girl talk

i was a sight to behold. hair straightened, lips painted, faux fur michael kors cape fluffed out in a frame around my perfectly made-up face. 

the moment my gold-heeled black suede booties hit the bumpy grey gravel, i realized i was a walking fashion faux pas.

amidst rolling hills, pristine pastures, and god-fearing mennonites churning out cheese and handmade crafts, there we were. smack dab in the middle of ohio amish country…and i stuck out like a stiletto-clad sore thumb. 

in my defense, the only plan for the day was catching up with family at legacy village, a luxe shopping center close to home. we feasted on sauvignon blanc and quinoa salad, strolled through clothing shops and caught up on life updates and #firstworldproblems.

but immediately after our leisurely lunch, my brother announced that we needed to take a quick detour to middleburg to check out some horses he was considering buying. 

“ummm not exactly what i had in mind…”

not one to take no for an answer, he convinced me to come along, transitioning from fancy shops to country farms without any time for a wardrobe change. 

when we pulled off the smoothly paved asphalt and hung a left onto the windy gravel entrance to the rayber horse ranch, he couldn’t resist doling out a playful jab at my couture conundrum.

“OMG hahaha!!! good thing you look like a total slut with your makeup and high heels!” he chuckled.

nice… normally i’d have a zinger of a retort ready to fire back but in this instance…in the heart of amish country…i had to concur. “UGH.” i couldn’t help but laugh while simultaneously giving him the stink eye as i slowly climbed out of the car. 

we made our way toward the stables, and all the while i could feel the warm, nagging sense of discomfort, starting at my neck and inching bit by bit up to my cheeks. it wasn't fear or panic, but rather a keen awareness that THIS one of these (ME!) was not like the others.

the sight of our shiny car triggered a flurry of activity, as our hosts eagerly assembled at the front of the wooden gate, just under the welcoming animal skull. the city slickers had arrived!

ray looked exactly as you’d expect. kind eyes. flannel shirt. long scruffy beard. faded jeans. if not for the tilted cowboy hat and suspenders, i almost would’ve thought i was in my own hipster hood. 

he was a family man, with hands soiled from hard manual labor and a simple life buying, selling and training horses. he smiled as the three of us approached. 

“maybe this won’t be so bad after all,” i thought. 

he greeted my brother with a direct eye contact and a firm handshake. “good to see you again.” 

“you too ray! i’d like you meet joseph.” again, a smile. eye contact. and a firm handshake. 

then they turned to me. “and this is my sister, celia.” 

smile. i reached out my hand. “nice to meet you!” 

my hand still hanging there, in mid-air. 

“hi.” 

half smile. tilt of the hat. and that was it. 

i was almost in shock. did i just get denied?? i could tell from his manner that he didn’t intend to be mean or vindictive, but it was definitely jarring. preconceived notions. mine about him. and his about me… or who knows, maybe even women in general. all encompassed in that single moment. i dropped my hand to my side—or perhaps it was pulled down by the weight of the subtle rejection… and i stepped back, receded really, to let them get to the business at hand. the horses. 

this was going to be a looonng afternoon. 

i spent most of the next hour removed. uncomfortable. disengaged. i shot a couple photos of the farm, watched from a distance as he brought out each horse, one by one, and paraded them around the circular arena.

i chose a spot away from the action, finding solace on a big log outside of the barn and impatiently checking my watch at regular intervals. 

after about 30 minutes, i noticed two figures darting from the house to a location off to the left, just out of sight. i couldn’t make out who or what made the noise, so cast my gaze back toward the barn.

within a matter of minutes, loud noises, thuds and squeals began emanating from the corner. 

“what the…?”

i left my comfy perch and decided to investigate the commotion. 

and there they were. two adorable little amish girls, jumping on a trampoline with wild abandon. they would take turns leaping into the air, and then crumble to the ground in a giggling pile of sweetness. it was heart-melting.

there was a mesh fence around the trampoline and i didn’t dare cross the barrier and intrude on this pure moment—especially given the frosty welcome i had received minutes before. so i quietly sauntered back to my spot and resumed the waiting game.

enough with the ugly spotted one already… next up, the massive brown friesian. i got up to observe through the barn window. walk. trot. canter. round and round…

and then i felt something behind me. a presence. no words were spoken, but i could feel eyeballs burning through by back. i turned, slowly, and looked over my shoulder. 

the two girls were now staring up at me with big brown eyes, sandy blonde hair tucked behind black babushkas, and cheeks rosy from bouncing up incessantly to touch the sky. 

