Tag: decisions

Living in the Abstract

carissaricci

Think I’m in the right place. Realize it doesn’t fit anymore. Deconstruct. Take stock of what’s left. Process the feels. Redefine myself and my life. Repeat.

Every time I run through the cycle, I always feel resistance at the beginning. There’s a step between “think I’m in the right place” and “realize it doesn’t fit anymore” that I call: “try to pretend that I’m in the right place even though I know I’m not so I don’t have to face what comes with having to make yet another transition.” I can remember sitting on the threshold of some big decisions, asking if there was an easier way. If I could shortcut it. Work around it. Pretend that I could unsee what had been made so undeniably clear to me. But I also knew that I could no longer continue to betray myself.

Those realizations were the toughest I had ever faced because it meant that I had to consider things I didn’t feel ready to acknowledge. I was afraid that if I started to dismantle what I thought my life would be, that I’d never be able to put it back together again. That I didn’t know how to let go of the version of myself that I had created to survive and the picture I had held in my head of what my life would look like. She was all I had ever known, and my current life was the culmination of years of sacrifices and hard work.

While I’ve experienced big shifts in all areas of my life, some of the more recent shifts have been in my career—over the course of which, I bounced back and forth between the academic and the corporate worlds. But the moment I felt like I had finally “made it” was when I got the call from Nike. All those years of struggle and grind and burning the candle at both ends had landed me in a spot that I couldn’t quite believe. During my first few weeks, I was convinced that I would spend the remainder of my working days there. Why would I ever give that up? I was all in.

I didn’t know how to let go of the version of myself that I had created to survive and the picture I had held in my head of what my life would look like.

Fast forward nine years (quite a few of those last ones battling between what I knew in my heart and trying to hang on to the dream of retiring from Nike someday)…I had allowed myself to become completely burned out and it was all I could do to keep going. Even after setting some boundaries to get my life into better balance, I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up. And I also knew deep, deep down that I couldn’t stay while also living the life I knew was right for me—I couldn’t find alignment with myself there.

Was I really going to close the door on it? And face a blank canvas?

When I was in one of my painting classes in college, I can clearly remember the first time we were given an assignment to paint something abstract. I panicked. Well, maybe panic is a bit strong, but I wasn’t exactly excited about it. I liked order. And planning. And things to be in neat boxes. A still-life? On it. A landscape? You bet. Abstract painting? I felt completely out of my depth.

In that class, the professor made us build our own wooden stretcher frames and stretch our own canvases, and I’m not lying when I say I may have procrastinated that process a little. Okay, I procrastinated a lot. The miter cuts weren’t quite lining up right (translation…they would have worked fine, but weren’t perfect, so I started over). I re-stretched the canvas when I saw a little pucker in one corner (translation…it was on the backside of the frame where no one would have seen it anyway, but it needed to be fixed). You get the idea. I was doing anything and everything to avoid actually starting the painting.

To paint without anything to reference? To paint from the heart? To trust that something that looked like nothing concrete might still be beautiful? That process stretched me as much as I was stretching that canvas over the frame.

I spent DAYS painting, re-priming the canvas with gesso, and repainting. When I shared my struggles with my professor, she smiled and said, “Carissa. Let go of what you think it should be. Stop making rules for yourself where there don’t need to be. Relax and let go.”

I applied some gesso to get the canvas back to neutral, left the studio, and came back a couple of days later with her mantra ringing in my ears. I reluctantly pulled on my painting clothes, gathered all my supplies, prepared my palette, sat in front of the easel, popped my ear buds in to listen to some of my favorite tunes, took a deep breath, and let myself stare at the blank canvas for what felt like an hour (translation…probably more like 10 minutes). I looked down at all the blobs of paint I had put out on my palette, grabbed a brush, and felt that familiar sinking feeling of “Where do I start?” Out of nowhere, I heard an inner voice say “Just START.”

So, I did. I let go, and I just started slapping paint on the canvas. Colors I loved and shapes that felt fun. I stopped trying to make it look like anything. I stopped trying to make something someone else might find pleasing to look at, and instead, created something I found beautiful—regardless of what anyone else might think. It was one of the most freeing moments…giving myself permission to create something for the sheer joy of it. Not knowing what it was going to look like. Not having an end goal. Letting each stroke unfold as it was happening and being fully present in the process.

Those feelings I felt then are incredibly similar to what I’ve felt in some of the bigger life choices I’ve made in recent years. I have swiped coats of gesso on parts (or sometimes all) of previous versions of myself and visions for my life, stared at the pieces of blank canvas, let myself have a moment of panic, cranked the tunes to process the feels and fuel inspiration, and then started slapping the paint on…my heart leading the way.

