Pink of Perfection

I think a lot about the creative process: how there are sparks of ideas and bursts of activity followed by periods of inaction. That period of inertia is what always drove me mad. What are we doing if not getting better and moving forward? Something important, it turns out. Like a field that’s given up its harvest, we’re lying fallow: rejuvenating, gathering reserves, collecting our energy for the next big burst.

This, I think, is what is so sweet about winter. When the world slows down, as it naturally does this time of year, we can take the time we need to prepare ourselves for our next surge of growth–whatever that may be. And so we stay close to home, write in our journals, practice yoga, linger over our coffee, and take the time we need to reflect. Its not laziness and it’s not inaction; it’s the practice of shoring up, and equipping ourselves with the care, thought, and ideas for whatever comes next.

In Chinese Medicine, winter is associated with the element water. Water is “the stage of energy before structure; it is potential,” writes Lorena Monda. “To access this phase of transformation, we must create space and quiet within us to mindfully look and listen. We direct this deep looking and listening to the world inside and around us. It is here that we begin to know what we want or what is necessary. It is here that we set our intention.” Continue reading “Winter Wellness Guide” »

After my usual holiday over-doing it, It feels good to board the healthy eating bandwagon. And while it’s probably not the best habit to bounce from extremes (steak, bourbon, gravy to kale, green tea, soup), it does make me very eager for the change. I was stuffed with cookies and cheese; it felt good to alter course.

And perhaps a little surprisingly, it tasted delicious. After my brother-in-law sent me a link to My New Roots, I started seeing this vibrant Danish blog mentioned everywhere. She designed the recipes below, and they’re wonderful.

One of the recurring questions among my friends is, “Why is it so hard to do what’s good for you?” Cause lord knows it usually is. But there’s also a kind of snowball effect once you get going with decisions that affect your well-being. When you feel good, you want to keep feeling good. You begin to even crave the habits that make you feel bright, content, and fluid.

Here’s an example: I spent this past weekend in the first part of an Anusara yoga immersion. Going in, I was a bit terrified of what six hours of yoga two days in a row would feel like. I should have been more concerned about returning to my desk Monday morning and sitting in a chair for eight hours. Come evening, I’d usually rather watch another rerun of Roseanne than put on yoga pants right before bed. But on Monday evening a few pre-bedtime twists was the right choice for me.

The ultimate challenge, I think, is getting from feeling bad, mired in habits, depressed, whatever the current stuckness may be, to finding a spark that can spur a new kind of decision. Many of us tend to force ourselves out of it, but a friend of mine takes a more gentle approach. A change can start with the smallest choice, she says, and we’ll bring it on when we’re ready. I find that comforting. We don’t need to strong arm ourselves into new habits or new eras; it’s not a matter of force, it’s a matter of ease. And when we’re ready we’ll know it. I read a section in a book last night on receptivity that seems fitting:

Receptivity is a practice many people find difficult, because we live in a culture that says things are accomplished primarily through doing. This attitude creates a bias toward knowing, planning, taking action, a kind of predatory attitude toward life––where we decide what we want, focus on it, and go for it at all costs. But how many of us have done this only to be dissatisfied with what we get?  ––The Practice of Wholeness

Being receptive seems to fit beautifully with back to basics and leaning into the life we have now: being open to ourselves, our thoughts, our sense of whimsy, being open to the world around us and the people and obstacles we meet each day, and being open to every joy, quirk, and marvel in the moment to moment moment of the everyday. “We may experience a sense of magic or serendipity––wherein events happen which fit our needs perfectly. Seemingly remarkable coincidences [...] are the result of our receptivity.”

And so back to feeling good, and specifically these recipes. Please, dear heavens, don’t see these dishes or this post as an admonition. If anything, it’s an invitation to be receptive to where you are, wherever you are, right now. If they recipes appeal to your senses at this moment in time, I promise they’re both really lovely. And no one’s saying you can’t eat a little kale slaw before a nice steak, either.

