Walking on Sunset Boulevard in Silverlake with a group of friends on Saturday, a stranger approached me and said “you need new shoes.” I was surprised at her comment. We had just finished a delightful meal at a local Thai establishment, after sharing our updated goals for the year and ways we would be accountable to each other. I opted to wear a pair of white sandals that were made by Minnesota Moccasin company, that had turquoise embellishments. These were sandals I loved in theory but I wasn’t ready to let go of them. I wanted to “wear them to the ground,” to know I got the full use out of them.
“They are not fitting right on you. You need new shoes. I need new shoes too.” My friends looked at her with a sense of curiosity in their faces, as she walked by. All were wondering was she was trying to sell me shoes? This was Sunset Boulevard after all. As she strolled by us, another woman began stating out loud with her dog “We are on Sunset on a Saturday night.” Was she livestreaming on a social media site? Nope, she was just in the midst of a psychotic episode.
As we reflected on both of these two women juxtaposed to each other, we walked up a little hill. A helicopter circled around us. My friend opened up her neighbor app, which stated an armed individual was nearby. We didn’t know what to do, keep walking, try to hide? “Another night in Los Angeles,” one of my friends shared. Was this a regular night? A stranger telling you to get new shoes, a psychotic woman, a helicopter police chase, armed gunmen, and processing goals for one’s life with friends at a delicious restaurant. Perhaps it was a typical day. It was a mixture of wonder, appreciation, fear, confusion, and joy. This is life in today’s world, and it was playing out in our small atmosphere.
“You need new shoes.” Despite all that happened, this was the comment that stayed with me for the rest of the weekend. Perhaps this woman was right. Why was I holding onto old shoes trying to get the most use out of them? The fact was the more I used these particular shoes, the less I could use all the other shoes in my closet. I had more than enough shoes, I didn’t need new ones, I just needed to get rid of these. And so later in the week, I did just that. I not only got rid of this particular pair of shoes, but three other ones that were waiting to be given away. I did it with pleasure, as I offered up space for me to see what I actually own and take joy in using my other belongings.
This stranger’s comment served as a current lesson in my life. How often do we take wisdom from strangers or a passerby’s comments? There are textures to conversations, interpretations we can make from metaphorical statements. I wasn’t just getting rid of shoes, I was getting rid of that which I have overgrown and that which doesn’t serve me. I was creating space in my life to welcome in the beauty that already exists.
For the past several years, my number one value was my dog Bella. Ever since my other dog Puzo died at 15 years, she was my priority. We spent two years living the retired life together in France and Spain. Bella accompanied me on my lap in cafes, bars, and the parks. When her legs and paws became tired, I carried her like a baby, to ensure she had prime sunshine on her face. In the past year, when I had to return to work, I purchased a condo five minutes from work in order to maximize time with her. My lunch breaks I rushed home to take her out, eat with her, and return home to go on leisurely walks on the beach, ports, or her the local pet shop. When I had dates or visited with friends, I often asked if Bella could accompany us. I included Bella wherever possible in numerous facets of my life.
And now she’s gone. Nearly 16 years to the day we found each other in a California park near sunset, she left this earth. I’ve been a pet mom for 18 years, placing their lives as my number one value as I navigated relationships, jobs, and moves. We moved back and forth to California several times, including extended time in Hawaii, the United Kingdom, Paris, and Spain. As I accepted work positions, there was no question if they would be with me. Their presence was a solid yes.
The question that arises now that her and Puzo are gone, is what are my values at this point? How will I make the choices in my life now that my fur companions are gone? What will be number one at this time in my life?
Oftentimes there’s a dramatic shift in our life that occurs: a death, relationship ending, graduation, health crisis, monumental birthday, or job loss. We are left with the question, now that this identity is no longer in my life, who am I? How do I want to be? And now the transformative journey begins… I have so much more to share about her impact in my life, but for now with this hole I am curious how to navigate the world without her?
It’s scary, exciting, and nerve wracking. The unknown. It’s life.