Let go of what you think it should be.
Stop making rules for yourself where there don’t need to be.

If you feel overwhelmed by that prospect, you’re not alone, and it can be helpful to remember that even though we’re staring at a blank canvas, it doesn’t mean we’re starting from a blank canvas. We may not be able to see the layers underneath, but they’re there. Influencing our future direction. Reminding us of lessons learned. Encouraging us on. We have experiences and wisdom that have been gathered over the years that will absolutely help propel us forward and provide inspiration. While it can feel daunting to stare at a blank slate, we can dig deep into who we are and what we know to help us create the next version of how we bring ourselves to the world and what our lives will become.

When I faced the decision to either stay at Nike or jump ship for something new, I landed at SVB1, and right before I pulled the trigger I remember thinking, “Am I actually going to do this?” My heart said, “You bet you are.” So I did. And then at the end of this last year, I made the BIG decision. The decision to go out and do my own thing. Did it feel empowering? Absolutely. Do I still struggle with doubts? For sure. The road feels uncertain at times, and I wonder if the world wants what I have to offer—if I can make a living doing what lights me up. But it was time. I had to put a coat of primer on and dig into the beginnings of yet another abstract creation.2

If you’re also working through a phase of your life where you’re making the decision to stop painting landscapes and try an abstract, I’ll give you the exact same advice my college professor did: “Let go of what you think it should be.”

What is your heart saying?

And as you work through the growing pains that inevitably come with embracing a new way of living, I’ll leave you with these wise words from Zanna Keithley:

You are going to have beautiful days and devastating days and light days and heavy days, and there will be chapters when the heavy and devastating feel like they’re all you’ve ever known. And you’re going to break down and break open and feel like the pain has buried itself in your lungs and in your cells and in your soul until you don’t know you from it or it from you, like it’s melded into your bones and intertwined with the intangible part of you that nobody else can see. And you will run and run and want to keep running until your shadows can no longer chase you and you can no longer breathe and this pain doesn’t feel so unbearable. And you will keep sitting with the pain and sitting with the pain and sitting with the pain, and some days it’ll feel a little lighter, and other days, it’ll feel like the entire ocean is crushing your chest and everything is heavy and is this the way it’ll always be? But in time, slowly, the weight will lift and the wounds will start to heal and that first unencumbered breath will be the best thing you’ve ever known. And you’ll begin to let go of this burden you’ve been carrying and remember what it’s like to be you again, and you’ll uncover that inner spark within you that’s been there all along. And you’ll turn your pain into your purpose and use it to try and help other people feel a little lighter and a little less alone and a little more seen. And the pages will keep turning and a new chapter will begin, and this time, you’re going to walk forward a little less afraid. And you’re going to live every inch of this beautiful and messy and wondrous human experience.

Because this—this is what you’re here for.

1 Some of you may have heard of it. It was a bank that imploded in spectacular fashion in under 48 hours. My former colleagues and I are eagerly awaiting the Netflix special that will undoubtedly be made depicting its epic demise.

2 Stay tuned…more to come soon on my newest creation.

Where’s the Fire?

carissaricci

When was the last time you asked yourself what sets your heart on fire and genuinely listened for the answer?

Over the course of my life, I have (over)thought my way in and out of too many things to count. This next season is requiring me to get out of my head and drop into my heart—which for an over-thinker like myself, can be a terrifying proposition. Holding onto the cerebral approach feels safer. Familiar. I can make the lists and rate the things. There are tangible ideas to grasp. Something to hang my hat on. 

Dipping into intuition and heart knowledge feels squishier. Less certain. There’s a part of me that wonders how I would justify decisions made from that place. And there’s another part (whose voice is becoming stronger) who wants to know why I care about defending my choices. To whom am I making the case? At the end of the day, the woman staring back at me in the mirror is the one who will ultimately hold me to account. And she’s learning to be more compassionate with herself these days.

So, what does it feel like to live from the heart? For me, it means clearing out the noise and paying attention to what makes me feel most alive. Noticing when it happens and making a “note to self”: Do this more.

When I was in college, I decided that I wanted to teach, write, make as big of an impact as I could on the humans I connected with, and see the world. That was the goal. As with many of us, my life took a major detour shortly after, and I allowed what I thought I “should” do to become the loudest voice in the room. The dream was shelved. I moved on and made peace with what my life had become (or so I thought). Now, many, many, years later, I’m finding my way back to what I’m realizing I always knew would light me up. It will look a little different than how I originally imagined it, but the heart and soul of it remain strong and true.

Go inside and listen to your body, because your body will never lie to you. Your mind will play tricks, but the way you feel in your heart, in your guts, is the truth.