Continue reading “Detox Recipes That Taste Really Good” »

It is hard to come back after vacation, isn’t it? To see those free, expansive days end is a kind of cruelty. But I came back to our little apartment after a holiday break, happy to be home. Even with the Christmas tree still standing and brittle and our suitcases strewn on the floor in the living room and bedroom, unpacked. Even with no milk or clean towels, it still feels merry kind of merry in here, if in a cluttered, post-holiday kind of way.

I’ve eased into the week trying to hold on to “quiet mind.” It’s a feeling that comes on for me during vacations or on any extended periods away from the computer or even after yoga. I’m able to focus without thoughts darting every which way. I feel relaxed. You know that feeling? Hanging on to it is the catch.

There’s so much wonderful reflecting and goal-setting happening on the internet right now. On the one hand, it’s inspiring to see, and a kick in the pants for those of us who need it. On the other, it can make a lady feel a little inadequate. I didn’t know what I wanted my 2012 to be “about.” I didn’t have a theme or a goal or a resolution or a project. And that feeling of not having something to strive for in the new year turned into a gnawing anxiety. The new year was coming: what was my plan?

Continue reading “Back to Basics” »

You know when you’re cruising along, feeling holiday, slicing through life like that proverbial knife through the butter, and then wham-o: Stress City? I knew the other shoe had to drop: the sun had been shining for days and days, I was in an unflappable mood, and the tone at home was cheerful and almost annoyingly upbeat. And then this week came along.

On Wednesday I dropped into a nearby coffee shop for fifteen minutes before work just to sit by myself. I scribbled down the things that were weighing on me––some bills that needed paying, a meeting I needed to prepare for––and then still felt that jittery cast of negativity and anxiety. I believe it goes by the common name of stress.

So then I tried to write down a few quick ideas of what would help ease that. The solutions weren’t anything new (exercise, eat healthy food, read an uplifting blog), but I felt a little better for making the list. (And nothing, by the by, seemed quite as helpful as the old-fashioned I drank in a bubble bath that night while reading Barbara Pym.)

Continue reading “How Do You Deal With Stress?” »

When I first moved to New York, a friend set me up on a lunch date with a woman who had the kind of career I could only dream about. We met in a leafy spot in Bryant Park. She made her red miniskirt look like the natural, obvious choice for an esteemed intellectual: completely right. I was so nervous I could barely eat; she ordered chicken skewers and a bit of dipping sauce dripped on her chin. It was like having lunch with Nigella Lawson: frighteningly intelligent, head-spinningly sensuous, and totally at ease with her body and her power. I thought she was rad.

She was also very realistic. Here was a woman with a top-of-the-heap creative job, but there were limits: “I can write and have a boyfriend, or I can edit and write,” she said, “but I can’t write and edit and have a boyfriend.”

I thought of that lunch when I saw this silly pin on Pinterest. On the one hand, it plays into all the expectations of that maddening I-don’t-know-how-she-does-it illusion. It makes me angry that’s even the expectation.

On the other hand, it’s pretty funny.

I was quick to feel like my life was a little soulless this week: I had a killer day at work on Monday, and then still managed to make dinner and go to my crazy suspended-from-the-wall strength training class. I should have felt like I was kicking ass and taking names. Instead I felt overly busy and empty. So what gave? Work, write, exercise, clean, cook––If you can only choose two any give day, maybe I was picking the wrong two. Because the thing that makes me feel most grounded, connected, and inspired is checking in here. And the days since I’ve done that have been too many.

Does the idea of only picking two priorities a day kind of send you into a panic? For some reason, putting a limit on what I can do each day feels strangely liberating. Going to the dry cleaner? That’s not happening. Cleaning out the closet? Nope. Having to look hard and choose helps me really zero in on what matters. Some days, it’s cooking and listening to Conway and Loretta while I chop onions. Other days it’s picking up a rotisserie chicken and a salad so that I have more time to do whatever else feels more important.

