whose life can you change today?

As I was flipping through radio stations this morning, I happened to stop on a country station that was an interview with Gary Allen. He was telling the story of when he signed his first record label. I missed the beginning part of the story but from what I surmised, he was living in LA and working at a car dealership. He happened to slip one of his demo CD’s into a truck he sold and within a couple of weeks the couple who bought the truck came back and asked who was messing up his song. The song he had left in the truck was a cover of a popular Neil McCoy radio hit. They got to talking and the couple learned of his dream to go to Nashville and record an album in order to get a record deal. Without hesitation they asked how much he would need to do that and he estimated between $10,000-$12,000.  Right there they wrote him a check for $12,000 and told him to go after his dream. He tried giving it back but they said it wasn’t much money to them and if it could change his life, he should take it and no worries about paying them back. Well, wouldn’t you know…within 6 months he had signed a record label and was not only able to pay them back in full but paid them interest!

I was really moved by this story and thought these are the newsworthy things that we should be talking about! This couple had it right. Not all of us have $12,000 lying around to give away but we do all have something that can change someone’s life. Even if it’s “just” a smile.

Challenges or Opportunities?

"My experience of life reflects where I focus my attention and energy."

Increasingly it seems I am hearing of hardships, illnesses, and a never-ending list of life struggles. I keep hearing people ask if life is supposed to be this hard. At times I’ve wondered the same thing. We are all dealing with something but whether we marinate in it, ignore it, trudge through, or acknowledge it with our chin up is entirely up to us.

***

Around the house, my dad is a man of very few words. I learned from a young age that when he does speak it’s because he has something worthwhile to say and that it was energy well spent to soak up his words. He has often said that people talk on and on about all the tragedies in the world and how ugly the world is and that he didn’t understand because the world is so beautiful. Not once have I heard my dad complain of anything – not when he’s sick, not when he’s tired, not when life isn’t fair. Asked how he’s doing and he always says some version of “wonderful” with a twinkle in his eyes.

***

I think of this wisdom often now as I recognize that the life we create is of our own doing. None of us can escape heartache. None of us can escape tragedy. None of us have an “easy” path. The struggles are different and sometimes others’ lives look more appealing but no one really knows what it’s like to be in another’s shoes -- we only see the superficial outer layers of other people. We don't see the energy, dedication, and perseverance it has taken to be/have whatever it is we see. It is decisions and commitment to those decisions and how we respond to life's challenges that shape who we are as an individual. Those choices shape who we are and that is who we become. It’s both empowering and scary. But it’s pretty cool that at some point we get to pick that the shape of our lives is entirely up to us. A great reminder someone recently said to me is that challenges are actually opportunities. I love this and it has become a bit of a mantra for me.  When things aren’t ideal (whether you’re ill, financially strapped, heartbroken, uncertain, insert struggle here), what opportunity could this be presenting? How can we respond differently? Because every time we respond to these challenges, ahem – opportunities, and see them as opportunities, we are shaping a pretty cool outlook.

What kind of person did you want to be when you were little? What things excited you? What did you love doing? How did you imagine yourself? I think back to when I was little a lot – I think it’s the truest version of me before I became a little guarded, a little insecure, and trying to guess what would be the “right” thing. Finding that little girl’s knowledge of who I am brings me back to a track that feels right – it’s a track that doesn’t really care if others think it’s weird I’d rather stay in on a Friday night with my cats and a book, it’s a track that isn’t afraid to say I’m a little bit nervous and unsure, and most importantly it’s a track that allows me to be straightforward about who I am and where I am and that makes me completely happy and completely free.

***

It seems I’ve come full circle to discover what my dad has always said. Smiling is a choice and so are tears. If you need to cry for a day, do it but don’t get stuck there. Life is too short. I choose beauty because my dad was right. Life is beautiful and I want my eyes to twinkle like his. 

Mortality

Sometimes strong emotions hit me and my mind spins about life, mortality, love, loss, and my place in it all. Death is one of those non-negotiables that can be really hard to accept. Some seem to be more at peace with it than others. I am the person who thinks of it often, perhaps because I desire to come to more of an understanding and peace with it but sometimes because of the common feeling of alone-ness and a fear of that lasting. I want my life to count.