“hi there,” i muttered…all the while i kept wondering if ray was watching. would he be concerned about this all-black clad, make-up wearing maleficent corrupting his sweet little girls? i tried to keep the small talk to a minimum and diverted my gaze.

but their eyes were locked on me. and their faces were beaming. with innocence and light…but most of all curiosity. 

it was utterly disarming. i cracked a huge smile. and the floodgates opened.

“what’s your name?”

“i'm celia.”

“wow! my name is julia. did you know that you just need to switch two letters—change the ‘ce' to a ‘ju'— and we’d have the exact same name? this is my big sister anna, and we have a younger brother, but he’s in his crib right now sleeping. do you have any kids?’

i told them about mine. 

“do they like halloween? most people carve their pumpkins, but we paint ours. mine is the one with pink and purple glitter because i like sparkly things.”

“i love sparkles,” i said. #kindredspirits

“what about easter? i love holidays. we get to eat the best food like cookies. do you like cookies?

“yes chocolate chip are my absolute favorite.”

“oh i like those. and also those things that have like 7 different things in them…dream bars, yeah! and whoopee pies. mmmm….”

“julia, you should only say the one cookie that is your favorite.” her older sister was trying to get the eager beaver to play it cool.

“but how can i choose just one?! you can’t forget about the snickerdoodles!”

“don’t worry, keep going. i love food! it’s impossible to choose just one,” i reassured her.

“yeah… thanksgiving is fun too. i like it because i get to celebrate it with my whole family. it’s really fun, except when my brother annoys me.”

“hello! tell me about it.” mine would still have to pay for the teasing that kicked off the trip!

“...and we have all these people over to eat turkey and stuffing.”

“i love stuffing too! 

“also the animals on the farm. they're so cute. i love animals…”

they went on and on, about literally everything they could think of that they loved about life…and it gave me pause. i thought to myself. “wow… girls, i completely feel you.” 

worlds apart in nearly every imaginable aspect (age, race, religion, upbringing, lifestyle), but all they saw, all they chose to focus on, from the second they saw me… was me. another human being. another girl, just like them. 

just then, a big shadow appeared, looming over our cocoon of light. 

“you better watch out now.” it was ray. 

a lump formed in my throat. was he warning his girls not to talk to me? should i have just cut them off when they tried to engage?

all three of us simultaneously turned to suffer the wrath.

“i’m telling you, be careful. those girls of mine, they’ll talk your ear off if you let them!” then he smiled wryly, winked and walked back to the barn.

exhale.

it was a moment of realization. how much our daily interactions with strangers are colored by fear of the unknown, insecurities, prejudice, narratives from tv shows or news reports. there were stark differences between us, sure. but those girls started from a place of commonality. sameness. not the dark chasm of difference that conspires to divide us daily. 

our worlds fused in that moment, from separate into one.

we could see the guys approaching now.

in a sweet sense of urgency, julia looked up at me with those big brown eyes. she didn’t grab my hand, but she leaned in as close as little kids do when they have yet to learn the rules of personal space. 

“ummm. maybe next time you come, you can stay a little longer so we can play.”

done. she crushed me. broke through that wall of protection—carefully built and fortified from living, in the city, in this country, in this world, that alienates us from each other and even ourselves.

it was a simple human connection in the unlikeliest of places. we all knew we’d be returning to the concrete jungle. our complicated, chaotic lives would resume, and things wouldn’t be as innocent or pure as they were on this day. but she opened up my heart so unexpectedly…and maybe even her dad’s.

sometimes it takes a pattern interrupt, going outside of your comfort zone, to see things or people, differently.  it was a flutter of hope--however small, not insignificant. a reminder that in truly seeing another, you might also see yourself.

the horse hunter would leave empty-handed that day. but i walked away with a treasure.

the compass

I’ve been on an incredible journey this past year. A reset. Dipping my toe into freelance work, taking on a new job, traveling, meeting amazing people who are brilliantly inspiring, whether because of their talents or genuine friendship or simple humility in getting through daily life with humor or compassion or even grace.

It all came about because the universe kicked me in the ass to move along another path.

I’m honestly filled with so much gratitude… but somehow the word doesn’t quite capture the nuance. It’s more like this incredible sense of clarity: about what I want and don’t want, and what matters most to me. The more people I talk to, the more I’ve realized that no matter what age, stage of life or supposed level of "success," we are all literally trying to find our place. It’s the age-old nagging existential questions: “Where do I belong? What city or suburb, what profession, with what person or life circumstance? What do I want to be when I grow up? What is happiness in this busted, broken, imperfect world?”

