7am on a Saturday, and my upstairs neighbor decides it is the perfect time to move out.
7am on a Saturday, and her hired help decides slam, boom, crash, scrape to the extent it shakes my window panes is the most efficient way to get the job done. 7am on a Saturday, and me--in a ratty tank top, flannel pj pants recently shrunk in the drier thus exposing my ankles in an Urkle-awkward sort of way, hair a mess atop my head and eyes squinted from lack of visual aid in the form of contacts or glasses--storming up the stairs to scratchy voice preach c'mon man! I know you gotta get your shit done, I respect that. But it's 7am on a Saturday and you are effing killin me. For the record, I'm not proud of the effing part. 7am Trish is more Jersey than California, it seems. But 7am on a Saturday is most definitely meant for sleepy time...no? I've been drawn to time lately. Heavily focused on scheduling, planning, squeezing it all in and getting it all done by x, y, z time frames. A lot of this is natural, I think; my work requires a high degree of time based organization from me and being one half of a long distance duo also demands (politely requests, really) some scheduling prowess. Having downloaded Mitch Albom's book The Time Keeper several months ago and only cracking it open (or rather, Kindle firing it up) this weekend I noticed how much the notion, concept, reality of time had been cropping up for me. For example, while taking a break from The Time Keeper, I re-opened Danielle Laporte's book The Fire Starter Sessions (highly, highly recommended to anyone in a creative funk) right to the chapter entitled "Calling All Sovereigns of Time!". After re-reading this section I then heard my phone alarm go off with a reminder, a 2013 "get more organized" tactic. Despite time's fresh insistence on almost overwhelming my days, Friday after work I settled into my home, my sacred space, and barely budged the whole weekend. I read and read and read. I took a de-tox bubble bath: Epsom salts, baking powder, apple cider vinegar and all natural lavender bubble-makin-to-the-max soap...which, according to B, sounds "stanky". But I assure you, it is heaven for your skin and soul. I cooked a healthy dinner for one of tilapia and steamed vegetables. I met a friend for a nourishing breakfast and heart to heart. I cherished my home, my life. I rested. I functioned at a pace very much unlike my normal one. Because that's how time needed to move for me. None of my musings during this quiet, self imposed time-out (pun intended) were groundbreaking: As kids, we wish for time to speed up. As adults, we so often ache for it to slow down. And if we are very lucky, we can sometimes be exactly where we are with no wish for either. This in-the-moment breath is what I like to call the sweet spot. It is where I most desire to be. Over breakfast yesterday my darling Kimmie and I discussed the beauty and bounty in holding space. I was so happy to hear about her Oprah a-ha moment during the holidays, which gloriously shed new light on what, exactly, holding this space entails. Breathing room, openness, flow, acceptance, peace, strength, flexibility...I think it can mean a lot of different things for people. I think it can change with us; grow with us. But it is so, so valuable to hold it for ourselves and for others. Because the sweetest of sweet spots? This lies in both space and time. In the balance. No more deep rooted worries over what will be. No more sweat filled anxieties over what has been. A respect for here, now. An appreciation. Trusting the process and all that jazz. "It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be." -The Time Keeper ...including moving out at 7am on Saturday, I (begrudgingly) suppose. Happy Monday, Friends :) In Gratitude, Trish
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Sometimes this really magical thing happens where, after a very authentic period of time with someone you love and appreciate, even just a brief breakfast date, you suddenly feel very much back in the flow. And the Universe sends a few more magical moments right afterward to kinda say hey, kid, it's all good. I got your back. You are safe and loved and worthy of both. Like an out of nowhere text on your walk home from a good, loving man who makes your spirit feel huge. And then the song to play first on iTunes once you are back, that is the perfect softness for your quiet space and lyrically feels fitting for the broken part of you still processing what now?
Sometimes this really magical thing happens, when we hold space for one another. So, that's where I am. And I am thankful for it. Our beautiful yoga teacher, Lindsay, quoted this at the end of our practice on Wednesday and it super resonated with me...especially as I begin to close the chapter of 2012 and am warming up to 2013 (it's fairly snuggly thus far). So often I find myself (and witness my friends) stuck in a loop of trying, trying, trying. While I am big believer in never giving up on certain things, I have also begun to explore the value in giving in--into the moment, into the emotion, into simply being. Or perhaps even surrendering, in order to fully be free.
