Tag: self discovery

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.

The Messy Middle

carissaricci

Limbo. The in-between. Neither here nor there. In suspension. 

These are all phrases that describe the feeling when you’re in the process of big transitions and have jumped from one side but haven’t made it to the other yet. I personally prefer using the term “messy middle” because that’s realistically more of what it feels like to me. Let’s get rid of the fluffy language and inspirational posters about “enjoying the journey” and really dig into what it means to be in the space between.

When I find myself in the “messy middle”, the only remedies I’ve found that help me sit with the discomfort of those moments are getting out in nature and listening to music (not always done together or in that order).

If I’m sitting with something really big, I have to get outside. In true Pacific NW fashion, that typically means heading to a trail in the woods…preferably on a mountain somewhere. Away from my computer. Away from my phone. Away from distractions. That’s where I can catch my breath, clear out the noise, and just be.

One of my favorite ways to process hard things is to grab my backpack and spend the entire day hiking in the woods. Crossing streams. Sitting with my feet in waterfall pools. Listening to the wind in the trees. Hearing the impact of my hiking boots hitting the trail. My breath going in and out as I climb…and then taking in the amazing views when I make it to the top. Sitting in wonder—finally reconnecting to the heart of myself and also feeling like a small part of something so much bigger than me. That’s where I find my center.

If I can combine hikes with ocean views, I’m always down for that.

So, where does music come in?

My obsession with music started when I was a kid. I played it all the time. And I mean all the time. When the Walkman1 became a thing, I was hooked. It meant I could take my tunes with me wherever I went. Music has always spoken to my soul in a way that nothing else does—it goes beyond the words and melodies—it touches places within me that I can’t get to any other way. I still use music to process hard things, and even when I’m not in the midst of big stuff, I usually have something going in the background. Studying. Working. Hanging with friends. Road trips. Workouts. They all have soundtracks. 

These are some of the “messy middle” songs2 I’ve been listening to lately:

(Never Let Me Go  |   Florence + The Machine)

For me, this is a reminder to surrender to the unfolding and natural flow of life. So often, we try and control outcomes or make plans in an effort to protect ourselves. What if we let the “arms of the ocean” carry us for awhile instead?

(Every Teardrop is a Waterfall  |  Coldplay)

When I first heard this song, the lyrics about being “in the gap between the two trapezes” stuck with me. I’ve caught myself humming this song a lot lately because my life is feeling very much like I’m hanging in that gap. (Side note: This is a 2-for-1 growth opportunity for me. Since I have a fear of heights, I can work on that whilst I also try to make my peace with existing between one side and the other.)

(Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay  |  Otis Redding)

One of my favorite things is to sit on a sand dune and watch the waves roll in and out. It has been hard for me to embrace stillness, but I’m getting there. I’ve been working on finding the value in myself beyond what I can “produce” or “do”. There’s a peace that comes with knowing that our existence is enough. We are enough—just as we are.

(The Space Between  |  Dave Matthews Band)

The longer I’m alive, the more I realize just how much time we truly spend in “the space between”. Languishing. Longing. Yearning. Waiting for what’s next. I’ve been trying to embrace both the tears and the laughter, knowing that both are temporary and will undoubtedly come around—again and again—as we sit in the messy middles of life.

(The Eye  |  Brandi Carlile)

This conjures up such a beautiful image for me…and is also aspirational. It would be incredible to be able to let the chaos of life swirl around me, and instead of letting it batter me about, I could stay grounded in the eye of the storm. And dance.

As you swing from one trapeze to the next, remember who you are and that you are loved—regardless of when that other side rises up to meet you.

If you’re in some “messy middles” in your life, know this:

It’s okay to be in the mess. It’s okay to be exactly where you are—you don’t need to fix it or figure it out today. Find some anchors. In a close friend. A favorite song. A beautiful trail hike. Your own breath. Stay grounded in the knowledge that you are not alone in the in-between.3

As you swing from one trapeze to the next, remember who you are and that you are loved—regardless of when that other side rises up to meet you. Because it will. It might not look like what you thought it would, but it will come. Until then, let’s do our best to dance in the eye of the storm together. Maybe with a little flair. Because, let’s be real…it’s just more fun that way.

