It Only Takes A Smile

“Signs and symbols rule the world, not rules nor laws.”-Confucius

Since I have begun the process of the artist way, I have reignited my interest in signs. A homework exercise given each week is to look for moments of synchronicity. This is something I did with ease as a teenager, but my busy mind has kept me from seeing and experiencing what is in front of me.

Recently, while waiting to enter a yoga class as an attendee, I opened my yoga bag to find a glass Frappuccino bottle. I quietly tried to shift it to my purse, and upon doing so glass shattered everywhere. Since the class was about to begin, all other classmates witnessed this embarrassing event. Superstitions tell me breaking a mirror is bad luck, but don’t Greeks slam plates and glasses on the floor as they dance in celebration? As I researched this online, breaking a glass bottle in public indicates success (as long as nobody gets hurt).

Last week at 4:00 am before work, I walked the dogs. For some reason they extended their morning walk to twenty minutes. As I waked under the trees of the darkened morning, I felt a splatter on my hair. I touched the back of my head, and smelled my fingers. Yes, it was pure bird poop. This is only the second time this has happened in my life. Those that I shared this with reminded me that this equates with good luck, perhaps financial wealth entering my life. I will take that perception, versus viewing the dire consequences of cleaning out excrement from my hair.

Upon finishing our meal at an Asian restaurant last week, I was given this fortune in the image above. Intuition remained in the forefront of my mind. It seemed to be the theme in the yoga class I attended, as the teacher at the end of class placed her fingertips on my 6th chakra. This is also known as the third eye, the seed of intuition.

As I continue to delve deeper into the ending of this book, my awareness to the moment is deepening. I am trying to observe the signs that are arising, instead of simply looking at my phone. Am I making out these signs to force synchronicity to arise in my life or is it really there?

There are so many ways to look at the daily happenings that arise in our lives. We can choose to take everything that happens to us on face value, without any analysis or reflection. Bird poop is bird poop. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or we can try to start to look at the events that unravel in our monotonous lives with wonder. Perhaps we can dissect it as we would an independent film. What is the meaning that underlies this? What is the theme that is being threaded through the narrative? Who are the characters that appear? What is being foreshadowed?

I chose to believe that there is a higher power in this world that slowly reveals the magic in our lives. I will leave you with an awe inspiring quote from Joseph Campbell from his interview with Bill Moyers on the Power of Myth:

“Schopenhauer suggests that just as your dreams are composed by an aspect of yourself of which your consciousness is unaware, so, too, your whole life is composed by the will within you. And just as people whom you will have met apparently by mere chance became leading agents in the structuring of your life, so, too, will you have served unknowingly as an agent, giving meaning to the lives of others. The whole thing gears together like one big symphony, with everything unconsciously structuring everything else. And Schopenhauer concludes that it is as though our lives were the features of the one great dream of a single dreamer in which all the dream characters dream, too; so that everything links to everything else, moved by the one will to life which is the universal will in nature.”

Last week was my first ever formal dance recital at the age of 39! I have done talent shows, taken dance classes, and gone to dances but never performed on a stage in front of a paid audience. And I must say it is more about the journey than the end result.

For weeks we have practiced our alegrias flamenco routine. Some had more discipline than others, attending 2-3 rehearsals per week. This is for a 70 second dance! I am amazed by all the time spent dissecting the moves and facial expressions. We tried to perfect how to slow moves down, to speed it up, simplify the steps for those who were new to the class.

We were told to be at rehearsal today at 3pm for a 730 on show start. My beginners flamenco group didn’t go on until 9pm. There were 100 flamenco dancers, from young children to older women. My fellow flamenco cohort realised moves weren’t sharp enough. We practiced again and again, without music and numerous distractions. We finally moved as one entity. We were ready for the performance.

Show time came. Some were nervous , others were ready to get it over with. We all drank some type of alcohol two hours before to bond and prepare for the evening. The dance initially started off so well. We were in sync and moving as one as rehearsed. But then the unexpected happened. The live musicians accompanying us decided to freestyle a little too much and cut out several counts of our song, completely confusing us. We were doing so well. But we had no choice but to go with it.

