Friday Miracle.

Hi friends!  It’s been a wonderful weekend of good friends and good wine, and looking at mummies and dinosaur fossils.  I hope yours was equally magical!

dino-skulls

This week, I was given a tiny miracle.  Years ago, my mom gave me the Elsa Peretti “J” necklace from Tiffany & Co. for Christmas.  It was special and beautiful and helped me feel like I fit in at college, and I wore it every day, including on my first trip to Africa.  We arrived in Botswana during a summer heatwave, and shortly after, the pendant tarnished.  Not understanding you could polish it, I was angry with myself for being so irresponsible.  I mentioned it to one of the professors leading the trip (an incredible woman filled with curiosity and kindness), and she said, “but isn’t that the point of silver?  It tarnishes, and then it un-tarnishes.”

This necklace has traveled with me to Scotland and Europe, Costa Rica, East Africa, southern Africa, India, New York, and Denver.  In moments of stress, or when I need to feel grounded in familiarity, I touch it like a talisman that hangs against my chest.  Then, several months ago, I lost it.

When you gradually become a stranger to yourself, your soul begins to send up smoke signals.  I had been ignoring some underlying unhappiness for so long that I began to forget things – unusual for me and frightening.  I would remember having something in my hand and then have to wander the house in search of it.  Most times I left the grocery store, I’d stop at the blacktop edge of the parking lot, searching for my car while feeling like a lost child at a theme park.

So when I took the necklace off, I was careful to note that I was zipping it into a pocket in my ski coat. I waited a couple of days to search for it, and when I did, it was gone. I spread the coat out on the floor, where I sat and searched each pocket twice, once again feeling the sting of failing to take care of something so important to me.  This was a consequence, I thought, of allowing myself to become such a mess.

Over the past couple weeks, with help, I’ve been working towards a fresh start.  Hoping to live in gratitude and connection; be a brighter light and find ways to help others; embrace change and possibility.

Friday, I wore my ski coat to work.  In the middle of a meeting, I stood up and started searching the pockets.  “I keep thinking I’m going to have a Carrie Bradshaw moment,” I said, “even though I’ve searched so many times.”  I pointed to a pocket with a button hole.  “I’m afraid I put it into this pocket, since it has a hole.”  I reached a fingertip into the bottom corner of the pocket, just like I’d done ten times before, and felt the cold links of a fine silver chain.

I was gleeful as I untangled a knot in the chain so I could return the necklace to its rightful place.  As I worked, the pendant, which bears the first letter of my name, seemed to whisper, “you’re on the right track.  You’re on your way.”

Isn’t that the point of this life?  Sometimes we tarnish, but with hope, love, and a brave heart, we can become new again.

New Year/New Tune.

Happy New Year, friends!  During this first week of this new year, I’m adjusting my typical New Year routine.  Most years, I sit down with a pad of paper and a fresh pen to write my New Year goals.  (In our family, we like to have goals to which we aspire as opposed to resolutions we break.)

These goals are generally variations on a theme:

  • Work out three times a week, minimum.
  • Eat (and cook) healthy foods.
  • Volunteer.
  • Publish a writing piece.
  • Etc.

As for everyone, these lists boil down to, “THIS YEAR, I’m gonna do it.  I’m gonna be perfect.”  Then, naturally, I decide I’ll cut back on wine after I finish this one bottle (it’s  open, after all), pack a gym bag that ends up on the floor of my closet, donate $50 to help kids in Africa and call it a day.

The next January 1, I rummage around for a notebook, and the previous year’s goals rear up like last night’s garlic.  My failure is both pungent and stale.

Thankfully, this year, I was saved: pulled off the demented merry-go-round by my Christmas and New Year’s visitors!  My mom and step-dad arrived December 23 and stayed with me until January 1, and it was a special and meaningful visit.  We attended a candlelight Christmas Eve service at the church around the block, cooked filet mignon for Christmas dinner, and watched the whole first season of The Crown.  We took Bella girl on walks around the neighborhood and a hike near Red Rocks.  They led the charge as we worked together to transform my house into a home: a place I’m proud to live.

window-frames

We turned these old basement windows into cool frames for photos from my travels!

Most importantly, we talked for hours over home-cooked meals and re-heated tea about our histories, our fears, and our dreams.

One transformational tidbit they shared was that before they write their New Year’s goals, they write a reflection of the previous year.  This might sound self-explanatory.  Perhaps everyone does this and I missed the memo!  But this year, after writing for over an hour about all the things that wounded or cheered me, all the personal triumphs and dark, lonely moments, and the many memories created with family and friends, my New Year’s goals are different.

Here are a few of my goals/thoughts/mantras for 2017:

  • Think outside the box!
  • I forgive myself; I forgive others; others forgive me.
  • Spend time being creative, in whatever form it takes.
  • More tea.
  • Better wine.
  • Give myself the gift of taking Bella to the groomer for a real bath more often.
  • Remember I can always move things to another shelf.
  • Daydream.
  • Deep breaths.
  • Sit with my own feelings.
  • Practice feeling my truth and trusting it – so I can speak it.
  • Focus on moments of peace, beauty, happiness, and joy.
  • I love myself; I love others; others love me.
  • Find ways to be a bright spot and have a positive impact.
  • Gratitude.
  • More deep breaths.

I’ll still donate money, and I’ll probably pack the occasional forgotten gym bag, but this time around I intend to do it with a grateful heart.  I am healthy, relatively wealthy, and very loved.  I’m starting this race with the medal already around my neck.  Now I just get to run.

Happy New Year.  Happy new tune.

Blessings to you all.