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
This past week, when having a farewell coffee meetup with a friend, she said to me that this return home would be a pilgrimage. Although I have visited America nearly annually, I haven’t lived here in 10 ½ years. Those words “it’s a pilgrimage” repeated with me over the past 20 hour voyage home.
I’ve been prepping to move back for nearly six months in some ways, and everyone has been asking me “how are you feeling?” In truth, so many emotions, but the final months with non-stop international and Spanish travel, visitors, or packing, I haven’t been able to process. I can only be present to the next task ahead of me.
“Life is like driving in the dark. Your headlights show you the 200 feet in front of you and as you move forward, the next 200 feet are shown to you. You don’t need to see the entire path in order to reach your destination.”-Jack Canfield
On one of my last nights, as I lied in bed prepping to sleep, my thoughts began to ruminate over what all had to be done and I realized in that moment I had a choice. I was making an international move with a pet, buying a condo, starting a new job, and shipping belongings. I could choose anxiety and restless sleep or know that everything was already working out. My question became, “why wouldn’t it work out?” All was unfolding and being divinely guided, I just had to trust and focus on the next task at hand. Don’t focus on the larger picture but the next thing that was being asked from me.
My friend Isabella reminded me I was fortunate enough to not be alone. She was right, as both her and my mother would be present to help make this journey possible. I ordered a van from Uber the day prior, hoping it would fit the three of us and Bella and all of our luggages. We each had two check-in luggages, a carry on and personal item. And it did. As we made the Uber ride, I realized my carry on and personal item were over stuffed and I should pay additional money for my carry on, and buy another carry on to distribute the weight. I hoped in the van ride it would be comped, but was willing to pay. Upon reaching the counter to check in at the gate, I informed the staff member of my luggage predicament. She looked at me, my belongings, and Bella in my backpack. She told me this would be too expensive, and she grabbed the credit card machine. “240 euros,” she said . She then proceeded to say, “I’m doing this for the dog.” It was comped! She happened to be a fellow dog owner, and had empathy for us. Perhaps she knew flying with a pet internationally was massive work.
With each little step, I repeated gratitude verbally and internally, like a mantra. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Everything was working out. I definitely had to have a “pilgrimage” mindset during this. For a short amount of time, physically and energetically I would have to be managing a lot. But I could do this. I could harness my internal wonder woman as I embarked on this journey. Having actually done the camino was helpful. I reflected on the state I was in for those specified days. I questioned at times what the heck I was doing walking so many kilometers, remind myself of the intention, and the fact that so many have walked that path before. I also knew it was temporary and that magical things could happen to assist all peregrinos. And so these flights would be a different camino. It was fitting that the first film I watched on the extended journey would be The Camino, a Danish film that came out this past year. https://www.imdb.com/title/tt24177444/
I heard a quote once that “it ends as it begins.” And I thought of this as we flew from Malaga to Paris in the 2 hour journey, the city I lived in last year. In the three hour layover, I felt horrible for Bella as there were no pet relief areas. My mom bought her the cutest diaper skirt and diapers for the journey. I walked her during this break, she lifted her leg and half peed in the diaper and a wall. I grateful to have Isabella and my mom to assist me as I cleaned it up, and Bella made her own makeshift pet relief area. I was so surprised and grateful that Bella had no accidents on the 10 ½ hour flight from Paris to Los Angeles.
There was more relief and gratitude as my brother picked us up from LAX in a SUV, and had Filipino food waiting to feed us. His girlfriend had spent days cleaning the house in preparation. And we could finally breathe and rest.
In the past, embarking on a pilgrimage like this would have been overwhelming. I would have somaticized the pain, cried at various stressful trigger points, and had ruminating thoughts of anxiety. This is all okay if these emotions arise, I once did this. But for some reason this move was different. I was present to what was at hand, had assistance from friends and family. It could have been the frame of mind I was in, the pilgrimages I’ve done, or the hundreds of hours of meditation practice I have done over the years. Perhaps it’s in these moments that the results of accumulated practice are culminated. Calm surrender and trust that the Universe, our guides, God, strangers, and the path are all supporting you on this pilgrimage of life. And with that all, thank you for everyone who has supported me on this journey.
“Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves.” — Pema Chodron
Moving is always listed as one of the top 10 events that are attributed to our personal stress. There are so many facets involved with this big ordeal: making the decision to embark on this change, informing one’s landlord, having prospective tenants visit your place, finding a new place to live, searching for a job, interviewing, attaining a job, packing, transportation to the new location, and coordinating the shipment or move of one’s belongings. This is the case for me. In the past six months, I’ve made the decision to relocate. I will not just be leaving my current city, country, but also continent. After 10 ½ years of living overseas, I will be returning to America, a job, and a newly purchased condo. And so the past several months have been eventful, with interviews, travels, paperwork, coordination, and packing.
I had always thought during times of moves, that we must almost be in a manic state to ensure we get everything done. This includes excess energy, less sleep, and full speed ahead planning. I’m generally overcaffeinated and prepared for all. And this time, I’ve tried to decrease some of this and maintain a bit of my spiritual practice. In reality, I do not have the time or mental capacity to do all of my spiritual practice. This is where self-compassion has been vital for me.
It’s during these moments that I remind myself, that it is all ok. Although I may not be able to do my extended leisurely 45 minute spiritual practice every morning, everything counts. Doing just my daily gratitude and reading a spiritual text in the morning may be enough. I also could intentionally choose to make anything a spiritual or mindful practice. I have done this with taking my dog for a walk and being present without the distraction of phones, doing the dishes mindfully, and slowing down the mornings with candlelight and coffee. There are options for reset numerous times of the day.
Instead of harboring on myself that I haven’t been able to do my daily yoga practice, and I can lean into the comfort of knowing I spent quality time with visiting friends or family. I can take it easy on myself because I’m navigating a strenuous transitional time. And I can take deep diaphragmatic breaths, when I remember.
Last month, I had attended a silent retreat. On my free time, as I knit a small blanket, I would repeat the following compassion phrases first with regards to myself, then someone I love, another I am neutral towards, someone I dislike, and the larger world. This is known as metta or loving kindness meditation. The compassion phrases I tend to lean on are the following:
May I be free from suffering.
May I be free from internal and external enemies.
May I live this life with a healthy body and happy mind.
May it be so.
The blanket I was knitting was becoming a compassion blanket, for myself, others and the world. Instead of ruminating on all the stressors that were in my life, I could focus on those phrases and that moment. I remind myself this during my last week living abroad. Can I find comfort in the crazy? Can I hold myself in compassion through change? I encourage this metta practice to all of you, regardless if you are in the midst of transition or simply preparing for the holiday season.
“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”― David Mitchell
“Where are you from?” It’s the number one question we were asked and asked others on this trip. It was a question that had potentially layers of responses. This is not just what country we were raised in, but where were we living, where did our ancestors come from, and where did we aspire to live? One of the most interesting things about travel is the people you meet, if you give yourself the opportunity to exchange words with strangers. On this most recent trip to the UAE, we met people from India, Philippines, Pakistan, Nepal, Uganda, Egypt, Algeria, Greece, Germany, Singapore, England, Netherlands, and America. This is a tiny glimpse of who exists on this land.
Dubai is one of the most expensive cities in the world. The local population in the UAE is anywhere from 8-20%. One guide alluded to the fact that many of the locals do not work, having received large portions of their finances from oil. Oil was discovered only decades earlier, which brought the new found wealth to the country to a group of people who were nomadic bedouines. He noted that in addition to receiving free healthcare and education, some newlyweds are offered land or villas to assist with their new start in life. When we asked our tour guide if he was of local Emirates descent, he responded “would I be giving this tour if I was?” He said this as he drove us around six of the seven Emirates in one day, he worked seven days a week, giving group and private tours, and sleeps several hours a night balancing work life, family life, and playing professional cricket.