The list of responsibilities and to dos grows long fast. And sometimes life gets busy and we have to buck up and take care of business. But that’s different from doing it all for the sake of doing it all, all of the time. How many of us feel worse off for the constantly trying and failing?

Me, for one. There are women made of hardier stuff who can keep going and going (and going), checking off items on a list a mile long. I admire them greatly. But I’m not one of them. That kind of busyness puts me in a frenzy: it makes me feel scattered and uncentered. And to what end? Why––and for whom––would I be doing all of that exactly?

How can we duck out of the expectations it’s all so easy to buy into, and check in with our own values and needs? What really matters to us? I guess it’s all about taking things off auto-pilot, which we end up talking about here a lot. How can we keep being present in the everyday, in a way that really means something to us?

For me at least, it might be a matter of keeping things simple: Take work off the list, and then choose two: see a friend, do the laundry, cook dinner, exercise, write. Choose two. Everyday this week that’s been my mantra. It makes it clear pretty fast what’s needed, what matters, and what will really make the day feel worthwhile.

So this is what I’ve been thinking about for my weekday life, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. But I also realize it’s Friday, and you’ve got weekend baking and sexy cocktails on the brain. So on that front, Aretha is in order. Also, feathers:

Happy weekend, friends!

Photo by sweetblue on etsy

My husband and I just celebrated our two year wedding anniversary. We were pretty giddy and corny about it, so much happier on that day in October than we’d been last year, and we tried to figure out why. First, there’s that fact that everyone says the first year of marriage is very hard. They start telling you that as soon as you arrive home from your honeymoon. It’s a very warm welcome back to reality.

But we also gave some credit to a piece of paper that’s been hanging on our refrigerator since January. It’s written on a piece of Elvis stationary my college roommate brought back from Graceland, and it has a faded tomato sauce stain of on it (a memento of the spaghetti and meatballs we ate as we composed it). On it are more than a dozen things we wanted to do in the new year. Written at the top is, “The 2011 Wish List of Terrificness.” (That was my handiwork.)

We’re kind of big on lists, traditions, and superstitions in our house, so having a list like this was nothing new. There was the year I drew an elaborate picture at the bottom of a list envisioning my look for the new year: I had short curly hair and was wearing cowboy boots. I didn’t cut my hair that year, and I didn’t buy cowboy boots either.

We got serious about our recreating in 2011. And so we went camping––sort of––even when we couldn’t secure a campsite in a state park over a long holiday weekend. We drove right up to my mom and stepdad’s house with a tent, my cast iron pan, a bag of taco Doritos, and made a campfire in the backyard. I’m not going to lie to you: It felt utterly absurd and embarrassing to me at the time. Why can’t we do anything the right way, like, for real? But that feeling passed as soon as we started having fun: cooking the most amazing campfire eggplant, going inside to brush our teeth and waking up to the sound of birds signing. We called it our trial run, and took notes on what we’d need for next time. (Flashlights, bug spray, more Doritos.)

It was also the summer I finally took the swimming lessons I’d been talking about for years. I had taken lessons as a tot years ago, but my skills had dwindled. I wanted to swim in the ocean, strong and unafraid, like Katharine Hepburn out in cold waves of Long Island Sound into her 80s. So on hot muggy nights, after putting in a day of work that left me feeling knotty and spent, I’d walk to the windowless basement pool at the Y and slip into the water. After an hour of paddling around, I’d slip my sundress back over my head and walk home in my wet swimsuit, hungry, exhausted, cooled to my core, and happy.

Then, on a lark, I bought a cheap guitar just so I could sing my favorite country songs. I looked up chords to my favorite Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline songs and slowly strummed through them. I am not very good, but I enjoy it anyway. Sebastian bought a keyboard, and then a ukulele, and before we knew it, we were having evening jam sessions. We carried the ukulele to a dinner party recently where after chicken and waffles another guest brought out a packet of song lyrics and chords, swung a guitar onto his lap, and we all did our part to sing, strum, and harmonize into the wee hours.

