Step 15: Lugh

"Are you more like your mom or dad?" people ask me. I'd like to believe that I can choose the best of both.

Today I heard a bit about Lugh, one of the gods of the Celtic Pantheon. He is the son of Cian and Ethniu, half god, half monster. He was able to become successful because he had the good traits of each of his parents: the heart and morals of his father's side (the gods), and the courage and self-defense abilities of his mother's side (the monsters). With the gods being oppressed by the monsters, he joins the gods, teaches them to defend themselves, and helps them gain their freedom from the monsters. While greatly simplified, this basic outline provides a powerful example of how to choose our better history and future.

Every experience and example has the potential to be a help or a hindrance to us. Cian's family, had good, patient hearts that lead others to dominate them. Ethniu's family was wild and ill-willed, though exceptional warriors. Lugh could have easily adopted either example. Instead, Lugh was able to combine the warrior instincts of his mother and the good heart of his father to restore peace.

The important lesson here is Lugh's decision to pick and choose among his historical examples and inherited traits to create something all original that allowed him to do the most good in the world. When I consider my own history and my own way forward, I've been thinking a lot about my parents, my earliest examples of how to be an adult in the world.

It would be easy to vilify one of my parents and deify the other. Instead, I am trying to appreciate and nurture the very best of them both as a base to build my own life from. From my mother, there is so much goodness to choose from, though not enough personal confidence. From my father, there is so much intellect and confidence to choose from, though not enough compassion and love for others.

My history is the inverse of Lugh's, though my journey has been and will continue to be similar. In order for me to really do some good in the world, I will need the very best traits of both my parents combined. I wonder if that's true for all of us.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Moments that Made My Life

My friend, Josh, over at World’s Strongest Librarian wrote a post that is so beautiful and profound that I had to share it here. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day. He talked about the defining moments of his life in terms of when they happened, how he felt about them, and what they meant to him. It’s a form that I love so much that I created my own snapshots of when. So many thanks to Josh for inspiring my writing and my life. Here goes…

When I first saw my niece, I realized why it was so important to have children in our lives.

When my heart broke, I realized that it didn’t take as long to heal and love again as I thought it would.

When he passed away, I didn’t feel as relieved as I thought I would – it was then that I started down the very long path to forgiveness.

When I crossed that finish line, realizing a dream years in the making, I was more grateful for the strength of my body than ever before.

When I decided to keep loving through the hurt, I realized that on the other side there was more love.

When I graduated, I knew at that moment that I could do anything I set my mind to.

When I looked out at the wild surf of South Africa, I realized that I had traveled very far from home and still felt like I belonged.

When I stood in front of a classroom for the first time, I had much more to offer than I ever expected.

When I chased a dream as far as I could and it still wasn’t enough to make it real, I was amazed at my resilience to just get a new dream.

When I said a final good-bye to my dear and faithful friend, I found that not everything or everyone is replaceable. Some parts of our lives and hearts can never be reclaimed, and that’s okay.

When I first put my writing out into the world for everyone to see, I found that there was a lot more support for my ideas that I ever knew and much of that support came from people I didn’t even know.

When the curtain came down and I heard the applause, I knew I had been part of something much greater than myself.

When I almost didn’t get a tomorrow, I understood how precious every moment is and that dreams can’t wait.

When I lost almost all of my belongings, I found that I didn’t really need any of them to survive and thrive and for the first time in my life I felt truly free.

When I found the courage to tell my own story, I discovered that I had the ability to inspire the same courage in others.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Spirit on Bone

"Have compassion for everyone you meet, even if they don't want it. What appears bad manners, an ill temper, or cynicism, is always a sign of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen. You do not know what wars are going on down there where the spirit meets the bone." ~ Miller Williams

I was struck by the last line of this quote by Miller Williams because it relates perfectly to a situation that a friend of mine encountered this week. My friend was in town for a business meeting, and when he went to say good-bye to his boss, his boss pulled out a holiday gift and card for him. The card detailed everything he admired about my friend, and given my friend's talents, I am sure that the list of admirable qualities was long. The oddest thing about this encounter is that my friend's boss never gives Christmas presents, never says what he admires about others, and would be hard pressed to give anyone a heart-felt compliment unless there was some personal gain to be had from doing so.

My friend's boss was saying good-bye with this gift and card. It appears that his boss's time is up at their company, and parting is a difficult thing for someone who thought he was playing the game by all the right rules. He probably was; the trouble is that with this economy the ground shifts so quickly, and with it the game and subsequent rules change as well. It's just that no one tells you when a change has occurred. My friend's boss learned this lesson the hard way.

For about a year, I've been upset with my friend's boss. He's been manipulative and cruel, someone who took some kind of sad, sick pleasure in making someone else feel small. He was the consummate bad cop. Now, I'm not so sure. Maybe that bad cop was a front. Maybe there was always a good guy underneath that tough veneer. Maybe there was a heart there all along.