We know that a country can’t survive if nobody works, particularly countries such as the UAE that are developing at such a fast place. This means that 80-92% living in the UAE are expats. Newer digital nomads from Western countries move here due to tax breaks, with zero percent income tax. A fellow German explorer who was on this Emirates tour with us lived in Saudi Arabia for over the past ten years working as a HR consultant for a wealthy family and their multiple businesses. He loved the Middle East and wanted to move to Dubai with his Mexican wife who lives in Qatar, for these exact tax benefits and to expand his business. But not everyone has the financial freedom to live anywhere.
It’s been said that 50% of the population are from India, and another large majority are Filipino. Our Ugandan waitress at a Japanese restaurant asked my friend and I if it was the first time we went to this restaurant. We nodded are heads, as we were there during a Wednesday, which coincided with all you can eat sushi night. Shethought we were expats who were splurging on our night off. It made sense, because I am a mix of Filipina and Eastern European descent and my friend Isabella is Thai. We were brown just like everyone else we saw on the metro and streets. We looked like we could be living here, fellow servers in another restaurant. And if things were different, maybe we would be.
I couldn’t help but think of a parallel life I would have, if my grandmother never immigrated to America from the Philippines. I have mixed feelings with being American, particularly having lived in the UK and Europe for the past 10 years. But I often forget the world of opportunities that are available with an American passport and making a salary in USD.
The UAE is welcoming to those wanting to come to their country, allowing one to attain a work visa while on a tourist visa. But for some individuals in service industry jobs, one wonders what it is really like. Pay is low (although probably more than that of one’s third world country), health care is provided, transportation to and from one’s job is also offered. This is in addition to lodging, but transportation is on large school buses. Tourists are enamored by the bright lights of the skyskrapers and the fountain show in front of the flashing Burj Khalifa. One only has to look a little further outside a taxi or bus window to see the lines forming on the side entrances of malls or hotels, picking up and dropping off staff members at transitional hours. The UAE is expensive and therefore having housing benefits is a perk, but it’s been said that people may have up to 10 roommates in a 1bedroom apartment. I shared this story to friends in Paris, and they had heard rumors of passports being taken until debts are paid back to those who brought them over to the UAE. My ex-husband who was Italian American told me this years ago as he was sent to Dubai to open a new restaurant, but I couldn’t fathom the depths of struggle industry workers from third world countries were facing.
This blows my mind, and I wonder how this occurs in a land that many pilgrimage to in order to see these astounding feats of human creation. The UAE has created man made islands, engages in cloud seeding (where planes fly into clouds to produce rain), there are ever increasing skyscrapers and it boasts the most records in the Guinness Book of World Records, with such extravagances as the largest mall, the tallest building, and the largest gold piece of jewelry. These extravagances are built on the backs making meager income. It is a choice to work in the UAE, but how much freedom do these people have?
We often forget that physical space, such as one bedroom apartments, are a luxury many of us are privy to. Sacrifices are made to live in the UAE with one’s privacy, living situation, weather, and working hours. Oftentimes money is sent back to families in their homeland, expat parents may be providing money for grandparents or aunties and uncles caring for their own biological children they had to leave behind for all to lead “better” lives. I pondered what my life would have been like, if my grandmother, aunt, and mother never left the Philippines. Although they had great jobs in the medical field and we came from a wealthy family, who would I be if they hadn’t been willing to take the leap to move to a new land?
We talked with some of the people we met who moved to the UAE from other countries and now had aspirations to move to Nordic territories such as Finland or Sweden. Although these countries are also some of the most expensive in the world and can get extremely cold, it was an aspiration to live in these exotic lands. The UAE was to be a springboard for their next dream. They were paying their dues working hard there to aspire to advance to places with more freedom, income, and flexibility within the EU.
