It Only Takes A Smile

It’s easy to stay disciplined when one lives alone and has carved out time for their routines.  Yet, when one adds others to the picture and travel is involved, things can easily shift.   It’s important to remain compassionate towards oneself about what you can do.  So has been the case for me the past month, with travelling to multiple states in America, visiting friends and family, having friends visit me in Paris, and celebrating for days my 43^rd birthday. I love seeing those I adore, but it’s at time like these that my morning routine shifts.

         My usual morning discipline includes journaling (morning pages), gratitude, meditation, breathwork, reading a spiritual text, yoga, and more recently sound healing.  But this definitely is not always possible.  I know it’s grounding for me, and parts are necessary, at the same time I can forgive myself for not engaging in the entire process. 

         As one who is on the cusp of introversion and extroversion, it’s important to look at tiny moments I can ground and center myself.  This morning that includes whisking away to a local coffee shop to write this blog post.  Take my time with my latte, listen to music that is soothing to my soul, and slowing down my breath. Tiny moments of peace can extend you throughout the day.  

         What do you need to sooth your soul at this moment?  What actions can you take?  Take a step towards a moment of peace. 

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Creativity runs in my genes, but is expressed within different ways among each of us.  My mother is a fashionista, my brother is a designer, I’m transitioning to being a writer, and my aunt’s 10 year old daughter is a multi-faceted talent.  Most recently she received the Charlotte Miller Simon award for a poem she wrote for a classroom exercise.  It was then submitted to a local competition with hundreds of other submissions.  She came in first for her age group.  The poem is below, and tackles her experience of race in a personal way.

Roots by Jordyn Colbert

Shake, shake, shake the hairspray

Trying buns, bob cuts, and even bangs

Nothing’s working my hair’s too thick,

I don’t think YouTube tutorials will do the trick

Shake, shake, shake the hairspray once more,

Maybe the bob cut isn’t the look I’m going for

I browse and browse through the magazines,

None of these girls look like me

Shake, shake, shake the hairspray again,

Ugh! I’ll never get it right!  this will never end!

The ladies in the magazines are all white girls,

And nothing’s working for these crazy curls 

Shake, shake, shake the hairspray one more time,

If this doesn’t work it’ll be the end of the line

I straighten and style and all done let’s see,

Anything it takes to look like the girls on the magazine

Shake, shake, shake the hairspray but this time I won’t,

I put down the empty spray can and I feel a tightness in my throat

I look into the mirror then take another glance at the magazine,

Watching other light-skinned girls live out my dream

Mama walks in and comforts me,

“You are beautiful and you’re the best you’ll ever be” 

I hug my mama tight as I look into the mirror and smile,

I’m different, I’m dark, and I love my profile

Growing up in small town Ohio twenty years ago, race was minimally discussed.  Since the area was primarily Caucasian, few understood the dynamics of diversity.  They viewed racism as solely a black white issue, and didn’t think others could possibly be discriminatory towards me.  Others were ignorant of how acts of discrimination could arise.  A blind spot seemed to exist on how the world and community saw variations of the browns and other hues in between at that time. 

Jordyn expressed her struggle of being Filipina and Black, of not fitting into what America’s ideal of beauty is at the moment.  Although the media has allowed more variability of what constitutes beauty, many still feel they do not fit into the mold. I appreciate the boldness and authenticity Jordyn offered in her poem, and being able to be the voice for others to note and finally see her (and others’ experience). 

“…the whole of Paris is a vast university of Art, Literature and Music…it is worth anyone’s while to dally here for years. Paris is a seminar, a post-graduate course in Everything.”-James Thurber

         The market street of Rue Cler is petit, cute, and quintessentially Parisian.  It has all the shops you need in one space, but not under the roof of a supermarket.  Because it has such charm, it’s highly frequented by tourists.  As I hear American accents, part of me recognizes they are from my homeland.  But am I American?  I’ve lived away from America for nearly 9 years, and in addition to that 2 of my adult years were in Hawaii (not the mainland).  

         I stood in line for a coffee today, and as I did, there was an American who spoke Franglaise.  The barista opted to speak to her in English.  The American then said, “merci beaucoup, thank you.”  Both phrases to ensure the staff member understood her.  Yet when I ordered in French, I didn’t speak one word in English.  She responded by speaking to me in French.  Perhaps I am fitting in a tiny bit more than I thought.  Maybe my French is better, or at least I’m attempting to speak French in full sentences or I appear to fit in more?  

         I can’t help but ponder my identity several months into my year here.  It’s more than the exterior of language.  How American am I in my values?  How I represent myself to the world? How I engage with others.  It’s quite interesting the longer one is away from one’s home country, one begins to understand it more because it’s viewed and questioned from numerous angles.  I can also appreciate aspects of it that I have taken for granted, each time I return home, such as closet space, convenience, sense of humor, idioms, and the fact I can understand everything that is being said.

         The shock values is heightened with each trip back to America over the years, and then my eventual return to wherever I am living at the moment.  Where is home?  What resonates with me?  How do I want to live my life?  I will continue to ponder these questions over lattes the next several months…

Today, I was watching my two dogs, after I gave them dental bones.  These two dogs love one another and will cuddle all the time.  But when food is involved, it seems their personalities shift to “to each their own.”  These dental bones can take a long time to chew and are weekly rewards.  But each time I give them to the dogs, they approach the situation differently.

Puzo, the English Bulldog, is in his own world.  His focus solely is on the bone entering his mouth and nothing else.  Bella , the pug chihuahua mix, simply watches him and growls.  She is focused on the future, knows he will finish his first, and then go for hers.  Her preoccupation on him taking her bone, keeps her from enjoying the moment.  Puzo finishes his bone, and I am the one who then takes away Bella’s, as a fight will inevitably ensue.  

It led me to ponder, who are we when pleasure enters our lives?

Are we like Puzo, who lives in the moment and enjoys it for what it is? 

Or are we like Bella, limiting our pleasure, because we know the moment will end? 

How have you responded but also how do you want to respond?  You have a choice on how you want to enjoy your own metaphorical dental bone!

Enjoy present pleasures in such a way as not to injure future ones.- Seneca