Tag: joy

Look Up

carissaricci

Instead of letting the difficult parts of life harden us, what if we let them soften us even further? To love more deeply. Live with more vitality. And embrace the fullness of the human experience—from the heartbreaking to the divinely joyous.

So much of my life, I’ve felt like I’ve been huddled in a ball, white knuckling it through life. Staying “heads down” and focused on the goals I’ve set for myself. Trying to protect myself. Surviving.

In more recent years, I’ve experimented with a different approach. Instead of trying to avoid the things that hurt, I allowed them to be.1 What if we did that more often? Sit with the joy and the pain. Make friends with all the pieces and parts. Instead of a “heads down” approach to life, what if we had a “look up” approach? Look up to connect with others. To engage with what makes life meaningful—the easy, the difficult, and everything in between. To look up in appreciation at the night sky for the beauty and perspective it offers.

The inspiration for this experimentation was Andrea Gibson—one of my favorite humans and an incredible poet who recently passed. The way they saw the world has been life changing for me and for so many. Their ideas about our relationship with ALL the things this human experience offers—not just the pleasant ones—shifted my view on what it means to be fully alive.

Some of my favorite quotes of theirs are:

“When nothing softens the grief, may grief soften me.”

“Just to be clear, I don’t want to get out without a broken heart. I intend to leave this life so shattered there better be a thousand separate heavens for all my flying parts.”

“In the end, I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.”

All that to say…if you haven’t ever read their work, now is the time.2

Watching how they lived their life, I’m reminded that I can control nothing that happens outside of myself. But internally? I can make choices about how I react, respond, and how I show up in the world. How I treat myself. How I talk to myself. How I engage with others. How much I choose to open my heart. What I let in. What I shut out. How I view joy. How I view pain. How I heal.

Elizabeth Gilbert once talked about how “the most peaceful and wise people are the ones who have created enough internal space to be able to allow all the parts of themselves to coexist despite the contradictions. They have room for their creativity…they also have room for their fear. They have room for their dignity…they also have room for their shame. They have room for the parts of themselves that are glorious and divine and wonderful…and they have room for the parts of themselves that are petty and jealous and ridiculous. They create this huge auditorium of a landscape inside themselves. They don’t kick any parts out. Because guess what? You can’t.”

Contradictions can coexist.

Let’s be real. This world we’re living in right now? It’s completely bananas. As we navigate this rollercoaster of life with all its unknowns and so many things out of our control, these two humans have taught me so much. That contradictions can coexist and that there’s a form of peace that comes when we allow the complexities and layers to all be true at the same time. That doesn’t mean we don’t learn, grow, and continue to make adjustments in how we show up and approach life, but it can help us stay grounded in the turbulence.

The goal? To get to a place where we realize that to shut ourselves down and check out is the ultimate tragedy. To have a heart lined with stretch marks indicates a life truly lived where we get to experience the full spectrum of what it means to be human.

Whenever the day comes when I pass on to my next adventure, I want to know that I’m leaving with a heart that was soft and open. That I was willing to bear some scars and not just tolerate them but celebrate them as part of what it means to have been here. I want to know that I loved more deeply than I thought possible and refused to turn my shoulder or close my eyes to all the pain in the world just because it was uncomfortable. I want to have been a safe harbor for others. A friend who would sit with you in the dark as well as share your joy. An adventurer…willing to take risks for the sake of experiencing something real and true.

As we make our way through whatever is next in these coming years, let’s not forget to look up. Connect with each other deeply. Make room for all the parts of ourselves. Talk about the hard stuff. The real stuff. The stuff that doesn’t make sense. The stuff that makes your heart sink. Be there in the dark with others who are trying to make their way through, too.

And as we take care of each other, be sure to take care yourself as well. Look up at the night sky and take some deep breaths to get perspective. Hydrate. Nap. Recharge. Go for a hike. Read a book. Do a few rounds of box breathing. Call your bestie. Whatever lights you up…find those good moments.

And in the wise words of Andrea:

Never forget that it is possible to cry and sing at the top of your lungs at the same time.

As a tribute to this incredible human, let’s stretch our hearts and go cry and sing our way into whatever comes next. I’ll bring the tissues and the tunes for anyone who wants to join me.

1An important side note is to make sure we’re taking care of ourselves when we do this. Compassion fatigue is real and feeling numb is a sign to recharge.

2You can find their website here and their Substack page here.

Fight or Flow

carissaricci

How much energy and how many hours have been spent trying to keep things in my life that I thought were important? Jobs. Situations. People. The list is long, and the answer is…too many to count.

I’m guessing many of you have heard of Mel Robbin’s “Let Them Theory”1 by now, but for those that haven’t, here’s the summary. We often want to control what is around us in an effort to keep things in our lives that we feel are important. But if we release our expectations and just let people do whatever it is they’re going to do, that gives us a clearer picture of the reality of what we’re dealing with and agency to create boundaries and make decisions based on that information. Once someone shows us who they really are and where their priorities lie, we can then make choices that are healthy for us. Just, let them. And then you can make the move that’s right for you.

While it can be hard to let go of (or reorient) our expectations, most of that difficulty lies in letting go of the perception, not necessarily the reality.

