This was a post I originally began writing last night about how I felt run over by life yesterday and everything was just so angsty and inexplicably strange. But then the electricity went out just as I was ready to publish and I heard voices outside my house. It was only my neighbors, because apparently a power outage somehow signals them to all walk the streets shirtless, beer in hand. I would make a crack about how money can’t buy class or something, but I was honestly torn between joining them and screaming out the window to shut up, some of us are trying to go to bed! Perhaps it was a sign from above because today I am not feeling so much like my seventeen-year-old self, thankfully.

If you’d have told me at seventeen that at thirty I’d still have days when nothing but whining and eating Doritos made sense, I don’t think I would have believed you. But isn’t it exciting that we never really have to completely give up whining Doritos?!

Nevertheless, I did have these photos included in that post as I felt each of them illustrated something about how I was feeling yesterday, floating, not real, sort of loopy, sort of angry, sort of grounded, and fine.  It makes even less sense now, I think.  But I’ll still leave in the photos because although my seventeen-year-old self had a lot of things figured out, she also would have never believed she’d see all this.

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First, let me just start with this: my mother has a new found love for the Internet. Since my last post, she now loves everyone, and says thank you from the bottom of her heart, and is convinced that the entire blog world is all nice people with nice things to say. Let’s just allow her to live in that world. Okay then.

A few years ago, I remember listening to the radio as some deejays whose names I cannot remember were talking about someone whom I also cannot remember, and they said something like “man, that guy pretty much wins at life.” Apparently, this guy, probably a celebrity and/or professional athlete, had everything these guys thought life was about. No doubt money, talent, stuff, good-looking people surrounding him, a huge career, and maybe even a really cool dog. I don’t know.  The part that stuck with me was the “winning at life” part.

I remember thinking about that when I heard it, and how relative that is, and how yeah, that guy at that moment probably was winning at life that day.  At the time, I didn’t have quite the same attitude. For whatever reason, probably just a side effect of being in my mid-twenties, I didn’t feel like the biggest winner. Not to say I was a loser, but I will admit the better part of the last ten years of my life were spent two ways: either getting somewhere, or thinking about how to get somewhere. Not unusual, right? I mean, who doesn’t think about that when they’re 25, and clueless, and too caught up in their own head to realize they may not actually even like any of the things they’re spending all their time doing? I know I wasn’t alone. In short, I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wasn’t winning at life.

I believed I was on my way, sure, but I was still too stupid to realize what I do now, that the win is mostly about me.  And you guys, I don’t know if it’s just summer or how awesome I feel every day just to be able to enjoy it, but right now I am so all about the win. I mean, I’m not even kidding, I go around doing laundry, and planting flowers, and running errands, and doing dishes and the entire time, every day, I just cannot believe how much I love it. It makes me want to scream, in a good way, that I love dishes. I don’t even understand that sentence.

The weirdest part is, I have all kinds of reasons to not feel this way. I mean, this is the Internet and there are things I cannot talk about right now, but trust me when I say that pretty much everything is weird and new and uncertain at the moment.  I have tried several different paths, sometimes it feels like a million different paths, and nothing, NOTHING, is working like I thought it would. I have reasons to crawl into bed in a ball and never leave. But that urge, it never comes. And no, I’m not drinking more, nor do I have any drugs, prescription or otherwise, which I did seriously consider in the past.  It’s so weird, because that urge, that feeling used to come. It used to happen all the time. I have no idea how I learned to live day-to-day like this, and have faith, and know that everything I dream of is somehow in the process of working out and it’ll somehow go just how I think it will and also, not at all how I think it will.

Does any of that make sense? Because, people, I don’t think I have any other way of explaining it.  Every day just comes and goes, and I am hard pressed to find anything wrong with any bit of it, even the scary parts. The future is just there, and I am just here, and neither “place” is fighting the other.  And I win.

