Friday musings

Sometimes life takes us for a spin. Or two, or three.

 

A memory came back to me recently. I am at the marina. I am four or five years old. And my friend has a kite. We watch it soar up into the sky and float above us. I decide I want to hold the wooden spool it’s attached to. I want to be the one flying the kite, to know what it feels like. And as soon as I take it, as soon as I have a hold on it for a single beat, it is pulled out of my hands. And the spool drifts up and away. And we all scramble after it trying to catch it. But it’s too late. The kite flies away. Everyone yells, I know it isn’t truly my fault. The kite flies farther and farther away, unstoppable.

 

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I wanted so much to make sense of it all. I wanted to make sense of the way that life sometimes hands us something so beautiful, so perfect, only to take it away. I wanted to know that you were supposed to belong to me, and that you eventually would, forever. Are we here just to learn lessons and then die, unhappy and wishing we could have done something differently? Wishing we could have changed the way things happened. If only I hadn’t said that scary thing. If only I’d been braver, or quieter, or louder, or more fun. What would have happened then?

 

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I have spent a lot of my lifetime trying to analyze myself, to understand the way that I’m perceived, to fix it so that no one can ever say a bad thing. Think a bad thing. Think of me as anything other than beautiful and interesting and delightful and unique.

 

But everything is a mirror, and often people don’t like themselves.

 

I am certain that two pure souls can do nothing but love each other.

 

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This time, I’m not heartbroken. I feel whole, and content. I don’t feel, this time, like I lost. I don’t want to go back and do it over in the way that, reverse engineered, will make you stay. And while I wish you could sit next to me in my strength, could sit comfortably in my arms or holding my hand, I know you can’t. And I know you won’t. Maybe ever. And I am at peace.

2019

Hello after a long time of absence.

I didn’t exactly plan on staying away from the blog for this long - but here we are. Life happens. And so here I sit at the Grey Dog across the street from my apartment drinking red wine and eating fries. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it?

It has been a rough start to the year, I am not going to lie to you. I took the train back from my parents’ home upstate on the evening of the first, already struggling with a migraine that has followed me to today, the 3rd (why am I drinking wine?). And so I am down on myself because I haven’t exactly felt up to meeting my start-of-the-year work OR personal goals.. but as my brother-in-law said to me this afternoon, it is only the third. I need to calm down a little bit - this is why I have a headache in the first place.

I just want you all to know that the free time I have gained as a freelancer, I have paid for in existential crises - which is okay because I simply can’t not follow my truth, which has led me here. Freelancing/being an artist is one of the HARDEST and most testing things on this planet — we are responsible for our own schedules, our own self-worth, our own growth, our own connections and even our own health in a way that steadily employed persons simply are not. And of course I chose this life just as much as it chose me, but the pressure is enormous and the work we MUST do to overcome fear and blocks is enormous and it is a blessing that I have a good therapist (and amazing friends who talk me off of a ledge frequently).

But let’s talk a little more about how I cannot not follow my path - because that is a large part of what makes me who I am. I have never felt comfortable doing anything not 100% authentic to me. I have never felt comfortable doing that thing that some people do where they suck up to people to get them to like them. I have never been able to charm my way through a job interview. I have never been able to embrace the “fake it ‘til you make it” thing. I just am who I am and I feel what I feel. Though much more subconsciously I certainly bend to make people like me or love me a little more - and that is something I am working on. But I am drawn to people with transparent authenticity - you just know when you can trust someone fully and when they are living their truth; it’s a beautiful thing.

This path of authenticity comes naturally to me, and it is how I have felt my way through life. My intuition has always told me when things felt true or not, and the things that didn’t feel true I could never stick with for very long, even if they excited me at first. This has happened with jobs, with friends, with relationships. And it will continue happening for the rest of my life. But no matter how many times I have to leap off the edge of some scary cliff because of it, I feel fulfilled because of it.

And so - I have decided to start coaching people to do the same thing. To bravely go in the direction of their dreams, instead of staying or striving for where they feel they “should” be. I could have listened to my mother’s recommendation to work as a lawyer. But I didn't. Some people are authentically meant to be lawyers, and I wasn't. Often we feel like we can’t accomplish what it is we REALLY want - or we don’t dare to even imagine it - but I want to invite people into my space to dream as big as they can. And to understand the difficult transitions they are going through. And to bloom. No matter where in your life you are feeling stuck (your relationship or absence of it, your job, your break-up, the dreams you don’t think you could possibly achieve - or the ones that just aren’t materializing), I authentically want to (and believe I can) help you.