I’ve made some starts down this road, but this year is about getting even more clarity for myself about what stays in my life and what I need to let fall away. It’s like a revised version of Marie Kondo-ing my stuff, but with the non-material things in my life. Looking at every situation and connection and deciding where I want to intentionally put my energy and those where I need to reduce or remove my energy. While it can be hard to let go of (or reorient) our expectations, most of that difficulty lies in letting go of the perception, not necessarily the reality. So often, we project our ideas of what that person or situation could be as opposed to looking at who or what they are right now and then having the courage to acknowledge it and make a plan in the best interest of our own health and well-being.

Have you ever left a conversation with a friend and felt completely wiped out? Is it something that happens every time you’re with them (or more often than not)? Is there reciprocation? Overall, do you feel like you get as much as you give?

I had a friend who consistently spent the majority of our time together talking about what was going on in her life and was leaving me with only about 5% of our time to talk about what was going with me (if we even got around to me at all). After talking with her about it, nothing changed, and the relationship continued on the way it always had. The last time we met up, I was fighting off an anxiety attack on the way out. I realized two things. As an empath, I need to continue working on not internalizing the feelings of others to such a large degree. Secondly, it was time to let that relationship organically become a less important one.

Once I stopped regularly reaching out and didn’t hear from her or see her taking initiative to stay in touch, I realized how lopsided the relationship had been and how much energy I had given to it over the years. I was fighting to keep her in my life because I perceived her as a friend who had the potential to meet me halfway. But that just wasn’t true. And she repeatedly proved it to me, so why did I choose to keep giving her energy that could be better spent elsewhere? To be clear, I’m not faulting her. This comes back to the “Let Them Theory”. I needed to “let her”, and then it was my responsibility to get clarity on how much time and energy I was willing to put there.      

On the flip side, I have people in my life that I could talk to for hours and feel energized at the end of the conversation. There are seasons where one of us will lean in a bit more to support the other when there’s big life stuff happening, but overall, there’s reciprocation. Care. Balance. They’re putting in as much effort to connect with me as I am with them. Their actions match their words. They don’t just say I mean a lot to them—they show me that I mean a lot to them.

So often, we fight for others to see our value. We want them to value us enough to put in the effort. Make us a priority. To see us. I heard this analogy about the cost of water and depending on where you go, the price of the bottle changes. If you’re at a supermarket. A gas station. A theme park. A concert. The water doesn’t change…its inherent value is static, but the price fluctuates drastically depending on the location. It’s the same with our value. So, if we’re not being perceived as valuable, it’s up to us to realize that it’s about where we are or who we’re surrounding ourselves with that needs to change instead of us trying to shape-shift into something that we feel will be valued in that environment or with that person to make it “fit”.2

Be authentically YOU. You will lose some people. Situations will change. You might even realize you need a different job or career. But then watch what happens…

I had a mentor give me a great piece of advice once. Be authentically YOU. You will lose some people. Situations will change. You might even realize you need a different job or career. But then watch what happens…the right people will stick around, you’ll find a job that lights you up more than it drags you down, and you’ll be surrounded by people who are in a place where they can show up in true connection with you in the ways you need most.

Instead of forcing or fighting those “square peg, round hole” situations in my life, I’m working on noticing when I find myself in that space, letting them be exactly what or who they are, and then making (sometimes difficult) decisions about what the best way forward is based on that reality—trusting that those people and situations that see my value will stick around and those that don’t will fall back (or in some cases, completely away). And that’s okay.

If you’re trying to determine where to put your energy, a question I’ve found helpful to ask myself is: “Fight or flow?” Am I consistently in a fight with myself to stay in this job, situation, or connection…or does it flow? It doesn’t have to be in flow 100% of the time, but if I’m in fight more often than flow, that’s a good indication that it’s time for me to take a look at it.                

You might find that once you start to dig in and figure some of this out, some not-so-great feels might come up. I had to work through a lot of guilt, anger, and frustration with myself. Once I started pulling the curtain back on how much of my energy and time I’ve put into situations that weren’t right for me, it was difficult to come to terms with it. But now that I’ve acknowledged that loss, it has taught me an important lesson. I can now make sure that however many years of life I have left are spent in more intentionality and flow.

We have such a limited time in this human experience. You deserve to have a circle of people around you who match your weird with their weird. Who see you, love you, respect you, and value you—exactly as you are. Not if you would only “do this” or “be that”.3 That is the baseline of what you deserve, and this is your permission slip to not ever settle for less. I hope you use it.

1This is the Mel Robbins podcast that outlines more details about what it means to “let them”.

2This doesn’t mean that you don’t give people a chance to show you a different side of themselves…but be clear and intentional about what that looks like and where your boundaries are.

3The intention isn’t that you don’t grow and develop, but just because you’re a human that’s “in progress” shouldn’t preclude you from being loved and accepted as you are right now (both by yourself and others).

Beginning Again

carissaricci

When I was a kid, I used to think that life was a long line of events, one leading to another. A neat and tidy row of experiences that would build on each other until I was a wise adult, and that as I got older, I would “figure it out”. I had no idea how involved the “figuring it out” phase would be or that it’s really just an illusion and absolutely no one has everything nailed. The “figuring it out” phase should really just be called life and that “phase” lasts the entirety of it.