There were other moments of my future and past meeting me on this trip. On an hour long cruise along the Dubai Creek, we met three individuals travelling together. We thought they were a cute adult family, but it turns out two were Caucasian coworkers at a travel company and the other Hispanic individual who was travelling with them they had just met and asked to come along: Mike, Joan, and Toey. One of the individuals, Mike, was our ideal future travel self. Both Isabella and I set a goal recently to join the Travel Century Club (TCC) before we turn 50. To join TCC one must travel to at least 100 territories, which is more expansive than countries. After the UAE, I am currently at 75 territories and 53 countries. Mike was familiar with TCC, as he has travelled to over 165 territories, including the North Pole and Antarctica several times. This 68-year-old man was a kindred spirit because he encouraged us to go to Unesco World Heritage sites and National Parks. These are places Isabella always strives to visit, and this year I had applied to work at both of these organizations. Both Joan and Mike were on a cruise together throughout Greece and Egypt and met fellow passenger Toey. Mike was supposed to have his girlfriend come on this extended holiday with him, but she wasn’t able to make it, therefore they invited Toey for the ride. Toey was a young special education teacher from Texas, who bought a one way ticket to Europe, as he was on disability leave. He never had time or money to travel, as he was always working. Now was his chance, he had little plans and allowed moments of synchronicity to arise on this trip. Mike felt empathy and compassion for Toey, being a previous educator himself, and offered an invitation for him to tag along and take his girlfriend’s spot on the remainder of his Middle Eastern and European journey. Mike was paying travel privileges forward, and I had a feeling in the future Toey would do the same to another stranger.
On another excursion to the Dubai Spice and Gold Souks, we met two African American coworkers from Washington DC, who were court reporters. They appeared to be in their fifties to sixties and had travelled the world together. I had realized that Isabella and I were also prior coworkers, as we met on the set of filming a television show over twenty years ago on a set in Los Angeles. We have also taken trips around the world together. This was their second time in Dubai in two years. They loved it so much and there was more to experience on their UAE bucket list they had yet to achieve, so they returned. Their zest for life was how we aspire to continue to wander the world and make the most of the vacations we have. Time passed on the large souk tour, and we lost track of these fellow travellers. I noted to Isabella how we didn’t get to say goodbye, but the Universe wanted to ensure we did. That same evening, after getting lost in the world’s largest mall, the Dubai Mall, we ran into them, shared our days’ experiences, and grabbed a selfie. We were them and they were us.
The following day our jam packed adventure tour included two young 30 something men from Greece, and an African American fifty something married couple from Columbus Ohio. These young men were working as engineers on a construction project and were in Dubai for the past 20 days. That day was their first day off that month, and we could tell they were letting off steam as they glided and weaved in and out of their atvs or surfing on the sand dunes. Their past several years were filled with 12 hours work days in foreign countries, sacrifices made for their future selves. Both Isabella and I could relate to this offering much of our energy and time in our 30s to our jobs, making the most out of any amount of free time we had. In regards to the Ohio couple, he was retired working for the military, living in various places in America throughout his life, including Hawaii but being raised in New York. I was born in Ohio, and meeting someone from Ohio in the Middle East is simply wild. We talked story of Ohio State football culture, which has it’s own traditions. In addition, their military and New York and Hawaii life resonated with me, as I have worked with them, lived in NYC and Hawaii twice myself.
These are reflections I have on my Air France flight back to Spain, as an American, where I currently reside which has a layover in Paris, where I lived last year. All versions of me being an amalgamation on one trip. What’s so fascinating with this trip is that Dubai seemed like every place and no place. The downtown city skyline was endless and took the best brands from multiple countries of hotel chains, restaurants, cafes, grocery lines, and clothing stores and brought them all there. It’s a wealthy city which refreshingly smells of sandalwood everywhere you go, and is a melting pot of expat workers whose sole existence is to build, serve, and grow this land into a cosmopolitan luxury superpower and have bragging rights for as many world records as possible. With every person we met, regardless of their ethnicity or occupation, I could relate. In some way, whether in a past, present, future, or parallel world- they all could be me. It’s vital to see the similarities amidst the differences and to be able to see ourselves in others. Take the time to talk to strangers, whether fellow travelers or staff members. Who knows which version of you will be met on your next trip?