The performance was over before we could process it. What just happened? All those hours of rehearsal and waiting around were for what? The musicians shifted it and this is what our performance was. There was no second performance scheduled. This was it, and now it was over. We could be embarrassed and ashamed with ourselves for looking like fools for the audience. Another option was to get mad at the musicians who truly seemed to mess that song up. We could quickly forget about it, and move on to the rest of the night’s adventures. Or we could take pride in what was just accomplished. I settled on a combination of all four emotions.

Our teacher, who was performing herself throughout the evening, reminded us that this is what happens during live performances. Certain things are out of your control. You may mess up, and it’s okay.

For many of us it was our first ever dance performance. But flamenco is a style of dance you don’t comprehend quickly. It takes years of experience to master this complicated dance look

simple. It has the percussions of tap dance, the gentle hand movements of hula, serious face of a soap opera actor, hip movements of belly dancers, rhythm at times of salsa, and the beauty in posing as ballerinas. Throw in singers, guitar players, and percussionists and this is a complex moving symphony.

I could give up on flamenco. This would be easy. But there is too much longing to want to improve. I watched those with years of experience rehearsing, and I could feel their passion in my body. I remembered how Elizabeth Gilbert once said that when people shout “ole” it stems from “allah”, meaning I see God in you.

The evening of our disappointing performance, I had a beautiful dream where dance was center stage. It was as if it was a wedding, but the host was dance. I woke up feeling joyous, moved, and awestruck. The excitement of performing lingered in my bones and unconscious. I vow to continue to have dance be a central part of my life on some capacity. We are never too old to harness a call to “ole.”

“A photographer gets people to pose for him. A yoga instructor gets people to pose for themselves.”

–T. Guillemets

I have been teaching yoga for five years at my place of employment. It’s not a full time job, or something I make in addition to my income. I have incorporated it into my regular 40 hour work week. I feel so grateful to be able to share yoga with hundreds of people over the years, many of them for the first time. I have never wanted to become a full time yoga teacher, but feel it’s an amazing supplement to being a psychologist.

Earlier this week, someone who has attended my classes on and off over the years, mentioned it’s become harder. I wondered aloud has her body changed, has her workouts changed? Am I teaching differently? We agreed that I am. With assisting a wide variety of people, bodies, and limitations, I can’t help but think I have shifted in how I instruct. In the beginning I was quite earnest to ensure my classes were overly creative with themes, doing elaborate poses, or putting together an intriguing sequence. But what I have been doing is trying to simplify. Hold the poses longer. Utilize yin postures and principles. I will physically adjust with a more keen eye. I have let go of the script, and observed who is in the room more frequently. I’ve stopped trying to replicate bring other instructors I love, and have embraced being myself.

I also have attempted teaching chautaranga in the class finally this week. I had done this once, but only with someone available to demonstrate for me. Although I have taught crow pose and cannot completely conquer it yet, I know many of my students can do it. First time yogis who are strong young men may struggle with flexibility but love when I add crow to the class. They surprise themselves with this pose. I will instruct people to do a “push up” to the floor, but this week I challenged myself to demonstrate (even though I tend to fall to the ground). This strength came from was being a student this past week. The instructor encouraged me to continue to try chautaranga , “you can do it,” she said. I fell down and laughed at myself. She nudged me to keep trying despite the fact I may fall. How else will I learn?

Today with this one particular group who solely want the class for stretching, I added a small “namaste” at the end of our class. This person mentioned he liked the physical aspect of yoga more than the spiritual. They teased me that I may enjoy the spiritual too much. I am careful with this weekly group to not add talk on chakras, have an altar, or discuss other words in Sanskrit. I did tell them that many people today come to yoga for the physical aspect, but are eventually drawn to the spiritual. I noticed when I had done a namaste with hands to the forehead and then ground, one particular person lingered there. I feel it was appreciated more than it was verbally expressed.