I guess we never really know what's going on inside someone's mind and soul. All we truly know are their actions and words. I suspect that my friend's boss was motivated by fear, and that caused him to behave so badly for so long. Now his number's up, and he's regretting some of his actions and words, wishing he could change them and knowing that it is far too late to fully make amends. The gift and the card is the best he can do, and perhaps that's enough.

A number of years ago, I had a boss who impressed me with one lesson that I think about all the time. A team member of ours was horribly rude to my boss, in public, and a few days later the team member came into my boss's office to apologize. My boss accepted the apology, no questions asked. I was stunned.

"How could you do that?" I asked him.

"Christa, asking for forgiveness is the hardest thing we do in life. You have to let someone apologize. If someone has the courage to come to me and apologize, then I can have the courage to forgive them."

It was one of those light bulb moments for me and I try to keep it close to my heart, even when someone has hurt me terribly. We have to let people say they're sorry, in their own way, in their own time. Sometimes it's in the form of a present or card, as it was between my friend and his boss. Sometimes it's a phone call, or an email, or a simple face-to-face conversation. By asking for forgiveness and granting it we can help one another to ease any tension that arises where the spirit meets the bone. And that might be the greatest gift we can ever give or receive.

The images above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - I Got my Whole Future in My Hands

"Put your future in good hands - your own." ~ Anonymous

I read this quote a few days ago on Owning Pink's Twitter account (@Owningpink), one of my very favorite accounts to check. It is always brimming with inspiring ideas. This one spoke to me quite clearly and was just the advice I needed. Taking our future into our own hands is a brave and frightening act, though once we accept it as a way to move forward, it really can move mountains.

Today I had to have a conversation that I have been dreading for some time now. I knew it was coming and I was nervous about it. I was afraid of what the reaction of the of the other person might be and I was afraid of my tendency toward blatant honesty. How delicately did I need to plead my case? Would I have to tap dance around what I really wanted to say, playing politics, or could I just get on with it?

No surprise that I went the honesty route. I explained how I wanted my future to unfold and where I thought the best place to do my life's work would be. And a remarkable thing happened - the very person I was frightened of, the very person who I thought would not at all support my decision, stepped up and offered his hand. This person and I have on occasion had a rough go of it. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye. As a matter of fact we've butted heads so often that it's become a habit for us. And yet, there is some kind of magic that honesty breeds. Once he understood my point-of-view, he realized that he had the opportunity to make my dream come true, or at least to help it along in a significant way. And so, he did.

Before I went to see him, I took a deep breathe, smiled, and told myself, "you can do this. Just go in there with an honest heart and say exactly what you think." I did. He listened. And before I even had to ask for help, before I even dared to ask for help, he offered it up with a smile. All my worrying had been for naught. He asked me to think it over, and make sure that this is really the direction I want to go in. I thanked him, knowing that I'll be back to see him tomorrow, to tell him I'm ready to build the life I imagine, to thank him for his help, and to take my life into my own hands.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Power of Silence

"Let us love, since our heart is made for nothing else." ~ St. Therese

I have completely lost my voice to this cold I have been fighting. I can barely eek out an audible whisper. This is especially hilarious because talking is one of my favorite activities. Truly, I've been known to have a very interesting conversation with a brick wall. I talk to myself in my apartment, as I'm working through problems. I have lots and lots of opinions on just about everything. And now I have been silenced.

I was in DC this weekend with a load of my business school friends for our friends' Chris and Steph's wedding. I don't know that I've ever seen a groom that happy. Seriously, if Chris's smile was any wider his face would have cracked. It was wonderful to see someone I love so much so happy.

After the wedding and reception, my voice was really getting hoarse. The trouble with this sore throat is that it is not currently accompanied by any other symptoms. I feel fine; I just sound a little funny. Actually, I sound a lot funny. To get the blood flowing in my throat, I went to a yoga class with my friend, Julie, at 9am. I always learn so much going to a yoga class. I watch for teaching technique and I invariably learn a new pose or a new way of thinking about a pose that allows me to deepen my practice and teaching.

In Savasana, corpse pose, I was completely relaxed, or so I thought. Savasana is done at the end of virtually every yoga practice. It allows our bodies and minds to approach a meditative state after being worked through the preceding asanas. People have become so relaxed in Savasana that they've been known to fall into a sleep / dream state.

The teacher came around to each of us, pressing our shoulders firmly to the mat and down away from our ears. Until she did this, I didn't realize that I was holding any tension there at all. In fact, I was scrunching up my heart a bit. With the teacher's pressure, my heart opened with a little bit of a creak and a crack. I felt lighter. I felt a bit more love.

It is an amazing thing about silence and time with friends and yoga and the witnessing of an act of love and commitment. In the past few months, I have been shown how risky and wonderful loving with an open heart can be. I looked around at the wedding reception: at Chris and Steph, of course, and also at my friends Daphne and Eric, and Courtney and Brian, also newly married this year. Their lives are richer for having one another. There is this unspoken chemistry that just works with all of them. At some point, they must have all been a little bit scared, too, maybe afraid to keep their hearts open. Somehow, they worked through that fear and emerged happy and healthy and whole to find another person happy and healthy and whole with an open heart ready to love them.