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did.” ― Mark Twain
As I held tightly to the grip of my atv in the Dubai desert, I tried to convince myself “this is supposed to be fun.” It was my first time on an atv, with minimal instructions given, outside of how to turn the vehicle on and follow who is in front of you. “Follow me exactly, you don’t know the desert, and if you go even one meter off, it could be a drop in the sand.” I was over alert, after my atv stalled and turned off in the first 10 minutes, after I gave it too much gas. I couldn’t turn correctly and would veer too much to one direction, or I only pushed the gas minimally, and lingered behind the group due to my lack of speed. I remained hesitant throughout the first half of my drive.
My friend and I were on an 8 day journey to the UAE, to add seven emirates to our ever expanding list of territories for the Travel Century Club (TCC). We had spent two days travelling from Spain to get here, after a cancelled flight in Paris. Our sleep was minimal and now our adrenaline was heightened on this day long adventure excursion. I couldn’t help but wonder if we were overdoing it at this moment.
As we drove our atvs up and down small hills, they would get stuck out of the sand. Our tour guide would have to get into the seat or lift the vehicle out of deepened sand. Our atvs then drove up a large hill and stopped in a central area, where all other drivers were stopping. It was time for sandsurfing. A snowboard was used as perhaps sandboards do not exist, as our Egyptian tour guide noted it’s the same. I’ve never snowboarded or skied. I wondered if I fall down. The couple from Ohio in our group both opted to skip this portion of the journey, while the Greek boys flowed down the sand, as if they were naturals. And the first time going down the hill, within seconds I fell. My bum was temporarily sore, but nothing horrible happened. I got up again and tried, and made it down the hill without falling. I did it! It was after this, that the tour guide then said, “We’re going to go through the difficult part now, don’t be scared. If you are scared, then it will impact your drive. You got this. What’s the worst that could happen? You fall in sand?”
I am not sure if it was those words from our guide who said, “what’s the worst that could happen?”, my first failed attempt in the sand or the confidence I built when accomplishing this feat, but a shift occurred. When I got on the atv again, something changed. I was more relaxed, I drove faster. I caught up with the group with more ease. I recognized I needed to be at one with the vehicle. Surrender to the moment, process, and align with the experience. It was when I felt this that I began to enjoy this ride.
This was a metaphor for my journey to the United Arab Emirates. I was slightly concerned of travelling this deep into the Middle East, due to worries from friends, family members, and the news. My mom also heightened fear in me of getting arrested for bringing the wrong medication or vitamins, chewing gum if it was illegal, or wearing inappropriate clothing. I had been warned of an American female who recently was arrested and jailed for touching an airport security guard, and having an argument with him. I prepared for this trip with the mantra of “do not get arrested” versus “live it up lavishly and enjoy.” This was evident in the initial clothing I packed looked as if I was going to Amish country in Ohio rather than the cosmopolitan city of Dubai. But after watching loads of youtube videos and Sex and the City 2, I realized I needed to bring a little bit more color to my wardrobe. And so I did. I would be respectful of the culture, but still be me.
What I needed to do was loosen my grip on the vehicle, let go of fear, build confidence, learn from my falls, and be at one with the experience. Surrender and be present, not just for this ride, but for this trip, and for the larger journey of life.
“If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world.”-Francis Bacon
Sometimes we can find the most comfort in surprising places: strangers. We don’t expect anything from them, because they don’t know us. This fact is when a kind word is said or gracious act done, the appreciation in our hearts can linger. This was evident in several instances the past two weeks.
