I’m jealous of Olia, who’s blogging from Utah right now. I love mountains, but I’ve only climbed them, never skied down one. Well, I tried snowboarding in WI once and it was rad, but the surface was an ice sheet that bit back when I bit it. I know I’ll be good at skiing when I try it, because I was a rollerblading phenom, doing jumps and everything.
Under the surface, and running through most of my days as an audible hum, is The Wanderlust.
How on Earth did I sit still in an office for more than a decade? I will wonder that to my deathbed. I will log all those minutes, collectively, as one of my dying regrets.
Some days, I fantasize about reclaiming my youth’s energy and strength. I definitely felt strong while I was doing IntenSati. But I’ll confess something: I have little faith that I could be some superwoman, or even the woman I was in the body I had.
Nevertheless, I am willing to try.
My coach, Jonathon Moon, was amazing for the year+ we worked together and continues to be a friend who nourishes me. He encourages me, and celebrates my successes, while being on his own path to bliss that is radically different from mine; but our two paths converged at a point.
I like friends like this.
The way we connected was my cousin Lynda Levy and he were being trained as life coaches by the brilliant Maria Nemeth. Jonathon needed to build client hours, and I had the amazing gift of six free coaching sessions. I felt so uplifted, validated, and enthused after each conversation, I continued on as a client without hesitation and with great results.
In the time, I produced and framed more of my original photography, and married my husband—those were just two significant personal intentions that we performed some magic on.
I took to lighting a candle and setting the arena for a successful session before our weekly call. We talked for an hour every Tuesday. It became a soulful ritual practice.
Even after I stopped using life coaching, I found that Tuesdays at 9 I could set fire to kindling and get some good, creative shizzle sizzling. If I light a candle at my desk and in some way set the arena for success, I can revive the discipline. Yes, being a coaching client is a discipline, like yoga, IntenSati, or whatever you might choose to practice.
My regret is I don’t do enough. To become my ideal self. To self-actualize.
…Despite that slack feeling, a lot happens. I did dream of living in a house with green space and we made it a reality. I did take the leap into parenthood. In so many ways, it’s been a plant grown from seed, especially since I’d envisioned a homebirth and we also made that vision come alive. Our daughter was born at home.
I think everyone feels a pang of jealousy on occasion. It doesn’t have to be debilitating and there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging it. But everyone processes it differently—some choke it back down their throats like a sour pill and hide the box it came in; others avoid that which or whom they are jealous of (and probably miss out on opportunities to bask in another’s reflected glory, which I think we should all do more). It makes me feel GREAT to see my friends enjoying a moment on the stage; renovating a house from the ground up; adopting a baby; adopting a pet; reuniting with 35 members of their family; riding a horse; riding a yacht; having an exhibit; having a second child; earning and spending a fortune; or stowing away the gadgets during a Zen retreat in an exotic locale. These are all things I would enjoy.
My husband, David, reminds me when I’m feeling blah how much I’ve seen, done, experienced, and accomplished. Sometimes I feel like I’m living more vicariously than I am first hand. My Facebook friends post spectacular pics that make me beg to know, “Where is that? How does that feel?” I think it should be no skin off their backs to reveal the mystic place or embellish; no one can co opt your experience. And unless you are National Geographic Traveler, if you reveal you were watching the sun set from a beautiful place, mapping it will probably not cause 30,000 visitors to go plunder and spoil it.
Really. There’s nothing like the excitement of your own trip, your own creation, your own river, your own goals, your own obstacles and thrills, ideas and enchantments, indiscretions and charitable acts.
If I may use this analogy…
Foreplay begins the minute sex ends.
I start wondering what my next trip will be as the current one is concluding. I want the idea box never to be empty and I want lots of projects on the board, all in different stages of planning and execution.
I am never really dormant. I can’t sit still, and I can’t dream small. I have way too much energy to snooze. And now, the way I see it,
I have 10 years of corporate plaque to clear from my arteries.
My plan entails:
1) Numerous walks in the woods
2) Printing and framing more pictures—this is very fulfilling for me
3) Cooking most of my meals
4) Riding the damn bike this summer
5) Swimming in the ocean at least once a year, and more swimming wherever possible
6) Writing, and more digitizing of my handwritten stuff
7) Maybe using iPhoto to make a book of my photos and poems in some combo! Yeah!
8) Fewer midnight snacks
9) More surprise phone calls to elderly relatives
10) More phone & Skype with my favorite people
This is just a smidgen of what is going to happen, because what happens is about 10% planning and 90% kismet.