It’s these times I find myself drawn to a swingset, a hard run, nature, or some animal love. I adore my cats but dependent on their mood, I can’t always count on them to give me a cuddle session.  So if my cats are feeling particularly independent and I’m in need of a good animal hug, I head to my sister’s house to see her dog Scotch.

***

I can’t mention Scotch without mentioning his brother Nick. Several months ago, after several years of health struggles, it was time for us to say goodbye to Nick. Since then I’ve had trouble accepting that I won’t be able to pet his soft black hair again. In fact, when I say I go to my sister’s house to see her dog Scotch, I really mean I go to her house to see Nick and Scotch. They were together from the moment they were born and are more two dogs in one than two separate dogs. There are many things that keep Nick alive and one of those is the presence of his brother Scotch.

Watching Nick and Scotch together was seeing one soul in motion, not two. Their tails were always wagging in the same direction and even when they ran, their gait, tails, and the way their ears flapped in the wind perfectly matched. Scotch, the serious and moody athlete and Nick, the happy go-lucky playful dog were perfect complements.

It’s amazing to see Scotch now; now that Nick is gone, I see more of Nick in him than ever. He seems to have more a playful side. It’s impossible to see him running with his tail wagging, ears flopping, and little prance without seeing Nick right beside him in his matching gait. There are other things that keep Nick alive for me – one of those things being wildflowers. I find it impossible to see beautiful fields of flowers or even the solitary lone flower along a highway without thinking of that fluffy black dog I love so dearly. It’s impossible to talk to a person filled with joy in the midst of suffering without thinking of Nick, who even on his last day when in so much pain, was still wagging his tail. His was purely a happy little soul.

Nick, Christmas 2011.

 My sister, Luisa, with her doggies Nick and Scotch, Christmas 2011.

Nick and Scotch running side by side in one of their favorite parks. These are the memories I have of them.

I recently went back to this spot with Scotch. I remember this day so clearly.  Walking with them  made the whole world okay.

A painting I did in honor of Nick's courage and love for life.

We will forever miss him.

***

Death is funny like that. You never know how it will be and we don’t really know what happens but we all have our own story. My heart is huge for animals and I think this is twofold: I love their ability to be and I love their pure acceptance of what is. We all, I believe, have a lot to learn from our furry four-legged friends. They know when their time has come and their acceptance, I believe, can help us accept it.

Recently someone shared the following poem with me:

The love of an animal permits us to unfold, to open up, to drop our defenses, and to be naked, not only physically but psychologically and spiritually as well. With an animal, we let ourselves be seen instead of hiding behind our personalities, our cultures, our jobs, our clothing, or our make up. They know us as no one else does, in our private joys, angry rages, deepest despair, in sickness and in health. All the while, their calm steady presence gives us an unwavering love like few others on earth. Our animal companions see through us to the very soul of our soil, encouraging the unfolding of a sacred trust. If there is such thing as a soul mate, then surely this is it.

Perhaps their presence helps teach us how to have this psychological and spiritual nakedness in other places in our lives. A pretty amazing gift…

***

My oldest cat turned 10 yesterday. We have been together since she was 5 months and she has seen me through a decade filled with lots of ups and downs.  With what seems to be way too much animal loss lately, I feel extra celebratory of her (and my other cat’s) presence in my life. It’s been a good reminder to appreciate who and what is in front of me now. I don’t know what it means to die but I do know that the way I live today matters. I am and will continue to do my best.

my sweet best friend

It’s hard to believe it’s been 11 years since I first met my best friend, April. April is one of those people you meet and are constantly puzzled by how she does all that she does. I met her when we were just starting college and I wasn’t able to verbalize it then but she was one of the first people for me to meet who was both comfortable in her own skin and confident enough to share it with the world - a lovely combination. I think it’s why I was so drawn to her because I had yet to find that same comfort and confidence in myself. I was drawn to her energy – she’s brilliant in a myriad of ways: intellectually, creatively, emotionally, and intuitively. She expresses herself. She isn’t afraid to voice her truths even if it means causing rifts or having people respond negatively. She’s stubborn and she’s smart. Since the day I met her she lives each day being present, being silly, having fun, challenging herself, diving into projects, and connecting with the world around her.

