I am embarking on a several week trip to America. It’s my first time going to the states since I moved to Spain, and probably the longest period I haven’t travelled anywhere since the pandemic. Six months. I can’t help but wonder, where is home?
This summer marks ten years that I have lived outside of America, via the United Kingdom, France, and now Spain. A new friend I met in Europe reminded me that “you are not American, you are a world citizen.” At first, I wanted to disagree with him. My upbringing was in America, I have an American accent, my family is there, I own a home there. Of course I am American, a multiracial American. But as I got on the plane in Lisbon today (my layover from Malaga), I am surrounded by American accents. It’s awkward. I feel I don’t fit in. Do these people understand me? Were they just on holiday, taking a dream vacation? Or are they like me just visiting America too? This is my life. Staff members and passport control are asking how long I have been in Europe. I respond by pulling out my visa. Perhaps I am a global citizen.
I realize maybe we don’t have to choose. We are not one or the other. We can be all. My friend recently bought a home in Michigan. We are from the Midwest, and I asked her will she give up her home in New York and totally move to this new home in Michigan. She doesn’t know. She too, also feels both are home: East Coast and the Midwest. You don’t have to choose one or the other. There is reality you can be both. It reminds me of my racial identity. Years ago, when growing up and taking standardized tests, I had to choose my race when filling out the form. I informed the teacher, I wasn’t just one answer. But there was little cultural sensitivity at the time and in small time Ohio. She forced me to choose one. Do I choose how others define me? Do I change the response each time, letting each parent be represented? Do I opt out and not answer? Why must we conform?
After ten years of living overseas, and for ten years prior to that living in various parts of America, I realize all parts are me. An Ohio Cali Hawaiian Philly New York American citizen. That is okay. Do not allow others to define you. You have a choice in this. I am returning to the country I was born in, but now I realize it’s part of me. Not all of me.
“At the beach, life is different. Time doesn’t move hour to hour but mood to moment. We live by the currents, plan by the tides and follow the sun. “ – Sandy Gingras
I am lucky enough to currently live walking distance to the port and beach. Bella and I go nearly everyday. And one thing I love to do is watch people as they engage with the sun and beach. The area I am in is the Costa del Sol, entitled this after an excessive amount of days of sun per year. Due to the fact that the average is around 325 days of sun, there are many tourists, retirees, and transplants from colder countries during the winter months.
I witness people first walk onto the port, seeing the Mediterranean and the sun on a winter day. They seem stunned by the beauty. Selfies are taken. People sit at the first restaurant at the port to take in the local musicians, and drink a sangria or cana. Their shoulders relax. People then continue their stroll down the port, and eventually head to the beach.
It’s here I observe the moment they have been waiting for. Although the sea is too cold to swim in at the moment, some still do. It’s normal to see children get excited when arriving at the beach, because this is what children do. But oftentimes, the adults become childlike as well. I noticed a woman who seemed so happy being here on a weekday, that she started to slow dance with the ocean. I saw another woman playing tag with the ocean waves that came to shore, she was in jeans and tried to run away as they came close to her. Of course the ocean won that round, as they generally win the majority of rounds. But the other day I saw something that will be etched in my memory.
The weather was warm, it was in the 80s (or 25 plus celsius), therefore more people were in the water. It was the first weekend, I was in a bikini. This is how warm it is. There was a man who looked like a local with his son, he seemed to have just gotten out of the water. His son laid on a towel in the sand. This man rolled in the sand like he was a sushi roll being wrapped. He did it with joy. With his arms up and showed his child how great he was feeling. Generally the sand is something everyone I know avoids, but he embraced it. He left it on for at least ten minutes, maybe it served as an exfoliator as one does in the Dead Sea or in the spas. Eventually he took another dip in the Mediterranean and appeared refreshed. This was actually a joy to witness.
I’m sharing this on the blog because it made me smile. It served as a reminder that I need to be present to find pleasure and appreciation in another’s joy. I wouldn’t have witnessed it if I was on my phone, and no I wasn’t quick enough to capture it on camera. But it’s etched in my mind. I want to encourage you to be present each time you are outside, not only to be with all of nature, people, and animals that are around you, but to observe the little things in strangers around you. Happiness is all around.