And beginning again? It’s not just something that happens once.

Some of the hardest and most rewarding lessons have come when I admit that I don’t know what I’m doing. When there don’t seem to be any clear answers. When I feel lost. It’s in the grappling with all the everythings in those moments when my life has pivoted the most toward something that feels more aligned.

I’m at the start of an entirely new way of living. My house sold in September, and my dog and I are officially nomads. I left my full-time job and have launched into a mix of consulting, coaching, and retreat guiding which has been one of the best decisions I could have made. And yet…it still comes with all the symptoms of being in transition. I can think back to so many moments when I hesitated to take the leap or make a change for so many reasons—one of them being me trying to avoid those exact discomforts. As I’m writing this, it’s reminding me of those prescription ads with the long list of side effects: “Side effects of ‘taking the leap’ may include: fear of failure, night sweats, doubting yourself, fear of the unknown, ‘what-if’ syndrome, procrastination, nightmares,” and the list goes on…

When you find yourself “What-if’ing” yourself to death, change the “What if?” to “Even if.”

I’ve realized there’s no easy way to get myself out of a rut. The best way I’ve found is to just jump in and do it. Not when all my ducks are in a row. Not when I feel ready. Not when I feel comfortable. Not when success is assured. When I feel the pull and my intuition pointing me in the right direction, I know it’s time to take the leap and trust. One step at a time…even if it’s a winding road.

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever gotten was this. When you find yourself “What-if’ing” yourself to death, change the “What if?” to “Even if.”

Instead of “What if I get lost on my way from the train station to the hotel?” it becomes “Even if I get lost on my way from the train station to the hotel…”

It has helped retrain me and reinforce that I’m a capable human, and if I find myself in an unexpected or stressful situation, I will find my way through. I will figure it out. I will ask for help when I need it. But I won’t let the What If’s keep me from taking chances.

If you’re also in the middle of a major transition, this quote might be helpful to remember:

Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it is the middle that counts the most. You need to remember that when you find yourself at the beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up.*

The beginning of this last start for me was scary for sure (and saying goodbye to the things I needed to let go of was difficult at times), but I’m so glad I took the chance—it has absolutely changed my life by leaps and bounds for the better. I’ve found a really good rhythm in this new way of living, have an incredible community of humans in my circle who I’m incredibly grateful for every day, and the “Sunday scaries” are no longer a pervasive part of my life.

If you’re beginning again like I am, take heart. EVEN IF things don’t go exactly the way you planned. EVEN IF some of your fears come true. EVEN IF it seems like you’ve lost your way. You will figure it out. Trust yourself. Lean on your community. Keep taking those steps forward. And leave room for a little hope to float up when you find yourself questioning whether you’re on the right track.

EVEN IF the last step you took didn’t result in what you thought it would, that doesn’t mean it was the wrong one. Keep going. Keep learning from each step you take. Bolster yourself with things that light you up.

And know that I’m right there with you.

*Borrowed from a 90’s rom-com…extra points if you can name the title.

Slowing Down

carissaricci

I used to get so much satisfaction from checking a million things off my to-do list in a day. The longer the list, the better the feeling. That feeling was usually accompanied by a dizzying fatigue, but it was worth it…right?

 It used to be. But not anymore.

Over the last few months, I’ve allowed myself time to slow down and for me to be in my life which is no easy task for someone who used to assign a good portion of her value to what she could produce.

In today’s world, I feel like we’ve lost the ability to be fully present in much of anything anymore. We’re constantly half in and half out of whatever task we’re doing because we’re thinking about what’s next and trying to get there as quickly as possible. Or trying to stay up on the latest of everything. And we’re multitasking…all the time. (Am I the only one who has caught herself scrolling Instagram, while intermittently having a text conversation with a friend, writing a grocery list, and also trying to watch something on Netflix at the same time?)

As I’ve been slowing down, I’ve been feeling more out of place in the world around me. But am also feeling more at peace. I’m not sure what that means about how I’m going to find my way in the world from here on out, but—as with most things these days—I’m just taking it one step at a time.

Beauty is so quietly woven throughout ordinary days that we barely notice it.

Morgan Harper Nichols

As I’ve been adjusting to a slower pace of life, it reminds me of the photography classes I took in college (which was a very different experience to what that looks like today). My time in those classes was spent learning old-school-style black and white 35mm film photography1—a method that forces you to slow down, pay attention, and be present.

The process started with finding something I wanted to capture, framing the shot, and then setting the aperture and shutter speed to get the desired effect…and there was no telling whether it was a success until I saw the result in the darkroom. No adjusting in the moment. No taking 10 slightly different shots and easily tossing out the ones that “didn’t work”. I would make educated guesses, take the shots, and hope for the best.

The uncertainty didn’t end there. Once I finished shooting a roll of film, I had to develop it (which was an anxiety-producing process in itself). I had to get the film out of the camera and threaded around a metal spool, all in complete darkness. All by touch. And if it wasn’t threaded properly and any part of the film strip was touching another portion, those pictures were ruined before they ever had the chance to hit photo paper.

