But I love photography and often forget that pictures tell stories too. Sometimes they tell better stories than words. I was looking through a book I bought M for photo ideas. Starting today my goal is take at least one picture every single day (and hopefully post it here!) This was my day today. Quiet, mundane, cozy, beautiful.
Day One: Cincinnati OH to Los Angeles CA … explored Beverly Hills, Hollywood overlook (to see the city and best view of the sign), Hollywood, Bel Air, El Segundo
Day Two: From LA we drove north then West to Highway 1 about an hour south of Big Sur. Explored Big Sur, Carmel by the Sea, Monterrey, Santa Cruz then drove on to San Francisco
Day Three: Explored San Francisco, landed in Sausalito for the evening then stayed in Oakland
Day Four: UC Berkeley and back down south … Malibu, Santa Monica, Venice Beach, Marina Del Rey, Inglewood
Day Five: LAX to CVG
For the last decade I’ve compartmentalized life. I was this and I was that. I did this and I did that. During my yoga teaching years, I led a double life. No, I wasn’t a spy and I didn’t cheat on my husband. I was a yoga teacher and I was also a digital media professional. The two ‘lives’ required very different skills. Constantly exercising right brain-left brain interchange was exhausting; I only hope it kept my mind young and pliable.
Now that I’m rarely teaching, life feels settled. There is less ‘reporter by day, superhero by night,’ except with respect to writing.
I write for work. I write for self. I write for others. Yet everything that comes out is all me. It’s a culmination of my thoughts, feelings, knowledge and life experience.
These days, I simply identify as a writer. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s who I’ve always been. Yet I continue to cling to the yoga teacher title. Am I upholding some grandiose sense of self importance? Do I feel that title sets me apart?
I haven’t taught in over a year and I don’t plan to anytime soon. My teaching is through writing, and I’m rarely writing about yoga. It’s part of me. It’s a lens in which I view the world, but there is so much more.
I am human and I write about being human. I have more questions than answers.
I am recognizing that this label doesn’t help me become more human. I am recognizing that labels divide and categorize, and while they can be useful, they can also cause detriment.
With all of that said, I now feel clear about where I should write for myself and for others. On the 19 started as a personal blog to ‘record life’ here. It will continue as that, possibly with as mundane of topics as “look at this beautiful tree.” I’ll be writing (and moving some of the writing I’ve done over the past month) to soul fabric. It’s been neglected and I developed it to specifically write about the human experience.
Life is about evaluating, evolving, shifting, moving, changing. I love the ride.
Speaking of mundane, normal life, enjoy this photo of dinner earlier this week: Teriyaki Salmon, Grilled 8 oz. Filet of Salmon served with our House Teriyaki Sauce Topped with Sesame Seeds; Austyn’s in Marietta, Ohio
“Creativity takes courage. ”
Writing Prompt: write an acrostic, a poem, word puzzle, or other composition in which certain letters in each line form a word or words
happy, whole, healthy, grateful, loving, kind: words i wish to use to describe me
except it’s not the whole truth: pain, shame, jealousy, revenge, spite. these ugly words represent as much.
all that is present is evolution; i’m
hiding. showing up. shrinking. shining. beaming. glowing. see what I did there? landing on the beauty? life is
ephemeral. impermanent. ever changing. flowing. moving. we express our aliveness by living in our truth, by being
Your turn. What kind of acrostic will you come up with using your name (or any other word you choose)?
“Journal writing is a voyage to the interior.”
I would not be the person I am without my journaling practice. It is the greatest act of self care I regularly participate in. Through it I’ve witnessed how draining sadness is AND how quickly it moves through. Sadness feels suffocating, like it will never end when we’re in the midst of it, but if we are able to watch our thoughts, maybe even learn to change them, the sadness fades and transforms into something else.
I’m a bit sad today. I’ve noticed patterns through my journaling practice. Mondays are often melancholy.
Today my focus is a relationship that needs great repair. I’m kinda making myself crazy trying to figure out how to make it right. For now I need to let it go.
My writing coach sent a prompt related to self care. She also sent this article which provides excellent tiny self care acts, things you can do in a few free minutes. I am partaking in some today.
Tiny Promises to Myself this Week (that I hope have big impact)
- This week I will attend to my mind by journaling each time I have a situation that’s making me upset, crazy, sad, mad or generally uneasy. I will breathe and let things go.
