Sick

I've often been told that, when you move to a new place, you are more likely to get sick because you aren't yet immune to all of the unique viruses that a place holds. I don't know if that's true, but since moving here almost two years ago, I have managed to avoid every bug that has made its way around my office. That is, of course, until my sniffles that started last week developed into a full-scale, nasty cold over the weekend. I didn't leave the house from Friday evening until this morning--in fact, I barely left the couch. My days were spent in the company of hot tea, the humidifier, Kleenex, orange juice, and Vicks VapoRub.

I definitely wouldn't say that I like being sick. But I must admit that there is a little part of me that likes it at least a little bit. For one, it is the perfect excuse to do nothing. I shouldn't need an excuse to do nothing, but nonetheless I find myself secretly enjoying the guilt-free hours of endless television viewing. I must have watched eight episodes of "Brothers & Sisters" back to back on DVD. And a movie or two. And I finally got around to starting Ken Burns' PBS documentary on the National Parks, which was the sort of thing I didn't want to start watching until I could find the time to settle in for at least one of the six DVDs in the series.

In addition to granting me hours of viewing pleasure, my cold also gave me full permission to be nurtured and comforted and all about myself for two whole days. As much as I love tea, it has a different feeling when you are drinking it for comfort and healing. Just feeling the mug warm in my hands and noticing how much the hot liquid soothed my sore throat was so comforting. When Dan came home from the grocery store with orange juice and broth, my heart swelled at the thought of being cared for in such a small way. I took great pleasure in the thought that, with the free pass of a bad cold, there was nothing I had to do and nowhere I had to be. And I felt no guilt in my desire for ramen noodles. Because, when you're sick, you get to eat whatever you want.

When I get a cold, or have a migraine, or run into a series of dizzy spells (though I still shudder at the thought of what an awful time that was last year), I'm learning more and more that it's really an opportunity for me to care for myself with all of my attention. Though I could definitely do without the coughs and the sore throat and the throbbing headache, they are not-so-gentle reminders to me that sometimes, no matter what else is going on or where I think I have to be, I can give myself permission to stay in my pajamas all day, eat comfort food, take frequent naps, and be cared for by others without an ounce of guilt. I manage to do this sometimes without the help of a virus, but not often enough. And so, I have to thank my cold--just a little--for giving me that opportunity once more.

Welcoming Fall

Today is one of my favorite days of the year. A couple of weeks ago, I literally jumped for joy at the arrival of the September issues of my magazines with their shiny red apples and comfort food on the covers. Despite today's strange juxtaposition of changing leaves and a high of 87, I'm going to do my best to savor the beginning of the season and all that it brings.

I feel as though, every fall, I look up and notice the leaves at their golden peak, and then before I know it, they are crunchy and brown under my feet. As crisp fall days turn to bitterly cold winter ones each year, I often realize that I didn't really stop to notice the change. I'm constantly working trying to develop a better sense of awareness. One of my deepest fears is that I will miss my life. As much as I struggle to slow down, I still seek more and more each day to really experience the world, to stop and breathe, to notice the small things, and to, as Thoreau says, "suck out all the marrow of life."

My task for this fall? To really notice the changing leaves this season. To--quite literally--look at them every day to see how they've transformed. To notice not only the bright red leaves that demand attention at the height of the season, but also the brownish green ones that hang from the trees outside my door, the orange-tipped ones on the bushes I pass while I'm out for a morning run, and the brown-speckled ones that are not as colorful but no less beautiful. Perhaps really noticing them will give me just one more reason to appreciate this crisp, cozy time of year and to feel grateful that I didn't miss it.

Purged

Purged this evening. . . .

1 skirt
6 pairs of shoes
16 shirts
2 button-downs
3 sweaters
2 sweatshirts
3 new tops with tags still on that I've realized I don't really love (and will therefore be returned)

one old coffee press that's been waiting for a new home for ages
Dan's old iPod (off to be recycled)
an odd-smelling candle I received as a gift that I will never use
old magazines awaiting pickup tomorrow morning in the recycling bin

the guilty/naggy feeling I got every time I looked at these things and knew I needed to get rid of them

Aaaah.

Clearing the Way for Something New

Being the HSP that I am, I am acutely aware of how my environment affects me. I have little tolerance for crowds or big messes or cigarette smoke or fluorescent lighting. A couple of weekends ago, I looked at my office and realized I had little tolerance for it, either.

Now, by most standards, my office was just fine. It was relatively neat and organized. But the energy just felt wrong.

The office was the room in our house that kind of became the afterthought once we moved in. I never got a light bulb into that desk lamp(!). The printer has been broken (it's one of two that we have), and it's time for me to accept that it's not really worth fixing. The shredder underneath my desk is ugly and always falls to the side between the desk and the wall. There was so much stuff on my desk that I had no room to work. And while I love, love the drawing above my desk that my sister drew ten years ago and which I insisted on having, I realized that a picture of a sad, poverty-stricken woman holding her baby is probably not the energy I want in a place where I work.