It’s a time of dating apps, where one can swipe right or left to determine your worth to them. Love seems elusive. It’s a time where people can unmatch or ghost you if you don’t fit their ideal in the moment. One feels disposable. Love is a condition so many of us strive for, but feels far from reach.
And all we need to do to witness love is put down our phones and observe it. This is a new practice I have been trying. If I am striving for love and all the aspects of it, not just romantic, but also communal, friendship, familial, and universal, then I am practicing witnessing and being love. It requires one’s presence.
Today, as I sat in a local town square to be in the sun with my dog, I was present. I observed a woman crawling on her knees to move a cigarette butt so her baby wouldn’t grasp for it as he crawled the same park. I saw a single father, pushing his slightly tween daughter on a makeshift swing. I observed two friends catching up, as they were on holiday. I saw how I shielded the eyes of my dog when a razor scooter zoomed by so her bark wouldn’t ruin the mood of the moment for those around me. I interacted with a stranger as our dogs met, and although her dog was barking, she knew her pet was curious and only wanted to smell out my dog and greet it. None of these people were on their phones. They were present and patient. And this is where I observe the lines repeated so often in weddings from the Corinthians: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs.”
We don’t have to wait to hear those words to be read as people exchange their vows, to see them play into action. It’s a reminder that love is more than one’s romantic partner. Love is how we interact with other beings in the world. Love does not have to be saved for special moments, it is possible in every moment. So in a time of swiping, impatience, and greed, we can remind ourselves love still exists and is all around. But it requires us to observe. And when we can observe love wholeheartedly, there’s a contagion to that. We want to pass it on. Don’t pass on the bitterness, frustration, or stress. Pass on the love in the little acts you engage in with those in your atmosphere.
Today take note of the love you witness. Pass it on.
Yesterday I just booked a flight for this summer to Sofia Bulgaria, which will include a day trip to Northern Macedonia. I couldn’t be more excited. These will be my 51st and 52nd countries to visit respectively (depending on what country counter you are using). Generally these countries are not on people’s to do list, but the more one travels, the further one wants to explore. And a feeling returned that I hadn’t had in awhile….
Excitement.
Yes, I have travelled post the pandemic, including moving two new countries post Covid: France and Spain. But I haven’t visited new countries since February 2020. These were Lithuania and Ukraine (image below). Both of which I loved, and were timely.
Although I thought some of my wanderlust was dying down, I was surprised to see it still exists within for unchartered territory. What makes these travels more delightful is going to places I never dreamed of going to before. I knew I would always see the top 5 of Europe because this is what is sold to us on American films and media. But when I go to these new locations that I never dreamed of, it’s a reminder that I am pushing myself beyond the boundaries. I am expanding the box and surpassing a goal that I never even set.
There is an online organization called the Travel Century Club, which has a different type of count of territories. They have over 300 territories. If you have travelled to at least 100, you can join the club. My new goal is to hit the 100 club by the time I am 50. And I think this is doable. At this time, the number I am at is 64 territories. This is an average of at least 6 more per year to visit. https://travelerscenturyclub.org/countries-and-territories/alphabetical-list
I was excited about it, I told my mother today. “I have a new goal. I want to join the Travel Century Goal.” After explaining what it was, she said, “oh I thought you had a real goal like of your life purpose, not a travel goal.” I said “no, right now this is my purpose, at least until I’m 50.” She laughed it off. But why can’t it be? There are certain goals I have that are out of my control, but this goal I can accomplish. Why can’t a life goal be one’s current purpose? One’s North Star?
It’s the internal excitement that was the signal to me that my soul again is once stirred. This is the fuel I have been lacking. And it is enough. We are the ones who dictate our purposes, our lives. Our purpose doesn’t have to be monumental. It can shift. It can be what pulls your life force. And right now for me it’s the Century Club.
Often I have friends back home ask me the question, “Do you get lonely?” They ask this because I have lived overseas for ten years. Bella and I are currently living in our fourth country. And the answer is yes, but I think the emotion of loneliness has become so normal that I do not always name it that.