I spend my days talking, listening, reading, and writing, and I realized something both of my new past times had in common: they were blessedly nonverbal. Underwater, the volume of the world gets turned way down, and my mind got quiet; struggling to land my fingers on the right spot of the guitar neck took all my concentration.

The difficulty of dipping our toes into new ways of having fun is, of course, the humiliation of being a newbie. By the time we reach adulthood, most of us have pinpointed our favorite ways to recreate, and we’re good at them: you’ve got a mental catalog of obscure ’90s rock, a flair for crafting cocktails, the speediest knitting hands, a strong, unstoppable run that can go for miles on country roads. But usually to be new at something is to not be good at it. To fumble with the chords, and gasp for breath in slow lane at the pool doesn’t feel especially cool. But there’s something to be said for that part of the fun, too. We may be hooked on perfectionism in our regular adult lives, but with what’s new we have to practice. It feels awkward at first, and humbling when you’re the type who likes to feel good at things (and who doesn’t?). But isn’t there also something liberating about just giving it a try, shrugging your shoulders, and keeping on, just for the fun of it?

So I’m collecting new ways to have fun: What gives you a thrill and makes you smile? What’s the newest just-for-the-sheer-joy-of-it habit you’ve picked up? What were you doing when you last lost all track of time?

A public service announcement for a Monday:

Somewhere in this week, with its meetings, bills, laundry, commuting, dish-washing, bed-making, hair-washing, shoe-trying, flossing, et cetera, find sometime to treat yo’ self. Fine leather goods and massages work, but so too does a yoga class, baking something from scratch, or finding the perfect fall novel.

Someday, if I am lucky enough to have a houseful of kids and soccer practice to take them to, I will look back at my current Saturday morning routine and have a rip-roaring laugh. Here’s how it goes: I like to drink a cup of coffee in bed, read a bit, and give myself a tarot reading. It’s a morning tradition that can take upwards of two long, lazy hours. And then I ask my husband where he’s taking me for lunch, and look at that––it’s 3pm.

(Now, a word on the tarot for anyone who might want to hear it: I don’t think of it as some predictive, lady-with-a-crystal-ball-and-a-head-scarf hokum. It’s more like reading a really rich, wonderful piece of literature (although any formalist professor of mine would probably die to hear me say this): there are themes in the cards, and the way you choose to interpret and reflect on those themes creates a meaningful story. In other words, you make the meaning.)

In any case, the cards painted a picture in their yellows and reds that I was happy to see. It was a story of assessment and survey that I thought was worth sharing with a thoughtful, reflective bunch. In short form, we have made it halfway through the year: how are you doing?

There are two parts to the mid-year check-in as I see it: How are you doing with those goals you made seven months ago? (Oh, how they can be embarrassing to revisit, I know.) Do they need a little more attention? But perhaps more importantly, how are you moving through this year? How does it feel to be you alive at this moment? Are your actions matching up with what you care about? Are you embodying whatever word resonated with you?

I, for one, needed the reminder. When we’re intently focused on taking the next step, we forget to lift our eyes to the horizon and survey the landscape. We can get so caught up in walking a straight path that we forget to even check-in with ourselves: Do I even like this walk? Am I tired? Do I need a sip of water and some trail mix? Or am I fully caught up in the flow? It gives us the chance to ease what might not feel right or to apply more passion to what we’ve let slip.

One thing I know: I’m not writing here enough, and it breaks my heart. I needed the reminder that I was in control of that, and so my alarm got set a little earlier. (Though I’m still never this happy to wake up.)

What I needed was a long pause, time to sit on a rock with my sunglasses and a canteen and look at where I’ve gotten myself. I’m not even sure if the route needs adjustment yet, but I do know that I’d like to take the time to survey the view.

Do you have a tradition of stopping to reflect like this? How do you create that time and space for yourself? And what adjustments have you made after taking the long view?