I realize that by just concentrating on the [expletive!] water bugs in my last post that it may seem to some that I didn’t really have anything else to say about the trip, and that I didn’t really appreciate being able to go. Neither of those is true. In fact, I can hardly explain here or anywhere just how fortunate I feel—both this time and every time— when I get to return from a trip to my favorite place and tell stories about it.  I know every day that I’m lucky.

With each trip, it does become a little to easy for me to just expect to love it, to expect it to feel the way it does. I expect to spend time with friends, to meet new friends, to have a great time and remember, with each and every visit, just what it is I value in my life.

And this:

Ooof, I just looked at this post. It’s really long.  Here’s the thumbnail version:  I stayed in a cabin on the beach. There happened to be cockroaches in the cabin. I did not like it AT ALL, but in the end, I forgive the beach. Oh yes, I forgive the beach.

Here I am, on a Wednesday, as usual, ready to sit down and write about my latest life revelation… kidding. Yes, I have had several, and the only people more tired of that than me is probably you.  So! Instead! I also just remembered that this time about ten days ago, I was on my seventeen billionth drink of the day, right in front of my mother, because I had slept outside on the beach all night in intermittent rain. And got eaten by mosquitoes and, I’m certain, no less than 400 other kinds of sand-dwelling bugs throughout the night.

So let me back up. A couple weeks ago, my mother and I took a trip to the Virgin Islands. It’s no secret around here that I have a slight addiction and it’s sort of my Life List to get everyone I know and love down there with me at some point in my life, both individually and as one huge-ass group. But, in all the times I’ve visited over the years, my mother has never been along for the ride. The furthest into the Caribbean we’ve gone together was the Bahamas, and that happened to be during spring break (I was already past the “spring break! wooo!” age)  and I was pretty sure at that point my mother thought every beach bar was only about getting drunk and seeing who could dance on the bar first.  (Okay, so she isn’t too far off on that one.)

Nonetheless, we finally got to take our trip a couple weeks ago, and as part of my wanting to try to pack multiple experiences into eight days, I asked her if she’d be up for staying in a beach cabin for a night or two. She was.  I went to every length I could to tell her how this “cabin” would be: real beds, refrigerator, electricity, no A/C, screens, slight breeze, steps from the beach, etc.  Very basic, but livable, especially for just a couple days.  She, surprisingly, was up for it.

We arrived on the island at about noon, dropped our things in our beach cabin, and went out to explore (read: immediately find all of my favorite bartenders and friends).  We then came back to the cabin, showered, changed, and went to the barbecue at the beach bar just steps from where our cabin was.  It’s a heck of a set up, right?  There is never a moment wherein I forget just how blessed I am to experience these things.  And while we’re at it, if you’ve never attended a traditional Caribbean beach bar-type barbecue, get that on your Life List as soon as possible. Unless you hate amazing food. And people. And laughter. And music. And pretty much all good things in this world. Do it, immediately.

After we were stuffed full with fish, ribs, chicken, and seven million traditional side dishes, we slowly shuffled our way back to our cabin, still hearing the music of the barbecue along with the soft waves on the beach in the background. It couldn’t have been more perfect sleeping conditions, and with just 3 hours of sleep the night before, I could not wait to sleep. I unlock the cabin door, step inside, flip on the light, walk about two steps to put my bottled water in the fridge, look down at one of the beds, and see the biggest @#$%! cockroach I have ever seen in my life.  Okay, deep breath. Don’t make mom panic.  “Um, what is that?” I ask, hoping I am hallucinating.

I can handle a lot of things, I KNOW bugs and critters come with the territory in the tropics. It’s a fact of life. Geckos, mosquitoes, sand fleas, and yes, even cockroaches happen. That’s how it is.  But, Lord help me, I cannot bear the thought of sleeping among cockroaches. So I breathe deeper.

“It’s definitely a cockroach,” my mom says, and so I freak out a little, try to kill it, of course miss and don’t kill it at all, and now it’s under the bed.  Okay, well it can run away. It will go out. There’s just one.

