The summer of 40 and 100.

This was the summer of my 40th birthday and my great-aunt's 100th. Her birthday was July 2, which was a great way to reclaim that date. There was a big family reunion the week before her birthday, so I went down to where she and her children live, and my parents came up. More family met up there, then we all drove out to the middle-of-no-where West Virginia, to a camp resort where even more family people I'd never met before converged. Most were from the side of my great-aunt's late husband's family, and I didn't know them since I am from my great-aunt's side. (My grandfather was her brother.) It was great to meet and get to know the extended family.

While I was down there, before we went to the camp in no-cell-phone-reception-West-Virginia, I introduced them to my boyfriend via the magic of the Internet. We had hoped he would be able to come on the trip, but he had to work, so we did the next best thing. My second cousins were eager to meet him, and I wanted him to meet them all. As I sat down with my great-aunt and was in the process of connecting to my boyfriend using Google Chat video, I glanced over to my right and saw a stereoscope casually sitting on the table beside me. I thought about how much change my almost-centenarian great-aunt has seen in her lifetime as I watched her video chat with my boyfriend.

Résilience.

This morning I watched this video about a goat that made me cry. The concern and commitment of the caregivers was moving, but it was seeing the little goat's determination that left me with tears running off my face and dropping onto my sternum. The goat kept going, despite adversity, with an attitude that I interpret as thankfulness. And not happiness, but joy. I was taught from an early age that joy is different than happiness because it is independent of external circumstances.

The other day I saw that a library in my town had added the word "résilience," written in huge silver capital letters, all across one side of the building. It's much larger than a billboard, and I took it as a message of encouragement from the universe to keep going. It is a reminder that that we can bounce back from adversity, that the human spirit is strong.

A slow train to spring.

Crocuses are late
Only snowdrops have arrived
A slow train to spring
— Kim Philipps, 48, Bronxville, NY. 

I thought spring would come with Easter. 

It was gorgeous outside this afternoon on my walk home from work. I enjoyed the sun and thought about how I felt at home in my town. Recently, I spent too much time online looking for the (seemingly nonexistent) perfect pair of gladiator sandals in Canada. Despite this, I still feel like I am somehow in between winter and spring.

Choosing thanks.

As I sit at home with Booboo in my lap, I look at the snow outside and think of life and it's unexpected turns. Sometimes life's surprises are exhilarating, sometimes they're excruciating, and sometimes they're just...different.

It's American Thanksgiving, but since that's not a holiday here, it feels like a normal day. Thursday. Except it's not just Thursday, so I am choosing to focus on what I am thankful for today. I have a purring Booboo in my lap, I have a home to live in that is within walking distance of most of what I need, I have a job I enjoy (and freelance opportunities I love), and family and friends that love me and support me. I am lucky...blessed...and thankful. I'm also thankful for hope that everything will be alright in the end and that life has good things in store for me in the future, despite the hell of these past months. It may not always feel that way, but I will choose to believe it anyways. Life does have a way of surprising us, after all.

Comfy shoes.

Credit: Adventures Along the Way

Booboo is the best. I just love him. Who could resist that little face? He's been so affectionate with me these last months...more than normal. I guess he's taking care of me.

Systems.

My to-do list perpetually stays long. However, I decided that this year I would tackle some of those things that just have been hanging on the list forever in a state of unfinished (or never begun) limbo. And one of the first things I implemented was a new system for chores. I decided that my former approach of cleaning the apartment all at once in hours-long massive cleaning sessions at periodic intervals didn't really contribute to how I wanted to live. At this stage of life, I would rather spend about twenty-five minutes every day doing chores. I created a schedule and divided all my household tasks into small, specific tasks for every day except Saturday. (S prefers to do his chores all at once, so he does his stuff his way.) What I love about my new system is that the apartment stays in a relatively consistent state of cleanliness, and every room is cleaned once a week. The idea of surprise drop-in guests no longer makes me feel embarrassed because the apartment is no longer oscillating between clean and complete chaos. This is a rather dramatic change from my previous approach, and I must say that I really prefer this little-bit-every-day method.

At the same time as the chore schedule went into place, I came up with a new system for our laundry area, which is in our bathroom. We had this piece of furniture in the bathroom, storing sheets. I realized that I could store the sheets elsewhere and use the drawers to pre-sort laundry. So, we have three drawers and a white laundry hamper to sort our darks, reds, white, and other/medium colors. Thankfully, we have discovered this system takes almost no effort at all, and the added benefit is that at any given moment, I can simply look inside the drawer or hamper and see if I need to do a particular load to stay on top of things. The pre-sorting drawers are right across from the laundry machines, making it all so easy that I no longer procrastinate on doing laundry because I don't want to bother sorting it all. It has also eliminated the annoyance of navigating islands of overflowing piles of sorted laundry on the bathroom floor.