Well I’m here to tell you, I have the answer. No, really. I’ve cracked it. Never mind that scholars and philosophers have been grappling with this mystery for centuries. I’ve got news. It’s really simple.

It all has to do with your inner compass.  

During a particularly rough stretch, I had a random kitchen conversation with someone. She was a casual friend, certainly not a close confidant, but after exchanging niceties and complimenting each other’s shoes, the conversation somehow shifted from superficial to sage. She opened up about a really toxic time in her life and how, though she had absolutely no clear plan what escape looked like, she knew one thing. Her “inner compass was off.” She was sick to her stomach. Hives. Stress. Daily dread with a cocktail of meds and a cherry on top.

So one day she left.

She trusted her gut. And set off to find a new direction. She didn’t have the destination mapped out. But closing that door, while terrifying, opened a slew of new ones based on her own inner clarity, and the connective tissue of friends and loved ones—that magical safety net of support that appears when you need it most, but you forget exits when you’re in the thick of your own drama.

The moral of the story: “Keep doing you.” It’s literally all you’ve got. You are one in 7.5 billion people. A truly unique, one-of-a-kind combination of hair and eyes and heart and cells and atoms and thoughts and talents that only you can bring. And you have the power to make a dent in the world when you’re firing on all cylinders. Authenticity is such a lame, stodgy word, but at the heart, it’s about living your truth. While all else might be murky or uncertain (your ultimate path or detailed plan), your inner compass never lies.

If you sense something's off, you’ll know it. You’ll physically feel it. If it’s just a slight inconsistency, then perhaps all you need is a little course correction—a series of turns, pit stops for help with directions, small changes in attitude or focus.

But if your compass is literally taking you in the opposite direction from who you are and where you want to go, then listen to that nav. Whether it's your conscious choice, heroic moment or the forces of the universe giving you an unexpected nudge, maybe it is time anyway to take a pause. Pull out the roadmap and figure out your next move. Or better yet, get lost for awhile. It’s terrifying when you set off on a journey that you mapped out clearly in your mind or life plan.

But trust me. Side streets and detours can be utterly delicious. They can open up worlds of opportunity and inspiration from places and people you never knew existed. And despite your deep-seeded fear about veering off onto the wrong path, you may well realize it’s ultimately exactly where you need to be.

If you can’t make a wholesale change because finances or kids or life obligations box you in, then take even small steps that get you out of your comfort zone. Put yourself out there in little ways, express yourself, create, talk to people and make connections. At least it’s movement in the right direction. It’s better than inertia, standing still.

And no, it won’t be easy. Many of us end up or stay in the wrong situation because we believe in the narratives that other people tell us—about ourselves, our talents or skills or definitions of what happiness is supposed to be. The truth is the biggest roadblocks you will face are the doubters and the haters: those who seek to knock you down or even your own biting inner critic. Battling both will take resolve. But when those voices creep into your consciousness, take inspiration from one of my all-time favorite memes. It’s both hilarious and anthemic... 

Following your inner compass means trusting yourself above all else. The haters and skeptics are just noise. Don’t try to chase other people’s dreams or listen to external scripts about who you are and what you can do. Follow your own inner compass and you can’t go wrong.

precious cargo

the anxiety and self-loathing started last month. interspersed between santa commercials and holiday sales were the barrage of weight loss and self-help spots. before the big ball dropped in times square to usher in 2016, the media was already preying on our fears—and predicting our inevitable failure to live up to those grandiose goals we set for ourselves.

“80% of people fail to fulfill their new year’s resolutions.”

and let's be honest. the other 20% are likely chronic over-achievers (you know who you are) who have berated themselves for not doing the other 10 things on their list.

so why even bother?

i am a big believer in visualization, in writing things down, and the magic that can happen when you don’t just think about a desire, a want, a goal—but you commit to it in a tangible way. i have found that, consciously or not, the mere act of announcing that intention to the universe (even if you are the only person who hears it) propels you somehow toward the end goal. sometimes it happens in huge, life-altering ways. but most often it’s little ones that put you on a trajectory and move you ever so slightly in that direction.

and guess what… that’s ok.

yes, you should absolutely think about your goals. look inward and find that fire in your gut. lean back. dream big. and commit yourself fully to whatever it is you are striving for in life or work, personal relationships or self-fulfillment. even buy a stack of power ball tickets for good measure.

but remember to balance those resolutions with respect for yourself and how far you’ve come.

nothing and no one is perfect. screw unattainable goals.

forward progress and baby steps, kindness and compassion, raising people up versus tearing them down, being true to yourself and present in moments that truly matter—that is #winning in my book.

this new year is a gift. and this life of ours, it’s precious. fragile. for anyone who has experienced illness or loss, you know that in a whisper, the blink of an eye, all can be lost.

so in your quest for the better you, don’t forget to celebrate all that you are and have —and every experience that brought you to this moment.

yes, look forward... but live in the now.

dreams, spandex & death goggles

Though it was a great excuse to get away from the office grind, I was fully prepared for the barrage of buzzwords and bravado. It was, after all, a new business conference for advertising’s top brass—the crème de le crème of seasoned sales pro’s, spinning stories and selling dreams for some of the world’s biggest brands.