Today I felt more certain than ever that eventually I'd find the guy for me. That creaking and cracking of my heart was symbolic of that openness I've been able to find in the second half of this year. In the midst of my forced silence and voluntary yoga practice, my heart and my mind came together, my mind accepting that this heart o' mine after being put through the fire many times is now shined and polished and poised for the kind of love and commitment that so many of my friends have generously shown can work.

The image above is not my own. It can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Vermonty

"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops." ~ Henry B. Adams

While Mr. Adams meant for this post to be about professional teachers, I'm learning that we are all always teachers, just as we are all always students. Every moment that we're living, we're teaching. What we teach to others says an awful lot about who we are and the significance of our lives. Just as we get what we give, we learn what we teach. What we teach is our contribution to humanity, and this is not something to be taken lightly.

What I try to be mindful of in every moment is that every action we take, every word we say has true lasting effects that we will never know. That applies to every stranger we meet, as well as everyone in our personal and professional lives. That means every personal interaction, as well as every anonymous interaction. There is no excuse for leaving out please, thank you, and a smile. There is no excuse for not doing what we say we will do. Being polite, courteous, gracious, and follow-through will get us farther in this world than anything else.

Years later, others will still be thinking about what we said and did and how we treated them. I'd prefer they think well of me than ill of me. And sometimes that requires swallowing my pride a little bit, and not saying exactly what I think all of the time. Publilius Syrus got it right when he said, "I have often regretted my speech, never my silence." I've learned that lesson many times over, the hard way. A little filter is good.

I'm not saying that this is easy to always remember or do. I try to get it as right as I can as often as I can. Sometimes I fall short and in the aftermath I feel a bit badly. I just double-down my efforts and try to do better going forward. At the same time that I accepted that we're all lifelong teachers and students, I also gave up the pursuit of perfection - both realizations have helped enormously.

When I got into my apartment building elevator a few weeks ago, a man I've never met before stepped in after me. I had just gotten home from a rough day, and I wasn't feeling particularly cheery. I could have looked down at my feet, lost in my own sad thoughts. Instead I looked up and smiled at the man in the elevator.

He smiled and asked me, "are you from Vermont?" I laughed.

"No, I'm not," I said, "but I spent a summer there doing a theatre internship when I was in college."

"Oh," he said. "Are they nice there in Vermont?"

"Very," I said.

"You just look like a very nice person. And I always associate being very nice with being from Vermont. You look very Vermonty."

"Well, thank you," I giggled.

"See - that's what I mean," he said. "So polite, those people from Vermont."

He hopped off the elevator and bid me good night. A small interaction considering all of the interactions I had that day. I don't know his name. He doesn't know mine. I may never see him again. But weeks later, I'm still thinking of him. I smiled to myself. Vermonty - that's a last impression I can live with.

My Year of Hopefulness - Standing on the Hinge

"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." ~ Victor Frankl

I just finished the book Here If You Need Me, a brilliant memoir by Kate Braestrup. Kate is a writer who became a minster shortly after her husband's death. Being a minister wasn't her dream; it was her late husband's dream and because he didn't get the chance to achieve that, she offered up her own vocation for him. She is the chaplain to the game wardens of Maine, the group of brave public servants who conduct searches for people who are lost in the deep Maine woods, the person who falls through the ice, the hiker who ventures too far for too long. Their work can be dangerous and frequently ends with a tragic discovery. They need a good chaplain and they have a superb one in Kate.

The book is a fast, inspiring read. Of all the anecdotes that stand out in my mind, the most vivid in my mind is her description of her job as standing on the hinge of life. Kate is the one who waits with the families as the game wardens search for their loved ones that are lost or missing. She counsels the wardens after tragic circumstances are discovered. She stands with them in these uncomfortable, difficult moments that will come to define their lives. These are the moments that define their befores and afters.

All through the book I kept thinking about this metaphor, this hinge of life. I kept thinking about how many hinges I've been on lately. These moments that define my own befores and afters. Each one presents an opportunity for choice - we get to choose our attitude, our way forward, our outlook, and the learnings we take away from each experience.

September 2009 could have left a very deep scar on my heart. Instead, I had to make it a time of great learning and exploration. I had to make those days count by allowing them to teach me what's truly important to me. They became a time of great commitment for me. Instead of being wracked by fear, I realized that I had nothing to fear because I knew I would be fine no matter what happened from here on out. I survived the perfect storm.

September was one big hinge for me and gave me the chance to recognize quite literally that the important things in life aren't things. It taught me that I want very deep, meaningful relationships to be the core of my life. I set myself on a course to eventually write full-time. New York most certainly became my long-time home. On October 1st, I knew with certainty what I wanted from my life with a clarity I've never had before. And it feels great.

Hinges are difficult. They are filled with great expectations and great hesitancy. They are points of no turning back. Unless we're people like Kate, we only get a few opportunities to stand at the hinge of our own lives. Life doesn't offer up learnings and choices of that type of poignancy every day. And thank goodness because they can be incredibly stressful times. Though when we get the chance to stand at the edge of our lives and decide in a very profound way who we are and who we mean to be, it's an opportunity we should approach with a grateful and open heart. After all, we will not be able to pass this way again.

