By The Sea

I made my way to the beach today. I set out in search of quiet, peace and beauty, but mostly I just needed a reminder that I am small. That my life and the story I am writing with each day that I live it are important, certainly, but that my worries, my fears, my trials, trivialities and insecurities are all a lot smaller, less significant and all-consuming than they seem. And the ocean? It delivered. It always does.

On my way, I got lost. Not once, not twice, but three times I had to pull over and re-route my GPS. And twice it turned out I hadn't been lost at all, that I would have been just fine if only I'd trusted my instincts. But I didn't. So three times I pulled onto some quiet street or into some empty parking lot and got frustrated. With my phone for not being more clear and then, when I found myself retracing my steps, with myself for not listening to my instincts. I realized though, when I finally arrived at the beach, that it was oddly poetic and symbolic me losing my way and not trusting my instincts. After all, I was on my way to the ocean to find something. And when I did, I realized that there was a lesson to be learned even in the journey. That sometimes, in life, we get lost. For whatever reason, at times, we simply lose our way. And that's okay. We just have to stop and take the time to find it again. That sometimes the routes we expect to get us someplace, don't and instead we find ourselves somewhere unfamiliar. But that doesn't mean we're not still on our way to where we're supposed to be. It simply means we have things to learn along the way. And we can take comfort in knowing that the destination still awaits us just as it did before, but that we will arrive stronger, smarter, better, changed...improved in some way.

When I did finally get to the beach, it's effects were immediate. I was barely a step into the tunnel, had caught just a glimpse of it's waters when the calmness began to wash over me. It was as if a wave had gone the distance, washed up over the rocks ad the sand and finally let itself break over me. It was lovely. I stood there and simply took it all in until I started to freeze. Because it is, after all, April in Connecticut. So I put my hood on ad tied it tight around my neck, took my shoes off and started walking.

Before I knew it, I was searching for sea glass. This didn't come as a surprise. I needed something to do that I didn't have to think about, and it's probably one of my favorite things to do at the beach anyway. However, it also shouldn't have come as a surprise that I didn't find any. The beach, after all, is called Rocky Neck and is home to more rocks than it is beautiful shells and weathered glass. I was, however, a bit surprised to find regular glass. Instead of being disappointed, though, I became excited. Because it's easy to find something beautiful, but to look at something and see that it has the potential to be beautiful, when it's not so clear yet? That's a lot more difficult. And a lot more satisfying. So I made it my mission to find all of the pieces of glass that I could and throw them into the ocean. It was even better than my original plan and offered even more gratification. It also offered up another reminder:

We often mistake things that are broken for things that are ugly, when, in fact, sometimes the broken things are the most beautiful of all. Broken things yield stories and development. Sometimes, all they need is time. Time to heal. Time to change. Time to soar. It's a tough process. But in the end? In the end, that broken thing may just take your breath away. So we must not be so quick to judge, to toss aside. We must, instead, look. Look for the beauty in weathered edges and in scratches and in scars. And if we really, truly, can't find something beautiful in the broken? We must realize that it may just not be ready to soar yet. And then we must help it to do so. We must lend a hand or a shoulder to cry on. We must throw ordinary glass back into the ocean with the faith that, given a little bit more time, it will become something extraordinary. Something broken, yes, but something beautiful.

When I could just barely feel my fingers and was certain my nose and toes were going to fall off, I turned around to head back to my car. And just as I reached for the door, it started to rain. My inclination was to get in my car, turn the heat up and start driving the twisted road that would take me home. And I did. But as I crossed a bridge and the soft sprinkling turned to full-on pouring, I turned around. Because I love me some beach, but I adore me some rain and there was no way I was missing this finale.

So I parked my car again, slipped off my shoes, slipped off my sweatshirt and made my way through that tunnel. And when I got there? I threw my arms up in the air and I twirled around until I was sure I would vomit or fall over or both and then I span some more. I span until I couldn't feel my fingers, toes, nose or any other inch of my body. And then, when the fireworks were over, when the pouring rain settled back to a soft sprinkle and I was convinced the universe had just sent me a gift, I turned around and headed home feeling at peace and contented by quiet and beauty. Feeling lovely and small. And you know what? I didn't get lost on the way there. Not once.

Thank you, ocean. Thank you, rain. Thank you, universe. You all delivered today. Once again.