I’d been in advertising long enough to be jaded—exhausted by the echo chamber and marketese/mumbo jumbo that reaches a feverish pitch at conferences: “integration, transformation, disruption”…indigestion. Nonetheless, I was looking forward to hearing the war stories and hopefully walk away with even a smidge of inspiration amidst the talk of pitch strategies and procurement woes.  

When the young, tan, whispy-haired dude from Boulder, Colorado, shuffled onto the stage amidst the slick-suited, stiletto-clad crowd, I knew this would be a different kind of talk. But I had no idea what deep, existential ponderings were in store for all of us in the audience that day.

The title certainly didn’t sound riveting: “Reframe Your Business: A Growth Strategy Inspired by Personal and Social Values.” But he came from a place and echelon of success in our industry that very few could even fathom to reach.

Alex Bogusky was an original founder and partner of one of the world’s hottest ad agencies, Crispin Porter + Bogusky. He was the “Elvis of advertising”—a superstar. In Ad Age’s words, he was “as clever, brash, and iconoclastic as the campaigns that earned him a reputation as the most dangerous weapon in advertising. He relished playing cultural deviant—creating brazen campaigns for Virgin, Volkswagon and most notably Burger King." 

4 years ago, he left Crispin, Porter because he didn’t feel his values were aligned any longer with the business. He went on to found a series of companies and social related projects that “do good in the world.” He worked with Al Gore to raise awareness and action against climate change. He started Common, a creative community that helps social entrepreneurs “do shit that matters.” And just last month, he launched a new agency called Fearless, designed to help corporations, foundations and non-profits build campaigns around social issues.

It all sounds so lovely and idyllic—the former ad guru who cashed out, made millions by selling off his share in one of the most lauded ad agencies to “find his soul,” and is now spreading peace, love and pixie dust all over the world from his aptly named “Fearless Cottage” in Boulder.

The cynic in me scoffed. “Easy for him to say from atop his moral high horse,” I thought, reflecting on all of us poor schelps in Adland—and every other industry for that matter—who actually have mouths to feed and bills to pay as opposed to sinking riches into whatever cause du jour comes our way.

But when he hit the stage at the conference, he won me over—not with self-absorbed anecdotes from his glory days in advertising or business strategies to drive growth, but rather with personal “stories” and sage advice from someone who, at the pinnacle of his career chose to pave a different path—based on personal values and fulfillment rather than traditional notions of success.

7 Steps to Career / Life Fulfillment from Alex Bogusky

Below are some inspiring sound bites I scribbled into my moleskin almost a year ago at the Mirren Conference in New York. These thoughts have swirled in and out of my consciousness as I’ve transitioned to a new job, juggled the demands of work and family, and struggled to carve out the time for passion projects like writing my blog and photography, and even just unplugging from the chaos of daily life. The answers are far from black and white – but they’re nonetheless great reminders when you feel adrift or simply need permission: to dream, take risks or even simply baby steps toward the next stage of your own personal journey.

1.     “Aligning your values and work can be so fucking hard.” The truth hurts, doesn’t it? But there it is. Someone finally laid it out on the table. Landing your “dream job” or even figuring out what that is—it’s nearly impossible when you’ve got bills to pay, rent, a mortgage, god forbid the money pit that is kids. Based on where you are in your life and career, you may have to suck it up for awhile: earn your stripes, pay back your loans, do whatever you need to do to earn a living now. And accept that that’s ok. But if your ultimate goal is to do something more, something different, something better—then it’s also up to you to define where you want to be and what you want to do. It’s hard. Brutal even. And even if that dream job is eons away from your current reality, you have to start somewhere, with even little actions that will set you off in that direction. In the end, if you can achieve that kind of alignment, when you know in your gut and heart and your soul—not just your wallet—that this is what you were meant to do, it will all be worth it.