1 For those of you that are too young to know what a Walkman is, Google it and prepare to be amused. Side note: If you’re really young, you might also have to Google “cassette tape”.

2 Disclaimer: Everyone has their own interpretation of songs and there are usually many different ones out there—these interpretations are my own (and can also change by the minute depending on what I’m feeling in the moment), but feel free to steal them if they will help you process your own big stuff.

3 If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been so distracted by processing my own “messy middles” lately, that I absentmindedly put my keys in the freezer this morning. You’re doing just fine.

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.

      What Would Your Inner Child Say?

      carissaricci

      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

      carissaricci

      “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. 

      Going Solo (Part 3)

      carissaricci

      “Bad GPS!” I heard the Uber driver yell as he attempted to get me from the train station to the place I was staying for the night. He knew very little English and I knew even less Portuguese. As we continued to wind through the streets in the dark, I checked to see if my GPS would work properly…and it did. Thankfully. I managed to communicate to him to pull over so I could get in the front seat. My phone wouldn’t fit in the device where he had his, so I held it at eye level for him. The entire trip. My arm was shaking by the time we got there. The situation was so funny, that we ended up bursting into laughter a number of times before we finally found the location and he dropped me off. Another moment that still brings a smile to my face.

      So often, we want or expect things to go a certain way—but many times, they don’t. These last few weeks have been such good practice for me to roll with the unexpected while learning some lessons along the way.

      Lesson 1: Don’t Assume (You Know What They Say About Assuming, Right?)

      In my Bilbao hotel, the shower situation seemed wonky. It was in a small corner in the bathroom which was no big deal. But when I went to open the door, it opened in toward the shower and left barely enough space for me to squeeze myself inside before shutting the door. For the first couple of nights, I found myself wondering how anyone who was any bigger than me would fit. There was no way. Did they pole vault themselves in over the top? Most of my shower time those first days were spent pondering that question. 

      On the last night, I grabbed the shower door handle to push it forward and then slipped a little and the shower door went the other direction leaving plenty of space for me to walk in. Yep. That’s right. The shower door opened both directions. I spent my last shower in that hotel room laughing at myself. How many times in life have I done things like that? Making an assumption that the first thing I try is the right way to do it instead of trying the opposite tactic (or at the very least, a different one). 

      Lesson 2: Get Creative

      On a train from Spain to France, I was sitting next to a man who was reading a graphic novel in Japanese, but he also had his phone open. Puzzled, but not wanting to seem stalker-ish, I ventured a quick glance to see what he was doing. On his phone, he had the same book pulled up in what I guessed was a language he felt confident with. He had headphones on–I’m not sure if he was also listening to it or jamming to his favorite tunes, but I thought it was such a cool way to learn a new language. Learn something new by doing something you love. Another lesson in opening the aperture to different possibilities. 

      Lesson 3: TRUST

      One of the last legs of my trip took me from Paris to Bruges. Another train ride, with this one connecting through Brussels. When I got off the train to catch the next one, I checked my ticket and asked one of the employees on the platform if she could help me find the train I needed since the train number on my ticket didn’t match any of the departing trains listed on the board. She told me it was the next one coming on the same platform, but I hesitated because that one was going to Amsterdam which was not in the direction I needed to travel. 3 more people later, I finally found someone who looked at the code on my ticket and said, “Yeah, this isn’t going to get you there. Your ticket is for an intercity train. That’s not this one. And I don’t know where it’s leaving from. You’ll just have to check the boards.” With only 5 minutes left to catch it, I could feel urgency pumping through my veins as I scanned the boards. Nothing I could see had my destination, but there was another one going to somewhere else in Belgium and left at the same time as it said on my ticket. It was the best bet, so I grabbed my luggage and raced all the way to Platform 16. Out of breath and wondering if I was even in the ballpark of where I needed to be, I could only hope. Looking at the board on the platform, they finally listed the stops and Bruges was one. It was delayed 8 minutes…I would have made it even if I hadn’t sprinted. 

      This particular lesson keeps chasing me down, reminding me to let go and trust. To lean on my intuition and know that I will handle what comes my way.