I feel lucky our worlds connected us to each other. Until April my world was quite narrow. I knew I wanted more but wasn’t sure how to find it. April and I explored the world together, challenged each other, fought, grew, and changed. Over time she taught me that disagreements don’t have to be calamitous – they can bring two people closer together. She inspired me then and continues to inspire me from afar and every time we connect. She is who really instigated my passion for painting. We used to take canvases to parks and take turns painting. She’s spontaneous. When I’m sad I think of her and think of what we might do together - it's those activities that bring me back up. She helped me find myself. She brings light and happiness everywhere she goes because of WHO she is and her confidence in sharing it. There are no words that could ever fully express the depth of my love, admiration, and respect I have for her.

April still lives in Baton Rouge so we don’t get to see each other as often as we’d like. She is now married with 3 children and I am single with 2 cats. Our lives are really different now but there is still no other person with whom I’d rather spend a weekend, a dinner, a workout, a painting session, anything. She is my best friend – a true beauty....and I can't WAIT to see her this weekend! 

April and I when she came to visit last fall. This is when she was pregnant with her baby GIRL! <3

tonight

Today is a day I’ve been anticipating for months. Today marks the 3^rd annual Share the Love Fundraiser that I created several years ago to raise funds for an organization that I believe in with my whole heart – Texas Advocacy Project. Their cause is one that is hard to talk about because of the havoc it wrecked on my life. Putting this event on isn’t easy for me.

I’ve often wondered why a topic that is so relevant and effects so many people isn’t talked about much. It’s easy to say that it’s not popular or fun to talk about and both are very true. But the truth is that it happens and happens often – every 1 out of 3 women will experience some sort of abuse in her life. This is a LOT of people! And it makes sense that people don’t want to talk about something that showcases and sheds light on just how awful and cruel one human being can be to another. The other thing I’ve realized about the quiet around these topics is that it isn’t easy for the people who have gone through something like this. It can be excruciatingly painful to think about, much less talk about. There is also so much misunderstanding around these topics. It’s just a tough topic all the way around.

And that’s exactly why I wanted to start a fundraiser for this cause. Abuse is rampant and the more I talk about it, the more other people share their stories with me – ones of themselves, their mothers, their friends, their daughters, and the list goes on. I really believe that the only way dark realities change is to shed light on them – to talk about them. I really believe that the only way dark hurts and traumas heal is to shed light on them – to talk about them. It is these beliefs that drive me forward with being vocal about what I went through and helping raise money for Texas Advocacy Project.

At the end of December (I mentioned this in a previous blog post), I began thinking about what I would talk about tonight and soon found myself crying and grieving for the things that had been lost. There has been much gained but the reality is that there has also been serious loss. There’s just no way around it. Since that day I have found myself increasingly emotional about this evening and not sure why. I’ve asked myself why I put this event on when it causes me so much emotional stress. I’ve lost many nights of sleep over it and have become increasingly tearful. And you know what? That’s okay.

Yesterday I received two amazing emails. One from a dear friend and one from my beautiful sister.

My friend reminded me of a few things:

“Forget the difficulty for a moment, though: courage starts with showing up and letting yourself be seen. That's what you're doing tomorrow. It's what you did last year. It's what you did in the courtroom. It's what you -- and others (agencies like TAP) -- do each and every single day they decide to fight this fight. You all decide that everything else aside, there must be an initial step somewhere, and that step takes tremendous faith and confidence and courage. Sometimes that step is as simple as telling your story, sometimes it's as tough as just going out and being around people -- regardless, courage is courage is courage, and its varying degrees don't matter. Everyone who has fought this should be applauded evenly.

And with crazy, how many nights did you fight with yourself about what was right, what would aggravate him, what would be worth the fight, what wouldn't be…and then you did it. One step: the courageous step to just show up. To enter the arena. To dare greatly. The common bond with everyone there tomorrow, yourself most certainly included, is that they have experienced (firsthand or secondhand) something that is designed to paralyze you with vulnerability. It is supposed to keep you tearful, afraid, and homebound. But there will be hundreds of people there tomorrow, raising thousands of dollars, out and open in the heart of one of America's biggest cities, talking about something they should be too afraid to, fighting something that feels so magnificently unnavigable, and taking control. And it all starts with one simple, tough, beautiful step, the same exact one you need to (and will) take tomorrow evening when you speak for thirty seconds to a group of people who LOVE you. Just being yourself is ok, it is enough. And all you can do is show up and let yourself be seen.”

