Day 275 of 365: Outside Meditation

I've been trying to do "coffee yoga" as a daily thing, but it has definitely fallen by the wayside over the last couple weeks. I think about all the stuff I need to get done and I can't convince my brain that certain emails can wait, that certain bits of homework can wait, that life in general can wait until I give myself a whopping five minutes to sit and drink coffee and just breathe.


The weather has been consistently nice enough that we've brought out our patio chairs to our porch. Today, I decided to force myself outside this morning. I would love to say that being outside in nature on a tenderly brisk morning was all I needed and I got lost in the reverie, but, really, I still chugged my coffee like it contained the antidote. I got a few moments of pause in but I eventually got too antsy and brought myself back inside to make this and that phone call, fill out this and that cell in an Excel spreadsheet, and so on, and so forth.


If anything, it was a reminder that I do not need to be inside for everything. I can bring my laptop out and do whatever it is that I need to do outside. I can mull over whatever it is I need to mull over while going on a walk (especially a nature walk, since right now is the only time you can walk in my woods without being attacked by mosquitos). It's not going to be as simple as, "I'm outside and suddenly I'm zen," but a change of pace is always welcomed. It was enough to get me to take 4 or 5 deep, slow breaths, and that's 5 breaths more than I would've typically had on any given morning.


Today my husband and I drive all the way up to Belmont (which is north of Concord, so thar be dragons) to look at some more furniture for our house. Best believe my windows will be down, sunroof opened, enjoying this rare spring weather while it is still here.

Day 274 of 365: Just Not Caring

So photographer and old friend of mine, who relocated to New York sometime before I left Boston, decided to do a road trip around New England. One of his stop-offs was in my little town. We were able to explore the abandoned convenience store as well as the collapsed barn (and the far-more-legal park by the electric plant). We talked about what we were expecting from the shoot, and he replied with that he's been so burned out by the photography world that he doesn't even care if the images come out great. At this point, it's just about the experience and enjoying the day.


I was thinking about that with my tai chi class tonight. I can only describe what has happened over the last few months as bang and bust. I went for a long period where my classes were surprisingly full, where all I did was email people, answering their questions about tai chi.


And then ... bust.


I've been riding this wave for almost 9 months now. Classes going great at one yoga studio ... it goes out of business. Classes build up in new places ... and one of those places just falls through completely. Lots of students enrolling ... and now only one or two regulars.


At the end of the day, I cannot focus so much on the result of getting students. I'll burn myself out. Especially as a new teacher, I need to focus on the experience and learning how to conduct my class to the best of my abilities.


As a tai chi instructor, I've changed how I run my classes so many times at this point. From the verbiage to the whole format and timing. Now is the perfect time to test out new ways of running the class, when I only have a few people as my audience. Worrying about drawing so many students is as silly as worrying about how the images will come out.


So, like the photo shoot, I enjoyed today for exactly what it is. I practiced a new way of teaching a certain move that I hadn't tried before, I got to explore some parts of my town that I hadn't before, and I genuinely had a good time. Images and enrollment forms be damned.

Day 273 of 365: How to Handle Being a Social Introvert

Introversion and extroversion have to be some of the most confusing terms out there. "Introversion" and "introspection" or "nonconfrontational-ism" get used interchangeably. Extroversion is seen as constantly seeking out social situations and introversion is seen as constantly shying away from social situations. Extroversion is seen as being exciting and entertaining while introversion is seen as being a thoughtful observer.


I see introversion and extroversion the same way Carl Jung saw the two concepts: what makes you one or the other is based on how you get your energy. Do you feel energized by being around people or do you feel energized by being alone?


I consider myself a social introvert. I get my energy from being alone, but I crave social situations. I love being out and around people, but I find it incredibly draining. This can attribute to some level of quietness -- when it takes so much energy to talk to people, why would I do small talk? -- but a quiet person isn't necessarily an introvert.


As you can imagine, this is incredibly frustrating. I thrive on being alone -- I can't tell you how many times I've told my husband "I've run out of social" when being out for too long -- but it's not as fulfilling as engaging with a group. Likewise, if I'm out and around people for too long, I become downright antisocial, with no energy to even smile in response to whatever someone is saying.


So it's all about finding that balance, never spending too much time alone and never spending too much time around people. Which is not exactly easy. Sometimes you don't get a choice in whether or not you are around people, whether or not you are alone for extended periods of time. But there still has to be that balance.