      When I walked back through the door of my home, the oddest feeling came over me—like I was a stranger in my own house.

      As my current round of travels have come to a close, I find myself already wanting to buy the next plane ticket to somewhere I haven’t explored yet. I opened Pandora’s Box and there’s no way I’m going to be able to shove everything back inside—and I don’t want to. 

      When I walked back through the door of my home, the oddest feeling came over me—like I was a stranger in my own house. I have outgrown my former life. It no longer fits. I was snatched completely out of the hamster wheel of my “normal” life for an extended period of time, and now those patterns that felt slightly uncomfortable before? They feel unbearable now. Instead of feeling like that irritating itch on the back of your neck you get from t-shirt tags, it feels like I’m now wearing clothes made entirely of those same tags.

      When I was eating dinner in Lisbon one evening, the server who was taking care of me asked me if it was my first trip to Portugal. I replied that it was, but that I have Portuguese heritage. His eyebrows rose in delight, and then he leaned in and put his hand on my shoulder. “Well then,” he said, “welcome home.” I hadn’t planned on giving my dinner a sprinkling of tears that night, but as I’ve learned…when the tears come, I need to let them be. 

      As I’m continuing to reflect on my time abroad, the memory of that moment with the waiter in Portugal keeps coming up, and I think I know why. This trip was another huge step in the returning home to myself. Even if my physical house doesn’t feel like home anymore, I’ve realized I’m at home wherever I go—as long as I’m living in a way that is authentically me.

      Exploring Lisbon

      Thinking about living the life I want, it sometimes feels like a lonely road. I don’t know a lot of people who want the same type of life I do, but I remind myself that no matter how far the physical distance, I will always be connected to the people I love.

      When I was traveling, I messaged a good friend with, “No idea how I’m going to go back to normal life after this.” He replied, “But what if this becomes your new normal life?” As soon as I read what he wrote, I smiled the biggest smile. On my way home, another dear friend messaged me with, “May you be gentle with you and go slow. Everything may look the same as when you left – and yet I have a sense you may not be.”

      I keep going back to those wise words from both friends as I try to find my way into whatever this next phase looks like for me. They are another reminder that no matter where I go, the bonds of friendship formed over the years will forever be interwoven into my journey. This is what gives me the courage to keep taking steps forward. To all of the friends in my life who are cheering me on—thank you. Your love and support are helping fuel my feet as I continue to seek out what’s next.

      To all of us who are continuing to march toward our own true north, I know it’s hard. Some days, excruciating. But we’ve got this. We really do. So, let’s keep going.

      Going Solo (Part 2)

      carissaricci

      “If a tree falls in the woods, but no one is around to hear it, did it make a noise?” This feels related to a more relevant question for today: “If we don’t take pictures of our experiences and post them, did they really happen?” (In case you’re wondering? Yes. I realize how old I sound when I say things like that.) 

      As I’m traveling, I regularly battle against the desire to take pictures of literally everything. Each time I turn a corner, there is some beautiful sight to behold and the temptation to capture it is so strong. After a couple of days of fighting the urge, I made a deal with myself. I could take a few pictures of whatever I wanted, but then I made myself put the phone away and just stand in the moment. Taking it all in. The light. The sounds. The smells. The feelings. And I let myself say things like “I can’t believe I’m actually standing here looking at this.” I allowed the goodness to wash over me and didn’t move on until I felt ready.

      Photography is a favorite hobby of mine, so it’s ridiculously easy for me to get swept up in capturing a moment while forgetting to actually be in the moment. The lesson for me in all of this is to slow down and intentionally be present in my life as much as possible. Much easier said than done—but a worthy cause.

      Similarly, I had to resist the pull to see “all the things”. As I walked the streets, a little voice in the back of my mind would whisper, “How can you come to [insert city name] and not see [insert name of famous structure/art piece/park…]? If you’re not seeing those things, are you really doing this trip right?” As the days passed, it became easier to quiet that voice. And the people I met along the way helped me. 

      My first impulse was to feel frustration at the unexpected turn of events, but then I realized that my word of intention for 2023 was TRUST. So I trusted. And I’m so glad I did.

