Treading versus Swimming.

"Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim." -Tyler Knott Gregson

Sunrise swim lessons in life

Today was an extremely full day, so I knew what I had to do this morning- head straight to the pool for some active meditation. There's something so calming and womb-like about the water pre-dawn, when only the pool lights illuminate your arm stroke and the remnant stars greet you when you flip over and swim backstroke. This quote came to mind as I was swimming, anticipating the day ahead and realizing that it would be busy- yes- but filled with all the things that I had invited into my life and wanted to build.

When life is brimming over with activity, it's easy to feel as though you're drowning…but remember that you are constantly curating your own life, and at the end of the day, if you're following your passion, it becomes easier to find your rhythm and glide towards your destination.

And just like in the pool, I know that relaxing into it versus thrashing around, is the more sustainable, long-term, preferred way to move across the water.  I'm hoping that even in the future when 'busy' starts to boil over, I'll always opt for the smooth and graceful stroke above water. And I'll be sure to occasionally flip on my back once in awhile to enjoy the view of the glimmering stars.

That Smile.

"It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living." -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Las Trampas sunrise...

Lately I've realized that as I walk down the street and pass strangers, I naturally smile, unaware that I'm actually smiling, until they reciprocate with a genuinely happy smile. My lips turn up into an even wider grin for such a beautiful and free exchange of unsolicited love.

Someone once told me that outside Oprah's makeup room hangs a sign that says, "Please take responsibility for the energy that you bring into this space." All life is energy and we are transmitting it at each second. We are all beaming signals like little radio frequencies, and the world is responding in kind. I believe this, and it applies not only for a make-up room, but for all the rooms in our lives.

As Preston Smiles (no pun intended) would ask, "What would love do in this moment?"

It's always a good question to ponder. And while you're thinking about that, smile. It makes the world a sunnier place.

Casting Out the Line.

Seen from my climb today up Calaveras...

After an amazing solo bike ride (Oh, how I've missed you, mid-week miles!), I called my dad to ask him what he wanted to eat for his birthday dinner that I'm hosting on Saturday. I'd already heard from the rest of the peanut gallery what they wanted to eat, so I wanted to go straight to the Source, the Birthday Boy himself. He was fishing, so I got his voicemail, left my message and ended it with, "I hope you caught a lot of fish!!" He called me back a little while later, and apparently he didn't catch anything. Not.even.one.fish.

Waking up before dawn, packing up the car with gear, driving out to the lake…all for what? But I know that he's had many days like today, yet he still loves fishing more than I love riding my bike, and days like today are just part of the game, unfortunately. And at the same time, days like today will not derail him.

Yesterday I attended another open mic at Pegasus Books and a handsome fellow took the seat next to me. He inquired if I was going to read, and I shyly answered, "Yes." He looked down at my hands which were holding a book.

"You're going to read from your book?" he asked.

"Oh, gosh no, this is a book that I just bought," I stammered. "I'm reading this…" I wave a folded-up piece of white paper.

Today on my bike ride, I found, as I always do- that when the legs spin, the mind spins too. It got me thinking as my heart was pumping and the wind was blowing through my hair, how thrilling- yet also so unbelievably scary- it would be to one day be holding my own published book.

Fitting, since this quote came from the book I was holding in my hand, The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield. What a necessary and appropriate tool for everyone to read.

And so, it continues. Just like my dad, my deep-seated love is what drives me each morning to wake before dawn, gather my gear, take a deep breath, and write. I can only hope that after persistently casting my line out day after day, soon enough, there will be a worthy fish on the other end.

Upcycling.

"I stand in the mist and cry, thinking of myself standing in the mist and crying, and wondering if I will ever be able to use this experience in a book." -Erica Jong, Fear of Flying

Me too, Erica Jong, me too.

Stepping Into the Arena.

It is late on a Thursday night and I become aware of the outside light and how dusk subtly unveils herself over this little town of Pinole. The air behind these cafe windows is cool and crisp, and I sit here inside cozied up in the back corner with my latte and journal, where I've been for hours, writing. My hair smells of espresso and I notice how the closer the clock ticks to 7 pm, the more I am racing heart and twisting gut and short inhales. I have come here to write, yes, but really, I've come here to read. To read my own work during open mic.

