this is 40

today is the half-day of the year and the 40th anniversary of the day i was born. i am utterly gobsmacked about the fact that i have lived this long, and while i am by no means 'old,' the word 'young' also doesn't describe me any longer. i am somewhere in the middle, i guess. middle-aged. good grief. that phrase feels so far from me, though if i am being honest, i am there. right. there.

birthdays often mean retrospectives (see last year's blog post), and this one is no different. i have been doing a lot of stock-taking over the last month or so as this day has quickly approached. i've made lists, tied up loose ends, and thrown things out. but more than all that, i have arrived.

a year ago, on my 39th birthday, i promised myself that i would work to remain present in as many moments as possible this year. and i was. i took mental snapshots (finger clicks and all). i sat inside discomfort and comfort alike..inside sadness and joy...and i soaked them in. i said hard things. i made even harder decisions. i swallowed my pride, and i patted myself on the back and gave myself snaps once in awhile. i tried to let my emotions be what they were, knowing that it is an honor to really FEEL. i took long walks and fantastic bubble baths. i listened to stunning music sung by some of my favorite musicians. i saw some phenomenal theatrical works and laughed, cried, and gushed to my heart's content. i cooked, ate, and photographed some seriously delicious food. i spent time with people i deeply love and appreciate. i received care and i sowed love into others. i made some new friends and continued to keep the old (remembering that the girl scouts song was always right). i made some mistakes, i avoided some others (whew!), and i forgave myself for not always doing everything perfectly. i found out that i'm more wholly me than ever before in my life. i rejoiced in that realization.

so in this middle place, i meet myself again. my hope for the coming year (and the coming 40 years) is to become more and more me...to share what i love with others and to bring joy to their lives...to pursue wholeness in all things (body, mind, and spirit)...to speak my truth and tell my story (through words, actions, and the food i create)...to love and laugh and cry with more abandon...to continue making balance and fun major priorities in my life (this is worth EVERY effort)...and to remain present in every moment, good or bad. i am happy to say that i am already in pursuit of these things (i'm more about realistic goals these days). i am already firmly on the road.

and though i don't know yet what lies around the next bend and who will meet me there, i know today who my real friends are and where i want to be. i am loved. i live an abundantly blessed life. i am grateful for all the opportunities i have to work on myself and the world around me. so, with thanksgiving and hope in my heart, i acknowledge that every day up until this point has brought me here. and whether the path ahead is smooth or bumpy, i know that the road i travel is mine. the journey is my choice because i believe the end is worth the effort. here's to the next 40, y'all. i said it before and i'll say it again. look out, world. i have arrived.

just a thought

in all my musings of late, i have come to a conclusion. taking the high road can sometimes crush your soul.

that is all.

the other stuff

the first two months of this year have basically flown by. 2014 started quietly, in my apartment, with my best friend by my side, while my lungs crackled and whistled and struggled to take in air. i wasn't sure i'd ever breathe normally again. when something takes over your body like that, it's hard to remember life without it.

but, here i sit, weeks later, breathing deeply and sitting at my desk on a sunday morning eating some cereal with blueberries, feeling quite grateful to be alive. i am learning, more and more these days, to listen to my body and to heed its warnings. when i'm tired, i sleep. when i'm hungry, i eat. when i'm full, i put down the fork. when i feel antsy, i move. when i'm working too much, i stop. these are basic concepts. and you'd think i'd have figured them out by now. but in truth, the other stuff of life (stress, pain, etc.) often gets in the way of what is really appropriate self-care.

so during the holidays and the beginning of the year, i had a lot of time to think as i lay on my couch trying not to cough. and i realized that the other stuff, whatever it may be, isn't my real life. it's like layer upon layer of paint on a perfectly good piece of wood that doesn't need adornment. so much extra that, rather than adorning, it hinders the original form, muddies its beauty until someone has the good sense to strip it away.

so in the coughing and wheezing and shallow-breath moments of clarity, i came up with a short list of what matters to me (in no particular order):

my relationships
my body
my sanity
my future

none of these things can be truly cultivated, nurtured, and protected if i don't remove the other stuff now and focus on the heart of the matter. so, bit by bit, i'm trying. trying to listen to my inner murmurings, trying to shut out the doubts and fears and worries about letting others down. i got sick by letting me down, and i'm really not interested in that happening again. this year i'm trying to allow peace and restoration to take over my life in an effort to focus on what i want rather than worry about what i don't. without knowing just how deeply she was speaking truth to me, yesterday my best friend randomly started singing the familiar line from a bob marley song:

'don't worry 'bout a thing, cause every little thing gonna be all right....'

and this year i believe that it will. i really do.