And from my sister:

“I know it is [hard], and you’re wonderful to do it.  You’re doing it to help all the women/girls behind you, and that’s something you certainly aren’t obligated to do.  You’re making a difference.  And, that’s unfortunately not always easy; you’re wonderful to do this.  I’m glad it’s finally arrived and after tomorrow you can be lighter, focus on you, your friends and the things that make you smile.”

I have been SO hard on myself lately and these letters remind me that my emotions are okay, they’re normal, and they’re healthy. But there’s something bigger here at stake than my emotions. Being reminded why I choose to do this makes me so much more appreciative for this event. Going through what I went through was absolute hell. All I want is to hold every child, girl, and woman who doesn’t have someone to hold them through whatever similar hell they are going through. And tonight is my way of giving them a hug and saying that someone is here for them.

tiny beautiful things

I finished a book yesterday that is now among my favorites. It's a book written by Cheryl Strayed who wrote an advice column called Dear Sugar. This book, tiny beautiful things: Advice on love and life from Dear Sugar is a compilation of her most popular columns. This isn't a typical advice column. Sugar says things like,

"Inhabit the beauty that lives in your beastly body and strive to see the beauty in all the other beasts."

"Forgiveness doesn't just sit there like a pretty boy in a bar."

"Believe that the fairy tale is true."

"Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here."

Her column was a hit because she believes in the beautiful, she's radically forthright while being kind, she's a little bit crude and sarcastic while tempering it with humor and lovingly refers to her readers as "honey bun" and "sweat pea". Her words are real and I think we can all relate to much of what she says. The final question in the book was one that was so perfectly answered, I had to share it. Perhaps we can't relate to the specific stories but we can relate to the experiential part because as my old mentor used to tell me, "It's never about the story." The stuff underneath, the heart is what we relate to and so here's a bit of wisdom from Dear Sugar. 

Dear Sugar,

I read your column religiously. I'm twenty-two. From what I can tell by your writing, you're in your early forties. My question is short and sweet: What would you tell your twentysomething self if you could talk to her now?

Love,

Seeking Wisdom

Dear Seeking Wisdom,

Stop worrying about whether you're fat. You're not fat. Or rather, you're sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

     In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked  into your bed, straddles you, and says, 'You should run away from me before I devour you', believe her.

     You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don't need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn't mean you're incapable of real love or that you'll never love anyone else again. It doesn't mean you're morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That's all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

     When that really sweet but fucked-up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do Ecstasy with them, say no.

     There are some things you can't understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It's good you've worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

     One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn't have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

     Don't lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don't have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don't know what it is yet.

     You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don't waste your time on anything else.

     Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

     One hot afternoon during the era in which you've gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin, you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She'll offer you one of the balloons, but you won't take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You're wrong. You do.

     Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relationship to your naive pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

     When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn't "mean anything" because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with your or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

     The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people's diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

     One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don't look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don't hold it up and say it's longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn't say for the rest of your life.

     Say thank you.

Yours,

Sugar

Firsts

I’m back from my trip and am experiencing a bit of a lull from the high of it all. Something I think is really fun about my trip is that there were a lot of new experiences for me. Some were things I’ve been wanting to check off my “I’ve done that!” list, some were things I hope I never take for granted, and some were things I hope that maybe one day I will take for granted. Here are these firsts:

1.   Simply taking the trip. I’ve never truly traveled on my own and it’s something I knew I needed. I’m so very grateful to have insisted on this despite a lot of well-intentioned reactions from people who love me. I hope I never take my alone time for granted and don’t know that I ever could. I’m a different person because of this trip and know this trip doesn’t end with stepping off the plane. The ripple effects and realizations from this time are sure to keep coming. 

My first view of the ocean coming into Grand Cayman.

One of the many lovely courtyards where I was staying.