A lil' caffeinated inspiration...

I watch nervously as a man in a checkered flannel shirt stands up on the stage and strums his guitar. All I notice is his greasy hair and long beard and think to myself that he's the kind of person I wouldn't want to sit next to on BART. My mind wanders because I'm concerned that my piece isn't appropriate for this audience, and how I've never been to an open mic here. I wonder if it's too late to dig through the weaved straw basket at the front of the stage and crumple up the piece of paper with my name written on it and hide it away in my pocket. It is always easier and safer and more comfortable to hide.

My thoughts are interrupted by an awkward silence. Then a strum. The guitarist has forgotten his lyrics. He fumbles around. We wait in anticipation. He finds his rhythm again and we all relax in our seats. Suddenly, I ignore the beard and the strange genre of music and I just see him- in all of his imperfection- and recognize his humanity, rawness and vulnerability on that stage. I recognize beauty. I hear myself clapping louder than the others around me because I am applauding his ability- more than anything- to show up and share his truth with this world.

Then, it is my turn and I feel the eyes on me as I walk towards the stage, adjust the microphone and sit on the wooden stool. I look out into the audience and am greeted with the eager eyes of young and old, men and women. I take a deep breath and my heart feels a strange calmness as I speak- these words that were conceived in the depths on my journal pages, words so near and dear to my heart that for the first time are being birthed out into the world, gasping for life-giving breath as they are caught and received and cradled by this captive audience.

I ignore my shaking legs and sweaty palms and smile in an effort to steady my voice. I continue to read, "Perhaps things aren't falling apart, maybe they are falling together," and I hear a voice from the darkness rumble, "HELL YES!" and suddenly it is no longer 'me' up here and 'them' out there- we are all connected. This umbilical cord of words allowing them to hear my truth, my heartbreak, my hope and I just pray from underneath the warm spotlights that somehow these words will offer a light to direct someone back home.

I breathe a sigh of relief when it's over, and I don't really hear the applause, I am marinading in my own feelings of sheer joy, for choosing courage over fear. A woman grabs my hand as I make my way back to my seat and says, "Thank you for sharing your words," and that alone makes it all worth it, stepping into that arena, daring greatly.

The guitarist comes up to me at the end of the night as he is walking away, we exchange affirming words and he tells me, "I really, really enjoyed your poem." And I nod graciously and think about how all of life is poetry- some of the lines ebb and flow and some don't rhyme at all, but somehow it all still works. I feel light and fluttery and alive. Suddenly, the room feels more expansive and I am aware of how spacious the world feels when you can freely express who you are, no longer bound or imprisoned by what other people will think.

We all have a unique voice and talents and words and stories to share with the world. Fear paralyzes most of us, but regardless of that, we must step into the arena, to dare greatly instead of looking in from the outside, wondering what would have happened if we actually showed up for our own lives. You'll find that once you enter into the arena, even though failure may still exist, you will experience a deeper contentment and freedom and respect for yourself.

The beauty of this Truth is that you don't have to write your name on a piece of paper and drop it into a basket, waiting for it to be called.

And you're not limited to only five minutes. Your entire lifetime can be your open mic.

We're all in this together. And if you forget, just look up. I'll be the one clapping the loudest from the back.

Running with the Mind of Meditation.

"The body benefits from movement, and the mind benefits from stillness." -Sakyong Mipham

Sunday morning movement.

I'm halfway through this book, and it's fascinating- mostly because it weaves together two major areas of my life…sport and meditation. I would have never guessed there would be so much overlap between the two, but apparently there is, and who better to describe the intersection than a Buddhist meditation master who also has nine marathons under his belt?

We've thought so long that these two activities are separate and vastly different from each other, but really that's the farthest thing from the truth. So read the book. Then drop into silence. Then lace up the shoes.

THINK.

I've learned lately how powerful our words can be. As a little girl, I loved the book "Silver Boxes" by Florence Littauer. It was such a strong visual that our words should be like little silver boxes with bows on top, making the receiver feel loved and warm.