2.     Lycra: "It’s not always pretty… but it’s you.” This was the single best career advice I’d ever heard. Wear spandex to your first interview? No not exactly. What he meant was this: YOU have to decide what fits you perfectly. Screw what everyone else says about what path you should take or how to benchmark success. Wearing lycra means putting it all out there—every nook and cranny, every bump and blemish, every experience and talent that makes you uniquely you—and doing it fearlessly. There is nothing more empowering than finding your true, authentic voice…and screaming from the rooftops.

3.     Now is the time. All white slide. No other words on it. I got chills. When it comes to work or big life decisions, it’s natural to focus on the end goal. And because of the weight, we often find ourselves waiting: for “the right time” or “the right opportunity” or whatever real or imaginary barrier to be removed before we act. And big changes are scary as hell. Often the person watching with judging eyes, anticipating our own imminent failure is ourselves. On the next slide: “Our own internal voices are fucks.” The key is to realize that you don’t need to solve the world’s problems right here, right now, in one fell swoop. That’s a surefire recipe for failure. Whether it’s a job or life choice, we’re all WIP (Works in Progress). Simply begin to take steps. Little wins lead you one step closer to the end goal. 

4.     Lay back and dream. As big as you can. Again, not the kind of advice I expected at a new business conference. There is a reason people like Alex Bogusky or Steve Jobs achieve unfathomable heights of success while so many others wallow in mediocrity. They’re dreamers. Disruptors. They challenge the comfortable confines of the status quo. He proposed an exercise: Describe your ideal environment. Ideal collaborators. Ideal role. Even if it’s only a dream now, the mere fact of articulating it crystallizes it into something real and tangible to strive for.

5.     Do your little projects. You know, the ones you keep putting off, that you never have time for because they’re just “hobbies.” In advertising we are literally driven, often into the ground, by clients and deadlines and demands on our time. Every profession has its version of pressure or paperwork or pet peeves that drain your energy, rob you of precious time you wish you could be spending on things you’re actually passionate about. Make the time. Whether an escape or coping mechanism for your current state or an actual step, however small, toward the life or career you want, do it. Those “little things” go a long way toward making you a happier, well-balanced, more fulfilled human being.

6.     “Success.” Bogusky left advertising at the pinnacle of “success.” In describing his career trajectory, he talked about the relationship between his core values and the size of the firm where he worked. “Small” was exciting and entrepreneurial, but stressful in terms of actually building a profitable business. “Medium” was a sweet spot, with just the right amount of creative freedom and fun, balanced with the sense of doing really “good” work for clients. Yet as the company started to grow, it became harder to find “goodness” along with “bigness.” In his words, the values had changed, enough to inspire him to leave. In society, success is generally gauged by title and dollars. But once you throw other factors into the mix: your health and well-being, stress levels, impact on your family relationships, what is the true measure of success? I think we all have to define what it means for us personally and challenge the notion that money or things equate to #winning in work or life. 

7.     Death goggles. Bogusky actually opened his presentation by telling the audience a very personal story about his mother who had just passed away. With voice quivering, he looked out into the audience and said: “When you think about what you’re doing in life, do you ever ask yourself the questions: Do I matter? Does what I do matter? When I die, and people are gathered for my funeral, what will people say about me and the impact I made?” Again chills. Heavy stuff for a morning keynote session. The question pretty much cut through to my core.

I thought about my own mom who had passed away years ago. She worked her ass off for 30 years—healing patients in order to fund private school, college, med school and law school tuition, helping family members with medical bills and miscellaneous expenses. Based on her staunch religious beliefs, sense of moral obligation, and desire to give her children all the things she never had, she felt this was her role in life. But the trade off: the romantic ideals that I only saw in glimpses from old photo albums of her glamorous, carefree travels with my dad— that she left behind the minute she donned the white coat and the title of “doctor.”

Her one dream in life was to go to Rome. To stroll the streets like Audrey Hepburn, who she watched on the big screen as part of the triple features in the air-conditioned movie theatres of the Philippines, long before she achieved “success” in the U.S.  What did she get instead of her ultimate “Roman Holiday” after a lifetime of working hard? Kidney failure during retirement, excruciating rounds of dialysis, and a ticket to the Philippines for a transplant that ended in tragedy.