Two weeks ago, one of my childhood friends was visiting me for her first European trip. Since I have lived here for nine months, I took her to some of my favorite places in Andalucia. This included one of the most beautiful beaches in Nerja, a 45 minute to 75 minute bus ride away (dependent on if it’s direct). The waves were strong that day, and I only had the energy to put my feet in. I had gone one week prior when the water was tranquil, and I didn’t want to navigate the currents. But Lisa was mesmerized by the waves, she entered a trance of it’s blue hue beauty and power. She walked in deeper, and the waves dragged her in for an embrace. I was in the sand at this point and saw her face after she was pulled in and laughed. Her mouth was open and she was surprised. Me and a stranger tried to motion another wave was coming and to prepare for it, she got dragged in again. Lisa prefers to say she was “spanked by the Mediterranean.” Without hesitation, this stranger went towards Lisa to try to offer assistance by pulling her arm up out of the water. I sat in astonishment. I didn’t think she was in danger, but would have easily gotten in a constant battle with the sea. Timing was everything to get out without being pulled back in. Every other person in the sea was also having this experience, but relished in it. Adults transformed to children to surrender their control to these strong waves. Lisa still had her sunglasses on and was not prepared for the intensity. In that moment, I thought how kind it was this stranger offered support while I sat there in pure surprise.
The other day I sat in a local tattoo shop, awaiting my turn for an hour long session. I talked to a young woman who was getting a souvenir tattoo, after a two week trip to Spain from the UK. It was an empowerment trip for her, post break up, and a means to exemplify her strength and symbolism of this trip. As she searched for what to get, she asked me, “are you ready to get a tattoo? Mentally ready? Because you have to be.” I agreed. I motioned to where I was getting the tattoo, and she had gotten a large tattoo in the same area before. Hers took 8 hours, compared to my potential one pending hour. She said, “Oh yes, the ankle is tender. You have to be prepared.” I appeared very non-chalant, as I had been researching the style of tattoo for months. I wasn’t aware that it would take this long. But she was right, I needed to get in the zone. A staff member asked if I wanted a coffee, I didn’t. But this stranger encouraged me to take the coffee, I would need the caffeine to get in the zone. And I was grateful for this short exchange we had with each other, hopefully I offered some support for her in this tiny end to her journey as well. I took the espresso shot and meditated for an hour during the session.
Post the tattoo, as I took my dog Bella out for a walk, we sat at this local playground. Bella likes to sit here in partial sun and shade, and people watch. Several little girls asked to pet Bella, not believing she was 14 years old. One girl lingered. She was Morena like me, appeared to be 7 years old, and had 3 dogs at home. She had a gentle and calming nature about her as she pet Bella, and asked questions in Spanish. I responded in Spanish. It was one of the few people I have spoken to here this long without being self-conscious of my Spanish proficiency. Her tee shirt had the words enchanting and charrming on it, and it suited her perfectly. After five minutes, she said “Voy a poco jugar ahora.” Translated to “I’m going to play a little now.” Bella and I offered a wave and continued on our walk.
All three instances were brief instances of kindness with strangers, different ages and ethnicities. I do not know any of their names, and will probably not see any of them ever again, but for several brief moments comfort was shared in knowing one wasn’t alone during these times.
“It may not work out how you think it will or how you hope it does. But believe me, it will all work out.”-Ted Lasso
This past week, one of my childhood friends visited me in Malaga. Although we did many of the touristy things one does in Costa del Sol to include the sea, tapas, shopping, and Tinto de Verano, we also binged on two television shows. Both were products of SNL alumni: Girls 5 Eva by Tina Fey and Ted Lasso with Jason Sudekis. Generally it can take me quite a long time to watch television shows or films, as I want to savor them as I do my lattes. But binging on them gives a different perspective.
One can see the clues writers leave to tease viewers from one show to the other. Foreshadowing of what’s to come. But also writers may trick us to believing we know what is next, only to take us through twists and turns as the story unravels. We can embrace the vicissitudes of the hero’s journey, the human journey, through television. Dramedies like Ted Lasso, pull at my heart as one can laugh and weep at all that is offered to you in short segments, episode to episode.
I couldn’t help but think of this as I watched the season (or even series) finale of Ted Lasso yesterday. It was poignant because it was within one day I finished listening to an audiobook and reading a tangible book. Endings were the theme yesterday in all media I was consuming, and I thought how timely this was because I am in a transitional period in my life right now. An ending from one period of life before embarking on another.
