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.  

I am my hair.

As women, our hair is as much of our identity as our mind, our voice, our soul.  More than just a crown to cover what contains the most defining part of our personality (our brain), our hair serves as a vehicle of expression.  Whether that changes by whim or mood, hair is far more than just an accessory – it is a representation of who we are.

My hair has always been my thing, but it wasn’t until about five years ago that I experimented with it in ways I never did before.  Before then, I never realized how changeable hair could be, and upon that discovery, how fun and exhilarating it was to change it on a whim.  After all, I would often say, “Hair grows,” just like you. 

Five years ago I chopped off my hair into a super-short pixie.  Most men hated it; women loved it.  I kept the pixie for about six months until I decided I missed my long locks and realized that my thick tresses were more manageable in long form, so I began the painful process of growing it out, entering several phases of worse-than-teen-angst awkwardness. 

After that, I decided I wanted to highlight it to return to that pale, cool-toned blonde I had when I was five.  So I did.  And then I experimented with going lighter, then darker, and then back again.  Now I am closer to my natural hair color with swaths of buttery blonde highlights blended throughout.  

Fast forward to a year ago I had a far too belated discovery that my hair, which I always thought was naturally unyieldingly frizzy, was actually naturally curly when not blown out and then straightened into oblivion. I was surprised that I liked my hair in its organic state.

Congruous with undergoing a phase of embracing and discovering who I was as a single girl I found myself letting nature do its thing more often than not.  To my surprise, people responded positively to it.  Men told me it was sexy; women told me I looked like Shakira.  These were not primary reasons for rocking the curly locks, of course, especially since previously I felt that straightening my hair made me prettier (which brings to mind Beyonce's song, "Pretty Hurts"), so I won’t deny that they were comforting things to hear.  But the biggest compliment was when someone said to me, “Your curly hair is just so you,” to which I thought for a second, and said, “Yeah, you’re right – it is.”   

As I’ve grown up and undergone life changes and challenges, my curly hair has become a means for my own personal evolution, for stepping out of my shell, for revealing my vulnerability, and saying, “Here I am.  Take it or leave it.”

Downsizing - Weeding the Dandelions

Downsizing has its pros and cons.  Over the past six months I’ve gone from living in an overly abundant 3,500 square feet,  to a moderate 1,100 square feet with storage space that was more than enough for one person, and then just recently to a "cozy" 580 square feet.  Though the choice from move to move was mine, it was no less a challenge reducing my belongings scaled to 3,500 square feet down to 1,100 square feet, and even more so from 1,100 square feet to 580 square feet. (The primary reason for me quoting numbers in this case is because, let's just be real: in the case of space, size does matter.)

These subsequent reductions in space challenged my attachments to my personal possessions in a way that surprised me.  After all, I am no hoarder, or so I thought.  Growing up, I was a purger, doing “spring cleanings” twice a year, tossing books and toys that I didn’t need anymore, reducing the unnecessary clutter in my bedroom, a child's microcosm of a grownup's house.  But as you get older, get married, expand your living space, you collect things both intentionally and unintentionally: china from your great grandmother, Christmas ornaments, greeting cards both received and for future use, winter clothes/spring clothes/summer clothes, wrapping paper for every season purchased end of season from Target - you get the idea. 

Downsizing to my current living space was perhaps less emotional than my initial move, but it was no less challenging.  Because my first move was the result of leaving my marriage, packing up the pieces of my life that I decided to take along with me was extremely difficult, especially because it meant that I had to choose between X and Y, both of which were linked to memories, most of which were fond.   

So while that move involved packing stuff into boxes, the things I took and the things I left were much heavier.  And every single thing that I left or placed into those boxes bore the weight of emotion: a potpourri of guilt, abandonment, sadness, fear, and also, of course, love.

This time around, particularly because I was moving further geographically from my relationship there were still emotions involved, but because the things I was packing had since been desensitized from the first move there were less tears.  This was counter-weighted by the self-imposed reflection on, “What do you I really need?”, which of course transpired into a series of philosophical questions about materialism and connection to stuff.  And even though I’m far from a hoarder, I'll be the first to admit it: I am a member of the Finer Things Club. You're welcome for the homage to The Office.

Personally, I thought I had done a great job getting rid of precious cookbooks that I loved but had never used, clothes that I hadn’t worn in a year, serving dishes that had yet to be pulled from the above-fridge cabinet since I had moved into my apartment five months prior.  This was only confirmed by my frugal friend, who said, “That’s a good roasting pan – are you sure you want to get rid of that?”  “Yes,” I responded with the confidence of a newly minted minimalist.  "Those are good wine glasses in that box."  "Yes, I'm sure."  This was before I entered my new pint-sized apartment in the city, of course, where minimalism was no longer a more luxurious exercise, but a mandated requirement. 

There, I was faced with the dilemma of getting rid of things like camisoles - the necessary staple of every woman’s closet – of COURSE you need one in every single color and all the assorted Bell canning jars that looked so homey and chic in generously-sized cabinets and which suddenly appeared greedily plump competing for space with efficiently slender packets of beans and nuts.  And let’s not even get into the pots and pans situation or the wine-glass situation or the button collection.  And I won’t even mention the tchotchkes.   