Having finally taken a little time to pinpoint what was bothering me, I set about creating a new space that would make me feel more energized and inspired to work. I decided the focal point above my desk should be the visual map that I recently created. As soon as I finished clearing off the space, added a few pretty things and some favorite books to my desk, and framed a favorite quote of mine to put in a prominent place for inspiration, I suddenly felt a shift. I tidied up some other things in the room, added a hanging plant for some life-giving energy, and now my desk has gone from being my least favorite place in the house to one of my new favorite spots (and all I spent was $10 for the plant, which now hangs in the opposite corner behind my chair).

Coincidentally, less than three hours after rearranging my desk, I came across a section in Steering by Starlight where Martha Beck recommends changing your space in order to help shape your life. I truly believe that even a little change like this has brought positive energy into my life and is helping me break old habits and forge ahead in my search for my new self.

My next project? My closet. This week I realized that some of my clothes and shoes a) make feel bad when I see them because they don't fit right/I never wear them/were an ill-advised purchase or b) don't really reflect who I want to be. And so, tonight, I move on to one of my favorite activities--the purging of the clothes. Here's to making way for something (or someone!) new.

A Visual Guide

In my efforts to figure out what's next, I've been trying to get to the core of what matters most to me, what I get my energy from, and what I envision as the highest priorities in my life. As a visual person, my first impulse was to create something I could continually look at to reflect this--and to help me chart the course. About a week ago, I spent a Saturday afternoon with some old magazines, some double-sided tape, and a piece of poster board. I searched for anything that I found to be beautiful, inspiring, a reflection of my deepest values and interests, or a representation of the direction in which I'd like my life to go. Here is the result.

Just looking at it makes me feel so inspired and peaceful. . . and takes me one step closer to transforming my vision into something tangible.

A New Perspective on Failure

Not long ago, while talking to my sister about my work and career, I remember telling her, "I feel like a failure." For my Type A, perfectionist, always-likes-to-be-good-at-things self, this was a painful revelation, but a true one nonetheless.

What has baffled me is that I haven't really been able to figure out why I seem to be failing at the things I try to do professionally. By failing, I do not mean that I do not do my job well--on the contrary, I am quite good at what I do, and I think my employers would agree. But I have failed at doing work that feels right or that makes me feel valued. I have failed to pick the right jobs--even though, on the surface, they initially seemed like exactly what I wanted. And despite the fact that I do my job well, I have failed at making the professional advances I thought I'd have achieved by now. Somehow, no matter how carefully I plan or how hard I work, my professional life seems to have been one spectacular string of bad luck, bad choices, or a combination of both. I've often wondered, What in the world is going on here? What do I keep doing wrong?

Recently, I came across something that really helped me rethink this string of failures and where they might be coming from. In the midst of my journey to a new path, I've been spending a lot of time reading Martha Beck (whose work I highly recommend). In her book Steering by Starlight, she includes this passage from Kabir, a 14th century poet:

The truth is that you turned away yourself, and decided to go into the dark alone.

Now you are tangled up in others, and forgotten what you once knew.

And that's why everything you do has some sort of weird failure in it.

That last line really resonated with me, as though Kabir was speaking directly to me across centuries. This string of failures for which I've felt bad and blamed myself may in fact have nothing to do with my capabilities. It may, in fact, be no more than a result of me turning away from myself and my inner voice--including the voice that's been telling me, for some time, that I was on the wrong path. Knowing that my "failures" are not, in fact, some great disappointment on my part, but rather a way of getting me back on track, makes me feel a lot better. And a lot more hopeful.

Magic Gardens

Philadelphia's Magic Gardens has been on my list of places to visit for over a year now. Thankfully, when my friend Sara came to visit in July, it was at the top of her list of things to do. Taking a stroll through a place so full of creative energy was well worth a little time in the summer heat!

Crossroads

For the last few years, my life has been so full and blessed that at times I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. Sometimes I can't believe that I have so many tremendous things in my life all at once: an amazing partner, incredible friends, two kitties who make me laugh every day. A loving and supportive family. A warm, caring church community. Books and music and art and nature. I could go on and on about all of the little miracles in my life.

Despite all of this, one area of my life has been slowly nagging away at me, and that is my work life. I keep finding myself in jobs that aren't the right fit for me, cause me tremendous stress, aren't aligned with my values, and just never work out the way I hoped. All jobs have their ups and downs, but for me, it's been more than that. . . I just can't seem to make things fit. I keep ending up in toxic environments, in jobs that force me to be someone I'm not, in jobs that seem to be headed nowhere. While I have always been an ambitious person--and have generally succeeded at most things I've tried professionally--I find that I have little ambition, or that my efforts to advance to more meaningful opportunities never pan out. I've felt overworked, undervalued, and underutilized, and on top of all that, I don't really enjoy what I do.