My Year of Hopefulness - Tony

“Abundance comes not from stuff. In fact, stuff is an indication of non-abundance. Abundance is in the sacred; it's in the connection of love. We will find abundance through hard times when we find each other.” ~ Rebecca Adamson

I fell in love with Tony 8 years ago at first sight. To date, it was the most immediate reaction I’ve ever had to anyone. Two and a half years later, after about 1,000 ups and downs, we parted ways romantically, not because we didn’t love each other but because Tony didn’t love himself as much as I loved him.

I rarely talk about my romantic life on this blog, mostly because I keep those relationships extremely private. This one though has taught me so much that I know will help others and so I’m taking a risk here and putting a little more of my heart into my writing than I have ever done. Tony taught me a lot, more than anyone else I've ever been in a relationship with, and these lessons should be re-told.

To date, he is the only person who sends me text messages around 4:00am exclusively. I never reach him or hear from him during the day or even at a reasonable hour in the evening. We just don’t work that way. He’s a night owl, a serious night owl. Usually I don’t get his text messages until the morning on my way to work. Last night I happened to be awake when my phone buzzed, and of course it was Tony.

“I’m still not happy in my career. The only difference is that I’m not hating me anymore…just what I let myself lose.” Now, I don’t think he’s referring to me at all when he talks about what he lost. I think he’s talking about time and effort and energy lost to a career he doesn’t like and really never wanted. He just never thought he deserved anything better. By not liking himself for so long, Tony lost a lot of his life.

I smiled when I read his message this morning. Not because Tony lost a lot of years of his life – that I will always think is tragic. I smiled because finally, finally, finally all the love I felt for him, he now has for himself, and that’s all I ever really wanted for him. He is a good, good man with a good, good heart. He’s kind and generous and brilliant. And for so many years, I wanted him to see himself the way that I saw him. No matter what I did, nothing worked. So I let him go. In the end, there was no other choice. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see what I saw. Now, he does.

I wrote back to him, “T – I am so happy for you. You are on the right path. And it’s never too late to make a change. Xo” I meant this – every word of it. I’d like to believe that somewhere along the line all the love I gave him helped him in his journey. I’d like to believe that me being in his life helped him flip the switch from self-loathing to self-loving. I’d always like to believe that love, when given freely and in abundance makes a difference eventually. That love, unrequited or not, is never for naught.

I thought of him all day today - of so many good times and so many not-so-good times. I thought about who I was then and what I wanted then, and how much that has changed. I thought of all the things about him that made me smile, and those things still make me smile. What's amazing about my journey with Tony, though so long ago, is that all the hurt I felt upon leaving isn't there anymore. Somehow all the hurt faded, and only the good stuff remains. Even the bad times just don't seem so bad when placed side-by-side with all the happy and wonderful times we had. I hope he feels the same way. Our hearts and memories are funny, malleable things, and for that I'm grateful.

Tony showed me how much love my heart could hold. This is a powerful lesson. As much as I fell in love with Tony, just as he was, I fell even more in love with his potential. I used to regard falling in love with potential as a waste. Today, I changed my mind on that thanks to him.

Potential might be more worthy of love than anything else. Potential is hope. Potential is something to look forward to. Potential keeps us looking up and working toward a better tomorrow, toward bettering ourselves. My love for Tony’s potential was not a waste at all; it’s a remedy that he eventually used to build a better life for himself.

He gave me so much and now I finally feel like I was able to return the favor. Even though it didn't work out for us in the long-run, I regard my time with me him as precious. I am nothing but honored and privileged to have been a small part of his healing.

The image above is not my own. I love it though, and found it here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Rest and Relaxation

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that." ~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Though it's just turned to Fall, I've found myself drawn to re-reading one of my favorite essays every night this week - Winter by Nina Zolotow. I first saw it in Rodney Yee's book Yoga: The Poetry of the Body. I understand this essay now more than I ever have in the 7 years since I first read it. I pull it out in times of trouble, in times when I'm feeling sad and worn out and confused about how to move forward. Her conclusion makes me a feel a little better, gives me a bit more license to give myself a much-needed break. I love that the only period is at the end of the essay, and that all of the other sentences and phrases run together in one long, cohesive thought, just like life.

And now here I am at the final day of September, ready to release this month in favor of a happier, sunnier October. And some much needed rest and relaxation. A tired heart and mind can only be rejuvenated by rest and care, not by further trial and challenge. So that's my goal for the next little while - a simple one, really. To just take care of this heart who has endured so much this month, to surround it with love, to nurture it back to its original state. It has done some heavy lifting this month and earned some well-deserved down time. Just like the fig tree, it will certainly be revived.

