Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Inspiration’ Category


I am always amazed at how things often have a magical way of unfolding.

This past weekend I was supposed to go camping with my meditation group. We had had it on the calendar for a while and I had gotten the time off from my weekend job. I was excited as this would be my first camping trip in years and I looked forward to going deep, in the stillness of nature, with my sweet little meditation group.

But as it often does, things come up and as the weekend got closer, unfortunately a couple of people had to cancel and in the end we decided to postpone. I was disappointed, but I knew we’d go another time.

However, as the weekend unfolded, and different plans began to take form, I was blessed to witness something so magical, so inspiring, that I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

My good friend Rebecca (also from said meditation group) and I decided to go for a day hike in Tennessee Valley, just a handful of miles north of the city. San Francisco summer was full on: it was hot, sunny and clear blue skies; the perfect day for a hike to the beach.

When we got to the parking lot, we decided it was too hot for sneakers and slipped into more comfortable shoes for the fairly flat walk to the beach. Rebecca put on her favorite pair of flip-flops and we made our way to the Pacific. It was a beautiful day at the beach. It was hot, but there was a perfect, soft sea breeze and for once it was actually warm enough to wade in the water (a rare thing in San Francisco).

Photo by Rebecca Fettig of http://goldenpointsf.com/

Photo by Rebecca Fettig of http://goldenpointsf.com/

We left our shoes in the sand, went into the water, and waded around happily for a while at the shore. Walking along the beach, the tide was clearly coming in and the waves were catching us by surprise and splashing playfully against us. Set against the shimmering water were the beautiful California hills, limestone cliffs jutting up dramatically against the sky.

We walked around a rock and at that moment, we saw a big wave coming. Rebecca managed to run away from it, but I on the other hand was not fast enough and got a refreshing sprinkle.

With the tide coming in so fast, our thoughts turned to our shoes and it occurred to us that we hadn’t even thought about how far they were from the water. We wondered if they were even still there, or if they had been whisked away, sacrificed into the sea. We began walking back the short distance of the beach, preparing and laughing to ourselves about the prospect of having to possibly hike back to the car barefoot.

As we got closer and closer, I saw no shoes in sight. I was convinced they were long gone and I chuckled. Yes, it would be unfortunate, but it makes for a great story, so the humor in it did not escape me. However, as we made our way back to the spot where we thought the shoes were, a friendly woman asked us if these shoes were ours, pointing to the wet, sand-covered shoes. Yep, that was them. The tide had in fact tried to steal them away from us, but thanks to the kindness of complete strangers, we would not have to go shoeless that day. That was just one of the magical encounters of the day.

I tell this part of the story because it is relevant to the next part. If we hadn’t found our shoes, we wouldn’t have ventured out on our next adventure and we wouldn’t have experienced the most magical encounter of all.

As we began making our way back towards the car, along the dry, dusty path, we saw several different trails, to the left and right, meandering up and over the rolling hills. We knew we didn’t have loads of time, and as the trail heads were marked with their corresponding mileage, we decided to take the shortest one, a 1.9 mile trail up to the right. And off we went.

Shortly after embarking along the path, suddenly we were under a canopy of trees, in what I can only describe as a tiny enchanted forest. We crossed over a sweet little bridge over a trickle of river and the sun was magically filtering through the trees. Within the rest of the dry, hot landscape, this little oasis seemed very out of place. We reveled in it.

Emerging out of this small grove, we then started heading up and up over the hill. As we got further along and it began to get steeper, Rebecca began to hesitate. She was uncertain if her flip-flops would be able to handle the slippery slope back down and she of course didn’t want to fall. We knew we weren’t prepared to do a major hike in our chosen footwear, but we figured we’d go as far as we could. So we paused for a moment as she tested out the security of her footing beneath her.

In that moment, I looked up and saw something I will never forget. I turned to Rebecca and in response to her question about whether or not we should keep going, I said, “Look up and I think you have your answer. Let’s keep going.”