The professor made us practice with old negatives first. I wound and unwound countless rolls until I felt fairly confident I could do it with the one I took. I can vividly remember sitting in that tiny little closet the first time, thinking about how much effort I spent shooting that roll of film. I had all my supplies laid out in front of me and knew that once I turned the light off and opened the back of my camera to get the film out, I couldn’t turn the light back on until it was successfully wound around the spool and safely in the light-safe container that would protect it.

Once I flipped the switch, every second felt like an eternity. After I wound the roll the first time, I wasn’t completely sure I had done it right, so I unwound it all gently and started over. Still not 100% sure I did it right, I decided that it was as good as I was going to get for my first one and popped the spool in the container, tightening the lid before switching the light on.

I ran through the process of adding the right chemicals at the right temperature…agitating the container…rinsing…adding different chemicals…agitating…rinsing. Then, the big reveal. Removing the negatives from the container and unwinding them from the spool, hoping against hope that I wound things properly. I did (thankfully), and they were now ready for drying.

I came back a couple of days later to take my negatives into the darkroom and try my hand at developing prints. When I first walked in, I thought “How do people spend so much time in here?” But within minutes, I was completely hooked. If you know me, you know that I took music everywhere with me, and the darkroom was no exception.2 I’d pop my earbuds in and get lost in the music and the creative process…watching as the pictures I shot finally took shape on photo paper. Developing them, deciding what needed to be tweaked, and repeating the process until I was satisfied with each print.

Enjoying the beauty of Sedona
(Side note: I didn’t hit the darkroom for this one…)

When I think about the difference between that process and how we take pictures today, I know some people might say “Why would we ever go back?” But there was something in it that I don’t get from taking pictures anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I still love photography. Always have and always will—in all its forms. It’s my favorite of all the art classes I took. But the “darkroom way” will always hold a special place in my heart. The tactile experience of handling all the pieces and seeing it come together with a little bit of luck and a little bit of magic—it was almost meditative. Some people say you can taste love in the food that they cook. I like to think the same thing about the pictures I take, and when I ran through that process, it provided so many opportunities for me to add a bit of myself along the way.

When I travel, I find myself gravitating back toward my love of photography. Not just for the sake of taking pictures, but to try and fully capture a moment. The spirit of it. The essence. The light. What I was feeling. For me, that’s the real beauty of art—to look at something and experience how it makes me feel. To be transported to another time and place. Even if just for a few seconds. And even better if you can make someone else feel something, too.

Those seemingly small and fleeting moments can be some of the most impactful we’ll ever experience.

“Slow down and listen to the way your heart beats; a subtle act of resilience right here in the wild of things.”

Morgan Harper Nichols

Lists will always be there. But there are so many other things in this world that won’t. Let’s keep those to dos in their place and not forget to embrace what’s happening in our lives now. I don’t want to look back and wish I had been paying closer attention to the things that really mattered. The beauty in the world that would otherwise pass me by, unnoticed.

Let’s encourage ourselves and each other to be fully in the moment. In our conversations. On our travels. In our experiences. Eating our meals. On our walks.

Instead of grabbing our phones and snapping a million pics to post on the ‘gram, let’s opt for the darkroom way of living—approaching each moment with our undivided attention, adding a little love along the way, appreciating each part of the process, witnessing things unfold, taking the time to breathe in between the steps, and watching as the picture gradually comes into focus on the paper. You might be amazed at what you find once it comes fully into view. The unexpected surprises are sometimes the best gifts you’ve ever been given, so let’s slow down and make space for them. Let’s allow ourselves to feel, to be transported, to be inspired, to be moved.

And to live. Fully present.

1 If you’ve never heard of 35mm film photography, here’s your tutorial.

2 If you need a start to a darkroom playlist of your own, here are some artists to try (in no particular order and inspired by what I used to listen to when I would develop prints): Alicia Keys, Coldplay, P!nk, Lauryn Hill, U2, Fleetwood Mac, Justin Timberlake, Dave Matthews Band, Nickel Creek, Prince, Allman Brothers Band, Foo Fighters, Beck, The Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, No Doubt, Usher, Elton John, Alanis Morissette, Goo Goo Dolls, Gin Blossoms, Hole, Melissa Etheridge, Radiohead.

Bonus points if you can guess when I took these classes based on some of my playlist artists.

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.

Toward

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How many of us have a string of unfulfilled New Year’s resolutions in our pasts? I’m hoping it’s not just me…that would be embarrassing. If you can relate, take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. I rarely persisted the whole year with any resolution I set. I would always draft them with the best of intentions, but they never truly got to the heart of what my soul was longing for. Because they weren’t tied to what mattered most to me, I could never consistently check those boxes.

With the beginning of each new year, I now choose a word of intention instead. Something I can keep coming back to. Something that will ground me when I feel lost or need encouragement. Last year’s word was “trust” and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I leaned into that one hard most of those 365 days. It stretched me and pushed me in ways I wasn’t expecting—and provided me with some of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had.

