Lessons I Learned in 2011

I am honestly ready for 2011 to be over. I quit my job and moved to a new city, and things have been up and down, but I'm taking the last day of the year to reflect on what 2011 taught me. 

• Things never go as I imagine they will. Be ready for change and adapt quickly. 
• Always put my keys in the same place. 
• Read something inspirational and thought provoking every day. 
• Don't focus too much on the past or future; instead live in the present.
• Know my core values and don't sacrifice them for anyone. 
• Do what makes me happy, even if others don't understand or approve. 
• Wear lipstick sometimes. 
• I am capable of much more than I think I am. 
• Surround myself with challenging but supportive people. 
• Know there has to be the yin and the yang, the up and the down, the rich and the poor, the hot and the cold, the light and the dark. 
• Use each obstacle and opportunity to learn and grow. 
• Push myself and know my limitations. 
• Breathe. 

I want to Live a Million Lives

Why I didn't stay here forever Les Calanques de Marseille

I had a pretty standard American upbringing in the sprawls of Atlanta. My parents and sisters loved and supported me, I got a good education, participated in extracurricular activities, went to church, excelled in school and learned to become an independent thinker and doer.

When I graduated college I decided I wanted to move to the South of France. My parents were less than thrilled at the idea of my moving across the Atlantic without a job and knowing no one. My mom asked me one day, "What do you want to do? I mean, what is your ultimate goal."

Without much hesitation I responded, "I want to live a million different lives."

Understandably she was shocked and confused, to say the least. But after two years of living in France, I had mastered the language, made friends, traveled all over Europe, and landed a job teaching high school English. I was happy, and my parents were proud of my success. 

Farming at La maison du vert 

Though I loved my life living and teaching in Provence, I started to get itchy feet again, and I decided it was time for another chapter, so I spent the summer working on organic farms in the French countryside. Idyllic doesn't even begin to describe my life that summer picking strawberries, making my own bread, planting rows of cabbage, feeding chickens, biking to castles, hitchhiking, and absorbing the kindness, knowledge and love that I came in contact with. 

But I had to keep living. I had many more lives to live. So I returned to the States and got my first "real job" working for the French Consulate in Atlanta. As my friends observed, I found perhaps the only job in Atlanta using both my French and Journalism degrees, both of which I thought would be useless pieces of paper that would forever remain rolled up in my closet. 

In addition to my charming carriage house apartment, I had a stable government job with five weeks vacation, I finished work at 2 pm on Fridays, and I had opportunities to meet politicians, diplomats, international artists, Nobel prize winners, and renowned museum curators. I loved this life, and I adored learning to love the city of Atlanta, but I noticed boredom and complacency were starting to creep into my life, so I began plotting my next move. 

I spent the winter rarely going out, meditating, doing yoga, saving money, and researching new cities and bigger opportunities. When asked why people rarely saw me, I told them that I was hibernating in my cocoon for the winter and added, "I will emerge with wings." Quietly and patiently, I plotted my escape, until the pull of New York City could no longer be resisted. 

I sold my scooter, bed and car. I packed my minimal belongings and bought a one-way ticket to  New York. And so here I am. Another soul among the millions. Lost as ever, but if I am going to live a million different lives, one of them has to be here, right? 

On Pretension

Appearing pretentious remains one of my biggest fears in most anything I do, most specifically in writing. What makes me an expert on anything? Why would anyone want to read my thoughts? What if what I say simply falls on deaf ears?

My humble upbringing in the South taught me not to flaunt anything, and my explorations in yoga and philosophy continue to compel me towards living a polite and simple life. Living in New York seems to be a contradiction of these ideals, as I have observed that the mantra here seems to be, "fake it til you make it." Yet there seems to be something within me that will not allow me to fake anything. Do it real, and do it right, or don't do it at all. 

It is most certainly a challenge living in a city surrounded by capitalism, greed and pretension. But I never could do things the easy way. 

It is important to me that this reminder appear here so that I will remember not to be pretentious in any of my writing. I will be confident, courageous and daring, but I will not feign any knowledge. I will not write to impress. I will not flaunt anything, rather reveal inner thoughts and outer observations. 

Falling

photo: kianarama

The feeling of falling is one of the most distinct and out of control feelings that makes up the human experience. Generally, it is not encountered too frequently, save for the occasional instances on a roller coaster, drifting off to sleep, or taking a fatefully unexpected misstep. It's nearly impossible to explain the chain reaction that takes place physically and mentally, yet this particular series of sensations could not be mistaken for anything other than an inherent and unconscious reaction to falling.

For a split second, time seemingly freezes, as all of your organs hold suspended in a sort of timeless, weightlessness. Time and motion halt for what may seem to last for minutes. Then, the descent. Everything drops and each tiny molecule inside of you instinctively reaches out in all directions, as if to grasping for a support, a stability, a balance. 

Everyone has experienced this sensation at least once in her lifetime, be it literally or figuratively. Hence the expression, "falling for someone." This uniquely exhilarating experience of endorphins and dopamine flooding the brain, are only felt in those rare instances when you are lucky enough to stumble upon one of those exceptional people who challenge you, motivate you, and give you the courage to let go, and fall. 

So we're all just exactly alike.

How is it that I can meet someone who is three years older than me, grew up across the country under completely different circumstances, and yet we still have the same humor, like the same things, speak the same slang, and like the same people? 


I've encountered this phenomenon a few times, where I meet someone who, I feel is my equivalent comedically and in relation to social views. I've come to realize that this is what mass communication and mass culture has done to us. This is the democratization of information. Sometimes I am shocked by what appears to be someone else "reading my thoughts." However they are really just thinking the same thing, because our brains have been influenced by the same factors. We were fed the same information, and are therefore processing in through the same filter.  


If our perception of reality is made up of our learning and experiences, then any two given two people who share many influences and experiences (ie reading the same magazines, seeing the same movies, following the same blogs, watching the same television) will have relatively similar reactions to the things they face. 


Of course, there will always be certain variables making each person an individual, and there will certainly remain to be people who have stark differences, but as my generation ages, and as I move around to different cities and countries, I notice that most of the people I meet all seem to share some common qualities. Be this a good or bad thing, the jury is still out.