I have a family member— related to me by marriage only, but still, family— who has always known what he’s wanted to do. Or, at least, from a very young age he has always known. He is a dancer, and he’s so very good that, honestly, even though I’m far from the closest person to him, it’s hard to imagine him doing anything else in this world. It’s nothing short of amazing to watch. He loves what he does, he is extremely good at it, and he knew it a long time ago it was where he is meant to be. And, he’s successful and will likely continue to be even more so.

I know several people like this, people gifted in a lot of different ways, who have always known what they wanted to do, what they were good at doing. I know landscapers and designers and doctors who are all, essentially, in their place. Their calling. It’s pretty remarkable when you see someone who’s doing just what they’re meant to do. It’s amazing. I mean, I have seen a software developer so absolutely, unarguably skilled at his job that he literally invented things right before my very eyes.  It does not have to be glamorous to be amazing, people.

As I write this, though, I know I’m only talking about some people. A relatively small percentage of us really have truly looked at ourselves, seen what we’re capable of, believed, and somehow had the perfect storm of life events occur enough so that we could make it there, to that place where we’re doing what we should be doing. Some of us are on our way. We have an idea. We know what we’re good at, but we’re just not sure how to make a life within that space. More of us still are not even on the road. We feel clueless and bound to what we know, or what is working for the moment, what has worked in the past.

And I truly believe that within our own space, we can turn into something bigger, better, and more incredible than we often try to achieve. There are not limits. Once we get real, are still, and listen, there are no bounds. We are the opposite of the goldfish that can only grow to the size of his bowl. We are both the fish and the bowl.

Me, I am somewhere in between the person that knows and the person who’s clinging to the familiar. Of course I am fine with that on most levels (the bank account level not being one of them. Ahem!). I am fine that I’m learning, that since leaving my last full-time job I have learned and grown every single day. That I am fine with. That I hadn’t done in a really long time. I figure, though, that for those of us that aren’t dancers, or that once were dancers and now have to find ourselves on another path, there is hope.  I figure that learning and growing every day and feeling closer and more comfortable with that place you’re getting to—even if that “place” is just another road—is probably one of the greatest kinds of hope there is. But I also figure there is a breaking point. There is a point where the tides will turn, where you will know, where I WILL KNOW just enough to push through to something else, something that’s waiting. And then, the space will become bigger.

And hopefully, like now, that space will contain a beach. Which is where you’ll find me for the next few days.

We are both the fish and the bowl.

There is a theory out there—I’m not sure what it’s called—about finite energy. Supposedly, in this world or universe or whatever you believe/perceive to be the bounds of creation and existence, within that space there is a certain amount of energy that is static. It’s measure remains the same no matter what time it is, no matter how many life forms are in existence, and no matter what is happening within the space. There is an unseen, often unnoticed balance that exists, has always existed, and will continue to exist no matter what. I am assuming there are mathematical equations for this theory, too, written out on a chalkboard down some very long hallway with cinder block walls, just waiting for some night janitor to come along and solve something no card-carrying genius ever could.

But because I’m not that night janitor, nor the card-carrying genius, I’m forced to think of this theory within my own terms, my own experience.  Apparently, the basis of this theory is energy comes in many, many forms, and travels in many, many different styles, but the amount of it that is available is constant. There is only enough energy to sustain that which consumes, recycles, and passes on energy within our space here, living in this space and time. Am I getting too science-y? Yes, I think I am. (Along with not being a huge fan of math, science was not really my deal, either. Thank God I can spell. Mostly.)

Basically, everything that occurs, be it large or small, is to either give way to energy for something else, or to take the energy from something else. This is the reason for all things, big and small. From babies being born, to a car breaking down. Things we see no reason for, things that seem awful and wrong and altogether cruel, too, have a reason for being given space within this finite field of energy.

I don’t say this to try to make myself or anyone feel okay about awful things. Oil spills, earthquakes, death, these are not things that can be made okay by some theory. But the thing about this theory is that energy, the kind that essentially is the basis for existence, is not particular. It is not about good occurring because there is want or even a need, and it is not about being able to stop bad from happening because there is a want or need. What it is about, though, is a greater, defined path on which everything will eventually unfold, irrespective of opinion. It means that something is always giving way to something else, and whether that something be twenty minutes or 20 years into the future, there is always something else.

What I’m getting at, if have haven’t lost everyone by now, is that so often I have found myself looking for an explanation of why something is the way it is, or why something isn’t the way it used to be. If I had a dollar for every time I did that in my twenties, for example, you’d be reading the words of a multi-millionaire right now. But what I find now is that along with this finite amount of energy available comes only a finite amount available to me, and fighting hard for more only seems to make it harder to get.