I woke up this morning having a dream that my mother and I had an argument about time. I felt she was wasting it, being slow in her movements, when we had a long road trip to get to. She is retired and luxuriates in time, I felt I didn’t have enough of it. In the dream, I wanted to rush her to and make the most of it.
This dream made sense at this particular moment, it was the evening the clocks sprung forward.
I woke up earlier than my roommates and was not clear of time. We were at a retreat center with limited cell service and wifi in the cabins. It was completely dark outside, I looked at my phone and wondered was it really 545 am? Would my cell phone change without service? Could I trust time, feeling as if I didn’t have enough?
But the truth is (at least for me on retreats) time stretches and expands while one is away from her everyday demands. And so what is time?
Time’s been on my mind, as I have clients in other countries at the moment, where the time does not change. The past week trying to coordinate schedules blew my mind, what time tomorrow would it be for them when we spoke today for me? As I reflect on time, I want a different job so I can have more time off, because as a full time salaried employee someone controls the amount of time I can use leisurely and who determines how my sick time shall be used, even if I want to focus more on wellness. I long for time abundance rather than time scarcity.
I woke up with a sore throat and thought to make better use of my morning. Instead of worrying about time, I would do something with it.
I opted to walk to the lounge area and have some tea, another retreat attendee noted how early I was up, and he was the same. He continued to compare this time, to time back home. Another woman asked for the time, and a man stated the time was near sunset. He didn’t know because he had pre-coffee brain. Time was on all of our minds.
At the moment, I could luxuriate in it. And I did
Initially as I walked towards the baths at 6ish I saw tiny paw prints on the staircase. I wasn’t sure what animal may be joining me in the open baths, would it just be me and a racoon? A human couple left the baths, I saw no racoons, and felt at ease as I slid into the thermal baths. At Esalen, the baths are clothing optional. In the darkness of the early day or evening, I do not mind being nude alone in the healing waters, listening to the ocean hit the rocks below. And here time felt expansive.
I sit in front of a tree overlooking a mountain, facing the direction of where the sun will be rising from, having a warm cup of coffee before yoga class begins. At another point of my busy life, I may say that I beat time. I was so productive before the sun said hello. But time is not a thing to be beat. It’s something to be in partnership with, flow with.
There’s a patter on the roof, I witness two racoons scoping out the landscape during their last moments of nocturnal activities. Slowly they creep and disappear into the tree that I am observing. Perhaps these were the racoons whose footprints I observed in the baths. Perhaps we are on the same schedule. They do not adhere to clocks and watches, but the movement of the sun and moon. Yet, here we are together making the most of the time we have today.
‘The overriding sense of Tokyo is that it is a city devoted to the new, sped up in a subtle but profound way: a postmodern science-fiction story set ten minutes in the future.’ ― David Rakoff
I am someone who yearns for a contemplative life. Last year I made a vow with a friend to not buy clothes or shoes for the entire year, and for the most part I kept to it. I was intentional with all I brought into my world.
And now Tokyo. Being here is overstimulation for all the senses. Shopping the streets of Harajuku, my inner 7 year old comes out. She’s longing for all things cute (here known as Kawaii) that she didn’t get. This includes Hello Kitty characters for my hair and feet. Jackets and shoes that have dainty ruffles on them, shoes that increase my height and look they are made out of bubble gum, and rainbow colored snacks that give you a sugar high simply looking at them. Cafes are filled with animals to cuddle with either to further feed the stimulation, or perhaps calm it down. I’ve seen not only puppy and cat cafes, but micropigs and hedgehog ones.
Last year’s restraint has been temporarily erased, as somehow I found myself purchasing four pairs of shoes in one day in Harajuku. I’m not sure what happened. I was under the spell of bright happy cotton candy colors that clouded my vision. The river of people were moving at an incessant speed. Instead of fighting the stream, we went with it.
