Three Words

I know better. Really, I do. And yet--I blame myself. I knew we weren't meant to be back in 1999 when we first met. Kind of like I knew I shouldn't have enrolled in that AP English class in high school. But I can play a good game, talk a good talk. I get my way, and for a moment, I think I'm winning. It looks like I'm winning. But I'm wishing I had the courage to speak up and step down. To tell the truth. Hey, this doesn't feel right.

I loved you for your commitment to your left-of-center beliefs and your passion and outspokenness about all sorts of things. I loved you for being one of a kind. A dramatic, abstract piece of art that I wanted so badly to comprehend. I wanted to be more like you: fervent, brazen, steadfast. And sometimes I was--and sometimes I wasn't. And it was those times that I wasn't when I felt like I was in over my head. Like Mrs. Whoever had just assigned a character analysis of Tess of the d'Urbervilles and all I can come up with is "Tess is a pretty name." But mixed in with these feelings of inadequacy were countless periods of growth, too. That's life outside the comfort zone.

As I count the growing ripples between "old us" and "new us," I am wrestling with a way to define the unquestionable love I felt for you. I loved love you with my soul, but I don't think I was ever able to fully put my heart into it. I looked to you on so many occasions to "fix" my feelings with those three words--and you couldn't either. It saddens me to admit that I loved without my heart--and perhaps it hurts you to know it. Or maybe you agree.

But there is something so liberating about walking away from that abstract piece of art or putting down that book full of impossible prose. Isn't that what the expression "something for everybody" is all about? I'm grateful to live in a world where all these differences exist, but I think I now have a better idea of what will make my heart sing--and that's the direction I'm headed.

Soundtrack: "I and Love and You," by the Avett Brothers

After the Storm

Seven days out . . . I don't hate you for disrupting my life. For forcing me out of my comfort zone. Making me change gears. No, you're teaching me to love myself first. To prioritize my happiness. To chase my dreams. To give and receive truly, madly, gorgeous love. To find my cheeks. To reignite my spark. To be authentically me.

Change is hard--physically and mentally. But you've given me a gift. I will treasure it. I will grow. I will move forward and become an even more splendid, desirable, enriched version of me. I am finding myself, starting now.

I've been feeling lost, but not sure where to start, what direction to turn, which step to take. You found me spinning and said, "Here, this direction. I know it will be hard, but here is where you need to put your foot. It may feel like it is filled with lead, but rest assured, the other foot will follow. And I know you can't comprehend it right now, but eventually this will feel really good. So right. Liberating. You'll be scaling this wall in no time, but for now you've just got to trust me--and trust yourself, too. I've got your back. I'm holding your hand. You may not see me, but I'm there. Always have been, always will be. But you have to trust. It's through these cracks that the light shines in."

Soundtrack: "After the Storm," by Mumford & Sons

Gratitude Roundup: Summer Lovin’

Alas, (not to be confused with  “at last”) it’s fall. Sweaters and pumpkin spice lattes are just around the bend. Scarves, too. (I love scarves!) And even though the calendar still says we have two more weeks of summer, I’ll always associate September 1 with fall’s unofficial start. Maybe it’s the latent meteorologist in me . . .

But before I usher in autumn, I must pay homage it its spunky little sister. This year’s summer was filled with things to love, both big and small. Such as: 

