Step 13: Off the Screen, Into the World

My involvement of social media has led to some amazing friendships in my life. I'm certainly better off for them because they inspire me, support me, and keep me going in pursuit of my dreams. My friends, Col, Laura, Phyllis, Amanda, and the lovely ladies of Owning Pink are examples of this phenomenon. There are amazing people across the globe who are my kindred spirits, and social media has allowed me to connect with them.

One of my favorite outcomes of this process is getting to meet these amazing virtual people in person, when I get to read their witticisms online, and then realize they are even more fantastic in person. Tonight I got to meet up with Amanda, one of my favorite social media friendship success stories. Long-considering a move to New York City, Amanda began looking for creativity focused blogs by New York City authors. Amanda found my blog via random search, and then we discovered that we went to the same college, graduated the same year, loved yoga, performed, and were writers. Tonight we got to meet in-person for the first time, and 2.5 hours later, we still had loads to say. What a great feeling!

There's been a lot of criticism of social media because some consider it so impersonal. "It's replacing real-world interaction," some people say. "People spend too much time in front of a computer and not enough time living their lives," others say. Both valid arguments, though I've found such a rich, contrary existence in social media. It's allowed me to connect with people whom I may never have met otherwise, people who enrich my life and share my sensibilities and dreams. Social media's brought me friendships I never expected, and for that I am incredibly grateful!

Step 12: Old Friends

Last night, I stopped over at my friend Ben’s house for his annual Winter Party. It’s been about three years since I’ve seen him. We are friends from my way-back days in theatre and he’s been successfully touring around the country ever since. He’s back in town now and so the Winter Party resumed this year. At the party, I saw two other friends, August and Jessica, from the same tour that Ben and I worked on. It had been many more years since I’d seen them. I laughed out loud so many times that I lost count. I was reminded at how much I love rekindling old friendships. It feels good to know they’ve been out in the world, active and happy, and that we can pick up where we left off.

On my way home, I thought about other people I’ve lost touch with over the years, despite our best efforts. It’s to be expected as people’s lives move forward, and I’ve also changed jobs and cities quite a bit. With the advent of social media it’s now so much easier to be in touch and keep track of people we love having in our lives. I’m so grateful for that. In the past year I’ve been fortunate to find so many people again, and am always amazed how similar the tracks of our lives are, despite the distance. It’s been a true gift to reconnect.

I can’t help but think that some of these connections are coming back into my life at just the right time: that we’ll be working on projects together, supporting one another in our dreams and ambitions, or even just providing one another with a good laugh and a thoughtful ear. It’s so much easier to build an extraordinary life when we connect with and surround ourselves with extraordinary people.

Step 7: Nothing Left to Lose

A friend of mine is making his final pitch tomorrow. In a job that he's grown tired of, and quite frankly is far too talented for, he's going to the powers-that-be (and I use the word powers very lightly) to see if he can get funding for a project that interests him. The chance to work on this project is the only reason he would stay at the job. Otherwise, he's leaving to get his own business going. His bravery inspires me.

My friend has been looking to make this move for a while, though like so many he wanted to do the reasonable, responsible thing in a difficult economy. At a time when so many are out of work, he was nervous about voluntarily leaving his job. As much as some economists will tout that the recession is over, there are many dissenting voices who say it will be a long, slow climb out of this hole. So what changed for my friend? How did he make a change within his own mind when little around him has changed? Where did his boldness come from?

"Well, Christa, I have nothing left to lose now," he told me today. "This is the only project on the table that interests me and if I can't work on it, then I've got to make myself useful somewhere else. I just can't stay where I am anymore."

On the phone today, I was bursting with pride for my friend. He flipped that switch, recognized and embraced his own talents, and recognized how they could be used in his current situation. More importantly, he realized that if his gifts couldn't be utilized where he is then he has to make use of them somewhere else. Leaving them unused is no longer an option in his own heart.

To be sure, in the last few weeks leading up to this decision he has at times felt completely terrified. I'd argue that this means he's really on to something here. It's amazing what we can accomplish when we realize that the direction of our lives really is up to us.

My Year of Hopefulness - Learning to Love Through the Particular

"The love of humanity is a noble sentiment, but most of the time we live our lives by smaller solidarities. We learn to love humanity not in general, but through its particular expressions." ~ Montesquieu

Michael Sandel used this quote by Montesquieu in one of his recent lectures on Justice. I spend a lot of time being of use to people I don't know, many of whom I'll never meet, many of whom I'll never even know by name. They are the people I help through my volunteer work, who come across this blog though never reach out to me directly, people who are helped by the nonprofits I donate money to.

