Mapmaker, Mapmaker, make me a map...

This past weekend was a relatively low-key one. I stayed around Cartersville, with side trips for yoga and drinks on Friday and a long bike ride on Saturday morning. Lots of time focused on being quiet, meditative even, as a I consider what it is I want most in this upcoming 34th year of life.

Friday's yoga journey was one of my best classes ever. Despite the heat, my mind was at peace, and as Jeff led us through the 26 postures of the Bikram series my thoughts flowed smoothly. My body held the poses, and my mind held the rythmn of this meditation. One step, then the next... one pose, then the next... one breath, then the next... and then finally one last deep breath, namaste.

As I left the room, drenched in sweat, yet feeling refreshed (oddly), I kept returning in a mental sense to the yoga room. When I got to the class, rolled out my mat and lay down with my eyes open, I knew exactly what would happen when class began. I knew the deep breathing exercise before the first 3 standing poses. I knew the physical steps of this journey. But I did not know where my mind would go in the next 75 minutes of being caught up in some sort of overdone heatwave.

Maybe that is the way it always is in life. Knowing the steps that need and will be taken, yet the mental and emotional component is always up for grabs.

As I thought about my pending travels to Europe this fall, I thought of the quick itenirary taped to my desk with the number of days I will be in each of the 8 cities I hope to see. One city, then the next... one step, then another...

The steps laid out, separated by trains or quick flights to here and there, and yet the mental journey of 'traveling' is what is unknown. How will each city make me feel? What will meeting up with old friends mean? What thoughts will be explored as I explore parts of Europe I have never set foot in?

Of course, that is what makes life 'life'. A series of many steps, a series of many breaths, a series of plans where we know where we are going, but we don't know what we will think or feel along the way. That is the surprise, that is what elevates 'an itenirary' to 'a journey'. An opportunity to explore ourselves in a new way. To put more thought into what we are doing... whether that be a Warrior I pose or raising a stein to good times in Munich.

What is it we hope to gain by taking the steps we take? What is it we hope to gain by following the path we have laid out in front of us? What is the goal of going here or there?

In coming to yoga, the goal was to breathe deep and let the past week go. In planning a foray to the other side of the pond, it's to let go for a while, reconvene with good friends, and have fun seeing a few cities I have yet to explore.

But what next? Where are all these little 'series of events' leading? My mind continued to wander, until I had wandered beyond Europe and found myself in the present ready to leave the yoga studio. On the way to meet up with a friend, I let the map of Europe expand to the map of my life -- what I want most, and how to make it happen.

So many plans to put into place. So much life to live. In daring to think what I wanted in this life, I more or less felt like I was unlocking an abandoned cupboard and all these old thoughts came raining down on me. How easy it was to breathe these thoughts in, how welcoming they were to my searching being. Thoughts that had been waiting for me to pick them up again... kind of like the book you start, but put down when life gets too busy... And here, were these dreams, these desires for life, ready to be pursued. In many ways it felt like digging in an old trunk, pulling out an old dress, dusting it off...smoothing a few wrinkles, and trying it on to see if it still fit.

And of course 'it' did. Our innermost desires seldom change. These desires are the keepers of us, the keepers of our hearts, the fire that gets us going so that our life can be what we invisioned, what we truly want. Its the voice of 'knowing' that this is the path you were meant to follow. Its the voice of guidance that tells you it will be okay.

I had not allowed this voice to be heard in quite some time. I had tuned it out, as I focused more on what others said I should want, or what would be best for me. As a result of listening to a caucophony of voices, I had gotten so far off track from what I wanted. My 'map closet' was in a true state of disarray. If you could even get the door open, you would find about 6 different maps spread out and all jumbled together. All of which I had explored in the past year. All of which led me no where. Or at least, no where I wanted to be.

Somewhere between a bike ride on Saturday, a long run on Sunday and quiet time later that afternoon, I got my map closet in order. There is only one map in play from here on out. Its the one that is etched in my heart. The one I know and feel the steps to take, the path, the pit stops along the way.

For in this life, we are all going somewhere... to yoga, to work, to Europe, or maybe just home. But in order to to get to where we want to go, we have to know where that is -- where it is we are wanting to go. Once that is decided, then the journey begins. Choose the path, choose where your next footprint will fall... and then let it all go. Let your mind wander, along with your heart...for its the story told by your mind and heart that allow a 'map' to lead to a journey.