Sometimes, this sounds a lot like giving up. Sometimes, this sounds a lot like simply turning over things out of my control.  To me right now though, it sounds a lot like acceptance. Because bad things, or unpredictable things, or wrong things never seem to ask permission to interrupt, and whether you use it or fight it, it still happens. I believe that is how the energy theory works. And I will continue believing that, until maybe some janitor tells me otherwise.

The thing about making a decision that I can always appreciate is the almost instant relief that follows. Somewhere in those 10 or 20 seconds after I feel completely reassured and optimistic. Sometimes that feeling lasts longer, but not often. Usually my mind will drift toward thoughts of “What if?” and “What now?”

Today, though, I just want to make the effort to live in those 10 to 20 seconds for as long as I can.  I want to appreciate them for what they are, my ability to make a choice, or exercise my free will you might say, while still having faith that it will all work out without worrying about what’s next. One thing I don’t usually do is second guess myself. I make a decision and commit to it and move forward.  Sometimes it is completely right, and sometimes not so much, but either way I make it and own it. And then move on.

I am probably rambling right now, and not making enough sense to qualify for a coherent post, but I guess what I am trying to say is that I feel pretty great. These 10 to 20 seconds are so joyful, so okay.  And right now, maybe even all day, I’m going to live in these 10 to 20 seconds and feel reassured that these seconds, along with everything that led up to them, is just what is meant to be.

I know that in my last couple posts, I may have seemed very dramatic. I mean, who calls someone being unprofessional a “disaster?” It could be a lot worse, right? So much worse. Partly because I chose not to go into detail, and partly because I shared my immediate reaction, I know I sounded like I was exaggerating the whole thing.

While I am okay with that, because my work and my reputation are important to me, I will admit that the last few days have distanced me from things enough to realize a little about what the real struggle is for me: control. Without, still, going into more detail, I will say that I had idealized this opportunity and its potential to the point where I was blindsided.

Now, I’m not saying that we should always anticipate the worst so that we’re prepared for the inevitability of things going wrong, but as far as preparation goes, I had none.  And for me, this spoke less about this situation individually and more about my life over all. It said to me that although I have been telling myself for many months that I had a certain trust that things would work out, I hadn’t really put that into practice outside of my own thinking. Does that make sense? Although I was walking around telling myself I had faith, I’d never come to a point wherein I actually HAD to have it.  You might say it wasn’t tested.

I think we do that a lot, and I know I do. Because word is always easier to understand than action, because “trust” rolls so easily off our tongues, we become a little proud. “I have faith” we say, and then we move on, seemingly untouchable. Sure, there is nothing wrong with that. Reassurance isn’t a bad thing. But just saying something and believing it with the words alone being the only proof that it is true, is not really truth at all, is it? The real truth comes in the aftermath, in your reaction, in the process between the moment of the blindside to the moment that you realize what life (or God, or your faith, or your beliefs, or the universe) is really trying to show you.

So, the events of last week aren’t really about work at all. Admittedly, I still am not sure of what I’m going to do about the whole thing. I have some big movess to make, that’s for sure. I am feeling a lot of pressure and worry and that probably won’t wholly go away. But I have learned one thing so far (and there’s more to learn, I’m sure) and that is that I have to turn it over. In my case, I feel like I can turn it over to God, because that is the foundation of what I believe. Whatever it is for anyone else, though, is just as powerful. It is not so much about where you’re turning it over to as it is that you’re actually following through on the action itself. You are surrendering control, or the belief that you had the control to begin with, as the case may be.

As I said, I know this isn’t a fix. I’m not looking for that. I know I have a choice, now and always, and that there’s still a chance that I will choose wrong. I guess I have that to look forward to. But what I think I also have to look forward to is a better practice of what it means, for me, to actually have faith that things will work out, and to still believe that even when they don’t.

Since the weekend, I’ve been pretty vocal on Twitter about the flooding in Nashville.  I’m going to assume you’ve heard about it by now, although I talked to a friend just yesterday who hadn’t, so I know it’s possible.  For me, though, this hits close to home. Along with having friends in Nashville—friends who are safe, thankfully—I simply love that town.

Today I’ve reposted below a post from about a year ago when I was in Nashville to run the Country Music Marathon. I took a lot of photos that trip, and although the post is long, it conveys my genuine thrill and appreciation for the city.  A good part of the post focuses on my visit to the Grand Ole Opry, which looked like this when I was there:

And yesterday morning, looked like this:

It just makes my heart sink.