I learned to care about the hungry because when I was a kid, I knew what it felt like to be hungry. I learned to write some inspiring words because the inspiring words of so many other writers helped me when I really needed to hear words of encouragement. I learned how important alumni donations are because some alumni helped me receive financial aid through their own charitable contributions; their donations helped me get the education that changed the course of my life so now I donate to my schools so that others like me can receive the help they need. I learned to love children because of my niece, Lorelei, and I learned to love people in general because of how much I love my own family and friends. My particular circumstances shaped how I look at the world as a whole.

This holiday, I wanted to do something special for some people close to me, and in honor of those people, I wanted to do something special for others that I don't know personally. I bought individual Christmas cards for my relatives. After a few recent passings in my family, I realized that I had no more need for a box of Christmas cards. I only needed a handful. I teared up a little in the greeting card aisle and then smiled as I picked out individual cards for my aunties, uncles, and cousins. I packed up a great big box for my immediate family filled with all kinds of goodies - some shared and some individual ones. For New Year's, I'll be having a little party in Florida for some of my very favorite friends. I am so happy to be able to do special things for people I really love.

And for the long-term impact: I have always bought Sebastian, our wonderful family dog, a present for Christmas. This is our first holiday without him, so in his honor I donated to the ASPCA. This week I received a magazine in the mail from Heifer International. It told the stories of the many people that they have helped to reach sufficiency. The stories were so moving that for the first time, I donated to their organization, asking that my contribution be put toward their honey bee program. The hives that my money will provide to several needy families have the ability to turn around an entire village in a very short period of time. So many people helped my family when we really needed the help, and this is a way to pay that kindness forward. It feels good to spread the wealth, to return so many of the favors that I've received over my lifetime.

This Christmas I've enjoyed spending a little time reflecting on my own particular circumstances. I've been thinking about the times when I really needed help, and who helped me, and how. And now that I've come through some tough situations, I want to help someone else, equally in need, whose needs I can identify with. I do believe that the Universe helps those who help themselves, and I also believe that every once in a while the Universe could use a little help and by being that help, we find that our own riches grow.

My Year of Hopefulness - Find Your "T"

This morning on the plane home I read an article from Stanford's Social Innovation Review entitled "Design Thinking for Social Innovation" by IDEO's Tim Brown and Jocelyn Wyatt. In the article the talk about looking for team members who have their own "T". The vertical line of the "T" is each team member's unique skill or knowledge that they bring to a cross-functional team and the horizontal line of the "T" is a shared set of characteristics that all of the team members share: empathy, respect for the unique talents of others, openness, curiosity, optimism, a tendency to learn by doing, and experimentation.

I like this approach to team-building because it inherently incorporates diversity into the structure of a successful team while also making sure that team members are cut from the same cloth at a very basic human values level. I also think it's a healthy recipe for building out friendships and relationships in our lives, as well as a good strategy for building a family. It's a formula for accumulating a set of good-hearted, talented people. And isn't that the kind of people we'd all like to surround ourselves with?

How does one go about building a personal "T"? Can empathy, curiosity, and optimism be taught or are these traits we must be born with? Can we build an education system that instills and nurtures these values into our children at the very beginning of their learning years? I'd like to think that we're all born curious, and I'd like to think that our natural creative, empathic nature is so strong that even if we have lost our way, these tendencies can be recovered and strengthened.

And what about that vertical in the "T"? How do we discover what makes us special? Is that something special about each of us something we are born with or is it something that we learn? And can it be changed throughout our lives? I believe that the answer is a resounding "yes" on all counts. My special trait is my storytelling, my writing. While I have a natural inclination for this, it requires practice. I certainly wasn't born knowing how to write well. I needed to put a lot of time and effort into it, though because I enjoyed it and saw a rapid rate of improvement with my practice, I was encouraged to become an even better writer.

I've seen this same pattern with every person in my life: my brother-in-law who is a fine painter, my friend, Kelly, who is a master project manager, my friend, Ken, who is a beautiful dancer and a gifted physical therapy assistant, my friend, Brooke, who is one of the most promising young acting talents on television, and my friend and mentor, Richard, who is one of the most successful and talented fundraisers in the nonprofit field. Incidentally, they all have a fabulous sense of humor and are some of the kindest people I've ever met.

I suppose that there are Mozarts and Einsteins among us, walking around, born brilliant, born as prodigies. I just don't know any. All of the brilliant people in my life, and I am very fortunate to have many, have found and leveraged their "T" because they have worked hard at something they love. And they're better off for this because their hard work also gives them the empathy and appreciation they need to be not only brilliant, but to be imbued with hearts of gold. Their "T"s are apparent in every part of their lives. They give me an example to strive for and are my greatest reason for hope.

My Year of Hopefulness - More Thankful Than Ever

"A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all the other virtues." ~ Cicero

This Thanksgiving is a particularly special one for me. All week I have been with my family in Florida, playing and laughing and cooking, grateful for all of this time with them. I've never spent this much time with them over the holidays. In a year that has been so difficult, in a year when I came very close to not being here at all, I can hardly think of something I'm not grateful for. This Thanksgiving was a big milestone for me because I have been using it as a marker to a time I wanted to get to, a time when I would be in a position to make some big decisions about my life going forward. And this week I have - applying to a PhD program, formulating my own business plan, signing up for a full yoga teacher certification course. Life is looking grand from this side of Thanksgiving.