Just like with Friday night's yoga, and the unexpected meditation. Or the many trips I have taken, and returned home on the brink of discovery. One step always leads to the next. One breath always leads to the next. But the true adventure happens when we let it all go, when we let our hearts and our spirits wander along with our feet, and dare to see where we will end up.

Chalking it up to Ideals

My life isn't the only life that has been thrown a curve ball or two. Although, when it comes to my days on this Earth, it does seem I am getting closer to 1/2 a dozen or so hiccups, where everything was thrown up in the air, time to regroup, restart and replan the rest of my life. I won't complain, as each time this has happened things sort themselves for the better, I become stronger, more independent and more focused on what I truly want. Its definitely for the positive.

2011 started with a hiccup - a BIG one - but not one that everyone did not predict or see coming. As the year has progressed and I have moved forward, I have often looked back and wondered 'what was I thinking?!', how did I get so far down this path - almost to the point of no return - when I simply wasnt happy, and never was going to be if I continued such path?

Then the other day, it all became clear, quite unexpectedly. A friend of mine and I were driving by a crowd of people, and I saw a guy who resembled my old beaux. I commented out loud, "That guy looks like such-n-such but with darker hair...It kinda looks brown." My friend practically stopped the car, exclaiming, "IT IS SUCH-N-SUCH AND OF COURSE HE HAS BROWN HAIR!!!"

Really? I always had thought it was blonde. As I looked back at the crowd, it was definitely my old friend. I recognized the same polo-shirt from last summer, same khaki shorts and same old flip flops. Yet it was him - his being - I hardly recognized. My old beaux definitely had brown hair, not blonde. And I was the idiot of the day for not seeing it.

Such a simple realization sent my thinking mind a churning and I had to wonder outloud as we continued on our drive. Is it possible, that maybe I was just 'too in it' to ever recognize the real him, to see him as he was? That I was so focused on making the situatation work, to make it what I wanted, that I never allowed myself to see the situation for what it truly was? Maybe if I hadn't been so focused on "the ideal situation", the "happenstance of life", the "need to find purpose in the whirlwind that led me back to Cartersville", I would have seen the light... the truth... what was real, and what was not...way before this random summer day? Not because of his brown hair, but because we never saw each other for who we were as people. The 'ideal' was there, but the reality was a bitter bite. Maybe had I seen clearly prior to now, the frustrations, the angst, the unhappy memories of the previous year wouldn't exist.

But they do. And as a result, I will never know the person in the crowd with brown hair, and he will never know me as I truly am. And it is sad, but it is real.

Long before this summer day, I had asked myself (and several girlfriends) if a yoga-mat-carrying, subway-riding NYCer who voted for Obama was capable of finding happiness with a truck-driving, sub-division-living GA-boy. Somewhere in the past 18 months I had figured out the answer, but it didn't ring crystal clear until now.

Somehow the ideal of 'making it work' outdid the truth of 'different strokes for different folks'. But we... or at least I... know now. Time to wipe the fingerprints and smudgies off the 'glasses of life', focus on what is real and say 'c'e la vie' to what isn't. Learn from the mistakes of yesterday, and move further forward.

Let 'ideals' be what they are, something to hope for, something to wish for. But let life and reality be what we want, what feels good, what we would choose if our eyes and our hearts are wide open... and what we recognize as real from afar (or up close), no matter how much time passes.

Making a List

One of the greatest joys of living in Georgia after an 8 year hiatus, is being around to witness the young years of my nephew's life. While there are times I question if Ramsey has any love for his aunt, I never have to question adoration I have for him or the beauty of being around for his wonder years.

My favorite Ramsey story of late, as told by my mother, goes something like this:

Ramsey and 'Nama (my mom) are making cookies, and in doing so they used the last of a key ingredient. Ramsey looks at Nama, and says 'you better put it on the (grocery) list.'

As my mom wrote the item on the household grocery list, Ramsey looks at her and said,

'Now if your good, you just may get it for Chwistmas.'

Ah, the connections made by a three-year-old!

Things that make you go 'Hmmm'

Having a bit of a breather for the past few days at work -- after our big purse auction event --I've had some time to do some cleaning out and reorganizing around the office.

Yesterday I went through this big 80's style metal cabinet, and was shocked at the contents. Keep in mind, after 7 months of working here, I have never needed to open it, so once the door was opened I was VERY uncertain as to what I would find.