These little changes are having a big impact on the daily rhythms of my life and my feeling and sense of being in our home. Though these changes are small, they feel like an important step towards living the life I want to be living. Minimizing the chaos in our apartment makes me feel calmer and more focused internally, helping me find the motivation to work on other projects, including my current headache inducing to-do project of catching up on some long-term administrative paperwork for our household. Ah....it will feel good when I cross these things off my list some day in the not-too-distant future.

The Happiness of Now.

This week, I read a thought-provoking New York Times article called, "When The Mind Wanders, Happiness Also Strays." After research into mind-wandering (both positive day-dreaming and also worrying) and happiness levels, the conclusion is that people fully focused in the moment are more happy than even those who are day-dreaming about something positive. The article references the idea of "flow," which is simply when one is fully focused on the moment and what one is doing in that moment. You know when you get so caught up in doing something and completely lose track of time and everything else? That is "flow" and this article says that it is the state of highest happiness. The article also points out that, at any given moment, forty-seven percent of people have wandering minds. So, about half of all people are not Fully Present in any given instant. Which I find discouraging. And totally believable, given how "connected" (distracted?) our society has become overall. (And I include myself in this assessment.)

Thinking back to a particularly intense summer of theatre training and the idea of "flow" and focus, I am reminded of how all the training came down to the idea of being focused, present, and completely open in every moment onstage. One of the instructors said it was as if, when each foot landed on the stage, the left foot said "I'm here," followed by the right foot's own equally strong assertion, "I'm here." Actors in this deep state of focus who also can maintain openness are completely compelling onstage. Often focus in life creates tunnel-vision, but this training emphasized acting with focus while maintaining openness. It was difficult, beautiful, invigorating, and exhausting. And although this state of awareness is amazing, it is important to point out that living at this state of deep awake-ness to everything-all-the-time in life would be unhealthy and unsustainable. It is good to be able to tune out some things while in transit or sleeping or whatever. That ability keeps us sane.

Anyhow, that summer was the most physically challenging thing I have ever done, but it was amazing to spend so much of the summer actually being in the moment. In my head, I am all about the idea of seizing the day, but in reality, I am much more the kind of person who spends the present planning for the future. However, this training required so much energy and focus, there was only enough to give to the present. I don't remember worrying much that summer; I just remember existing moment to moment, as each day fully stretched me and allowed no room for the unnecessary. The experience was life-changing and courage-instilling. I felt like if I could survive that summer, I could do anything. When the summer ended, I went back home and started acting on one of my Big Dreams. And I pulled it off, then rested a bit because it was rather exhausting. Then, when I was ready, I pursued two other Big Dreams, at the same time. And that led to an international move, job change, and new adventures. And some fatigue. Going after dreams is invigorating and sometimes tiring, because pursuing Big Dreams is hard work, after all.

I guess it would not be an overstatement to say that summer of training changed the course of my artistic journey, which changed the course of my life. Here I am, over four years after that summer training program, in a different country, several projects later. I am mid-project on a project I care very much about, but am currently in a not-so-fun part of it. It's hard to stay focused on this part that feels So Very Much Like Hard Work, so I can get to the part I am most passionate about. I want to plow through to the other artistically fun side of the project though, and I am taking steps to get there. But realistically? It's going to take a while. And that feels disheartening.

And in moments every now and then, my mind my wanders off into the land of "what ifs" and I find myself confronting the unknown, wondering about this project and how it will end up, and questioning the bigger picture beyond this project. Will I be able to pursue a career in theatre in Québec? What about language- how is that going to impact my career here? Will I have to have a soul-killing day job just for the income? Are there other things I am interested in pursuing as a career or side-career that might actually be able to bring in income? I have a lot of passions and interests, but I don't know how many actually have income-potential. And then the possibility of having a kid someday floats around in there too, but I won't get into that now, because I only have so much energy and ability to handle unknowns, you know?

So, I sorta I feel like I am in-between career islands. I feel amazed to have ended up where I am and to have had the experiences I have had thus far, but I'm not so sure exactly where I want to go from here and what might be possible given where I now live. And since I don't know those answers right now, maybe it's best to focus on the present and hope the rest becomes more clear in the not too distant future. Maybe I can stop feeling in-between and just stop and look at my left foot and say, "I'm here," and follow through with the right one after it? Yes, that is what I think I will work on for now.

PS. Interestingly, this article I also read the same day in the NYT talks about Mark Rylance and improv, addressing the idea of being present and fully open. Maybe I am supposed to get the message?