By the time I had pared down my belongings to the bare necessities, giving away my nearly 10-year-old Cuisinart food processor (that, let’s be honest, I may have used twice a year, which was nothing that my streamlined basic Ninja couldn’t serve), those wine glasses that had to be given up for more functional drinking glasses, and unused gift boxes, et al., I felt kind of empowered by the challenge of getting rid of possessions that previously I had not been able to part with.

When I was faced with the dilemma of Do you need/use it vs. Do you like it? the plaintiff clearly won.  While my appreciation for minimalism has been developed out of sheer necessity, I now understand the greater importance of not being too attached to material things.  But perhaps even more importantly, I’ve realized that weeding out the dandelions in your life makes way for the morning glories to grow, for which morning glories need not only water and sun, but space too.   

Music Therapy

One of my favorite things to do, particularly when the weather gets balmy and breezy, is to drive around with my windows open and the stereo on full blast.  It should be noted that the image I’m trying to project here is not quite how I've painted it, because in actuality, this is one of my favorite things to do when I’m feeling not only happy and joyful, but also somber and reflective too.  But, whatever the mood is, late spring/early summer is perfect for this, and there are very few better music-listening experiences than in a car equipped with a good stereo. 

Along with the continued theme of self-soothing, music appreciation is one of the best forms of therapy, incomparable to almost nothing else, besides your best confidant, or perhaps a really great therapist.

Though I’m in a better place than I was a month ago, and therefore a markedly better place than I was several months ago, every so often I’ll take a turn and get hit by a wave of sadness or other somber emotion and wonder why.

As a result, this often cascades into a series of over-thinking and self-questioning, which I realize is "only human."  A wise friend said to me a few weeks ago as we were talking about this particular subject: “Just be gentle with yourself."  Such simple but profound advice, right?

In the race to the finish line why do we expect that if we don’t get through it in lightning speed unscathed and devoid of bumps and bruises that we’re doing it all wrong? Why does the notion of slowing the pace and taking time to tend to our wounds by not slapping a band-aid on them and instead by lapping at them to be a signal of failure?

As soon as I realized that it was okay to be gentle with myself did I realize how this approach is actually more productive than trying to race through the pain by shunning out the sorrow.  But in order to do this we need to learn to be gentle with ourselves, because for many of us being gentle with others to be much easier than being gentle with ourselves. 

Feeling a bit somber tonight, I bought myself two new albums (if you must know, The Roots’” …and then you shoot your cousin” and Lana del Rey’s “Born To Die”), had a picnic (in my car) in the park, and then drove around town with the windows down.  My emotional state matched the flickering moodiness of the albums: the perfect prescription for “being gentle with yourself” and it felt completely right. Contrary to the act of cruising around, I didn't feel the need to race through the momentary sadness or desire for brooding.  I just sat in it with my favorite friend, Music, and practiced being gentle with myself.  And, for the record, listening to a new album in the car is the perfect prescription for almost ANY state of being.  You heard it here. :-)

Learning How to Self-Soothe

“Block out the noise and refocus on what's inside of you.” 

– Russell Simmons

Lately, I’ve been thinking about self-soothing and how it functions in times of strife.  In clinical terms, self-soothing is a term generally applied to infants, such as when they learn to self-soothe rather than relying on other means to alleviate self-perceived discomfort.  But the term is applicable in adulthood too, and likewise a necessary means of working through a difficult time.

When going through a breakup, death, move (or aftermath of any of the aforementioned), we seek ways to avoid the discomfort.  After all, it is only human.  This is when the inclination to rely on things that provide instant gratification is especially tempting, and it is often because we’re looking for a distraction or, in the case of a failed relationship, a replacement, to avoid confronting and feeling the hurt and pain.  But continually searching for distraction rather than facing the pain head-on winds up being counterproductive in the end. 

The problem with the avoiding or shunning discomfort by seeking replacements or distractions is that the grief, and the residual side effects of it, may sink to the bottom but will always be there. 

Pema Chödrön says that “[t]he central question of a warrior’s training is not how we avoid uncertainty and fear but how we relate to discomfort.”  This may seem counterproductive in our LifeHacker, “4-Hour Workweek”, quick-fix culture, but by fully embracing discomfort as the natural valley of our life experience we will only then be able to fully enjoy the subsequent peaks in our life. 

I am learning that there is no way to addressing difficulty than by facing it head-on, and frankly that’s effing hard to do, because no one wants to hurt longer than they have to.  But, if we don’t walk through the rocky path of discomfort can we get to the daffodils, and lilacs, and my favorite – the peonies. Another way to look at these difficult times is to consider them to be beautiful messes and great agents of personal change and growth.  To think that a personal struggle has the potential to make us better people in the end is actually very exciting, I think.

