Changes: also known as "Details in the fabric"

This past year has been a little more eventful than I typically like, mainly because I micro manage details of my life by managing my reactions to them. External factors are unavoidable, but my reaction to them are my own. Some might call it just another version of the "positive thinking" movement, but it is a little different. I know, I know, you are probably thinking that this is a brilliant way to look at life, but there is a downside to this approach: mainly that my reactions are usually tailored to the people around me: I am an expert at pretending to be fine.

The more I convince myself that I am fine, the easier it becomes to be fine when asked. But as I mentioned earlier, this past year, things have not been too fine. My reactions to these events have constituted mostly of denial, frustration and wine consumption (which is an acceptable reaction to ANY situation). Looking back, I wonder how things would have been different if I had acted sooner. When I finally did, I was not ready for the changes that would come along with my decisions, I just knew they meant I was doing the right thing.

 

Don't get me wrong, I am not scared of changes, I am mostly scared of what they bring... there is a subtle distinction there. I like to call this distinction: "details in the fabric" after one of my favorite songs. The details in the fabric remind me of everything that could possibly go wrong after a decision has been made. They remind me that a missed stich can unravel an entire outfit if snagged. They remind me that ultimately I am not in control. But beyond all that, they bring out the best in the garment, and remind me that everything will be fine.

 

Maybe, I was on the right track by striving to manage my reactions to life events. Ultimately, I can only be responsible for my actions. The main lesson here though, is for me to stop pretending that everything is fine when it is not. The details in the fabric may only be visible to me, but they are worth sharing with people around me who often go through the same struggles.

eed

Still chasing the sun

Confession: Marguerite, the sunflower, died. I killed her. I forgot to water her for a few days, and this is all it took for the life to wither out of her... I felt sad and guilty for not taking better care of her, but I justified it by telling myself that she is now in a better place... on a farm where all sunflowers go to die peacefully (somewhere in a big field of sunflowers in Yellow Springs, OH).

I was on a walk today, and the wind was blowing really hard. The sky was dark, my umbrella was at home and my raincoat in my car where it apparently belonged. I worried for a second and almost turned back. As much as I love a good storm, I don't like being in the middle of it... I like to be home, safe, and watch it from the comfort of my bed. I kept walking though, I kept walking by the river, knowing that each step I took, no matter how small would get me to my destination. 

The sun was hiding, but I kept walking, despite the clouds, despite the winds, despite the impending storm, despite the rain, despite my fear of getting drenched. 

The next step, not matter how small, no matter how hesitant, brought me closer to the sun, so I kept walking until my lunch break was over...

eed

Let it go- Part 2

For the past few months, I have been performing at a local improv theater on weekends. It has been a surprisingly freeing and creative outlet, and I know I need a different (and longer) post to talk about how improv has changed my life. 

Tonight, I just want to talk about one of the favorite lessons I have learned from improv: letting go.

If you know a little about long form improvisation, you know that the people on stage make up everything as they go. It is a great example of instantaneous creativity, where the brain and the heart meet in an amazing moment to create multiple scenes out of thin air. On stage, I get to become a devoted, yet abusing wife or a girl in an inappropriate relationship with her cousin. It is quite magical. I highly recommend it to any fellow introverts who think their words don't always matter.

I was in a scene this past week, and I was called to play a character I am not used to being. Again, if you know a little bit about improvisation, you know that the first rule is to say: "Yes, and.." , so that's what I did. I played the character and had a blast! It was very rewarding. Once I got home, though, I kept thinking about ALL the ways, I could have played that specific character better. If only, I had danced more, if only I had said more words, if only I had said this one extra line, if only I had not been afraid to BE the character. It bothered me all night. 

When I woke up the next day, I realized, that the moment was gone...It was too late. I could not go back to that night, and play it again... I had to let go of that moment. I had to let it go. It was a terrifying feeling. Yet, it felt empowering to realize that even though the moment was gone, I made the most of it. I played it in the moment, and it was time to let it go. It was a great reminder for me, because as I confessed in my last post, it it is hard for me to do that in my so called real life (Kudos to you if you caught this reference to one of the best TV shows from the 90's).