My classes vary in attendance and attendees over the years, with the constant fluctuation of the population I work with. Therefore I have learned to not teach more than what they are ready for. But how can one not integrate yoga with spirituality ? From an instructor’s perspective, even if one does not voice a word about this domain, it can exude in a classroom setting.

First, there is intentionality. Whether the class sets a sankalpa (intention), or the instructor does, it remains a focal point. Secondly, all participants must be physically and mentally present in the class to stay in the poses. In reality, yoga was created to prepare the body for meditation. One needs of flow and transition mindfully throughout the postures to ensure self care. The yogic principles of honoring where your body is today is always highlighted, reminding ourselves to remove judgement and comparison from our minds. Additionally, the entire class is moving and breathing together. We are creating the moment, no class is exactly the same. What is being worshipped is this moment and breath. Finally, a sense of community and trust is silently built to respect each other and what is shared in the class. Trust is heightened as students allow physical adjustments to be made by the instructor.

We may have differing opinions of what spirituality consists of, but I cannot separate yoga from a form of spiritual practice. I have observed my yogic journey (parallel to my spiritual journey) is not something that has a peak or ending point. It’s constantly morphing. There are periods where I may be more devoted and disciplined than others. Moments exist where I am the student or facilitator. Sometimes I may be both. There is always more to learn and ways to grow. Spiritual practice and yoga is not something you learned and practiced before, it’s in the present moment. Jack Kornfield quotes a lama in his book After the Ecstasy, the Laundry, “I realized I couldn’t live in some enlightened memory. What became clear is that spiritual practice is only what you’re doing now. Anything else is fantasy.”

“And then there is the most dangerous risk of all — the risk of spending your life not doing what you want on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later.” – Randy Komisar

As I dropped off my dogs the other day to their sitter, she asked me how long my holiday to the Canary Islands was for . I told her five days, which for me is longer than usual. She was astonished I would travel this far for a brief amount of time. I informed her Americans allotted vacation time is generally quite shorter than Europeans. We average 2-3 weeks per year, which sometimes include sick days. They easily get at minimum five weeks plus unlimited sick days.

There are so many ways to vacation. Overly plan and be touristy. Sleep in an air conditioned hotel (this is a luxury because it is not always standard in the UK). Adventure to old ruins. You can tan , work out, try new sports, retreat and read. Cross off countries from your bucket list. When the word vacation is said, different images come to our heads. There’s beauty in that. We need different vacations at various times in our lives.

I have been so lucky to have lived in Europe the past five years. At this point, Each time I return to Spain, I feel more at home. Perhaps because I can pass as a Spaniard , or even speak a little of the language. Regardless where in the country I am or what island I am on, it just feels right. This is my 16th time in Spain. I just counted. It’s probably past the point of counting. It should be my second home.

We vacation in a myriad of ways, but sometimes you want to travel to a place that is comforting. Spain is familiar , but offers adventure. It’s like a dream, I have been here before but I am a stranger. Servers don’t know if they should offer me menus in the native language or English. I blend into the background, but still take selfies.

I have travelled to 43 countries, but keep returning to one. Why? Is the Spanish way in my genes? I admit as I take flamenco class , the songs we rehearse to dance to are reminiscent of the songs my great grandmother used to play on the piano. It’s as if the country exudes nostalgia that I can’t place.

And so this is why we must travel…to make new memories, experience lands we never dreamed of, walk on terrain our forefathers came from, and somehow start to see that the world is our home.

“Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” – Ibn Battuta

In the book The Artist Way, one question you are encouraged to reflect on is “how are you mean to yourself.” In our society, we focus on the positive aspects on how we care for ourselves, but are we specific in listing 10 ways we are mean to ourselves? When we take the time to write it down, it becomes real. We begin to question, why are we harming ourselves?