Last night, I listened to Professor Michael Sandel's lectures at justiceharvard.org. They were just what I needed. He spoke about how to value life and the utilitarian philosophy that seeks to maximize pleasure over pain. I was lulled into a relaxed state as he told me about Sophocles and Plato, J.S. Mill, and Jeremy Bentham. And fell into a deep sleep between my comfy sheets made of bamboo fiber and topped by a fluffy duvet. I buried myself into my new bed, cocooning and nurturing my weary body and mind, and didn't stir until the sun came up. So this is what it feels like to heal.

Winter by Nina Zolotow
"In their garden there was always a wild profusion of tomatoes ripening on the vine, and leafy basil, arugula, and lettuce, and glossy purple eggplants, and red and yellow peppers, and zucchini with its long, bright blossoms, and there was always lunch at the wooden table on hot summer afternoons, with plates of pasta and bread and olives and salads with herbs, and many bottles of red wine that made you feel warm and drowsy, while bees hummed and the sprawling marjoram, thyme, and rosemary gave off their pungent fragrances, and at the end of the meal, always, inexplicably, there were fresh black figs that they picked themselves from the tree at the garden's center, an eighteen-foot fig tree, for how was it possible - this was not Tuscany but Ithaca - Ithaca, New York, a rough-hewn landscape of deep rocky gorges and bitter icy winters, and I finally had to ask him - my neighbor - how did that beautiful tree live through the year, how did it endure the harshness of a New York winter and not only survive until spring but continue producing the miraculous fruit, year after year, and he told me that it was quite simple, really, that every fall, after the tree lost all its leaves, he would sever the tree's roots on one side only and, on the tree's other side, he would dig a trench, and then he would just lay down that flexible trunk and limbs, lay them down in the earth and gently cover them with soil, and there the fig tree would rest, warm and protected, until spring came, when he could remove its protective covering and stand the tree up once again to greet the sun; and now in this long gray season of darkness and cold and grief (do I have to tell you over what? for isn't it always the same - the loss of a lover, the death of a child, or the incomprehensible cruelty of one human being to another?), as I gaze out of my window at the empty space where the fig tree will stand again next spring, I think, yes, lay me down like that, lay me down like the fig tree that sleeps in the earth, and let my body rest easily on the ground - my roots connecting me to some warm immutable center - luxuriating in the heart of winter."

The photo above is not my own. It was taken in Centennial Park in Sydney, Australia by Mike Bogle. I can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Super-powers

"It's no trick loving somebody at their best. Love is loving them at their worst." ~ Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing

Our capacity to love is so much bigger than we can imagine. So big that it's something I was afraid of for a long time. My ability to let someone into my life in a loving, intimate way is the one thing I feel I do exceptionally well. Tonight I was reminded of a boyfriend from a long time ago, someone whom I loved very much for a long time, and in many ways continue to love albeit in a much different way than before. Of all the gifts he gave me over the course of our relationship, the one I treasure most is that he showed me what an enormous capacity for love I have.

Over this past week I have felt so loved and protected and cared for. So many people from so many areas of my life stepped up to help me carry the burden of this building fire. I lost my home. I lost a lot of my belongings. It is an almost unbearable thing to imagine. And I'm getting through it, smiling, shining, rising, because of the amazing people in my life. Without them, I'd be lost. And I learned that Tom Stoppard's quote isn't just a clever line in a play - it is an absolute truism. Anyone can smile and love and laugh through the good times; it takes something altogether different to love someone and be there for them when they are down and out. I'm truly blessed to have so many people who've loved me, and continue to love me, through this tough time.

Some of my clothes might be salvageable. Today the specialty dry cleaners came in to get every item of clothing I own so that it can be cleaned properly, if possible. That sent me out to do a bit of shopping. I hate clothes shopping. One of my least favorite things to do. I wound up with some underwear, two shirts, a pair of pajamas, and a pair of shoes. One of the t-shirts says in big bold letters "Give Love". After this week, I had to buy it. For all the love I've been given, especially as of late, I wanted a reminder that I must continue to give love back, even more so than I have before.

I was thinking about super-powers tonight. When I was little, I wanted to be able to run at the speed of light. I guess I thought that if I could run that fast, I could outrun any bad times. Then earlier on tonight, I thought the power of a never-fail immune system would be the ultimate super-power. With that, I could live forever. And there is so much I want to do that this super-power seemed like a very good idea. Now though, as I write from the lobby of my new apartment building (I don't yet have internet in my apartment), I know exactly what super-power I want. I want to be able to keep loving, no matter what. I want a heart so big that it is impossible to discourage it. I want to be able to keep loving, come what may. And the best thing is that this super-power isn't just something I can only wish for. It's something I can have, that we all can have, starting now.

My Year of Hopefulness - New Life

Today my friends, Alex and Shawn, welcomed a new baby boy into the world. 7 and a half pounds, 19 and a half inches of new, beautiful, perfect, healthy life. Alex and Shawn will be amazing parents. They're the funniest couple I know. Their love story is one of my favorites. Having met their freshman year of college, they've gone through so many life changes, together and apart. After more than a decade together, they remain intensely interested in the other's interests and they support one another endlessly in all their pursuits. Spending time with them has always made me feel optimistic about the fate of love and marriage.