I think the only thing more frustrating than a social introvert is an asocial extrovert, who craves being alone but gets their energy being around people. And even then, it's all about the balance. As the hardcore yogis would say, the sthira and the sukha.

Day 272 of 365: Taking it Slow

I have a half marathon coming up in three weeks. And I have a pulled hamstring tendon.


I originally injured myself during an intense yoga class. We were doing a certain stretch that I've always had issues with (namely, my back hunches over). The instructor suggested I reach out and to the side before lowering, which resulted in a twang in the back of my left knee. It honestly felt like someone snapped a very thick guitar string against the inside of my knee. The pain was minor, I backed out of the pose, and I went on with my day.


The next day, I go on a 6-mile run, and notice that my left leg has no interest in extending as much as the right leg. By the time I get back, that tendon that went twang the day before was sore as all hell. But I felt a little better the next day, so I went on with my usual routine. On Friday, I ran 9.5 miles with one of the best paces I've had in a while. However, by mile 5, I knew something was up with my knee. I ignored it and finished up the last 4.5 miles.


Saturday morning, I was limping.


I told my best friend that I was injured. When I told her what happened, she responded with, "Taking it slow was never your forte."


It never has been, plain and simple. I've gotten a lot better at it, now that I'm not teaching and I have the opportunity to only work part-time. But I still go way faster than I should. I pride myself on multitasking (I used to prattle on about planning a wedding in 9 months while a ton of other shit going on to anyone who would listen). I pride myself on accomplishing as much as I can accomplish; in making people shake their heads and go, "How in the world does she do that."


Our culture does not value taking it slow. We only value slow cookers because it means food will be instantly ready for us to eat the second we get home from a long day away. We value efficiency and speed and getting the most bang for your buck.


For the first time in a long, long while, I took it incredibly easy during yoga (which I had to go to, regardless of what had happened on Friday, because every day-long session starts out with a yoga class. Gone were my jump backs and jump throughs and crazy transitions. I actually gave myself that space to, I don't know, heal from a major injury. And it was probably one of my most fun yoga classes to date.


I'm taking the week off from running, even though every fiber of my being hates the idea of not just dealing with the pain for 3 more weeks and handling the injury after the half marathon. Because sometimes you just have to take it easy.

Day 271 of 365: Writing Fatigue

So here I am, the final lap of this writing endeavor. The number of posts left to write had dwindled down to the double digits. I'm so close, I can taste it. And today, I had the biggest desire to just say, "Fuck it."


It happens: some days are really busy for me and, to be frank, if I can't get it done in the morning, it's like hell to get it accomplished. Today was another day-long class session. On my drive back home, I thought about what I had to do once I got home: get started on some of the homework, nurse my pulled hamstring tendon that I got while running way too many miles yesterday (but more on that later), make dinner, and write an entry in this puppy.


And one little thought decided to crawl its way out of the cesspool of suck in the back of my mind and go, "Or, you could just skip it. You got close enough, right?"


The "close enough" attitude loves to rear it's ugly little head during pivotal moments, like when I ran my half marathon ("Woah, ten whole miles! That's a lot! Say, why don't you walk a few? Close enough!") or when I'm writing my third manuscript ("Look at all those words! Over 60,000 words! Why right more? Call it a day!"). Today, it decided to go against this project.


I've said it a million times before, but sometimes it really is a challenge to keep this going. Some days, I am just exhausted -- physically, mentally, emotionally -- and the last thing I want to do is prattle on for a few paragraphs. Sometimes, I get an idea stuck in my head and that day's post is the easiest I've ever done. But that has been happening with less and less frequency.


But hey, here I am, plodding out a post. A post about how I almost didn't write a post, but a post all the same. Because there are few things I hate doing more than abandoning projects. I see things through to the bloody end, if only because I'm too stubborn to know when to quit.


Much like my writing career in general. You'd think after over 200+ rejections from agency directors and literary magazines alike, I'd give it up already. But I keep on keeping on, because slowing down has never been my forte.


And on that note, I'm off to make dinner. Because I swore to myself after we moved to the house that I'd actually Learn How to Adult and make real meals for dinner -- which I've been good about, 9 times out of 10. The other time -- which usually happens if my husband is playing hockey that night and I'll be eating dinner by myself -- involves a lot of potato chips and whatever is in the fridge.

Day 270 of 365: The Absurdity of Looking Back

There are two main obstacles getting between me and finishing my third manuscript:


1) The overwhelming understanding that these last three chapters are where all the good shit goes down. Everything else has been a 200+ page setup for the final showdown, the fallout, and the resolution. If this were a run, this would be Heartbreak Hill: so close to the end, but your tank is on empty and you got an uphill climb ahead of you.