"You find your path not by thinking, feeling or doing but by surrendering. Surrender reveals the impulses of spirit beneath the mask of ego." - Deepak Chopra love and light, Trish 2013 will be.... (cue manifesting mojo music).... A whirlwind. Goal oriented. Calm and quiet, whenever possible. The kind you would find at these places. Creating space for calm and quiet, even when it seems impossible. Full of writing. Simplifying. Back to the basics. With a dash of luxury. Inspiration. New skills. Inevitable failures. Seeing the lessons. Trying again. Beaches, beaches, beaches. Wicked tans. Heart to hearts. Cuddling. Hugs. (watch out, friends.) Organizing. Then accepting the mess. Adventures across the globe. (my passport is s0 giddy.) Photographs of it all. But remembering to be present. Letting go of things...or people...that no longer serve me. Even if it hurts. Because after all; let go or be dragged. Authenticity, regardless of outside opinions. See ya, negativity. Whipping up tasty new creations in the kitchen. Preferably foods that nourish. Scratch that. Preferably foods that are edible. Yoga. Meditation. Kindness. Connection. Exploring the possibilities in being a Joyologist. Possibilities in general. California dreaming. Love. So, so much love. What will your 2013 look like? In Gratitude, Trish
Guest Post by Kim Walker
Last week I went surfing with my husband and his family. For three days, I followed my normal surfing routine: fight through the breaking inside waves, make it outside to safety, catch my breath, pee (come on, it’s cold) and then sit on my freezing butt for hours, too intimidated to actually take off on any waves. Then, on the fourth day, something magical happened. The sun came out, the windchill died down, the waves got a bit smaller and a pod of 20 or so dolphins surfed alongside us. There were even baby dolphins. I was beside myself with glee. Surfing was forgotten, to be replaced with high pitched joy shrieks and sad attempts at dolphin noises. None of this was any surprise to my family. I love dolphins. Hard. This is not the first time I’ve had a complete mental breakdown in the face of dolphins. Growing up, I only had one stuffed animal, my dolphin Dexter. We went whale watching a few years ago, and no whales showed up. We prowled the bay for hours to no avail. Towards the end of the tour, a pod of dolphins briefly shadowed our boat and for me the trip was not just saved, but far better than the original plan. I babbled, “Look at the pretties! We are friends!”. I’m very in touch with my inner child, or at least my inner Lennie Small. This past week I’ve spent more time coloring with my five year old niece than interacting with the grown ups. I keep trying to tell the grown ups that my niece and I are not that different. I’m obsessed with cute animals, I prefer to talk about the latest Disney princess, and I’ll take a piggy back ride over walking any day. Now, before you jump ahead and say that this is a good thing, that I have a healthy sense of childlike wonder and my youthful spirit will serve me well in adult life, remember the other common characteristics of a five year old. I’m not good at sharing, I pick on my little brother, and I can throw a mean tantrum. Just today I pitched a total toddler fit. Complete with stomping feet and whiny whines. I wanted to go for a run but I couldn’t find the right sports bra. Of course, this couldn’t possibly be a weird coincidence. Everyone was out to get me, someone hid my sports bra maliciously and my husband didn’t love me because he wasn’t helping me find it. He tried in every rational way to comfort me and I bitched so loudly that he actually had to say, “Hey, is yelling in my ear very nice?” You might say that it’s normal to get frustrated every now and then, but here’s what’s so childlike about my fits. If someone handed me the missing bra in the middle of my tantrum, I still wouldn’t have felt better. If it was all about the missing item, I could have said to myself, “It’s just a sports bra, it’s probably just fallen behind the bed, and if not, you can buy another one, insert reasonable rational logical good sense here”. But not all tantrums are created equal. Sometimes the toddler is screaming about a missing lincoln log, but what she really needs is a nap, or lunch, or any number of non-environmental factors. I was saying I was mad about the bra, but really, I was frustrated because the time spent looking for it made me feel late and rushed, which makes me feel out of control and uncomfortable. I only felt better when I stopped thinking about the stupid bra and starting thinking about what was really bothering me. Then there was room for reason and sense to enter the picture. I could relax and accept that this wasn’t a situation I could or should control. So the next time I’m behaving like a little kid, I’m going to treat myself like a little kid. Instead of listening to whatever it is I’m squawking about, I’m going to run a checklist. Are my basic needs met? Do I need a nap, a snack, or a diaper change? Are my emotional needs met? Am I frustrated, scared, lonely, sad, jealous, overwhelmed? Then I can snap out of five year old mode and back into grown up mode. When I see dolphins, I fully indulge my joyful inner child. I let her run amok and it’s probably really good for me (and very high-pitched for everyone else.) When I get overwhelmed, indulging that cranky inner child can feel good, for a bit. But then it’s time to put on my grown-up hat, run the checklist, and do what it takes to snap out of it. Ideally, snapping out of it would involve a dolphin encounter, but this may not be practical in day to day life. In case of emergency when no dolphins are present (rare, I know) a deep breath or a cookie will just have to do. _____________________________________________________________ Editor's note: One of my most favorite things about Kim is her shining, loving, playful inner child and one of my most favorite parts about our friendship is how she generously leaves space for me to unleash mine, too. If allowing her child-like curiosity, sense of wonder and appreciation for a side of silly to come out means occasionally she also melts down like one, I vote for letting her be exactly who she is. And maybe always keeping a cookie on hand ;) Love you, Kimmie! The first few months of riding the bus to and from work in the heart of San Francisco I was really bad at it, especially if I had to stand...which was almost always.