Faith.

I can't stand people who preach religion. This is, in part, due to the fact that I can't stand preaching in general, but is also largely in part due to the fact that I, personally, don't believe that one set of ideals, beliefs and morals can fit multiple people, let alone large groups of them. We are individuals. Independent thinkers with our own philosophies and moral compasses and manners of doing and being. We have different ideas of 'right' and 'wrong' and all of the gray area --or lack thereof-- that may or may not exist in between. Our opinions on every little thing vary from one person to another in one way or another. Big or small. Because we are not only independent thinkers, but we are also, as a direct result, independent believers. These two things go hand in hand.

And these belief systems of ours? They tend to change as we grow. Sometimes they change from day to day. I know that I, personally, am sometimes at a complete loss for what to believe in. Constantly blurring the lines between what I do believe and what I want to believe. Some days I believe in a higher power, sometimes I believe we are the higher power. Sometimes I believe in 'meant to be' and 'everything happens for a reason'. But sometimes I believe less in 'fate' than I do in beautiful mistakes.

Sometimes I pray. A quick and silent thought sent up in a time of need or beauty. An offer of 'please' or 'thanks'. But sometimes a part of me thinks that's completely and utterly ridiculous. That we make our own destinies. Do for ourselves as we can, as we see fit. That we walk through this life and stumble upon things that take our breath away and make us feel lucky. Things that bring us to our knees and leave us sobbing. And then sometimes I wonder: who puts these things here? Whose plan for me is this?

I don't want to get into my own personal beliefs. To do so would be entirely too complicated, simply because sometimes I believe everything and others I believe nothing at all. My point is, I don't think that anyone can always put all of their faith in one set of beliefs. Even if they aren't constantly changing. But I do think that the decision to do so lies in an individuals hands. The decision to believe what we'd like to, when we'd like to and how we'd like to is uniquely ours. It's not something we should see as a guide or basis to judge others. It is not something we should push onto others. Because as our beliefs are ours, theirs ought to belong solely to them. Unjudgeable. Untouchable.

Today I believe in fate. Today I believe that the silent prayers I sometimes send up sometimes get answered. And that the times that they don't? Well there's something better in store for me. Today I believe in destiny and all that that entails. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I may just believe in beautiful mistakes. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with the fact that my beliefs are ever-changing and constantly evolving and the fact that I don't exactly know every little thing about myself like the back of my hand. And if I'm okay with that, you ought to be too. And if you aren't? Well, if I can't figure out my own beliefs, I certainly don't need to add yours to the mix.

Just A Number

I don't believe in age. I don't believe that my value as a human being should be determined by how many breaths I've taken, how many times I've blinked, or the number of minutes I've spent on this earth. Life is about the moments, yes. But it's not measurable by the number OF them you've collected.

Because time? It's not a black and white thing. Life can change in a split second or it can remain essentially the same for years on end. People experience and live life at different paces. Some children grow up incredibly early and some adults never grow up at all.

It's about maturity and experience. It's about making mistakes and learning from them (or, in some cases, not). It's about personal growth and finding yourself and realizing your dreams. None of which are things you can do on a predetermined timeline. Not everyone experiences major loss at 13. Not everyone experiences heartbreak by 16. Not everyone experiences the same things in a lifetime.

And really? That is how you grow. The loss and the heartbreak and the moments that make you want to scream or cry or both are the moments that determine how 'old' you are, what you've gotten out of life. And it's the happy moments too. Meeting someone who brings you to your knees, triumphing over something or someone, new life, new perspective-it's all a part of life. A life that can't be measured in time.

Life is situational. Experience is often immeasurable. So don't let it inhibit you-date who you want to date, make sure your voice is heard, allow yourself to succeed...Don't use it as an excuse-take initiative...Just be. Live and let live. The moments matter, so cherish them, but the number of them? That number means nothing. Age is just a social construct that creates boundaries that oftentimes don't necessarily need to be there for a lack of a better unit of measurement. The only way to measure what you've gotten out of life is to simply live. So live simply: Do what makes you happy.

Small.