And yes, I know there are other things going on in the world, in our country. I know this.  And I know if any city can come together and recover, it’s Nashville.

In the coming days and weeks, there will be a lot of ways to help. I hope if you can help, you will.  It’s a special place, people.  And you can see a little of why I think so, below.

______________________________________

Nashville: The other parts not about the running

Lest anyone believe that my trip to Tennessee was all about running and emotions and accomplishment, I’d like to point out that I came away with about 40 race day photos, and about 240 from the rest of the trip. Or there’s the fact that nearly two weeks later I’m still talking about food, like okra.  Man, okra is good stuff.

Anyway, I did some walking around Nashville, and some touristy stuff.  Oh, and let’s just face it, I love the touristy stuff.  My last trip to Nashville was all business (and by that I mean I immediately got high on sweet tea and didn’t take a lot of pictures) so it was nice to do some lookin’ this time around.

There was food, like the Pancake Pantry:

And mark my words right now, I think my grandmother’s twin was our waitress.  I don’t know where she came from, but she was the sweetest woman and I felt like maybe if I dripped something on my chin while eating she would have come over, spit on a napkin, and wiped my face for me.

Or maybe I just love her because she brought me sweet potato pancakes:

I restrained myself from eating all five the day before a marathon, but my lands, I could have.

We also drove the race course, as I mentioned in my race report, and my favorite thing about that had to have been how bright GREEN the entire city was. I was so happy to be in the midst of springtime at a moment when it was actually snowing here in the Rockies.

And then of course I had to hang out the car window and get all kinds of other photos, only some of which actually came out.

The day after the marathon was a bit of a different story.  I wanted to keep moving, but I was slow. Very, very slow.  While my friends went museum-ing, I did my own walking tour. Slowly.

But that’s probably also what allowed me to notice things I otherwise may not have noticed, like this:

I love Dolly. LOVE her.  As in I dressed as her for Halloween twice as a kid. There are three people on this Earth wherein my knees would go weak upon seeing, and she’s one of them.  She’s a genius, and hilarious.

And then of course I had to do some window shoppin’:

And some bar hoppin’:

And some star gazin’:

And some… okay, never mind, that’s getting old.

But I’m not gonna lie, I loved it.  I really do love country music. I love other music, too, of course but country music is good stuff. Let me know if you want to argue with me about that. Pack a lunch.

Maybe it’s just because I was moving so slowly, but there just seemed to be a little bit of charm around every corner.

And then we went to lunch.  At the Loveless Cafe. Can you say fried food?

Which is where the okra came in.  And the sweet tea.

…of which I had gallons.   Normally, I’d have limited myself a bit, but that’s the beauty of the day after a marathon: all the fried food you want. Sorry, that’s just how I see things.

Just a couple more stops.  Hold on, we can make it.  We can do it together! Someone sing Kum Ba Yah already.

Looking at most of my adult life, and even before, I pretty much remember everything compartmentally. The school time, the work time, the family time, the friends time. It all seems very categorically defined to say “this is what you do now, at this moment.” Then, whatever you’re doing at that moment is, obviously, a result of your love for that particular thing and the work you did to be able to get there in the first place. More simple, you work to have fun later; you go on vacation so you can be refreshed for work. Everything’s purpose, essentially, becomes the foundation for something else.

This works, this is a familiar routine for most people. We often think that if our lives were different, if we had free time all the time, or if only we had a job that we loved to do all the time, it would be different. We would be different. We think we’d finally lose that fifteen pounds, we’d finally read an entire book in less than 6 months, we’d have a clean house, we’d fall in love, we’d somehow—by upending our lives—find a Happily Ever After that we know is just beyond the reach of this… routine.

I have fallen into that, too. And in many, many ways, it’s true. We need some balance to our routines, we need time to reflect. I hope to always have room and time for growth and change. But what’s surprised me the most in these last six months that I’ve been “off” from the regular routine, is that there is no difference in the way that I am. There is no miraculous version of me that is waiting to unfold. Which is pretty reassuring, if not a little disappointing on the surface.

First, the disappointing part, because that’s what everyone is always scared to admit. Though I’ve suspected it for a while, I am not some brilliant talent that will explode from nothing to incredible overnight. The talent that I am, that I’ve always been, is just growing at it’s ever normal rate, getting better, and doing a hell of a lot more than even I give it credit for.