Except, no.

There’s not just one. I go over to my bag, to pull out my clothes, and there’s more.  THERE’S LIKE FIVE MORE.  And if I were the kind of person that used expletives on her blog, this is where you’d see a lot of EXPLETIVES ON THIS BLOG.  I couldn’t take it, people.  And although she was much more calm than me, my mother couldn’t take it either.  Then, I remembered!  This wasn’t my first time in a beach cabin, and I knew just what to do!  Several years ago I stayed in a beach cabin with friends while on a trip to Hawaii. Hawaii, also the tropics, also no stranger to the cockroach. And, yes, they were in the cabin.  Our solution? Sleep with the lights on. Cockroaches scatter when exposed to light. They do not like it. And in Hawaii, that solution worked.

So then that was going to be our solution here, too. We would just keep the light on.  Okay, fine. So we clean out every last corner of our bags, shake out every piece of clothing, reseal it all, and get ready for bed.  Just as we think we’ll maybe get some sleep tonight, THE [EXPLETIVE] POWER GOES OUT. ON THE WHOLE [EXPLETIVE] ISLAND.

Seriously? Yes, seriously.

By some miracle of intelligence, I had brought flashlights on this little adventure, so I got them out immediately, in the dark, feeling like things were crawling on me the entire time, and there my mom and I sat, staring at each other, sitting on the ends of our beds, flashlights in hand, wondering what we were going to do next.  By this time, the music has ended. People are stumbling to their beds, and on and island of only a few hundred people, and at past 10:00 p.m., we were out of luck.  There was going to be no one to help us figure out what do to. We had to be our own heroes. And so we sat.

I knew, because of past experiences with power outages on this island, that not only was this the usual, but the idea of the power coming back on that night was a pipe dream. Yes, there are some generators, but not here and certainly not on order at 10:00 p.m. for two women who are gagging themselves over the sight of some measly bugs.  And yes, I know some people would have just gotten over it, but I couldn’t, we couldn’t. I knew just how many cockroaches I’d seen, and that thought wasn’t going to leave my mind that night, or ever.

Finally my mom looks at me, stands up, and says “Get your sheet and pillow, we’re going to the beach.” The thought had crossed my mind, sure. My first instinct was to get the heck out of there. But I knew what waited in the sand, too. All those other creatures I’d mentioned, the sand fleas, the MOSQUITOES, they were all out there waiting, too.  But, what choice did we have?  I couldn’t stay up through another night, and I’d sooner die than sleep in pool of cockroaches, and so we sprayed ourselves down in bug spray, wrapped ourselves in our sheets like burritos, and tried to sleep on two chaise lounge chairs just a few feet from the ocean.

It sounds kind of nice, right? Kind of fun, adventurous even, right? And I guess it was. I mean, there were some light intermittent rain storms, and yes, there were bugs, and that beach was desserted as I often find myself wishing every beach were.  The only light were two or three mast lights reflecting in the bay, and the bright, bright moon when a rain cloud wasn’t blocking it. It was nice. But it was also pretty rough, and unplanned, and would have been a lot better had I had a really strong drink before heading out there.

We made it through the night though, and as usual, I ended up with all the mosquito bites and again only about 3 hours of sleep.  A little later in the morning, we walked down the beach, and my favorite beach bartender and friend put his arm around me and said “You look like you had a rough night.” I looked up at him and said “cockroaches” which is how just ten days ago at this time, I was on my seventeen billionth drink of the day, right in front of my mother, because I’d slept outside on the beach all night in intermittent rain.

We moved into a real room, sans bugs, the following night.  I do not blame the island, nor the cabin owners, nor the people that have stayed there cockroach-free in the past. I only blame myself, my wimpy, wimpy self.

The End.  THE [EXPELTIVE] END.

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.

