Who do I want to be?

Halloween is in the air and on the mind because it’s Friday night of Halloweekend and I’m going to a friend’s birthday soon. It’s such a fun energy and time, always—a time where we all get to ask ourselves, who do I want to be? Or, what? And get to ask each other, What are you going to be??

Of course I’ve made this spiritual/philosophical/whatever over dinner just now, and realized that often when I check in with myself, whether in reflection, like journaling, or preparation, like heading into a meeting, day or outing, I’m asking myself: Who do I want to be? Who do I want to be in this moment, how do I want to be? How do I want to show up?

So, boo, Halloween is kind of all the time and this little note is my way of reminding myself. And I like that idea; it makes the possibility and impermanence of a holiday where you can be anything for a time feel like forever fun.

May we always know our worth

A good friend of mine at work, who is an amazing human and amazing at her job (and does even more, like providing important and heartfelt support for diversity, equity and inclusion programs) was recently promoted. After she shared the news, I asked her how she was feeling, and she said, “Like it was well deserved!” And I loved that. Because it was. And because I realized how uncommon it is to hear women feel empowered to respond like that, without the learned, conditioned behavior of feeling like they, we, have to divert attention from ourselves, unnecessarily humble ourselves in what is a shining moment. “Yesss!” I responded. “May we always know our worth!” She, we deserved to honor and celebrate that. Her promotion, her worth.

May we always know our worth. (Especially in the workplace, as women!) And may we always remember that our worth is intrinsic and whole, always, without need to be proven or earned.

(But, also, like, an aside: We live and work in capitalism and I always tell people, especially women and people of the non-dominant corporate profile, ie: not a cisgender, hetero-presenting white male, to negotiate the first offer because when I managed a large team it was always the men, especially and predominantly of the dominant class, who always asked for more.)

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For Kaitlin—keep shining, Leo star!

Five Breaths (And no more rush)

I decided a little while ago that I am done rushing. It feels terrible, it sets my body into an alarmed state, and it doesn’t actually help me get anywhere any more quickly. (As one of my meditation teachers at The Spring Meditation says, there is a difference between moving quickly and “rushing.”)

That decision has also made me realize how much unnecessary hurry I add into my days. Eating quickly, jumping from one thing to the next, etc. Rushing less, and also hurrying less, means giving myself more time. Time to get ready, time in transition. Habits can be hard to break (of courseee), so I’ve found something to give myself for those moments: Five breaths.

Five breaths, for me, for the moment, right here, right there.

Boundaries are a concentration of power

I say this to myself when setting a boundary, which usually involves saying no, feels difficult, maybe even a little scary. That saying no to one thing automatically means saying yes, and giving, to something else, even if that’s as simple (and also profound, I’ve found) as giving time back to oneself.

Boundaries are a concentration of power.

Tomato your time

“Tómate tu tiempo,” translated from Spanish to English, means “take your time.” “Tomate” (no accent) is Spanish for “tomato.”

Sometimes, like today on this Sunday, I say “tomato your time” to myself as a reminder of, like, time is always mine, that it’s not that serious, that it’s all fun. That time is mine to do what I want with, to make of what I wish. Time is always ours, and it is here in abundance.

Take your time. Tomato your time. :)

Flexibility is strength

I love stretching. Love, love stretching. When I do it, I can feel myself getting taller, stronger, longer; the yin of recovery to the yang of lifting, or running hard. I feel everything connecting, the loop closing, and my body and self becoming more open.

I remember learning something in gym class at some point when I was younger about the different types of physical fitness, about the picture of composite strength, and learning that conditioning aspects like balance and flexibility are, also, strength. Not just displays of brute force. Huh, I thought. I liked that. I thought about it, and I internalized it in a great way. In stretching, I feel myself getting stronger.

I remember being younger and seeing a bridge sway, or some tall pole, maybe both, whatever it was, and my engineer father explaining that this had to happen, from a physics standpoint, for the structure to remain—not just strong, but remain there at all. How unexpected. It was the opposite of what I felt like should be happening, and it was what needed to be happening.

Flexibility in flow, flexibility in surrender, flexibility in bending to see a new perspective, in stretching out of a comfort zone, in reaching for change.

Flexibility is strength. I’m more flexible than I’ve ever been, in a lot of ways, and I’m proud of that. Because I stretch every day, in some way, and I’ve felt the change. I feel stronger than I’ve ever been.