      About halfway through the train trip from Bilbao to Barcelona, we suddenly ground to a halt. Everyone around me was chattering away in Spanish and I had no clue what was going on. The woman next to me, seeing that I couldn’t understand, opened her phone and typed a phrase into Google Translate to let me know that the delay was likely going to be a long one—at least an hour. 

      My first impulse was to feel frustration at the unexpected turn of events, but then I realized that my word of intention for 2023 was TRUST. So I trusted. And I’m so glad I did. That first sentence she typed into Google Translate turned into hours of us typing back and forth to each other—a friendship forged out of what some would deem a misfortune. I learned about where she was from, things she loved to do, and some interests we had in common. When she found out I grew up in California, she said something that I didn’t understand and gestured like she was a gorilla. My quizzical expression sent her back to her phone and she typed “Arnold Schwarzenegger”. I laughed and typed back, “It’s sad to me that’s what people outside the states think of when they think of California,” which then sent us both into a fit of giggles and a handful of Terminator jokes. 

      It then hit me that I would need to try and contact the person who was supposed to meet me where I was staying to let me in. It was already going to be a late check-in, but now I wondered how in the world I was supposed to expect someone to stay up past midnight to let me in. His response? “I won’t leave you sleeping in the streets! And remember: there’s nothing to worry about, we are in Spain!” Another lesson in trusting. In believing in the goodness of other humans. In rolling with the moment. Everything has a way of working out—even if it’s not in the way we expect. 

      Looking up in La Sagrada Familia

      After arriving in Barcelona and getting a good sleep, I found myself in La Sagrada Familia the next day. I had seen it from the outside before, but had never been inside and let me tell you—if you’re questioning whether or not to buy the ticket, DO IT. It was one of the few places I’ve been where my breath was literally taken away when I stepped through the doors. I let myself marvel at every incredible view. As I wondered into each nook and cranny, I found this small area in a back corner with an agent standing at the entrance. He informed me that the space was for meditation, reflection, or prayer and that there were no pictures allowed. I agreed and entered. It was a chapel space with a few pews and only one other person already there—he left soon after I took my seat in the back. My intention was for reflection. I’m not a religious person and trying to meditate in such a spectacular setting felt like it was just setting me up for failure in such a mind-blowingly beautiful place. Good luck not getting distracted, right? 

      As I sat there reflecting on my life, and in particular, these last few years—the tears flowed freely. The culmination of the “everything’s” and the intensity of those “everything’s”. Joy. Grief. Pain. Exuberance. Gratitude. All at once. In this transcendent space, I let myself feel it all. A woman walked in a minute later and my first reaction was one of embarrassment until I realized that she was crying, too. She took her seat at the other end of the pew I was sitting in, and we both took in the gorgeous light of the stained glass windows while feeling all the feels. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know her name or what her life is like. I don’t know why she was crying. But in that moment, I felt inextricably connected to her. After I had processed what I felt like I needed, I got ready to leave. I looked over at her and she looked back at me. Tears still in our eyes, we each placed a hand over our hearts in acknowledgement of the other. A soft smile which was immediately reciprocated. And then I slipped out quietly, not wanting to disturb the rest of her time.

      When I’m headed in the right direction, I now have deep clarity about what that feels like. Heart forward. Heart open.

      When I finally stepped outside to get one last look at this massive architectural masterpiece, I felt an all-consuming warmth and contentment of spirit—and also a renewed resolve to continue following this path I’m on. Something has clicked in a big way for me on this trip. When I’m headed in the right direction, I now have deep clarity about what that feels like. Heart forward. Heart open.

      Yesterday, I caught a train from Aix-en-Provence to Bordeaux and as I was waiting on the platform, three Italian women came and sat next to me, asking me if they were catching the right train. Trotting out the faithful Google Translate, we had a lovely conversation as we waited. When we parted at the transfer in Marseille, the woman I talked with the most thanked me for the chat, wished me a wonderful trip, and kissed me on each cheek with a “Ciao, bella!” and a hearty wave in farewell.

      So, in answer to my previous question of “Am I doing this trip right?” The answer is YES. Absolutely. These new friends and moments of true connection mean more to me than any place I’ve visited. Although all of my experiences over the last few weeks will forever hold a special place in my heart, it’s the lovely interactions I will remember most—a vibrant reminder of our shared humanity. What a gift.