It makes sense there are pockets of serenity intentionally placed throughout the city. Nostalgic jazz by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald softly plays as the backdrop in multiple cafes. It seems as if shrines have strategically been placed within parks to soften the volume Tokyo. All of these are necessary as one walks through the crowded streets of tourists and locals. It blows my mind that this city has 4 times the amount of people living in it than New York City does. And as I write this in a high rise hotel overlooking the streets and waterways of Tokyo, I’m appreciative of the current calm moment that is existing before another day begins.
My word of the year is “savor.” What I realize that to savor is not just the quiet moments that exist within nature and silence. Savor also is to take in the vibrancy of colors, joy, cuisine, curiosity, the fast pulse of city that vibrates at a different pace to one’s own. Savor the chaos, find stillness when one can, and know you have a choice how you want to flow when you return home. What will be integrated after the travels you’ve processed?
‘For those with restless, curious minds, fascinated by layer upon layer of things, flavours, tastes and customs, which we will never fully be able to understand, Tokyo is deliciously unknowable. I’m sure I could spend the rest of my life there, learn the language, and still die happily ignorant.’ – Anthony Bourdain
The other day as I sat for breakfast at my Okinawan hotel, I opted to wear my Strawberry Shortcake sweater. One of the staff members freaked out. She loved Strawberry Shortcake, remembering from her childhood. She spent half of it in Okinawa and half in America (specifically North Carolina), she recalled other favorite cartoons from that era: My Little Pony and Care Bears. I asked how old she was, she didn’t want to say, but admitted to be 46. “I am 45, we are the same.” I further went on to try to connect with other beloved animated characters from that era, which included He-man and his sister She-ra, and Jem.
What was interesting is I had just recently bought this sweater prior to coming to Japan. She showed me her water bottle, also Strawberry Shortcake, and an I phone case she made with the same image. She admitted as she got older, and her children aged, this was her time to embrace what she loved in her youth. It was interesting, because earlier in the week, I just purchased a Hello Kitty keychain and was debating to go into town to get a Hello Kitty hat and a Monchhichi purse, both paraphernalia for us 80s kids. But now I had validation, it was totally ok to get this. A kindred spirit was doing the same thing on the other side of the world. She deeply connected with Strawberry Shortcake, as it was not easily found in stores in Japan and was special to her experience. She had to search this out. Although Hello Kitty was universal, Monchhichi wasn’t. I was doing the same thing in Okinawa.
I opted to share with her the California Strawberry Festival which occurs annually near my current residence. The irony is one of her co-workers had a similar growing up experience. He was born in Okinawa, but moved to California when his mother remarried. He lived in nearby town to me for 15 years. I told her that her colleague was from the same area, and I showed her pictures of the strawberry attire people wore, the strawberry desserts that were served, and the cute crocheted Strawberry hat I bought. She immediately wrote it down to research later, and vowed she would go one day. I have no doubt in my mind that one day she will pilgrimage to this festival wearing Strawberry Shortcake attire. Travelling reminds us of diversity, but it also reminds us of the similarities we hold. And this week was evidence of that.
It didn’t start off as a pilgrimage. Initially I was going to have a relaxing day in town, and opt for the local spa. I heard there was an onsen (Japanese spa) that allowed one to have tattoos. I asked the front desk of my hotel to confirm this and if there was availability. The staff member queried how many tattoos I had. “Six” I replied, when really it was closer to 8. He asked the question, then shook his head, I was informed tattoos were allowed, but the cap was 2. I had been warned about hiding my tattoos in Japan, as it may be assumed I was part of a gang. I nodded my head, admitting slight frustration. Out of my mouth, the next question that arose “are there any bicycles left to borrow?” Yes, there were three currently for hotel guests to use. I had to go somewhere on my day off. I was going on an unexpected pilgrimage.
