourself and others, which for me is an even more universally felt and positive message.  (Although I will say, I’m quite glad to have become educated on Molly.)
4. On a semi-related note, if you aren’t reading Zen Habits then you might want to consider it.  This week, Leo Babuta had the following quote, which was about eating healthy, but which also pertains to life in general: “Be curious. . . . Let go of expectations and prejudgments.  You might find out some interesting things.”
5. Summer is ending, which is always a little bittersweet, but I ain’t gonna lie: fall fashion is the freaking best.  Bring on the sweaters, boots, and denim!

That's all for this Thirsty Thursday.  Have a lovely and relaxing Labor Day weekend!

The Vulnerability Party

Several months ago, I scribbled Brené Brown’s name on a Post-It when a friend recommended watching her Technology Entertainment and Design (TED) talk on vulnerability, but then set it aside.  About a month afterward, an interview of her appeared in O Magazine, and didn’t think much of it.  Just the other day, I was scrolling through my Pinterest feed the other day I stumbled upon a Pin of “15 TED Talks That Will Change Your Life”, clicked on it, and saw Brené Brown listed, which triggered my memory of the now crumpled-up Post-It note that is probably lost somewhere in the inner depths of my purse.

One of my new favorite evening rituals is doing the Viparita Karaniyoga pose, which is really just an exotic-sounding Indian name for lying down and elevating your legs up against the wall for 5-10 minutes.  So, the other night while I "hung out" with my legs against the wall I played Brown’s 2010 TED talk on The Power of Vulnerability from my iPad, fighting every urge to take notes as I listened and practiced my pose.  Tonight, I just finished her follow-up 2012 TED talk on Listening to Shame.  In addition to trying this yoga pose, you should listen do two more things and listen to these great talks.

 

Brown’s 2010 talk on vulnerability was particularly illuminating because for many of us vulnerability is such a pervasively felt yet feared and suppressed emotion.  Though we all have our different personalities and perspectives, we are all afraid to be vulnerable, which by many of our accounts is to appear weak, to be rejected, to be forgotten.  Brown argues that vulnerability is just the opposite, that it actually is “our most accurate measurement of courage” and that it is “the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.”  Food for thought, right?

When I think about it, I find people most endearing when they let their guard down, when they stop putting on heirs, when they reveal the side of themselves that perhaps they don’t feel brave enough to share with everyone.  When I am privy to this side of someone who is struggling with exposing this vulnerability, particularly if it’s someone I really like and admire, a part of me just wants to hug them and to tell them it’s okay, that this is a good thing.  Vulnerability is such an endearing thing on so many levels.

But perhaps why I find vulnerability so captivating in others is because though I am pretty in tune with my emotions, my sometimes reserved and shy nature can hold me back in certain situations, making it difficult for me to express my own vulnerable side too, even if I really want to reveal it.  Typically, and I think this is true of many of us, I am only capable of exposing that part of me once I’ve developed trust with a person or situation, which sometimes takes a little while (typical of the INFJ personality type). 

Looking at vulnerability as a “measurement of courage”, as Brown refers to it, shattered my preconceived notion that vulnerability is perhaps the less tender flower of the emotion family and ironically more of the iron-fisted one.  Vulnerability is actually quite strong and sexy; confident and powerful.  And, as I think about it more, Brown's argument is actually quite consistent with how I perceive the emotion expressed by other people.  For example, a man who exposes vulnerability by saying to a woman, “I really like you,” is actually a symbol of great, modern alpha strength rather than beta-male weakness, in my opinion.  Brown’s way of putting it is direct: “Vulnerability is not weakness.  And that myth is profoundly dangerous.” 

Needless to say, the Power of Vulnerability talk was powerful, especially when paired with a little bit of light yoga.  My homework going forward is to work more on accepting and becoming more comfortable with my vulnerability, and I urge you to do the same.  After all, “that’s what life is about: about daring greatly, about being in the arena.” 

Putting the Present to Practice

Now that the dust has settled after reading Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now, I thought I’d do a little follow-up post.  It is only natural for inspiration to wane after time, for us to forget the lessons we learned and to revert to old habits, but for whatever reason, this book has continued to improve my approach and my perspective on life.  Here are a few of the big takeaways that continue to have moved me:

             Time

 “Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now.” – Eckhart Tolle

I used to worry about time a lot, especially with things like life and mortality, the past and future, by anticipating and worrying about imagined future events that were completely beyond my control.  This was exhausting.  I thought that I needed to worry about the future, as if that would help prevent the things I worried about (death, catastrophic events, awkward social interactions) from happening.  It was only until I read this book that I realized that this kind of incessant worrying is completely counterproductive and unnecessary. 