Through these hard times, however, it is okay, and necessary to find ways to self-soothe, so long as they’re not detrimental to our being in the end.  In fact, there is no better time to learn how to self-soothe than during strife when we’re faced with the temptation of affixing a flimsy Band-Aid (Cheetos or cheap beer) to our pain and hurt. 

I’ve found the following self-soothing tactics to be great sources for personal growth during my own difficult time: 

• Giving yourself permission to be sad.  When you let go of guilt or "feeling bad" about being sad or mad, you realize how much better that makes you feel.  Self-acceptance has been an instrumental means of self-soothing for me.
• Yoga - Trite, I know, but true.
• Acupuncture (community acupuncture is incredibly affordable and if you're in Maine, Maine Center for Acupuncture is fantastic); as a side note, the needles are tiny and painless.
• Reading – I love a good self-help, but fiction has also been a great way to calm the mind.  I had admittedly not been in the right mindset for fiction these past few months but just yesterday I picked up a book I had previously started and surprised myself in getting whisked away by the pleasure of story.
• Mad Men – Like my best friend says, sometimes you need something to take your mind away, and a well-written TV show does amazing wonders for that.
• Working out, and lately weight-lifting, which releases a different kind of endorphin rush than cardio, which I’m finding myself surprised that I like so much.
• Silence – Previously undervalued for me since I love music so much, but lately I’ve realized how necessary silence is in “blocking out the noise.”
• Tedeschi Trucks Band - There is nothing more appropriate than blues rock when you're going through a beautiful mess. 

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.  

Where I've Been.

When we see new heights we want to reach, and new paths we know we must take in order to be or to become our authentic selves, and we choose to actually go for them, others don’t often understand: we are running toward something vitally important and possibly fundamentally necessary to our spiritual survival, and not running away from anything.  Whether someone is running toward something or away from something depends on vantage point and perspective.  And only the runner knows the whole story.  – The (Longest) and Most Thought-Provoking Text I’ve Ever Received

I haven’t written a post in three months and there has been a reason for that.  (The reason being a little thing called divorce.)  Today, it became official, and while the day was one full of mixed emotions, I have felt lighter and freer than I’ve felt in a long time.      

The divorce was my decision, but it was not one I made lightly.  Just as no one enters a relationship lightly, no one ever really leaves a relationship lightly either.  Though the decision to divorce ultimately becomes a black and white decision, of whether to stay together or to disband, it was especially difficult because my relationship had lots of good in it, coupled with things that were fundamentally missing, which I came to the realization that I needed.

But this post is not to talk about the whys and whats of my relationship ending, other than that I married a really wonderful person at the tender age of 21 only to realize as I blossomed and matured that we weren’t the right fit; that we were probably never the right fit as romantic partners.  That being said, I love him still and probably always will. 

Divorce is a dirty word.  It’s dirty even if over half the population gets divorced at some point in their life, but it is especially so when you've got Catholic guilt and your parents are on their first marriage of nearly 40 years and counting. 

Beyond the Dirty D, contemplating the ending of a relationship is scary and anxiety-inducing.  Factor in the dreaded thought of “what will they think of me?”, this adds a new layer of self-judgment anticipated by judgment from others.  And this is particularly overwhelming when you’re the one leaving The Nice Guy. 

Suddenly, your relationship is not about the two of you, but about other people too.  What I learned through this process is that people feel like they need to choose sides and that is because black and white is so much easier than gray.  Given that I was the one ending it, I knew that I would likely not be the side they chose.  This was something I had to face in order to make the right decision for myself.  And since I realize that we as humans navigate through life by judgment, I did not blame others for their reactions, negative or otherwise. 

 

As a wise person said to me: “people judge usually because they are afraid of manifesting the courage of the person they are judging.”  I also think that things like seeing their friend divorce makes them question their own fears and desires, which I suppose is neither here nor there.

Divorce is shitty no matter how you slice it, because of the fact that you're impacting more than just the other person being dumped.  It’s you too.  It’s your family.  It's his family.  It's your/his/both of your friends.  It's your town.  (I'm sure you've heard that James Taylor song.)  Everyone is impacted in some way by divorce because it changes things, how people view you, how people view themselves, how people view relationships and love.    

Ultimately, though, sometimes you need to break things up or break things down to build something new, to transform, to evolve, to grow.  You can’t always do this in a current relationship or situation, especially if something has always inherently been missing that over time has become an essential need that you can’t get within the relationship or situation.  And this was the case with me.  

So that's where I’ve been the past three months.  And now I’m back, starting with a brand-new chapter.

What is Happiness?

 “…It’s not what you’ve accomplished in a day,

but how the day felt.”

After reading this piece on the predictions of happiness and well-being based on Harvard’s Grant Study, I have been thinking a lot about my own happiness and life.  What makes me happy?  What makes me sad?  What’s my life purpose and am I living it? 

The Grant Study tracked hundreds of men through their life, measuring various indicators of their physical and emotional health, resulting in trends indicating certain predictors of happiness, but also provided illuminations such as that “happiness is love” and also that “what is true in one stage of a man’s life is not true in another.”  In essence, there are universal indicators of happiness and wellness across a broad spectrum, but at the same time one man’s happiness is not necessarily another man’s happiness.   