Initially, I avoided this exercise. I didn’t want to admit how I treat myself poorly. I preferred to keep it unconscious. What arose for me as I was writing these down, was various ways I compare myself to an older version of me or other people. Instead of being pleased and content with right now , I long for something else. This week in Flamenco class, our dance was videotaped to dissect our moves. In replaying the video, I couldn’t help but notice how overweight I appeared . I wasn’t as skinny as some of the Spaniards or Brits next to me. Why did I wear a red loose top instead of black like everyone else? Why did I look gigantic? There were two options in this scenario : I could root for myself or against myself. I chose the former and then began rationalising reasons: shirt, the angle, the skirt. It’s not going to be self serving to allow these negative thoughts to obsessively circulate in my head.

Another way I am mean to myself is I don’t allow myself to buy luxurious things. This includes feeling guilt for buying a designer purse or an expensive dessert for no special occasion. I arrived early for a jivamukti class today and before stepping in for my regular latte, I allowed myself to check out hummingbird cafe. I have seen the cookbook based on this establishment before, but never allowed myself to venture in. Th cupcakes , cakes, whoopie pies were beautiful. Several men were in the store buying personalised birthday cakes. Many cakes cost a hefty 50£ . Should I just back out and buy a cheap dessert at the local grocery store? I don’t deserve this. My birthday was over. I wasn’t having a fancy dinner. Could I just buy an extravagant tasty treat? I thought back to the exercise of how I am mean to myself . I actually purchased two desserts, one for me and another for anthony. To my surprise the salesperson even rewarded me with a free cupcake, her favourite!

We can’t just look at how we treat ourselves without looking at the shadow side of how we hurt ourselves. Sometimes when we believe we are being kind and pushing ourselves by setting goals, we may take it to the extreme. We set such high expectations, or feel defeated when we didn’t hit the goal in our projected time . We give up on ourselves . Be kind! As they said on the television show Parks and Recreation , “treat yo self.”

“I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”-Albert Einstein

One virtue I admire the older I get is the inquisitive nature that is available to us. It is expected that children ask numerous questions on how the world works and are receptive to the responses given. Yet somehow as we age, there’s an inverse correlation. As curiosity decreases, our know-it-all nature increases.

We believe we know how the world works, how we feel, others feel , and therefore don’t bother to ask. In addition, there is so much going in our own personal worlds with responsibilities and obligations that we don’t bother to wonder. Why do we want to know more if we don’t really care about the answers?

Remember when you first met a crush or a new friend you deeply connected with? You wanted to know everything about them. Questions arose with ease, and you were genuinely interested in how the other person would respond. Hopefully the process was mutual. As you inquired, they did as well. You could talk for hours, because you just wanted to be in each other’s atmospheres.

I value and admire observing people engage in conversations or interviews with curiosity. I have been listening to Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday podcast, and I hear her demonstrate this frequently. On a recent episode with Buddhist Psychologist and Teacher Jack Kornfield, she inquired what metta/loving kindness meditation was. Although I knew she knew the definition, she wanted to hear the wisdom Jack had to offer on this particular technique. She responds to his answer with appreciation, and actually at times asks him to repeat it so the words will seep into her bones. She can live into it. Even though we think we may know the answer, if we ask a question with innocence, we may be surprised at the response that is revealed by this particular person on this day. There is variance.

Another time the sense of wonder is heightened for most of us is when we travel. The language, scenery, people, currency, cuisine, and fashion may be exotic for us. We cannot help but be curious. It’s easy to be full of wonder when novelty arises. The question becomes how do you maintain that sincere mesmerized inquisitive nature when the monotony of everyday life prevails.

This virtue of having authentic curiosity in our workplace, marriages, family, and friendships seem vital to stay engaged with life. How can you try to start to see the world through the eyes of a child, lover, or tourist? What’s one thing can you do today to demonstrate being genuinely interested with one aspect of your daily life? What can you focus on with wonder?

A reminder there are so many tiny aspects we can start to shift with these new eyes: our pets, commute to work, partner, how we sit and walk, the way we eat or drink, interactions with families, or even how we choose to shower. The aspects are limitless. Change it up. Be curious and observe the benefits of being interested in your life again.

“Curiosity is the list of the mind.”-Thomas Hobbes

“As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt,” –Anthony Bourdain

Two celebrity suicides occurred in less than one week: Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain. Both were beloved individuals in their worlds, but they couldn’t allow the love to land on them. The world is left stunned with one simple question. Why?