Today I am very thankful for my family and friends and mentors, people who have not only been supporting me through this difficult year, but also encouraging me to get the most out of my time here.

Earlier this week Weez and I went to the grocery store to do some Thanksgiving shopping and we talked about the fire in my apartment building. I told her how that event really eradicated any fear I have about all aspects of my future; when you almost don't get a tomorrow, every day is gravy so I might as well get on with doing exactly what I want to do with my days. No more compromises. There's no sense in waiting. She agreed, as has everyone in my life that I've talked to about this experience. That fire made every day Thanksgiving for me.

I'm grateful for my health and my ability to imagine a new future with new dreams. Surprisingly, I'm thankful for all that I lost this year because it has made me so grateful for what I have. It cleaned out my life and made room for a drastically better future than the life I was living. It made me realize that a lot of good can be created from something terrible so long as we have the right attitude, so long as we embrace the idea that everything we live through can be an opportunity for learning, for strength, for love. It's this learning, strength, and love that I am most thankful for and I plan to use this thankfulness to bring these new dreams of mine to life.

My Year of Hopefulness - Safety in Change

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." ~ Alan Cohen

My friend, Rob, and I were talking about safety a few weeks ago. Rob talked to me about how we've conned ourselves into believing that a company, a job, can give us some feeling of security and stability when really it's a house of cards. I've seen it happen to so many of my friends - they are cranking along in their jobs, exhibiting exceptional performance and results, and then the pink slip. Rob's advice on my news of moving on: "You've done the hard part: making the choice to step outside the box that hems one in, and keeps one from dreaming bigger dreams...know you are supported from many quadrants. More as it goes..."

I emailed some friends about my impending jump off the cliff. I told them that it feels great to have made this decision, though my friend, Eric, in his characteristic empathy sensed that I'm scared. And then in his continuing characteristic empathy, he responded : "Don't worry, Christa - I already hit rock bottom underneath that cliff - so I'll be there to catch you!" Not at all surprising since Eric honestly saved my life as I muddled through my MBA. My friend Laura simply responded "I am 150000% behind you." My friend, Allan, said "You are very brave and thoughtful." These are the very messages I needed today to lift me up.

When I think about finding security and stability, I'm reminded that it's in our friends and family and in the chance we take on our own abilities that we can find a haven. The safest route for me is not to stand on that cliff hoping that it doesn't crumble beneath me; it's to jump, knowing that friends like Rob, Eric. Laura, and so many others are there to catch me if I need catching. They are the ones I can place my faith and trust in.

My friend, Jamie, finished up his last day at his job today. We went for a celebratory dinner, yummy cheap Thai food around the corner from my apartment at Sura. We toasted to our new adventures, to our choice to be free and to build the lives we want to live. And while there is still that underlying ripple of fear of the unknown, fear of what's next, there is also a tremendous sense of excitement, of realizing that we are on the edge of becoming more ourselves.

I was reminded all day today, through so many different channels, that in September I came very close to never getting a tomorrow. I stood on West 96th Street, watching smoke billow out of my building, realizing I was living a life of great comfort and little meaning. That great "what if" hangs over my head every day, and rather than being plagued by it, I am so grateful for it. What if I hadn't made it out of that building? What if that was the end? Could I have looked back on September 4th and said, "yes, I'm so glad that I was living that life?" No - not at all. In that moment, change became not an option, but an inevitability, and it's been driving me forward, upward, and onward toward a life lived with greater meaning, greater purpose, every day since.

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

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 - The Blessing of Mistakes

"A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery." ~ James Joyce, Irish novelist, from Ulysses

The passing of time can be a frustrating thing. We may spend time on one activity that leads us to a dead-end when we could have spent that time on something that would have lead us to a success. It's easy to become overwhelmed by how many ways we have to spend our time; so many in fact that we might feel that no matter how much we love what we're doing, we could always be doing something that would make us even happier. The odd paradox of choice, as Barry Schwartz calls it. Too many opportunities leads us to too many opportunity costs. These increased opportunity costs are beginning to effect the way we view failure and mistakes.

Rather than valuable learning tools, we might be tempted to view them as a waste of time. Why should I try and fail and learn when there are so many other things I could be trying and possibly succeeding at? And yet we know that failure is a part of this life. We have to fail. We have to stretch ourselves well beyond our comfort zones, well beyond even the most optimistic view of our own abilities. If we don't push our limits and fail, then we'll never know exactly how much we can achieve. Unrealized achievement that was within our grasp had we pushed a little harder is far worse than failure.