Inspired by the study, I made a list of things that make me happy and unhappy.  In doing this, I learned that what makes me happy ranges from the superficial like trying new restaurants, cooking, listening to and discovering new music, and cleaning and organizing my house, to deeper pursuits like embarking on new experiences, traveling, writing/being creative, nature, being inspired, and cultivating meaningful relationships with people.  My list of things that make me unhappy was remarkably shorter but broader, and consisted of things like being misunderstood, being fearful, not living life to the fullest or pursuing my purpose, and "wasting time."  All things that are intrinsically linked, I think. 

We all want to be happy and we all deserve to be happy, but happiness all the time cannot be a life goal, necessarily.   And since the two emotions are opposite, happiness can only be fully understood and appreciated when one has endured the pain and suffering of sadness.   It is realizing your best intended purpose – which is directly correlated with a happier more meaningful life, with some moments of sadness sprinkled in – that is perhaps where the ultimate state of bliss can be found. 

The alternative to happiness or sadness is that place of numbness in between, which is in some ways the worst place to be since it implies that we’re living in a state of fear of pursuing our best life or because we feel we don’t deserve to pursue our best life, or maybe because we've made someone else’s version of a best life to be more important than our own.

Call me crazy, but I’d rather be sad than numb.  My own personal struggles have taught me that only until we open ourselves to sadness and allow it to wash over us can we see that something needs to be fixed, adjusted, or changed.  It is in this state that a more meaningful life can be born, leading to the cultivation of a deeper state of happiness. 

And that's what I have to say about that, for now anyway.

Embracing Discomfort

In the journey of life, we all experience hard times, difficult challenges, random curveballs.  Sometimes, we try to push these hard times off, shove them aside, tuck them away, but usually, when we take this kind of approach, they inevitably reappear, the second time with a strong vengeance that is impossible to ignore.  In this case, confronting these curveballs head-on is the only way to resolve them.  The only problem with this is that this kind of confrontation requires feelings of discomfort. 

Being uncomfortable is no fun.  It hurts, it stings, it stabs.  There is a weight of dread in your tummy, an ache in your heart.  You may cry, yell, or complain, or possibly all three.  In my journey of self-discovery, I’m learning that the only way to address life’s curveball is to accept and embrace the accompanying discomfort, to walk right through it, to let it slap me in the face.

As human beings, discomfort is the complete opposite state of what we are always seeking.  After all, comfort is king.  We want to be happy and relaxed; we deserve to be happy and relaxed.  But the fact is, sometimes the only way to that ultimate state of happy and relaxed is to let discomfort whip you over and over like the biting January wind, until you’ve tackled the issue once and for all. 

 

In some cases, this kind of embracing of discomfort is the only way we’re going to fully awaken and blossom, developing a renewed acceptance and understanding for what we want and need out of life.   At least that's what I think. 

Paris in a Week - Eeek!

Next week my husband and I leave for Paris, the land of all things I love like good bread and perfume (Seriously, what else does a girl  need in life?).  And, while a part of me is obviously giddy, because Hello! I’m going to freaking PARIS!), the other part of me has actually been a bit nervous and stressed in the months leading up to the trip, worrying about all the potentials for travel delays and debacles. 

As the trip is drawing near, I’ve realized how the unknown of something – whether it be a trip or life in general – can actually be quite exciting.  Developing this perspective has allowed me to let go of the fear and worries and to just embrace the unknowns, which is really quite freeing.  Nonetheless, a little planning never hurt anyone, so I thought I’d write a little post on Paris: "The Meaning of Lunch" Way. 

Similar to my approach to life, I am equal parts spontaneous and structured, which basically implies that I like to have a plan and then have the option of rebelling against that plan if deemed appropriate.  So, in compiling my somewhat subject-to-change travel itinerary, I am opting not to do something just because it’s the It thing to do or merely to check something off a box.  (This is precisely why I’m skipping the Louvre this time, inspired partly by this great post from The Everywhereist, one of my favorite blogs, although I'm still planning on hitting the Eiffel Tower, obviously.)

Without further adieu, here are a few pearls of wisdom I've learned in my research:

1. Pack light, and ideally, take only a carry-on.  My friend strongly suggested this fine little gem from Eagle Creek, which I was fortunate enough to find brand-spanking new at a major discount through eBay; I also snagged these handy packing cubes to pack everything nice and tight.  (I am a bit OCD when it comes to packing, so I know this whole system will come in handy for future travels as well.)
2. Take a little nightcap for the red-eye.  Some suggest Excedrin PM; others suggest half an Ambien.  We'll see what I can get my hands on. 
3. Stay at an apartment instead of the local Sheraton.  Travel + Leisure did a great write-up on Airbnb.com this past spring and other people have spoken very highly of the site. I booked an adorable little apartment in Montmartre (northern Paris) through the site for ~$145/night, which includes a kitchen, a washer and drier, free WiFi, nestled in a quaint little courtyard.  It will not be as convenient as staying in a hotel perhaps, but it's quite a bit more affordable and will offer a more authentic experience living as the locals do, which for me, is in many ways more important than cookie-cutter convenience. 
4. Paris is the land of pick-pockets.  No need to stress unnecessarily, but knowledge is power, hence why I've purchased a nice little variety of "money belts," including this semi-sexy little number from Maidenform, which bonus: was only $8.  I also picked up a two-for-one around-the-neck and waist belts through Amazon too.  
5. The French don't care so much that you aren't fluent in their native tongue, only that you try.  And really, isn't that the case with, like, everything?  I picked up a lightweight pocket translator guide by the Lonely Planet and downloaded a couple apps (SayHi and iTranslate) to my iPhone, though I will likely defer to my book since I want to limit international use of my data plan. 
6. Parisians are more formal than us sloppy Americans, so no fanny packs and sweats for this sister.  Black and dark skinny jeans, cute tops, and comfortable flats will be my go-tos, which luckily isn't much of a deviation from my work attire.  Nonetheless, I created a little inspirational Pinterest board of outfit ideas.
7. Do what the French do, even if it isn't your thing.  Call me crazy, but I prefer vodka over wine, and if I were to really go out on a limb, I actually prefer cake over booze, but while in Paris I fully intend on imbibing on the local vino, especially since the table wine is supposedly far superior than some of the better wines that you can buy in the U.S.  I also fully intend on partaking in French butter, because that's also supposed to be quite special.  When in Paris, right?

A Side Dish of Inspiration

In my continued journey of learning to be, here is a little side dish of quotes that have resonated with me this week.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.

• "Life consists of rare, isolated moments of the greatest significance, and of innumerably many intervals, during which at best the silhouettes of those moments hover about us. Love, springtime, every beautiful melody, mountains, the moon, the sea – all these speak completely to the heart but once, if in fact they ever do get a chance to speak completely. For many men do not have those moments at all, and are themselves intervals and intermissions in the symphony of real life." - Friedrich Nietzsche

• "You can participate in the dance of creation and be active without attachment to outcome and without placing unreasonable demands upon the world:  Fulfill me, make me happy, make me feel safe, tell me who I am.  The world cannot give you those things, and when you no longer have such expectations, all self-created suffering comes to an end. - A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle

• "When we identify with a small self, we are perceiving ourselves as a cluster of ocean waves, not recognizing that we are made of ocean. When we realize our true self is ocean, the familiar pattern of waves—our fears and defensiveness, our wants and busyness—remains a part of us, but it does not define us." - Tara Brach

• "The next moment is always fresh and open. You don’t have to get frozen in an identity of any kind." - Pema Chodron

• “One thing we do know: Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. How do you know this is the experience you need? Because this is the experience you are having at this moment.” - A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle

• "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain

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.” 

Never Stop Growing Up.

A couple weeks ago, journalist Connie Schultz had this piece in Parade entitled “Life in the Middle Ages.”  While I have not yet approached middle age, the article resonated with me because it discussed the exciting side effect that with growing old, “[y]ou get to keep growing.”  In the article, Schultz included a passage from Gail Godwin’s The Finishing School, which was particularly moving:

          There are two kinds of people . . . One kind, you can tell just by looking at them at what  
          point they congealed into their final selves.  It might be a very nice self, but you know you
          can expect no more surprises from it.  Whereas, the other kind keeps moving, changing. 
         With these people, you can never say, “X stops here,” or “Now I know all there is to know
         about Y.”  That doesn’t mean they’re unstable.  Ah, no, far from it.  They are fluid.  
        They keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them
         young.  In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive. 

The second type of person is who I hope to always strive to be.  Never resisting change, never being stunted by some internal block, never shrugging my shoulders and saying "I am who I am" in the face of challenge with myself and others.

On some level, however, I agree with the common notion that as people get older they get stuck in their ways and become complacent.  After all, if it works and if it ain’t broke, why  fix it?  But on the other hand, just ‘cuz it "ain’t broke" doesn’t mean it couldn’t work better, and you could actually be a happier, more content person in the end. 

One of the requisites of an assistantship I got for grad school included teaching English 101 to college freshmen.  At the time, public speaking was perhaps my biggest fear in the world, which was even bigger than my fear of snakes; it was that big.  I knew that I wanted this assistantship because my M.A. would be paid for, but I also realized how good the opportunity would be for me because it would force me to overcome my fear of public speaking. 

 

In the spring and summer preceding the fall when I was slated to begin the program, I did some personal work, the first step reflecting on what the root of this fear was.  It occurred to me that a big part of it was lack of confidence, of someone making fun of me, of being rejected on some level -- all emotional things.  But the other part of it was simply not knowing how to do it.  After doing some soul-searching, I decided that counseling would be a good way to work through the issues, so I talked to someone about it (i.e., a counselor).  (For any of you on the fence about counseling, I am a big fan; just make sure to find the right one, for you.)

During the initial sessions, we talked about all the kinds of things you would imagine: my upbringing, siblings, family dynamics, my fear of public speaking and why it was so scary to me.  I only met with her a few times before our sessions turned to conversations about astrology (she saw strong Virgo tendencies in me, which was interesting) when I knew that her work with me (for the time anyway) was done.   

