"You will fall in love with your friends. Deep, passionate love. You will create a second family with them, a kind of tribe that makes you feel less vulnerable. Sometimes our families can’t love us all the time....They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends. They can love you all the time, without judgement. At least the good ones can." - RYAN O'CONNELL When I was 9 years old I met a tiny, fair skinned girl with big, chunky brown bangs. We played in my tree house, spied on my neighbors and picked names for the monkey she was one day going to own together. We were fast friends.
When I was 17 years old this tiny, fair skinned girl (with the slightly less chunky brown bangs) and I sat on the floor of her room outlining cheerleading formations for the next game. We chatted daily as MissT148 and Sunnydaze0814 and we shared mocktini's on Sunday nights while watching Sex and the City in my living room. When I was 19 years old and attending a different school from my dear friend our daily chats became a deeply appreciated and uplifting source of happiness and security. It was during these 4 years spent apart at our respective Universities that our already 10 years of friendship went from being easy and light to...well, necessary. It's one of my favorite things about our friendship--having the history in meeting as kids, but not discovering our soul mate status until the cusp of adulthood. From 23 until pretty much the present moment my friend has stood by my side as I've clumsily navigated uncharted matters of the heart. She has patiently listened for countless hours; she has been a source of belly aching laughs and judgment free advice so good you'd think she was either a) living inside my head or b) secretly holding multiple degrees in psychology. She has never stopped loving me, supporting me, encouraging me. No matter what. I recognize that "I don't know what I'd do without you" is a tad generic and over used. But A, I say this from the most humble and authentic part of my soul: I don't think I would have made it thru without you. Since moving to California I have encountered a number of bright, wonderful women who have confessed in one way or another that they've never had a real "best friend". This concept is so foreign to me and breaks my heart each time I hear it. Having the best friend that I do in you has so profoundly impacted my life and my spirit that I cannot imagine another person existing without that same connection. Life would just be...less. In so very many areas, it would be less. People will learn about love from many different sources. They will learn from parents and siblings, friends and strangers, first crushes and last broken hearts. But me? I know what real love is because of you, A. I know about the kind of love that is not an obligation but a true commitment and choice made joyfully, patiently and generously every day. This is something that I deeply want for you to know--for as long as you'll let me, I whole heartedly choose to love you back. You are one of the good ones, birthday girl, and I am so proud to be your best friend--it is a genuine honor. You are kind and good to the core; you are thoughtful and playful and pure sunshine. You are my sister and my tribe. Thank you for being exactly who you are and for loving me exactly as I am. Cheers to you and 28 years of spreading so much light--Happy Birthday, bestie! Always, T
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I took a walk to a nearby park today to sit in the sun for a few moments, away from my desk, away from the headache-inducing-if-I-stare-too-long monitor light.
I lay down on a hill, kicked off my heels and silenced my phone. I watched a little girl--4, 5 years old--run barefoot in the surprisingly plush grass against a cityscape backdrop. I watched as she became preoccupied with observing a small butterfly hop from wildflower to wildflower. I watched as she watched; eyes wide with wonder, mouth poised in a permanent "oooh" shape. I watched as her face lit up with genuine delight each time the butterfly moved closer to her "hiding" spot; as she giggled and tried to nestle even closer to the earth. I watched as she squealed and looked back at her mother as if to say "can you believe what we're seeing?!" when the butterfly finally fluttered above her head; as if the flight of this simple bug was the highlight of her entire day. I watched this scene on a sunny hill in the park today, away from my desk and my headache inducing monitor light and all I could think was Damn. When did this stop being the highlights of our days, too? I got "hot mama", "really nice", "so amazing" and "lovely" compliments from co-workers today...not a half bad start to the weekend! My secret to putting together this hipster-Russian-ballerina look? Red lipstick and not having any other clean clothes :-/ Happy Friday!
By Kim W. Let's talk about what's left when you die. Sounds like a blast, right? Trust me. We'll have fun. Physically, what's left is an obituary and a funeral. Unless you're a rockstar, or globally influential, in which case you may expect flowers along a fence somewhere. And unless I really get moving on solving that water crisis in Africa, I'm probably stuck with option one. If I were hit by a bus today, my obituary would really sound pretty lame. Here goes, with some redactions because you, dear reader, and I, are not all that close yet: Kimberly [Middle Name] [Last Name] of San Francisco, California, passed away Friday August 10th at the age of 28. She was born in California to parents [Mama Fantastique] and [The Captain of Righteousness]. She is survived by her husband [Dr. MoneyPants]. Kimberly studied Theater and French at Arizona State and worked at [Bad Ass Startup]. Her hobbies included flying airplanes, circus arts, and injuring herself while trying to run. She is survived by her husband, her brother, her parents, and a rather small extended family. Now, aside from a rather unusual list of hobbies, it sure doesn't look like I accomplished much. When I started thinking about this, my immediate reaction was, "Well, one day I'll have babies, at least! People who make children can't be wastes of space! That will validate my existence!". Nope: Rationalization Denied. Let's take this thought experiment even farther. Let's say I'm barren so I can't produce more of me, and maybe I break my wrists and can never type again, so I can't work. Oh, and my husband dumps me, just to round out the picture. What am I left with? That's where this shit gets tricky. When we derive all our value from the next possession or accomplishment or accolade, we invalidate our day to day. If you say, I won’t be happy until I do/get X, then what happens if you never do *it*? Or, if you do get *it*, and you still feel empty? As my new friend Jill says: you're just moving the goalpost. So let's think about the other thing left when you die: the funeral. I went to a wedding once where the bridesmaids and groomsmen couldn't think of anything to say about the couple that wasn't a fact you could look up in a phone book. "She is a