Finales of television shows give us a sense of resolve. We feel a sense of closure as reflections are made of how characters and groups have transformed through this time together. The characters are flawed, like all of us are as humans. People trigger and then push each other to grow. Respect is earned through showing up repeatedly for others, dreams are realized, celebrations are embraced collectively, egos are swallowed as one asks for forgiveness. Love shows up in countless ways, that exist beyond romantic relationships. There is a sense of satisfaction when storylines circle around and are completed, and the crescendo has slowed down to a place where one can simply enjoy the vastness of it all.
Finishing Ted Lasso yesterday reminded me of conversations I had with one particular creative client. She came to view different periods of her life when we worked together through the lens of seasons of a television show. They were not marked by years, but experiences. She labeled each season with a theme, noted the lessons learned, characters involved, growth made, and what point would be the end. There was a small sense of admiration for the evolution that occurred and a tiny bit of sadness, but she was more excited of what would be in store for herself next as the main character, who would be in her life, what would be the style of clothing worn, color scheme used, and what metaphorical journey was she about to undertake next.
With clients who you work with for a limited period of time, this is evident. You get glimpses into the moments of their lives, and they give you the backdrop of what has led them there. But the same is true with others. Recently, as I have conversations with friends I haven’t seen for years or caught up with family members, and noticed the same in their stories. I can see the threads and themes in their lives, and how it’s progressed. I witness how they struggled and triumphed and caught glimpses of where they are headed. But sometimes with ourselves, we are so immersed in our own stories and in the head of the character we are playing (ourselves), that we do not see the larger arc. At times we need to step back and see not this one episode we are having difficulty with, but how each episode has been linked to each other. We need to see our lives as the writers of television shows do, and act from that perspective.
I thought back to that one client I worked with and her way of framing the world, as I pondered on my time here in Malaga, or last year in Paris, or all the years in the UK. I’ve had ten seasons of living overseas, and the show at this time is not up for renewal. It’s a series finale. There is sadness there as I reflect on all the players, storylines, and story arcs. And as I sit in this liminal place, I am curious what the next series is that I will embark on as I return to America. How do I want this next part of my life to be?
Where are you in your series of life? What is the theme of this season? Who are the characters? What type of show is this? Where do you want this season to go?
We are both the actor and the writer of our own stories. How do we want it to go. But it’s important to know, there are co-writers that exist on this television show. Yes it’s the other characters in our lives who co-write with us but also a larger entity, whether you call this writer Universe, Divine Light, God, or Mother Earth. We are in constant collaboration, we have free will, endings can always change. You are not a victim of your story, you are a co-writer. Live up to that credit. Maybe even co-write a life that’s worthy of 20 Emmy nominations each season, just like Ted Lasso. You deserve it.
“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.”
Years ago I yearned to be a muse for artists, perhaps this is why I fell for artistic individuals. It didn’t matter if they were painters, writers, or musicians, if they had artistic ability, I was interested. I then began to learn to deepen my own creativity and explore the beauty that existed within.
Numerous paths to art entered my world, such as various forms of dance, writing, collage art, and even the way I chose to dress. With time, I even became a creativity coach to help bring this out in others. I embraced the phrase Frida Kahlo used as an anthem “I am my own muse.” I even got the word “muse” tattooed on my body, as a reminder that I can be my own muse.
And this past week, unknowingly I was one.
After eating lunch at a restaurant in Granada, a woman waved me over. I had noted she had a sketch pad earlier in the hour, but I didn’t think anything of it. She proceeded to show me the drawings she created of me, as I was talking with my friend. I snapped these two photos to capture the moment, and was honored.
She was a fellow tourist, from the UK, exploring Andalucia with her husband. For a moment, she chose to have an artist date, and offered to show me what she completed. We shared brief life bios, and went on about our days. It was a brief but heart warming exchange.
These sometimes serve as the most fascinating parts of travel, happenstance occurrences with strangers. We could impact each other through philosophical conversations, travel tip assistance, or physically helping another with their luggage. Energy is mutually exchanged. Who knows, you may even sometimes serve as another’s muse.