stained

whenever i purchase something new, there is always that feeling of enjoyment that comes from the pristine-ness of the thing and the follow-on desire of wanting to keep it just that way. and when the first mark or blemish appears on the shiny possession, there is a kind of loss that goes with it. for years i wouldn't use things people gave me, for fear of this loss, and i battled over whether to keep the things in their packaging and never use them so that they could stay perfect forever, or to let them become the way everything else in life becomes: marred, dirtied, and (eventually) broken.

a dear friend of mine just had a baby this past week, and when i went to visit him in the hospital, all i could feel was how small and perfect he was. how loved. how utterly wanted and protected. in his clean-slated state of being, he hasn't yet experienced emotional heartache, sadness, loss, or anything that might prick his tiny heart and make him feel tarnished or bruised. and oh, how i would love to keep him from ever feeling that way. how i wish i could preserve his sense of peace, support him learning only positive things in life, make sure that what he experiences from the world is nothing short of love.

but that's not possible, is it? if he (or anyone) is to go on about the business of real life, then the bumps and bruises are inevitable. he will not stay a baby forever, and once he begins exploring the world, he will feel its barbs interspersed with its joys. so the answer seems to point to one path: to live life and run the risk of being stained by it.

and i'm okay with that answer. i'm all right with the idea that nothing is perfect—nor was it ever intended to be. but there are paths in life for some folks when things do go pretty well and intentions are good. there are band-aids and antibiotic creams to treat the scrapes. there are cleansers to wipe away the smudges and splatters. there is someone there to tend to the hurt and the pain and the loneliness. if the attention is quick (if not immediate), the hurts brought on by the world are lesser than if left alone. there isn't time for ick to dry and harden on surfaces (or, worse, do damage on an even deeper level), and things can move along pretty smoothly.

but then, there are people for whom 30+ years pass without things being addressed, without wrongs being righted, without stains and marks being wiped clean (or at least scrubbed to an acceptable shine). and for those folks, the question remains as to whether it's possible to move from a life that feels rather stained and broken into something that resembles that shiny new-ness that once was. to bring back the wonder and childlike awe of new feelings and sights and sounds. to put the past behind you and redirect yourself to a path that is of your choosing and not simply the hand you were dealt. i have to believe that it can happen, but whether it will is another story altogether. the choice lies within the individual (me, in this scenario) to pull out the tools needed to make things right again.

so, here i stand, filled with doubt and trepidation, holding my best 'scrubber sponges' and heavy-duty 'cleaners'. i have only my mind, my heart, the drive to change, and the repeating refrain: it can get better. it must get better. it will get better.

eleven years

today marks eleven years since i started this little blog. it's unfathomable to think how far i've come in that time...how much about my life is so very different than it was then. at the same time, so many things are (for good and for bad) the same. i've had some lofty goals, you see, and very few of them have come to pass. i suppose that makes me a fickle soul...or maybe just someone who can't stay focused on one thing for very long.

actually, i think what it really is is that i have things i want to do, but i allow other stuff to get in the way. it's frustrating that i do this, to be sure, but one thing is true: i am farther down the road than i was back in 2002, and i shall not pass that way again....

once in awhile, i take some time to look back and lose myself in words i wrote years before, astonished at how much i need to hear them, even still today. they are gifts to me, reminders not to lose sight of what i hold dear...not to give up despite how hard things can be sometimes, or how much disappointment rears its ugly head. my past is a blessing to me, in spite of it all. it has made me stronger than i realized i was, and it consistently, gently reminds me of how fragile life is [read: don't take everything so seriously, sarah].

here's hoping that eleven years from now, i will look back on this day with a smile and say, 'oh, if you only knew that the very best thing was just around the corner. turn the page and keep reading, girl. it will get better.'

and dear reader, whether you're here for the first time, or the eleventh, or the hundredth, i hope you'll keep reading along with me. i want to know how this story ends....

'let the river run....'

last weekend, i traveled to the land of the great lakes (well, one of them) to see one of my most favorite people and her almost-9-month-old daughter. leaving my charming city was also on the agenda; i needed to get out of dodge for a few days to clear my head and go to a house in a remote location with a river lazily drifting by out back. a river, i might add, that was more than 3 feet above what it should normally be. this also meant that some fields...and front yards...looked like mini lakes. it also meant that the grasses were already lush and green with spring despite the snow that fell the night before i arrived.

i spent 2+ days in a house with the darling bebé, along with a sweet, huge yellow lab, a brand-spanking new golden puppy, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree (to say nothing of the mr. and mrs.). in the midst of this little family, making its way in the world, i was reminded of something: i am like that river, solitary and kind of mucked up and moving through life almost without even realizing it. no one depends on me for anything outside of work. i come home and i eat dinner (or not), wash dishes (or not), do laundry (or not), and talk to anyone (or no one) as i see fit. no one will die if i don't feed them. no one will object if there are socks on the floor of the living room. i have no one's mess to clean up but my own. and it's lonely. but it also can bring a measure of peace and calm.