• Park trips aplenty with the pups and my beloved
• My best pal moving back east
• An indulgent, two-hour yin + vinyasa workshop with YogaThree’s Chanel Luck and Bonnie Argo
• Upleveling my life with creativity coach extraordinaire, Christine Kane
• An outdoor yoga class in the DeCordova sculpture park
• Learning how to hold ’em and fold ’em
• A new car (after a year-plus of being a one-car family)
• Hosting a fancy-pants dinner party at the Liberty Hotel (even though the hotel lost our flowers)
• My hair got crazy long
• Perfecting the art of cold-brewed iced coffee (thanks to smallnotebook)
• Front-row seats to see Willie Nelson at the House of Blues (and access, to the fancy-pants Foundation Lounge)
• Laughing in yoga classes with Boston’s omgal, Rebecca
• Cupcakes and iced coffee on the porch of a yellow Victorian with my best pal
• Discovering lovely, serene sittin’ spots around town
• Getting my geek on with this uber-addictive card game
• Digging my toes in the sand while sitting beneath my beach umbrella
• Taking lunchtime walks and snapping photos (like the one above) on my cell phone
• Falling in love with croonsmith Ray LaMontagne
• Playing bocce (win!) and mini golf (let’s not talk about that score)
• A leisurely, cloudy morning spent at a harborside coffee shop (with a new notebook in tow)
• A foodie gift bag from a friend, which included the most lovely jar of dandelion honey from Italy
• Trying new flavors at the ice cream stand up the street from my house (graham central—yum!)
• Eating raspberries in the parking lot at Russell Orchards, fresh from the field, still warm from the sun

I’m a simple pleasures kinda gal. Sure, a week on an island would have been lovely. But my memory of those raspberries is priceless . . .

"That much gathers more is true on every plane of existence."                                                                     --Charles Haanel

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because, so often, the little things can add up to something spectacular. 

Putting Gratitude Into Perspective

I have a to-do list that's a mile and a half long--and an I want to-do list twice that length. I have lists at work and and at home, about the pets, about my writing, and about yoga. About decluttering and simplifying. Healthy stuff, us time, the holidays, and volunteering. As a result, I start a lot of sentences with the words "I have to."

More often than not, Andrew corrects me, saying "No, you get to."

Touche, my dear.

With a simple switch of a word--I get to vs. I have to--suddenly the to-do lists seem less overwhelming. Gratitude replaces obligation. It's all about perspective.

Getting in the gratitude habit For as long as I can remember in my adult years, the period between Thanksgiving and Christmas has been a stressful time, complete with feelings of not living up to the stereotypical and commercial expectations. Blech. Totally defeating the spirit of the season, right?

Between now and Christmas--and hopefully long beyond--it is my wish to take time each day to focus on all that I have to be grateful for. All that I get to do. All the good that exists in our world. And all that I already have.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (Image courtesy of allyaubry via Creative Commons.)

Ice Cream Cones Are Eco-Friendly (and Other Thoughts on Precycling)

Think before you spend. I've heard it before, a thousand times over, and I bet you have, too: this concept of pausing before making a purchase in order to avoid buyer's remorse.

A couple of weeks ago, while flipping through an issue of TIME, I came across a word that puts a new spin on this old adage. Have you heard of precycling?

Simply put, precycling is a way of reducing waste by limiting consumption. But it's not just a way of saying, "Hey, don't buy that." Rather, precycling encourages you to consider the packaging whenever possible and make the most environmentally responsible choice. Let's take ice cream as an example:

You're next in line at your favorite ice cream shop and have your heart set on some cool, creamy hazelnut. "Cup or cone?" the guy behind the counter asks you. Assuming the temperature is not in the triple digits and you're not going to be walking along cobblestone streets in high heels, you go with the cone for its edible receptacle. No paper or (gasp!) Styrofoam cup, no spoon, no straw, no lid. Just a little, biodegradable paper wrapper.

There are countless (easy!) ways to bring a precycling mindset into your daily life:

• Bring a travel mug with you to the coffee shop (or take a seat and enjoy your java in a ceramic mug)
• Buy the whole head of romaine lettuce rather than a cellophane sack of pre-cut leaves
• Squeeze your own orange juice (so much better than the stuff in a carton)
• Use the reverse side of your print-outs as scrap paper rather than buy a new notebook
• Say no to paper napkins, plastic forks, and wooden chopsticks with your take-out (You do have your own travel utensils, right?)
• Choose bar soap over a plastic bottle of shower gel

Maybe, like me, you're already an avid precycler and didn't even realize it. Just having a name to put to it makes it even easier to think of all the ways you can reduce excess waste or increase the return on your original investment. Really, the opportunities are endless.