View from Piestewa Peak Summit

After sitting with my reflection on the 365 days behind me, I turned my attention to the 365 days ahead of me and experimented with some words to see how they fit. I wanted something that indicated movement and action-taking. Forward? No. Onward? Still not quite right…but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I found a quiet space and let myself settle into how I want to feel in 2024. And that’s when the word dropped in. Toward. It implies not just a forward motion, but a forward motion with a specific intention.

So, what am I moving toward?

  • A career that feels more fully me. Where I can do work that is directly tied to where my soul is calling me to be.
  • Connections with people that are genuine—with vulnerability, depth, heart, and light.
  • Moments when I am fully present and that bring me a sense of wonder and joy.
  • Adventures in new places where I can explore to my heart’s content. Meet new people. Try new food. And experience a part of the world I’ve never been before.

It’s all well and good to make statements and express desires, but if there’s no driving force behind it, they often fall into the same wastebasket as crumpled up New Year’s resolutions that were never realized. There needs to be some fuel behind them. They need to be connected to something real inside you, and sometimes, you need your community or other sources of inspiration to keep you going.

Here are some quotes I’ve seen lately that have helped me stay grounded:

The longer you resist the calling of your soul, the harder it is to find your way back. Intuition isn’t instilled in us for nothing. It’s the movement inside us that we must listen to if we want the void to vanish.

Nikki Rowe

I can corroborate this one. For so long, I lived in the ways I thought I “should”. It took me a long time to find my way back and to trust my own intuition again.

Your soul calling will never leave you alone until you honor it and follow it.

Rhys Thomas

For me, this looked like little internal whispers…followed by little nudges…followed by bigger pushes. I’ve been working hard to get better at hearing the whispers and honoring them the first time I hear them. I don’t want to wait until the “push” stage again. I liken that stage to what a baby bird must feel like being thrown out of the nest by their mother…not the best sensation. Just sayin’.

Pay close attention to the reason you get up in the morning. The daydreams you lose yourself in, the books that ignite your imagination, and the songs that make your atoms want to dance. Pay close attention to the people that energize you, the conversations that spark curiosity, and the jokes that make you laugh—these are the clues to your happiness.

Taj Arora

When you get so wrapped up in something that you lose track of time…maybe unintentionally skip a meal. If you hear yourself saying, “I would do this even if I wasn’t paid for it,” that’s a good indication that you’re on the right path.

I’ve also heard the term “energy vampire” recently which made me laugh at first, but then realized how much sense it made. Pay attention to how you feel after spending time with someone. Are you energized or drained? If it’s the latter, that’s a great opportunity to reevaluate how much of your energy you’re willing to put there.

Our happiness is something we cultivate, and we can do it with intentionality—exploring what is true for each of us.

To honor all of this, I must embrace a persistent willingness to say “yes”. To things I think aren’t possible. To things I’m not sure will work out. To things that feel BIG…and maybe a little uncomfortable. If I feel alignment in my soul, then “yes” has to be the answer. Even if I’m not sure how I’m going to get there or what it will look like.

For those of you that are setting your own intentions for the year ahead, know that I’m rooting for each of you and cheering you on. Even when the road ahead seems uncertain. On the days you want to give up. When there seem to be more questions than answers. You’ve got this.

And if you get stuck, remember to let your soul take the lead. It knows the way.

Mid-Life Musings

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I’m at the stage in my life where I’ve been expecting the dreaded “mid-life crisis” to rear its ugly head. For the record, I haven’t yet dyed my hair, purchased an expensive vehicle, or run away to Vermont in search of a Hallmark-movie-worthy lumberjack decked out in some sort of plaid flannel.1 (If I do, you’ll be the first to know.)

I’ve decided to take a different approach to this season of my life. Am I doing things some people might think are out of the ordinary? Absolutely. This is the time for big change. But I’m not doing it to distract myself from the reality of my own mortality or to run from the inevitable. I’m making some bold decisions in service of running toward what feels most right for me—something I’ve neglected to do for a large portion of my life and which I’m no longer willing to do.

I was recently in a conversation with someone and started a sentence with, “I’ve never really been much of a risk taker…” to which she interrupted me with a laugh. And then said, “You’ve taken more risks in the last few years than I’ve taken in my entire life, so I think you need to stop saying that.” It was a stark reminder for me about how we see ourselves and how we often hold on to old ideas about who we are. I’ve never seen myself as a risk taker, and to be honest, I wasn’t in my younger years. This friend has only known me in what I’m calling “Phase 2” of my life and it got me thinking…it might be time for a rewrite of the story I’ve been telling myself about who I am—to adjust the narrative and step into who I am today.

As I’ve been talking to various people in my life, it seems that many of us are in a time of major transition. Exploring difficult questions. Making hard choices. Closing the doors on previous chapters so we can flip the page on new ones. All of those things can feel overwhelming and BIG. My hope for us is that we start thinking about this phase of our lives a bit differently. Rather than diving headfirst into crisis-mode, what if we took this as an opportunity to reevaluate? To take an unapologetically honest look at our lives and identify what still fits and what needs to change.

The truth is, once you have that realization, you can’t unsee it—and it requires you to make the call between staying stationary or making your way down a new path.