How can I sink, even more, into the moment?

This last trip (Barcelona, Ibiza, Malta, Munich for Oktoberfest, a dream!) reminded me of how putting ourselves into new contexts, places and spaces is really sooo beneficial to developing ourselves more, and solidifying one’s sense of self—especially when it’s some new aspect of ourselves and identity. We get to put more into practice and play, whether by invitation, like when introducing ourselves to strangers (who do we want to be? How do we want to be?), or, perhaps, by a little bit of force, like when sprinting through an airport to make a connection. (Just because I’m moving quickly doesn’t mean I have to become stressed about it, and that realization was new and nice! Also, we made it.)

One thing that I was interested to be with on this trip was my personal shift to no longer drinking alcohol, really; like more than a drink here or there. I was going to a bachelorette party in Ibiza and Munich for Oktoberfest, after all, and I was curious to see how I would feel. It’s a change I felt called to make a little over a year ago when I moved from NYC to LA, and realized that I just didn’t really like how I felt physically or mentally because of it. I wanted to feel good, and I wanted to be as present as possible to my life.

Over the past year I’ve gotten more comfortable not drinking in certain contexts, and I’ve realized no one really cares. (Or even knows, especially when you’re holding a sparkling water with lime.) Rather, people are often very supportive and even curious. My close friends in LA don’t drink much, and even on the bachelorette trip, 1/4 of the people there weren’t drinking and it was totally cool, fun and easy.

Throughout the trip there were a few moments where I felt a little odd about it, though I know full well those were my own slight feelings of judgment and questioning, and no one else’s. Like when everyone was toasting and I’m just, like, smiling, and wondering. should be toasting? Would that be more participatory? (We’re over “should’s,” or more over them than ever before, but sometimes they happen!) At this point, though I know well enough that those little feelings are fleeting, not worth paying much attention to, and that almost certainly no one else is even having that thought.

What was fun, though, is that I found I developed a little trick, or tool, for those moments of slight discomfort. I found myself taking a moment to look around, breathe deep and ask myself, “How can I sink even more into this moment?" As a result of thinking that simple question, I shifted more into presence, and into the present. I dropped more into my body and that place and time, exactly as they were, and could be with it all with a newfound appreciation. I saw my friends singing, laughing, sitting together in this place and in celebration, at everyone gathered there altogether, sharing this one moment, and my heart would become so full. I was so happy. And, I was out of my head.

I’ve tried it out in different contexts, too, and it always feels good, always makes things better. Like, when trying to fall asleep on the plane, when navigating a crowd in the rain, when feeling into a connection to someone new. As Caroline Myss writes about, “this day will never come again.” We’ll never be in this moment, in this way, again, so how can we be here, even more?

How can I sink even more into this moment? How can I be in this moment, even more? (Also, Oktoberfest is still super fun, still super joyous, still the best time, even without the beer. Ibiza, of course, too.)

Leave room

I drafted this post in my head, and a little bit on here, before leaving for a ~2.5-week trip that I returned from on Sunday night. (But, instead, I left myself some room, and more time for sleep, that last night.)

I prefer to carry on when I travel and usually end up packing my bag to the max. It makes repacking during the trip a challenge, because I’m never repacking with as much time or care as that first time—I’d rather be spending my vacation time doing anything else, everything else. It also means I have no space, really, to pick up anything along the way. This time, as I was finishing packing, I made a conscious choice to leave some room.

It’s in keeping with a larger theme of wanting to of create and leave more room in my life these days. Like, leaving room in my days—giving myself more time, rushing less, and, ideally, not at all—and recently going through my whole apartment to consolidate and organize my belongings. (Outer organization equaled inner, mental organization, and was nice to return to@)

Someone I know used to say, “leave room for surprise,” often, and I like that. Leave room, and space, for the unexpected, because we never know what it’ll be. This time, this trip, it was a bunch of cute, functional and sentimental bachelorette gifts, like a monogrammed bucket hat, and some bigger things, like the dirndl I bought in Munich for Oktoberfest and thought would be a whatever purchase before finding a trendy one (it’s a thing) that was a point of pride, because it ended up eliciting compliments from Germans. I did have to sit on my suitcase to close it that last day, what with all those layers of Bavarian ruffle, but I did have the room!