I think about failure a lot. In terms of jobs and relationships and pursuits I've considered, even in places where I moved and tried to make a home. Sometimes I feel badly about all my failures, and then I consider so many of my brave friends and family who just refused to let fear stand in their way. My friend, Phyllis, who just today wrote to me and said she left her job to focus on her own business full-time. "I'm secretly scared sh*tless," she said. "I think that’s probably fairly normal for anyone who quits a well-paying job in this crappy economy." I agree. And I'm so proud of her and inspired by her actions.

My friend, Allan, has a good paying job, albeit a little boring for him. He had the opportunity to continue with a new assignment there - one he could certainly do if he could just resign himself to not liking the job. Instead, he's taking a risk and going back to school for a graduate degree in mathematics, his greatest passion.

I have a few friends who are getting married next year. And guess what? They're all scared, too. They're afraid of failing, of being hurt, of hurting someone else. They're afraid of letting other people down, of wasting someone else's time. They're afraid they aren't enough. When I asked them if they really thought this was a good idea, to be getting married, they all said yes unequivocally. "Marriage," one of them said to me, "is the greatest leap of faith there is. We can be afraid of failure. We just can't let it prevent us from going after happiness."

What if we could think of failure as a blessing? What if we could seek out failure as a great teacher? And what if we opened up our hearts and minds and accepted and forgave our own failures and the failures of others, too? Would that kind of acceptance and forgiveness make the failures easier to bear and the successes that much sweeter to earn?

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

My Year of Hopefulness - Owning Pink's Tribute

I usually only publish one hopeful inspiration per day on this blog. Today is special for a lot of reasons, so I'm publishing two.

One month ago today, my apartment building caught fire, and set off a month of changes in my life that I never saw coming. Quite, frankly, none of them were changes I wanted. They were uncomfortable, sad changes that made me question everything in my life. Everything. One month ago today, at this very moment, I ran out of my burning building, fire crackling underneath my kitchen floor. I was standing on the street with nothing but my keys, watching my building burn. I was crying, scared, and alone. And much to my surprise, I emerged from this month, today, a stronger, happier, more confident person than I ever was before.

So it is with such heart-felt thanks I wanted to pay a big Pink tribute to a group of women who are one of the very best parts of my life. Today my lovely friends, Lissa and Joy, over at Owning Pink, an on-line community I belong to, honored me by making one of my recent blog posts, a letter I wrote to October, their mainstage story. I barely know what to say. I had no idea that my little post would inspire such beautiful writing from others women whom I respect and admire so much. I cried when I read the story that Joy and Lissa wrote about my post. I really don't have any words to tell them how honored and fortunate I feel to have them in my life.

Today I realized with clarity how much good we have to offer by sharing our stories. One of my favorite quotes is by Isak Dinesen: "All sorrows can be borne if you can put them into a story." I am living proof of this. As the telling of our stories frees us, they also allow others to free themselves through their own writing. The ladies of Owning Pink also made me realize without a doubt that I can make a go-of-it as a full-time writer. It's a gift that I am not sure how to repay.

Owning Pink is a community I am so fortunate to be a part of. They have gone above and beyond the call for me during the last few weeks of my life that have been so difficult. Their love and support is a gift in my life that I truly cherish and I look forward to being there for them in the months and years ahead. Here's to a beautiful, enlightened October for all of us!

To view the story on Owning Pink's website please visit:
http://www.owningpink.com/2009/10/05/mojo-monday-exercise-write-a-letter-to-october/

My Year of Hopefulness - The Woods Can Wait

I woke up at 5:45 on Sunday morning with the feeling that it was Christmas. I could barely sleep I was so excited. My friend and writing partner, Laura, made plans a few weeks ago to head up to Lake Minnewaska today with a group called Adventure Society. I've been interested in trying out their trips for over a year and Sunday was the day.

Got a new backpack, some gear at Patagonia, and bought a slew of snacks at Whole Foods. I was a bit surprised at the extensive "to-bring" list that Adventure Society emailed to us. My sister, Weez, and I used to go trekking up to that area regularly when we were kids donning sweatshirts and flip-flops. I grew up very close to Lake Minnewaska, and all we ever brought along was a bag of chips and some water. Maybe when you grow up in the mountains you're hardier than most others would be in that climate.

The subway was just not working properly so after waiting for 20 minutes, I hopped into a cab and headed to the meeting spot on 59th and 9th. I didn't want to be late and miss the group - they stated very clearly that "we wait for no one". Laura was there along with a few others. I wouldn't call the other people unfriendly, but I certainly wouldn't say I was excited about being in a van with them for two hours in each direction. Hmmmm....was this a good idea?

About 20 minutes later, we were still at Starbucks. Apparently our trip leader had been mugged late on Saturday night, had the van keys, and couldn't be located. The substitute trip leader said he was heading down to 39th and 9th to pick up a new van. I felt a little dark cloud making its way over our group.