She looked up and saw what I saw. There was a man, with not one, but two prosthetic legs, walking carefully down the steep dirt trail, ensuring that he had his footing as he went. And if that isn’t incredible enough, not only did he have two prosthetic legs, he also had one prosthetic arm. And this man was hiking, by himself. Are you blown away yet? Because there’s more. Yes, more. On top of having three prosthetic limbs, this amazing human being was also carrying a mountain bike over his shoulder. This man (perhaps a veteran of war?), who through some unknown turn of events was left with only one natural limb, was spending the day hiking and mountain-biking. Rebecca and I were completely dumbfounded.

As the man (who was quite good-looking by the way- just sayin’!) walked by, we greeted him and asked him how his day was going. He returned our greeting with a friendly smile. We asked him how much farther it was to the top and he told us we were about 65% of the way. We wished him a beautiful day and kept on going. And as we continued up the hill, our hearts were blown wide open. We, both of us, were absolutely in awe of this beautiful spirit, this incredible being whose story we knew nothing about, but who clearly had the immeasurable strength to overcome so much adversity. And we stood in wonder of the resilience of the human spirit.

We got to the top of the crest and looked out at the breathtaking scenery: romantic, rolling hills colliding with the churning ocean, and a group of hawks soaring majestically above. I was filled with goose bumps. Rebecca and I looked at each other and we acknowledged the absolute gift with which we had just been blessed; the absolute wonder and testament to the triumphant nature of the human spirit. The two of us were overflowing with amazement and gratitude.

Tennessee Valley

In the end, I’d have to say I’m pretty happy that our camping trip got canceled because I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that encounter for the world. It was an experience by which I was deeply humbled, a gift for which I am truly grateful, and a moment that I will remember for the rest of my life.

And if ever you find yourself thinking that you are incapable of accomplishing or overcoming something? Think again.

“Although the world is full of suffering,
it is full also of the overcoming of it.”

~ Helen Keller

Read Full Post »


San Francisco golden Gate view

Four years ago today, I came to San Francisco for a one-month sublet. Life had proven to be quite hard in Los Angeles, nothing was working out, and I was stagnating…badly. Knowing that I had to make some kind of change, I figured I’d give San Francisco a whirl and see what came…

Five days later, a job offer fell in my lap, out of the blue. The next thing I knew, I was packing up my LA apartment and driving a large U-haul, by myself, up the I-5 to San Francisco. As I made that journey, unsure of what was to come (other than an Operations Management position at a start-up), I could never in my wildest dreams have imagined what would be coming in my future.

Here I was at my second start-up: lots of long hours, nose to the grind, managing a team of people in San Francisco, and eventually overseeing an entire call center in Denver. I was busy, doing the job of two people, and I was on the go all the time. I got promoted in that position, and then shortly thereafter I was tasked with building out a brand new sales division, something I embraced and into which I threw myself headfirst.

But…only a few months later, much to my surprise, I was let go… for the first time in my life. And why you might ask? Because I was “unhappy,” or so that was the reason they gave me. I will never forget that cab ride home, sharing my confounded emotions with my friendly and empathetic Brazilian cab driver.

That day was the end of one chapter, and it was about to be the beginning of another.

Whatever shock and upset I felt, somewhere on a deeper level, I knew that this event was a gift…an opportunity.

And somehow, as if on autopilot, I began writing; something that cascaded seemingly accidentally out of a simple request to share my story of healing through yoga. That story opened a floodgate that I didn’t know existed within me, and in me was revealed a writer with whom I had never before been acquainted.

A serendipitous email invitation to a Hay House (my favorite publisher!) Writers’ Workshop led me to San Diego where I learned how to write a book proposal and build a platform, all the while following my deepest intuition. Before I knew it, I was blogging in English and Spanish, to tens of thousands of people around the world. And to my surprise, they seemed to be listening.