And now they begin this new piece of their history with a new member of their family. I went to Providence a few weeks ago for the baby shower, and they were both so happy. Though neither of them seemed stressed or worried or afraid. This was just another great event in their lives.

With everything we hear in the news about the difficulty of remaining in love, raising kids, and keeping a marriage strong and healthy, it's easy to feel like it's just not possible to have all three. And then I watch Alex and Shawn and realize that marriage and family and love are what you make of them. Too often we imagine that they are entities unto themselves that we have no control over, as if our own feelings of love live outside of us, independent of the rest of our lives. What's amazing about Alex and Shawn is that their love resides firmly at the center of their lives, while also giving them the confidence and freedom to pursue their own independent ventures, too. It's really something to behold, especially when you consider how young they were when they first met.

I can say with certainty that their son is one of the luckiest little guys in the world. He has these incredible parents who will provide such a prime example of what love can and should be. I can't stop smiling when I think about how much happiness he will know in his life. All kids should be so lucky.

The photo above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - Is Human Connection More Powerful than Prayer?

"The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart." ~ Buddha

How often do we raise our eyes to the sky and ask for help? I find myself doing that from time to time. Today I got word from a partner of mine on one of my projects that we are facing some critical obstacles. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. "Pray," she said. "Lots."

Now, I know she's doing much more than praying. She's actually working her tail off, jumping through dozens of hoops to keep us moving forward. I find that with any trying circumstance, the default solution is to pray. But what are we really doing when we pray? What am I doing as I go to my yoga mat in times of distress? What am I asking for and who am I asking it of?

Maybe prayer is better directed not up towards the sky, out of our reach. Perhaps it's much more powerful if we turn in and not out. When I go to my yoga mat and create an intention for my practice, I'm asking for help and guidance and assurance. I'm tapping into my creative well. I'm actually searching for my soul and its wisdom. It's an overwhelming idea if I think about it too long. Can we actually tap into the energy and light around us, all around us, by looking in?

My experience has demonstrated than the answer to this question is a resounding 'yes'. Yoga and Buddhism have some basic tenants that I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, especially during difficult times: 1) the world will provide us the exact learning that we need at the exact moment that we need it and 2) to tap into the energy around us we must recognize that while we live in this world, we are not of it. Our souls are old. They have been through many trials. They are the ties that bind us to one another. They have knowledge far beyond what we carry within our minds and our own limited experiences. Meditation, yoga, or any other contemplative practice bring that soul knowledge to our consciousness.

While in Virginia, I used to teach yoga classes at my business school. They were my small way of making the stress that all of us felt in our studies a bit more manageable. (This Winter I'll begin my 500 hours certification process. It will be a long road, though one I have wanted to be on for some time now.) I would close each class with a simple statement to my students that a teacher of mine used to use: "the light that is in me, honors that the light that is in you." I've found that connecting with people, one heart to one heart right here on the ground, has brought me more lasting joy and peace than raising my eyes and prayers to the sky. I have more faith in us and what we can do together, here and now, than I do in anything else.

The image above can be found here.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Things We Keep

I’m in the midst of packing up my apartment. I’m amazed at the stuff I’ve got hanging around – old yearbooks, varsity letters from high school, cards, photos, letters, journals, magazine articles I meant to read once upon a time though for the life of me can’t remember why I was interested in reading them in the first place. It’s amazing what we accumulate.

I have two large closets in my front hallway that I have dreaded packing into boxes. I knew it would be a long, arduous process and therefore put it off as long as I could. Finally, I couldn’t sleep because I was so worried about packing them up so I just got up out of bed and started the inevitable sorting, tossing, and packing of their contents. Some of the memories they contain are painful, though most of them are happy. And thankfully, the contents are so old that my mind has gleefully erased most of the sadness, loss, frustration, and unhappiness that some of their contents used to trigger, leaving behind only the good memories in their wake.

I got my love for cards and letter writing from my grandmother, Sadie. She sent cards for every occasion from birthdays to Valentine’s Day to Halloween to First Day of School. I found a stack of them in one of the boxes crammed into the top shelf of my closet. I’d know that handwriting anywhere. My grandmother passed away 9 years ago, and still I miss getting those cards in her perfect cursive handwriting.

As I re-read the cards this week, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I kept them. It’s my own little piece of her that I can always have. I hear her voice through those cards and am reminded of how much she loved me and cherished me. It’s things like these cards that have become my most cherished possessions. They didn’t cost a lot of money and they didn’t take a lot of time to create. Their simplicity and heartfelt emotion are the only gifts I ever really needed.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Velveteen Rabbit

My friend, Eric, got married this weekend. He is one of my closest friends from business school, someone who got me through many tough assignments and helped keep me sane. We also had a lot of fun together. I’m so happy that he found someone as wonderful as he is and that they’ve started their lives together.

The one reading that he and his new wife, Daphne, had at their wedding is from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. The quote considers the very pertinent question “What does it mean to be real?”