I have probably become far too philosophical for my own good around here lately. It’s like once a week I have these deep thoughts that have to be purged and so I do and then I think wow, how can a person not look crazy after all of that? And anyone who’s kept up is probably thinking the same thing. Working, then not working, then working again, then not so much working. Happy, then not happy, then happy again, and then still happy but also thinking way too hard and so then sort of unhappy. Oh, poor me, with the luxury of worrying about happiness. I know.

But of course life hasn’t stopped amidst all of this, and if I took the time to write out in detail everything that’s going on, it still wouldn’t really matter because crazy things happening and major life challenges just don’t take a break. I mean, I’m talking long-lost relatives calling out of no where craziness. I’m talking weird, weird news and phone calls. It’s weird, y’all, and I still don’t have a permanent job/career move happening, so everything else feels pretty unsettled. Except for the fact that I am still overwhelmed daily by just how OKAY I feel about everything, it’s hard to express that without sounding like a crazy person. Like someone who’s living in a fantasy and has lost her mind completely and who’s going to end up in a bad, bad situation.

And while those thoughts cross my mind, I just don’t think it’s going to get that bad. I can’t explain things like this, and I guess who can? But when you say it out loud, to people who don’t seem to understand quitting a job and losing income and pretty much putting everything you’ve worked hard to have in 16 years in jeopardy, then yeah it does sound pretty crazy.  But you know what? I am healthy, my family is healthy, I play Scrabble with my grandmother and I do her chores so she doesn’t have to, I spend time with family and my adorable nephew, I have hikes and long dinners with friends, people to support me, and over all life isn’t just good it is damn good. It’s like hitting a jackpot, except that jackpot is filled with everything except money.

It’s a roller coaster, pretty much daily, because I know that this can’t go on forever. And I know that while there is every possibility of a very good road, there is also the same possibility of a very bad road. I guess the only thing I know for sure is that the difference between those roads is, apparently, faith and paying attention.  Everything I’m doing or have done has probably not been the right thing. I get that. It’s been risky and stupid and, in a lot of opinions, crazy. I could very well be (for lack of a more intelligent phrase) screwing myself for the rest of my life. It’s true.  But right now, looking around me, looking at the immediate minutes and hours and days ahead, I don’t feel screwed at all.

I just feel lucky.

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.

It’s May. Memorial Day is in a few short weeks. Yesterday, it snowed here in Colorado, which is not entirely different than every day last week. So, while most people are making their summer plans, because it’s warm again and that’s what you do when it’s warm again, some of us are still just trying to get by. And wondering if our furnace will ever get a break.

Another little caveat of this, a First World Problem, if you will, is that getting into “summer shape” is a lot harder when you’re still wearing fifteen layers of clothing to keep warm. No, I cannot imagine dressing for the beach and the pool and the lake when I can still see my breath, thank you. But that is reality– it’s almost time to wear less clothing. Yippee.

I also have another reality I’m going to have to face right now: I’m stuck at home for a while.  I’ve just started new work, and it’s a LOT of work (thank ya, Lord!) and I have to spend some time rebuilding the cushion that let me live this imaginary life of leisure for the last six months. I have to work again, and I have other people depending on me to work again. It seems so boring compared to doing whatever I want, doesn’t it?

These things are nothing to complain about. I realize that.  And yet, I will.

Because, as usual, all I really want is to be back at the beach.

Happy friggin’ Monday.

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.

Apparently I’d forgotten I have a blog all week. Other than my crazy love tirade, the entire week has passed yet again before I knew it. I feel like I need a break and have no good reason for it.

This being a holiday week and weekend, a lot of people might already consider themselves on a break. But, when we’re talking this kind of break there’s never really a bad time for it. I think you’ll know what I mean.

Come with me and enjoy a short but lovely 19 seconds at sunset, below:

Boatin’ at sunset from Lesley G on Vimeo.

Big thanks to my friends Deb and Jay! They know what it’s all about.