I am not ashamed to say I get lonely. This does not have to do with the lack of a romantic partner, but the lack of true friends and community. There’s so many ways we can be lonely, but all has to do with lack of connection. The thing is we can be lonely, even if we are surrounded by others and do not feel understood. We can even be lonely if we are living in our hometown, but currently not feeling bonded with others. Loneliness doesn’t always have to do with newness to a city, but oftentimes that can go hand in hand. Years ago, at a therapy conference I heard author and relationship expert Esther Perel say that the number one problem in America was loneliness. This fact was verbalized pre-covid. We know with the pandemic, loneliness increased in societies throughout the world. We had to learn how to navigate this emotion in this new way of being in the world.
But this is a blog on happiness? True, but to avoid these difficult emotions is to veer into the world of toxic positivity. We must embrace the totality of our emotions. It’s when we know we can feel the lows, that the highs are appreciated at a greater depth.
So what do you do with loneliness?
Recognize. Notice what is arising internally, give it a name. If you could stop a moment, and tune into your body. Where in your body is this arising? What is it like? It’s the first step.
Allow Feelings. Give yourself permission to feel it. And what does that look like for you? Tears. Frustration. Anger. Let it out. Give yourself space to feel, and offer the self- compassion to yourself to be vulnerable right now.
Voice. Voice out your feelings to others. This could be to a therapist, or via phone calls with friends and family in other parts of the world. You may express it through journal entries that release the turmoil inside.
Elevate. Now you took the time to notice what’s going on, feel the feels, voice it, and now you can elevate it. This is transforming the motion. It’s been said that emotion is energy in motion, and if emotions are truly expressed and felt only last several minutes. So now what? Maybe you want to harness that loneliness and transform it into a creative project. Or it’s a time to reassess your goals. It can also be a time to now express what in your life you are grateful for.
Although this process is laid out for loneliness, you can use a variation of this for any difficult emotion. This is temporary, just like everything else. Next time you are lonely, turn to this process, and let me know how it works for you. It will pass and you are okay.
It’s the last day of 2022, and in reflecting on how this year went, I couldn’t help but think of the song from Rent, Seasons of Love:
525,600 minutes 525,000 moments so dear 525,600 minutes How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife In 525,600 minutes How do you measure a year in the life?
How do you measure a year? How do you sum it all up in one word or phrase? What have your most joyful days consisted of or those that were filled with debilitating sorrow? What have been the adventures you have chosen to take? How did you spend your days? Who did you spend them with? Were there romantic rendezvous followed by heartbreaks? Was there boredom? How do you cheer all of your accomplishments or grow from your failures? What brought smiles, and what brought shame? Who entered your world and who left it? What are you vowing to do differently? What is going to be on repeat?
I have been reflecting on a variety of these questions today, but actually much of these past several months. Moving home tends to do this. One cannot help but reflect on what occurred during the time one resided in a place, and the change one longs for. I have moved to my fourth country less than two weeks ago. I officially left the cosmopolitan mega city of Paris France to the coastal vibrant town of Malaga Spain. Although I am American, I have now lived overseas for 9 ½ years, via the route of the United Kingdom. At the age of 43, officially midlife, I can’t help but wonder how do I want to spend the rest of my time on this earth?
This has been a monumental year for me, in that it was different than so many of my other years. In the past I vowed to make changes, but they never seemed to occur. It was all talk, but in December 2021, I knew a shift was necessary. One year ago, I left the traditional work force, and jumped into the world of the unknown in a foreign land which I didn’t understand the language. I was appreciative I did this at the time, because I was able to spend endless days with my two elderly dogs. This year, I lost Puzo, my fifteen year old English Bulldog. This was one of the greatest losses I have experienced, for a being who I took care of for much of my adult life (late 20s to early 40s). And since his loss, it’s trying to navigate the world without him and create a new life with my nearly 14 year old chug Bella, in yet another country. The irony is the street I live in now is called Pozos Dulces. Pozos seems similar to Puzo, and dulce means sweet. Therefore, I like to think the street I live in now is called Sweet Puzos. He is still with me. Life goes on, and I have his blessing.
I’ve travelled to America at least four times in 2022, to visit family, friends, speak at a large conference, and to sort my visa situation out. In those moments, I was able to spend time with my brother as he healed from jaw surgery, watch my father got remarried, celebrate my grandmother’s surprise 80th birthday party, and was even able to visit a new city in my home country. My brother, mother, and friend Isabella came to Paris on numerous occasions. Isabella was my doggy au-pair during so many of my travels, which I am deeply grateful for. My mother helped me move countries, which I couldn’t have done without her.
