Being Wanderlust

Wanderlust is not a thing that can be satisfied; it's just a part of who you are. I moved across the country to be closer to family and live in a place that nurtures my soul. That place is Silverton, Oregon.

Winter and spring are dancing now, pushing and pulling one another, bringing wind, rainstorms, and power outage between moments of sunshine. But nothing cuts though the stretches of gray like a road trip to anywhere.

Steve and I hit the road yesterday and drove over to Bend. Sometimes I can't even believe I am saying that .... Anyway, as soon as we got up in altitude just a little bit we were in the countryside with the sun beating down on us. We took route 22 passed Detroit, got on route 20, and stopped in Sisters at our favorite little funky coffee shop and bar that we always stop in, Hop and Brew. We ordered a few cups of coffee that we didn't need and some food. It was good, but I was slightly disappointed that my vegetarian sammie didn't have any cheese, just lettuce and tomato. I'm not a rabbit. Oh well. We arrived in Bend shortly thereafter where we purchased a 1973 Honda CB 750.

Afterward we tried to get some good photographs but a storm rolled in and soon we were caught in heavy rains. A fair amount of snow remained in the pass and the recent fires left the trees looking like matchsticks delicately placed in the white snow. I snapped a picture in my mind.

Being on the road is freeing. Steve and I talked about all the places we want to go and things we want to see. We still haven't given up on that dream. In fact, we spent a lot of time talking about our school bus, Sunshine, and when we are going to get her. She's still back in Virginia. We miss her but we don't have a plan for her yet. We have nowhere to park her here.

On the way back, we heard that someone won the more than $700 million Powerball. We thought about that for a bit. When we passed the Pacific Crest Trailhead again I thought, if anything, I'd rather have less than more. A lot of good could be done with all that money, but I'd never tell anyone I had it. I'm really happy without it, which is good because I almost never play the lottery, so there is no chance for that to happen.

When we got home I felt like my soul had been nurtured by the Mother Nature. Getting out had done me a lot of good. I got back to work researching stuff for a new writing gig. All that late day coffee kicked in at midnight. I got up and finished the article by 6 a.m. this morning. Then climbed back to bed and slept a few morning hours away!

Shape of Sacred Space

I love mornings. But not everyone jumps out of bed invigorated, ready to take on the world. For some, mornings are drudgery. No matter how you feel about mornings, how you approach the day sets the tone for how you go through it.

Earlier this week, I met with a friend to discuss our latest writing projects. Surprisingly, neither of us had anything new to reveal. Neither of us had been able to dedicate time or energy to our craft. We both felt a bit out of sorts but we weren't sure why.

As we pulled the threads to unravel the snags in our feng shui that were inhibiting our writing processes, we began to discuss meditation and sacred rituals that right the mind. I spoke about how prolific I had been when I had hiked the Camino–how walking unlocked the ethereal floodgates for me. I also spoke about how I wasn't doing that anymore.

Then my friend shared a story about an aunt who every morning lights a candle and lays out a sentimental quilt where she sits and completes her morning ritual. Her practice struck me as ingenious not only because it was so beautiful but because the candle also served as a sort of signal to her family that she should not to be interrupted.

It was then that we had a synchronistic epiphany. The vernal equinox was upon us and we each needed to recreate our intentions and recalibrate our morning rituals to be in line with the transition from yin to yang. We took to our notebooks and began to write, creating intention, carving out our morning routines and what we wanted and needed from that sacred time.

"The Shape of Sacred Space," I wrote. I started with the physical–walking, writing, reading—then moved into the abstract: quiet time—little interaction with others. I put limitations on myself too: no social media until I am done with my sacred time. I built upon these concepts and after 10 minutes, I had laid out my new morning intention. I had also identified a few things that I needed to do before bed including when to cut off social media—it's really become an intrusive vermin.

After I had written everything down, I looked at my calendar and the litany of morning distractions heading my way. I would have to be flexible and gentle with myself as I embraced this new morning ritual. I also will be more mindful about scheduling things first thing in the morning.