 

The big takeaway of my counseling sessions was not playing the victim, of not pigeon-holing myself into a static version of Sarah for years to come.  It was after the counseling that I realized how capable I was of overcoming this public speaking thing (as well as other things).  I may not like it, and it may always be stressful for me (oh, it is!), but I can learn to do it without crippling fear and I can even learn how to do it well.  Needless to say, despite the horrific nightmares the evening before, I didn’t faint the first day of teaching English 101 and actually did a decent job.  And guess what?  I’ve since touched, even held, my share of snakes too. 

It’s true that we are not completely malleable – I will always prefer to be the wallflower than the attention whore – but we all have a rather vast sliding scale of self-improvement, and oftentimes we can even surprise ourselves with the things we’re capable of.  Sometimes we set limits without even realizing it, and perhaps it’s because we’re satisfied with where we are (which is totally okay!).  But when those limits become limitations that prevent us from living the best life possible, or in some cases, even hurt the people we love, it’s worth pushing ourselves a little harder and a little faster. 

After all, we’re all capable, and more important, worthy, of change, growth, and becoming better versions of ourselves.  

Frisky Friday - A week in review.

1. I learned this week that cleaning my house on a weeknight is not only oddly rejuvinating, but it frees the weekends up for more fun things.  I am continually aiming for that perfect combination of freedom, fun, and R&R in a weekend, which is not always attainable, but by trying to squeeze in some chores during the week, I feel like I'm getting closer to that ideal. 
2. Lately I've been working on calming my food noise, a term coined by my favorite former Housewife, Bethenny Frankel.  Calming my noise means allowing myself to give into temptation a little more often, as long as I'm doing it in a moderate way.  The ultimate goal of this is to avoid a constant diet mindset.  For the past week I had been craving cheap mac & cheese, the really bad-for-you kind made with the powdered stuff, so that's what I had for din-din Tuesday night.  Yes, it was amazing as cheap mac & cheese can get, and yes, I started my day the next morning with a fresh green juice.  Life is about finding the right balance that works for you; my personal balance just happens to include mac & cheese every once in a while.
3. I was never a pedicure kind of girl, but since a nail place opened up two doors down from my work I've become a total convert.  It is like the best little indulgence $20 can buy.   OPI's "It's a Girl" is currently on my toes right now and it's the Perfect Nude Pink, IMHO.  Sexy and subtle - just the way I like it.
4. If friends are the new family I have the best family a girl could have.  Yesterday afternoon, out of the blue, my best friend sent me the sweetest email which completely melted my heart.  It reiterated the importance of these kinds of relationships and just how lucky I am to have certain people in my life. 
5. A weekend with no set schedule is one of the most underrated luxuries in life (see #1 above).  This weekend happens to be the first in several weeks where I don't have to be anywhere at any given time and I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT IT.  If all my weekends were this way I probably wouldn't be so excited, but a quiet one amidst several busy ones really is like a diamond in the rough. 
6. You know this post wouldn't be complete without a little music tidbit.  Of course, right?  Well, this week I've been really digging Booker T. Jones's Sound The Alarm.  My personal favs are "Watch You Sleeping," "Broken Heart," and "All Over The Place" - all tracks featuring some lesser known yet exceptionally talented vocalists. 

Maine Beer Company's Lunch: The Soulmate of Beer?

I visited Maine Beer Company’s (new) digs in Freeport, Maine, over the long holiday weekend and I will say that it didn’t surprise me that the brewery, which includes a bustling little tasting room, lives up to the growing reputation of its product.  Before I go too far, I should mention that I only know about craft beer by way of reading about it and taking sips from my husband’s glass.  Being the curious cat that I am, however, I find myself intrigued by the craft beer movement.

What’s intrigued me about Maine Beer Company is its entire approach to its product.  From the bottle, which is taller and more slender than a standard beer bottle and therefore more akin to a wine bottle, to the crisp and clean-like-linen label, to the slogan “Do what’s right”, Maine Beer Company is all about quality over quantity, with nothing – from taste to image -- being sacrificed.  It's apparent that the product, the beer, sells itself, which is suggested on the label as being consumed within 90 days of the "stamped born date" as "[h]oppy beers do not age well."  Lunch, Maine Beer Company’s perhaps most sought-after American IPA, receives a world-class rating of a 97 by Beer Advocate, emits a delightful aroma of citrus and pine.  And though I’m no connoisseur, it is the most delicious-smelling beer I’ve ever set my nose on.  No exaggeration. 

After visiting the birthplace of Lunch, the tasting room of which is situated in a light and airy space where you can order all MBC’s offerings as well as some interesting mashups off a chalkboard, I was struck by how the space itself was a continued reflection of the company’s product with its white-washed walls, hand-carved taps, and large picture window where you can watch beer being made as you sip an IPA born yesterday and play a little game of Jenga with your friends.  All of this is comfortably flanked between a pastoral farmhouse setting and Coastal Route 1.  Ah, Maine - the way life should be.

