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.  

"Being alive is a paradox."

“Being alive is a paradox, an ongoing mix of things that on the surface don’t always seem to make sense.  But voicing what doesn’t seem to make sense helps. It’s like an orchestra tuning up to play together. We have no chance of discovering the fullness of our inner music, if we don’t let the players in our hearts and minds and spirits tune.” 

– Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

In having lived in Portland now for just over three months, I have to pinch myself  every day because I love it so much – the energy, the people, the food(!), the architecture, everything.  Lately, I've been waking up at dawn to take my daily constitution (i.e., power walk) down Congress Street, to the water, back up Commercial Street, and through the West End and back to my apartment.  The sights, the sounds, the smells of the city – it’s a completely sensorial experience that makes me feel so fucking happy to be alive. 

Conversely, there are moments at the end of the day, when I'm reclined on my sofa, reading and/or listening to music, that I'll reflect on a foregone memory or experience and tears will suddenly well in my eyes.  Typically, it'll be over in a few minutes and the brush with sadness will be washed away with the tears.  This, quite ironically, makes me feel fucking alive too. And there is no shame, no guilt, because for me, it's a fleeting emotion that I clearly needed to deal with.  A big part of life is experiencing and feeling it all – the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The spontaneous tears are less frequent than they used to be, especially 6-9 months ago when all I seemed to do was cry, but they’re still there on occasion.  And it would be wrong to ignore them, to dull them somehow by distraction, or to otherwise feel guilty about feeling fleeting moments or sadness, because they’re a byproduct of an emotion that is very much alive in me. If I sanitized myself of that, I would be denying a big part of who I am and where I’m at.  

The other day I came across a Brene Brown quote that says, “We can’t selectively numb emotion. Numb the dark and you numb the light.”  I thought that was so poignant because many of us feel that in order to feel happy (the pinnacle of all emotions) we need to scrub away all sadness or all remnants of it, and that if allowing sadness to creep into our lives, there will be no room for joy or pleasure.  In actuality, it is the full range of emotions that are essential to the fabric of living an authentic life.  Diluted joy and self-convincing pleasures are not nearly as rich as the kind of joy/happiness that is felt when contrasted with sadness/anger/hurt, and all are inevitable and natural human emotions that should not be dulled or diluted. 

Sometimes crying at odd times doesn't "make sense," especially if you feel like your life is otherwise rich and full.  But it is the accepting of the paradoxes, the shades of gray, the complexities within us that provide us with the platform for growing and evolving.  By not accepting these paradoxes - these moments of unexpected tears or brushes with sudden joy and love - we are rejecting an authentic, genuine, sometimes messy life.  

Call me crazy, but a self-imposed sterile and safe life with no risk, no curiosity, no complications is inevitably a boring one.  I'll take a slightly flawed orchestra in development over an auto-tuned produced electro beat any day (though I do like my electro on occasion - but in my ears not as a metaphor to life).

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

The Bird-Hand Analogy: Which are you?

Since reading this compelling piece on the Bird-Hand relationship analogy, the premise being that in every relationship, one person is the Hand, and the other, the Bird, it has made me realize how fundamental this balance is in relationships.  According to the writer, in an ideal relationship the Hand is the provider, the one who is grounded and stable, while the Bird is the more free-spirited, adventurous one.  Hands are generally content with the simple life, while Birds are stimulated by new experiences and the possibility for adventure.  In a relationship where there are two Birds the relationship might lack stability and trust, especially if the Birds are constantly flying in different directions.  Meanwhile, if there are two Hands the whole thing can become overly routine and mundane, boring, even.  For this reason, one of each is key to a satisfying and mutual bond. 

I know, and have always, known that I – even apart from an assumed role in a relationship – am a bit of a Bird.  It’s true that I don’t jump out of planes on a regular basis, I am not a crazy party animal, and I am actually perfectly content being at home on a Friday night, but I am a Bird by way of needing my space and freedom, a steady amount of stimulation (both intellectual and physical), and new experiences and adventures.  Having enough of this all keeps me balanced and fulfilled.