I started at the bottom and worked my way to the top. As I worked my way up, the importance of things (from a business perspective) dwindled and the eye-opening, 'OMIGOD!' thoughts magnified. The lower shelves contained annual reports, evaluations, by laws, etc. The things you would EXPECT to find in a filing cabinet. The upper shelves contained personal files like taxes and legal documents. First off, who brings these things to work?! Let alone, leaves them at an office they no longer occupy?

I puzzled over these findings for a few moments, wondering what went on before I entered the office I now oversee. I let these thoughts go as I left for the day, and tended to my own personal matters.

But then, as life often goes, those thoughts from yesterday resurfaced as in managing our website I had to answer the security questions set up on our account.

The first question: Which bank is closest?

Are you kidding me?! I can see the Bank of America sign from my office window. And I am sure anyone who wanted to hack our system could too! You have to wonder what one thinks when they set up security measures like that. I mean why even have a question to answer?

It scares me sometimes to think how little brain power people choose to use, especially when they are trusted to look after something. Consciention, please!

When did I get old?

Its funny the things that remind us of our age, and how much we have aged. Being at the ripe age of 33, many friends have shared stories of finding their first gray hair, or possibly the first signs of a wrinkle forming. Maybe a mysterious few pounds that seemed to form over night and won't budge. Or a few slips of the mind resulting in misplacing an important file or missing a dentist appointment.

All of the above, minus the first (knock on wood) have happened to me. I try to take these things in stride, as its simply life. Its simply getting older. It happens to everyone.

But then tonight I was working on a piece for our local newspaper, one that discusses popular and current cartoon characters. Now, it was my turn to draw a blank. Other than Curious George or Lightning McQueen, I could not think of ONE current cartoon character that somone under the age of 10 would be familiar with. My list included Garfield, Odie and Papa Smurf, and yet I can't remember the last time I have seen these childhood characters on TV or ever heard my 3-year old nephew talk about them. I am officially out of touch with what the youngsters of today know about. In their terms, I am old. Or at least my knowledge of things they care about is.

When the Today's show ran a special this week on 'Back to the Future' turning 25 years, it caught my attention. I remember when the movie came out in 1985. I was 8, and went to see it three times in the theater. I owned the soundtrack on cassette (!). I would sing along with the lyrics that boomed from my cotton-candy pink ghetto blaster. Today, I dont even own a cassette player or have a music player that is larger than my hand. (Thanks, Apple.) Technology has changed with the times, although I am not sure if anyone ever developed the flux-capacitor or whatever the crazy scientist created in the movie.

So much has changed in 25 years. I have changed so much in 25 years.

Then I was curious as to what I would be when I grow up. Now, while I still ask the same question, I am well into my career, I have lived in three major cities, traveled to over 10 countries by myself, and bought a brand new car with my own money. I am grown, and still growing. And yet, I have to wonder if I am still growing up? Or simply growing old? Or is 'old' simply a relative term to explain the difference between to two things?

At the scholarship foundation, where I am the director, I am surrounded by young people, and that is what they seem to me - young, and dreaming, a bit naive, but ultimately young. I know 15 years ago when I came to the same office as a scholarship hopeful, I looked just like them. Same age, same dreams, same hopes about tomorrow. And yet, now when they see me they see a woman, not a girl. I am older in my appearance, and my demeanor... and they probably put me somewhere close to their mother's age. Scary thought.

Its crazy how time trickles by. When we least expect it, our age is thrown at us, reminding us of our time spent here on Earth.

In the end, we all get older, and we all grow up. Tomorrow's generation will see today's generation as older, and eventually old. And the same for generations after that. I never really thought of it that way as I have always felt extremely youthful. While a simple search for current cartoon characters won't change my outlook on life, it does remind me that I am not the young whipper-snapper I used to be, and I know one day before I am ready someone (probably Ramsey) will refer to me as old. And in comparison to him, he will be right.

Shaking it Up

I've always been a firm believer that the only obstacle in our lives is the way we think about things. If you think you are short, you are. If you think you will never get your dream job, you won't. And if you think its impossible to get moving before 6AM, most likely, for you it will be.

When it comes to life and how to live it, I think we should all take a lesson from the bumblebee. As science would tell you, an insect so fat with such tiny wings can never get off the ground and fly. And yet it seems someone forgot to tell the bumblebee, for it sure gets around on those tiny wings!