By 8:30, I started to really questions whether or not this was a good idea. Still at Starbucks, the traffic would be tough now and the trip would be cut short by a significant amount. Being quicker than I am to pick up questionable vibes, Laura had decided 15 minutes ago that this didn't sound like a good idea at all. So we bid our group farewell, left the Starbucks, and headed up to Central Park on a hike of our own.

We wound our way East and then back West again. We eventually ended up at Sarabeth's with never-empty cups of coffee, a plate full of pancakes between us to share with our own individual meals to boot. I was overjoyed to not be in that van. Just being with a good friend, talking about our writing, was all I really needed this morning. The trees and grass and squirrels would have been great, though our ability to be flexible and accept to what the world had handed us today gave us just as much happiness.

"We can just go some other time," I said.

"Yes," Laura said. "I mean, where are the woods going?" We smiled at each other and chowed down.

We had a whole free day. Laura went home to work on the TJCC site re-design. I went back to my apartment, got out of my multiple layers of hiking clothes, and made my way to the Rose Main Reading Room to be a writer for the day. Sitting in that incredible room, laptop shining, I smiled at having the day to myself to live inside my imagination. (If ever you need to be concentrated and inspired, I highly recommend the Rose Main Reading Room at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street.) My new Patagonia pull-over was supposed to be used for hiking in the mountains and instead I made use for it in the heavily air conditioned library. I was enormously productive. After four hours of straight writing, it's a safe bet that if you're looking for me on my free days, there I'll be, fourth table from the back, glasses on, laptop opened, surrounded by books and papers, typing away.

As I headed home, I grabbed a cupcake from Crumbs, and thought about Robert Frost: The woods are lovely dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles [to write] before I sleep, and miles [to write] before I sleep. "At least for today," I thought, "the woods will just have to wait."

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

My Year of Hopefulness - Lunch with God

On Monday afternoon, I got angry. Throughout the day I found myself running into the ladies room for short spurts of tears, and then cleaned myself up and returned to my desk. I don’t like to work this way but the heavy load demands it at the moment. In the shower this morning, as I was crying, again, over the loss of our family dog, I started to shake my head in disbelief. How could the Universe let this happen?

At lunch time, I went to my favorite little sandwich shop and took a seat in Trinity Churchyard near Alexander Hamilton. I've been going to Trinity a lot during lunch lately. Last night I didn't sleep too well and I thought a walk over to Trinity might help me clear my head. And then something very odd happened, as if Hamilton's feisty spirit and his inability to ignore injustice inspired me. I was tearing up behind my sunglasses and then this burst of anger came to the forefront of my mind. It was a little un-nerving because I am not at all an angry person by nature. Anger, mine or anyone else’s, makes me very nervous. Without being able to stop it, I began to have a stern conversation with God, silently.

“I really hope you’re happy because now you’ve really done it. You have screwed up royally here. It wasn’t enough to have my apartment building catch fire, have me almost get trapped inside, and then destroy most of my belongings with smoke. You had to take my dog, too? Really? You must be really proud of yourself up there, divine and content, messing with all of us down here. My sister’s crying. My brother-in-law’s crying. I’m crying. I accept that most of the losses that I’ve had in my life were timely. Sebastian’s was not. He was only 7! Our last dog lived to be 17! A full decade longer! I hate to say it, God, but you were wrong on this one. Completely wrong. I must emphatically disagree with you; it was not Sebastian’s time yet. You pulled the plug on him way too early and I’m really pissed off at you for that. We needed some more years with him. He deserved some more years with us. I really hope the next time something like this comes up, you think a little bit harder about what you’re doing. And by the way, I have had more than my fair share of sadness this month. Actually, I’ve had enough for the remainder of the year, maybe for the remainder of the next few years so you are really going to have to back off. I’m sick of going through boxes of tissues in a day. I’m sick of feeling disappointed and sad and frustrated and scared. There’s a big ol’ lesson in all of this for me. I get it. I hear you. 'Nothing is permanent.' Fine. 'We have to be flexible.' Got it. 'We need to accept that with great love must also come great loss.' Check. 'Some days, we’re the pigeon and some days we’re the statue.' I understand that, and I’m telling you I’ve reached my quota of statue days. Enough!”

And then I let out a big, big sigh. I looked over at Alexander Hamilton, and then around at the other people sitting near me having lunch. And though my thoughts just now raged inside my mind, it seems that no one else heard me. Except God. He heard me. I knew he did, and I think he’s a little ashamed of his recent behavior toward me. And he should be. The piling up of this month’s events was really uncalled for. Whew – that was scary but it felt great. I needed to get that out.