Now I try not to focus on mind time, to worry less about things that are out of my control, and to not think too much about the future.  This is not to say that I don’t consider chronological time, which involves putting events on my calendar and requires some modicum of planning, but the obsession, the worry, the anxiety about the kinds of things that are completely beyond my control has been reduced drastically.  And I have to say, I feel a huge weight lifted off me.  Life really is so much more enjoyable this way, the way that it should be. 

 

 Overthinking

 “Worry pretends to be useful but serves no actual purpose.” – Eckhart Tolle

Overthinking is another issue I've always grappled with.  I am an INFJ, a Pisces, and an English major, meaning that I have all the personality traits of an overthinker.  All I did in college and grad school was read books, analyze them, and then write about them.  I used to think that being an overthinker was a good thing.  It was only when I realized that it’s actually being that is the key to enlightenment -- the opposite of thinking -- a light bulb went off.  Just the other day I was reading an interview with Singer Janelle Monae who said that “[R&B singer] Erykah Badu once told me, ‘Stay out of your mind.’  Whenever I’m anxious about something, I remember those words to anchor myself and not overthink the moment.”  It's comforting to know that some of my favorite artists struggle with this too.

 

Thinking too much zaps our energy stores (leaving less for things like creativity!), when all we have is the now, this very moment.  If we’re in our heads the whole time we’re missing out on experiencing the richness of our lives right in front of us.  Though I might be inherently prone to overthinking, I’ve learned that when I step outside my head and actually think less I’m a much happier and more content person.

 

Acceptance and Surrender

 

         “Sometimes surrender means giving up trying.” – Eckhart Tolle

So much of my life has been focused on striving, improving, and becoming that I often fail to realize that it’s okay to just accept where I’m at and be for a bit.  The cliché really is true: you have to just stop and smell those roses from time to time.  While lots of things can be achieved by being so future focused, it's easy to lose sight of basking in the glow of life as it is now.  Accepting and surrendering, that is, just letting go to whatever state you're in and not resisting where your world is at the moment, is a completely new concept for me, but it is incredibly freeing and invigorating.

Friday night I came home after work and dinner with a friend and was exhausted from a long week, so instead of resisting the urge to do nothing, I accepted it and surrendered to where I was.  I stripped out of my work clothes in the kitchen (don't judge:  you know how hot it's been!) and laid down on the floor and watched the sunset.  It sounds strange, but it was my own way of accepting and surrendering in the moment, and it was perfect.

 

Painbody

"If you are present, the painbody cannot feed anymore on your personal thoughts, or on other people's reactions." - Eckhart Tolle

Eckhart Tolle writes about this thing called the “Painbody,” which he describes as the “emotional aspect of egoic consciousness.”  (This article explains it really well.)   Painbody can be likened to an addiction to unhappiness.  While I am not fundamentally a negative person, the concept has made me more aware of how easy it is to grasp onto the negative, to latch onto thoughts that fuel negativity and dysfunction in relationships.  While we don’t like feeling pain, we are also somehow drawn to it, kind of like masochism.  By realizing the kind of actions that fuel the painbody, I have been working on my awareness of it within me, which has made me conscious of when it tries to rear its ugly head. 

The Power of Now: Who knew being present could feel so good?

I’m reticent to say a particular book has changed my life to avoid sounding overly dramatic and impressionable, but let’s just be honest here: The Power of Now blew my effing mind away. 

I have read other books that have transformed my thinking:  The War of Art, The Power of Habit, The Secret, and The Four Agreements.  And while I don’t want to discount their value, particularly since they all likewise had lasting impressions on me, The Power of Now took things to the next level for me.

With a Buddhist bent, though with no particular religious affiliation, the book deals with such themes as time (past, present, future), the true self, peace vs. pleasure, and consciousness vs. unconsciousness.  As someone who often grapples with worrying and sometimes anxiety, particularly about the unknown future, Eckhart Tolle’s words spoke to me in an extremely profound way, in a way that I’ve never heard them before – or perhaps have been open to hearing them before.  “You can always cope with the Now, but you can never cope with the future – nor do you have to.  The answer, the strength, the right action or the resource will be there when you need it, before, not after,” Tolle writes. 

