Friday, April 26, 2013

Finding the Path to What We Truly Love

So, at a certain point, I think we all have an opportunity to venture into some self-examination. We have the chance to look at our lives and think about taking stock of everything. Sometimes those opportunities are structured and planned, other times they are the result of major life events we couldn't have anticipated.

I don't think it's fair to think of it as a mid-life crisis, because sometimes, I think it might be a mid-life solution--a correction, if you will, to paths we took that made sense at the time, but haven't served us well.

I believe that a great many of us start out our adult lives with the idea that we are going to find our place and we're going to be doing things that we really love and that somehow make a difference to those around us. It's not always about how much money we're going to make or how closely we're going to follow a timeline.

Little stumbles along the way are sometimes blessings in disguise, other times, they really are just stumbles. If we get up and take off in the wrong direction, out of fear, we sometimes end up leaving a perfectly good path behind in favor of a path that just serves as a distraction from what was meant to be.

In the midst of a lot of soul-searching, I've picked up, in earnest, my former trail. I think it took me a long time to find the bread crumbs, but I'm hoping not too long. As I have been working on picking up this trail, I've wondered what it would be like to walk it all the time. What if I could do what I love everyday?

I can tell you, I wouldn't be making a cent at it. But I can also tell you that I find myself compelled to work at it every free moment I have.

In my case, the path happens to be writing. I know there are many directions that a person can be driven to pursue. I think pursuing a life within the arts is probably one of the more difficult paths on which to make a solid career that provides security, and yet, I recently find myself feeling like the job that pays me money keeps me from doing my real work.

It's actually the first time in my life I have been doing what I love so often that I am able to notice the difference.

My husband and I go to a lot of concerts. It's something we're kind of known for. Some of the bands we see are the big name real deals that are supporting themselves and giant production machines. But many of the bands we see are doing what they do just because they love it, and because they're hoping someday people will hear what they are doing, and they will love it too.

This week, we went to see a band somewhere in the middle, and got to discover an opening act that is just getting its feet wet. This weekend, we will be seeing another band at the stratospheric other end of the spectrum.

Kodaline--"High Hopes" for these guys.
Kodaline is a quartet from Dublin. I've joked this week that Mumford and Sons opened the door, and with Kodaline authenticity squeaked through. This is their first trip to America, and they're as green in their stage presence as the country they come from. But that's what makes them all the sweeter. I'm going to be watching for them as they continue across the country in a band. They've challenged themselves to write a new song for every stop along their tour. I can't wait to see what they come up with along the way. It doesn't hurt that they come from my favorite city, and I can imagine them on Grafton Street trying make enough Euros to buy a round of pints.

Mikel Jollett taking flight.
The Airborne Toxic Event was the band for which Kodaline opened. In between songs, front man Mikel Jollett made mention of the fact that he and his band mates have played 800 hundred shows in the last two years. That means that they have spend most of their time pursuing their path in music--literally. I imagine they're doing all right, but knowing a little bit about music, I also know that no matter how great I believe them to be, they have yet to be discovered by as many people as they so richly deserve. They're working their asses off for a piece of something they love. And how do I know they love it? It's because in the two shows I have seen with TATE, they've ended both with a medley of covers by other quintessential American musicians. They love music, and they want to be a part of what they love.

Sunday night, we will see another band clearly in love with what they do. And their love is obvious, because quite frankly, they are so damned good at it. One day last week as I listened to the song "Little Black Submarines," I started to wonder if it might be sacrilege that I would miss seeing the Black Keys a second time. When Dan Auerbach launched into the driving riffs of this slow burning affair, I knew it would be. I don't really know why I hadn't thought of going until that moment, but something about this one tune reminded me that even though I question the possibility that sound and that voice comes from these two guys, I'm doing myself a huge disservice by not seeing them in person to find out.