Yesterday I spotted this on the trail and it seemed oddly out of place- bright pink letters splashed across a pipe, tucked underneath the moss and leaves of the dirt trail. But it caught my eye, and made me pause. Which is so valuable in this life where we are constantly rushing around, grabbing our coffee and not making eye contact with the barista and jabbering on our phones and erupting reactively with hurtful words that somehow slipped out of our mouths in the moment- so fast that we couldn't catch or retract them. And like arrows, they had already pierced the heart of the listener, spreading their poison into the veins.

So before you speak, THINK:

Is it True?
Is it Helpful?
Is it Inspiring?
Is it Necessary?
Is it Kind?

This is a good litmus test. Because our words form our thoughts, which ultimately turn into action.

So even if it seems as unnatural and out of place as those bright pink letters smack dab in the middle of a trail, try it. THINK before you speak. Who knows, the words you speak into someone may be the tiny acorns of life, and years later when you revisit that trail, you'll see how that mighty oak tree really did grow.

The Journey.

Some deep truths from Mary Oliver…

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice-
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stories.
But little by lithe,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do-
determined to save
the only life you could save.


Tonight I watched a segment with Tom Shadyac, who presented the topic of polarity- light/dark, life/death, abundance/loss.  We are taught from the beginning to run from trouble, disaster, danger, disturbance-  but in reality, this is the heart of all growth, of all of life.  It's what makes us better artists, better poets, better writers, better humans. How can we understand abundance if we have not experienced loss? How can we fully grasp the beauty of trust if we haven't first tasted the sting of dishonesty? Mary Oliver shared with Tom Shadyac that her poem "The Journey" was birthed from one of her most darkest and painful experiences. And yet, out of such a dark seed bloomed one of her most famous poems. It's true, all of life, with all of its duality, is a living and breathing art form in one way or another.

Write It Down.

"Pay attention to the weather, to what breaks your heart, to what lifts your heart. Write it down."

-Ellen Meloy

#oceantherapy

Today was all about exploring the coastal trail, sitting, writing and moving on to a new spot and repeating.

"I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order." -John Burroughs

I find it interesting how words easily come in and out, mostly steady like the waves. Sometimes there will be a bigger wave that crashes harder- sometimes it is painful, sometimes it is inspiring. The day was gorgeous, full of pelicans and seagulls and sand and scattered white fluffy clouds and hot chowder and delicious seafood.

Sunset from the deck of Sam's Chowder House

My 7-year-old niece got a hold of the book of poems I wrote for my dad's Christmas present. And now she is officially obsessed with poetry. It's endearing, but she also keeps me on my toes, constantly asking me to tell her a poem. On Friday, my brain started to hurt after awhile and I wanted to eat my dinner, so I changed it into a game where I would make up one poem stanza, and then pass the mic. This would give me 30 seconds to get in another bite of food before it was my turn again.

Last week, my mom took her to Lawrence Hall of Science and all she wanted to do was write a poem. So she sat there and began to write, "It was a blustery autumn day…" when my mom answered, "Kaia, it's winter time." She very matter-of-factly responded, "It's my poem. I can write whatever I want to."

She's only seven. And she's brilliant.

So the next time you feel stuck creatively, take her advice. Don't feel obligated to conform.

Write whatever you want to.

You will be pleasantly surprised.

Intention Setting.

"I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you make mistakes, 

then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, 

pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. 

You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something." 

 -Neil Gaiman

There was a lot of 'pushing myself' on today's New Year's Ride.
So good for the soul. And the legs.

January 1st. I'm so over New Year's Resolutions, goal-setting, blah blah blah. At the end of the day, I've realized that it's not necessarily the end-product or goal that we seek, but rather the feeling. Quitting smoking allows you to feel freedom. That trip to New Zealand to visit your family allows you to feel connected. Crossing the finish line of that Ironman allows you to feel strong, brave and courageous.

Rather than working from hard and specific goals to get desired feelings, what if we switched things around and started with the feelings? This is an expanded perspective, but focusing on the feelings FIRST will cultivate much more serendipity in our lives that will ultimately fulfill those desires in ways that we could have never possibly imagined.

No more New Year's Resolutions for me. Just intention-setting, if you will. I am cultivating these feelings in my life for 2015-

Creativity.
Connection.
Ease.
Abundance.
Gratitude.
Intimacy.
Service.
Joy.

I encourage you to do the same. Write them down, and see how all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve them. Ready??