Yesterday was the first day of my new practice. I completed the things for which I had set an intention: I walked for an hour. I read for 30 minutes. I wrote for 30 minutes. I drank 24 oz. of water before I had coffee. I did not touch social media until after I was done. As a result, I felt a lot less scattered and much more balanced throughout the entire day. I felt calm and peaceful. I was more present for others because I had taken that time to nurture myself. I was productive. Last night I slept well and I woke up this morning early enough to repeat my ritual before anyone else in the house was awake. Lather, rinse, repeat.

What is the shape of your sacred space?

Uncharted Waters: A Different Kind of Fish Story

 
The first time I cast a line into a blue ribbon trout stream, the prospect of catching a fish excited my entire being. I stood in the small river absorbing deeply the smells and sounds surrouning me. The breeze mixed the sweet scents of the trees with a near-by lilac. Water rushed through and around my exposed legs sweeping away my cares and worries as I stood upon a bed of rounded stones smooth beneath my feet. Sunlight caressed my skin, making the cold stream tolerable. The bamboo rod balanced against the weight of the reel perfectly before I tied on a fly. My fingers rubbed gently over the smooth cork that fit naturally in my hand. Each cast was like the stroke of an artist's brush moving across the sky, angling for the perfect moment to present a trout's next meal. Passes were effortless yet strategic, intended to make the presentation irresistible to a fish that could outsmart me with one lousy toss. Once that rainbow jumped and took my fly I was hooked forever. The trout fought vigorously as I reeled it in slowly, patiently carefully, respectfully. I took the trout in my hand, pulled it out of the stream, and removed the barbless hook from its lips. I honored the powerful creature that glowed with colors that I had never seen before. I thanked it for the challenge then released it back into the wild to fight another day.

I have fished many rivers since then. Most of the time I outsmart a fish or two, but occasionally I am the one who is outsmarted. It's not a disappointment when that happens though because it's true what "they" say: A bad day fishing is better than the best day at work!

Catching a rainbow that first time with a fly rod catapulted me into exaltation. It taught me that I was capable. I could cast properly and present a fly so that I could catch a trout. I knew that if I kept at it, I would catch more fish.  

But I have often wondered, What if I hadn't caught anything that first time? Would my experience have been completely different? Would I have given up and never picked up another fly rod?

Our first-time experiences often determine how we feel about something. It takes courage to try new things. It takes even more courage to persevere when things don't work out the way we had envisioned. At least, that has been my experience.

I am a person who meets new adventures with excitement, optimism, and hope. I dream of possibilities and the things that I can achieve when things go right. Positive energy is addictive and attractive.

At the same, I can become discouraged when things don't go as I had hoped. I can give up, listen to self-doubt. I can be paralyzed by fear.

Lately, I have been humbled by the amount of employment rejection letters that I have been racking up from the State of Oregon. One cast after another has yielded zero fish. I get a few looks, but no bites. I can see those damn fish swimming beneath my fly, but they swim away, disinterested. It's evidently time to cast my line in different waters.

Today, I'm fishing in the river of self-employment. I have never fished here before––these waters are uncharted. It's a bit scary and somewhat overwhelming, but the only way I'm going to catch fish is by casting my line in the river over and over again until I present my fly just right and a fish grabs on and doesn't let go. Then, I'll be hooked. Until then, I will persevere.  

Get Your Hygge On!

 
Once again the Nordics are slated to top the World Happiness Report that is scheduled for release later this month. Nordic countries have dominated the playing field for several years, while America continues to fall in the ranks. The Happiness Research Institute, a think tank in Copenhagen, Denmark, conducts the annual assessment and tracks statistical data year to year to identify changes in factors that contribute to greater happiness, or in the unfortunate case of the United States, a decline in happiness.

There are six key variables that determine happiness: income, health life expectancy, social support, freedom, trust (as in the public's perception of corruption in government), and generosity. It should be no surprise that the Nordic countries, which embrace democratic socialist principles, top the list repeatedly. Countries that practice generosity and provide a network of social support and health care services are a lot happier than countries that don't. The 2018 study also concluded that the 10 happiest countries also have the happiest immigrant populations.