- This week I will attend to my body by moving in nature at least four days.
- This week I will attend to my spirit by centering myself each day: breath work, writing practice, gentle movement, spiritual reading.
Have a beautiful week all!
It’s Friday night; I’m home after a long day. I traveled to Holmes County today, ran work errands, caught up on email, then got things together for tomorrow’s event. I’m finally sitting down to write, sip wine, and enjoy the quiet. I stop, ponder the moment, marvel at how I got here without even noticing it.
I’m not referring to how I physically got here today. I’m talking about how I got here, in life. As I sit in a mostly noiseless house, I listen to the fridge hum and the dogs snore. I recognize that I’m in a totally different place than just five years ago — physically, mentally, spiritually. M was thirteen. We were busy all the time. And when we weren’t running for sports, school functions, and young teen hangouts, we were gathering with friends with kids in tow. Friday nights these days aren’t like they used to be. I don’t mind it, but there is some nostalgia and angst in looking back.
I’m settled. It feels nice. It occurs to me that I’m becoming my mom. I never thought I’d become her, and while I’m different in many ways, I never considered I’d be anything like her. (It’s not a bad thing. I just didn’t consider it.) I’m a homebody who prefers reading over most other activities, just like my mom. Maybe it’s that way for all of us. We don’t notice the way life moves, day by day. Suddenly we simply ‘arrive.’ Of course it’s been happening all along, but when life is busy, it’s hard to reflect. It’s hard to clearly see.
What happens next? Will I be more mindful in my middle years? Will I be more brave? I hope so. I think a lot about where I’ve been and where I’m going. This age has merit and context and, dare I say, wisdom? I look forward to my days. I don’t feel as though I’m going through the motions at all. I hope I never do. For now I believe I’ll enjoy this simple glass of Pinot Grigio in my quiet home, and bed before ten sounds amazing.
A fun little exercise provided by my writing coach, a life survey: rate self from 1 – 10 with 10 being highest, 1 needs lots of work. I liked this exercise. It made me think about things I don’t normally think about. How will I ever meet my goals if I never take personal inventory of where I am and where I want to go? Try it for yourself.
Creative Support System: 5
My husband fully supports my personal endeavors and I have more time than I used to but I don’t have writing friends, or even friends who read a lot. (I would love to start a book club to keep my reading on track too.)
Readings/Forums/Blogs/Podcasts that center on writing: 5
I have a few writing books I have read and am reading but need a lot more support in this area.
Daily Rhythm/Routine: 8
I write every single day, always for work, and I now accomplish my personal writing goals more consistently than I used to.
Physical Health: 7
I feel good most days. I still need to eat more veggies and exercise regularly. I move my body a lot but not as much as I should.
Social Life: 6
We have a circle of friends we can count on. I would like to meet more women that have similar interests as my own.
Professional Life: 8
I love my work. I am finally settling into a new rhythm. I want to grow professionally.
Family Life: 7
My family is small. Mostly it’s J & I home together, unless he’s traveling. M & I are well connected though I wish we spent more time together.
Time in nature: 9
We live in the middle of the woods. For this, I am truly grateful.
Reflection/Mindfulness/Spiritual Health: 9
My life centers around this.
Fun/Adventure/Trying New Things: 3
Outreach/Showing up for others: 7
I am here for my family and friends. I believe they know they can count on me.
Writing soothes my soul above all else. I want to start knitting again this winter.
Communication with Writing Coach: 7
I feel I am responsive. I read all communication and do many of the prompts. They keep me focused.
Commitment to current writing goals: 7
I am writing each day but I need to dive back in to my book; it’s nearly complete but lacks direction.
What is important to you? What must you do everyday? What is not currently a habit that you want to become one?
I have been wanting to establish an every day writing habit for years now and I’ve mostly succeeded. I purposefully write about five days per week, even more if you count work. But the purposeful, personal writing is the habit I’m interested in achieving. I want my writing to be an absolute part of me for the rest of my life.
Reading about writing, taking writing classes, talking to other writers, I seek to understand what it will take to make it happen. A few weeks ago I hired a writing coach; her daily check-ins keep me focused and provide direction.
I’ve learned over the years that if I want something to happen in my day, something that is non-essential to other people, I’ve gotta do it first. Mornings are sacred to me, ritualistic even, and my writing generally happens then.