One thing I have appreciated about living in Europe is going to local markets, particularly when the crowds are quiet and the selections are abundant. Yet this week, I went on Saturday midday. On Saturdays, Atarazana market in Malaga is filled with of tourists and family members buying produce for the week. As usual, my favorite stall was full, but I quietly waited my turn in line. When my turn arose, an elder Spanish lady began saying she was before me “Soy proxima.” “I am next,” she said. But both stall workers and me knew this wasn’t the truth. I acted like I didn’t understand what she was saying. I didn’t want to get an attitude or did not have the energy to correct her in Spanish. She complained about me to the other people in line. She continued to complain to the stall owner, repeating his name and saying in Spanish how he is wrong and she was next.
There were many ways he could have reacted. He could have caved to her, as she was probably a more frequent customer than me. She had probably been buying him for years, versus months. He could have argued back with her, using anger against anger. Instead he chose an unthinkable action. He laughed it off, he showed he could win this argument with his jolly nature versus unkind words. He chose to smile instead of sneer.
As I left the scene of the crime, I realized I too had a choice in this moment. I could carry the hostility she threw my way. I could react with frustration at the next person I interacted with. I could ruminate on the frustration of being right, but the fact she still continued to complain about me. I could have exacerbated this issue and generalized how she acted towards me was how all Spanish people behaved. I could have allowed this moment to turn towards enlivening hatred at the experience of being a foreigner living in Spain.
But I chose to live in the way of that jolly food stall owner. I shrugged it off. I admit it wasn’t with enough levity as he did. But if he could let it go, so could I. We are often given examples of negative ways in how to act, negativity is contagious. But so is kindness. This is the reason I created this blog years ago. It only takes a smile, kindness can be just as contagious as negative vibes. I want to emphasize it’s important to witness and catch the moments we go against these tendencies, and shift towards the opportunity of reframe. Teachable opportunities are available for us, if we are willing to humble ourselves, reframe, and learn, even from the local market stall owner. Gracias
On my return flight of my 2 ½ week trip to Italy, I lost my leather bound journal. Actually, I left it on the plane. I didn’t realize this until hours later, when I was at home. And my first thoughts were, I hope the person who finds the journal will be excited and use it.
I had this journal for two years, and recently found it in storage when I was in the states. It was given to me as a birthday gift from my mother, and had an inscription from mother to mother on the front. But the extra special meaning was I took it on my pilgrimage to various Black Madonnas in Italy. Inside the brown leather cover were images of the Black Madonna I collected throughout the week, postcards from various churches. In some ways, it had a dual purpose meaning. It was my biological mother who gave it to me, but the ultimate mother was also gifting it to me.
As I realized I lost it, I wished that whoever finds the journal would find peace and the Black Madonna will watch over them. Maybe this “losing the journal” was a serendipitous event that will bring the finder comfort or joy. Not just in the beauty of the journal, but the images inside.
There were no steamy or juicy secrets written in there. All that was written were reflections and insights gained, potential plans for the future. The rest of the journal had empty pages, futures unwritten. I hope the person who finds it writes in the journal, continues to reflect on their hopes and dreams, and chooses to lean on the Black Madonna for support and guidance.
As I prepare for this next part of my life, I realize I must let go of attachments to things, journals, ideas, and goals. In order for transformations to be made, we must let go and shed old versions of ourselves. In losing this, I am letting go of the old me’s hopes, dreams, and allowing space for the new to enter.
I took the photo above the day before I lost my journal in front of the Black Madonna in Bologna. I spent an hour sitting in front of her, free writing, journaling, and crying. Crowds of people would come in and out, but I remained seated in front of her. In between crying, a stranger looked at me and said “thank you for everything.” We didn’t talk before this or exchange glances. Maybe he just appreciated my energy and devotion. He was dressed in pink and maroon, and thought he was an image or reminder of the divine masculine. And after he said this to me and left the sanctuary, I cried even more. It was a beautiful chance encounter with a stranger that lasted minutes. Therefore, I hope the tears of comfort and realizations blessed in this journal will bring whoever finds it inspiration, joy, and protection.
It Only Takes A Smile 