The next thing I knew I had a solid book proposal, the help of an agent, and I was pitching a book about the power of positive thinking to publishers all over the country. Me. The same girl who only months prior had been running a customer service call center in Denver. Me. The same girl who had built out a client service team at a start-up in Washington, DC. Me. The same girl that had planned international student tours in Boston. Me. The same girl who had dropped out of graduate school and hated writing papers all throughout school. I was writing a book! And I had a lot of support.

As I worked to grow my platform, I began blogging for a couple different lifestyle, wellness, and yoga blogs. My audience grew, as did my list of invaluable connections. And then came the initiation of the second book project: The Yoga Diaries. Oh yoga! I haven’t properly mentioned yoga. No story of my life in San Francisco is remotely complete without talking about my beloved practice of yoga.

Those of you who have followed my blog already know that yoga has and continues to change my life radically, ever guiding me into new and mind-blowing adventures and experiences. What started as a practice from a deep place of pain and sorrow in Los Angeles, carried me forth on my healing journey into San Francisco. And now free of a very stressful job, I had more time to devote to my yoga practice. I enrolled in a 7-month intensive yoga immersion, fully intending to take my practice and my understanding of yoga history, principles, and philosophy to an even deeper place.

Triangle

And deeper I went. Over that 7-month period, magic happened. There really are no words with which I can adequately do justice to how profoundly yoga has changed my life and my entire existence. But suffice it to say, through the consistent and dedicated practice, I tapped into a well of calm and peace so deep within me, a profound oasis of joy and bliss. I blasted my heart wide open and my spirit began to expand into the heavens.

I was able to take it all in: the beauty and joy that was around me every single day, the delightful moments that occurred at every turn once I opened my eyes and began seeing them, the love and human connection that was all around me, and within me. I was buzzing with delight and I was seeing the entire world, all of existence, through a completely different lens…a permanent and unshakeable lens.

The Yoga Diaries began to grow. I received more and more wonderfully inspiring stories of healing through yoga, from people of all walks of life, from all over the world. And in no time at all, I realized that I was on a mission, a personal quest to bring greater healing to the masses. I knew that yoga had transformed my own life in breathtaking ways, and from all of the wonderful friends that I was meeting in my yoga immersion, I could also see that yoga had transformed many of my friends in equally sweeping and speechless manners. I knew that yoga had the power to change the world and I knew I needed to spread that message.

Amazing souls began to cross my path, so many deeply spiritual beings, soul brothers and sisters in exploration on this seeking journey. We were all working to help others and change the world in different, yet complementary ways, and we came together to support each other in ways that still astonish and amaze me. One thing led to another and I was introduced to a best-selling yoga author, for whom I began working as a consultant. The connections grew, the Universal support continued to flow, the right person continued to show up at just the right moment.

And all of that culminated in me finishing my second book proposal, this time for The Yoga Diaries. And as if the Universe wanted to show me that it continued to support me, more and more magic began to unfold. I became friends with several published authors (including the best-selling one!), all of whom offered happily to refer me to agents and publishers. I began to simply follow the breadcrumbs and they led me from one door to the next. When one door would close, another window would open and there were more breadcrumbs to follow. And I knew to simply keep trusting…Until eventually my book proposal had personally arrived into the hands of a dozen acquisition editors, among them the head editor at my favorite publishing company; yes the aforementioned Hay House!

As I write this blog, on my lap sits another Hay House book that was personally sent to me by the acquisitions editor at Hay House. And as my bookmark, sits the hand-written note-card from this editor, a truly prized possession which will eventually go into a frame and onto the wall of proud and awe-inspiring moments of my life.

Once I walked through all of the open doors, and my book had safely arrived into all of these capable hands, I knew that my part was done. And from that point on, I released the project into the arms of the Universe and there it presently resides, cradled in the vast unknown.