In recent days I had explored what was reasonably close to the hotel, and had noted within 2.5 miles was Futenma Shrine. This was a shrine built in the 1450s during the Ryuku era, and a US military base is located right next to it and a sacred cave underneath it. My knowledge about the shrine was limited, but I was determined to see shrine while in Okinawa. To walk to the Futenma Shrine would take nearly an hour, but one could reach it by bicycle in less than 20 minutes. Although I had a tiny cold, I opted for the bicycle route. How bad could 20 minutes be?
What I discovered was some of this route would be uphill, and the bike was a beach cruiser. There were no gears, and I am not a bicycle afficionado. And so the trek began. Once I got outside of the main streets of Chatan, nobody was riding bicycles and there were few pedestrians, as I bicycled and escorted by bicycle around the perimeter of Camp Foster. I gave myself verbal pep talks, that I could do this. I did the Camino, I got this, only one more mile to go. The projected 20 minute journey was closer to 40 minutes, as I followed google map’s route. It encouraged me to get off my bike and walk uphill on a side road, which was blocked off by flags. I circumvented this, and when I reached the top the plastic barrier was larger. I crawled under this with my bike.
A staff member said in Japanese to park my bike where I was. He probably also yelled at me for taking the side road that was covered with flags, discouraging entrance. I smiled wiped off the sweat, bowed, hoping he would forgive this unknowing American. My Japanese is minimal, but through motions we communicated. I began to walk towards the parking lot further uphill but was encouraged to go downhill to the entrance. I followed the crowd. This was a proper one day pilgrimage. Sweat and effort to go to a holy place, not knowing what to expect, reliance on others, and oftentimes language barriers.
Behold the beauty of the Shrine in front of me, but there was a separate area to the side where people were standing in line to purchase items. Was there an entrance fee? Was it souvenirs or offerings? I noticed people cleaning their hands with water in a beautiful trough. I followed what I saw. I opted to go into a room where people were waiting, everything was in Japanese. I was the only English speaker there. I asked a staff member if she spoke English, she did not but brought out another staff member. I knew there was a cave below, I queried how to get to this. “Write your name over there, wait, you will be escorted.” I followed orders, and within a minute was escorted in Japanese with three other people to the cave downstairs.
No photos were allowed in this sacred space. Although I longed to document this part of the journey, I didn’t want to disrespect the rules. Prior to entering in a single file line, the staff member bowed deeply. We each took our turns bowing to this sacred symbol, we walked further and then bowed to the cave. The staff member left us, and from what I understood we each had free time to wander the cave, pray, and be in this sacred space before the next scheduled group to arrive in 20 minutes. There were small coin offerings in little nooks, and a small mini shrine in the front. I always felt comfortable in caves, after living in Spain, and being able to visit them quite frequently. Caves with stalagmites seem to offer a living breathing holy space, where silence is encouraged in the midst of the dark corners. I admit I don’t know much about Shintoism. I noticed one woman kneeling and praying to the small altar. When she was complete, I followed suit. Internally I automatically I said the Hail Mary. I didn’t know how to worship in the confines of this religion, and therefore I thanked the world and universe for having this opportunity to visit, for who is in my life, and for life.
As my allotted time in the cave was ending, I explored what was upstairs. There was an area to pay 100 yen (less than $1) and receive a fortune, and one stash were in English. I paid the 100 yen and received an interesting fortune. As I peaked into the shrine, individual groups of families entered and had time with a staff member, who played the drums and repeated prayers for them. It seemed to be some type of honoring or blessing. As the other visitors stood outside, we each took turns giving an offering. One gives a small amount of money, bows and claps twice, then prays. I was familiar with this, as the week prior when going to the Cherry Blossom festival and climbing and visiting a small shrine in the mountain, we were taught to do this. One seemed to do this individually, with one’s partner, or as a family. Throughout the shrine, there were fortunes hung and left behind. If one doesn’t like the fortune you paid to receive, you could leave it there. I kept mine. It was too intriguing to leave behind.