Our outlook makes or breaks us in terms of getting what we want.

In the past 6 months, I find myself continuously putting off the things I want to do most. I have my set routine each morning, with the gym and getting ready and getting to the office. In the evenings I let my life be as chaotic as it wishes with no set plans, other than my Tuesday night Spanish classes Jay and I are taking at Kennesaw. And yet, the one thing I want to do more than anything, is spend more time putting thoughts down on paper/screen. I love writing. I love telling my story. I love fitting words together so that the simpliest of ideas come to life in such a vibrant concoction.

Since my foray into a writers life that began in Spring 2009, I have not done as much as I wanted with this passion. I got sidetracked and way-layed with multiple moves, new jobs, significant others and all the other things that have filled my life the past six months. I made excuses, put things off, and told myself there wasn't the time.

The only thing that really happened was my dreams of writing have not happened. So its time to put them into action, its time to believe I can fly and I can do what I truly want. Its time to believe a little more like the bumblebee, and ignore timelines and deadlines and the pressures of the day to day that can get in the way of any dream imaginable.

So my morning routine, is getting a facelift. (or actually I will probably need one once I start waking up at 5AM for days on end). I am now awake at 5AM every day, hitting the gym to deal with my nervous energy, and then I have an hour to write and see what happens when words really do start fitting together.

For so long, I held onto this notion that the only place I could write was Spain. I loved the writers life I lived there, waking up and running first thing, showering and then writing at the cafe and then going about my day.

Well, here, its no different. I still have a story to tell, and there is no time like the present to tell it.

Oh, to be David Jones.

The global CEO of the agency I used to work was one of the coolest people I have ever met. When I started at Euro RSCG he was the CEO of the New York office, and my role in new business had me working with him on an almost daily basis. He was simple, yet inspiring. Quick minded. Thoughtful. He knew what he wanted, and could always ask in a way that wasn't imposing but seemed like the natural order of business. He spoke multiple languages, and had a British accent. He had a beautiful family, and as often heard in the ladies room, he was quite handsome himself. He was very charming, very caring and knew how to do his job. He was fun to work with. He listened to ideas, and could always make the best decision.

Now, I am friends with David Jones on Facebook, and its interesting to see the pages of his life. He has traveled the world -- probably 40 times around. He is on stage with people like Kofi Anan and Bill Clinton. He thinks of projects that will benefit the world and puts them in action. He wins clients for Euro, and I think every year of his career he has gotten a promotion.

He is one of the few successful people you like to see succeed. It doesn't seem to go to his head. During the first week of my job at Euro, he asked me to his office to talk New Business. I was amazed at the decor of his office. Obviously someone had set it up with a Euro/Asian theme, but what I loved most were the personal touches. The surfboard in the corner to remind him there is more to life than what you do behind a desk. The drawings by his children that were framed and he claimed were the best print ads ever. The bottle of water and breakfast sandwich wrapper snagged from a deli because even people like David Jones have to eat.

There was a well known and too often true joke that went around the office about Mr. Jones. It went something like this: Mrs. Jones was walking her son Deacon through the park in Tribeca, and her son started waving in the air yelling 'Hello, daddy!'... She asked him, 'do you see your dad? where?!' To which he replied. "He's up there Mommy!" pointing to a plane.

And in perusing Mr. Jones's facebook page, I could see it. His photos are made by his blackberry. There are no friends or family in any of them. There are landscapes and cityscapes but no faces. 75% of the time he is on a different continent than his family, and rarely the same country. His children grow, learn, make new friends and adopt new hobbies -- much of what he doesn't get to witness. He spends more nights in a hotel than his own bed. That would be such a sad life.

There is a price for every happiness. And the exciting life of David Jones may have been that one day - exciting. But you wonder what is the price of such excitement, and if he could do it all over again which path would he choose. Sure, his business sense will allow a nice life and education for his kids. But I bet all of them would trade in learning one less language just to have their daddy around one extra day a week. And I bet he would be willing to trade a few million dollars a year to have more photos of him and his kids to share with the world.

You can be alone anywhere. Its the faces that make a place home. And I worry that for some with lifestyles like Mr. Jones, the familiar faces are those seen in the office or worse, on Facebook. Oh, to be David Jones.