And as to the outcome, I have let go of it. For I know that I have done all I could do. I know that I put my heart and soul into this project and I know that beyond any book, my main purpose was to spread the word about the healing power of yoga. Earlier this week, I published a truly inspiring story about a 68-year-old man who had overcome a stroke and is now healthy and thriving from his yoga practice. As a result, a 65-year-old stranger reached out to say he was inspired and wanted to begin a yoga practice. In that moment, I knew that it didn’t matter if the book ever got published. That 65-year-old man, and hundreds of others like him, was the outcome. That is my happy ending.

And so in recent weeks, as I’ve begun to move on from the book project, I’ve felt that the writing chapter is coming to a close, at least for the time being. And I’ve felt an internal shift and a readiness to get back to another career. And I can sense deep inside of me that just like the previous chapter that began with me losing my job, that the next new chapter is also about to begin, with the finishing of my book.

As I write this, I’m sitting on a plane flying home from Maine, where I just spent an all-day interview, for a job (here in San Francisco) that I would love to have. And I don’t know if that job will come through or not, but as I look down on the Earth from 30,000 feet, I know that I stand on the precipice of the next great chapter.

I fly home to San Francisco knowing that it truly is home. San Francisco has changed me in ways that were once unfathomable to me. I came to this magnificent city, a little bit lost and very damaged, and somewhat “by accident.” And as I fly back to the Bay, I know that I am whole. I am happy. I have a life and a community that I love, in a city where magic awaits around every turn. I am living more authentically and vibrantly than I have ever lived in my life. I have awakened within me a writer whose voice will never be extinguished, no matter where else my path takes me. And with that new voice and a clear mind, I stand ready, open, and excited for the next chapter…and with it, all of the wild and amazing adventures, and magic, that await.

DSCF2697

Read Full Post »


DSCN1335Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Los Angeles

It was exactly six years ago today that I drove my trusted little Saturn into the City of Angels, the crimson sun setting behind the mighty palms. It had always been my dream to move to the West Coast, and at this moment in my life, I was spurred on by a fight for love. Sadly I was met with anything but. And so began the darkest years of my life: alone, jobless, and heartbroken in the vast and lonely sea of Los Angeles.

In a moment of desperation, I dragged myself into my neighborhood yoga studio. And that seemingly small decision would forever change the course of my life: it would be my first step into a profound healing journey and the beginnings of a major life transformation, the likes of which I never could have imagined. Yoga led me to Peru. Peru led me to San Francisco and here I discovered a whole new Jeannie and a whole new life: a beloved community, an unexpected and dramatic career turn, a book, so many magical experiences and powerful manifestations. It has been a story that this writer never could have written.

Golden Gate from Buena Vista with AnkitGolden Gate Bridge from Buena Vista Park, San Francisco

For six years, California has been home. In fact, from the moment I arrived here, I felt like I had come home. When my heart was broken, Los Angeles held me in her warm embrace and surrounded me with her Angels. California has taken my breath away with her unrivaled beauty: her brilliant sunshine, her majestic mountains, her pristine ocean. And then there was San Francisco. Oh, San Francisco. With her forward-thinking, progressive, risk-taking mentality, San Francisco has inspired in me a well of limitless possibilities and she has allowed for an energetic expansion beyond all measure. California has cracked my heart wide open and allowed me to connect with the Spirit within and all around me.

On a regular basis, I have stood in awe of her outrageous scenery: spectacular views of the shimmering Bay, the electric view of Los Angeles from the Hollywood Hills, the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge, the snow capping the mighty San Gabriel Mountains, the jaw-dropping vistas from the twists and turns of the Pacific Coast Highway, and the mystical fog cradling the dramatic San Francisco skyline.

California has changed me. She has saved me. She has inspired me. I am forever grateful for this place.

DSCF2697Baker Beach, San Francisco

Read Full Post »


United we stand Boston

I am a Bostonian. And my heart is breaking. There are no words to adequately express how I feel about yesterday’s tragedy in my home city of Boston. Though I have lived outside of Boston for a decade now, I spent the first 28 years of my life in the Boston area, and several years after college right in the heart of Boston, walking regularly through the area where this tragedy occurred. Boston was the city that raised me into the adult that I am today. No matter where else I go, Boston is always the home in my heart.