I spent an hour at this shrine, and as I left there was a tiny drizzle. I mounted my bike and walked it down the blocked off side road (like a rebel), and headed back. Now the path was downhill, and the ride lasted 20 minutes. As I sat on my beach cruiser in the rain, I was pleased I pushed myself to visit this site. I smiled as I rod the path, and it was an interesting feeling this unexpected pilgrimage I took by myself. I barely spoke to anyone, as I do not speak Japanese, and had no friends or family with me. This was a memory that only I could recall in the future, as it was experienced only by me. Mental note made to remember this moment.
*I had researched afterwards the stories linked to this cave, to find out more check on the link below. The following paragraph is taken from the accompanying website:
Megami.
Initially, the first deity is a female by the name Megami. The legend goes that two sisters used to reside in the Syuri area, one being of immeasurable beauty. This was Megami, but she was also pious and devout, locking herself away and dedicating her time to spiritual pursuits. Her younger sister married, and the husband became curious of the legendary beauty. One day, he decided to sneak a peak at Megami, who caught him. She was horrified, and fled from the house in hysterics, disappearing into the caves of Futenma, never to be seen again. Since then, she has become a divine being of the cave.
Saturday Night Live has been a show I had always admired. A variety sketch comedy show with celebrity hosts, musical guests, political and social commentary, and humor that can connect a nation. Watching the show growing up was a way to connect with friends, love interests, family members, and colleagues. It blows my mind the talent that continues to hail from this show throughout the years.
Recently a film was released entitled Saturday Night about the first ever Saturday Night Live taping, and how it nearly lost it’s slot to a Johnny Carson rerun. The film follows creator Lorne Michaels and the unknown comedians that were going to change weekend television. We witness the chaos that ensues in trying to coral a group of rule breaking one liner comedians, writers, and staff before the first taping. One truly gets a sense of how much work from dozens of people that are needed to make a new show succeed, when the network expected it to fail.
As I watched the film, it reminded me how many groups of people embody a similar dynamic in their own work settings. Talent collaborating and joining together for a particular mission, despite the external naysayers who expect the worst from a group’s collective effort. This is true not just of comedians or actors, but of a front and back of the house staff at a Michelin restaurant, a Special Operations flying squadron and their maintenance crew, a psychological staff at a community mental health center, a surgical team ready to perform a difficult procedure, a spiritual retreat center holding space for retreat attendees, a fire department working overtime containing spread from a recent fire, or a group of teachers ready to start a new year. For a moment in time, these people join together for the purpose of serving others. All skills are needed, welcome, and are joined in unison.
Although I am sure the events that led to the first Saturday Night Live taping were erratic, insane, and chaotic, it can be appreciated afar. At a distance, we witness the orchestra conductor Lorne Michels hearing the notes of each of the musicians individually and collectively. There is a line in the film prior to the taping, where Gilda Radnor says to John Belushi “Do you have nostalgia for a moment when you are still in it? I mean like you are in the moment but you are also looking back on it, like right now I’m here right now, but I’m also thinking about this moment 20 years from when we’re walking by this ice rink. Maybe it’s Christmas, and our kids are dragging us by our pinkies, presents loaded on our shoulders, all we can think about is this moment right before we went on tv.” In the midst of big unifying moments, do we catch snapshots like this? Do we have nostalgia for a time as it is happening, knowing it cannot be replicated in the same way?
There’s a beauty with this film, it serves as a reminder of how we all need each other to pull difficult tasks off. We all play a role, nobody’s is more important than another. This film captures a day in the lives of people before they hit it big, their passion for the arts, avante garde thinking, rivalries, support, laughter, human struggle, and effort to bring this show onto air.
Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to meet some actors from SNL while living in Los Angeles. People I watched in my living room during my junior high years, I was able to share my atmosphere with, just for a moment. Although I lived on 49th street in New York City, the same street as NBC studios, I never did make it to a taping. Perhaps one day, I will walk on stage where the magic has happened for decades and creatives continue to push the boundaries in an effort to make the American audience temporarily reprieve from their everyday problems and laugh. But for now I can watch this film, and appreciate the guts, glory, courage, and faith it had to put the initial production on. And in the meantime, I can take Gilda Radnor’s words of advice and have nostalgia and savor the moments I am living in as they are occurring.
