A little gratitude

I have decided that it would be in the best interest of all things for me to remember what I'm grateful for. Some days that list is long or short, some days I feel like I'm forcing it, some days I think I could go on from dawn 'til dusk counting the ways in which I find life endearing, lucky, and inexplicably good.

I think the best way to remember to stay grateful is by method, by practice, with sincere intention. For me, a list-maker by nature, that involves a stock-piling of post-its, notes scribbled on the side of an envelope, reminders tapped into my iPhone, all things to keep me motivated, grounded, and thankful.

Lately, here they are:

1. Cute Colin. Having finally experienced real love and a best friend, my life has been forever changed by this particular person, this boy who made me believe in fate, among many other things.
2. Never going hungry. I'm not sure if it's the weather or the change in the air, but I've never felt hungrier than I have for the past few weeks of my life. Every time I feel that pang, I have food nearby. A simple thing, one would think, until a time when you suddenly are forced to do without.
3. Train rides, ie. an uninterrupted hour to read.
4. Bike rides. No explanation necessary.
5. Looking for apartments, which has truly become exciting, a little scary, and a little more exciting again. Making it work is one of the best imaginings I've had in a long time.

Remembering to be grateful in the midst of trials, in the middle of things we aren't exactly glad about, seems like it would be especially difficult. Who knew, however, that it is that very thing that brings us through it, that very thing that keeps us sane enough, that brings us around again to wholeness, to wellness, to feeling new again.

Some sound advice.

Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you, figure out what you have to say. It's the one and only thing you have to offer. #BarbaraKingsolver


What she said.

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.