receptionist. He is a salesman. They are married. Today is Saturday". Nouns everywhere. It was horribly depressing because there was no connection between the people who were supposed to be their nearest and dearest. This is what I fear my friends will say about me when I die and it scares the shit out of me. "She was Kim. Now she is dead. Her dog is cute." But really, is it my fault they've got nothing to say about me? After all, I'm a barren, deformed, trapeze artist spinster. Kind of a shitty deck to be dealt, right? Wrong-o-a-go-go. What if this barren, deformed, trapeze artist spinster was Trish. Or my fabulous mother-in-law (yes, she's fabulous, I'm not kidding). Or EJ, my friend from circus who’s broken his back twice and is way better at life and trapeze than I’ll ever be. Or any of the people you meet in this world who truly affect you. If you wiped out all of those people's 'accomplishments' and threw their funeral today, everyone they know would stand up and say how they were impacted by that person's life. It's not about the nouns. It's about the verbs. I don't want to people to say, "Kim was funny", I want them to say, "We laughed together". Not "She was smart" but "We learned from eachother". Not "She was an office manager", but "Damn, girl could stock a mean fridge". This is how I want to live my life. Engaging in, interacting with, and enjoying as much as I can of the day to day experiences, and the people that fill them. Are you having fun yet? The depressing talk of obituaries and maimed circus freaks didn't do it for you? Damn. Then you're probably not invited to my funeral. Unless of course, you want to say something extremely flattering. Then you’re in. I’m not above hiding plants at the audience of my own funeral. -------------- In all seriousness, this post was inspired by the recent death of my cousin Megan who died at the age of 26. She’d checked the donation box on her license, but her family was unsure of her wishes and almost missed out on the chance to donate her organs. But they did choose to donate, and out of tragedy comes at least five people who will be eternally grateful for her gift. Please take a moment to tell your family your wishes! Dear God, in my next life as a 20-something girl I'd like to come back with hair like hers...
Please and thank you.
Frank: converting oxygen to co2 is sooo rad
sometimes little brothers just have the best advice. Haven't bought a new pair of sneakers in 4 years. Pretty pumped about these guys. Anybody wanna race me? :)
Taking a break from dress shopping with the beautiful bride to share some mimosas....have you ever seen a better champagne to OJ ratio?! This is not our waitress' first rodeo...
There's a great staircase analogy in the coaching world (I've heard it from a number of counselors, teachers and therapists over the years--definitely can't take credit for this one) that pertains to making moves towards achieving our goals. Essentially, if we think of our desires--career, personal, health, relationship, etc--in terms of this staircase, our final stage of "victory" or "success" lies at the very top. This is a pretty all around applicable image, I think. Get such-and-such degree. Achieve this-and-that professionally. Accomplish a-and-b physically. Get the f over so-and-so already. It's particularly applicable because, as we peer up from the bottom of the stairs, the climb can seem so daunting that we falter in mustering the courage to begin our journeys. Sadly, we sometimes feel so discouraged by this staircase that we never even begin at all. We sit at the bottom, chin in our hands, bah-humbug, boo-hiss and coulda-shoulda-woulda-if-only'ing. The second part of the analogy...the part that aims to give us hope and encouragement...tells us to stop staring at the top. Stop counting the steps. Stop measuring your perceived strength against the amount of energy it may or may not take to finish the climb. The second part of the analogy tells us to simply look at the very first step. This is far more manageable. This, my dear friends, is a most excellent step to take. I have 2 small additions to this analogy: 1. Utilize the railing. There is never any shame in reaching out for assistance when it comes to finishing, completing, arriving at a point that is deeply important to us. Asking for help can be humbling (I am still learning how to gracefully do this daily), but it can also be just the ticket to boosting us up one step closer to success. Be willing to give up a bit of control, Miss/Mr. Independent. The railing is there for a reason. Let it help you! 2. Consider the Harry Potter Grand Staircase. These stairs, located within the ever so magical walls of Hogwarts, had a knack for moving around the chamber. They usually began to shift when a student was walking up one of them and I love this imagery in relation to this topic. How often in our lives have dreams, priorities or goals changed once we've started down a path? The truth is we don't know how our staircase may shift during the process and how, in response, it may also shift our perspectives. The best we can do is simply trust and be open to change; the best we can do is not let our doubts cause us to miss out on the adventure altogether. Because really, the adventure is what it's all about. Yesterday I scheduled a call for next week with a member of the admissions team for the Institute of Integrative Nutrition. I officially took the first step towards getting certified in Health and Wellness Coaching. Phew. The funny thing? Even this teeny step felt a bit daunting to me. So much so, in fact, that I actually declined the "contact me now" option and scheduled the call for Monday, thinking to myself OK OK...I'll be mentally ready by then...I just need a few more days... Welp, the Universe apparently had other plans. About 2 minutes after hitting "submit" I received a call from someone on the admissions team. The young lady had missed the note requesting a call next week and instead carpe diem'ed the crap outta my submission and totally put into motion the course of my what's next. Another phone call a few hours later with a current student (who ever so kindly told me "I can feel your positive energy through the phone! I am SO excited for you!") and I am finalizing my plans as we speak. Stop staring all the way to the top, shaking your head, sighing with pre-grets (side note: pre-grets are the things we regret before we even do them). Stop giving yourself a timeline based on how long others feel you should take to arrive at the top. This is your climb. This is your pace. Be eternally patient with yourself. Be in awe of it, yes. Let it make your pulse race with excitement to think and dream about. But don't let the unknowns of the climb completely discourage you; never, as I like to say, let the dream die in the details. There is much about my future career that still remains a mystery to me and that is truly OK because I can officially look down and say I took the first step. A most excellent step to take. love and light, Trish |
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