On a flight from LA to Tokyo, I finally watched the Pixar film UP. Generally, I am not one to love animated films, but my brother boasted about this and I had to see it. Ten minutes into the film, I knew the entirety of it would pull at my heart (or balloon) strings.
It’s with older age, I can appreciate the rich nature that the sentimentality of these films have to offer. There’s such a bittersweetness in watching this elder character carry out his hero’s journey. The storyline begins with two lead characters, Carl and Ellie, who meet in childhood bonding over their love for adventure and explorer Charles Muntz, whose life work was to venture and conquer the unknown in South America. Within a several minute montage, one witnesses Carl and Ellie’s love affair, marriage, home renovation, career, miscarriage, celebrations, and daily rituals. We witness the characters connect, dream, deal with setbacks, surprise one another, age into their retirement years, slow down, and eventually we reach her death. Since childhood, Ellie utilized techniques of manifestation to live an adventurous life, through speaking dreams into her reality, creating a book that served as a vision board, and painting out her future reality in South America. But life gave them setbacks, whether it be their finances, health, car problems, home repairs, or other mishaps. Ellie and Carl never did make it to South America, particularly to Paradise Falls as they envisioned they would have their home one day. The lead character Carl Fredricksen vowed to carry out Ellie’s dreams which were displayed in her Book of Adventure.
As the film progresses, Carl (who appears to be his 70s or 80s) is being pushed out of the home he had built with his wife, and forced into a retirement home. Yet within him still stirs a wild desire to live life more fully, and he is willing to put up creative fight. It’s the call to adventure. A threshold is crossed, obstacles arise. Sidekicks and villains appear as we navigate being in the belly of the whale. Transformation ensues and atonement, and he eventually returns home. The whole hero’s journey was exemplified in UP.
In our own lives, although we may set out goals for how we want to lives to go, our plans pivot for one reason or another. We may meet our heroes and are disappointed. We attain our dreams, and then realize we must let them go to allow our current life to unfold. Sentient beings enter our life in unexpected ways who may need our support. We are guided and taken care of, by mentors and surprising characters. There is a realization that caring for others sometimes must take precedence over our own egoic goals.
At one point in the film, Carl is reviewing his wife’s Book of Adventure, which he assumed just included images of their travel dreams. But as he allowed himself to look further, he found she had posted images of their happy daily life together, which was full of connection and laughter. At the end of the book, she signed a message to him “Thank you for the adventure, now go have an adventure of your own.” It was her blessing from beyond. Sometimes we are living with the ghost of who we once were, in trying to honor another we can constrict what is emerging in the current moment.
There is strength in letting go of what we once hoped to allow a new creative opportunity to flow. Tears streamed down my face as the film neared it’s ending. It was surprising how poignant the life lessons that were exemplified in a cartoon. Whenever we engage with a bittersweet piece of art, we cant help but reflect on how this impact our lives. Watching films such as this can be a contemplative practice, noting how it lands with us today, what emotions arise, and how do we want to direct the narrative of our own stories from this point forward. Films such as this can be catalyst to course correct one’s journey to live in alignment with one’s current authentic values, not those of the past.
My canine companion is turning 16 years old this month. Often after people ask me about her breed and name, I am quick to also respond with her age. As I mouth the words 16, often people are impressed. They may share how old their dogs are, or if they had an elder dog, share stories of the age their dogs lived to. And there’s a moment of connection, we bond over being parents of elderly dogs.
Over the past 2 ½ years, after Puzo (my English Bulldog) died of 15 years, Bella had a difficult time adjusting. Her whole time in this world included him being in it. It was then she began howling if I left the room, because she was alone with no one in her pack. At the time we were living in Paris, and as we both grieved his loss, we would walk two long blocks to the Eiffel Tower to seek comfort in the park and the spectacular beauty of this site.