Pre-Phase 2, I was keeping myself in situations that were unhealthy and where I couldn’t bring my fullest and truest self. I had tricked myself into thinking I was “stuck”, but the reality was that I was the one keeping myself stuck. Sometimes, I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was in the driver’s seat of my life. That I had choices…even if they felt impossible to consider and insurmountable to make.

Once I acknowledged this, though, it meant that I was responsible for either keeping myself in those situations or choosing another option (which usually felt like the scarier of the roads). But the truth is, once you have that realization, you can’t unsee it—and it requires you to make the call between staying stationary or making your way down a new path.

Staring down the barrel of another cold, dark, and wet winter in the Pacific Northwest, I decided to follow the sun2 and booked an Airbnb somewhere warm for a few months. I hesitated right before I confirmed it—I wasn’t sure how my dog was going to do being away from home for that long. In chatting with a friend and sharing that concern, she said, “What if she thrives being on the road with you and being somewhere warmer?” Once again, I was being challenged to question my default assumptions and confront myself with a familiar inquiry: “Am I looking for reasons to keep myself stuck in what feels comfortable even if it’s not honoring what I feel called to do?”

So, I decided to take the plunge. And guess what? My dog is doing better here. She’s acting like she did when she was two or three years younger—more energy, better sleep, less pain. And I’m feeling similarly.

Feeling the warmth on a sunset walk

Some of the biggest leaps I’ve taken have resulted in some of the best experiences I’ve had, reminding me to keep going—urging me on. To try new things. To persist. To run after what feels right.

To honor these major transitions that many of us are navigating, I’d like to propose a change in terminology for the “mid-life crisis”. I want us to think of it more as a mid-life awakening. A time for us to take stock of all the things that got us here. All the things that make us who we are. What lights us up. What propels us forward. What dreams are still unfulfilled. And then I want us to relentlessly run after all of it—full out. Yes, our time here is limited. But instead of that scaring us into distractions and denial, let’s allow it to strip away the things that have been holding us back so we can step into this next phase as fully alive as we can possibly be.

When I look back on my life, I want to know that I honored that call…even if I had to let fear come along for the ride. If you’re in a similar spot, take some deep breaths. Remember everything you’ve survived to get here and stand firm in the knowledge that we can do scary things.

Let’s embrace the awakening—it’s here to help us find our way to what is most resonant for each of us. I know it might be easier to just dye our hair purple and jet off to a quaint town in search of someone who can teach us how to tap a tree…but will that really satisfy what our soul craves? I want to challenge us to run toward what lights us up instead of away from what feels daunting.

Am I scared? You bet. But I’m going to keep going anyway. If you want to join me, consider this an open invitation. We ride at dawn.

1 I’m not a fan of Hallmark Christmas movies (no judgment if you are), but if you’re in the same boat and are ever in a situation where you are subjected to a Hallmark movie watch party against your will, Google “Hallmark Movie Bingo” and play along to entertain yourself for that hour and a half of your life that you’re never getting back.

2 Give Follow the Sun by Xavier Rudd a listen for some inspiration and good vibes.

Where’s the Fire?

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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.

What Would Your Inner Child Say?

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A dinosaur. A castle. An airplane. A cupcake. 

Lying on my back watching the tree branches sway and the clouds drift by, I let my imagination run wild as I found the shapes in them—just like I used to when I was a kid. Walking the trail by my house, I had seen a bench down by the creek which I often pass without a second thought. But on that day, I wanted to try something different. So I laid on the bench for a few minutes and simply enjoyed the moment…while trying not to fixate on the intrusive thoughts that often plague us when we’re attempting to be in the mindful present.

“What will people think if they see a grown woman resting on a bench in the woods looking up the sky?”

“Am I laying in someone’s discarded gum?”

“What if I fall asleep and am late to my next meeting?”

“Am I doing this right?”

To pull myself back to the current moment, I focused on the clouds again—not caring if I “got it right”. If the cupcake-shaped cloud became a pie, what did it matter? Why and when did I become so achievement-based? That also got me thinking about when I started to care if I “got things right”.

I’ve had a few interesting conversations with my inner child lately, and she has been encouraging me to let go. To enjoy for the sake of pleasure and to wander for the sake of delight and genuine curiosity. No achievement needed. Until recently, it was difficult (and sometimes impossible) for me to say the simple phrase, “I deserve good things” without a qualifier. In my head, I would believe I deserved good things, but only if I did ‘xyz’ thing or checked the box on an important goal. To believe that I deserved good things simply for being me was a foreign concept.

If you’re having a hard time believing or saying that to yourself, here’s your reminder: You deserve good things simply for being YOU. If you want to take it a step further, say it to yourself out loud. And if you’d like a bigger challenge, say it out loud to yourself in the mirror. Real talk? I’m still working on that one.

The truth is, when you believe you deserve good things and let your inner child lead the way—beautiful things can happen. 

Here are a couple of my recent favorites.