Such a harsh reality, but also an important lesson: Whatever path you choose in life, whatever decisions—big or small—make them count. Make sure that what you do matters: for yourself and those around you. Evaluate your priorities. Find “your thing.” Own it and live it, fearlessly…because it’s all you’ve got. 

riding the wave

i can remember the first time vividly. the blue beneath our feet looked harmless enough, light ripples in the sunlight—not a hint of warning about the turbulence to come.

when the steamy, translucent gates parted, we waded in slowly, gradually ascending the heights until we reached a point of statis. terra firma. level ground. the vibe was chill, relaxed, even inviting—especially for a first timer—but we stuck close together as his eyes enlarged to take in the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and ever so peculiar smells engulfing him.

i thought it would be an amazing adventure: his first bus ride. and when we boarded, his excitement about embarking on such a reviled mode of transportation amazed me. i handed him the crumpled dollar from my purse and did my best to flatten out the bill, smoothing it between my fingers to ensure it would get accepted. he fumbled a bit, hurriedly trying to stuff it into the narrow slot as the bus driver watched blankly. finally, on the third try, he found his mojo, staring intently with delight as george washington’s face got sucked up ever so smoothly into the machine.

“third time’s the charm, bud!”

beaming with a sense of accomplishment and relief, he followed anxiously on my heels to see what was next. we slowly shuffled forward—you know the move: barely lift your feet and slide several inches, right-left, right-left, following behind the person in front of you, close enough to be able to slip into an empty seat if you stumble upon it, but far enough away where no bodily contact happens. ever.

his eyes opened wide as he scanned the strange surroundings. seniors, tweeners, hipsters and homeless people.  he was clearly fascinated by the array of colorful commuters he witnessed as we made our way to the middle of the bus. per usual, i scanned the rows for an opening while simultaneously avoiding eye contact of any sort (a skill honed and perfected after years of taking the dank red line subway).

nothing.

he looked up at me nervously.

“don’t worry, honey.” i pulled him close and showed him the shiny silver pole by the center doors. “just hang on to this and it’ll be fine,” i reassured him, intentionally leaving out the sordid images popping into my mind of the dregs of humanity, and all the grimy hands that grasped the metal lifeline throughout the day, even seconds before ours. “bring on the purell,” i muttered under my breath.

“huh?

“it’ll be fun, i can tell!” i articulated loudly, earnestly trying to reinforce his genuine anticipation.

he wrapped both hands around the pole, and readied himself. it was a white-knuckled grip for sure—not because he was scared, but simply due to the fact that he didn’t know what to expect. i, on the other hand, had wrapped my jacket-clad arm around the pole to stabilize myself while avoiding actually touching the cootie-laden structure. (i figured this was an intermediate lesson, a trick i could teach him on ride #3 or 4, after he had successfully completed this maiden voyage.)

the doors slammed shut, and as the bus began to move, it melted my heart to see the corners of his eyes wrinkle up when he smiled—just like mine—a giant grin that radiated happiness, though he was trying to play it cool to blend in with the crusty commuters surrounding us.

for the next few stops, he was in the groove, letting go of his vice grip as he started to get the hang of the ebb and flow. he clearly found comfort knowing the trusty old pole was there if and when he needed it. a safe base. the novice was getting his bearings. my little jedi in transit training.

things were all well and good…until we got to chicago and milwaukee, where the subway and bus stops converge. by the time we had arrived, it was rush hour and the mass of bodies pushed forward when the steamy glass doors swung open. unlike the nirvana of literally minutes before, we were packed in like sardines.

helpless to resist the momentum, we surged forward, slowly shuffling again, only this time with bodies pressed up against our backs. he paused to look up at me with a combination of slight curiosity and sheer terror.

“everybody move back! make way for the passengers boarding the bus!” the driver yelled sternly.

“keep moving until you can’t go any further.”

i nudged him forward until we were firmly wedged between a few fine specimens of the CTA variety, only to find ourselves in the worst possible predicament: caught completely adrift, with neither a pole to hang onto nor a place to lean against.

“oooh this is not good.” i thought to myself as i put a hand on his shoulder, regretting this brilliant maternal decision to subject my kid to the gruesome tortures of mass transit.

the doors struggled shut, then the bus hurtled toward the intersection. the amoeba of people that included us poor souls with no pole morphed with the abrupt forward movement. the rough jerk sent us flying, and we both reached for the invisible bar (also known as thin air). it was futile. with nothing to stabilize, we flailed. i grabbed onto his shirt and kept him (barely) upright.