But the year hasn’t gone as I expected. I didn’t land that publishing deal I hoped for, or other dream job opportunities I applied to. I did lead an ongoing creativity group in Paris and facilitated numerous sound healing sessions. I was able to form new friendships in Paris. I did a second portion of The Camino de Santiago. There were other monumental moments I experienced, such as being on my favorite television show House Hunters International, speaking to a group of 600-800 female photographers live onstage, and recently publishing an article in The Washington Post. How do you measure a year?
There was more laughter than tears, more love than hate, more connection than isolation, more wonder than monotony. I spent a lot of the year in confusion of where to go next and questioning what my identity was if not a psychologist. I spent the year shedding guilt that I could be happy, even if I no longer was a productive member of society in a 9-5 job. I am still learning this, and unlearning many things.
Perhaps you have vowed to make shifts in your life during the pandemic, and my question is have you? What do you want to change? What is stopping you? Or maybe you realize no change is necessary, you now know that being in your hometown surrounded by friends and family is the greatest blessing you could have ever wished for. The pandemic may have taught you to appreciate all that you have. How do you measure this year that has passed? How do you want to measure the upcoming year?
I will be facilitating an upcoming virtual sound healing event next week, where we may reflect on some of these questions. Join me. Details below.
There’s a magic you forget, when you live in a touristy town. I live two blocks from the Eiffel Tower, and a 10 minute walk to the Seine River. Some people save money for their whole lives awaiting to simply visit this town, and take their obligatory photos. And in the midst of everyday life: days that are too hot you just want to stay indoors, or days you have too many errands to do, or days you just are feeling down, you forget the majesty that lies outdoors. I try to remind myself that. It’s still less than eight months that I have lived here, and I am aware my time is limited.
I go to the Champ de Mars daily now, which is my closest dog park. I notice the tourists, as they dress in their finest and pose for outlandish photos in front of the La Tour Eiffel. Some try to look sexy with flowing dresses and high slits, cheesy with making peace signs, some jump in the air, or have accessories such as a bicycle held high in their arms. And I watch their glee, as the moment is captured.
But what is interesting I find in the park, is the routine. The same people who walk in the park at the allotted golden hour before the sun exudes too much heat. There is the lady with a tan hat who walks laps with a cane getting her steps in, a yoga teacher who takes her studio outside for visiting tourists, a retired couple who work out daily, the staff members that keep the park clean, the homeless person who takes in a nap, and all of the dogs and their owners. I don’t know any of these people, and have talked to few of them. But they have become familiar, and in a town of strangers, the familiarity has become something I’ve learned to find most beautiful about this city. And the irony is that this exists in every city, if you are patient, walk the same paths, and observe closely enough. You can witness beauty unfolding all around you.
“To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe. “Marilyn vos Savant
Paris may be my favorite city, but Spain is my favorite country. Again and again each time I visit, it pulls at my heart. Perhaps it is because, I know somewhere in my family lineage I am Spanish. Spain invaded the Philippines centuries ago, and some of the cultural aspects I feel I have inherited. There is a sense of familiarity I have each time I visit, regardless the city or island. Flan, ensamadas, and empanadas are all cuisine that I use to eat with my family in our gatherings. The brightness of clothing the locals wear matches the pop of colors my maternal lineage embraced. And the language is easier than French, I can actually pass for speaking it. I took Spanish for several years in high school and college, therefore I feel comfortable enough to get around. Understanding Tagalog assisted with the ease of Spanish language embedding into my bones. The California-esque terrain and eternal sunshine warms my heart.
Previously there was a Spanish tourism advertisement, whose slogan was « Smile you are in Spain. » And I couldn’t agree more. I know Americans are mesmerized with France and Italy, but Spain may have it beat. The euro stretches far, the siestas are tranquilo, the atmospheres are lively, the people are friendly, the tapas, and the flamenco ! Visiting Spain seems to give you that extra boost of Vitamin D you didn’t know you were lacking.