A couple years back, I was listening to Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney talk to Terry Gross on the National Public Radio program "Fresh Air." The two discussed the trials and tribulations of living out of a van while trying to get their music off the ground. Many people would judge The Black Keys for allowing their music to be used commercially in the way it was when they started to get their footing, but those same people who would judge probably never had to live out of a van. I'm sure making enough money for a nice tour bus and a couple houses doesn't make them love what they do any less. It certainly hasn't hurt the quality of their work.

When I think about what all of this means--the chance that a band like Kodaline is taking, the time investment of The Airborne Toxic Event in their craft, and the unfathomable success of the Black Keys--I start to consider that maybe somehow if you do get on the right path--the one where you love what you do--and you stay on it, maybe it all can work out.

Living out of a life that doesn't fulfill you isn't that much different than living out of van. In neither place can you really find yourself feeling at home. The fundamental difference between the two is this--a van has wheels and it can take you where you want to go.


High Hopes--Kodaline

Friday, April 19, 2013

Love--it really is worth the fall, so take the leap.

So, I seem to have found myself with love on the brain this week. All sorts of it.

It started over the last weekend as my husband prepared for a trip I didn't want him to take. He rarely travels, and over the last 15 years, I had kind of developed that same feeling that many wives do about their husbands going out of town--girl time, down time, my time. I think it came as a shock to both of us how much I didn't want even a few days of separation this time around.

We've been in what some people would think of as a weird place lately. Our marriage, which is typically a pretty well-oiled machine of partnership has become something a little more organic. Right now, it's more like what happens when a couple of trees root very near each other, and gradually start growing together. What happens if you try to split those trees? Nothing good.

It seems to me that we all have a person in our lives, at any given time, that puts down roots with us in some way. It's not always a marriage or even a great love affair. Sometimes, it can even just be a great friendship. That person is the one who makes an effort to pick you up when you don't want to get up. They're your go to when everything else seems to have gotten up and left.

While it may be overstating the obvious about a spouse being "your person," of late, Jeph has become more so than usual, because I've crawled back into a place where I live a lot in my head. He's really the only person I know right now who has a key. There are a small handful of people who knock, but for the most part, no one else even mistakenly pulls into the drive.

For whatever reason during the time apart this week, I have been bombarded by love.

A truly dear friend of mine has been traveling in our shared spiritual home. She invited me to come along, but the timing wasn't right for me. In spite of my inability to make the trip, she has shared every green moment with me, and I have felt very much a part of her journey. Much to both of our surprises, she found someone there who really touched her heart. It's the foundation of a great story, because it's true.

Cover art for Soul Seeker. Sorcha coming to life.
As I have been traveling with her vicariously, I have been editing my own love story. Through the process, I have found myself being very critical about my characters' path. How many pages into a novel is it appropriate for two people to fall in love? In my book, it only takes 21. Does that mean I'm easy? Does that mean there is no depth to my story? I don't know. I just finished the last page--probably not for the last time--and I felt myself wanting to change the ending. I found myself wanting to give them more hope in the face of the horrible fate to which I had sentenced them. Who am I to judge if they should be together forever or not? It's not my eternity. It's theirs.

It has me thinking that there is no right answer about love and when it becomes real. It's different for everyone and for every situation.

For a few weeks last year, I started to fall in love with the future of being a mother, even though nothing in my body was telling me that that future was real yet. In almost a year since then, the pain of losing that love hasn't become any less, just because it lasted for so little time. Being told over and over that it will happen again doesn't give me much comfort. It's still a love lost.

It only takes a moment for the seeds of family to take root.

In a weird twist to this week, I learned of the passing, just a few days ago, of a grandmother whom I barely knew. I can literally count on one hand the number of times I was around her. All of those times were awkward, because my father had chosen not to be a part of my life, and had royally mucked everything up when he changed his mind. In spite of his ineptitude in being real with me and trying to figure things out, his mother always made an effort to let me know that in spite of how I got there, I belonged. No matter how few times I encountered her, I have never forgotten her quiet elegance and composure in every situation, no matter how weird. In a way, I loved her, even though I barely had the chance to know her. She was family, maybe in a greater sense than many relatives who've been around throughout my life. But I think most people would find it ridiculous that there was enough there for me to mourn.