  • In the middle of working on a rather long to-do list, the song “Unstoppable” by Sia1 came on. Instead of ignoring it and carrying on, I decided it was time for a dance party. I had a spoon in my hand that I had just taken out of the dishwasher, and I didn’t even stop to put it down. I cranked the volume and tore it up in my kitchen for those 3 minutes–not a care in the world.
  • When I was in Spain, I woke up one morning and remembered I had brought back half of a pizza that I couldn’t finish the night before. I could have just gotten ready for the day and saved it for lunch or dinner that night, but I rolled right out of bed and straight to the fridge for some cold pizza for breakfast. Still in my pajamas, I took it out to the balcony and listened to the sounds of the city waking up while I enjoyed every single bite that was left as I basked in the morning sun.

We don’t get to know who we are because we’re not listening.

Keri Smith

Giving ourselves permission to throw out the rule book and look at things with childlike wonder can help us see things from a different perspective. And exploring without expectations or a destination, can help us uncover things within ourselves that may have been hidden…sometimes for a very long time. But as Keri Smith says, if we don’t clear out the noise, “We never get to hear our own inner voice-we don’t develop a relationship with ourselves and our minds. We don’t get to know who we are because we’re not listening.”

As a child, Mister Roger’s Neighborhood was one of my favorite shows to watch for this very reason. He was an adult who wasn’t afraid of being honest with children. In helping us tap into real emotions and not being ashamed of them, he normalized so many of the things that it means to be human. Instead of feeling ashamed of anger or frustration or sadness, he made it okay to feel those things. He gave us permission to dream and imagine and be silly. To be unapologetically US. And to encourage others to do the same. In the wise words of Fred Rogers2, “As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has or ever will have–something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”


I’ll be taking little-kid-Carissa energy into the rest of 2023 and beyond. Watch out world.

We have become experts at filling every spare moment with something to do and entertaining ourselves with all kinds of distractions in those few moments we find “downtime”. Instead of paying attention to the spark within us, we’re bogged down in all the things we think we “should do” and then recovering from the exhaustion by drowning ourselves with various diversions. What if we all channeled our inner children and took 5 minutes a day to go lay down outside somewhere and find shapes in the clouds? If we let ourselves enjoy a slice of cold pizza straight out of the fridge first thing in the morning? If we turned up the volume of one of our favorite songs to an obscene level and danced around the kitchen while waving a large spoon? Or spatula…I’m not here to judge.

Maybe instead of thinking me foolish for lying on a bench looking at the clouds, witnessing my few minutes of cloud-gazing gave someone else permission to honor their inner child. My point? Let’s spend more time leaning into things that light us up. Not only will it bring us joy, but it might be just what someone else needs to see to feel bold enough to do to the same.

Onward, inner 6-year-olds! Now, let’s go name some clouds.

1 If you’re looking for dance-around-your-kitchen song options, here’s a start:

  • “Unstoppable” by Sia
  • “Shake it Out” by Florence + the Machine
  • “Legendary” by Welshly Arms
  • “Green Light” by Lorde
  • “Now I’m in It” by HAIM
  • “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys
  • “Hello” by Dragonette
  • “I A’int Worried” by One Republic
  • “Dancing Queen” by ABBA
  • “Don’t Go Yet” by Camila Cabello

2 If you haven’t read “I’m Proud of You: My Friendship with Fred Rogers” by Tim Madigan, do it. You won’t regret it.

It’s Not All Glitz and Glamour

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“What if I completely lose my balance, slam into the door—accidentally opening it—and fall out with my pants down around my ankles and toilet paper wrapped around me like a mummy?” This was an actual thought I had while attempting the hover technique over a toilet while on a high-speed train. I had tried to hold it, but the water I had downed earlier was looking for a new home and there was no way my bare skin was going to touch the toilet seat in its current state. My fitness tracker told me that I had climbed the equivalent of 97 flights the day before, and when I say that I was feeling a little shaky, that’s an understatement. One of many memories that made me laugh afterwards, but was one of the less glamorous moments of my trip.

When posting about travels, I often share the beautiful pictures and wonderful memories made and leave out the “other stuff”. Let’s face it. That “other stuff” can be uncomfortable. Daunting. Disappointing. And sometimes a little scary. For me, agreeing to experience that “other stuff” is absolutely worth it, but I feel like it’s important to talk about because in many ways, it draws a remarkable parallel to what we encounter in life even when we’re not traveling. What about all the muck and gunk we have to wade through to get to the good stuff sometimes? Buckle up, dear reader. I’m going to lay it bare. 

I’m here to tell you…it doesn’t matter how much you prepare and plan, you will encounter moments that make you feel embarrassed, confused, and completely over your skis.

While abroad, I encountered a lot of unexpected things. Closures. Delays. Unclear directions. A bee in my scarf (more on that later). Various toilet “situations”. Feeling like the dumb out-of-towner. Now, this one I expected to feel at times, but I wasn’t expecting to feel it as much as I did. I’m here to tell you…it doesn’t matter how much you prepare and plan, you will encounter moments that make you feel embarrassed, confused, and completely over your skis. 

Lesson 1: It’s Okay to Ask for Help (Yes, Really. It’s Okay.)

