Dear Jean(s)

Dear Jean(s),

I've had to make some difficult decisions lately. I don't think you'll be surprised about where this is going, but I need to be clear for both our sakes.

This relationship we have — it's just not working anymore.

We've been together so long I can't even remember when we first met. Way before I started in with Project 333. (You had no idea what we'd be getting into, did you? Honestly, I didn't either.)

You and me — we weren't love at first sight, but more of a gradual coming-together over a few years. And then we were hot and heavy for quite a long time. Out for pizza on Friday nights. Country dancing weekly. Walking the pup. Heck, you traveled everywhere I did this year — which was quite a commitment. Those TSA folks can be a bit grabby.

Unfortunately, these last six months ... well, things have shifted.

I'd say it's not you, it's me, but actually I think it's both of us. We've gone different ways. The way you hang about, it's not as cute as it used to be. (In fact, it's not at all flattering.) To be honest, I'm concerned about you. You're just not holding up the same. And you seem to be a bit frayed around the edges.

I know I've changed too. I've been asking for more out of the ones I really care about. I've not hung you out to dry, but I have been turning on the heat and tossing you around a bit. I'm sorry if it's been more take than give on my part.

I'll always look fondly on our time together and I wish you the best. I know there's someone out there that will once again fit to you like a glove. And though there will never be another one just like you, I'm certain there's someone new out there for me too.

All my best,

Kirsten

Burnt popcorn and bad days

I'm having a day.

Actually, I'm having a week. Maybe a month.

Maybe more.

I'm having the kind of day that feels like your kitchen smells when you accidentally burn popcorn in the microwave. Like really burn it. Like when the bag is actually black and smoking and you're effing up a storm while tossing it all in the trash. And then you realize if you don't actually throw it into the trash outside, it's going to continue to stink up your house for days. (And on top of that, it was your last bag of popcorn.)

I'm having that kind of day.

It started — at least this latest variation of "day" — when I watched this social experiment video yesterday morning. (Go ahead. Watch it. It's just 3 minutes. I'll wait here.)

The CliffsNotes version: A bunch of individuals were asked to rate their success on a scale of 1 to 10 and talk about how they feel about themselves. Then friends and family members of those individuals were also asked to rate their particular loved ones' success. (If you didn't watch, I bet you can guess how this went.)

What I want to know is how would you rate yourself on a scale of 1 to 10?

Because even though many of us could guess how this experiment would go just from watching the first few seconds, just from hearing the gist of it, I think many of us still would rate ourselves lower than we should. Lower than we are. And lower than the people closest to us would rate us.

Oh, how I would love to feel like a 10 in my life. Or a 9.75. Or even an 8 most days.

But the truth is, it takes work to feel like I'm at the top of the scale. And on some days, like today, getting to 5 feels hard. And when getting to 5 feels hard, everything feels hard. Getting work done feels hard. Running errands feels hard. Heck, getting out of bed feels hard.

I have no easy answers for you, or for me. But I do know that my self-talk plays a major role in my day-to-day. The good days, and the not-so-good days. And I also know that a positive word from a friend can help shift stuff. It would be kind of awesome if we could all go through the type of experience those in the video did. Not really practical, but awesome.

Yesterday, in the midst of my messy mind stuff, I sent a friend who's also having a rough time right now a quick text image (credit for the quote/art, FYI, is unknown, so apologies to the originator).

It said this:

It's not a rating. But it's kind of like a rating. Because I meant it in the "you're so awesome I would give you a 10 every day if I could" way.

And on top of that, it made me laugh. And laughter, they say (whoever they are), is the best medicine. Tears help clean out an exhausted and depressed system. Laughter helps fill it back up with joy.

So for any of you out there having a day like I'm having a day, this image above is also for you. And for me. And for anyone who just happened to burn their popcorn today.

High-fives, awesomeness and 10s all around. May tomorrow be a better day.

(P.S. I have not read You Are a Badass, by Jen Sincero, as shown in the photo I took while in an airport bookstore recently, but I think perhaps I might.)

Sunday sadhana

To me, sadhana is a daily spiritual practice allowing time and space for an individual to turn inward.

As Yogi Bhajan (of the Kundalini yoga tradition) says, "Sadhana is self-enrichment. It is not something which is done to please somebody or to gain something. Sadhana is a personal process in which you bring out your best."

Sadhana could be taking a walk in nature, doing breath work or yoga asanas on a mat, spending time meditating or chanting, reading and reflecting on a poem, or simply watching the sun rise.

Please accept this post as a possible starting point for your own practice today, featuring part 1 of "Leaves," by Lloyd Schwartz.

Every October it becomes important, no, necessary to see the leaves turning, to be surrounded by leaves turning; it's not just the symbolism, to confront in the death of the year your death, one blazing farewell appearance, though the irony isn't lost on you that nature is most seductive when it's about to die, flaunting the dazzle of its incipient exit, an ending that at least so far the effects of human progress (pollution, acid rain) have not yet frightened you enough to make you believe is real; that is, you know this ending is a deception because of course nature is always renewing itself— the trees don't die, they just pretend, go out in style, and return in style: a new style.