If you’re interested in working with me, I will have my initial curriculum ready by January 15th! Get in touch.

On jumping in - or something like that

On jumping in - or something like that

Why is it that we humans have such a hard time expressing our feelings – in the moment, as we feel them, to the people we desperately wish we could express them to?

 

I just watched a sweet Netflix movie that recently came out, To All the Boys I’ve Ever Loved. Depending on your taste it might make you want to throw up a little or feel more depressed or feel more lovey-dovey about the world. I would say that, like most romantic comedies set in high school, it made me feel lovey-dovey; a little sad when it ended. Perhaps it’s because that time in my life held a certain hopefulness in it about love; one that I find it a bit hard, sometimes, to get back in touch with. There is something so fun about sneaking around, or fantasizing about it, and having those quintessential crushes that never quite materialize but hold so much power in your heart and mind that you just KNOW if that person only somehow indirectly found out how you felt you might have a shot at a sweet, rom com-worthy romance. Right? But you would never tell them you thought they were sexy because then you would be deemed a total freak and the entire school would think you were untouchable (this extreme thought might be slightly skewed by the insular experience of boarding school..).

 

In the movie, a shy, happy-to-stay-home-and-watch-a-move-on-a-Saturday kind of girl (like me!) has a box of letters that she has written to the objects of her massive, gut-wrenching crushes over the years.. that she has of course never sent. And I will not spoil the movie for you – go watch it, it’s adorable – but basically it plays with this theme of saying how you feel; why we don’t; what the worst thing that could possibly happen might be if we did…

 

The only way that one could initiate a relationship in my high school - and I will get off of the high school theme soon - was to somehow get close to them in the sweaty mosh pit of a high school dance, rub your body up against them, and hope that they responded well. And that might lead to a hook up which might lead to a number exchange and texting and further hookups and then some semblance of a relationship - of course, I assume, with all of the lovely conversations and moments that came along with it. Anyone who went to high school with me and actually managed to pull off a relationship there is more than welcome to correct me if I am wrong. I stuck to the sidelines at high school dances and avoided boys like the black plague.

Thoughts on female power & my grandmother

Thoughts on female power & my grandmother

I never asked my grandmother what the words “powerful woman” meant to her. I suppose I never thought to. In her own way, she was as powerful as they come, a fierce independent and the matriarch of our large family. She was by no measure a modern woman: she might not have survived, with her lifestyle, as a member of my generation. My father joked, always, that she hadn’t cooked a meal for herself in her life – that, in fact, she didn’t even know how to boil water. When my sister and I (and any member of my family, or friend of hers) would visit her for cocktails or dinner at her apartment in San Francisco, she would invite us to sit around her in her living room (she always sat in the same big red chair). She would then use the little bell to the right of her chair to signal to her staff (which, in her lifetime, rotated every few years – she had high standards) that we were ready to place our drink orders. She would ring several times though the evening, when we were ready for more coca-cola (we only graduated to alcoholic drinks toward the end of our relationship, and it never felt quite right to drink with Nana), or when we’d run out of Macadamia nuts (always on her table during cocktails), or when we were ready to head into the dining room. My grandmother didn’t wash her own hair – in the style of many ladies of her generation, she got it done once a week at the hairdressers’. And, of course, she had never had a career – had never even considered having one. Each of these qualities of her life – being taken care of, really, through marriage from a young age, by her staff, her hairdresser, and surely others in the smallest of ways – were the expectations of her generation and of her social class. She was not raised to take care of herself; and yet, in so many ways, she did. And she took care of those around her as well.

Galentine's Day Celebrations

Galentine's Day Celebrations

Valentine's Day can often be a little... sad? for single ladies. Men are not taught to care as much about Valentine's Day (correct me if I'm wrong...), but when February 14th rolls around and the whole city seems to be carrying flowers that they are either about to deliver or have just received, the weight of single-dom can weigh a bit heavier than it does most days for the women who have no secret or not-so-secret admirers.

I decided last week that I am in a committed relationship with myself, meaning I am neither on the market, nor looking, nor lonely (well, everyone is lonely sometimes)... basically, I am happy - yes, happy - being perfectly single. And being in a relationship with myself means that I am taking it upon myself to celebrate myself, to lift myself up, to watch movies with myself, to go on dates with myself, to post pictures of my beautiful self on Instagram, and to buy flowers for myself (this list can be added to at any time). To be noted: people should have this relationship with themselves at all times, even when they decide they can also commit to another partner.