When I learned of the horrific news yesterday, I immediately turned on the TV to see what was happening. I am an avid news junkie, so normally I can watch these sort of events very objectively without having to internalize the emotions. But I could not have anticipated the visceral and personal response that I had yesterday. I immediately called my brother, who also instantly welled up with anger and sadness at the news. He too has lived outside of Boston for years, but like me, he too is a true Bostonian through and through. His first response to me, “They picked the wrong city to mess with. You do not mess with Bostonians.” I concurred, comforting myself for a moment with the knowledge that Bostonians are as tough and resilient as they come.

As more of the horror unfolded, I found myself spending the day in tears, shaking. And when I stopped crying, I would just start again. These were cathartic tears, tears of grief that needed to flow. This was my home, these were my people. This beautiful city and her amazing people had shaped the person that I am today, and although I have lived in many other places, I always identify first as a Bostonian. And I do so proudly. Bostonians are such good, kind, real, honest, straight-forward, down-to-earth people. They will give you the shirts of their backs if need be, and many Bostonians did just that yesterday, as they desperately tried to make turnicates to stop the bleeding of their fellow Bostonian brothers and sisters.

And though the news was graphic and devastating to watch, I knew I had to watch it. I had to watch it to honor those who were experiencing such unthinkable horror. But I felt so helpless. I wished I could be in Boston at that moment, helping out my fellow Bostonians. And if I could not be there in person, then I had to watch and be a part of their pain. I had to share in it and stand in solidarity with my people.

As more and more news of the casualties and war-like injuries were reported, my heart shattered further for the poor families of the victims and for the indescribable and inconsolable grief that I knew they were all feeling. And I prayed for the survivors, knowing how tragically their lives had been changed in an instant, knowing the grief and post-traumatic stress which they will carry for years, if not the rest of their lives.

Boston Marathon image

In the midst of all of this it suddenly occurred to me that a dear family friend of ours had planned to go to the Marathon that day, to watch one of his friends running. I immediately ran to my computer to check his Facebook wall and my heart immediately sank when I saw friend after friend posting, asking William if  he was ok. No response. Hours passed, more people posted and at this point some of us were frantically calling hospitals and posting his info on the Google People finder. Still no response from William. I feared the worst and the tears resumed.

We are so fortunate that eventually someone was able to get a hold of my friend and we learned that he was safe and sound. A sigh of relief. But I was so sad for all of the other families who would also be frantically searching and who would not be so lucky to receive the good news that I had. I shed more tears for their pain and anguish.

As I listened to the ER doctors talking about the horror that came through their doors and of how many limbs they had to amputate, I tried to imagine the unthinkable reality of having one of your limbs blown off, something we tragically expect in war, but something that nobody could ever expect on the sidelines of the Boston Marathon, one of the most celebrated days in Boston. I began thinking of how much we take our limbs for granted, something that our brave war veterans know all too well. We walk about on a daily basis, never really thinking about what life would be life without a leg, or God forbid, without two legs.

In honor of those who were facing this devastating reality, I forced myself to stop and think about that. I am an avid yogi. Yoga changed my life. Yoga gave me back my life after a very dark depression. I depend on having two arms and two legs to be able to do this practice which has been so critically important for health and well-being in my life. How on earth would I survive if I were to tragically lose a limb, as was now happening to these people? I honestly don’t know how or if I could survive such a devastating blow. Life as you know it changes in an instant, in one horrific blink of an eye.

So as I was walking over to the cafe today to write this, and I heard the tragic news about the little 6-year old girl named Jane, who is an Irish Step Dancer and has tragically lost her leg, my heart sank into my stomach. As I thought about my own legs and my yoga practice, my heart bled for this little girl. Only 6-years old with a whole life ahead of her, and now she has to face a life with this disability, and likely without her beloved Irish Step Dancing.