When I get on stage this coming weekend, it will be to create a new moment, a new character, a new version of me. And whatever happens, once the moment is over, I will have to let it go. 

eed

Let it go

No, this post is not about the movie, FROZEN, which I have no intention of watching at this point in my life. It is about literally letting go of something, either physically, spiritually or metaphorically speaking.

I have been having this recurring nightmare, where I am hanging on to the edge of a cliff. My hands are holding on so tight, that my knuckles turn clear. My body is tense, my muscles ache, and fear feels me up faster than a holy raft. In the dream, when I finally open up my eyes, all I see is a blue sky and fluffy clouds; instead of the dark storm I seem to be expecting my mind. Just when my shoulders are about to give in, my fingers finally open up and I wake up instantly with a deep sense of anxiety and clenched hands... 

I am not good at letting go. In fact, I tend to hang on so hard sometimes, that my fingers get all tensed up, and grasp for however long I can. My dad used to call me “The iron lady” (yes, as in Margaret Tacther) when I was younger. I was (and still to some degree still am to this day) the most stubborn child growing up. I just tend to hold on tight some things, feelings, and emotions. I am quick to forgive others, but rarely myself..

Today, I decided to let go. It was terrifying, overwhelming and exhilarating. I am not sure how I feel right now... It is quite the mixed the bag, but overall I feel terrified, overwhelmed, exhilarated.

I feel good. 

eed

One Minute More

"Take your time, don't take too long..."

- Capital Cities

Contribution

I have been thinking a lot about legacy lately... About people and the things we leave behind. Not necessarily in a morbid, but curious way.

A nineteen year old girl lost her life in a tragic and sordid accident a few months ago. I did not know her, the people we have in common had a lot to say about her. Despite such a short time on earth, her legacy was one of kindness, joy, hard-work and humility. She was loved and respected by many and her legacy lives through the impact she has made while she was here.

I tend to worry about the future a lot. About what the world has to offer. In moments like these, rather than focus on worry and linger on self pity, I now try to shift my focus on what I can offer the world, on what I can contribute to the life I have been entrusted with. This slight shift in focus brings a new level of awareness that takes me out of myself, out of my little world, to a greater sense of belonging.

Of course, I still have those moments (or days...) when worry of the future take over. But in those moments, I will remember the blond, kind, joyful and humble nineteen year old girl who lost her life; but not without contributing to her world the best way she knew how: by being herself.

eed

The things we lose

The past several years have been good to me. 

I have learned more about myself in the past couple of years than I have in my entire twenties. Somewhere along the way, I feel like I have lost something crucial and I could not put my finger on it for a long time. It was not until I stopped making excuses for myself, that I realized what was missing: it was joy. Don't get me wrong, I feel pretty happy with my life, and the wonderful people and things that fill it. I have encountered my share of amazing people and have experienced more things than a lot of people can only dream about. But I feel like my joy has left or to be exact, it has morphed into an overwhelming feeling of contentment.

Contentment, a by product of gratefulness, is a feeling that tends to linger a little too long in my life. I realize that many live long lives without getting a sense of contentment; and then there are those of us who wallow in it too long. Contentment has become a crutch for me. A crutch that gives me permission to seek out and thoroughly enjoy the status quo. There is safety in knowing what to expect the next day, there is safety in knowing which events to plan for ahead of time, there is safety in knowing that your life is moving along at its own steady pace with the occasional turbulence. 

I love storms. But mostly from the safety of my home, preferably by a window, with a a good book. In fact, it is storming as I type this words, and I am about to brew a cup of tea. I got caught in the rain today, for the first time in a long time. And I am not talking about a light drizzle; I am talking heavy rain, strong winds, thunder, lightning, and a mile back to my car. As my friend's son and I made it back to the car, he shared his laughter with me. His voice guided me through the rain, because I could barely lift my head while the rain whipped my face. It felt exhilarating! We made it back to our car's completely drenched, but the joy I felt he recounted our race to his mother is what I know is missing in my life.

In the end, I guess it is less about my daily tasks, routine and habits than it is about the attitude I have towards each. It is less chasing a fleeting sensation, than it is about cherishing precious moments. I am leaving contentment in the backseat, at least for a long while, and going back to chasing joy, wherever it may be!

And when everything else fails, sightings of dogs (preferably puppies) peeking out of car windows is ALWAYS the best way to get a fresh dose of joy. 

eed