Though I’ve been attracted to other Birds (obviously – Birds can be a lot of fun!), what is particularly appealing to me – and quite honestly what is best for me – is a Hand to be that stable provider that I crave and need.  In the one or two times I've dated other Birds in the past I felt I had to assume the Hand role (perhaps because I was the less flighty of the two Birds in the duo), and it made me feel like the nagging mother that I was not comfortable being.  And seriously, there is nothing worse than feeling like the mom in a romantic relationship. 

As a Bird, I pride myself in being the cool chick who encourages her man go on fishing trips with the guys and to venture off for an impromptu trip to Boston to catch a Celtics game.  Why I do this, of course, is because I want him to warrant the same kind of freedom to me.  I would not be happy otherwise.  But if he were also a Bird, I have a feeling I might not be as encouraging, because let’s just be real: two Birds don’t make a right.  On the other hand, in platonic relationships I gravitate toward other Birds, and for some reason, that dynamic works supremely well.  I love my Birdy friends!    

What’s most important about this Bird-Hand analogy is the balance that a romantic relationship requires.  Just as Birds need to fly around (some species more than others), they also need to tend to the nest, to be on the ground grabbing grub.  And when they do come around -- hopefully more often than they are flying around in the sky -- the Hand, reliable and stable as he/she may be, is there to accompany them, to listen to their ideas and dreams, to hold and take care of them.  And when the Bird gets all aflutter with either a brilliant or outlandish idea, the Hand can see the forest for the trees and either support or help bring the idea to fruition, or to say that it’s just a shitty idea, which is sometimes necessary!  Meanwhile, when a Hand gets overly consumed with all that’s practical, pragmatic, and routine, the Bird coerces the Hand to try new things, to push through its comfort zone, to fly around in the sky for a while.  In this way, the Hand needs the Bird just as much as the Bird needs the Hand, and the two together are a match made in heaven, as they say.

So, what are YOU -- the Bird or the Hand?

Secret Single Behavior

When I first heard the term Secret Single Behavior (SSB) on Sex and the City, it made me feel a little more normal in relishing in the habits that I enjoy participating in when I’m all by myself.

While my SSB changes from time to time, recent SSBs for me include coming home after work to an empty house, keeping my winter jacket on until it’s the last thing I have to take off before I slip into my PJs; going to the store for deodorant and shaving cream, then realizing how famished I am, and buying (just to be precise) five pieces of popcorn chicken and two potato wedges at the deli counter and eating them with a spork in the dark parking lot; and listening to embarrassing songs that I love on repeat, such as Level 42’s “Something About You” and Atlantic Starr's "Masterpiece." And, of course there are others that I’ll just keep to myself.

Generally, I love the pockets of time when I have the house to myself to partake in my SSB – to blast music without disrupting my husband, to make weird food concoctions for dinner, or to workout with no pants on (this last one I might actually be guilty of doing even when my husband’s around, but he doesn't seem to mind.)

But however fun and freeing it may be to have time to participate in a little SSB, there is, as with everything in life, a balance. For example, too much SSB time is actually possible I’ve learned, such as when you’re a tax-season widow. For the most part, I live tax-season (the span from January through April 15 when my husband works 65-70-hour weeks) to the fullest: I plan fun weekends with friends, I spend time working on my hobbies, I relish in “me time.” In essence, I have lots of single-girl fun during this time span, and that's not a bad thing.

But last week, to my surprise, I was caught in an unexpected I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-myself feeling, when the excitement of a dark and empty house suddenly no longer felt very exciting and when the possibilities of so many wide-open single-girl weekends began to feel a little meh. While the good of this is that loneliness makes the heart grow fonder, the bad of it is that there’s no quick fix, since April 15 is but months away.

But, as with everything, it’s awareness and acknowledgement of feelings (whether they are loneliness or sadness or mere discontent) that’s the key to addressing them, even if it means that the feeling doesn't immediately go away. And really, so what if my pie is currently a little overwhelmed by the opportunity for SSB? I think I’ll manage . . . as soon as I find my bucket list.