As I got back onto Broadway and headed North, I found my smile again. I even laughed a little. I just yelled at God – really yelled at him. (I’ve never yelled at anyone like that ever. Actually, I can’t even remember the last time I raised my voice. I was probably a teenager!) Tiny little me, 5’2”, 110-pound me, just yelled at the Creator of the Universe. And he listened. He didn’t try to deny my grief or anger or sadness. He didn’t try to make it better or soothe my weary mind. He showed up and just listened. He eeked out a very small “I’m sorry” and I whispered back “I accept your apology.”

We have a funny relationship, God and I. Throughout my life I have at times adored him and doubted him. Sometimes I have flat out walked away and left him in the dust. And then I realized that I wanted him back, and when I peeked around the corner of faith again, a little embarrassed that I stormed off, there he was. Right where I left him. Waiting patiently, just like Sebastian would wait for us to get home. They're more alike than I realized. Animals are more virtuous that we recognize - they might be the closest we ever get to a holy presence on Earth. I think God and I are going to be okay now. And I think Sebastian is okay, too.

As I got closer to my office, I felt that awful terrible weight from Sunday lift off my heart slightly. It’s still there. I got over my apartment and belongings going up in smoke, though I really miss Sebastian, and always, always will. I miss knowing that he’s not in the world anymore. That I won’t be able to hug him again, or take him for a walk, or rub his cute little belly. I would have liked just one more hug, and sadly that wish will not be fulfilled until I cross over to where he is now. Waiting for us, as he always was here on Earth. God better make sure Sebastian’s up there, well taken care of, and ready for me to take him for his walk when we all get back together again.

My friend, Amy, is a conflict resolution and trauma expert. I spent a long time on the phone with her on Sunday night, talking through what I’ve been feeling this month. She refers to this process of grief as the glass of water analogy. We can think of difficult times as being a specific amount of water and ourselves as glasses. Each time we encounter something difficult, the respective amount of water gets poured into our glass. I could have dealt with any one of the sad circumstances from this month, but putting them all together within 3 weeks' times was just too much and my glass has overflowed with sadness.

The overflow happens sometimes, and as my pal, Laura, said to me "it sucks and it's okay to feel like it sucks for a while." Eventually the only thing to do is to sop up the excess water and start to empty our glass, even it’s just one little teaspoon at a time. The love and support from my friends and family this month has been such an amazing source of strength, and they're helping me bail out the water from my glass. It’s going to take me a little time to get that glass emptied but I am 100% committed to getting it done. Alison Krauss, one of my favorite musicians, sings a song that goes “Just get me through December, A promise I’ll remember, Get me through December, So I can start again.” Her December is my September, and I am almost through it. After a very long, sad month, I feel like I’m moving in the right direction.

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

My Year of Hopefulness - At the End of the Test

One can't learn much and also be comfortable. One can't learn much and let anybody else be comfortable.

~ Charles Fort, Wild Talents

On Friday night I went for a walk with my friend, Dan. We wound our way through Central Park talking about recent events in our lives, challenges we're facing, things we're excited about. We got onto the subject of testing. When recently talking to a friend of his about a particular circumstance he's working though the friend said, "Like Job, you are being tested." Dan's response was a simple question, "What do I get if I pass the test?" I've been thinking about that question all weekend.

As I was working through my yoga practice this morning, I was thinking about the idea of comfort versus discomfort. Times of testing are often uncomfortable times. We just want to get through them as quickly as possible. We want the shortest path to relief. Yoga teaches us to be comfortable being uncomfortable, sinking into the pose, going deeper, as opposed to pulling away often helps us. Perhaps the shortest relief to discomfort is through, similar that old saying of "If you're going through hell, keep going." Every day that saying makes more sense to me.

Maybe Charles Fort is correct: If we shrank away every situation that was challenging, every situation that brought some kind of fear or discomfort, perhaps we'd never learn anything. If we embrace fear, discomfort, and confusion for the sake of learning, maybe challenging times become easier to bear. Maybe learning is the prize at the end of our test. All that's required of us is patience and commitment. We just have to keep showing up, for ourselves and for one another.

My Year of Hopefulness - Value we can't see

A week ago, I found myself in Barnes & Noble nosing around in the children's fiction department. In order to begin working on the scripts for my education program, I wanted to get a feel for a 6th grader's vocabulary, sentence structure, and plot complexity. I was wandering around the store feeling underwhelmed. Where were all of the good children's books?

And then just as I was leaving a small set of books caught my eye. Published by Scholastic, Blue Balliett wrote a set of kids mystery books that involve several main characters that carry over in the series. I picked up The Wright 3, a book about three 6th grade friends who find themselves in a race to save the Robie House, Frank Lloyd Wright's Chicago masterpiece, from demolition. I found it oddly comforting over this last week because of several key messages it offers in a very forthright fashion - just the way that kids do.

