Something to think about.

"We are all beasts in this kingdom, we have all killed and been killed, and some new time has come to us in which we are called out to find another way to divide the world. Good and evil cannot be all there is." #BarbaraKingsolver, Small Wonder 

Living in tomorrow.

I'm not sure if life ever really stops rolling over into newness. If there is always something, and there is, then we are living in constant preparation for the next step, worrying about tomorrow, making endless to-do lists that never get checked off. I believe there is a fine detail, a small space between what echoes as living responsibly and what is really just a constant looking over your shoulder, permanent frown lines to match your furrowed brows.

I think we should look forward to things, true. I think we should attend to details, yes. I think we should believe a little more in what we're capable of, always. Big changes, even good changes, can be difficult, can be scary, can loom over us and feel impossible, can feel like the taming of some wild beast in the simple form of managing a schedule, making decisions, saying goodbyes. 

There is truth to being able to do what you claim is possible, to achieve what you say will be done. Reminding yourself every so often that you can do this, that the thing that stops you is only a self-perpetuated fear, a laziness steeped in resistance, and all at once you're there, in the center of a new universe, waiting for the word. 

New changes, some bittersweet, to come on the Holstee homefront, and happy news to follow soon. 

Being lost vs. Losing it

If "getting lost will help you find yourself" as the Holstee Manifesto reminds us, then I must be on the very edge of a massive discovery-inducing breakthrough.

Either that, or I'm more lost than ever before, and the breakthrough is miles from where I stand.

If we know that good things come to those who wait, (and we all know the wait involved in this particular scenario), AND if we can admit that most good things aren't without their challenges, then the simple if-not-annoying truth of it all is that when one thing falls in to place, other aspects (life in general) can start to seemingly unravel before you.

Too cryptic to make any real sense, I'm sure, the real point is that our problems, posed before us ready for a fight, also come with a choice, an option to press beyond them, or stay behind them, letting them take over and lead the way. Or worse, keep us from moving forward at all.

I was approached by a customer yesterday, the situation almost too ironic to bear, when he decided to inform me that we have a choice in life, to be happy or to be miserable, to stay or not, to let the circumstances win or to change them. If I ever have hated to agree with anyone more, I can't think of an example.

And, if I've ever encountered a situation where defeat felt like the more viable option, I can't think of an example of that, either. When a problem seems endless or less-than-manageable, carry on. The only way to get through it is directly through the center, through the very heart of it all, through the fire, through the loneliest place, the darkest hour. It can make you stronger, or it can make you quit. That choice, thank heaven, is ours to make. So let's keep moving. Let's do what we can with what we have, let's accept what we know and learn about what we don't. Let's make a decision, have patience, stick with something, and cut off what's hurting more than it's helping. Let's dig in, retrace our steps, and find the next turning point. It's there, somewhere. The only way to find it is to keep going.

Do a lot of work.

I recently attended a college graduation in West Palm Beach, Florida. My little (though not so little) sister and her little (teeny-tiny) boyfriend walked among 500+ students to receive recognition (annnd paper certification!) for their years of hard work, late nights, dedication, meeting goals and losing sleep.

I think most of us could say we know one person or another who turned their tassel this May: whether for an undergrad degree in this or that, a master's of higher learning, or a specifically fine-tuned doctorate in anything from the art world to the medical underworld and beyond.

The question then is: now what?

This isn't really a question reserved for the end of an era or the end of a school year. Rather, it applies more to the beginning of something, to the next-chaptering, to deciding where we go from here.

I can't help but turn to this particular print (one I've been led to through my new endeavors with Holstee) as a means of encouragement not only for myself, but for those who have launched out into the universe, those little artists with big hopes and big disappointments, to you, and to me, I give you this unfailing wisdom:

This here, truer than true, came from radio personality and NPR host Ira Glass. And even though its pertinence still rings true in my life, my life three years past the experience of being a student, of attending classes, of writing papers until three in the morning, I think it especially makes sense for those who are just starting out, walking for the first time on their own two feet, somewhere other than a hallway or a dorm room or an assembly.

The artist's life is a challenge, but it's one of the best lives their is to be had. It's the hardest thing EVER to not be your own critic, to settle into a routine, to give up what drives you in order to make a paycheck. It only makes sense, the world tells you, you need money to survive, artists don't make money, but fast food workers do. I should have majored in something else, you'll start to think, I should have been a pharmaceutical rep or a high school teacher.

I can say this with all certainty because I've done it. And every once in awhile, on my very worst days, I do it still. But we don't quit. We don't continue to seek "goodness" in what we're doing but rather we call it good because it's being DONE. The only thing we give up is the fear that if-someone-sees this/reads this/watches this/finds this-they-will-hate-me-and-know-I'm-a-fraud attitude. We continue on, we continue to recite monologues in the dark and paint until our hands stop working and write until our words run dry or we fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. We, as Glass insists, fight our way through by doing, which is something we might keep doing forever. But ask anyone who's done it, ask anyone who's fought and then faltered and then fought again: worth it, worth it, worth it.

The Holstee Manifesto, etc.

As most of my dear friends and family already know, I have recently begun a new chapter in my life, one of hope and promise and new-ness all around: I am the new Community Love Intern for Holstee! An NYC based company that conducts business on all levels of consciousness from ethically sourced materials to considering all angles of every opportunity to constantly asking questions to valuing life as a whole, Holstee is an intimate operation that's on the rise.

As many of you also know, my first introduction to this company came with the gift of their profoundly-worded Manifesto. With 8 million views around the world and counting, this daring and honest creed is getting attention, resonating with lives, and sparking necessary inspiration-turned-action.

While I found all areas of this plainly stated advice to be full of fundamental truth, when I first opened this beautiful poster by the Christmas tree this past year, my family all around, the words that met my heart the closest were: "IF YOU DON'T LIKE YOUR JOB, QUIT." Those who know me, again, also know oh-so-well the struggle that has been my life for the past few years. In terms of finding a sense of purpose, an idea of calling and of real contribution more than just a paycheck, I have been scouring the earth it seems for a place to which I could find real belonging, real drive, real spark. I mulled this dilemma over all day, in my sleep, to my friends, to myself. I could recite my resume line by line, I could give you lists of pros and cons, I could tell you I was not meant for a cubicle or a cash register, I devoted a blog in order to record my misery, my journey, my self-discoveries, though I could not say how I imagined the future, all blurred and hazy before me.

I only hoped that when the right fit presented itself that I, like only a handful of other times in my life (ie. my bout in Los Angeles, a huge decision to move on, meeting my Colin), would know it instantly, would feel a gravitational pull towards it, would have no doubt. And even though I hoped for it each day, for years, I surely faltered and doubted and spun aimlessly.

This blog is therefore dedicated to what I'll label as the next step. Change is here, and it's hugely exciting and it's what keeps us moving forward. As I shared with my new Holstee family yesterday, change is never as frightening as it is exhilarating. I'm learning each day, more about what this particular position requires, but also about myself, about what truly matters to me, and how incorporating that into our daily ventures is possible and important. I'll be writing up about Holstee itself, what this experience teaches me, what it makes me realize, re-realize, the people I've been lucky to meet, the ways it forces and encourages me to grow, etc.

POSITIVE CHANGE, PEOPLE. POSITIVE CHANGE.