2) My overwhelming sense of perfectionism. If you read this blog with any level of attention, the idea of me being a perfectionist is probably hilarious (what is up, constant grammatical errors and homophone mixups. The joys of writing first thing in the morning when your body hasn't even absorbed your caffeine yet). This affects #1 a bit as well, but it is such a monster in and of itself that it deserves its own bullet point.


The biggest hurdles my perfectionism has created is the recognized need for editing. As I'm writing these perilous last three chapters, I'm already seeing parts of the story that will need additions, deletions, or complete rewrites in order to form a more cohesive story. And part of me wants to put on the brakes and go back for the rewrites.


If we're continuing the running metaphor, that right there is essentially stopping the racing to rerun a route. It just doesn't make sense. You can't get what you need to get done, done, if you are constantly looking back. The only thing I can do is look forward, finish this damn manuscript (which is starting to feel like a marathon run) and then go back. The same way runners will revisit course routes and running times and see where they can improve.


Ask any novelist: writing a novel is the most exciting, frustrating, confusing, debilitating thing you can do. It doesn't matter if you're on manuscript #1 or manuscript #101 (well, if you're hanging out with the likes of Stephen King with your 100+ manuscripts, maybe you have it down pat by now). While my previous manuscripts have given me a better sense of flow and arc, I'm still slashing my way through the woods with absolutely no idea exactly how I'm getting out. And it doesn't make any sense to go back and reroute certain trails in this metaphorical woods. Get out, take a breath, and then see what needs tweeking.


My gut is telling me that this manuscript is going to be worth the trouble it has been and will continue to cause me. But then again, my gut told me it was okay to send a manuscript to a potential employer today without rereading it, only to see that I had misspelled the person's name. My gut is a bit of a prick, so take that as you will.

Day 269 of 365: Then and Now

My house has been water-free for the last 8 or so hours. Something has been causing the pump that brings water from our well into the house to short-circuit. We tried playing around with the circuit breaker, but with no luck. We knew that the original owners had difficulty with the well before, so we dove into our filing cabinet to pull out the original paperwork our realtor gave us on the very first tour of this house.


Homeownership is a complicated business. We learned just how expensive it is to heat a house and just what can go wrong with a house. Combine this with a mortgage payment that is higher than your rent ever was (even while in the Boston area) suddenly you realize that there's a lot more to owning a home than essentially acting all the Re/Max commercial.


This is something we've learned pretty quickly in the 9 or so months we've owned a house. We learned within the first month just how frustrating it is to try to work alongside "professionals" when it comes to your house (hello, painting fiasco). We adore this house, we love the town and the neighborhood, but, getting a house is a lot like a puppy: way higher maintenance than you could possibly fathom.


Getting out those old papers, however, reminded me of how things felt "way back when". It was roughly this time last year that we started hitting the paving, looking for a house. And, much like homeownership, we started out the search not realizing just how tedious it can be -- and how, once you find the house of your dreams, just how frustrating the mortgage people can and will be.


And I remember our realtor sending us the link to this particular house. I remember adding it along with the five other houses that had just gone on the market to our Excel spreadsheet. And I remember how I kept coming back to it, even though we had house-tours scheduled for the next two weeks. I remember going to our first for the first time, walking around someone else's house with someone else's belongings and furniture, and knowing that I was home. Knowing that, despite the gaudy decorations and questionable wall colors, this was it. I remember looking at that packet a million times over, looking at the picture of the house in the far right corner, knowing that we were barely a few months away from calling it our own.


I stood outside our house this afternoon, chatting with the electricians who came over to fix the problem. I was in the corner of our lot that is opposite our driveway, which meant that I was looking at my house at an angle I don't usually see on my day-to-day. But it was roughly the same angle we saw our house when we pulled up that very first time -- far from the personal driveway of the people who owned it, and behind the SUV of our realtor's. It was a good reminder that, warts and all, we absolutely love this house and this was absolutely the right investment for us. It might not feel like it sometimes, when we're refilling our oil for the 3rd time that winter or we're shoveling out the driveway yet again, but this is exactly where we need to be. There's a reason why we looked at 50+ homes, never satisfied, until we found this place.


If anything, this little fiasco could serve as a reminder that I need to step out of my daily routine, walk to the opposite side of our property, and really appreciate what we have. I know we lucked out -- faulty well pump and all -- and it's about time to spend more time recognizing that.