“mommy, HELP! what am i supposed to do now? i am going to fall if i have nothing to hold onto?”

with each successive stop, he’d tense up, his entire body bracing for the impending wave to hurl him about like a piece of driftwood tossing about at sea. he’d look around, embarrassed, worried. hating the lack of control. dreading the possibility he’d fumble, step on a foot, bump into man, or worst of all fall flat on his face.

i leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “ok buddy. listen to me. you’ve got to stay loose.”

his face contorted. the sweet adoring “i love you, mommy” face was instantly replaced by an indignant “wtf are you talking about, lady??” look. “stay loose when i’m about to dive headfirst into this mass of scary humanity?!”

i smiled reassuringly. “I’m serious,” i said in a gentle voice. “at the next stop, just watch me carefully.”

his response: a hearty huff and eye roll (the latter another lesson he regrettably learned from the best…me).

as we approached the stop, i got into position, exaggerating my movements for dramatic effect. i planted my heels (all 4.5 inches of them) firmly on the ground, as wide as they could get in the 12-inch square block of space i had to work with. i bent my legs slightly and got ready to ride the wave.

he was intrigued now, watching me intently as i assumed the position. i cracked a big smile and winked at him.

the brakes screeched loudly as we pulled up on the next stop, and i rode it out, shifting my body weight subtly back and forth to counter the momentum. he watched in amazement as i maintained my balance, only hesitating once to grab onto his arm when the jostling got a hair too extreme.

the furrow in his brow slowly morphed into a grin of his own.

he whispered into my ear. “that was awesome!”

“i told you bud. i know what i’m talking about. whenever you feel out of control, take a deep breath. plant your feet on the ground. trust yourself. believe you can handle it. and then ride the wave.”

the grin transformed into an ear-to-ear smile. “i wanna try!”

he couldn’t wait test out the technique. as we approached the next stop, i watched his lips recounting the steps, and his body motions working in unison. he was ready.

“look mom! no hands!” he squealed.

and that was it. on an unremarkable wednesday, in the middle of rush hour on the CTA, i taught him an invaluable lesson about surfing…and life.

“whenever you feel out of control, take a deep breath. plant your feet on the ground. trust yourself. believe you can handle it. and then ride the wave.”

7 life lessons on the cusp of 40

i've still got time...nine months to be exact. but the reminders have been hitting me like a battering ram. one by one, friends have been dropping like flies, entering the realm of the dreaded “big 4-0”—or anxiously awaiting the bomb to drop in far less ceremonial fashion than the new year’s eve ball in times square. i just saw the headline while scanning some news blogs: "generation x turns 40." blech... and the other day, i got a lovely message on facebook from my high school reunion chair: “so we’re turning 40 this year…let’s celebrate!”

“thanks for the reminder.” i thought. “i’m well aware…”

though some of my tweener co-workers (ok…to be fair, twenty-somethings!) may think i’ve officially hit “ancient” status, i feel pretty darn good for an ol’ lady. perhaps i should scorn the day it actually hits, but quite honestly, i just don’t. i’m ready.

i was reminded of this fact a few months ago when i bumped into a good friend while grabbing coffee in the office kitchen.

she had just turned 30: gorgeous, glowing, and graciously embracing this new milestone.

“happy happy birthday!” i gave her a long, heartfelt hug, and almost felt maternal as i thought back through my own experiences and how much “life” she had to look forward to.

“thank you! you know, i thought i would dread it but i’m ok with it…actually more than ok. i’m in such a good place! so now that i’m 30, what do i have to look forward to?”

“a pile of shots, a wok to throw up in and a few hours of recovery time to do it all again” … oh wait, that was my 20s! yeesh.

anyway, it was a lighthearted question…that inspired a much deeper answer. sometimes when you’re living it, you may not realize how far you’ve come, how much you’ve accomplished, the perspective you’ve gained, how much you’ve grown. and then a question gives you pause, and there is, simply, clarity.

“what do you have to look forward to in your thirties?” the answer was far too loaded for a drive-by kitchen chat, so we booked a proper lunch to celebrate and discuss. here is a topline of what i said:

“words of wisdom from my 30s”

1. perfect imperfection: one of the biggest epiphanies i experienced in my thirties was a true awareness—and acceptance—of myself. i vividly remember the painstaking self-consciousness of youth. of begging my parents to “drop me off at the corner” for roller skating saturdays at my grade school, terrified that my friends would make fun of our white oldsmobile toronado (can’t imagine why) or my parents’ filipino accents. of first dates in college where i’d pound enough grape ape everclear before the barn dance to wipe away the inhibitions…and sadly, on occasion, the unfortunate mess when the liquid courage dissipated and the liquid upchuck surfaced in its place. in the working world, being faced with following someone else’s dream or carving out my own path, when i felt utterly clueless about what it should be. all of these misadventures were part of the learning process, culminating in the biggest lesson of all: that no matter how “put together” people appear, how much they seem to have going for them, everyone’s got their baggage, everyone’s trying to find their way. the more you get to know people, the deeper you scratch beneath the surface, the more you realize we are all the same: perfect in our imperfection. instead of chasing an ideal or worrying about your limitations, you learn to be comfortable in your own skin.