She began going with me more on first dates, time with friends, mini vacations. We drove from France to Spain, as she sat in my mother’s lap for the entire 17 hour trip. Over time, her age began showing, she no longer could jump on the couch as she used to. She would tire on our walks, and so I would carry her. People ask me often why not take a stroller, but I think she enjoys lying like a baby in my arms, half asleep, taking in the sun.
Since moving back to America this year, Bella has surprised me. She has learned to swim, learned to play a new game with treats, and taken her first selfie. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Bella is proof.
(Bella’s First Selfie)
This week, I had leftovers from a New Years Eve meal: Filet Mignon. She devoured pieces of it over a span of three days. Today, my friend and I went to the fancy Rosewood Miramar in Montecito. I served Bella bits of cerviche. Yes, she is spoiled, but doesn’t a 16 year old deserve this?
Two women visiting from out of state chatted with us as we left the outdoor restaurant. They noticed the satisfaction in Bella’s face. My friend was quick to offer that Bella has had a good life, the best life. And I couldn’t agree more. 16 years ago I found her stray in Santa Barbara county, and she joined me as we moved to Hawaii, LA, England, Paris, Spain, and back to California. People often ask where did she enjoy the best, but where she loves most I realize is anywhere that I am with more time off, and moments to sleep in the sun.
With that I offer a Cheers to Bella- my 16 year old chug (or puguaua) bundle of joy. And if you have a dog too, cheers to your companion and witness to the journey of your life
“When you appreciate what you have, then you will receive more. When you are in this moment feeling gratitude for this moment you actually up your vibrational signal to attract more things to be grateful for.”-Joe Vitale
Oftentimes we think manifestation is simply visualizing what one wants, taking action, and awaiting results. We often forget that one component of manifestation is being grateful for what you already have. And in doing this, you receive more of that, your heightened vibration attracts other high vibration things and people. Often we want to jump to the next thing we are desiring, without taking in what is already in our lives.
This tendency we have as humans to move quickly to the next thing reminds me of the time when I lived in England, and tried to participate in the 3 Peak Challenge. The true nature of this challenge is one tries to climb the highest mountain in Scotland, England, and Wales in 24 hours. This includes travel time once arriving at the first mountain. The group I went with, we tried to complete this in 3 days versus 1. It was interesting to note the competitors who were invested in the spirit of the challenge. They were intent of rushing to get to the peak in as fast as possible, then the bottom of the mountain with as quick of speed. Although they were exponentially quick, their pace didn’t allow them space to take in the view. They wanted to get down to the next task at hand. In reality that day, my friends and I made it up and down 2/3 mountains, and chose the day in between as one of rest and leisure. That was more our speed, and in that we were able to explore the quaint little town we were staying in Wales.
I admit I am one who tries to prepare for the next accomplishment in my life. If I am in an undesirable situation in my life, I want to jump forward to the next best thing. Yet what the law of attraction teaches us is we must truly embrace our current reality before we manifest what is next.
This holiday season was going to be quiet for me. Spent cleaning, decluttering, as I had minimal time off. I was spending it focusing on how I want the next part of my life to go. My brother joked that I was being the Grinch. He invited me to his fiance’s family house on Christmas Eve and we spent Christmas with our dogs on the beach. He and his fiancé bought me a purse that I had my eye of for years. Receiving this was a form of manifestation. The Rive Gauche Yves Saint Laurent one, as each time I looked at it, it reminded me of my year in Paris residing on the Left Bank. He told me use the purse that day at the beach. I declined, as I didn’t want to get it dirty. I wanted to wait for a special occasion to premiere the purse. He reminded me that on a daily basis he wears nice luxury items just for himself, not for anyone else or any special occasion. “You need to wear nice things even if it’s just for you.”
And so today, as I sit in a local coffee shop, I am wearing my new purse. I am noticing how I manifested this into my life. At the same time, I am appreciating what I have right now. What I brought into my life at this current moment, taking this in before I jump into what’s next.
It Only Takes A Smile 