      Going Solo

      carissaricci

      You know that phrase, “Wherever you go, there you are”? That used to hold such a negative connotation for me—as if I had to drag the heavy luggage filled with all of my pain and trauma behind me for the rest of my life with no escape. At some point along the way, I reframed it. It was no longer about fighting against who I am, but embracing it. One of life’s many great ironies.

      I began to take each piece of clothing out of that luggage and make friends with parts of myself that I had previously tried to shove out of sight. In grappling with that process, I’ve found a peace and calm in my life that I didn’t think I could have. Does that mean everything’s perfect and I feel like that all the time? No way. It’s an ongoing process. I often have to grab that luggage, sit on the floor, slide the zippers, fling it open, and redouble my efforts to accept all the pieces inside.

      To help me take the leap, I planned a trip—a big one.

      For most of my life, I’ve been waiting for someone to give me permission to be who I am, to accept myself, and to do the things I know are right for me. Why? Because it feels safer to walk that road…even if it means not living life to the fullest. I’ve decided I’m no longer willing to make that sacrifice. The latest chapter in my story has been asking me to take a different way. To honor my truest self. To craft my own path and write my story in a way that honors my deepest longing.  

      To help me take the leap, I planned a trip—a big one. I offered a few different friends the opportunity to join me, but it didn’t end up working out. I wasn’t necessarily planning to do it solo, but something deep down within me knew that it needed to be. As my departure date approached, I found myself feeling grateful. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have imagined doing something like this by myself, but lately, the yearning to explore has continued to knock at the door—louder and louder. And the thought of having the freedom to wander in my own way was eagerly beckoning.

      To give myself even more of a challenge to step outside my comfort zone, I booked a few nights in a hostel dorm. I had no idea what to expect, but it has been one of my favorite experiences so far. So many kind humans have crossed my path, willing to share their tips and recommendations and allowing me to return the favor with my suggestions. After hitting it off with one particular dorm mate, we ended up spending the afternoon together on a trip down the river and then grabbed a bite to eat while swapping life stories and travel tales. One of many beautiful moments that will stay with me long after the trip ends.

      The evening before, our hostel hosted a folk dancing night. Normally, this is something where I’d sit on the sidelines to enjoy it. But not here. Not only was I invited in, but I genuinely wanted to be part of it. There was so much joy and laughter exploding out of that room as we swung each other around, not caring if we “messed it up”…when we made a misstep, we just laughed harder. I went to bed that night with an incredibly full heart and a huge smile on my face.

      So, what’s next? I’m currently on a train speeding through the European countryside watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky, marveling at the beauty all around me. Not sure what my next few days of exploration will bring—and I don’t need to know. There’s so much joy in stepping off a train into a new town and getting lost in its streets. I have a few more weeks of adventuring to my heart’s content and I’m not rushing any part of it. I’m taking things one hour at a time and delighting in the unknown, which is new for me (but fits all the same). I have met so many wonderful people, and even though I’m traveling solo, I have never once felt alone. 

      I know how I want to feel, and for now, that’s plenty good enough. My plan is to keep saying yes.

      I’m only a little over a week in and my soul feels like it has been lit on fire in the best way. For the first time in a very long time, I feel completely in my life. This is giving me a small taste of so many things I want more of. I don’t know what the future is going to look like, but I’m okay with that. I know how I want to feel, and for now, that’s plenty good enough. My plan is to keep saying yes. To plane rides. To bus rides. To train rides. To trying new things. To making new friends. To living in other countries. To satisfying that curious wanderer in me. To continue expanding the edges of my comfort zone—all in pursuit of the continued returning home to myself. 

      If you’re on the fence about jumping into something you know is right for you, but you’re feeling a little nervous about it, this is your sign. Take the leap. You’re not alone—I’m doing it right alongside you. We can jump together.

      Homecoming

      carissaricci

      “Stop ‘should-ing’ on yourself,” someone once said to me. It made me laugh when she said it, and then I immediately realized how much I had been “should-ing” on myself my entire life. 

