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.

the beauty of a second

can you spare 5 minutes? if you’re like me, your knee-jerk reaction would probably be “of course not. don’t you know how busy i am?!” a recent article in the NY Times talked of “the busy trap” we all fall into. “it’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed: work and obligations they’ve taken on voluntarily, classes and activities they’ve ‘encouraged’ their kids to participate in. they’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.”

we race around like the rabbit in “alice in wonderland,” frantically checking our giant pocket watches (ok iPhones), and fretting about being “late for [yet another] very important date.”

we count minutes and hours, days and months. and we never once stop to think about seconds, a time unit so miniscule that nothing remarkable could possibly transpire within it. but a recent campaign by mont blanc sparked a revelation.

“the beauty of a second” was a cannes-winning campaign for montblanc watches, conceived for the web and targeted to a worldwide audience. the simple idea was to ask people to create a 1-second long video that celebrates the fragile beauty that can be found in this small unit of time.

the results were simply breathtaking.

these were the inspiring user submissions around key themes:

1st round: seconds of beauty (1:07): http://vimeo.com/32071937

2nd round: night and day (1:10): http://vimeo.com/33978304

3rd round: instant bliss (1:08): http://vimeo.com/36897783

4th round: every second counts (1:12): http://vimeo.com/39489909

a new measure of time told by people’s lives. who knew there was actually space in such a tiny unit of time: to see, to breathe, to feel, to take in life. not just on week-long vacations. but in days, hours, the minutes in between, scrambling to work, during lunch, when the day is winding down—even during the seconds that tick away inconspicuously, fly under our radar, but are filled with extraordinary beauty.

if i asked you at the beginning of this post whether you could spare 300 seconds, the sight of those zeroes would have had you running for the hills. but it’s the exact same amount of time, only looked at through a different lens. our days are incessantly measured, but each tick of the second hand is a potential moment of revelation. will you wake when the alarm goes off?

hunkering down

20+ inches of snow. 70 mph winds. lightening and thunder coupled with total white-out conditions.

there’s nothing like a hellacious blizzard—“snowpocaplyse 2011” is what they’re calling it—to remind you of how lucky you are.

toasty and warm.

roof overhead.

food in the cupboards.

family.

safety.

security.

sitting here at home, we’ve been immune from the sting of cold. whipping winds. treacherous roads. brutal reality of no place to go.

it reminds me of maslow’s famous hierarchy of human needs (remember the multi-colored triangle from grade school? ...or is the better question, why do i remember it?!). it essentially maps out all the basic human needs that fuel our actions and motivations.

it's ironic that we’re all so evolved, socializing, figuring out relationships, trying to belong, striving to achieve, seeking fulfillment and “self-actualization” (whatever that means)…

but sometimes it boils down to the basics.

home. health. and heart.

the things that matter most.