All of my muscles would tense. I would attempt an awkward stance of legs spread just a little too wide in order to ensure better balance. I could never seem to figure out the flow of the stop, start, stop, start. And I would flush with embarrassment each time the bus lurched one direction and my body another. But today I realized, just as we were coming up to my stop, I was perfectly, naturally, effortlessly in sync with the bus. I wasn't tense. My mind was wandering. No headphones, email, Kindle to interrupt my quiet, mental meditation, standing ride. I didn't have to think about balance. I was balance. I'm not sure when this transition from uber awkward/self conscious to freely flowing with the motion of the Muni happened, and I'm not sure why I felt it was necessary to share it with you all here (maybe because it's all my post holiday brain can manage?), but I was...am...so pleased to have noticed it this morning. Cheers to the flow. In Gratitude, Trish B's first ever Broadway show (and my sweet, thoughtful Christmas gift from him) was a success! Elf was adorable and funny, light hearted and good old fashioned musical theater entertainment. We were fortunate enough to catch Wayne Knight (best known for his portrayal of the creepy and curmudgeon postal service worker, Newman, on Seinfeld) as Santa in the show, which was both a surprise and quite a treat. I pinpointed his voice right off the bat! My date was also pretty adorable in his late grandfather's sweater, his favorite winter piece :) I mean c'mon, you know this kinda thing tugs on my sentimental heart strings.... After hopping out of our cab home about a block away from my coworker's apartment (huge thank you to K for her super generous hospitality!!! Your digs are as lovely and charming as you!) B noticed this brilliantly decorated restaurant window on the corner. Even though we were both fairly tired, we couldn't resist popping in for a glass of wine to check out the delightfully twinkle-lit decor. The inside was so cozy and festive I felt like I had been pushed back to Christmas Eve! According to the bar tender, this set up takes the establishment 6 weeks to complete. Holy garland.... The night was a perfect way to officially close the Christmas season as well as wrap up my wonderful stay in the east (insert mixed emotions about heading west here...) See ya on the left, friends. In Gratitude, Trish 2012 was... Transformative. Healing. Exciting, pulse racing, sometimes anxiety ridden. And yet, incredibly calming. Airplanes, beaches, exotic lands. Simple courage. Complete cowardice forcing bravery into action. Seeing "I can't" 's as really "I am unwilling to try" 's. Then giving it a try. Failing. Eh, we'll get em next time. Stretching beyond comfort zones. Space. Glorious space. Deep breaths. Minor freak outs. Followed by deep breaths. Yoga. Meditating. Generosity. Joyology. (best.job.ever.) Moving forward. Forgiveness. Friendships made. Friendships tested. Friendships solidified. Loved ones battling cancer. Loved ones beating cancer. (hell yea). Old crushes unexpectedly returning. Old crushes unexpectedly, but oh so wonderfully, turning into new love. (blush) New love busting the gates wide open; challenging, pushing, accommodating, growing and adventuring. Does it get any better than adventuring with crushes? Patience, little lady. Learning to trust the process. Then learning to trust it some more. Dancing. So, so much dancing. Laughing, singing, playing. And of course, heart on my sleeve crying. Ah well. 2012. Damn, what a year. In Gratitude, Trish |
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