It's easy to pick out the "loves" that seem appropriate to us and to point fingers at the ones that don't. There are many instances in which we have to make choices, and we feel like following our hearts is the wrong decision for whatever reason.

Maybe it's a choice about whether we get on a train heading to Wicklow, or we stay in Ballybunion for another couple of days with someone we just met. Maybe it's whether we welcome someone home from a trip by unleashing our wrath about being left alone too long, or we open our arms. And maybe it's whether 21 pages is too soon for two strangers to be inseparable.

I think the questions are simple.

Would you rather spend two days gazing at a mountain range alone, or two days with someone who might end up meaning everything to you? Would you rather spend four days alone, than spend four more alone with the person you missed in the other room? Would you rather spend 218 pages waiting to see if they're going to fall in love or not, or 197 pages falling in love with them?

These are the questions of the day.

We all have a ticket. There are trains going everywhere. But we won't ever see anything if we don't get on. Love, no matter how we find it, is always worth a risk.

Sometimes it's going to end badly, and leave us in a hovel. Sometimes it's going to be grand and last a lifetime. If you think about it, in a world of so much uncertainty, struggle and strife, how many pages into our own lives can we afford to wait?

Love is Worth the Fall--OAR

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Matters of trust: Why we lie, what we gain and who gets hurt

So, here in Kansas City, there's a radio station that does a little bit every Wednesday morning that by design lights the fuse of exploding relationships. In "War of the Roses," a suspicious partner in a relationship has the opportunity to either expose their significant other as a loyal and faithful partner, or a adulterous cad. It's usually a woman trying to expose a man as one or the other. The female DJ poses as a florist offering free roses to be delivered to the person of the suspect's choice. If they choose the person asking for this service, that person's fears are "put to rest;" if they choose someone else, that nagging suspicion is confirmed.

I don't catch this little bit very often, but every time I do, the result is the same--I end up clenching my teeth and wincing with agony over how it usually plays out. And regardless of whether the suspicious partner is right or wrong, the lack of trust displays the cracks in the relationship's foundation, and the likelihood that these folks are in deep trouble whether someone is cheating or not.

Lying and mistrust hurt people. Sometimes the truth is harsh, but at least at its core, it's not multiple layers of pain--it's mostly black and white. Being truthful with someone is a little like peeling off a Band-aid, it definitely doesn't feel good, but if it's done directly enough, everyone can move on.

There are lots of opportunities in life that teach us who to trust, or whether we feel it's safe to trust anyone at all. This is true in our personal and our professional lives. The resulting feelings are the same, no matter where these opportunities play out.

A veterinarian I used to work with always said that I would make an excellent diplomat. Most of the time, I took that as a compliment. Working through problems and complaints can be challenging, and in turn very rewarding. But when I think about some of the times I have smoothed things over with people over the years, I often felt like I was doing some version of a handstand, while trying to eat corn on the cob. You really have to think about what you're doing.

Diplomacy is a careful balance between negotiation and ego stroking. One aspect requires honesty, the other aspect often requires a little "embellishment." I don't want to call it out and out lying, but let's be honest, sometimes, we don't fulfill the expectations we have set with the people we make promises to, and there is no valid reason we can give that the other person will accept.

And so, we work to divert their attention away from their disappointment. We stretch the boundaries of the situation to fit into a reality the other person can better live with. In our personal lives, we do it with family, spouses and friends all the time. We do it with well-meaning intent, most of the time. But the reality is that we also do it to save ourselves grief over situations that we really don't care about in the first place. In our professional lives, we do it to stay in the game and to stay "alive."

