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Tag: experience

Being human

Recently I was rejected. I spent a lot of time crafting the perfect letter, re-writing and re-reading and editing the hell out of my argument to compose a convincing, logical, matter-of-fact and to the point submission. I sent in my proposal confidently. The rejection was prompt, and, of course, it stung.

I received a phone call several days later. “You have to explain why YOU want this,” the man instructed, “You have to say why YOU, not anyone else. They didn’t buy it.” I removed too much humanity from my writing, and the panel wasn’t pleased. They didn’t want perfect. They weren’t looking for politically or grammatically correct. They wanted the messy version: gritty, personal, detailed. They wanted human.

I submitted a second letter, this time writing for a friend. I wrote truthfully, about relationships and desire. I mentioned insecurities and inserted myself back onto the page. It worked.

Panels, bosses, review boards and government agencies — yes, they have a pulse, too. This is the place where we connect, where we can build bridges, where we can learn from each other and help ease our suffering.

Let’s not forget our where our commonalities lie. Our hearts beat the same.

I will tell you how to get what you want

If I told you there there was one thing you could do every day to get you exactly what you want, would you do it? (The body, the girl, the salary, the job, the car, the book deal, the promotion, the ring, whatever.)
I’ll tell you exactly what you need to hear; concrete steps that inch you towards your dream, but before I do, you must commit to doing one act daily. (This tells me if you really, REALLY actually want it. Or if you’re just pretending.) You must promise: one action, every day.
Would you do it?
Because somehow we’ve stepped onto the all-or-nothing bandwagon. Yes, we’ll get on board, but only if we can run a fast sprint to where we want to go. “Daily” means commitment and time, both of which sound daunting. “Can you guarantee the outcome?” you say. “OK, maybe I’ll try. But ONLY if I’m promised That Thing.” Because it’s too much work, too much effort. And the dream! It’s so far away, we can’t even see it from here. So why bother?
Now I want to ask: What if your dream isn’t really it?
What if, at the end of 90 days, you change. If, 124 days later, your perspective shifts and you realize you actually want something else. What if, at the end of 315 days, you find yourself happier? On the 402nd day, you discover a completely new you, a you with more happiness and grace and wealth and peace than you ever before imagined.
Our lives expand when we move past all or nothing. All or nothing typically results in self-sabotage; we give up, we give in, we feel guilt and disappointment and shame if we can’t go from 0 to 10. We want what we want, and we want it NOW. If we can’t get it now, very few people will invest the time and energy to get it later.
But what if small steps made us feel better? If a 10 minute daily walk brought us more peace and comfort in our bodies than bi-weekly torture sessions in the gym? If small pieces of chocolate were included into our days instead of weekly binge “cheat” days? If our dream of writing a book happened slowly, over time, instead of “When I quit my job…when I take a vacation…when I get a raise…when the kids leave the house?”
What if your dream could start today? Maybe not the grandiose final version, not the iPhone 7, but the first generation; something real and tangible and in our hands. Today.
Would you take some rather than none? Or do you want to hold onto an empty dream?

I quit

All my life I was told quitting was a big no-no. A character flaw. A deficit. Giving up.
Quitting possibly saved my life.
It’s been almost two years since I threw everything into the dumpster and came to Nepal. Don’t get me wrong, before I stepped onto the plane, I did some major assessment and calibration. I tried switching states, changing jobs, ending a relationship. Nothing worked. I had a relentless void, an absence of satisfaction and enthusiasm I couldn’t put my finger on.
There’s a moment that is scary as hell to recognize “This isn’t what I want.” Daily decisions add up, and habits cement themselves overtime. Suddenly, we wake up. It’s like stepping out from backstage, and the spotlights sting your eyes as you struggle to peer into the audience.
Quitting takes planning and courage. But it should NOT be written off as an option. If you need help deciding whether to quit or stick, I’ve listed seven great resources at the bottom of this article.

Fear and places we connect

On Valentine’s Day, I gave roses to strangers in Nepal. It sounds beautiful, but it began as a terrifying experience. I couldn’t bring myself to hand the first rose to an adult, I was too petrified. “What will she think? What will I say? What if the gift isn’t appreciated?” Instead, I approached a ten-year-old sitting beside her grandmother. The smile on the little girl’s face and her accompanying enthusiasm gave me the courage I needed to continue. Almost three dozen roses were distributed throughout the day.

Brené Brown discusses this kind of fear in Krista Tippett’s podcast (On Being is one of my favorites). She labels moments of vulnerability and insecurity as opportunities, treasures that allow us to connect more deeply with others. When we open ourselves to uncertainty and encounter moments of fear, we step into the doorway of stronger relationships. So we do shy away from these moments of doubt?

It takes courage to connect, but the rewards are endless.

PS – Invitations will soon be sent for March’s dinner event in New York City. Make sure you’re on the list or send me a note if you’re interested in attending.

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-by Oriah

7 steps to finding happiness

1. Put yourself in the position of opportunity. Go where there is more.

2. Do what you’re good at.

3. Big goals are great but don’t become so focused on them you can’t reroute if necessary.

4. Focus on the now: does your heart sink or flutter? Is there a rock in your stomach when you head to work?

5. What is taking you away from your present experience? How can you limit these distractions and refocus your attention?

6. Find people you can “do your thing with.” People who accept you for being 110% you. People who sit with you when you’re feeling less than your best, who can pick up the phone and give you two minutes of their time when you really need it.

7. Stop trying.

I’ll repeat that last one: stop trying to be happy. It’s temporal, elusive, impermanent. Those low points — depression, sadness, emptiness, loneliness, dejection? They serve as a barometer, an unexpected gift to let you know whether you’re on (or off) track.