that's the thing about life, i think: you have to find that balance between total independence/solitude and constantly surrounding yourself with other people/animals/things that need your attention. life on either end can be exhausting and make you feel like you're being sucked under by the currents, but if you can find that sweet spot in the middle, you can swim along happily for quite some time.

in the moments (few and far between as they may have been) i have been in that sweet spot, i feel the most like my pure self. there is a kind of sanctity in those times, and if i could bottle them up, i would. but the river of life continues to flow, and with it come the changing currents, the mud and sticks and other crap collected from distant shores, the knowledge that everything is temporary and what is good must be enjoyed now before it gets swept away in an instant.

now hear me: i'm not saying all of this to be negative. if anything, i feel encouraged and reminded that, to find that sweetest place in life, i must open up to the uncertainties...to what lies around that next bend in the river's path. i must continue to be vulnerable and to put my heart on the line for the things that i want. i must seek to avoid regret and invite the cleansing and renewal that new waters bring. it's not natural for me to do this, you see, but i figure if i'm going to conquer my own destiny and find the life i want, i have to plunge head-first into the rushing waters rather than simply allow life to float me along. and yes, that also means that the possibility of drowning is real, but i have those swimming lessons under my belt from 30+ years ago and just enough hope to keep me afloat. it's a start.

winding down

it's been a busy few weeks (months, really), and although the summer doesn't look to be slowing down to welcome the onslaught of fall, i am thrilled to report that i don't miss being in school ONE BIT. having my evenings and weekends taken up with things other than homework is still just divine. perhaps i'm in a honeymoon period; if that's what this is, so be it. it's far, far better than staying up until 2 a.m. to finish a paper on a friday night.

in celebration of my new-found freedom, of sorts, this summer has been one of films and grocery shopping with abandon. i am a produce hound, and as soon as my refrigerator begins to empty of all the fruits and veggies, i return to fill up a cart and lug home my wares to stuff my crisper box and all three shelves with packages of peppers, blueberries, strawberries, various forms of lettuce, green onions, long english cucumbers, baby carrots, and crispy-tart grapes. i'm telling you - it's been one hell of a summer.

in the midst of all of this, i have been working my tail off at my job trying to stay on top of deadlines, so because i don't have a ton of mental energy at the end of each day, i've enjoyed drowning myself in luscious, useless 'reality' programming until bedtime. and at night, i crawl under my fairly newly acquired beachy-green duvet cover and blue-green-taupe paisley sheets and drift off to dreamland with a long to-do list hung for safekeeping in the upper recesses of my consciousness.

i've had a pedicure that's lasted me for a month and a half. that's an accomplishment worthy of its own paragraph breaks.

i've made a few new friends and have enjoyed the prospect of impromptu dinners out and occasional meet-ups for various social gatherings. in line with this, i'm trying to say 'yes' more than i say 'no.' (i admit that sometimes this is easier said than done.)

i have lovely red globe lanterns (replete with white stars) hanging on my balcony. this still delights me in ways i cannot explain.

i am learning to embrace the heat a bit more (just a bit).

although this summer has treated me fairly well, i am all too happy to let fall arrive in all its grandeur, bringing with it the crisp evening air, the early mornings where darkness lingers, and the long drives down country roads bursting with all the best colors nature can offer. to be honest, my heart is ready for the next thing, the new adventure, the fresh notepads and pens filled with ink (oh, the promise that they hold!), the talks over coffee, the long lists with checked-off items, and the knowledge that i am one day closer to everything i hold dear.

as long as there are more words inside me, i will keep writing.

i've always been a tad bit of an overachiever, so why would you expect anything less from me?

just about two years ago this time, i had just gotten accepted into grad school and was feverishly trying to mentally prepare myself for the academic (and personal) unknown. i was also just 3 months shy of leaving a job that wasn't fulfilling me in the least for the place i now work (still without a doubt a fantastic decision). there's no possible way i could have known how much would change in that time and how quickly the time would pass. two summers ago, i felt it would take me FOREVER to get that degree, and i couldn't imagine doing it, let alone being able to sustain an A average the whole time. i didn't have enough faith in my own ability to put my mind to something and stick with it. and yet here i am, having accomplished every single thing i set out to do.

and tonight i find myself at a similar beginning feeling just as uncertain (or at least slightly doubtful) that i can actually FINISH what i've started. and yet now i have clear evidence that i can do these things, so tonight i'm giving myself an internal pep talk that not only CAN i do this, but i WILL do it. and however long it takes, i will just keep working hard until i get it done. no doubt i've been tough on myself these last two years, and while some of that might not be super healthy or helpful, it gets things accomplished, you know? so maybe i'll let a little of my inner drill sergeant out again to kick some ass and take some names (even if it's my own ass getting kicked). and who knows where i'll be two years from now? one thing's for sure: i've tasted straight As and i'm not particularly interested in half-hearting my way through my life anymore. this time i'm going straight to the head of the class.

mark my words.