2.     Going scuba diving. This was on my list of things I’ve been wanting to do for quite some time. Despite being a terrible swimmer and having a completely irrational fear of putting my face underwater, I thought I’d get hooked. Not so much. At all. Once in the water for the training portion, I began visibly shaking. I went from feeling very cool and confident to quickly reverting to a very unbrave version of myself. I stayed in the water because I have an intensely stubborn determination to face my fears. In an attempt to feel better, I began quizzing the scuba instructor on how long he’d been taking people diving, how long he himself has been diving, and whether or not he’d ever had any problems with a newbie. He assured me of his experience and asked me to please not be his first trouble student. Poor guy. Once we dove, I kept my hand pressing the breathing device tightly against my face. I was terrified that somehow I’d drop it from my mouth so I kept my teeth clenched so tightly I made my jaw sore.  I also felt the odd need to hang on to my scuba instructor’s hand throughout the dive. I would grab onto it only to have him remove it from my grip and as he’d swim away, I’d grab onto his leg. He’d turn, ask if I was ok, I’d give my ok signal and on it went. I really felt the need for human contact to help me feel more comfortable. Pretty funny. 

I did it!

3.     Horseriding on the beach. Like most little girls, I grew up wanting to ride horses. The desire never went away so my parents relented and in high school I started riding. I’ve always wanted to ride on the beach so in Grand Cayman, I took my own intimate sunset ride with a pair of newlyweds. We even took our horses swimming in the ocean. It was phenomenally beautiful, relaxing, and either number 2 or 3 of my favorite experiences from this trip. I want to do it again. 

4.     Relying solely on my feet, public transportation, and hitchhiking to get around. I would bet good money I’m the first person ever to take a bus to the Ritz Carlton. I walked countless miles and spent a lot of time both marveling and detesting the bus system. I got yelled at on the buses. And hit on. And I nodded my head a lot pretending to understand English with an accent I’d never heard. I sprinted after buses and begged drivers to take me off-route. It was all part of the magic for me. I hope I never take either of these things for granted. I want cars to be a luxury for me even when a part of my daily life. 

From my first bus ride.

5.     Comparing myself to an African lady carrying a jug of water on my head. Do these women have any musculoskeletal imbalances?! Why would I compare myself to an African women carrying a jug of water on my head? In my multiple trips to gas stations to purchase water and lug heavy bags of bottled water home, I was reminded of women carrying water jugs on their head. I love walking because of how connected I feel and carrying water made me feel connected to these women around the world who throughout history have walked miles to bring water home.  It felt really historically beautiful to me. Perhaps one day I’ll visit a country where they carry things on their heads and learn from the best. Bucket list item noted. 

I want to learn from her.

6.     Rode in a submarine.

Yes, I rode in a REAL submarine! I took a night submarine dive and went about 120 feet underwater. We saw a lot of different types of fish, coral, crabs. It was pretty surreal.

The entrance to the sub.

Waiting to go down.

On my way down into the submarine!

Photos didn't take well but I did my best.

Coral

Cool shot of the inside of the sub.

Watching the sub go below water.

There it goes!

And, gone.

7.     Swam with stingrays, fed them, and even kissed them!

So, technically I’ve done this before but I was much younger and don’t remember it. I’m including this in my firsts list because the hour I spent with the stingrays has got to be one of my favorite hours in my life. I adore all animals but there was something really incredible about having these large creatures rub up against you, kiss you, and hug you in their little stingray way. I loved the way they vacuum suck food out of your hand.  Two of the stingrays I held were pregnant and I was able to feel the baby stingrays moving inside of them. It truly was magical. It was also interesting to learn that stingrays don’t sting as absentmindedly as I had previously thought. They only have one stinger and when they sting something, it falls out and takes about a year to grow back.

They were really sweet, affectionate animals and I’d like to go back to Grand Cayman to do that again.

On our way out to Stingray City. My first ride on a sailboat!

Frisbee. Beautiful pregnant, tailless stingray.

I could play with them forever.

Giving Frisbee one of many kisses! mmmwwuaH!

I’m home now and it feels strange. Sad even. Everything I left is the same but I am unquestionably different. The trip was perfect. It was phenomenal, it was eye-opening, it was hard, it was fun. I fought with myself and I embraced myself. I learned more about what I like and what I’m made of. I connected with ME more. I really believe that the best and hardest and most rewarding places on this planet are the one’s where there’s no hiding spot - there's nowhere to hide when it's just you.

And to quote the last line from my favorite book, “How wild it was to let it be”.