They had what appeared was everything people strive for: fame, finances, success in their strenuous career fields. But what was missing? We may speculate, but never know the true answers.

These deaths have increased the conversation about suicide among Americans, and the importance of receiving mental health care.  But what will happen to Kate and Anthony’s loved ones? How will their tragic deaths impact their young children, partners, and close friends?

I did not know either of them personally, but notice these losses (particularly Bourdain) is highly impacting numerous individuals.  Hours after his death was announced, people around the world began paying their tributes on social media.  Bourdain’s fans saw the globe through his shows on CNN and the Travel Channel.   This chef, author, travel writer, and television host widened his fans’ culinary palettes through what he featured on his travel shows.  Reading an outpouring of messages online, we realized what a vital impact he made in the culinary world and the international travel scene for Americans. He was witty, authentic, charming, and relatable.  We all felt like we knew him after watching an episode.  With his tattooed body, cavalier attitude, and fast paced life, he was known as the first rock star chef.  Men wanted to be him, and women wanted to be with him.  You knew that he would be your ideal adventure buddy.  He would push you to try exotic cuisine, hit up hole in the wall restaurants, splurge on Michelin starred meals, drink excessively local liquor at hidden bars, and somehow find street food to sober up.

My husband, who is a chef, got me hooked on Bourdain’s shows.  We have different tastes in television shows, he prefers dramas while I enjoy quirky sitcoms.  But somehow we could always agree on Bourdain.  We watched his shows as a way to escape our daily lives, connection, entertainment, or as inspiration for our future journeys.  It was total immersion.  We virtually were there on his journeys with him, noted his recommendations, and even opted to search out these hotspots ourselves.  His ventures would become our modern gastronomical pilgrimages.  I know we were not alone in our feelings for Bourdain.   This is why his death is hitting people hard. He was our travel and culinary superhero. Bourdain had no fear of what he ate, where he went, canoodled with top dog chefs around the world, and had energy to keep going.  He was living the life we all dreamed of, and chose to opt out early.  What about the rest of us mere mortals?

Life has so much suffering, which at times seems too overwhelming to bear.  But then it passes.  Things improve.  And then another difficulty arises.  This is how the fluctuations in life occur. It’s a miracle any of us have the strength to carry on. I had heard on a recent podcast, that after a certain age life becomes a choice.  Each day we wake up, it is the choice to live.  Regardless of the hardships we may knowingly face for the day, we are choosing life.

With both Kate and Anthony, I can’t help but wonder…What if?

What if a loved one noticed how down they were feeling and took more time to reach out and talk to them that day?  What if a stranger caught them on the street and shared loving words of how they impacted their lives? What if anything was different?

We cannot go back, but we can go forward with people in our everyday lives.  How can we recognize and notice those in our atmosphere that are struggling? Can we offer additional support, guidance, or comforting words? Even the simple act of looking into the eyes of a stranger and smiling can maybe change one’s day.  Take the time to notice, get your face out of your phones, observe those around you, and reach out.  Keep people connected.  Know we are not alone. It may not change everyone’s life, but it may alter the course of some.

“fear is the cheapest room in the house, I’d like to see you in better living conditions.”-hafiz

“Until we have met the monsters in ourselves, we keep trying to slay them in the outer world. And we find that we cannot. For all darkness in the world stems from darkness in the heart. And it is there that we must do our work.”
― Marianne Williamson

Suicide impacts people of all ages, we all know someone who has attempted, thought, or completed suicide.  If you need to talk to someone, there is help out there. In the USA call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1(800) 273-8255 https://suicidepreventionlifeline.orgor in the UK call the Samaritans at 116 123.