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day…

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes. When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

It is the perfect allegory for starting a relationship with someone that is based on love, and therefore the perfect reading for a wedding. It’s also the perfect thing to consider for our lives in general. Our lives, from beginning to end, are based on the art of becoming.

As we grow older we develop new interests and relationships and dreams. Some we accomplish, others die away without coming to fruition for one reason or another, and still others have yet to be found. The end process of becoming is to be real. Authentically, imperfectly, beautifully an individual who will never be replicated nor replaced.

The process of becoming takes patience, with ourselves and with others. It can’t be rushed. We can’t skip to the end to see how it turns out. We can’t work backwards and engineer our way into the best possible ending. It can only be created forward. There will be unexpected instances that must be folded into the process, some will be welcome changes, strokes of luck and genius, and others may be painful and sad. They all matter and all contribute to the piece of art, the life, we get in the end.

Becoming real is not easy. It takes work and perseverance, compromise and sacrifice. And it requires that we take the long-view, always. There will be moments of great triumph and great loss. Those losses are the risks we take and the price we pay for actively living and participating in the world around us, the risks and price for becoming real. And those triumphs and happy moments, big and small, are what make it all worthwhile.

My Year of Hopefulness - Lots of ideas

"The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas." ~ Linus Pauling, American scientist

It's a romantic ideal that in a flash of insight we finally come up with a brilliant idea to overcome some challenge. Truth is it takes us time to wrestle a problem to the ground. Lots of ideas have to be considered, tried, tested, and tweaked to get us to an elegant solution.

While Linus Pauling was referencing his own work in science, his quote applies to many areas. Where we live, where we work, and who we spend our time with can take some trial and error before we strike just the right place and people. This is my third try at living in New York, and I think I got it right this time. There have been a lot of ups and downs over the 10 years since I first moved here. Finally, I found a way to make this place home.

Pauling's quote also holds up in entrepreneurship, too. I've now been doing interviews with a variety of entrepreneurs for five months and I've asked each of them for advice to others who are considering starting a business. All of them have said to give it a shot, recognizing that it takes a couple of years to really get a business off the ground. We might need to kick around a number of different ideas for businesses before we hit upon one that makes our hearts sing, that makes us want to dive in with everything we've got to make it work.

Having lots of ideas requires patience and persistence. We have to be willing to try and try again, and again and again. We need to be patient with ourselves and believe in the slow steady process that leads to true insight and learning. Flashes of quick genius happen once in a while. What is a much more of a sure bet is that if we keep trying new ideas, one will certainly rise to the top.

The photo above is Linus Pauling holding a molecular model. It can be found at: http://osulibrary.orst.edu/specialcollections/coll/pauling/pauling-qv09-198xi.050.jpg

My Year of Hopefulness - Tim Russert, revisited

This weekend it's been one year since we lost Tim Russert. It's only fitting that I'd happen to be in DC this weekend with friends who are celebrating some very big events in their lives - weddings, new jobs, and a general sense of hope despite a tough economy. When Tim passed away one year ago, what stood out to me what the comment that he lived every day as if he had just won the lottery. I wanted to live my life that way, too, so I set about doing that.

I thought about every area of my life and put some ideas into action to improve each. One year later, I'm doing pretty well. It's not the lottery feeling just yet, though there are many, many things that I am grateful for:

I have certainly expanded my writing: blogging daily with an eye toward publishing a selection of posts at year-end as a free e-book and blogging about entrepreneurship for my Examiner.com column.

With my friends and family, I have put forward a significant amount of effort to spend quality, individual time. I used to run around as much as possible to try to fit time in with everyone all the time. The trouble with that method is that I ended up short-changing each, and short-changing myself. The quality time method is working much better.

In my volunteering, I wanted to extend more effort in areas that really interested me. Along with a colleague at work, I am beginning to put together a social media plan for a theatre company I admire. I took my social media interest and knowledge, my background in theatre, and roll-ed it up to do some pro-bono work that will help me build up a portfolio in this area. Using a little creativity, I created a win-win situation for all.

The work side of my life is always a work in progress. With the economy in tough shape, it's the area of my life where I've had to make some compromises. I am learning a lot every day - about product development, what to do and what not to do (I've found the later to be just as important as the former), and I've learned what kind of work is best suited for me going forward. I've really developed the insight that I am passionate about small business (thanks in large part to my Examiner.com column); whether that means working for a small business or working for a large company that helps small businesses, I'm not sure. At the very least, it feels good to finally have that direction in my career and it keeps me looking forward.

Winning the lottery in life is a process - every day, we have to make choices and renew our commitment to living the best life we can. It takes courage to get up and follow our hearts in each area of our lives. And no matter how much work it is, there is no more worthwhile pursuit. I hope Tim would agree.

My Year of Hopefulness - Boundaries

Seth Godin wrote a great post this morning about boundaries. It reminded me of the boxes that one of my leadership professors at Darden, Alec Horniman, talked about: the boxes we put other people into, the boxes we put ourselves into, and the boxes we allow others to put us into. We do this with our careers, relationships, friendships, hobbies, interests. We take on roles and keep them, and it's tough to break the behavior patterns we develop in those roles. And we have a real knack for giving people roles in our lives, whether or not those are the roles they want.