Which brings me to the reassuring part, the part that we have to remind ourselves is always there. For me, I have to watch that I don’t allow myself to be extremely disappointed by this. I struggle with the idea that right now, or maybe always, this elusive, hard-to-define, huge moment isn’t necessarily happening. That’s tough to realize, that for the time being, even just in my own mind, I get mediocrity. Or at least my definition of it, though I know a lot of people would disagree.

The important thing for me has been remembering that every day/month/part of this time is what’s leading to everything else. It’s all important. And while I see friends doing huge things, while I sit and plan out my huge things only in my head, I have to remember that what I’ve done is pretty huge, too. Even if it’s not the last thing I plan on doing. It’s now. I have time for now.

I am simply amazed with people, once again.  Between Internet community and the people in my life I am just overcome with how much good there is in this world.  The past 24 hours has been a whirlwind of airline travel, airports (do other people call it “Scareport” or is that just me?), happenchance meetings, showing up as a surprise guest in a land far away, and, well, lots of good food and drink, I just cannot help but feel exceptionally blessed.  Which is such a difficult yet fortunate feeling to have right now, in a time when my heart is hurting so badly for situations that render most of us helpless, save for our generosity.

Just one example of that is my last post. As of that post —along with all those other wonderful bloggers— two days ago, thousands of dollars have been raised for the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation in the name of Brandy and her guy.

Check it out: http://www.loveharder.org/

I know there are so, so many ways this world is weighing on our hearts right now, and so many people that need help, so thank you so much to anyone who was able to give, participate, or send up a prayer. I don’t know if you’re the praying type, but I am, and that has been a lot of what’s keeping me busy these days. It really and truly means a lot. Thank you, each and every one of you who took time out of their day to read those posts, watch that video.

A lot of times, we find ourselves too busy to be people that look for causes. That is common. I understand. But sometimes, you guys, causes find us, and I think there’s a reason for that. I really, really do.

My uncle Joe used to use a phrase all the time that I just hated. I didn’t understand it, it sounded weird. My naive, childish self didn’t like it.  “My heart swells,” he’d say, in reaction to something beautiful or amazing.  I didn’t make sense to me then, and while my uncle Joe is still pretty weird (hi, Uncle Joe!), it makes complete sense to me now.

And every time I go back and watch that video, I’m reminded of what the power of a few people that care can really do in this world. My heart swells.

I watch it and I think of how uncomfortable I am on camera, how my voice combined with my mannerisms ON CAMERA is in the Top Five Things I Do Not Like About Life, but nonetheless, it was so worth it.  And, as you might have noticed if you watched, I appeared with my three-year-old nephew, Ivan, so as to distract most viewers with an adorable kid. I think it worked, mostly.

This wasn’t without it’s bribery and multiple takes, however. Come on, he’s three. Singing a song he’s never heard before, with me, on camera, on cue…. well, let’s just say it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy for either of us, actually.

Here’s an outtake from the SEVERAL takes we had.  I call this:

I Don’t Sing No Friggin’ Love Songs

(Also, I apparently still have not learned how to take a cue.  Forgive how absolutely stupid I can look, and without even trying.)

Ivan and Me singing, 2 from Lesley G on Vimeo.

Oh, so dumb.  But still, my heart swells.

You might remember a few weeks ago when I posted this from one of my very best blog friends, Brandy.  That day, along with many, many other bloggers, the Internet was touched with a story that is moving, incredible, and all too common. I have no doubt everyone who participated in this felt they wanted to be able to do more for Brandy and her guy.

Not a week later, an email conversation started between so many bloggers I could hardly keep track. Oh, people wanted to do more alright. A LOT more.  There is a blogging army out there, that’s for sure.

I know now that if you have a blog, and if you’re part of a community that you’ve joined or made, even just a little part like me, you can do amazing things.  You’re not just strong, you’re Internet strong.

________________________

The result: Brandy and your Hot Awesome Dude… this one’s for you.

Love, The Internet.

(Video compiled and edited by the Ah-MAZING LiLu at LivItLuvIt.com)

Our Plea

Our friend Brandy is a brilliant writer, a wonderful teacher, and a generous friend.  And she is in love with a man who has just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

We are raising money for the Multiple Myeloma Research Fund in his name.  For the price of a cinnamon dolce latte, half-caf, hold the whip, you can be part of an effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.

http://www.loveharder.org

Every dollar brings us a dollar closer to a cure.  And every donation brings a sliver of hope to a girl who needs all the hope she can get.

