Reflections of a Year Gone By

I don't know how many times in my life the words, “If you had told me a year ago I'd be....” have come out of my mouth. But that statement has never been as true as when I said it today. A year ago, the Wednesday night before my birthday I went to see Dahlia at the Doug Fir in Portland. The evening ended up being the beginning of the real end of an unfortunately painful situation. The thing I looked forward to most that week was leaving. I went to Seattle that weekend to see April and spend our birthdays together. It was raining and chilly and a feeling of somberness floated around me like the clouds I couldn't escape in the PNW. I just wanted to get out of there and head for Montana where the snow was falling.

I went to Big Sky hoping to escape drama and rain and did both with success. What an amazingly beautiful place. It's always been tough for me to be still, be present and just enjoy the here and now. My brain is usually buzzing about the past or the future, plotting, planning or analyzing. Arriving in Montana was like installing a break system in my mind. It was quiet. People were simpler. We skied and snowboarded. Often. I worked a job that came naturally to me, serving customers and being social. My evenings were spent either in our hot tub enjoying my friends and enjoying the silence of our surroundings or curled up on the couch with Matt after dinner with a glass of wine (or 3) or vodka tonics. We talked about snow. A lot. I never knew there were so many descriptors for snow – dozens. At first I felt like a poser saying things like, “I'm going to sleep early so I can get first tracks tomorrow”, “I don't know why they can't leave some sideline slushies on the corduroy” (sideline slushies pulled directly from the Swineford Dictionary below) or when referring to the mountain as a “ski hill”. But after a while I realized I wasn't posing – that was in fact my life, even if temporarily. I met people whose entire lives revolve around the ski hill. They live and breath skiing and snowboarding and nothing (nothing) makes them happier than an epic powder day. It was the complete opposite of where I'd come from. Liz and I regularly sat in the hot tub while the flurries touched down on our noses and said, “What do you think about all this? Could you do this? Forever?” It was such an intense juxtaposition to look at our lives on the east coast next to our lives in Big Sky. Hardly any part of one resembled the other. I've always said I'd like to have a house in the city and a house in the country. I think I could do city. I think I could do country. The suburbs, not so much. I learned the only way to figure things out sometimes is to try it. I learned that about so many things.

I debated for a bit about whether or not to stay in Big Sky indefinitely, but in the end the answers came to me without much thought. I knew what I had to do and that was go to Portland and try my life there. I could never feel like I'd accomplished what I set out to do if I didn't try. I was nervous the second time around but I think being in Big Sky for those months helped calm my mind and made me realize things happen as they are meant to happen. Don't get me wrong – when I'm hurt or don't get a great job I really wanted or similar, I wonder what the hell the point of that is - by no means have I met my entirely Zen self. But I went into my summer in Portland feeling like if nothing else I would at least try. If it's was to be terrible experience, I would at the very least, never wonder again.

I love Portland. Portland is everything I thought it would be and more. The people here (my friends) are... Open. Friendly. Giving. Genuine. Interesting. Generous. Sharp. Happy (overall). Funny. Diverse in interests. Finding balance. Spontaneous. Adventurous. In short, I feel at home here. Someone told me the toughest thing about moving here was how hard it was to meet true friends. People he could count on. I've been here 4 months and I feel like I have several people I feel I can count on and I have no words to express how important that's been to me. I think more than anything that stems from a willingness to 'put myself out there', meet people in unconventional ways and not put boundaries on what kind of places or people are right for me. Most people reading this know I'm a fairly outgoing person, it doesn't take much to get me to have a conversation with you. All of this helps. But I still believe most of it comes from sending positivity out into the atmosphere. I know that sounds 'new agey' or like something you'd read in that “The Secret” book (which I've never read). But I find it to be startlingly true. The happier I am, the more happiness comes to me. The better I treat people, the better I am treated. The more opportunities I am available to, the more opportunities that come my way. It seems endless. I imagine it's not. I am not under the delusion that my life will just carry on in some cosmic la-la land where everything is perfect. I still handle some things terribly. I have many (if not most) of the same negative patterns I've had for years. But the difference is I've worked hard to recognize them and make a change when possible. And just acknowledging I think sends that same positivity into the atmosphere. And I can only hope that with all life's ups and downs, eventually things that zip off in one direction will come back to the center – where I consider happiness and balance to reside.

With all of this said, I am happier than I've been in years. Which is saying something since I don't think there was a long period of time where I was truly unhappy. There was a short time my close friends know where things were looking grim, but I've learned so much about myself from that time that I don't even consider it all that negative. Some will say I'm happy because I haven't had to work in months and I will say that's probably a large contributor - I've been able to recharge in a way many people never get to experience. But again, I haven't had to work because by taking a risk (going to Montana) I was able to put myself in a situation where I could take the summer off (putting away money working in a place where there's nothing to spend money on). I think more than just not working my happiness stems from surrounding myself with good people, trying to rid myself of 'stuff' (material and emotional), figuring out what it is I enjoy doing and doing it, and more than anything, not being so hard on myself.