In work, we frequently are met with challenges that we are either able to meet, or that we are not. Our success and failure depends on our ability to finesse situations and provide desired outcomes. We have to sometimes mesh with people who seem to be covered in barbed wire, and we have to be able to protect ourselves and each other from damage and financial loss. In some work environments, strategizing is almost militaristic, so it's only natural that one of the methods employed ends up being "diplomacy." Careful, strategic stretching of the truth and circumstances, along with honest negotiation hopefully leads to an outcome that both parties can accept and move on from.

An ornamental structure--not the castle battlement it appears to be.
































































































































In our personal lives, wouldn't it be nice if we could take a break from the "war?" The constant intense feeling that we need to defend ourselves from the feelings of others is exhausting. The reason we land ourselves in uncomfortable situations with family and friends is because we want to avoid our own discomfort. Whether it comes from proving ourselves to be jerks in the face of others, or whether we just don't want to deal with the fallout of the other person getting upset, it's still our own discomfort we care most about. If we could avoid the entire situation completely, we often would.

That's the problem with lying, or entering into an agreement we don't fully commit to in the first place. As in the radio program "War of the Roses," it may be a blatant lie about why you were coming out of a neighbor lady's house at five o'clock in the morning. But most of the time, it's less so. It's things like letting people think you care about them, their situations, or their requests of you when you really don't. Eventually, no matter how much you try to massage it away, the truth of the situation is going to eventually wake everyone up in the middle of the night like a massive leg cramp. It's going to hurt someone.

Now, obviously, some of those "massages" are more dramatic than others. If you explain to your spouse that you didn't transfer a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer because you forgot, when really you just got distracted by other things you preferred to be doing, they're probably going to be irritated, but they're not likely to feel lied to and hurt about it. Those aren't the breaches in trust I think we need to be concerned about.

We need to choose our battles, and our diplomatic opportunities more wisely and efficiently. When we find out someone we've really cared about doesn't care as much about us, but is just being polite, does the politeness really make us feel any better about the situation? When the truth is revealed about the situation, it calls into question everything else we thought we knew or that we wanted to believe.

Sometimes those revelations are a window into ourselves and our own insecurities, and we need to look at ourselves and ask tough questions. Sometimes we need to understand shared, versus disinterested levels of commitment in relationships and what opportunities that inequity may point us to. Sometimes we choose to believe the lie, even if we suspect something else is true, because we want to believe something better about the person being dishonest with us.

But sometimes these "windows" into what's real are a revelation about the people behind the curtains in our lives. When we care about our own comfort more than we care about the pain we cause when the truth of the matter is revealed, the explosion of emotion is probably greater than if we had just been up front in the first place.

Whenever possible, just rip off the Band-aid. It will save everyone in the end.

Love the Way You Lie--Skylar Grey

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Say yes to yourself!

So, I make no secret that I watch more television than I should, but I like to think that most of the time, I'm not watching the worst of the trash that is available. I'm sure that there are plenty of 16-year-olds who didn't know they were pregnant, and are also mediums, and also housewives  that I am totally missing out on, but I gotta draw a line somewhere.

One of my favorite completely mindless shows--the ones I watch when I just need a little background noise--is TLC's "Say Yes to the Dress." I don't know for sure why it sucks me in; perhaps it's that little place in every girl's heart that dreams about her wedding, and imagines the perfect princess gown that she will wear one day. Seventeen years after my own wedding, that place never really shut down.

The premise of the show is pretty obvious--brides agree to have their wedding gown shopping experience filmed, and drama almost always ensues. The bride usually arrives with a group of people--sometimes large, sometimes small--that will help her choose the perfect dress for her perfect day. Sometimes there are individuals in the group who seem dead set on sabotaging the experience, while other times, the bride does a pretty decent job of sabotaging herself.

I watched a few episodes of the Atlanta version yesterday, and it started me thinking that choosing the perfect wedding dress is a pretty good metaphor for life. Amongst the episodes I watched yesterday, three women stood out. They all arrived at Bridals by Lori, all in hopes of finding their perfect gowns. One was a member of a roller derby team, another a reporter, and a third a former pageant contestant.