What environmentally minded, economical changes have you made in your own life recently? Please, do tell. It's the little things, I believe, that really add up!

P.S. Speaking of little changes, I highly recommend Vanessa Farquharson's blog, Green as a Thistle,  for oodles of inspiring eco-minded things you can do to greenify your life--including sleeping naked. Check it out.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more. (Image courtesy of mollypop via Creative Commons.)

The Yellow Handbag

I was bad. A few weeks ago, I splurged on a new handbag. A cheerful, yellow handbag. Of course, I didn't really need for a new handbag. Nor was it in the budget. But it was on sale. And did I mention, yellow? I picked the handbag up off the shelf--the only one of its size, shape, and color--and draped it over my shoulder while posing in front of a full-length mirror. The image reflected back to me was summery and bright. Exactly what I was craving after this June's never-ending rain. Exactly what I was craving after so many months of being extra mindful of our expenses. I deserved it. Woozy with want, that bag was mine.

At home, I tucked my timeless old leather Coach bags into the closet, vowing to make the most of my new purchase. From here until Labor Day, it would be my go-to bag. The following day, with my cell phone, lip gloss, notebook, sunglasses, pens, and calendar all in place, I carried the bag with me to work--along with a whole lot of buyer's remorse.

What was I thinking?

Money aside, I had just willingly brought a new piece of unnecessary clutter into our home. A cardinal sin of good karma housekeeping. Plus, frivolous purchases are so last year.

Generous return policies certainly help, but I believe that saying no at the cash register--or, better yet, before even getting to the cash register--is the key to living a clutter-free life. It's not always easy to stand by that belief--but returning the bag (and the money to my wallet) feels like a win.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.

Related posts: Plenty Is a Mindset The Haves and the Have Nots

A Permanent Vacation

Today is the first official day of my staycation, and I'm wrapping up the day with a glass of muscat that has been sitting in my wine rack for far too long. After all, I'm on vacation--so why not celebrate a little, right? It has been a long, leisurely day, complete with a yoga class, stroll through Boston's Public Garden, an iced Americano, a visit to a local day spa, lunch & dinner on my patio, and now a glass of dessert wine. [Edit: Add in a cup of vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles.]

All that leisurely goodness has got me thinking: What if every day could be a vacation day? Would it lose its specialness? Shouldn't every day be special? Instead, we (read: I) seemingly trudge through our days. It's almost Friday. It's almost 5 o'clock. Blech. Enough.

So, what is it that I love most about vacations?

• The anticipation of all that lies ahead
• New sights, sounds, and experiences
• Good food
• Good company
• Traveling lightly (i.e., having occasions to wear all of my shoes)

While I may not be able to hang out in Sonoma, attend yoga camp, or dine at Henrietta's  Table every day, I  can certainly cultivate that same feeling of pure enjoyment, of having everything I want--and everything I need. While my everyday life may not be packed with as many leisurely activities as today, with a little extra awareness and a shift in perspective, even the seemngly mundane can be fabulous.

A former yoga teacher of mine lives by a similar philosophy where every day and every thing is The Best. The best sunset ever. The best strawberry ever. The best roll of paper towels ever. Truthfully, we all know that not everything can be that rosy all the time, but just putting your mind in glass-completely-full perspective is 90% of the battle. Absorbtion comes with time--and practice.

Wouldn't you like to go on a permanent vacation?

You can! You know that fancy bar of soap in your linen closet? Unwrap it, set it out next to the sink in a pretty little dish, and enjoy its triple-milled bubbles and French lavender aroma. Burn that decorative candle. Wear that fancy perfume or pair of earings. Take lots of photos. Sit on a park bench and soak in the sights. Savor dessert. Uncork that old bottle of dessert wine.

What are you waiting for?

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.