The fog had rolled in without warning, silent and thick. If it weren’t for the lights that lined the streets and the glow of a front porch here and a bedroom window there, it would have been almost eery. Instead, it was beautiful. I stood there with my face pressed up against the glass while the heat from my breath married the cold of the window and took it all in. I’m not sure what it was -the houses undoubtedly filled with peacefully sleeping people, the snow on the ground and the fog in the air or the silence of the night-but I suddenly felt small, insignificant. In that instant, all of my worries seemed to disappear and so did all of my fears. I had the grounding realization (Not for the first time) that my life was only mine. That there are billions of other people out there each with their own trivialities and sources of pain and joy and heartache and love and that, while we are all connected, we are also all alone. That we are singular people living singular and separate lives that just happen to intertwine occasionally.

Hours earlier I’d curled up in the loveseat occupying the corner of our living room and engaged in conversation with my visiting grandmother. Our conversation ranged from light and thoughtless to heavy and thought-provoking with a higher concentration of the latter. At one point I got to thinking (Again, not for the first time) about just how short life is. How small each of us are. Standing there with my breath fogging up the bathroom window and my fingers numbing from the cold, I looked out at this world of ours and somehow the first thought took the second thought by the hand and they married. They affirmed and completed each other. And the rush of emotions that resulted was both eery and beautiful. It was wonderfully haunting and grounding.

I crawled back into bed even more tired than I had been before. I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come, but it didn’t. I couldn’t manage to shake the feeling I’d had. I started asking myself questions -Who am I? What is my purpose? Will I make a difference? What will happen when I die?- and it didn’t really help. I like asking questions, sure. But I like knowing answers more and it just so happened that the questions I was asking myself had answers I didn’t possess. Only two were even worth attempting to answer: Who am I? And what, exactly, is my purpose?

I have always believed that every moment, every choice, every action, every laugh, tear and heartache we have ever lived, made, taken, had, shed and weathered is what makes us the people that we are. I believe that we are constantly growing and constantly changing and that that is a beautiful thing. That who we are is not something that can be summed up in a few sentences or even a 10 page paper because who we are is 31,536,000 moments a year every year we’ve lived since we took our first breaths. It’s a mix tape of all of the nights we’ve cried ourselves to sleep, danced around in our bedroom in our underwear and sang at the top of our lungs when we thought no one was listening. It’s every break up we’ve weathered, every friendship we’ve fostered and all of the people we have welcomed into and pushed out of our lives. It’s our secret hopes, our paralyzing fears, our wildest dreams…It’s undefinable. And yet, it’s so explicitly defined.

But our purpose? How do we ever know what that is? I search for signs everywhere and see things that aren’t there and still the best that I can come up with at the end of every day is what I hope mine is or could be. Sometimes, on foggy, silent nights, this bothers me and I would love if someone would just spell it out for me, tattoo it on my forehead-something! But on others, on most days, I’m glad I don’t know. That would take the mystery -and therefore a lot of the fun and, of course, the teachable moments- out of life. This one guaranteed life that we get. And that’s when I remember that it’s not the destination -it’s not where we’re headed- it’s where we are and how we’ve gotten there thus far. It’s the journey. Always the journey.

And then I remember that life is short. That we must do what we love and love what we do. That, in the end, the things that other people think and feel won’t matter. That rules and expectations don’t matter. That all that truly matters is the ability to say to yourself, ‘I feel fulfilled. I am happy.’ That there is no measure of success more important than your own. And that the best thing you will ever do is follow your own heart.

Because despite the fact that we are all very small pieces of a very large puzzle, we are also the only pieces in our own puzzles. Our lives intertwine periodically -often, even- but my life is mine and yours is yours. So I’ll do what makes me happy. I’ll love who I want to. Even against my better judgment and without regard to what others say, think or feel. Sometimes without regard to consequences. I will form my own opinions and speak them as I see fit. I will dance in my underwear in my bedroom and sing horribly while I do the dishes at work. I will pretend that I’m from London and use a fake British accent in public, just because. I will drop old and boring and common at the drop of a hat when I need a dose of fun and exciting and new. Even if that means taking a route I hadn’t foreseen or packing up and leaving the country and my life behind for a new experience.

I will do whatever it takes because, in my opinion, people often take life too seriously. They spend so much time trying to be successful that they seem to forget what success is. I’m convinced some even set out for it not knowing what they themselves are looking to find. And that’s not good. Those people are so busy trying to live life that they’re actually missing it.