"41 before 42" — five months in

I'm slowly inching up on my half-birthday. But for a little longer, I'm at five months and counting on my 41 before 42 birthday list. It's been an exciting and busy year. Notes added and italicized where I've started or completed an item. Read on.

• 41 Before 42 • 

1. Choreograph a country line dance (and see if Barb will teach it at Cowboys)
2. Plant and grow garlic — Gotta get on this over the next month.
3. Watch every episode of MASH — G's watching with me, and we've finished the first season. Just picked up the second season from the library.
4. Try aerial yoga and/or aerial silks — Done!
5. Plan my next trip to France (perhaps running a retreat at Little French Retreat)
6. Attend a Switchbacks match — Ugh. Missed out because I wasn't paying attention to the calendar. Next year!
7. Try kayaking — Done. Not just once, not just twice, but three times. Floated the James River in Virginia with Twin River Outfitters just last week.
8. Learn barista basics — Done! And I wrote a story about it too. Will post when it prints.
9. Plant flower bulbs this fall — Gotta get on this along with the garlic.
10. Take a birding and/or bird banding class — Pitched a story on this, so hoping for it to happen in early spring.
11. Continue to reduce my wardrobe, a la Project 333 — Progressing.
12. Take French language lessons
13. Read at least 75 books — Catching up! 28 books done, re-read one, and in progress on seven.
14. Take classes on how to use the manual functions on my DSLR camera — I'm actually looking at purchasing a new, much smaller and lighter camera to use on my travels, so this goal may shift some over the year.
15. Have at least one item of clothing tailored to fit
16. Learn to bake croissants
17. Get will and living will in order
18. Have a bouquet of flowers in the house, fresh once a month — Just bought a small mum plant for the kitchen. It's so cheery!
19. Attend a fest in Telluride — I had this on the calendar and then we had some family issues that meant I had to cancel. Perhaps in the spring...
20. Take performance driving lessons
21. Add a piece of original art to my collection from an artist I have not yet met
22. Stay up once all night until sunrise
23. Perform at a poetry slam/open mic
24. Learn to bake French macarons
25. Attend the Santa Fe Opera — Going, again, on the not-gonna-happen list. Missed the summer season. Sigh. Next year.
26. Be involved with a stage show in some way
27. Bake a fruit pie, with homemade crust, from scratch
28. Visit at least one new-to-me museum — Visited Taliesan West in Scottsdale. Absolutely beautiful. Also, visited the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe. Visited the Portland Museum of Art in Maine; Ministers Island in New Brunswick; the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21 in Halifax, Nova Scotia; the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax; and the Sherbrooke Village Museum in Nova Scotia. Also the Pinball Museum and the Taubman Museum of Art (photo above) in Roanoke, Virginia.
29. Watch one new-to-me movie and one classic film a month — Saw Pitch Perfect 2! (Laughed and cried.) Tomorrowland, and Mr. Holmes. Also watched Frances Ha. A little behind on this.
30. Play Settlers of Catan — Found friends who have the game and want to play.
31. Stay at the Beaumont Hotel in Ouray
32. Take an oracle card-making class — Took the awesome Inner Alchemy Fire Cards class, taught online by Mindy Tsonas.
33. Research and read more about walking the Camino de Santiago — Just picked up a few books and the movie, The Way.
34. Travel (again) with a girlfriend — Travelled to Santa Fe with two girlfriends. So much fun. Visited Brush Creek Ranch with another friend. 
35. Fly a kite
36. Send postcards to friends once a month just because — Doing.
37. Try fly fishing — Ah! Done! And loved.
38. Visit Shambhala Mountain Center
39. Do a Georgia O'Keeffe tour around New Mexico (Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, etc.)
40. Do a not-just-head-shot photo shoot (with Becky)
41. Get off my ass already and pitch the nun story to Oprah Magazine

Other accomplishments not on this list: Tried archery for the first time. Played paintball. Rode a horse. Stayed at a dude ranch. Learned to stand-up paddle board. Indoor rock-climbing weekly. Hiked a chunk of the Appalachian Trail.

What's on your to-do-that-you've-never-done list this month?

Sunday sadhana

To me, sadhana is a daily spiritual practice allowing time and space for an individual to turn inward.

As Yogi Bhajan (of the Kundalini yoga tradition) says, "Sadhana is self-enrichment. It is not something which is done to please somebody or to gain something. Sadhana is a personal process in which you bring out your best."

Sadhana could be taking a walk in nature, doing breath work or yoga asanas on a mat, spending time meditating or chanting, reading and reflecting on a poem, or simply watching the sun rise.

Please accept this post as a possible starting point for your own practice today, including, "When Death Comes," a poem by Mary Oliver, who celebrated her 80th birthday this past week.

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox;

when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything as a brotherhood and a sisterhood, and I look upon time as no more than an idea, and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth, tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.