I assess that the US will almost certainly continue to fall in the happiness rankings until there is a significant shift in our political landscape. Three key factors that contribute specifically to the decline in happiness in the US are obesity, substance abuse, and depression, according to the 2018 report. Between the inadequate sick care system in the US, the number of corrupt government officials currently under investigation in the US administration, and the assault on and abuse of immigrants seeking sanctuary in the US, it would be illogical to conclude otherwise. However, one can escape this bleak forecast by stealing a page from the Dane's happiness playbook and setting an intention to make happiness a priority.

A few years ago, I learned about hygge, pronounced "hoo-ga", a Danish philosophy of comfort, well-being, and togetherness that plays a central part in Nordic life. Though the English language doesn't have a direct translation for the word, it's about enjoying the simple things in life and getting cozy, like snuggling up with a cup of cocoa on a rainy day.

According to Meik Wiking, CEO of the Happiness Research Institute and author of The Little Book of Hygge, "Hygge is about an atmosphere and an experience. It's all about being with the people we love. A feeling of home. A feeling that we are safe."

It's also about getting out and really enjoying life—exerting ourselves in some type of physical activity like skiing, snowboarding or hiking before coming home and nestling in. Exerting oneself––doing something vigorous—is what makes hygge so wonderful, blissful even.

Recently, I was challenged to create a ritual in my life that honors my ancestors. Being of Scandinavian descent, I see this as a perfect time to "get my hygge on" as a matter of routine and ritual to honor myself and my ancestors and to prioritize my happiness.

March 20 is International Day of Happiness and this year's theme is Happier Together, focusing on what he have in common, rather than what divides us. Apropos, no? There is a whole wide world out there that is celebrating our common humanity. What's more is that you can connect with those people for further inspiration by downloading the Action for Happiness App, which has daily ideas for happier living that you can sign up to receive. How simple is that? If happiness is something that you would like to have more of–and who doesn't?–perhaps a daily notification would be helpful, even if only to remind you how important your happiness is.

Set your intention today to make happiness your priority. Be kind, be grateful. Namaste.

The Art of Being Still

It's been years since I have been so captivated by a book that it calls to me from across the room. Just last week I crawled out of bed at midnight to read Snag in the Weave by LK Hadley, then crawled back in at 2 am because I was too scared to sleep alone. Few authors have captured my attention long enough for me to fall into their adventure—Nicholas Sparks, JK Rowling, and now, LK Hadley.

Today's authors have new competition, and it isn't television or social media—it's our attention deficit addiction. I've observed that since the advent of social media and the 24-hour news cycle, and the incursion of whiplash inducing tweet storms, people—myself included—have struggled to pay attention to any one thing for more than 140 characters worth of time. That's a slight exaggeration of course, but even 90-minute movies and 40-minute television shows have to be that much more compelling to get us to focus without looking at our phones intermittently. We are constantly bombarded with new information flying at us like Hitchcock's birds. I duck and weave, desperately wanting it all to go away and leave me alone, then I feel guilty when I sit still long enough to read a few uninterrupted pages in a book.

In 2015 I wrote Permission to Idle, a blog about the relationship between idleness and productivity. I reflect on it often because I strive to be a productive, guilt-free idler. When I take time to idle, I am exceedingly more productive than I would be otherwise. I proved this to myself during my 500-mile trek across Spain. But where does the guilt come from? My Itty Bitty Shitty Committee? My seemingly inherent belief that productivity means tangible deliverables?

Writing requires commitment, focus, and the time and space to produce. It also includes time to be "idle", mull things over, and read. I have to create space for this to happen otherwise my apparent addiction to information blitzes and distractions undermines any chance I have to develop a consistent stream of conscious from which to draw from.

Relaunching this blog sets a new intention that makes me accountable to others. I need that. I am a person who lets myself off the hook easily when it comes to pretty much everything: diet, exercise, writing time, you name it. I can say I won't eat a doughnut then pass by Top Pot and the idea of not having a doughnut becomes a laughable absurdity. When I am accountable to others, I do better.

Throughout this past week I walked through my days a little more mindful and aware. I paid more attention to ideas that repeated as if they were calling out to me–like Snag in the Weave–calling out ... in the moor ... in the peat ...  to be still.