      We are conditioned for it. Our upbringings, societal pressures, and life experiences can all lead us into massive amounts of self-limiting behavior. “I can’t do that.” “That would never work out.” “I’m not good enough for that.” I was adept at regularly telling myself those false stories.

      In March of 2020, the real awakening began for me. I was staring down the barrel of the COVID pandemic lockdown, having just received word that my divorce was final. I realized that I had “should-ed” my way through too many years in a marriage that didn’t feel right and felt trapped in a job that was becoming more and more unhealthy.

      For many people (myself included), lockdown was uncomfortable because it meant sitting with all of the hard feelings we usually try so hard to distract ourselves from or otherwise avoid. I was in a swirl of some of the most difficult feelings I’d ever encountered, and ended up spending way more quality time with myself than I would have preferred. Looking back now, though, it was exactly what I needed. Excruciating, but simultaneously freeing, it opened my eyes to how many dreams I had put on the shelf all in the name of “should”. How much I had lost faith in myself and given that power to others, all because I thought I “should”. How I let fear take the wheel far too often and, in the process, sacrificed the very thing that makes me a vital and vibrant human…being true to what I know is right for me.

      I had tried so hard to live a more conventional life. Good job. House in the suburbs. Married. A dog. I didn’t have the white picket fence yet, but that was on the list for the following year. 

      I was bored, miserable, and completely burned out.


      When I started to question what my life would be like if I took those limits off, it felt scary. I liked plans. Order.

      When I was younger, I used to pretend I wanted a more conventional life because I thought that’s what I “should” want, when in reality, I was in the corner flipping through National Geographic magazines and encyclopedias*, dreaming of seeing as many places as I could before I died. I aspired to be “successful” (i.e. good job, nice car, beach house) because that’s, of course, what I thought I “should” do in order to be accepted as someone who wasn’t a failure. As a teenager, I went on unhealthy diets trying desperately to shrink myself into an image of what I thought I “should” look like. I was a straight-A student. Valedictorian of my 8th grade class. Enrolled in Honors and AP courses in high school. Nothing was ever good enough, and running on that hamster wheel of “should’s” was exhausting. Always trying to fit into the boxes laid out for me, no matter how uncomfortable. Trying to cram myself into them was going to be the end of me.

      Manzanita, Oregon
      –
      Dreaming big dreams while standing on this dune was
      a pivotal moment in the returning to myself.

      When I started to question what my life would be like if I took those limits off, it felt scary. I liked plans. Order. It felt good to know what was coming around the bend…or at least to have planned and overthought every eventuality so I could prepare myself for anything. 

      In service of trying to plan for some of those worst case scenarios, I was frequently the master of the “What if….?” What if I end up penniless on the street corner? What if I fail? A good friend looked at me after a session of my “What if-ing” and said, “Yeah, but…what if it all works out?” I remember that now anytime I feel myself slip into catastrophizing. “What if…” can actually be a really empowering question.


      Success means something very different to me now than it did a few years ago.

      So, what does all this mean for me now? I’m certainly not perfect at it, but I’ve made some significant progress at keeping the “should’s” in their place. And my “What if’s…” are now reframed as dreams when I catch them peeking around the corner at me trying to entice me down the fear-based rabbit hole. When I used to think about the future, it would be 90% terror and 10% excitement. Now, it’s the other way around.

      I’m completely in love with the fact that I’m no longer striving for a conventional life. I have been liberated now that I’m not trying to contort myself to fit into those boxes anymore. I don’t know the specifics of what the future holds, but I know this…I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and my dreams are no longer collecting dust on the shelf. Success means something very different to me now than it did a few years ago. 

      I took the leap into a job that was much healthier for me. I’m going to be self-publishing a book that took me years to write. I don’t care if it becomes a bestseller—putting my creation out into the world is enough. I’ll be traveling overseas this spring and am counting down the days like a kid counting the days until Christmas. I’m pursuing a future that will allow me to live abroad and see the places I saw only in pictures as a child. And I will continue to run full-out toward the soul of myself again and again. No matter what. I hope you do, too.

      *If you’re too young to know what an encyclopedia is, check this out and be glad you’ve never had to flip through an index with 8-point font and a 28-47% chance of finding what you wanted.