I searched for her name, wanting to pay her proper tribute here and as I did so, my heart sank even further upon discovering that she was the sister of the little 8-year old boy, Martin Richard, who was the first to lose his life in the incident. As I read further I discovered that their mother too had undergone emergency surgery to save her life and she was still recovering from her injuries. And I felt so sad for this poor little girl, who not only lost her leg, but now had to face life without her big brother. Unthinkable. Unspeakable.

Martin Richard family

The Richard family.

And then my thoughts turned to that poor father. Too much loss, too much incomprehensible tragedy for one family to endure. This poor man, with one son lost, a daughter with a devastating amputation and a wife reportedly with brain injury. What parent would not be thinking to themselves, “It should have been me.” There is nothing worse than losing a child. On top of that, having to cope with the tragic injuries of his wife and daughter. One can only imagine the endless scripts that will be running through his head, “What if we hadn’t gone that day? Why didn’t we stand on the other side of the street?” etc, etc. No human should ever have to bear those wounds and live with such torment.

There is too much tragedy, too much loss, too much debilitating grief, too many broken hearts, too many forever-changed lives in this story. And it is a story that shouldn’t be told. It did not need to happen. This was such a senseless act of violence, aimed at entirely innocent victims, who were happily celebrating a wonderful day. And though we do not yet know who is responsible, it really doesn’t matter. Whether domestic or international terrorists, whoever it is should and will be brought to justice. That will have to happen to provide if only a moment of peace. But there is nothing that can be said or done to take away the pain and anguish that these people are enduring and will continue to endure for a lifetime.

So where do we go from here? How do we make sense of this heinous and cowardly act? How do we view the world? Well, we do bring the guilty parties to justice, yes. But should we retaliate and seek revenge in anger? No. As much as that is the reaction of people in pain, it does not bring peace. It only creates more anger and hatred in a world that already has too much of both. I believe that Gandhi was right when he said,

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

And I also wholeheartedly believe in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. when he said,

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Poignant words from Martin Richard, may he rest in peace.

Poignant words from Martin Richard, may he rest in peace.

Love is the only answer. It is love and human connection that caused so many first responders and bystanders to run towards the bomb blast yesterday, instead of away from it. It is love that caused several runners to cross the finish line and run straight to Mass General Hospital to give blood. It is love that allowed complete strangers to be tearing off their clothes in order to stop the bleeding of a complete stranger. It is love that allowed volunteer workers and random passers-by to stay by the side of someone they don’t know, holding their hand until they got into the ambulance and on their way to a hospital. It is love that has caused the outpouring of grief and support of a community, a nation, and a world. It is love that causes my own tears to flow, in empathy and solidarity for my fellow Bostonians.

I am so encouraged by all of the beautiful, moving stories of heroism and humanity that are coming out of this tragedy; people coming together with their neighbors, people helping and crying with strangers, people putting their own lives at risk to help save the lives of others. However horrific the event, there is always beauty and grace that comes out of these horrible events. There are always powerful personal missions and new life paths forged out of such personal tragedies. There is always so much more good that prevails and selfless service to mankind that comes out of these stories. There is always light that comes out of the darkness.

And I also take comfort in this: Bostonians do come from very tough stock. They, we, are people who will not be knocked down, who will not live in fear. We are a strong, proud people who will stand boldly and fearlessly in the face of terror and fear. We will not be overcome. We will stand united, in love and brotherhood.

This post is dedicated to all of those who have so tragically had their lives cut short, to those survivors whose lives are forever changed in an instant and to the families and loved ones of all the victims. This post is dedicated to a brave and beautiful city that I am proud to call “home.”

 

Read Full Post »


Photo by Flickr user: wolfsoul.

Photo by Flickr user: wolfsoul.