I am in the process of beginning week 4 out of the 12 week artist way program by Julia Cameron. One of the biggest homework exercises of the week is to not read. Initially I thought this could be doable, I won’t read books. But what else does this entail? I think the book was written before the advent of social media and emails. Where do I start and where do I stop? It’s not just tangible books, but books on audio, magazines, and I believe screen time. Although I cannot eliminate all of these this week, I can start to minimise them. With the extra time and side that would be spent inputting, I could begin to focus on outputs. Creative expressions or simply being present, without the go to entertainment . Maybe it would also be more rest and sleep.

What is being revealed so far on this artist way journey, almost 1/3rd of the way in is not one creative bang. It’s the daily process of trying to live more creatively through the clothes I wear, the music I listen to, how I choose to spend my weekends. There was this beautiful quote the writer Mark Nepo had said in an interview about initially wanting try to become this beautiful poet. His life was about the end result of becoming a poet. Now the older he gets its more about his life becoming a poem. For me doing the artist way,it isn’t just about becoming an artist. It’s about living a creative life everyday. Art and creativity is available to us all and can be for some a spiritual practice.

I had spoken to a colleague about creativity and spirituality recently. She said she was neither creative or spiritual. She then asked me, how are you creative? It was a basic question that I hadn’t thought about much until now.

The answers I gave her included the following forms of creative expression: journaling , writing, dancing, the clothes I wear, creating yoga routines, in the therapy room, developing playlists for my workouts and drives (and friends), choosing an intention for the day, or a particular quote. There are so many ways to be creative, people tend to forget. It’s how we choose to look at and welcome in the world. We can Pt attention in a creative manner.

Art is not reserved for the few, but us all. Why do we forget this? Being creative is play. It can exist at any age and for anybody.

How are you creative?

How can your life become a poem?

My new fascination that has developed here in Oslo is watching people dive into the water. Generally this is not completed off a proper diving board, but makeshift ones. What I love about this city, is that the majority of people choose to dive into the water versus take the ladder. They want the shock and feeling of going for it versus the timid inching in the steps offer.

I heard one American say to another “you are now part Viking!” after he dived into the water. He shivered saying, “right now I’m Floridian, because this water is cold.” He joked about this but seemed happy to have taken the leap to the unknown cold Nordic waters.

The act of diving into the water is so bold. There seems to be an inverse relationship with bravery and age.  It seems to come easier with decreased age.  Teenagers are at the peak of it, as they show off their skills jumping in. We’re compelled to watch them.  There’s no fear when a child is about to dive into the water, there’s just joy.

I don’t know when I became fearful of diving. Perhaps it’s because I don’t actually know how to dive, just like I don’t know how to do a real push up. There’s a mental blockage that if I go head first into the water, I will hurt myself. And so I don’t do it.

This reminds me of a podcast I heard with Elizabeth Gilbert from On Being. She discussed how we are all born creative beings , but we forget this. We stop cultivating it, and make excuses as to why art should not be our way of life. Kids instinctively know they are creative , she says with Legos they know what to do with them. They don’t make excuses that they won’t make a masterpiece or shy away because their piece was fabulous last week and won’t be amazing again. They just do it. Why do we build up barriers of lack in life? With age comes fear of failure, and therefore fear of risk .

Before I jumped into the water today, I felt all eyes were on me.  In reality, nobody was watching.  I don’t think I actually know how to dive. It seems as if I missed the diving day lesson during my swimming classes. I know I couldn’t do it properly with my hands to form a dolphin like shape and fall into the water gracefully. But it was hot and I knew I just had to do it, so I jumped in twice ! The water was quite cold and I only stayed in for a minute . After I got out , my body felt like it was in shock. It was tingling with coolness, but also exhilaration in going for it.

I don’t know if diving will become my new thing, but I definitely will continue to awe in wonder . I could probably watch people dive all day…the joy, the fear, the pride, the dare, and the unique nature in the universality of this movement. It’s such a beautiful act to witness. I want to cheer these strangers on, especially those who spend extended minutes of apprehension staring at the drop. I want to scream “f*ck yes!” to the celebration of this moment, to life, and to conquering this dive.

I feel grateful to be a witness, and a participant. Sometimes I will join in, whether it’s proper or not. Who is to say what is the correct way to do it? If you are diving for the pleasure, relief of sweat , and to celebrate in the community of playfulness who cares ? Be a child again and jump!