Don Miguel Ruiz

On my spring travels abroad, I recognized the fire immediately. When I first landed in Portugal, I dropped my luggage at the place I was staying in Lisbon and headed out to find lunch while I was waiting for the check-in time to roll around. Stunningly intense jet lag aside, I felt the familiar pull and the quiet but strong whisper…“there it is”. That feeling persisted for the remaining 34 days I traveled and didn’t let up until my feet hit the inside of the plane that would take me back home.

Since then, I’ve felt it pop up at various times—I feel it in my body more than anywhere else and I know, without question, that I’m where I need to be when it does. If you’re facing some big questions, “Go inside and listen to your body, because your body will never lie to you. Your mind will play tricks, but the way you feel in your heart, in your guts, is the truth.” (Don Miguel Ruiz) When I look back at my life, I knew long before I made any decisions, what the right one was. I was just incredibly adept at talking myself out of it for the sake of what I thought I had to do.

Feeling the fire at the Plaza de España in Seville

In many of the personality tests I’ve taken over the years, responsibility (or some form of it) is always high up on the list—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—until I realized that I wasn’t being as responsible to myself as I was to everything and everyone else. 

Your longing. Your heart. Your calling. All of those are just as important to maintain loyalty to as the other things that garner your energy.

I now take notice when these things happen:

  • I’m in what some people call “flow”. I lose track of time. Unintentionally skip meals. And am so focused on what I’m doing that it’s almost like I enter another dimension where everything else is muted.1
  • I feel giddy. A genuine happiness or excitement that emanates from the deepest part of my center. This can show up as a smile that suddenly stretches ear to ear…or sometimes, something different happens. When I stepped foot into La Sagrada Familia and first looked up, I was immediately moved to tears. Inspired, present, and in total awe of what I was experiencing. 
  • I get the “good chills” (Part 1). This usually happens in conversation with someone—when we have a moment of genuine connection about something we’re talking about. But talking isn’t always a requirement. Sometimes, just holding space for one another and silently acknowledging someone else’s experience can be just as powerful. In those moments, we both truly see into the soul of the other. When I think back to the most meaningful moments in my life, being a part of that reciprocity and vulnerability is one of the most beautiful things about being human. 
  • I get the “good chills” (Part 2). Music can reach me like little else can and always has something to teach me. I can’t get enough…never could and probably never will. When I was really young, I learned to play the piano and it changed the way I experienced music and my relationship to it. Even though I loved playing, I was never hankering to perform for crowded rooms. I was happiest when I was at the keys in an empty house. Just me and the music…dancing the dance. In one of my previous posts, I mentioned that I typically always have music going, and it’s true. It helps me feel connected to something bigger while also feeling deeply connected to myself. Whether I’m playing music or listening to it, the “good chills” can strike at any time—both grounding me and taking me to other places simultaneously.

There’s an unbelievable amount that we don’t know and so many things that still remain unexplained, but I believe we can tap into that feeling of interrelatedness…if we’re paying attention.

I’ve often wondered how the things we can’t see—the intangibles—can impact us so deeply. Recently, “scientists have detected a ‘cosmic background’ of ripples in the structure of space and time” and that “every star, every planet, every continent, every building, every person is vibrating along to the slow cosmic beat.” (Frank, 2023)2 We’re all so much more connected than we think. There’s an unbelievable amount that we don’t know and so many things that still remain unexplained, but I believe we can tap into that feeling of interrelatedness…if we’re paying attention.

In those moments when you’ve been places for the first time, but feel a familiarity—almost a knowing—that you’ve somehow been there before. The people you meet who you have an instant connection with—like your soul has known theirs for much longer than you’ve known them. Reading stories that resonate so deeply, you feel like they were written just for you. Listening to music that moves you in the very deepest part of yourself.

As we take steps toward rediscovering and following those dreams that are unique to each of us, those pesky fears may come up. Hesitations. Doubts. But we also each have a fierceness that lives within us. When the world tells us we can’t, let’s allow the hesitations, doubts, and fears to be there—but also let that fierceness push us forward anyway—even if old stories are relentlessly trying to keep us in suspension. 

Choosing to live from the heart is a courageous act. One that requires us to honor our innermost knowing, despite what our minds might be telling us. If you’re wondering whether you have that type of courage, this is your reminder that you do. You are stronger than you think. Braver than you would guess. And worthy of a life well-lived…with your heart on fire.

1 I stayed up 2 hours later than I normally do working on the first draft of this post. I’m finding it amusing that I was in the “flow” while writing about the “flow”. How meta of me.

2 If you want to read the full article, head over to The Atlantic.

Finding True North

carissaricci

Creative or logical? Heart or intellect? 