Espana is the hidden gem. Last week, was able to have a brief sibling vacation to Mallorca. I was open to visiting and had visited this Balearic island years ago, but mostly stayed in the capital of Palma and the confines of my all inclusive hotel resort. I was curious what the fascination was with this place, but I realized what was to be discovered with the independence of a rental car. The island has 300 beaches to visit, and numerous villages to wander around in. On this occassion, I did not visit the capital Palma. Therefore what was interesting, was I felt i was stepping back in time, when we drove the rural landscape. Throughout our time there, the only stoplights we encountered were linked as warnings for railroad tracks. Nature surrounded us in every corner. The vastness of the large mountains, the rural dessert like atmosphere in the center of the island, the village towns that existed up the mountains, the beauty of the cool blue water. My brother poignantly said, « Americans talk about freedom, but this is freedom. » This trip did taste like freedom, but it did not relate to a politcal party, or being in the U.S.A., or the amount of money we had. It was the luxury of time and the ability to explore vast terrain without boundaries. If you have the opportunity, visit. Any location in Spain will do. This is freedom, and you will say to yourself « smile you are in spain. »
‘Any reasonable, sentient person who looks at Spain, comes to Spain, eats in Spain, drinks in Spain, they’re going to fall in love. Otherwise, there’s something deeply wrong with you. This is the dream of all the world.’ – Anthony Bourdain
When I ask a lot of French people what they like to do here for fun, there is a response that arises again and again. Walk. Marcher. Flaneur. People like to walk, not as a means of transportation to get to point A from B, as a way to hit 10,000 steps, or to engage in exercise. They walk simply for the pleasure of walking.
This reminds me of the Jane Austen days, when people would take turns about the grand estates or gardens. Outside of going to the fancy ball, the local market, or working on skills to impress others (instruments, singing, reading) there was nothing to do. And so they walked.
We live in a world of distractions. Non-stop entertainment on endless devices. The French engage in these activities too, along with the rest of the world. But the Parisians also like to walk. This brings joy to me. As over the years, I have found I take pleasure in walking.
In my Midwestern hometown, the only people seen walking are children or those who have gotten a DUI (driving under the influence). Nobody would be caught dead walking. Most of the time one will drive from one shopping plaza to another for the sheer convenience of it. But here that wouldn’t be an option.
I was speaking with my friend the other day, and noted the French do not count their calories. It is not listed on menus, or boards where one orders food. Nobody seems to be calculating how many carbs were eaten or fat consumed. But perhaps they do not have to. They walk it off. This is part of life.
Walking does not cost any money. All it requires is good walking shoes. One may wear out their shoes more easily, but view it as an investment. There’s no need for a gym membership or gas money. Let your feet take you there.
“After a day’s walk, everything has twice its usual value.”
I was at a my first raclette party the other day filled with expats, who mention they may not return to the United States due to several things: healthcare, guns, and education. “Healthcare is a human right, it should not be for profit.” I cannot disagree with this statement, and it ruminates in my head as I live here, and ponder my future.
Later that evening, I got off at the metro stop Varenne by the Rodin Museum (my favorite sculptor). The Eiffel Tower was in the background shining, as I walked towards my apartment. I was leaving a dinner with a new group of friends, I had just gone on a date that surprisingly went well the day prior, and had plans the next day to meet up with creatives to lead an Artist Way workshop. I thought “this is my life!” I’m shocked by this fact repeatedly. Paris is my current hometown. I live in a city people dream for years to visit, and I was doing it. I was living in a town filled with delights in pleasure. But I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
Did I deserve to be happy? I wasn’t working. I thought of the judgements others may have towards my happiness that I was lazy, a freeloader, or a drifter. I even thought of so many people who are suffering, who may believe I wasn’t worthy of this emotion.
I was setting limits on the bounty of my happiness.
Why do I feel guilty for feeling happy? It’s as if I feel happiness should be earned. I felt guilty that I was not working in a job. I had this false belief that I could only receive happiness if I clocked in 40 hours and received a paycheck.
I was setting rules to how I could enjoy myself.
But as I walked home, I battled that thought. Happiness does not have to be earned. It is a human right, just like health care is a human right. We all deserve and have access to happiness. It’s not a limited resource, or tied to profit. I have the right to be happy. And I will continue to remind myself this, as I live in the city of my dreams.
“You stumble, you soar. And if you’re lucky, you make it to Paris for a while.” — Amy Howard
It Only Takes A Smile 