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!

The Art of Perfecting a Sunday

There used to be a time when I dreaded Sundays, when the somber cloud loomed over my head telling me that Monday was fast approaching, when all the day, or could be, was a preparation for the workweek ahead.  Luckily, that has since changed.  Perhaps because I now have a different perspective, or because I genuinely like my job, or because my life is so full in other ways, Sunday in all its quiet simplicity is not a day of anticipation for the next day, but instead a day to just be, and I love that.

Regardless of how my weekend preceding Sunday went – whether I embarked on some kind of adventure or just did chores – I like to ease into my Sunday without any kind of schedule or predetermined expectation.  Oftentimes that means sleeping in (which for this nerd means waking up around 6:30-7) and lounging in bed for a while.  Whatever the case, I usually wake up on Sundays in a good mood, because it means that my favorite day of the week is here.  I love lifting the blinds and taking the time to look at the sun rising against the treeline in the distance, something I seldom do during the week.

This particular Sunday morning after getting a brisk power walk in, I made my way up from my "home gym" in the basement to the sunroom where I found my husband lounging back, reading the newspaper, setting the tone for my favorite day.  Sundays are especially sacred because it’s the one day of the week that we both have the luxury to spend the entire morning together, free from distractions and other commitments.

Though I'm sweaty after my workout, there’s something rebellious about not rushing to jump into the shower as I do every other day of the week.  While I usually peel off my sports bra, I relish in hanging out and cooling down in my  workout attire for a while.  I enjoy making breakfast for my man and me, taking the time to sip tea and talk, and be in the moment.  When I do finally get into the shower, I take my time with it, and then afterward, depending on what's in store for the day, I might even slip into my PJs. 

On some Sundays, though, such as today, one of my favorite activities is going out for 'breakfast fer lunch'.  You’re thinking I should be saying brunch, I know you are.  But remember: this lass has been up since since 7 and has already eaten breakfast, so brunch simply would not qualify in this case.  Besides, the concept of brunch is so effing trendy, don't you agree?  So, breakfast fer lunch it is, around noon, at my favorite hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint.  Homemade donuts optional.

What I’ve learned is that the art of perfecting a Sunday is doing whatever it is that you want to do with NO SET SCHEDULE.  For example, today I happened to be in the mood to check out the P-Touch Labelmakers at Staples, so I did, even if I wound up not buying one because I was so overwhelmed by all the freaking options there were.  Other Sundays, I enjoy an entire day devoted to a slumber party, which I affectionately dub Slumber Party Sunday.

Generally, I enjoy making a big meal on Sundays.  Last week it was this delicious Morroccan Lentil Soup; this week it’s this Buffalo Chicken Chili.  There’s something so cozy about making a big meal that will last a few days and making the whole house smell all delicious and such.  It also makes me feel extra domesticated and wifey.  Plus, chopping vegetables and preparing food at a Sunday snail's pace is particularly peaceful and meditative.

In addition to spending the morning chillaxing and reading the Sunday paper, puttering around the house, or going into town for something spontaneous and unnecessary (like labelmakers), I generally like to carve out a little time for being creative, hence why I typically write a blog post on this day, after I’ve had a chance to unwind from the workweek and then from a typically action-packed Saturday. 

What makes Sundays so special is that they’re like the chocolate Kiss you  might find at the bottom of your purse – unexpected, sweet, and like nothing else you’d find in there.  What I mean is that Sundays are like no other day of the week.  Monday through Fridays are wrought with routine – things like working out, showering, working, post-work commitments whether they are social or of some other variety, sifting through the mail or feeding your cat all while being exhausted; Saturdays are, at least for me, typically spent either running errands and doing chores or better yet, adventuring off into the world and doing something festive and fun; and then there are Sundays: the one day that marks the end of the week, creating the only true opportunity for pause and reflection, taking it all in, and just being.

And so there you have it: the Art of Perfecting a Sunday.