For much of my life, I felt like those (seemingly) opposite approaches were always locked in an intense game of tug-of-war any time I needed to make a big decision—and most of the time, the logical and intellectual parts would end up getting most of the airtime. For those who don’t know, color-coded Post-it pro/con lists with weighted categories are one of my specialities. If you can relate, you’re in good company. Over thinkers of the world, unite!1

As I head into this next season of my life, there are a couple of big decisions I need to make over the next few months and I’m finding myself in familiar territory. Asking myself questions like, “Is this my fear talking or my intuition?” “How will this affect the people in my life?” “What if I make the wrong call?” 

And then I remind myself of what I’ve learned along the way. (Spoiler alert—that doesn’t make it any less scary or take the over thinking away completely…but it helps.)

Something might “feel” impossible.
Until you do it.

Here are some of the lessons I’m taking forward:

1. A list will only get you so far.

      When I look back at some of the situations I kept myself in, I can rattle off all the reasons why. I had stacked up an impressive list about why choosing something else was “impossible”. It wasn’t until I changed the word “was” to “feels” that I started to consider a different perspective. Something might “feel” impossible. Until you do it.

      2. Focus on the big questions.

      In both of the biggest life decisions I’ve made so far—the ones that truly turned my world upside down—I trotted out the aforementioned list in Lesson #1 to a friend. Her response? “That’s a great list, Carissa, but have you asked yourself the real questions yet? If you stay in the current situation, do you see a future where you can be unabashedly and completely yourself and be celebrated…not just tolerated? Where you can thrive instead of just exist?”

      Pardon my French here, but the word “shit” was the first thing that popped into my head. In the split second after she asked those questions, I knew the answer. And I also knew it meant I would have to navigate the uber-harrowing list of things (that felt impossible) to make it happen. 

      If I’m being honest with myself—and this is a hard one to admit—I also realized I had known the answer to both decisions for years. I had let the lists stop me. Silence me. And keep me locked in places that didn’t allow me to be fully me. I had become so used to contorting myself into all sorts of shapes to satisfy expectations, honor others’ desires, and not “rock the boat”…that I had lost huge pieces of myself in the process.

      3. Let the fear exist, but don’t let it stop you.

      I had gotten so comfortable with the “devil I knew” that it had lulled me into apathy. I was the queen of “Well…let me give it another 6 months and see how things are then.” The 6 months would come and go. Nothing significant would have changed. And yet…I stayed. Why? Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that I wouldn’t survive the ridiculously long list I’d have to navigate to make a different choice. Fear about how it would affect the people in my life. Fear that it meant I had failed.

      But here’s the truth. If I compromise the core of who I am to stay in any situation—professional or personal—I’m only living halfway (if that). I wouldn’t be giving the best version of myself to the people in my circle. And at the end of the day, that doesn’t serve anyone well. 

      I firmly believe that we are here to be unapologetically ourselves. To honor our spark. Our uniqueness. Our dreams. Our passions. FULLY. And in order to do that, we have to be intentional about our careers, who we surround ourselves with, and where we put our time and energy.

      Snowshoeing at Mt. Hood…sometimes the best view is off the main path.

      When I was in the depths of one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, a dear friend shared this with me:

      “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I promise you—it will get better. And then you’re not going to believe how much different you’re going to feel. It’s like walking around with an abscessed tooth for years. You get used to the intense pain over time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay. The pulling of the tooth is incredibly painful. And the healing process can be, too. But after it’s over, and the wound isn’t as raw, you are going to wonder how you walked around with it in your mouth for that long.” 2

      At the time, I was in so much emotional pain, I couldn’t grasp what it would feel like to be on the other side—but I clung to her promise like a lifeline. And she was right. 100%. That is exactly what it felt like.

      Truth be told, I already know the answers just like I did then.

      As I’m facing down these next decisions, I’m once again battling between heart and mind. I’m resisting the urge to immediately run for the Post-its. I’m going back to the lessons I’ve learned, and I’m asking myself the hard questions. Truth be told, I already know the answers just like I did then. Now, it’s about summoning the courage to take the leap and knowing when to jump.

      I’m still scared…questioning myself…wanting to fall back into the comfortable. 

      But I know too much now. I can hear my future self on the “other side” beckoning me—reminding me of what things look like from her perspective.

      The bottom line? Deciding to jump is always the hardest part. If you’re facing a scary leap on the way to your true north, take heart…the best is yet to come.

      1 Side effects of overthinking include, but may not be limited to: sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, vicious cycles, fatigue, headaches, stomach aches, and long calls with friends who tell you to stop making lists and focus on the big questions (especially the ones that you don’t want to answer).

      2 I’m paraphrasing from memory on this one, but the metaphor was so spot on that it has stuck with me over the years.