To make sense of our lives and keep us from going crazy, boundaries might be necessary. The key is to make them flexible and adaptable. Seth puts it in perspective of a brand, and explains that the brand can be our own personal one or that of a company. He stresses that brand loyalists are much more forgiving than the holders of a brand give them credit for. We have to give ourselves permission to try new things that truly interest us. If we are authentic and sincere in our pursuit of something new, the people who loves us will help us get there.

I've never been one for being put into a category. I've always felt free to explore different careers and interests, and have made a concerted effort to bring a diverse group of people into my life. From the outside it might seem that I just can't make up my mind about where to focus my time and effort. A recruiter once said to me, "seems like you've spent your whole life exploring." This sounded like a positive thing to me -- apparently he didn't mean it to be positive!

In actuality I have made a very specific decision to follow my interests wherever they may lead. I'm not exploring because I'm lost; I'm exploring because I'm interested in making the most of my life. I want to be someone with a broad perspective, someone who loves traveling, and new experiences, and meeting new people. I want to make sure that when my time comes, I've lived as much life as I possibly could.

My close friends, family, and supporters have been very accepting of this choice. They've celebrated my patchwork life with me. With every new experience, they are there, cheering me on and sometimes my life has even inspired them to do something different that they previously didn't think they do. It's a personal passion to extend my boundaries and grow my comfort zone, and I'd like to help others do the same.

"Man can touch more than he can grasp." ~ Gabriel Marcel

We have a very short time on this planet. While we might think that 80 or 90 years sounds like such a long time, in reality it is the bat of an eye when considering the length of history. In our lifetimes, we'll see and take part in many different experiences with many different people in many different places. And while we might have the instinct to take part in any and every way that we can, we just can't. We have to choose where and how and on whom to spend our time and energy.

Where will we have the most impact? Where will we find the most joy? Do we care about life-long learning or is it connection with others that is most important to us? These types of questions are critical for us to consider and answer when we think about what we'd like to do with our time here.

There are millions of ways for us to make a difference - there are so many places, people, and things that will somehow enter our lives. The only question we really have to answer is, "which experiences we will witness and let pass and which are the ones that are we will hang onto for longer than a moment?"

My Year of Hopefulness - 15 Chances to Turn an Enemy Into a Friend

Extra gum has an interesting saying on the inside of its packaging: "15 chances to turn an enemy into a friend." On my way to the subway this morning I thought about that statement. Extra gum was clearly talk about its 15 sticks of gum. But are there 15 ways to turn an enemy into a friend? I can think of 6 - and that's a start. Any you'd like to share?

1.) Do something nice for someone, even if they haven't been so nice to you. It can be small. It can even be done anonymously. A thoughtful favor can sometimes turnaround a bad attitude.

2.) Consider what their lives must be like outside of the environment we're used to seeing them in. Does that give us some greater insight and understanding about their behavior?

3.) Detach. It's amazing how people stop misbehaving when no one is watching or no one seems to care.

4.) Lay it on the line. By disarming enemies with straight-forward honesty, we can disarm them.

5.) Think of something good about them. My friend, Kelly, is brilliant at this. No matter how much she may dislike someone, she's always able to keep an open mind about them and is determined to learn something from them.

6.) Recognize that everyone comes into our lives for a reason.

Image above can be viewed at: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNetWcbWQxB4S7iwEl7OpjfMk34nU4XwDz3O-KzOtcq7RR9bGdzg_e_WYYPFQYRWJPFyOc5054brEGUf9MoUh3SKuVLfAzQtvtLn-ZkR6EQRVX1_nvrEYanINaSRO7n_l7_S8FHpvfKI4/s400/enemies_love_.jpg

My Year of Hopefulness - People Who Get It

I'm doing a little experiment: spend a week jotting down the names of everyone you speak to and divide them up into two groups - people who get it and people who don't. And by "it" I mean whatever you're passionate about. Bookies, movies, innovation, a new idea for a project at work, a vacation destination. "It" means anything that you want others to listen to, believe, and embrace as their own. "It" is something you want others to buy into.

I found that I spend a solid 50% of my time talking to people who don't get it, and won't get it, no matter how much I try to convince them. That is sunk energy. I am spending 50% of my time with people stating my case and I'd have just as much luck with a brick wall as I do with them. I have been wasting too much time on people who don't get it, and who don't get me. 

Today I went to an Innovator's Network meeting - a group of people dedicated to talking openly and honestly, looking for silver linings amidst some very dark and gathering clouds. These were my people. Or at least some of them were my people. 

It took me a while to find them, a lot of time and effort shouting from the hilltops, and chasing a lot of roads that culminated in dead ends. I spent a lot of time feeling lonely and left out, and out of place. And then I walked into this room today and saw all of these people, gathered together, as if they had been waiting for my arrival. I took my seat among them and smiled. It felt good to be among like minds.     

For the image above, click here.