As I see it, there is an epidemic occurring in our society; it is an epidemic of people being terrified to be alone and as a result remaining stuck in the wrong relationships. Sadly, I see examples of this around me on a daily basis. And unfortunately I see far more examples of that than of the opposite. Should it be any surprise, then, that 50% of marriages end in divorce? It isn’t to me.

One of the benefits to growing older is that as you experience [and learn] more, and as you observe more, you are [hopefully] much more clearly able to see when a relationship is right…and when it is wrong.

If the 20s were the decade of friends getting married, the 30s have proven to be the decade of friends getting divorced. I think it was around the age of 35 when I noticed that what had once been the “summer wedding season” had instead turned into the “summer divorce season.” And all of the couples that I saw in my 20s and thought to myself “those two are so wrong for each other!”, those couples have in my 30s ended up divorced: almost without fail.

Image by Flickr user: donkeyhotey.

Image by Flickr user: donkeyhotey.

Conversely, I’m sure we’ve all seen the couples that when you look at them, you think to yourself “Yes, that is how love is supposed to look!” and it is just so obvious that the pair are so in love; they show mutual respect, admiration, and affection; and they show it over years, regardless of the passage of time. Such couples reveal such a beautiful, powerful energetic connection, and they complement each other so well, truly embodying the spirit of yin and yang. They are simply a joy and an inspiration to be around. I am grateful that growing up I had a friend whose parents exemplified this for me, even after 25 years of marriage. So even from a young age, I knew what love could look like. And today I am so grateful to have even a small handful of such couples in my life, for they remind me over and over again of the kind of love that I want in my life and why I choose to not settle for any less than that.

And I am by no means under the illusion that a relationship should be easy all the time, nor am I espousing that. I am the first to know that love can be messy and that it takes real work to keep a relationship intact. But what I can say, from experience and from keen observation, is that the right relationship should be much easier than the wrong one. And if the relationship is a constant uphill battle, a constant struggle, then it’s not the right one. We can choose to have something better, more easeful.

Unfortunately, for every one of the couples that exemplify what love can be, I have known twice as many couples who exemplify the opposite of that. I have known the couples who fight all the time and who you just dread to be around. I have known the couples where it’s just so obvious to an outside observer that one of the people is in love, but not the other. I have known the couples where the woman is so desperate to get married and make babies, that she ignores all of the signs that scream that he is not the proverbial “one.” I have known the couples that break up and get back together, over and over again (Oh wait, that was me!). I have known the couples where one partner wants to have kids and the other does not, and they stay together for years, one partner clinging onto hope that the other will change their mind.

I have known the couples that are simply tolerating each other, out of some sort of misguided sense of obligation, rather than showing or feeling anything resembling love. I have known couples where the man only got married because of pressure (or even an ultimatum!) from the woman. I have been in the weddings where you are biting your tongue as the bride walks down the aisle, because you just know with every fiber of your being that they are making a mistake (incidentally I’ve been in three such weddings, and ALL have ended (happily) in divorce). Heck, I have even known multiple couples who themselves admit that they knew it was a mistake, but they walked down the aisle anyway. I have seen people engaged in extramarital affairs and in circumstances that are far too “complicated” to be “right,” people who are clinging to the unhealthiest of situations in a desperate attempt to find happiness.

And when I speak of such couples, I do so with deep empathy and understanding, for I too have lived through my own version of the “wrong” relationship. And I know that these souls are on the same powerful journey of growth and learning on which I reluctantly found myself (that is if they are open to such growth and learning). I spent years with the wrong person, trying to convince myself that it was right. I have always said that one of the cruelest aspects of life is that we have the ability to fall in love with the wrong person. Frankly, it’s brutal and there are few things more painful than star-crossed lovers. And I know how difficult, how painful, and how seemingly “impossible” it can be to extricate ourselves from the wrong relationships; I know all too well how paralyzed we can become, how stuck we can get. I know the feeling of having the constant pit in your stomach and of your head trying to rationalize that it’s caused by something else, when deep down in your heart, you know the real reason but don’t want to admit it.