1.) "Don't give up. In darkness, much work can be accomplished." I think about how much darkness was in that stairwell of my old apartment building during the fire. So much raced through my mind as I scrambled down the stairs - from "stop drop and roll" to things I never got a chance to say people whom I care about to "I will get out of this building unharmed". In darkness, we develop a keen sense of sight and insight for things that we cannot see in broad daylight.

2.) "Sometimes when you lose something, you end up getting something else. Only you can't know about the second thing until you've lost the first...losing is sometimes gaining." It's human nature to lament a loss of any kind whether it's our home, our belongings, our jobs, a relationship. What's so often under-appreciated is that losing something makes room for something new, and often better than what we had before, and it gives us a new appreciation for the things and people we do have in our lives. It takes a while to see that trade-off as a good one. In the past I have hung on to a sense of loss for far too long. I am trying to change that.

3.) "It's sometimes hard to tell the line between real and unreal." This world and the energies it contains work in mysterious ways. Magic and things that cannot be explained are constantly at work. Our life is full of coincidences. People appear in our lives, then disappear, then reappear again. An opportunity comes around, we may pass on it, and then it comes around again for a second and third chance. This world always has something to teach us.

4.) "Sometimes little things can appear big, and big things little." This idea is especially powerful for me this week. I used to think I needed so many things. My apartment was filled with things I loved, things I could not imagine living without. In the end very little of it mattered. Actually, none of it really matters too much. My health and the people I love are really the only things that matter to me now.

5.) "What you notice first isn't always what you're looking for." This is my favorite idea from The Wright 3. We're so quick to judge, categorize and title a person, place, or thing. And sometimes the value we connote to an item or a person isn't permanent. Some things and people become more valuable to us with time, and it can be a long, slow process to figure out just what the right value should be. We owe it to ourselves to give things and people a chance to prove their worth. The reality of a situation is not always what it initially presents itself to be.

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 - A Lucky Place to Lay My Head

My friend, Liz (another unwitting angel), was able to connect me to a friend of hers regarding an apartment. Her friend sent me the management company's contact info. I emailed them right away and they were able to show me a studio apartment that's available immediately, in my same neighborhood, in my price range. This story is miraculous enough with just these details though the other coincidences are striking.

My apartment building caught fire on Saturday afternoon and by tonight, I have a new place to live. It's a pent house studio with outdoor space, lots of light, a dishwasher, full-size appliances, a very large closet, doorman, elevator, laundry in-building, art deco building, only one month security, no broker fee, beautiful view of the skyline and the Hudson River. Skeptical? Me too. It gets better.

It's one of the first buildings in New York City that takes American Express as a form of payment for rent. And until this morning, the apartment had been listed as having an application in. It's been that way for weeks. However, the application fell through some time ago and the list did not update for some odd reason until this morning.

Tomorrow I will get two checks for the realty company and at lunchtime will hop uptown to sign the lease. This apartment hunt all wrapped up in less than 48 hours and I got a space where I feel safe. Life changes so fast. All we can do is be ready - for good luck and bad luck. Both are bound to turn up in our lives at one time or another. And while I hope I have seen the later of these for some time to come, I'm so abundantly grateful that during this difficult transition I've still been able to find, receive, and recognize blessings.

My Year of Hopefulness - Unwitting Angels

I believe in guardian angels, divine moments of intervention, and the continuous play between the world we see and the world just beyond our vision. While I do believe that angels walk among us, I also believe that we have the ability, at every moment, to be angels to one another.

In the aftermath of the fire in my apartment building, there is a lot of chaos. I am now dealing with adjusters from my renter's insurance. (Thank God I have renter's insurance. If you don't, please stop reading this post and by it immediately through Liberty Mutual at http://www.libertymutual.com. A $181 annual premium buys you $25,000 worth of coverage with a $500 deductible.) I also have buyer's protection on my charge card so I need to make an inventory for them so I can be reimbursed for damaged items. I have to find a new place to live. I'll have to rebuild a stock of personal items.

And you know what? It's all okay. I am monumentally lucky to be alive and physically unscathed. Much of that is due to the amazing love and support and concern of my friends and family, from people who read my online writing and follow my usually fun antics on Twitter. This is the power of community. This is the power of unwitting angels - people who show up as little rays of light just when we need that light most. It's always there, it sometimes just takes a different lens of experience to see it.

My friend, Amber, one of my unwitting angels in this situation, has graciously offered me her apartment for the week while she's out of town. I came to pick up the keys from her, and we got to talking about how incidents like my apartment building fire change our perspective. She thinks I will quickly adopt the policy of "omeletitgo" - I'm just gonna let it all go. From this point forward, all those little frustrations and annoyances that build up in our day to day lives just don't matter. The physical stuff we accumulate just doesn't matter. If all goes up in smoke, it doesn't matter.

All that does matter is kindness. How do we support and love and care for one another in good times and bad? How can we help those in crisis? How can we serve one another to make all of our days a bit easier? How can we all be a part of the global brigade of unwitting angels?