In less than 24 hours, Oslo has captivated my heart. I somehow land on a surreal weekend, where the weather is 80 degrees, the sun is out, and people are joyous. I am travelling and oddly have no plans, except what I observed from watching a Travel With Rick Steves Norway episode online. As soon as I arrived at my hotel, I dropped my bags and tried to head straight to a Fjord cruise. Although it was sold out, I decide to meander towards this modern art museum: Astrup Fearnley Museet. Each corner I turned, I observed locals and tourists embracing the sun. They were eating in cafes outside, or sitting on built in benches looking out onto the water, grabbing ice cream cones, or bicycling around the city.

I made it to the museum shortly before it closed, but as I peered behind the building I was mesmerized. I saw a makeshift beach, it was exactly what I was looking for. Sun bathers stretched on towels after a careful dip into the pebbled cool waters that lined the city. Doggies shook themselves to dry off, after their child owners dragged them on leashes to be splashed. Selfies were taken by tourists who proved they got in the water (although they only dipped their toes). Stand up paddleboarders carefully passed by.

Even further behind the museum was an impromptu diving board. Teenagers showed off their cliff diving skills with somersaults into the sea. Crowds gathered and watched as they overcame their fears and exuded their bravery. As I observed all this, tears spontaneously came to my eyes. This is beauty. What we were all participating in did not cost any money. For a brief moment, everyone’s cares and stresses were diminished. We were embracing the sun, gathering by the water, surrounded by exterior art exhibits, and observing people show off their talents. I forgot how much I missed this, how much I missed summer. It was nostalgia, in a land I have never been to. It was this universal nostalgia that we all have, almost as Jung would say this universal unconscious we all briefly tapped into remembering.

There were other brief observations I made in these 24 hours while in Oslo that highlighted the beauty. Norway is more diverse than I had imagined it to be. I thought it would be full of tall blonde Caucasian Thor like Vikings. What I found is that the culture is highly ethnically varied. I spoke to a salesperson who physically shared the same Asian like features as me and seemed to have an American accent. When I asked her where she was from, she said Norway. I was shocked, she could have been me. I shouldn’t be surprised that numerous people have been attempting to speak Norwegian to me. I could be a local.

Another beautiful aspect is that art is everywhere. I haven’t had a chance to dip into the museums, but the city boasts an excessive amount of them. Yet, the art just doesn’t sit in four walled spaces. It is everywhere in the city. It’s also not just boring run of the mill art, it exudes sensuality, joy, suffering, and all the vicissitudes of life. Catch out this provocative piece that lined that the exterior of city hall:

These pieces all tell a story, you can’t help but be curious about. The city boasts the popular Scream painting by Edward Munch, but he wasn’t the only artist from here. Gustav Vigeland spent his life’s work beautifying the city. And it shows. A park shares over 200 of his sculptures, which is free for the public to enjoy. How can you not love a city that embraces art throughout everywhere you turn?

Art doesn’t just exist in the city, it exists on the people. So many people have tattoos here, which I find quite beautiful. Many of the tattoos aren’t tiny either, but massive on people’s backs, forearms, or legs. They wear their artist armor with pride. It shouldn’t be a surprise then since I have six myself, that people began to question my Norwegian residency.

All of the restaurants and cafes seemed to be lined with people reconnecting with their loved ones: close friends, family members, partners, and co-workers. The extended daylight and gorgeous weather lifted everyone’s spirits. Or maybe they were already lifted. In 2018, Norway was crowned the second happiest country in the world. Nordic countries to vacillate between the top spots. It must be in the genes or water.

These are my observations with only venturing into a tiny slice of Oslo. I have yet to take the fjord cruise, see the beautiful landscapes of land and sea the country has to offer, or to step foot into other aspects of the city. But I am already in love with the beauty, and the juxtaposition of city, nature, art, pedestrian and bicycle friendly, ethnically diverse tattoo driven people. I believe we all have the capacity to live this way, we simply just need to remember.