While I pride myself on being a pretty good communicator (I thank my Moms for that one), I find myself in my head a lot – thinking, processing, analyzing.  (Maybe it's my INFJ/Piscean combination, who knows.)  Only until reading Pema Chodron’s teachings and then reading this book, did I realize how counterproductive that is, how unnecessary that constant thinking, processing, and analyzing actually IS to making good decisions and attaining the best, most meaningful life possible, which is what we're all striving toward, right?  While Pema Chodron’s words in her beautiful simplicity made complete sense to me, I wasn’t quite sure how to DO it, how to even begin stepping outside my mind.  Tolle put it this way:   

You are cut off from Being as long as your mind takes up all your attention.  When this happens – and it happens continuously for most people – you are not in your body. . . .  To become conscious of Being, you need to reclaim consciousness from the mind. . . . It will free vast amounts of consciousness that previously have been trapped in useless and compulsive thinking.  A very effective way of doing this is simply to take the focus of your attention away from thinking and direct it into the body, where Being can be felt in the first instance as the invisible energy field that gives life to what you perceive as the physical body. 

Since reading this one little paragraph have I been able to reduce my overthinking, by focusing what is going on at the given moment.  Here I am typing on this keyboard/sipping my tea/my legs are extended and crossed at my ankles/a cold draft is hitting my calves.  In other words, I am in the complete present – not feeling bad about some stupid comment I made to a coworker the other day, not regretting the ice cream I had last night, not worrying about making sure I work out today.  I am completely and utterly in the present, because that’s all there is – not the past, not the future, but the present. 

Even in our present lives, though, there are circumstances or situations that make us unhappy or dissatisfied.  These may be where we live, our jobs, friendships or relationships, certain addictive behaviors, and even our daily routines.  Tolle suggests that “[w]herever you are, be there totally”, but “[i]f you find you’re here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally.”  Being in the present is the knowing you have the power to change the situation and that the situation does not have power over you.   That is such a freeing concept to me:  the idea that we are as much in control of our life situation as we are our life destiny.

There’s so much more, but as with everything it's much better experienced firsthand.  Just read the book, and if you're as taken by it as I was, they even have The Power of Now Inspiration Cards!  (Totally worth it, in my humble opinion.)  I may not have it all figured out, but so long as I have the tools I’m at least partway there, right?  That's what I tell myself anyway.

What you don't know.

I read this piece on “33 Unusual Tips to Being a Better Writer” the other day and one of the suggestions was to “tell people something that nobody knows about you.”  This, of course, got me thinking and giddy.  But then I got nervous.  And then I got it excited.  And then I got nervous again. 

I am in some ways quite reserved and in other ways quite open. (Deja vu: have I written this before?)  With those who only sort of know me I am reserved.  With those who really know me, well, I’m quite open.  Perhaps not ironically, when I write I turn to that really open self, so much so that I usually have someone read my stuff before I post it on my blog.  This is typically my husband, who happens to be both my biggest fan and my biggest critic.  He will sometimes say, “Yeah...you should probably remove the line where you talk about…” and then I either remove it, or not.  Basically, he will tell me if I’ve pushed the envelope too far, which is not uncommon.  This is a good thing, though I’m already pretty certain that my in-laws no longer think I’m the pure, little, delicate flower they once thought I was, although I still am a flower.  (I like to think so anyway.)

The truth is that it’s really difficult to be equal parts reserved and blatantly honest in a world that expects you to be either black or white.  If I’m in reserved mode will I shock someone if I accidentally make an inappropriate joke, if I say something off-color?  Or do I just bite my lip the whole time and listen to what everyone around me is saying, making witty responses in my head?  At a conference last year a fella kept trying to get me to say a swear word as if I’ve never sworn before.  My internal response was, What the H?!  I swear as much as the next gal – you just have to get me in the right mood.  But of course, I relented, even if it felt contrived to say something just because some guy was asking me to.  To say the eff word when someone asks you to just feels dirty.  But I guess that’s okay.  I don’t mind dirty every now and again.

What I’ve learned is that when I’m open, honest Sarah out in the world (that is the Sarah I happen to be most familiar with), I’ve realized that I suddenly become popular, a phenomenon that makes me equal parts uncomfortable and empowered.  (But alas, this going-against-the-grain thing all the time can get tiring, so I've found myself rolling wit it.)

Being yourself, whatever that may be – reserved, open, or in between – is the state where we're most happy and content, and that is important when you’re out there in the world, as much as when you’re eating Chinese food and talking about sex with your bestie.  For me, open, honest Sarah is actually the true Sarah – the Sarah I’ve always known.  Reserved Sarah is what I am when I’m perhaps not feeling entirely comfortable, which translates to a certain amount of inauthenticity for me.  And no one wants to feel inauthentic. 

I feel.  I am curious.  I am passionate.  I like getting to the nitty gritty.  I am both a rule breaker and a nerd, and I happen to like it that way. 

Depending on who you are, maybe you already know this, maybe you don’t.  But either way, you may not even care, and that is totally okay.

Learning how to "do what you love."

When I was little I was obsessed with swimming, and every opportunity I got I wanted to be in the water.  Because of this, every body of water that I saw – be it a stream, pond, lake, or someone else’s pool – I did whatever I could to find a way to swim in it.  One time, when I was barely six years old, my parents rented a cabin on a lake, and I swam as far out as I could and almost drowned.  Despite this, I still wanted to swim every chance I got.  Swimming was the thing that I loved to do as a kid, no matter how inconvenient it was, or no matter how yucky it made my hair.

As an adult, as I’m sure you can probably agree, the things I SHOULD do often overshadows the things I LOVE to do.  This is in part because there is often guilt associated with partaking in what's indulgently pleasurable because “time is money” and there is always money to be made.  And the reality is that at the end of a long day we are often too tired to devote to the things, these pursuits, that we love. 

 

 

But why do we save our most cherished hobbies and pursuits – those things that give us the ultimate enjoyment and happiness – as something that can be partaken only AFTER we’ve accomplished everything that needs to be done, when we are often so depleted that we no longer have the energy to truly enjoy them?  Why do we always feel we need to earn it, to “save the best for last”? 

Instead, we seek instant gratification by distracting ourselves from what we should be doing, by scanning through our Facebook newsfeeds, clicking for inspiration in Google Reader, getting excited for 10 a.m. because that means we can have a snack!   It is not to say that these distractions are bad.  In some ways these little distractions force us to find the simple pleasures in a day consumed with obligations, complex business matters, serious adult stuff.  It’s our way of seeking mini escapes through it all, even if the escapes we’re seeking wind up not being that gratifying, because what we’d rather be doing, or looking forward to doing, are the things we truly love – the grown-up version of finding a swimming hole to jump into.  And the sad thing is that so often do we forget to realize that the things we truly love are actually GOOD for us in the end.

This past week I spontaneously booked a massage, something I so enjoy but do so infrequently (like once or twice a year infrequently).  It felt indulgent and special and oddly naughty to be getting something that I hadn’t planned out in advance, but the payoff was great – I felt more relaxed than I had felt in months and the almost daily headaches I had been getting for the previous few weeks suddenly disappeared. 

 

We’re always telling ourselves that life is short, because it is, no doubt, and therefore understandably consumed with necessary obligations to achieve the life we want, but why don’t we adjust to life’s brevity by placing equal importance on carving out time to do what we love as we do with those practical obligations?  I can't say I have the answer to that, but I do know I'm going to work on learning to include more of what I love in my daily life.

Susan Sontag on love.

Today is Valentine's Day, and however overrated and commercial that it may be, it's still nice that there's an entire day devoted to love -- romantic or otherwise.  Besides, what other day can you munch on Conversation Hearts to your heart's content? 

The other day Brain Pickings featured Susan Sontag's beautiful reflections on love as illustrated by Wendy MacNaughton, which I thought would be apropos to share today.

Happy Valentine's Day, friends!

Who inspires you?

This Chelsea Fagan chick writes so well I could eat her brain. 

I very recently stumbled upon this blog featuring posts by a suite of different bloggers, and every post that catches my eye just so happens to be written by her.  Not only is she the kind of writer that turns me into a melting pot of envy and admiration, but her subject matter always strikes a chord in me, leaving me with chills and goose bumps and just plain old-fashioned awe. 

Though I'm a bit of a hack compared to someone like her, I hope, as with reading the work of any great writer, that reading her posts makes me a better writer too.  Regardless, though, I know that being subjected to her voice gives me the opportunity to think in a completely new and fresh way about the very same topics that I often think about and grapple with too. 

While I always feel a little envy when discovering someone who is so much better than I am at something, I love how inspired it makes me feel, and how effing lucky, to have discovered some piece of art that enlightens me in such a manner, and more importantly how it makes me a better person on however minute a level. 

How lucky are we to know that we are capable of personal growth at every corner we stumble upon, not only through life's unpredictable challenges but also through the basic appreciation of someone else’s creative work? 

Quiet, please!

If you’re looking for a good book to read, I highly suggest checking out Susan Cain’s Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking.  (As an introvert, I ironically can’t find myself able to stop talking about this book.)  Whether or not you’re an introvert I can assure you that you'll find the book riveting, especially since, well, approximately one-third of people are considered introverts. 

In her book, Cain writes:  
 

The highly sensitive [introverted] tend to be philosophical or spiritual in their orientation, rather than materialistic or hedonistic. They dislike small talk. They often describe themselves as creative or intuitive. They dream vividly, and can often recall their dreams the next day. They love music, nature, art, physical beauty. They feel exceptionally strong emotions--sometimes acute bouts of joy, but also sorrow, melancholy, and fear. Highly sensitive people also process information about their environments--both physical and emotional--unusually deeply. They tend to notice subtleties that others miss--another person's shift in mood, say, or a lightbulb burning a touch too brightly.

When I read this, I got shivers down my spine because in describing introverts in general, Cain happened to be describing me in a nutshell, an INFJ through and through.   In a culture where extroverts are the cool kids, there have always a negative stigma associated with introverts.  Even merely making the admission that you were introvert was analogous to declaring that you were an awkward freak who hates people.  What is groundbreaking about Quiet is that it dispels the myth surrounding the introverted personality type, that introverts actually possess attributes that make them valuable team players in the workplace; thoughtful and caring partners and friends; and focused, creative innovators. 

 

While introverts prefer one-on-one interaction to socializing in big groups, Cain writes that many introverts can “pretend extroversion” when they need to, something that I find myself doing in certain social and work situations where a more outgoing persona of me is demanded.  While being extroverted is admittedly out of my comfort zone, in order to be successful in different arenas in life "pretending extroversion" is something I have accepted I need to do.  Apparently, though, this is something that is challenging for introverts, Cain says, especially because many have an inherent, almost ethical need to “be themselves” in all situations.  I agree with this assertion, for it was only until I realized that tapping into the sometimes silly, free-spirited side that I exhibit with those who know me well made it feel more genuine to display a more outgoing version of myself when I’m out and about and in a situation where I need to play the cool kid.  Probably one of the best pieces of advice in learning how to open up in groups is these words from my husband: “Just be yourself and they’ll love you.”  While really such basic words of advice, for an introvert this is not always second nature, which is why I continue to consciously refer to it whenever I need to push myself out of my natural comfort zone. 

Quiet discussed not only the distinctions between introverts and extroverts and the varying strengths and weaknesses between both types, but also analyzed studies relating to introversion, in particular, such as common physical traits of introverts and how in Asian cultures introversion is actually prized more than extroversion.  Interestingly, according to one study, men are actually more attracted to introverted women, who statistically are fair-haired and blue-eyed, because they are more sensitive and maternal, which makes them perceptibly better mates for men.   (Hey, what are you gonna do?)  Perhaps more important, though, was the book’s overarching theme in rebuking the notion “of introversion as something that needs to be cured” and that “[the] trick for introverts is to honor their own styles instead of allowing themselves to be swept up by prevailing norms.” 
 

Major lesson learned from this book? If you happen to be an introvert, be “in” and proud!

The Fine Line Between Monotony and Routine

There is a fine line between monotony and routine, I believe.  On the one hand, to be successful at whatever it is you want to accomplish in life, some element of routine is necessary -- be it achieving success in your career, maintaining your physique, or being a good partner or parent.  But when routine starts to cross over into monotony, it's time to take reflect on whether the routine for this or that is still working. 

This happens to me every so often with my various routines, whether it be with my workout regimen, my post-work routine, or other rituals and habits.  Recently, I thought about whether I wanted to continue waking up at 5:30 a.m. to workout.  Getting up so early was beginning to feel restrictive, monotonous, and just plain annoying.  There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to be, and having to be in bed by 9 p.m. so I could wake up so early to work out felt like it was getting in the way.  So I did what I do when things are dragging me down and took a couple days off so I could step back from my routine, something I've done pretty consistently since college.  When I thought about other alternatives, such as working out after work, when I generally have plans with friends, appointments, or just want to relax, I soon realized that trying to squeeze in an evening workout simply wouldn't happen because something would always be in the way, and then I'd be a miserable, out-of-shape little bitch.

My friend Carrie posted this on my Facebook wall a little while ago, knowing me all too well. 

 
But of course I had to give myself the chance to think about other possibilities, to have the freedom to choose (because I like my freedom!), at which point I realized that getting up early to workout -- something which provides me a lot of mental and physical satisfaction -- simply works for me.  The good of all this is that my pondering led me to make one little tweak: I reset my alarm clock from 5:30 to 5:45 a.m., a simple change in routine that added 15 minutes to my sleepy time.

I have said before that something I've been learning along the way is that my perspective is always evolving, resulting in sometimes changed opinions about things, which is why I think it's important to always be reflecting on what we want (and need) out of life at every given moment.  Is my routine actually leading me to a more rewarding, happy life, or has it become just an obligation that's leading me to no man's land? 

Sometimes our self-imposed schedules can get in the way of our goals, and ultimately our success in life.  For me, I believe the ultimate success is being in the present and living each day to the fullest.  Since the ultimate intent of a routine is to ideally help us attain our goals, they should not dictate the way we lead our lives, or more importantly, be the crux of a monotonous, boring life.  Instead, they should be the ingredient to a really great, full-bodied life.  Don't you agree?

In Sarah style, I'll end with a quote from Rilke which I read the other day in Letters on Life, a quote quite apropos for this subject: "You have to live life to the limit, not according to each day but according to its depth."  Perhaps easier said than done, but an enlightening perspective on achieving the good life.

For the Introverts.

Someone posted this charming little graphic on 10 Steps to Care for Introverts on Facebook today, and I couldn't help but share it here.  While I can only speak for myself, I daresay that each one of these little steps is pretty much how most introverts want and need to be treated.  (Friends and family, take note.) 

Credit: Hamncheezer, Tumbler

Bill Cunningham's New York: Just watch this documentary already

“He who seeks beauty will find it.” – Bill Cunningham, Fashion Photographer for the New York Times

This past Sunday I watched Bill Cunningham’s New York, a documentary 10 years in the making, directed by Richard Press.  I am going to do this documentary no justice by trying how to articulate how moving it was, about how carefully the film seemed to capture the essence of who Cunningham is – as a person, a photographer, a New Yorker, and an American icon. Please just watch it, for heaven’s sake. Even if you have no interest in fashion, New York, American culture, or documentaries, you will inevitably be moved by this film, because ultimately, the aforementioned subjects are not what the film is about. It is instead about an 80-something-year-old with the kind of soul you see in so few people; about a man who withholds the kind of rare combination of talent, focus, tenacity, and humility while all the while being sweet, kind, and funny.  More importantly, the film is about a gentleman who leads such a sparse, simplistic life despite living amongst a culture of indulgence and excess, and rather than judging that life of excess in order to separate himself from it, he basks in it like the most courteous of voyeurs merely through the lens of his point-and-shoot camera.

Cunningham's irony is striking because, while uber-passionate about fashion, he dons the same uniform everyday: a basic blue coat, chinos, and a button-down or a suit if he has to attend an event. For dozens of years, he lived in a one-room apartment containing dozens of file cabinets, a couple outfits on wire hangers, and a twin-size mattress atop his filing cabinets.  Luckily, he had a communal bathroom down the hall.

Bill Cunningham is the ultimate ascetic -- a man who doesn’t have time for fancy fare and who hand patches the holes in his  poncho with electric tape. He has lived a solitary life despite being around people all the time, capturing urbanites in fashiony getup on the city streets.  When filmmaker Press asks if he had ever been in a romantic relationship and then baited about his sexual orientation, Cunningham responds that he has never having been in such a relationship. “I didn’t have time for relationships,” he says.

This fact alone demonstrates how unique his disposition on life is. Romantic love, desire, to be wanted seems to be such a basic, fundamental human need. I cannot imagine a life with that feeling, that impetus. And, I don't think that I'm alone in suggesting that most of us would feel less human if such a feeling or need didn’t exist, but just the same, I consider those who appear not to be controlled by that need to be in some ways more evolved than the rest of us.

Even though Cunningham leads such an ascetic life, he is remarkably courteous and good natured, calling the people around him “kids” and “lumberjacks.” Most illuminating about Cunningham is his lack of egocentrism for someone so talented, focused, and well respected in the fashion and journalistic community. In a world where egomaniacs rule – especially those who are deemed successful by society – I am always most touched by someone who is able to maintain a sense of humility in the face of great achievement. That can be no easy feat.

A particularly moving part of the film was when when Press asks, “Does religion play an important role in your life?” Cunningham hangs his head quietly, responding that religion has always been very important in his life. As someone who was raised Catholic (although I don’t practice religion now) I am always interested in how people of the world – you know, grownups with careers, fully shaped personalities and interests, and a working knowledge of science and society, can have such blind faith or perhaps, such a devotion to religion. And while I think spirituality is certainly a need for many of us, what is particularly intriguing is that someone as seemingly evolved and worldly as Cunningham – who, despite his entire sphere revolving amidst the avante garde fashion universe, admits to such consistently conservative religious practices. While much of it may have to do with his ascetic approach to life, and because he’s a product of his generation, it is nevertheless an interesting dichotomy.

I think the best documentaries tear away the layers of the onion piece by piece the way that Bill Cunningham’s New York did. Those are my favorite kinds.  Other personal favorites have been Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work and Capturing the Friedmans.  As these films reveal, much like in real life, no one is completely what they seem, even if they make every effort to share to the world that they are inside. Just the same, none of us are black and white.

Humble Review: The War of Art

I just read this phenomenal book called The War of Art , which I find myself recommending to anyone I know who has felt any kind of calling (be it mastering capoeira, penning your first novel, name the craft here: ___________). I first heard about it by way of this article I read about my girl crush, Esperanza Spalding . If she was moved by it, I knew I probably would be too.

So, while still in the midst of a certain nameless tome that was well-written but which was losing my interest, I stopped midway and picked up Steven Pressfield’s book. My only regret was that I purchased the Nook version (and while I have surprised myself in enjoying the convenience of an eReader), this is the kind of book I strongly recommend buying in hardcopy format, because if you’re like me, you’re going to want to dog-ear and highlight the bejesus out of it.  (Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm a pathetic sap who loves self-help books.)

While Pressfield’s main craft is novel writing (he has published numerous books, including, among others, The Legend of Bagger Vance), the overall theme of this particular book is to “overcome Resistance” in pursuit of “the unlived life within,” which is applicable to any sort of craft or pursuit. This thing called Resistance rises in the face of any kind of achievement we’re striving toward and it consistently and unabashedly tries to prevent us from working toward these goals. Pressfield says of the evil-force of Resistance, though, that it “is directly proportional to love. If you’re feeling massive Resistance, the good news is, it means there’s tremendous love there too. If you didn’t love the project that is terrifying you, you wouldn’t feel anything. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference.”

On a personal level, I was particularly struck by one passage where Pressfield talks about experiencing nervousness before embarking on one's craft. This happens to me pretty much every time I sit down to write, and I used to think: What the hell is wrong with me? I’m doing something I love here. Shouldn’t I feel drunken relaxed and swimming in confidence?  (I admire you if you're one of those people who is drunken relaxed and self-confident all the time -- but I can't relate.)  To my surprise, Pressfield says that such jitters are actually a good thing and that these feelings are normal. He writes:

                   The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is   

                   scared to death. . . . The more scared we are of a work or calling,  

                   the more sure we can be that we have to do it. . . . Fear doesn’t go

                   away.

                  The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which

                 dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day. . . . The more

                 you love your art/calling/enterprise, the more important its

                 accomplishment to the evolution of your soul, the more you will fear it

                 and the more Resistance you will experience facing it.

Now I no longer feel like such a freak. These feelings are normal, and they are clearly not a bad thing. When we’re participating in something we love so passionately, it can feel overwhelming and nervewracking, although hopefully not so much that it is paralyzing. Admittedly, as a Type A perfectionist, the pressure I feel to make things just so the first time around can sometimes paralyze me a bit.  While this is something I acknowledge and am continually working on, what I've learned is that with creative pursuits, in particular, the attainment of “perfection” can be better achieved through consistency, which is why you'll see that some of my blog posts seriously flawed and riddled with typos and misquotes. After all, being 110% is not what creativity is all about, right?

Another interesting aspect about Pressfield's approach to the craft is his emphasis on the importance of spirituality in relation to the craft.  Though he is not necessarily a religious man, he openly admits that he is a spiritual one, and writes about the necessity in calling upon such spiritual forces when embarking on your craft. I found this intriguing, because, while I don't "call upon spiritual forces" before I sit down to write, I have always believed that creative endeavors were synergistically spiritual. Spirituality is broad and open-ended, in that sense.

To get to the root of self, beyond the ego is, in essence a spiritual pursuit. Personally, I feel a sense of spiritual enlightenment when I’m writing, or practicing yoga, or taking a walk through the woods. In his book, Pressfield explains that in order to get beyond the ego and to the self, a recognition of – although not dwelling on – spiritual forces is important. Whether you are spiritual or not, I thought this was a point worth contemplating.

If you are like me, who simply likes to be inspired and to be given the opportunity to look at things from a different perspective, this short, 166-pager is more than worth a read.  And I would even venture to say -- corny as it sounds -- that the book might even be a life-changer. 

Image: Pinterest

The Dichotomy Between Work Self and Non-Work Self

I think it’s true that many of us have two sides to us.  In my professional work life, I know that my colleagues perceive me as a super serious goodie goodie who colors in the lines and plays well with others, and well, yes, that’s mostly true.  I kid you not when a few months ago, while trying to figure out a glitch in a Word document that was causing frustration for an administrative assistant and me, I said the word, “Shit.”  Yes, a cuss word, at work.  She looked at me, grinning with raised eyebrows and marveled, “You just said shit!”  I nodded and laughed, “Yeah, I swear sometimes.”  She loved it.  Of course she loved it!  Everyone loves someone who’s fun and a little crazy and free.  Though I sometimes wish it were, that’s just not the persona I am comfortable projecting at work. 

For the most part, I don’t mix business with pleasure.  For example, when I’m traveling for business, I seldom drink with the client, I wake up early so I can work out at the hotel gym, and I take vicious notes at meetings only to transcribe them later in my hotel room.  It’s not that I want to be so serious – I just figure if I’m getting paid to work, I should be working, not having fun, even if I want to be. 

While outside of work I am not a completely different person – don’t get it twisted – I’m still the girl at the grocery store at 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday armed with coupons, I am vehemently opposed to drugs, and I am not a weekly drinker (although I do enjoy a vodka and seltzer on occasion), a much less straight-laced persona shines through.  I enjoy listening to music at a high decibel, including hip hop laced with expletives or soul music with nasty lyrics.  I’ve been known to have a bit of a lead foot; I can do dangerous things at intersections.  And, believe it or not, I am kind of the ham in my family.

My best friend jokingly called me “Saucy Bear” the other day when I suggested she take a shortcut by taking an entrance into a posted exit.  I retorted, calling her “Cautious Bear."  Let’s also not forget that I have a degree in English – with a concentration in Creative Writing – one of the most impractical and joked about college majors in NPR history.  My favorite three movies are pretty bad ass: Eyes Wide Shut, Scarface, and American Psycho.  And well, there are other things, but they’re not really appropriate for this blog.  Yes, this shy girl does have a bit of a wild streak. 

So while I even find myself to be a bit of a bore at work, what I find really boring is someone who is flat, predictable, black and white, and has the same depth no matter where you prick them.  While many people aren’t that way once you peel back the layers, I think it’s the quiet, serious, or seemingly conservative ones who get an especially bad rap, because their spiciness is undoubtedly there, you just have to dig a little deeper to find it. 

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Does Haste Really Make Waste? (The Anatomy of a Rusher.)

I have a confession, if you don't already know: I have a tendency to rush through creative time.  I’ve blogged about the whole journey vs. destiny thing before, but because it’s something I continually struggle with, I am compelled to write about it again. It’s not a New Year’s resolution to work on rushing less (more of a lifetime personal goal to work on), because as you know I am not a big believer in setting these kinds of January resolutions, and instead aim for more realistic ones; however, I think my rushing gets the best of me sometimes, and the worst of me, I suppose (but that’s for another day and time).

My rushing is particularly evident when I’m blogging, which for me is my creative time, my soul time. I write fast and swift because I want to get it all out there before I lose my train of thought or run out of the limited time and energy I have for such precious pursuits. While I am a perfectionist in many ways, in this situation my rushing takes precedence over my perfection. The mantra I tell myself is: if I have to choose between Consistency (albeit with flaws) or Inconsistency (with perfection), I’ll take the Consistency because otherwise the writing might not happen as regularly, or at all, even. 

But sometimes when I go back and read my blogs there are spelling errors and punctuation blunders. And, in many cases, I find my blog entries to be harried sounding and rushed. In my constant attainment of both consistency and perfection, this bothers me, because my blog entries wind up not being representative of my best writing, and as someone who has two degrees in English, my writing is something I have a bit of pride about.  In that sense, I feel like I'm shortchanging myself.

But then when I reflect more on it, I realize that it's an okay thing if not every blog entry is a masterpiece.  After all, isn't the original definition of a blog to be a "web-based log," a journal of sorts? More importantly, if I had to choose (and sometimes in life we do have to choose), I’d rather have some kind of voice (even if it's a sometimes inarticulate, fast-talking one at times) as opposed to no voice at all. 

We all have a voice, and we need to be able to use it.