2. your voice: an essential part of embracing who you are is finding your authentic voice. in my thirties i realized that, as life gets more complicated, nobody is going to figure things out for you, nobody is going to set you on a course toward greatness—or mediocrity for that matter. “it’s all up to you.” when you’re out of the protective bubble of college, where groupthink reigns supreme, and you surround yourself with friends who look like you do, think like you do, it’s safe, secure…and the furthest thing from real life. without that safety net, you are forced to decide: what is important to me? what issues matter? what do i like/dislike? without anyone else weighing in, what do i want? it’s terrifying at first, but also empowering. whether through work or hobbies or interests or passions, you begin to discover—and own—your voice.

3. no drama: also known as “shedding the deadweight.” in your twenties, you’re on a process of self-discovery, and with that comes a plethora of interesting characters: people who expand you, experiences that push you out of your comfort zone. some people are inspiring. there’s an instant connection…and they become an indispensable part of your lifelong journey. but inevitably, you realize that others are just deadweight. “friends” who bring you down. or like pigpen in the “peanuts” comic, they move through life with a swirl of drama that follows them wherever they go, and engulfs anyone (including you) that happens to get sucked in. for awhile, it may be entertaining, but as time goes on, the electricity wanes. and it’s just plain exhausting. by our thirties, many of us realize that it’s time to ditch the drama and cut the cord on the clusterf**ks in your life.

4. the core: all this talk of clarity and confidence would make one think that with each year, nuggets of wisdom simply pop into your consciousness like pimples on a preteen, but nothing could be further than the truth. for most of us, your 30s is a time of incredible milestones: marriage, kids, moments of bliss that give meaning to an otherwise self-centered existence. but in other ways, your 30s will find a way to shake you. rock you to the core. for all the good, you may experience, first hand, loss like you’ve never known: of a parent, of loved ones, of friends, of jobs. of relationships that you thought would last forever…but didn’t. illnesses that might strike without warning. real-life reminders that you’re not invincible will hit you over the head like a hard, blunt object shattering your ruse of control. perhaps it stands to reason that the heaviness that comes from hard times tends to hit when you’re older, wiser, stronger. when you’re more prepared to handle it. and when you realize that your core—the people and values that you hold closest to your heart— are the key to helping you through.

5. at any moment: this decade has taught me that life is all about moments. not the trajectory from point a to point b. not your best laid plans mapped out on a calendar. not the “ single moment ”where you thought you’d finally “arrive,” but the many little moments from which you learn and grow. we don’t always know what final shape it will take, but those moments pieced together form the mosaic of your life. moments with loved ones that mean everything. moments meant to be cherished but often missed. moments that, at any moment, could be taken away.

6. simple things:

i used to flip through magazines and earmark pages and pages of things that i simply “had to have”: clothes, bags, shoes, baubles. but when i hit my 30s and life grew infinitely more complex, those must-haves ironically became simple things: more time spent laughing with my kids, breathing in the air atop the sand dunes, enjoying the stillness of quiet moments, taking in the sights and tastes at the farmer’s market, strolling the neighborhood in search of the next cozy nook. sure we all want to look and feel our best, but ultimately the finer things don’t bring true fulfillment.

7. young at heart: sometimes it's easy to feel overwhelmed by the weight of the years. we all grow tired of the juggling act: trying to keep up with work and housecleaning and kid-chasing and list-making. the bones may be a little creakier, your eyes a little sleepier. but other times you may feel more alive, more aware, more inspired than ever. there’s nothing like having two little living, breathing reminders to not take life too seriously. when i see the world through my childrens’ eyes, i share in their wonder. when i’m texting “OMGs” and “LOLz”, i feel like a giddy tweener. when i’m reminiscing with old friends and the laughter flows as freely as the wine, there’s no pretense and no purpose other than to say that we’ve made it this far—and are sharing in this journey together. and last but not least, when i hit the bars, i do still occasionally get carded, which always makes me crack a cheshire cat smile (even if they are just throwing this old dog a bone!).

whether 30 or 40 or 60, age is just a number. the clock is going to keep on ticking until your time is up, so make the most of every moment…i'm not professing to know all the answers, but i feel like i've cracked enough nuts to be ready for anything that the next decade throws my way. so come on 40, bring it. i'll be ready!