Liz has been 'dragging' me to yoga lately and while I'm not completely sold, my body is getting more flexible and I've picked up a few gems from my instructors. In fact, today during our final pose I began to cry... Liz tells me that it's believed you store your energy – both positive and negative – in your body and when you do yoga, it releases that energy. She taught yoga formerly and said people often cried in class. But today I wasn't releasing pain. My instructor was talking about being happy with yourself, as you are, today. And when I realized that I was, my eyes welled up. Another instructor said something last week that really stuck with me: “Liberate yourself from the outcomes”. This made me smile from the inside out. She was referencing both yoga poses and life experiences and I took it as such. It made such sense to me to consider releasing myself from my expectations or desire to have a specific outcome to every situation. While I'm far from a control freak, there are certain parts of me that lean towards needing to have the upper hand on how things turn out. It's a big challenge and I work on it regularly. But when I fail, I don't beat myself up anymore. Just like when I try to do a headstand and fall on my ass. Or when I point it on my snowboard and sink into 2 feet of powder. I just get up and try again. Usually laughing at myself.

Through all of this it's been wonderful to know my friends – the ones I've had for years and years – are still there for me. They keep me grounded through the changes I've made and bring me back to reality when I'm getting ahead of myself. They are the ones who really remind me who I am. Like my first post on this blog says, NJ will always be home and I will always defend and speak highly of the place. It's what's familiar and where the people who know all my flaws and love me anyway are housed. It's difficult to be away from them, missing out on children as they grow up, not being there when tragedy strikes those who have been there for me, and not being able to just go to Houlihan's for Trivia Night to do my best at beating KJR which never happens. But I know everyone wants what's best for me, as I them. And those who are my true friends will remain. My family has put up with my vagabond ways with patience and understanding. My parents have been immeasurably helpful in serving as bankers and landlord to my renters, not to mention that they seem to possibly – maybe – even be proud that their child has chosen to take a different path. While they may not understand it and can't imagine roaming this way for themselves, they have never made me feel like I'm making a mistake or given me guilt about my place in the world. My sisters I'm sure think I'm insane, and I'm sure I'm the flighty one who doesn't know what she wants. It's not entirely untrue, but again, I think they appreciate me for being who I am.

A week from today I'll be leaving for SE Asia. If you had told me a year ago I'd be leaving for Bangkok in a year, I would have probably said that's positively ridiculous. Yet here I am. Thank god for Liz who has been my inspiration, sounding board, side kick, best friend, cheerleader, therapist, ski lift co-rider, writing partner, boss, mirror, ass kicker, personal chef/yoga instructor, the only recent stability in my extremely unstable life – my person. This trip was her idea and it was something I wasn't all that excited about when she first approached me with it. I really wanted to be in Portland and get my life started here. It's been the toughest thing about the decision to go – that I will be leaving this place I love and the friends I've made (and my 'nephew' who I love beyond words). It won't be forever, but that's how attached I am to it. But I decided to go because I didn't want to have any regrets about not going. I'm lucky enough (so lucky) to financially be able to travel and to me life is about experiences. Good or bad. I am not under the delusion that every moment of this trip will be a glorious, beautiful, peaceful bit of paradise. But I welcome whatever happens with open arms because it's part of the journey (let's just hope Malaria isn't part of the journey). And I've liberated myself from the outcome. I have no preconceived notions about what my trip will be like, how long I'll be away, what I will want to do when our travels are over. I may come back and carry on with my life just as if I never left, or it could change everything. Or anything in between. I'm just taking it one day at a time (like the AA folks say) and will try my best to put into practice what I learned in Big Sky – to not rush but to look around and appreciate beauty at the very moment I see it. What I learned from yoga - to be present and kind to myself, appreciating who I am. What I learned from snowboarding – to be patient with myself. What I learned from Matty – to 'point it' and commit (and how to do the Matty Dance). What I learned from being hurt – great joy and discovery can develop from disappointment if you let it. What I learned from Liz – to embrace opportunities and run towards them with gusto instead of running from them in fear.

See, I'm the same person I was a year ago, just more ME.

I wish everyone I happy, safe and joyful holiday season. Please keep in touch while I'm gone via email and I will do the same at every opportunity. I'm not sure if I'll be emailing or blogging, we'll see how difficult it is to get Internet access for long periods of time. If you need to get in touch with me for emergency, please contact my parents in NJ (I'll send out their info via private email, not posted on the Internet, eh?). Be well. - A