Like Maine Beer Company, I am a quality over quantity person.  Take a look at my friends and you will see what I mean.  They can be easily counted on two hands and are all equally incredible people: smart, interesting, wonderful, and wise.  They all happen to have superior qualities to me, which I'm well aware of, and hope that through immersion their greatness will eventually rub off on me.   

Maine Beer Company is kind of like that knock-your-socks-off person you meet who’s almost too good to be true:  Smart.  Interesting.  Deep and also funny.  Humble.  Wise.  Attractive.  Fun to be around.  Refined but not snobby.  Can be found uptown or upta camp.  And bonus!  (Also happens to be quite sexy.)  As you probably know, this is a next-to-impossible combination, though of course it does exist.  Hey, just take a look at Lunch!  But when it comes down to it, many of us are a little intimidated by that knock-your-socks-off beer, person, or thing, and instead settle for what is easy, cheap, and ubiquitous.  Though my good friends aren't easy, cheap, and ubiquitous, I happen to go for this combination in my mascara (which is usually L'Oreal Voluminous, if you really want to know.) 

Sometimes, people will go for what’s a little below them because it has the dual effect of temporarily boosting their egos while also expending no intellectual or emotional energy on their part, which is not always a bad thing, though it is usually accompanied with temporary gratification and ultimately leaves them kind of bored and under-stimulated in the end.  To get to the thing that knocks your socks off typically takes a little extra work, a bit of effort, some hustle and flow.  Take MBC’s Lunch, for example.  It can be hard to find at your typical corner store, is rather pricy at $6 a bottle, and might be confusing to the palate at first, which is why many of us go for the easy-to-get and often underwhelming Budweiser; the overrated and oversweet Pumpkinhead Ale (just because it's seasonal doesn't make it better); or PBR, the beer that everyone knows and everyone makes fun of, but will still hook up with, because hell, cheap ass is still ass.   

Though my friends would receive similar ratings to MBC’s, I actually happen to have a beer palate of a five year old, which is why you will likely find me sipping on any sudsy low-end light beer, if my preferred drink of choice -- a vodka tonic -- is not available (though if you know me really well my ultimate preference would be chocolate cake).  So, let's be real here -- who am I to write about Maine Beer Company's Lunch?  All I can say is that I know a good thing when I see it. 

Why I Like the Big K (Where Image Isn't Everything)

Despite the narrow aisles and low ceilings, constructed for a time of skinnier people and skinnier carts, Kmart feels simultaneously spacious and airy and at the same time, from a different era.  You go there not because the prices are lower (like Walmart) or for its snazzy, trendy wares (like Target); you go there because there will be no lines, no people to run into from work, but also likely no pocket-sized Pizza Hut/Dunkin’ Donuts/Starbucks (which is neither unfortunate nor fortunate, I suppose).

At Kmart, there happen to be fewer shoppers sporting SpongeBob PJ pants and slippers, screaming kids, and the current common cold du jour than the Walmarts and Dollar Trees of yore, though it is not to say that the store doesn't cater to a humble group of folk.  At my local Kmart, for example, there happens to be a high percentage of Franco-American senior citizen shoppers with their polyester pants and carts stocked with whatever cleaning products that happen to be on sale, which provide a certain familiarity because they happen to remind me of my own late Franco-American grandmother.  
 

Nevertheless, while I am never particularly jazzed by the stock of goods that Kmart has to offer (things like storage bins and shampoo always seem to be just a little inflated in price and there is no particular flashy gimmick, such as the promise of a nice stash of new Essie nail polish or trendy, one-season-only apparel freshly hung on the clearance rack), there is something warm and fuzzy about the Big K, and what can I say? I am a real sucker for the warm and fuzzy.

Typically, the soundtrack at Kmart brings me straight to the late 1980s or 1990s, playing ballads from Heart or Celine Dion or even Amy Grant (I believe "Baby Baby" happened to be playing the last time I was there), and it makes me want to head straight to the coloring book aisle and pick out a little something for my former 6-year-old self. 
 

 

In its glory days, the Kmart I used to go to was a bustling destination complete with a well-stocked music department, not to mention Walkmans galore.  But the especially exciting feature at the Kmart from way back when was its in-house cafeteria, which, if you could get past the cloud of cigarette smoke, lent a delightful little reprieve to the end or middle of the Big K shopping experience.  They had every fatty, processed, nutrient-devoid dreamboat snack you could want: hot dogs, chicken fingers, French fries, various cream pies, your standard stash of handy-sized chips, and a nice selection of fountain sodas (including, I believe, Mello Yellow).  The cafeteria abutted the hair product section, which was next to the cosmetics section, which meant that the Caboodles (remember those?) were somewhere mixed in between.  How I remember this is no matter, but I loved my Caboodles almost as much as I loved my perm. 

But back to 2013.  I found myself wandering the aisles this past Saturday, well, because I needed some laundry detergent stat and because Kmart happened to be next to the record store where I picked up some Seals & Crofts (summer is when I crave the smooth '70s tunes).  And while I was there it occurred to me how grateful I was to be able to have the freedom to aimlessly wander the aisles of Kmart on a Saturday, but also how grateful I am that there is such a place in 2013 that is neither flashy, nor hipster, nor bottom-barrel cheap, nor particularly relevant, which is, quite honestly, really refreshing.  

 

With its underwhelming aesthetic and lack of identity, Kmart is a kind of unassuming and safe haven, much like Empty Nest (that everyone used to watch but everyone apparently forgot about besides me, it seems), or maybe it’s just where I like to spend a random hour on a random Saturday afternoon, simultaneously out in the world while also away from it.  We all need a little of that in our lives, I think.

Image credit: Pinterest

From Impure Thoughts to Thoughts of Self-Acceptance

Growing up Catholic, going to confession was a regular ritual in my family.  Once a month, my mom would drag my siblings and me to a church three towns away so we could tell a priest our sins.  Truth be told, it was equal parts humiliating, cathartic, and simply a task that was part of my Catholic upbringing.  Nevertheless, I always felt better afterward, because (a) I felt that for the 15 seconds while I did my penance in the church pew I was devoid of all human sin; and/or (b) the whole thing was over until the next month; and/or (c) we typically went out to eat afterward.

The problem with confession as I saw it was that I typically wound up confessing the same slew of sins each month, particularly the personal biggie: "impure thoughts."  When I was old enough to realize that having such impure thoughts was even a sin, I asked my mother how to confess such a thing.  My mother, being the cradle Catholic/enlightened woman that she was, had the apropos response for her precocious child:  "In that case, you say that you've had 'impure thoughts.'"  I was thankful to her for giving me the perfect catch-all for such a complex-to-me-at-the-time-kind-of-sin.

Now that I'm all grown up, I know that these "impure thoughts" are simply a fact of life that can't be erased from my mind no matter how much I try.  After all, I'm a human being with a fully functioning brain and body that are intended for making babies but which serve so many other purposes.   Now I'm not ashamed for such impure thoughts that enter my mind because it reminds me that I'm alive and thriving, and that my body is as engaged as my mind, which is a beautiful, biological thing.  

Furthermore, trying to erase thoughts of any kind only increases the potential for such thoughts to squirm back in, because that's just how the mind works.  We have an uncanny way of rebelling against ourselves, don't we?  (Well, at least I do.)  While I've evolved to know that impure thoughts are natural and acceptable, there are always other things I'm working on or striving to improve, different spiritual philosophies have taught me that self-judgment does not an enlightened mind make (a Buddhist philosphy instead of a Catholic one), which in my adulthood seem so much more logical and practicable. 

Only until we accept ourselves for our various shortcomings, weaknesses, and transgressions, et al. are we more likely to find success in changing and overcoming them, because it is upon self-acceptance that achievement in overcoming shortcomings suddenly becomes wholly and truly attainable. 

Feeling guilty about our weaknesses or failings only consumes energy that could be applied to more positive areas of our life that could by default reshape our focus away from our weak areas.  Since our bodies and minds only have so much energy, as it releases from the negative to the positive these thoughts/actions happen less often or, if you're truly a saint, not at all.  (Though who wants to have no "impure thoughts" at all?  Isn't that what makes us perhaps a little more interesting and endearing? I like to think so.)

Finding Home

Why I've only gotten into the Dexter series now that it is in its final season is beyond me, but in picking Season 7 up (via Netflix) midstream I have belatedly realized all that I've been missing out on for the past seven years.  Oh, well.  Better late than never, right? 

What distinguishes the show from others is that it is both plot AND character driven, revealing a complicated protagonist, Dexter, who happens to be a symphathetic killer, since he "only" kills the bad guys.  One of my favorite aspects of the show is that we get to hear Dexter's inner monologue, at times wry and sadistic, and other times tender and thought-provoking.  According to those in the know, Dexter's emotional capacity has evolved throughout the seasons, with him revealing in Season 7 the ability to experience the depth of love in a way that he never has before.

In "Argentina," the show's aptly titled Episode 8 of Season 7, Dexter makes a poignant declaration at the end of the show about the idea of finding your own version of home in the world, where he says:

          No matter where we go, we take ourselves and our damage with us. So is
          home the place we run to or is it the place we run from? Only to hide out
          in places where we are accepted unconditionally, places that feel more like
          home to us. Because we can finally be who we are.

The statement struck a chord in me because it was not only beautifully stated, but because it rings so true.  Whether we have it, had it, or are continually searching for it, we are all always longing for that place -- whether physically or mentally -- that we can call home, that place where we can just be. 

It's a place where we are not always understood, perhaps, but where we are completely accepted, where we are free to be our sometimes silly, oddball selves, so much so that our quirks -- those so-called issues/isms/little things that we may be ashamed to share with some people -- are not only openly received, but are cherished, nurtured, and loved.  Sadly, for some, that place may never be found, but for those who've stumbled upon it, it is truly the ultimate of all places to find and to be, if you are so lucky.

And that's all for tonight.