This moment? It’s all that’s guaranteed. Forget another life. You’re not guaranteed another day, hour or even minute. And that feeling? That’s also grounding and eery and hauntingly beautiful. Find it. Seek it out and then? Hold onto it and live your life accordingly. Because we are certainly small by comparison, but we are also the largest factors in our own lives.

Who are YOU? What do you want out of YOUR life? Are you on the right track to get there? And, most importantly, are you happy?

Writer's block.

I have it and I have it bad.

Not because I'm short on things that I want to say or that I feel need to be said-I'm certainly not! In fact, I have more that I want to share than usual. It's just that there's so much that I'd like to say that I can't quite figure out how to convey one set of thoughts and feelings without throwing in a dash of 'this' and a half cup of 'that' to boot. This means that nothing I write is anything that I'd like to put out there for other people to read. In order to share your thoughts, you're meant to have them figured out yourself, right?

So I'm working on it. I have a few posts (all at various stages of being written) that need to be finished and a few more that need to be started. I'm hoping to get at least one finished before winter break is over.

So stay tuned. Because I haven't fallen off the face of the earth and I'm determined to ensure this blog has a different fate than all of my other blogs kept prior to it. I simply have an itch I can't scratch.

Happy Freakin' New Year

Disclaimer: This is a half-assed post, written simply because I felt that a New Years post was obligatory. It lacks inspiration and gusto. (Just saying.) I guess I could have put in effort, but I'm just not feeling it. If you want inspirational, you should skip to this post about making the most of a year. (Or just keep scrolling.)

It's January 1st, 2012 (In case you somehow hadn't realized this already, I thought I'd mention it. Great opener, huh? I think it will definitely grab the reader's attention...)

Anyway.

Last night we all celebrated the end of 2011 in some way or another. Whether it was by drinking too much, naming cocktail wieners, watching a movie curled up with a loved one, partying like it's the end of the world, or watching Kathy Griffin and Anderson Cooper engage in awkward conversation/foreplay on CNN's live coverage of New Years Eve in Time's Square or involved some other shennanigans (That's one of the only words I can't spell. I would Google it, but instead I'm going to let imperfection shine through because I think it's on my list.) you celebrated or lamented the last few moments of a maybe awesome/maybe horrible/maybe both year.

And then, this morning you woke up (with or without a raging headache) to a fresh start. Today is a blank page in the next chapter of the story that is your life. You may or may not have made resolutions that you may or may not follow through with in order to make this chapter better than the last. I didn't.

I'm not hugely into making promises that I can't keep (to others, especially, but also to myself) so I didn't vow to change a thing. Instead, I vowed to stay exactly who I am and made a simple to-do list of things I'd like to do this year, but that won't leave me curled up in the fetal position on December 31st of this year if it's not all checked off by midnight. Most of my list has to do with sucking the marrow out of life and making lemonade and all of that jazz. I actually put things like "Stop to smell the roses" and "Enjoy the small things" and "Laugh until you cry" on this years list. Easy enough, right? I think so.

If you want to read my list, it's here. Overall, it's very simple. Nothing drastic or life-changing. At this time next year (If we don't all die, of course.) I plan to still be essentially the same person that I am right now. Someone who laughs harder at their own jokes than other people do. Someone who loses the remote (Okay, all 3 of them. On a flat surface. Constantly.) Someone who jumps on the bed, dances in their underwear, sings (badly) at the top of their lungs, and actively chooses to dance. Someone who doesn't like to swallow gum just in case it actually stays in your stomach for 7 years and creates a mass of weight that she can't rid herself of for nearly a decade. Someone who is still not convinced that if you swallow the black seeds of a watermelon, one won't grow in your stomach. A daydream believer, hopeful romantic and lover of unicorns, sunshine and rainbows. A glass half full kind of gal.

Even though I'm not making crazy goals for this year, I am planning to continue writing my story and I am hopeful that it will contain lots of 'Romantic comedy', 'Action/Adventure' and 'Inspirational view' with very little 'Tragedy', 'Drama' and 'Tear-jerker'. (I would also like very much if I didn't get any surprise visits from mask-wearing chainsaw-yielding psychopaths. Just saying.)

Hopefully the new year will hold for you exactly what you dream of, too. Now go start writing! And, of course, Happy 2012!