What You Can Do

• Give. Be part of a worldwide effort to cure a disease that affects approximately 750,000 people worldwide.  Every dollar helps.
• Pass it on. Forward this story to five people.  Share this blog post.  Become our fan on Facebook.
• Love harder. Life is short, love is unbending, and no one knows what could happen next. Tell someone you love them today.

Where Your Money Goes

• The American Institute of Philanthropy recently named The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation one of the best organizations to give to in terms of their accountability and use of resources.
• By working closely with researchers, clinicians and partners in the biotech and pharmaceutical industry, the MMRF has helped bring multiple myeloma patients four new treatments that are extending lives around the globe.
• The MMRF has advanced twenty Phase I and Phase II clinical trials. They need your support to advance these clinical research programs and accelerate the development of better, more effective treatments.
• The MMRF’s Multiple Myeloma Genomics Initiative recently became the first to sequence the multiple myeloma whole genome in its entirety.
• A whopping 98% of your donation to the MMRF will be used immediately to support high-priority multiple myeloma research.
• With diminishing funding for early stage drug development and the next myeloma treatments not expected to be approved until 2011, the MMRF desperately needs your help.

DONATE: http://www.loveharder.org
CONTACT: theloveharderfund@gmail.com
FACEBOOK: http://facebook.loveharder.org
MORE INFO: http://www.themmrf.org

So I am never, ever on top of the latest goings on Internet-wise, which is totally why I missed de-lurking day yesterday, but in the last week the Internet, Social Networking, and Blogging/Bloggers have AMAZED me in more ways than one, for more causes than one. The time, energy, and spirit people will put into doing something good is nothing short of brilliant.

It’s for that reason that I can’t help but wonder who else is out there that I don’t know.Who else is contributing in ways I may never otherwise see?

Last night I met a friend for happy hour, something that has rarely happened since I left my office job. It occured to me about one margarita in that the place was packed and that we should try to collect money to donate to relief efforts in Haiti. So, I went around with a bucket and asked people for donations, threatening to sing “Pants on the Ground” if people didn’t give. It worked beautifully, and I ended up with $240 in my bucket in about 30 minutes.  Who knew I could be so forward? I mean, besides everyone.

So today I’m asking for two things if you visit this website: 1) Delurk! Come on, please?  And 2) Tell me which cause you think my $240 bar collection should go to for Haitian relief efforts.

That is all.  Thank you. THANK YOU!

For anyone who’s familiar with yoga, whether you’ve practiced regularly, been to a class or two, or simply walked by, it probably won’t surprise you to hear that many yoga teachers like to give students (yogis) something to think about during that class, in addition to guiding. This morning, as I situated myself in child’s pose on my mat at 6:00, the teacher read a quote about how to become a butterfly. The answer: “You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

I can find this quote all over the Internet, and several different people are credited with it, so I’m not sure of it’s origin. But what really struck me is how we can so distinctly misinterpret something, how we can misinterpret ourselves.

My entire life, if you would have asked me if I was willing to give up being a caterpillar, I would say “of course!” I have no fear. I am not afraid to say what I think, leave where I’m comfortable, and discover new things. Additionally, I would have thought that the quote itself was a little ridiculous, a little elementary. Pssssh! I am already a butterfly, and geez, I don’t need to talk about it. As the days go by now, however, I’m realizing more and more that I do need to talk about it. I do need to express what I want, and what I dream of.

It is one thing to quit your job, which, still, eight weeks later, I don’t regret.  It is quite another to turn that into a change that is about work, but is also about so much more. It’s changing my lifestyle.  That, right there, that is the part that I’m uncomfortable with. That is where I’m a caterpillar.

As you can imagine, I had a lot of questions to answer when I quit my job. I had a lot of people doubting me, and even more people supporting me, even as they were unsure. Skepticism and confidence can go hand-in-hand, that much I learned while making such a public, obvious move. What I didn’t know was that in order to move forward, and to grow, I’d have to continue to do it somewhat publicly and obviously.

Even though I did this, and I am the only one I have to answer to, it was not without the support of those around me that I made my way through it. In a lot of ways, the big part of this decision for me was not quitting my job, it was letting other people in on my life, and therefore on the things I was hiding before.

If any lesson can be learned from this, it’s that a huge decision or change in your life is probably not going to be about only that one change. If you let it, it’s going to grow and turn into something else entirely, and something you’ll need even more time to figure out.  Eight weeks later and I’m just now learning this, and just now realizing that you can’t just think yourself out of being a caterpillar. There’s a lot more to it.

There’s always a lot more to it.