Plenty Is a Mindset

We live in a culture of wants. It's no secret. Everywhere you look, you see covetable stuff. Shiny stuff. Pretty stuff. Fancy stuff. Cool stuff. I admit, I like stuff; however, I am also overwhelmed by it all.

The first thing I vividly remember wanting--with every pleading fiber of my nine-year-old self--was a pair of Nike sneakers. Ones with a lavender swoosh, like Amy Gardner's. I also wanted a baseball tee shirt with a silk-screened unicorn on the front and my name in fuzzy letters on the back. And a Cabbage Patch Kid (and another Cabbage Patch Kid). And let's not forget the Hello Kitty erasers and scratch-and-sniff stickers. I got all of those things, and pretty much everything else I've wanted for over the years.

Whoop de doo.

Want is an insatiably hungry beast. It took me a good, long time to realize all that stuff just gets in the way of truly living. My happiness has little to do with designer handbags or $200 jeans or a yoga wardrobe full of Lululemon gear. I am more than the sum of my possessions--and you are, too.

Last weekend I watched Into the Wild, and the message has been haunting me ever since: stuff does not equal happiness. As circumstance would have it, I've been a student of this philosophy for the last six months. While I would give anything not to be in this situation, it is perhaps the most valuable lesson I've ever learned, distinguishing want vs. need.

"Until you have it all you won't be free."                                                                                                                                                -- "Society" by Eddie Vedder

In order to experience that sense of freedom, you have to come to terms with the fact that you already have everything you need. Trust. Dig deep. Look in the way back of your closet. I promise, whatever you're looking for is there--as long as you're willing to be creative.

Can you cultivate your own definition of happiness--of "having it all"--with only the resources at your fingertips? Life is short. Time is passing. You can't afford to wait.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.

Related posts: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Acceptance The Haves and the Have Nots

The Haves and the Have Nots

I used to have this pink tee shirt when I was a kid that had a big, glittery iron-on patch emblazoned on it. In between an up arrow and a down arrow were the words "Everything's going up but my allowance."

I hated that shirt, mostly because I didn't get an allowance. Now, to be fair, I didn't do anything around the house to warrant an allowance. But still, the grown-ups all thought the tee shirt was hilarious and adorable. I just felt like an impostor and did everything I could to avoid wearing that ridiculous shirt. All it did was remind me what I did not have, which made me feel different. And when you're nine years old, different is not good.

I spent many years of my life thinking that more was better. More toys. More clothes. More friends. More books. More rooms. More vacations. More money. In a literal sense, I was pretty well off. But figuratively speaking I felt poor. Even when I had plenty, it didn't feel like enough.

Enough for whom?

A few years (and a few thousand down dogs) ago, it finally started to make sense: stuff does not equal happiness. Simple but true. It's hard to keep sight of that when everyone I know seems to have jetted off somewhere tropical this winter, or is dressed in a new pair of designer jeans, or heading out for dinner and drinks. Stuff does Not. Equal. Happiness.

It's why I could have a cashmere sweater in every color that J.Crew offers, or a love-it size scoop of Cold Stone Creamery's Founder's Favorite ice cream (in a waffle bowl) every day of the week and still want for something more. Less is more. The less I want and the less I try to "keep up," the more fulfilled I feel. Simple as that. And if I can find someone who will appreciate my unneeded things--stuffed bunny rabbits, a freshwater pearl necklace, a box full of holiday decorations, and so on--well, that's what good karma housekeeping is all about.

I watched Michael J. Fox speak on Oprah today about what it's like living with a degenerative disease. Something he said stood out to me so much that I hit pause and rewind a few times just so I could scribble it all down:

Happiness grows in direct proportion to your acceptance and in inverse proportion to your expectations. . . . This is what I have today. I don't have a choice about this, but I have a million other choices. And if I choose well, I am going to be a happy person.

If the only real way to find happiness is to accept the reality that is today and fill it with the best option for whatever choices are in your control, well that's what living rich is all about.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less really is more.