Except when it doesn’t. Some days work has me up earlier than normal and at an event first thing. In those situations, my tea with honey and essential oils is the only sacredness I get.
My writing coach, Jen, says ten minutes a day. No matter what, carve out ten minutes in your day. If it’s usually mornings, go for it, but on those days when that’s not possible, commit to ten somewhere in the day.
Being a perfectionist makes life feel impossible. It’s really not a good thing. I write wanting the words to flow. That’s not how it works, at least not for me. The writing, the very act of it, is about getting words on the page (or screen), coherent or not. Editing is something else altogether. Editing shapes the words and sentences into something others might understand, and I guess that’s my dilemma. I not only want to write every day. I want to polish a piece for other people’s eyes.
After going through many years of not writing and feeling the difference between then and now, I want to keep a momentum. I want to write, edit and publish here each day. It’s my way of recording life. So much moves through. I want to watch it. I want to see growth. Now that my mom is gone and I have nothing left of her, writing is my commitment to my daughter. Ten minutes a day may not get me all three, but it will put me one step closer to my goal.
So whatever it is for you, writing, reading, being in nature, practicing yoga, playing an instrument, drawing, sitting in meditation, painting … commit to ten. It will become part of you, an essential part you’re not willing to part with.
Human behavior fascinates me. I’m surprised, baffled and appalled by the way people behave. Each of us is different; this I know, and it’s a good thing, but when I see people behaving badly, I’m unnerved.
I’m not perfect, far from it, but I do deeply care about TRYING to do the right thing.
I had a difficult situation this weekend and was faced with a choice — do what someone close to me wanted me to do that I didn’t want to do (knowing how I’d be treated), or protect my sanity by doing what I felt was right for me. I chose the latter and I’m glad I did. It didn’t save me altogether but I had more choice than I would have had otherwise.
The situation involved an official college visit for my daughter, welcoming her and her teammates for the first time, together, on campus. Her father would be there and while I didn’t know exactly what would go down, I knew there would be unpleasantness.
I was faced with a few uncomfortable situations. My dad and I were left out of a group (me, purposely; he by association), a group we were supposed to be included in for Maddie’s sake. I did nothing; there wasn’t anything I could do. Her dad facilitated the separation.
So while I prefer trying to get along, he chooses to make things harder than they have to be. I am truly baffled that he can’t let things go. Honestly I’m not sure what needs to be let go of; things with he and I just are. We have not been together for sixteen years of her life. Maddie is eighteen now.
Why is it so hard? Why can’t he suck it up for her? I feel like he makes it about him, but I’m not him so I don’t know. I simply can’t understand and I struggle because of it. I thought life would soften throughout the years. Instead the edges feel sharper than they used to. My heart breaks because I know she wants her parents to get along. I want that for her too.
“The only person’s behavior I can control is my own” becomes my mantra.
I almost didn’t write this post for fear of who might read it, but it’s truth, and what is writing if not truth telling? It helps me make sense of life. And now that it’s been written, I must let it go. Allowing myself to relive negative situations deprives me of energy and sanity. Once is enough.
. . .
We are all doing the best we know how. Yes, even people whose behavior we can’t make sense of. We are all different. We cannot possibly understand another person’s motives and we shouldn’t try.
. . .
As always, I choose to do the right thing for the sake of doing the right thing. There’s a voice inside of me, beckoning me to do so. I recognize it as my mom’s. The difference, however, is that she did the right thing forsaking herself. I cannot, will not, give that much of me.
I will do the right thing because I feel better for it, but not at my own expense. In this situation, letting go is the only resolve. If I keep replaying it, I’m the one who hurts. I may not ‘win’, but that’s not the point anyway. In the grand scheme of things, there aren’t winners and losers. Life isn’t black and white.
. . . a writer, blogger and yoga teacher (who rarely teaches in the traditional sense anymore). Also a softball mom, happy wife and flawed human doing the best I can. I love books, stationary, hot tea, wine, essential oils, quiet mornings, playing outside and many other simple things in life.
Life changes all the time. It’s the only constant. Beautiful, mundane, joyful, awful, insightful, random, the way things move through; my practice here is of ‘recording life.’ The name of this blog, on the 19, is where we live. Find more meaningful writing on soul fabric and Medium.