Each of these women had pretty well defined images, and each brought friends and family who said they wanted to help the brides find that "wow" dress that best fit the image of who they were. And that's where all the drama ensued. As you can imagine, people's images of you can be pretty skewed.

The group with the roller derby bride could only see her as the strong, athletic type, and poo-pooed every dress choice she modeled, including the one she loved. This bride was a bigger girl. I know what it's like to go dress shopping and feel like nothing looks good on me. I know what it's like to see every bump and bulge, and forget that those imperfections are why the entire spandex industry is such an outrageous success. It was quite a feat for her to overcome her own negative self-talk and see herself as a beautiful bride. It was painful to watch her friends, and even her dad give her the thumbs down at every turn. When you're poised to walk down the aisle, the last thing you want is for everyone to be thinking you can't be bridal.

The reporter had a completely bizarre approach to dress shopping--she actually chose not to choose at all. She brought in an entourage of friends and family, and was insistent that they would do a better job of choosing her dress for her. She declared herself "bankrupt of style." Let's be honest, no woman is actually devoid of style. We all choose a style, whether or not it's a successful style is a completely different issue. But as Geddy Lee sings "if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice." By choosing not to truly participate in the process, this bride ended up leaving the bridal shop feeling even more ambivalent than she had when she walked in. The sad thing is that such a successful individual didn't have enough faith in her own strength of choice to see herself as someone worthy of choosing. You can't choose who you are by consensus, and selecting a wedding dress is very much about deciding who you are--or at least who you want to be for one day.

And that leaves us with our pageant bride. Her mom wasn't able to see her daughter as being beautiful, unless she was wearing a "sparkle baby" gown, but after a childhood of pageantry, the bride wanted to be seen as beautiful without all the flash. At the same time, her "bridesman" wanted to see her in something very "fashion forward." I'm not going to lie, I don't even know what "fashion forward" means. Pageant bride starts out trying to please them both by trying on dresses that fit the image they have of her. But the discomfort of seeing herself in dresses that don't fit the way she sees herself pushes her to find her own voice.

After being brought to tears, or nearly so, by their entourages, derby girl and pageant girl both find their perfect dresses, but only after Lori's associates "jack them up" (add veil and accessories), and the whole picture comes into focus. It feels like a triumph when they choose themselves over the loud, and obnoxious voices of their detractors. And almost magically, when these women let their own voices be heard, everyone else was able to see them more clearly.

It's still a pretty good picture. 
I think I watch these shows because I made the mistake that the narrator of this show often talks about--tunnel vision. When I was getting married, I had a very certain dress in mind, and did not even consider the possibility that there might be another dress out there for me. I never had the dress shopping experience. As I think about the entourage of people I might have brought with me, I think maybe I'm better off. I don't even want to fully imagine the drama that might have ensued with my dress-shopping detractors. And as it happens, a certain duchess recently took a page out of my wedding album and wore a dress with quite a few similarities to mine--a tiny royal feather in my DIY veil.

There are plenty of times besides picking out a wedding dress where people try to dress us down--picking at the people we are. Often, we know what is right for ourselves, and we believe we know the right choices to make, and the right actions to take. There are plenty of instances within our jobs where tasks can be done in different ways, and the results are the same. Those are the gray zones. Other times, there really is only one way to choose to do the right thing. Those are the black tie and white gown moments in life. Those are the moments in which our choices really matter, and they define who we are to others, but more importantly to ourselves.

There are days I want to be more than I am, and I forget to embrace my own advice to "ride my own ride." At the end of each day, the choices other people make define them, and I don't have to live with those choices. I do have to live with my own. I'm not "just" anything. No matter what our jobs or positions, no one is "just" anything.

Choosing a wedding dress is a moment,  in which we can choose to listen to all the other voices and noise about who people think we are, or a moment in which we can choose to shut out all of that screaming and listen for our own voices. It is true that a few of those voices will be with us for the long term, but just like in life and work, one voice that will be with us forever.
there is only

Firework--Katy Perry