For the last year or so, it's occurred to me that perhaps I am at a crossroads--a big one. I accepted my current position with enthusiasm, but after I started, I realized almost immediately that it wasn't right for me. Since then, I've been trying to figure out where else I'd like to be. . . and the answers have never been clear. I look at job postings, research organizations, think about career options in the social work field, but I've never really come up with the one thing that seems to fit. Perhaps I'm just discouraged or burned out, but when I started in this profession, I had so much optimism and passion. I'm finding myself getting cynical and tired. That is not a good place for anyone to be, and it is especially not a good place for a social worker to be.

This has, quite naturally, led me into a bit of a crisis. For starters, I've invested a lot of time--and money--in my career. I care deeply about social justice and helping people. Having work that makes a difference in people's lives is paramount to me. Social workers are some of the most inspiring, amazing people that I know, and I consider myself lucky to call them my colleagues.

And yet, despite all of these things, I can't seem to find the place in social work that feels like the right one. I've been trying on its hats for many years and have never found the one that fits. I'm starting to wonder if I will ever find the right one. Even more, I'm starting to wonder if maybe this career is not for me. It's taken a really long time--and a lot of courage--for me to admit that.

After pushing past my denial and justifications and finally admitting this to myself, I find now that I'm at a bit of a crossroads. For the past few months, it's been clear to me what I need to leave behind, but I've been unsure how to move forward, or where to go next. Perhaps there are other avenues in my career that I have yet to explore, or perhaps it's time to look in a different direction altogether.

I've been thinking about this a lot in recent weeks, and though I think I'm getting closer to the answer, I'm not quite ready to share it openly yet. I'm sure I'll be processing a lot of my journey here from time to time in the coming weeks and months. I hope you'll stick around to share it with me. . . and stay tuned to see where the road may take me next.

Embracing My Inner Country Girl

Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of traveling to North Carolina to visit my sister. I was looking forward to not only spending time with family, but also visiting the fine city of Asheville, home to all things liberal and earthy and generally granola. I savored all the vegan and vegetarian food options, the abundance of local art, and the general hippie vibe. What I did not expect--at all--was how much I would enjoy my time tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

Granted, I was hesitant at first. The house where my sister and Garrett live (they are renters and the house is owned by a friend) is tucked away at the end of a gravel road, surrounded by neighbors who have their share of scary moments (sounds of shotguns, anyone?). When we were first driving there, I called my sister to make sure we were going the right way after we passed a falling-down barn and ventured down a road that seemed to lead to nowhere. It was a bit of a transition, to say the least, from Philadelphia to gravel roads.

I have always loved the mountains; I will take them over the beach almost any day. Still, after giving myself some time to settle in, I was surprised by how much I really felt at home in my sister's little house tucked away among the trees. Yes, we had to drive 20 minutes to get a cup of coffee. And yes, in the winter my sister and her husband might sometimes have to walk from the main road to their house because there is no plowing of their gravel road. Nonetheless, I felt so peaceful and at home there. The cabin is so charming, having been lovingly restored by Missy and Garrett's friend Heather, who owns the house. So much about it encourages you to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like the sounds of crickets with the windows open at night.


During our visit, we did so many simple, lovely things. We sat on the porch and talked. We swung on the hammock. We ate fresh vegetables Garrett grew on the farm where he works. We ate watermelon outside, the juice dripping down our arms as we spit the seeds into the yard.


We did our fair share of outdoor activities, too, including tubing down the Green River and taking turns shooting targets with a BB gun. On the last day of my visit, my sister and I went hiking (in the rain, no less!) up to Sam Nob.


On one of our last days there, I woke and looked out the window to see the sun coming up behind the mountains. I moved out onto the porch, sitting in the stillness of the morning, just trying to take it all in. In the last couple of years, I've been having a bit of naturelust, though I haven't always done a good job doing much about it. I've gone on a few hikes, have been trying to spend more time outside, and made a point to visit Yosemite and the redwoods during my California travels, but my trip reminded me just how much a part of me is longing to be more connected to the great outdoors.

I've never thought of myself as a country girl--or even an outdoorsy one at that. I have never been athletic. I don't do hot weather. I don't like when my hair frizzes in the rain. I've never owned a single piece of outdoor gear. I am scared of a wide variety of critters. It occurs to me, though, that perhaps I haven't given myself enough credit. Maybe it's time to embrace another side of myself. Maybe I should listen more to the voice that's telling me to take to the hills. Maybe I'm the girl who climbs mountains after all.

Tilth

As many of you already know, my friend Sally rocks. As it happens, she has taken her awesomeness to even greater heights by converting her tremendous talents into a bonafide business.

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Check out her (gorgeous!) new website here. If you know of anyone with food restrictions who could benefit from her services, regardless of where they live, please send them to Sally's site!