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

My Year of Hopefulness - Go the Other Way

I went to the US Open today. It was a welcome relief from yesterday's chaos and the fallout that is about to ensue. I'm not at all pleased with the landlord's response to the fire in my building. There will not be any additional safety measures taken to secure the building and they will not do any cleaning of the units. In his words "You should probably feel safe living there." Thanks, for nothing. So as soon as possible, I'll be on the move again and in the mean time I am grateful, as always, for the amazing friends in my life who are helping me out through this difficult time. I am blessed to be alive and surrounded by so many incredible souls.

At the US Open, I was watching the Del Porto vs. Koehlerer match. It was an amazing competition to watch. I was sitting next to a few young kids, probably high school age, who wanted to get the wave going. They tried in one direction and got barely any traction. After a few unsuccessful attempts, they gave up, and then someone from a section in the opposite direction told the high schoolers to pass the wave over to them. It caught on like wildfire, and went all the way around the stadium, several times, including through the section that hadn't taken it up when the wave was passed directly to them.

Fun to watch, the wave helped me adjust to my changing situation. I was getting so upset about my apartment, about not having a place to live, again, having to crash with friends, again, and the general attitude and lack of concern from my landlord. Keith put things in perspective for me. My apartment building is not safe, and I'm so disturbed by the lack of concern that my landlords are showing for their tenants that I'm never going to be comfortable there. So better to just adjust, pack, and go someplace else. "Yes, it sucks," Keith said. "But that's all. It just sucks. You're okay, a lot of your things are okay, and all you have to do is move."

I have accept that this change has happened, and now I have to change, too. Getting frustrated and angry at the situation won't help, no matter how angry or frustrated I get. Just like the high schoolers and the wave, I need to go in the opposite direction. It's the only way forward. So here I go again...

My Year of Hopefulness - Success in Writing

"To appreciate beauty; to give of one's self, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived -- that is to have succeeded." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last week I sent an email off to a nonfiction writer whose work I greatly admire. She writes the histories of people who defied odds to create something truly remarkable in the world. I wanted to interview her for The Journal of Cultural Conversation. I was delighted when she emailed me immediately to say she'd love to be featured. I fired off a set of questions to her and waited for her response.

As I read her answers, I found myself nodding my head in full agreement with everything she said. Until I got to the final question: "What advice do you have for aspiring writers?" Her response: "Honestly, we're in such a difficult time for non-fiction writers because the Internet has blown up the longtime economic models, I'm not sure how newcomers are supposed to make a living. I started off in newspapers and then briefly free-lanced for magazines. What newspapers are hiring today and what's the future of magazines? The on-line sites pay nothing or tiny amounts. Ebooks may well undermine the publishing model that makes sizable advances possible. So, I truly don't know how young writers will develop paying careers. And I find that sad." Ouch.

I sat back at my desk and let out a long, slow sigh. I can't possibly publish that answer with the interview. And then I considered why I was so resistant to that answer. After all, this writer sent me this very honest answer, and I always want honesty from people I interview. I don't want candy-coated metaphors. Tell me what you think and how you feel. She did, and now I'm upset. Not exactly fair of me, is it?

Let's consider this from her point of view - she's a very established writer. She'd put out tomes that are the definitive works of the people she's written about. She's in the industry of publishing and she's frustrated by the changes she sees occurring. We're all entitled to feel frustrated from time to time. Maybe she was in a bad mood when she got my email. Maybe she was hungry - I get cranky when I'm hungry, too.

In this conversation with myself, I had to ask the question, "why am I doing this? All this writing? What am I trying to do here?" Recently a friend of mine questioned my motive about my writing. Out of concern, the friend thinks I might be wasting my time with all this work. At first this comment really hurt me, particularly because I have always been so encouraging of this friend. With this question before me, an answer quickly and easily surfaced, much to my surprise.

I'm not trying to make a living as a writer. I make a good living as a product developer, and I enjoy that work immensely. But it's not my life. Writing is helping me build a life I'm happy with and proud of. It's helping me to connect with interesting, passionate, inspiring people. I learn so much through these connections. And most of all, my writing is helping others. I get emails, texts, phone calls, and online comments on a variety of sources about how much my posts have helped them. It's humbling. With writing, I'm doing some good in the world, and that's all I'm really after.

The author I interviewed may be absolutely right - perhaps the publishing / writing paradigm has shifted forever due to technological advances. Maybe a career like hers, the way that she built it, just isn't going to be possible going forward. And that's just fine with me. Change arrives on our doorstep every moment, and there's no way to shut it out. We can't stop the world from transforming. What we can do, and what I try to do everyday, is show up in the world, tell my stories with honesty and grace, with the hope that some of them resonate with another soul. That's really all I ever need in this life - to reach out, connect, and feel like I'm part of the global conversation.

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.