By the time I got to Paris, I was feeling pretty confident about my ability to get around. I was on the back half of my trip and had learned a lot about how to navigate in different countries. The place I was staying was a 5-minute walk from the metro station and a 22-minute subway ride from the heart of Paris. I looked up the different metro lines, found the one I needed, and got myself to the station quickly. Easy peasy, right? Then, I got to the ticket kiosk. It took me a couple of minutes to figure it out, but I worked through it and ended up with a tiny paper ticket in hand. Feeling fairly proud of myself, I then walked to the turnstile. 

This is where it all fell apart. I could not for the life of me figure out where to put my ticket. The only thing I saw was a scanner where people badged in with their metro cards. I couldn’t see anywhere to put my ticket. I tried everything I could think of and was at a complete loss. A sweet, small, elderly woman saw me struggling. She walked right up to me, grabbed my ticket, put it in this tiny notch next to the scanner, and the ticket flew in and popped out by the turnstile. She gestured that I was supposed to take the ticket. As I grabbed it, I felt a hard shove on my back as she pushed me through. When I looked back to thank her, she was smiling and waving at me. No words were exchanged, but it was yet another moment where a kind stranger took pity on a clueless traveler and helped her find her way.

Lesson 2: Sometimes, Things Aren’t as Complicated as We Make Them

Remember the bee I mentioned earlier? I was sitting outside this beautiful cathedral in Bordeaux, soaking up the sun and taking in the views when this large bee flew in between my neck and the scarf I was wearing. Paralyzed, I was scared to move a muscle at first—trying to figure out if I could remove my scarf gently enough so that it wouldn’t sting me. I very slowly started to loosen it, and the bee simply flew away. In my mind, I was already doing the mental gymnastics I thought necessary to strategize how I was going to get this bee out and visualizing scenarios of it stinging me and my head swelling up to twice its normal size. But there was no need. Just a little space and a soft nudge was all that was required.

Lesson 3: Have a Conversation with Your Fear

In order to see some of the things I was wanting to see, I knew I was going to have to step outside my “happy place” when it came to heights. When I was climbing the 300 steps up the dome at Sacré-Coeur, I stopped halfway—not sure I could do it. I almost turned around and bailed. I was standing on this little landing that had a sign saying something like, “Only 167 steps to go!” and could feel the anxiety building. With my hand on the wall, my fear tried to talk me out of continuing. “You don’t really need to make it to the top. The view from the bottom is pretty amazing, even if you are surrounded by hordes of people. You’re scared now, but it could get worse. You don’t know what’s ahead.” That’s when I marshaled my courage and said, “That’s right. You don’t know what’s ahead. It could be amazing. You’re safe, and you can do this.” I know it sounds corny, but the pep talk worked and I kept moving. Shakily and one step at a time. 

When I got to an outdoor space before the next flight of stairs, a woman and her son were resting. She asked if I was okay and I said, “Yeah, thanks. I’m just not a fan of heights.” She smiled in understanding and replied, “My husband isn’t, either. He tells people that it’s not a fear…it’s an ‘intolerance’.” We both laughed and I told her I was going to steal that phrase. When I made it to the top, I let myself take as much time as I wanted to soak it all in. Not just because the views were incredible, but because I had done one more thing I wasn’t sure I could do. I had taken one more step toward tolerating my intolerance.

One of the views from the top of the dome of Sacré-Coeur

So often, we associate discomfort with “bad” and avoid it like the plague. We’re wired to. But living in (and with) discomfort is necessary in order to get to the heart of what it means to live a real life. This trip was a serious lesson in the radical acceptance of the present moment. There were so many incredible, jaw-droppingly beautiful moments. What a pity it would have been if I had let the few uncomfortable ones keep me from experiencing all the rest.

I would have missed out on getting to know the lady who ran the smoothie shop I visited when I desperately needed something to cool me down from hiking up and down steep city streets in the middle of a heat wave.

I might not have witnessed someone painting one of the famous Portuguese tiles in a small tile shop I randomly wandered across if the tile museum hadn’t been closed on the one day I could go, nudging me to explore elsewhere.

I would have never found the best sorbet ever if I hadn’t been desperate to find a bathroom and decided it was worth it to purchase something so I could get access to a toilet.

The moral of the story? Life will get bumpy sometimes. We’ll find ourselves in uncomfortable spots. Disheartened. Sad. Unsure. Grossed out. Embarrassed. Frustrated. Anxious. It is an ongoing battle for me to accept those feelings when they come. But it’s getting better…bit by bit. Navigating the bumps is worth it, and by leaning into those moments, we grow. And we get to experience some truly amazing and potentially life-changing things we wouldn’t have otherwise.

We often want to post the Instagram-“worthy” pictures and stories about phenomenal moments. And that’s ok! But I think we’re missing out if we don’t also share the other non-Instagrammable moments*. I hope by putting some of these stories out into the world, it helps others feel freer to share theirs. We are not alone in wading through the “other stuff”. This I know. May we cheer each other on in the glitz and the glamour and the muck and the gunk—for it is all a part of this perplexing, strange, and beautiful life.

*Disclaimer: These particular moments don’t need to be photographed. I feel like you all owe me a thank-you note for not including a picture of myself tangled in toilet paper, looking like a cartoon character as I balanced and braced myself in that train bathroom.