I have also learned that love is not enough, and that of equal importance are timing and compatibility. You can love someone with every fiber of your being, with every breath of air in your body, but if it’s not right, if they are not the right match for you, it won’t matter. Of this I personally know all too well.

So why is it that so many people stay together for all the wrong reasons? Why are people so afraid to be alone? Fear. Society. Expectations. As I’ve observed people and relationships over the years, it has become clear that so many people are terrified of being alone; terrified of ending up alone, and of dying alone. I once shared this fear, so it is one I relate to and understand well. And as I already said, I understand how it feels to be stuck with the wrong person, and in the wrong relationship, for all of the wrong reasons. I have been there and I am fortunate that my partner had the guts to release me from it, as I’m not sure I ever would have had the courage on my own; for I too was living in fear.

Society tells us that we are meant to follow a very specific formula for life: college, career, love, marriage, and babies… only in that order! We do not even realize how brainwashed we have been as a society. And what society teaches us, our friends and families only reinforce. Everyone has an opinion about what we should be doing. When we see our friends getting married and having kids, we feel even more pressure to be doing the same. If we do not follow that formula, our parents disapprove, people think there is something wrong with us. We all have the aunt who asks, “So when are you going to get married?” There is so much pressure to conform, to fulfill the expectations of society.

I spent the first half of my 30s gripped in sadness and despair, because I too felt that I had to fulfill that formula, and it just wasn’t working out for me. I found myself 32 (and then 33, 34, 35…), single, and childless and that had never been the plan. I should have had three kids by that age. For all of my life I had planned to get married and raise a family. And I am such a passionate, open-hearted woman with so much love to give; how could I not be finding a beautiful soul to complement my heart?

Well, if life has taught me one thing, it’s that the most difficult times are the most valuable and that by walking through each one of them, there are invaluable lessons to learn. I had to walk through an extremely dark time of loneliness, of being completely on my own, for years, before I could come to understand the importance and value of being happy on our own. It was only by walking through my own darkness that I was able to find the light, and in doing so I realized that the light comes from within. The true joy, the absolute bliss is only to be found within us, never outside of us.

And if there’s one universal truth, it’s this: Before you can ever be happy with someone else, you must first be happy with yourself.

And I have not only made full peace with the fact that I am now 38, single, and childless, but I have fully embraced it and the truth is that I have never lived more happily, more vibrantly, more fulfilled. I love my life and there is nothing missing. I now could care less about having children (If you’d told me 10 years ago that I’d be saying that now, I’d have thought you were c-c-c-crazy!) Does this mean I am cynical and do not believe that true love exists? Not at all. I have the gift of having experienced it with my own heart, so I know it’s out there. And if I happen to find it, well great, because that would just be the cherry on top of an already wonderful life. But I know it’s not necessary for my happiness. I know I already am, and will continue to be, happy and fulfilled no matter what comes into my life.

The moment we release the expectation that we can only complete ourselves with another, the moment we can release the idea that we have to adhere to society’s mold, is the moment we find freedom. And in freedom, we can find true happiness.

Photo by Flickr user Chema Escarcega.

Photo by Flickr user Chema Escarcega.

It’s funny, I suspect that many of my friends might pity me for being alone, for not yet having had the “fortune” of getting married and having children. But what they may not realize is that I choose to be single. I could easily have been in relationships over the years, but I knew they would be with the wrong person, and I have no interest in getting myself embroiled in something wrong, when instead I can be keeping myself open for something right.

And I’m happy to say that I have absolutely learned the valuable lesson that it is far better to be single than to be with the wrong person.

So, yes, some people may feel sorry for me that I am alone. But the irony of that is that when I look around me and observe so many unhappy, dissatisfied relationships and I see so many people who are stuck, all I can think to myself is, “Thank God I’m single!”

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: