 Currently, we have a sofa and a loveseat in our living room. They're overstuffed, somewhat comfy, and they match, but after 6 years of intense use and a basically rabid dog who has made these couches into her extra large doggy bed, they're trashed. Three of the main cushions have holes with stuffing literally popping out of them (I find fluffy white pieces on the floor all the time), one cushion had to be thrown out recently after Sayde peed all over it for no apparent reason, and there are a number of dirty paw prints, weird stains, and permanent depressions from dog-and-human butts that have left these couches in their current state of disrepair. Oh, and did I mention that we originally got these couches from our building's trash collection area on the day we were moving from one apartment to another in DC? [Should I have led with that?] We saw them sitting next to the dumpsters as the moving people were loading up our moving van, so we asked them to "pick up those two couches and add them to our stuff." We were still working with a futon at the time and these couches looked new and had no issues, so they were a serious upgrade. Anyways, I didn't realize how bad things had gotten until preparing for my grandmother and great aunt's visit; while straightening-up I went to flip a cushion to hide the big hole in the middle of it and realized that the holey side I was looking at was actually the "prettier" and less holey side of the two. Eek. It was then that I thought, okay, enough. These have got to go. So I did what any self-respecting mom of a baby and hot-mess-dog would do and hit the Facebook Marketplace for a used couch. I started messaging people and measuring our space, thinking surely we could find what we needed in a used capacity...but after a little searching I started to realize that most of the "affordable" used couches were as much of a mess as ours, or an ugly color or pattern that wouldn't match our living room. Ben and I discussed our situation and for once, decided we would get a big, nice, new piece of furniture for our house. We love our house. We want to stay here a long time. We spend all of our time in our living room. We spend a lot of time sitting on the couch, and we plan to continue to do so for years to come. We've bought a lot of wonderful [and beautiful!] furniture used, but we felt like it was time to skip the second-hand route, bypass Ikea, and buy ourselves a couch that was the perfect fit for our needs. The whole idea made me nervous, but I agreed to it. So this past weekend we went to a furniture store to pick out new couches. It was kind of insane trying to make a huge purchase while chasing a toddler around a furniture store (so many sharp edges and corners and breakable vases!), but we did it: we picked out a sectional that is getting delivered on Tuesday. We got insurance that includes coverage for dog pee, muddy paws, and red wine spills (true story, can you believe they have this kind of insurance?!), and the couch is insanely comfy and pretty. But guess what [and no huge surprise here]? Instead of going home excited about our biggest furniture purchase of our lives, I was an anxious wreck. Did we get the right couch? Why did we just go to one place, look at a few couches, and then pull the trigger? Why did I let Ben's thrill over having "the couch of his dreams" take over and lead to such an expensive purchase? Who do we think we are, buying a new couch from a nice store? What makes me think I deserve this or can afford this? Growing up, we never bought new furniture. Most of the furniture in our house was either used or a family hand-me-down. I still remember when I was young and we went to pick out a new oversized ottoman to go with our [hand-me-down] couch and it was a HUGE event. I was so proud of that ottoman. Later, my stepmom would buy nice new furniture for my dad's house, but there was always an undertone of my dad's disapproval because we all knew that he didn't really think they could afford it. It's not like we were super poor or never had anything new, but big purchases were a big deal and new things were an even bigger deal, and I know this rubbed off on me; I feel the same way about buying big things now, despite having way more new things than my parents ever did. And again, it's not like Ben and I have never made big purchases or bought anything new--I mean, we bought a house for goodness sake (!)--but we've never bought a piece of furniture this expensive. Or a big, brand new piece of furniture. And we've never made such a big purchase so quickly, with a toddler interrupting every question we asked and pulling my attention in another direction throughout the entire purchasing process... So that's where we are now. I'm trying to keep in mind that we do deserve this and are two thoughtful, very hard-working adults (parents, no less!), who can make big purchases when we want to and need to as long as we're being smart about our finances. I continue to remind myself that couches are expensive (in general) and investing in something nice and useful for our family is not reckless. I'm learning to let go of my anxiety around money, but it sure is hard when you're a person whose default is to be anxious about E V E R Y T H I N G. I'm also sure that I'll feel better once the couch is delivered and we see how well it fits in our new space, how comfortable it is, and how much of a difference it makes in our lives (at least I hope I will!); but also, I just hope Sayde doesn't pee on it the second it gets delivered. Or Charlie Mae doesn't throw up on it. Or I don't spill a glass of red wine right in the middle of it. Not that our insurance won't cover these things, but man, that would just be so us.   ...Eats Dark Chocolate in the shower after a long day? ...Refuses to buy dry-clean only clothes? ...Hoards coupons but always forgets to actually use them before they expire? ...Gets stressed out any time that I take my iPhone out of it's Lifeproof case for more than 10 seconds because I'm convinced that it is going to shatter into 1 million pieces as soon as it's removed? ...Cannot sleep without a pillow between my knees? ...Gets actual photographs printed on a monthly basis? ...Honestly can't tell the difference between cheap and expensive wine? ...Would rather share my house with bugs than take the time to remove the spider or unidentified creepy crawler from the wall or ceiling? ...Thinks that salsa containers at restaurants are *never* big enough? ...Doesn't like wearing my glasses because they make me feel separate from the rest of the world? ...Just scribbles with practically no rhyme or reason every time I'm asked to sign something? ...Is constantly committing to fun plans, events, and activities in my head but never actually attending them when they roll around? ...Still hates mushrooms after all these years but wishes I liked them? ...Never washes my car? ...Always finishes the pickle slice before I finish my sandwich and thus, always wish I had another pickle? ...Am I? Or can you relate? {You can read the first installment of this post--from back in 2014!--here.}   New month {OMG}, so I think it's time for another "lately" post! Here's what's happening in my world these days... 1: Number of times I've practiced yoga for longer than 15-20 minutes in the past month. I am SO sad about this and am planning to remedy the situation this month. This is the least yoga I've ever practiced in my life (since starting practicing regularly, of course). I blame all of our childcare issues (see below). 2: Number of cans of seltzer that I'm drinking per day--but only because I'm limiting myself to this number (or it would be WAY more). Could there be anything more refreshing than a cold can from the fridge? #addicted 3: Number of childcare providers we've been through since Charlie Mae was born 6 months ago. Why has it been SO hard for us to figure this out?!? We start our newest childcare option next week--praying that this one finally works out! 4: Number of unread books on my nightstand. Also the approximate number of minutes I can read each night before falling asleep, and thus, why there are so many unread books on my nightstand. 5: Number of weekly yoga classes I'm teaching right now. This is also the least yoga I've ever taught since becoming a teacher back in 2010, and it's weird because it still feels like a lot. How did I teach 17 classes per week when I first started? Or even 12 classes per week when I lived in DC? Or 10 when I first moved to the Cape? Crazy. 6: Hours of sleep I've been averaging since we introduced solids into Charlie Mae's life on Friday. The girl has been having some serious belly issues and those great nights of sleep that I told you about recently? Vanished, just like that. Hoping this new pattern is a short-lived thing and her digestion calms down ASAP. 7: Days per week that Sayde now asks for her "dinner" at least 1-2 hours before she's supposed to get it. The girl is killing me with her nonstop barking and sad "I want dinner" eyes at 1:30pm! 8: Number of client projects that I'm currently in the middle of (with Sara's help, obviously). 9: Number of tabs open at the top of my browser right now; most of them are articles or links that I need to check out and haven't gotten to yet. Do you leave this many tabs open at once, too? I know I'm not the only one who works this way... 10: Number of Dark chocolate bars that Ben purchased on his trip to Whole Foods yesterday (when I asked him to pick up just one). The guy is OUT OF CONTROL when it comes to sweets these days. Is this what parenthood looks like? Just making it rain with $4 chocolate bars? ...And that's what's happening in my hectic life right now. What does the numerical breakdown of your life look like these days? Happy March, everyone!    Growing up, I probably went to the beach once or twice per year, max. Sometimes we went to visit family who lived in Florida, on a few occasions we took family vacations to GA beaches, and as I got into middle school and high school, I often went to the beach with friends and their families. The beach was always something that didn't feel too far away, but was not easily accessible on any given weekend, and I didn't ever think of it as a big part of my life. As I got older, I continued to enjoy the beach, but it was just a vacation spot--a spring break destination and once-per-year indulgence. And then Ben and I got together in college, and I remember the first time that I went with him to his "hometown" [Cape Cod] and met his family. We drove from KY to Cape Cod together after his graduation and arrived in the middle of the night, totally exhausted. When we finally woke up and ventured out the next day, I was dumbfounded that he grew up in such an idyllic place. I didn't understand how he could ever leave somewhere so beautiful and quaint. In the years following, we would visit the Cape as a couple at least once per year, if not more. In the early days, Cape Cod wasn't ever a place I imagined living one day, it was just the place Ben grew up, and subsequently, the place that I was lucky enough to get to visit on a regular basis. Fast forward to present day, and in November, we'll have been living on the Cape as a couple for 3 years. We bought a house here, we're having a baby here, and it's now home. We live 5 minutes from the beach and are experiencing our third summer here, and I still sometimes look around in awe and adoration. Last night, as we drove to dinner down Historic 6A--what I have to guess is one of the most beautiful "highways" in the country--to eat dinner outside at one of our favorite spots right on the water (Sesuit Harbor Cafe), I couldn't stop saying how crazy it is that we live somewhere so beautiful, somewhere that so many people flock to in the summers, desperate to get away from the heat of the cities and into the water. While I've loved everywhere that I've lived (and I really mean that!!), living by the beach definitely takes the cake, and this summer I am more grateful than ever for the fact that I have ended up here. Being able to take a quick drive over to the ocean and jump in on a hot day [especially when you're pregnant!] is priceless. Spending a Saturday afternoon lounging on the beach just because you can is never a mistake. Heading down to the beach to catch a glimpse of the sunset on a random Sunday night always puts things into perspective. And walking your dog on the beach in the middle of a weekday (in the off-season, of course) is the best break you can ask for during a busy workday. I've found that now that I've lived by the water, it's become an integral part of my life (even though I don't get to spend as much time there as I'd like). Just knowing that the beach is 5 minutes down the road is enough to help me relax, and getting there is often all I need to let go completely--even when I feel quite overwhelmed. I know that not everyone is a beach person, but we all have that place or that kind of place that is meaningful to us, whether we've identified it yet or not. And since moving to the Cape--a place that I didn't know I would love so much, but now feel totally connected to--I've realized how good it feels to live in a location that speaks to you, that you feel passionate about, and that just feels like home [even if you hardly knew it existed for the first 20 years or your life or so]. So, as I bask in gratitude for the life journey that brought me to this unexpected little sandbar, I want to encourage you to think about the place where you live right now: how do you feel about it? Does it make your heart sing? If not, where would you like to live or end up? And how can you start taking baby steps to move in that direction? If you can't move because of work, family, or economic restraints, how can you find ways to reconnect with the parts of nature or the parts of your location that you love most? I'm here to tell you, living somewhere that you love sure is a special way to add another dimension of happiness and beauty to your life.   It's Christmas Eve! And my last blog post of 2015! Let's celebrate: First, I want to say a huge HAPPY HOLIDAYS to you + your loved ones (including fur-babies, of course). I hope your season is magical and that you find the space and strength to soak up the good and let go of the not-so-good. Thank you for all of your holiday wishes and love this time of year. Second, I want to do a very quick year-end recap of what happened in Starr Struck-land in 2015. {If you haven't yet done something similar, I encourage you to do so, as it's a really great way to look back at what happened in your life over the past year and remember all of your adventures, accomplishments, and excitements.} Here are the highlights/some of the bigger things that I did in this past year:
Personally, I also traveled to Peru for 10 days, we bought our first house + moved (and thus, added lots of home DIY projects to the list), traveled to TN meet a dear friend's new babe, and of course, hosted lots of houseguests... It was an amazing year! Although looking back at this list, I can now understand why I've been feeling a little exhausted as of late ;) That being said, after taking a week off to recharge, here's what's happening in my world {event-wise} at the beginning of 2016, in case you want to join:
Sound good? I am SO excited for 2016 and all of the unknowns that it holds for all of us, but am equally excited about the next week of holiday festivities and time with family (Ben and I are headed to Atlanta on Saturday to spend 5 days with my fam there). I hope you're able to be as present as possible as you celebrate and luxuriate into the New Year... Happy happy everything! And once again, thank you for being such an important + wonderful part of my life in 2015. Lots of love and xoxos!   {Basically all of my blog posts/"deep thoughts" these days start with the same sentence: "I was listening to a podcast the other day and..." I know it's getting old, and yet, today's post is going to start the exact same way. Here goes!} I was listening to an episode of Being Boss the other day, and the guest, Life Coach Jay Pryor, said the following: "These days, everyone has a platform--it's free--so the only reason that you're not using yours is because you don't want to." This really struck me. I was reminded that in our current version of the world, if you have something to say or something to share, you have a ready-made platform online. Whatever it is that you stand for, create, believe, or love can be shared with a few clicks, and if you're regular about those clicks and about your message, your passion will eventually build a community of like-minded individuals. Knowing this--knowing that you have the ability to step up onto your platform at any point--is very empowering. You can make the choice whether or not to use your platform and how you want to use it. But that's the thing: if you're not using your platform it's important to acknowledge that you're making a choice and you're saying to the world that you don't want to. {Which is totally fine! This is your choice to make and deciding not to use it is totally valid and great!} Because that's the other thing about your platform: you can use it for whatever you want. You can use it to be political, to stand for what you believe, to share your story in order to teach people to be more open or accepting, to grow your business, to display your creations or artistic endeavors, to make people laugh, to become the go-to resource for kitten videos, whatever you want. And this is exciting. There's a big conversation around blaming social media and the internet for making our attention spans so short, for making us slaves to our phones, for distracting us with the endless scroll and giving us a way to escape the present and what happens 'IRL' ("In real life," which is now a term we need because so much happens online). And I'm the first to admit that I have said, probably many times, "If I didn't have to be on social media for my work, I would get off." But when I really think about it, deep down I know that's not true, because I am super grateful for the free platform that social media has given me and for the ways in which it has changed my life for the better. In fact, how I make my living didn't exist 20 years ago, and I know I have the internet to thank for this life that brings me so much fulfillment. So, here's what I want to ask you today: if you aren't using your platform, why have you made the choice not to? Is it an intentional choice? If so, what is the reason behind it? If you are using your platform, it's worth thinking back on why you chose to use it and how it has helped you. If it's not helping you and is only hurting you, why might that be? It's time we take ownership over our choices and experiences when it comes to social media and living life online. I'm ready to own up to the part I play in all of this, stop the social media bashing, and express my gratitude for the free platform that I've been given; how about you?   I've worn my Fitbit every single day since June, 2013. I haven't ever forgotten to pack it when traveling, I've only forgotten to put it on in the morning a handful of times, and on those rare occasions when I have forgotten it, I've returned home a couple of hours later to give it a little hug + kiss, tell it how much I missed it, and clip it on immediately I'm a Fitbit addict, and I know I sound a bit crazy, but I really don't think I am--I'm not consumed by my need to get an insane amount of steps each day [a la David Sedaris], or with raising my goal every time I hit it, and my Fitbit hasn't turned me into an obsessive Step Nazi--I just like to know how active I am each day and I like the little push that my Fitbit provides when I've been a bit too stagnant. So, when I accidentally threw my Fitbit into the washing machine with a pair of my yoga pants on Sunday, I was heartbroken. I realized halfway through the rinse cycle and rushed to save my little friend, but it was too late. I pulled my Fitbit out of the wash and tried to resuscitate it; I plugged it into the charger to see if just needed a little boost, but the screen didn't come on. No encouraging "Keep it moving, MCS!" flashed across it's face. It was over. I ordered a new one within 24 hours, but due to shipping and processing time, it's now Thursday and my new Fitbit still hasn't arrived. For the first time in over 2 years, I've spent 3 full days--and today might end up being my fourth--without a Fitbit clipped onto my clothing somewhere. Part of me was expecting to find that these Fitbit-less days would be freeing or would have something to teach me about our reliance on technology, but I have to tell you, they haven't. I've missed being able to check-in at the end of the day and get a little jolt of satisfaction for meeting my step goal--or on more active days, surpassing it. I've heard stories of people running in place next to bed before getting in, just to get their last few steps, but I haven't taken it that far (except for that one time that I went downstairs to get something that I didn't really need, just so I'd hit 10,000...). Although this isn't the case for me now, for much of my life, I was an over-exerciser and I had a lot of anxiety about working out enough/burning enough calories. Oddly enough, although my Fitbit tracks calories, I never even look at them and could care less. All I want to know is how many steps I've walked and how many flights of stairs I've climbed. Sure, my Fitbit helps to quell some of my lingering anxieties about getting my body moving, because even on the days when I might not have time to do a full, really active workout, I see that I was still moving around, still active, still walking quite a bit, and that feels like enough. But I love seeing how much I walk when traveling or visiting new places, I love checking it after a long walk on the beach and seeing how many miles we walked, and I love being notified that I didn't get many steps in a day, because it reminds me to "Get moving!" a bit more the next day. Do you think I sound crazy? Maybe you do, but if you, too, have a fitness tracker, I hope you understand. And maybe calling myself an addict is too strong of a word, but if not, this is one addiction I'm okay with. Yes, I've had some phantom Fitbit sensations over the past couple of days; I've reached down to check it after a walk, I've reached over to sync it on my nightstand at night, and I've had flashes of feeling like the steps that I'm taking don't really count...Towards what? I don't know, and maybe therein lies the problem, but there's something about holding yourself accountable for even the most basic things--like walking--that really works for me. What do you think? Are you a fitness tracker addict? Do you feel my pain? Can't wait to get back in the game when my new Fitbit arrives... ;)   Periodically (more often than not), when walking around my house, I come across a big dustball on the floor, usually in a corner. Typically, upon a dustball sighting, I kneel down, "sweep" around the dustball with my hands, gather all of the dirt + particles into my palm, and deposit the pile into a nearby trashcan. But sometimes, I see the dustball, I'm perfectly aware of it, and I just keep walking and leave it where it is. [I know, try not to judge me too harshly...] In fact, there are thin layers of dust on quite a few surfaces in our home, which we do dust every once in a while, but not on any sort of strict schedule. I believe the last time I dusted was about 5 months ago, and I believe I stopped after completing the main rooms of the house. So, if you can't already tell, here's what I'm getting at: I'm not much for cleaning. Don't get me wrong--I'll straighten all day, we're on top of our laundry and our dishes, we de-clutter our surfaces on a regular basis--but deep cleaning, it ain't happenin' much in this house. And I'm okay with this. A super clean house isn't a huge priority for me, and I'm all about realizing what adds value to your life/makes you feel content, and then putting most of your energy into those areas. If cleaning isn't something that adds great value for me personally, I'm fine with pushing it down on the list and doing it only when it becomes a necessity. That being said, I can't help but get stressed when we have unexpected guests who see our house in "disarray." I get anxiety before having people over, and become a dictator, ordering Ben around and checking his progress as I make him spend an afternoon cleaning the house with me (which, let me tell you, isn't the greatest for our marriage). And you know why I do this? Because deep down, some part of me feels that as a woman, I will be judged for the cleanliness of my house. Ben feels none of this pressure or judgment, but despite hating what it represents, I feel it in my core. Perhaps it's because my mom was always deep cleaning and straightening, and although our house was quite clean (cleaner than mine will ever be, I fear!), she was always apologizing to guests for "her messy home." But I also believe that a big part of this pressure that I feel comes from the knowledge that traditionally, women were in charge of keeping the house clean. Even though I have chosen not to buy into this belief, sometimes I still feel the lingering effects of it's existence. As a couple who lives in a home together, I think that Ben has just as much responsibility in keeping the house clean as I do, and I let him know this on a regular basis. The only problem here: he doesn't see the dustballs in the way that I do. He's so blissfully unaware that the house is mess that he could go much longer than I could. And deep down, he isn't judging himself for the discoloration of the bathroom tiles in the way that I am. A few years ago, while living in DC, Ben and I decided to hire a cleaning company to deep clean our apartment once per month. It felt totally indulgent and I had a separate kind of guilt for bringing people in to clean while I sat on my computer and worked in the next room, but when we calculated the cost for cleaning and how long it would take us to do the same thing, we felt it was worth it financially to outsource this task. And it was pretty great. Then, we moved so that Ben could pursue his dream job, our finances changed, and we decided that we needed to buck up. "Bucking up" turned into living among a few dustballs and cleaning periodically over the past 16 months, and everything was fine. But now here we are--about to close on our very first home THIS Thursday (so excited!), and this subject has come up again for us. We want our first home to be something we're proud of, and we want it to be kept pretty clean. Ben got back from walking our dog recently, and called me to say that he had come up with a great idea: "We'll make a chore list and divide up all of the chores that need to be done on a regular basis, and every Saturday, we'll each tackle our chores!" Really, Ben? Your great idea is the oldest idea of ALL time, created for children so that they learn a sense of responsibility, and done in order to receive gold stars and allowances? Sadly, this is what we've come to. In order to keep our new house clean--something that we both admit is climbing the ladder of importance, since we are going to actually own this place--we need a chore list. Do you think that we should use gold stars, just to honor the tradition? When you own something, it becomes yours. You priorities often shift, and hopefully, you learn how to take care of that thing a little better than you would otherwise. I don't think that buying a place will necessarily change all of our cleaning habits, but I do hope that it causes each of us to see cleaning in a slightly different light. So, as I think about moving into our new home, which we will do leisurely over the next month or so (we're going to paint it ourselves before moving in!), I know that I do want to make a shift to keep the place cleaner. But I also know that I want to let go of my deep-seated issues involving cleanliness and self-worth as a woman. And perhaps I want to think about hiring a cleaning company again--just every once in a while (tight budget or not!)--so that I can rely on the professionals to help keep my chore list to a minimum, and my quality of work + life to a maximum ;) What do you think? Do you, too, struggle with mixed feelings around what it means to have a clean house? I hope I'm not the only one...   Helllooooo! It's amazing to be back in this space! I was excited to roll out of bed [at 5:30am, ruh roh] and get back to blogging this morning. It made this first day back to reality much easier. As you probably know, I just took 11 days off from blogging--the longest break I've EVER taken (!?)--and it was much needed. I used this time to visit with my family, celebrate, relax a bit, set intentions for the New Year, focus on teaching, and do some behind-the-scenes work on a new project (more on this coming soon...). I figured that although I wouldn't be blogging over the break, I'd be very connected on social media. I told you to follow me on Instagram to see pics of my travels and celebrations, and I honestly planned to be super active. But you know what happened? I did the opposite. I kinda dropped off the face of the social media earth for a while. It wasn't intentional, but it just went that way. Did you notice? Did you care? Did you decide to stop reading my blog because I didn't post pics on Christmas morning? Did it affect you in any way? No? I didn't think so. And that's what I tried to remember as I ignored the nagging voice that said I should be posting a pic of the cookies that we just baked, as we pulled them out of the oven. Or that I should take a quick snapshot of the cute wrapping paper before I opened the present. We all know that if you're a solopreneur, a business owner, an artist, a blogger, a yoga teacher, you should be on social media and you should be active. This is now a given. You need to promote your events, services, products, and connect with your students or clients or shoppers. However, that doesn't mean that you can't take a few days away from social media. It doesn't mean that you can't turn off to be present with the people and experiences that you love. This is what I struggled with over the break. Throughout the holidays, as I was living an experience, I had this nagging feeling that I should be capturing this. I held my cousin's adorable baby and looked into his cute little face, and later, when I'd handed him off to someone else, I thought, Oh no, I forgot to get a pic with Porter! I went on a walk in the woods with my mom, leaving my phone in the car because I didn't have a pocket, and when we got to a river I thought, Oh, this would be such a pretty instagram! I should have carried my phone! After Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I judged myself for not taking any pics of the scenes. In fact, I only have one pic of me and Ben together from the entire holiday season, and I hate it that I didn't do a better job capturing it. But I lived it. And that has to count for something, right? So basically, in a nutshell, here's what I experienced: Social Media wanted to steal my ability to be present over the holidays. It would whisper in my ear, "You should share this moment--it doesn't really count unless it's documented and posted," and for a minute, Social Media would succeed in taking me away from the moment. My mind would leave the room and I would think about taking a pic or posting, I would mull it over for a second or two, and then I would choose to say no, to leave my phone in my purse. Because I think that's what I needed. I just needed to be off the grid for a while. Does this resonate? Do you feel this constant pressure to post an experience as you're experiencing it? And does this pressure take away from that experience? I'm guessing yes. It's like when I went whale watching last summer, and there were these amazingly beautiful, breathtaking whales breaching right in front of us, and half of the people on the boat were experiencing the whales through their phone screens, missing out on the actual experience of seeing the whales, just so that they could document it. I don't want to see my life through a lens, I really don't. So here's my *small* 2015 wish for you: I hope that this year, you can spend more time actually living your life, and less time living it through a filter. And I hope you'll forgive me for being so MIA on your feeds over the past 11 days ;) Happy 2015, everyone!  Photo credit: deathtothestockphoto.com.
 ...Likes to dip my potato chips in ketchup, but is embarrassed by it, so tries to do it secretly so others don't notice? ...Can't go to bed if there are dirty dishes on the counter, but is fine if they're all in the sink? ...Loves this song? ...Puts on comfy, stretchy clothes the second I get home from anywhere (if I'm not already wearing them)? ...Still uses a paper planner but feels stupid when I pull it out to write down an appointment? ...Counts 8 Mile as one of the best movies ever made? ...Is more afraid of cockroaches than anything else in the world? ...Would rather get down on hands and knees and pick up dust bunnies/"sweep" with my hands than get out the vacuum and actually vacuum? ...Thinks this yoga pose is one of the hardest? ...Still waits at least a week or two to wear new shoes, even though I'm way past the days of new shoes for school? ...Has about 42 un-listened-to voicemails on my phone? ...Made a sign that said "I hate Kevin Bacon" and hung it in my room in 5th grade? ...Buys and then subsequently loses at least 10 tubes of Burt's Bees chapstick per year? ...Has no problem wearing mismatched socks? ...Am I? Or can you relate?   On my trip this past weekend, I spent a lot of time visiting with two particular friends. Both of these friends have young children: one has an 11-week old, and the other has a 7-month old and a 2.5 year old. As expected, the talk often went to motherhood and babies--I have tons of questions and I wanted to know about the day-to-day experience, the life experience, the shifts, the ups-and-downs, the preparations, the breastfeeding, the everything. My friends are open and honest and more than willing to share, and our discussions were eye-opening and terrifying and exciting, all at the same time. I laughed as I left my friends, telling each of them that my whirlwind tour of motherhood left me feeling like I really want kids soon but also like I don't want kids any time in the next 40 years. Truth be told, I know I do want kids--of that I am sure!--but when you see what having kids really means, what it really looks like, and when you understand that you lose your ability to flit off to a yoga class, to eat your breakfast while it's warm, to get any sort of real, restful sleep, or to come home and just sit down for a second before having to nurse or read a book or put someone to bed, it seems daunting. As many of you may know from experience, it's challenging being a woman of child-bearing age who isn't yet pregnant or trying, but who is thinking about the subject and interested and in many ways, surrounded by it. For some, there's an internal, hormonal, instinctual pressure to start reproducing. An urge to become a mother that is strong and can't possibly come from anywhere but inside. For others, and often for the same woman who feels the internal pressure, there are societal pressures--the questions from friends, family members, and even strangers. The looks that you get if you decide not to drink a glass of wine at dinner because you have a headache (even though you're not ready to have a baby yet and you thought everyone knew that!?!). There are worries about whether or not you will even be able to reproduce as that annoying time clock starts ticking, but there are also the calculations, "If we were to start now and I were to get pregnant now, that would mean that I wouldn't be able to do _____ next year." If I am already overwhelmed by my current schedule, how can I possibly add a baby to the mix? To add to the already impossible questions of when and how and why and if and if not, we also have the additional burdens of figuring our what motherhood means for our careers. We all know what a loser the US is when it comes to Maternity Leave policies, but how about throwing self-employment into the mix? When you're self-employed, like yours truly, if you don't work, you don't get paid. You stop working and your one-woman business ceases to exist. When you've worked so hard to build a job and a life situation that is sustainable and feels so right, how do you turn it off for the time it would take to [perhaps] have a baby and readjust to life with a newborn? What about that? I have never been one of those women who is just in love with babies in general. I've never been one to coo or fawn over a random baby that I meet on the street or in the grocery store, I don't look at calendars of babies sitting in flower pots and melt inside, and I don't feel that instinctual pull to touch or hold every baby I meet at a party. But these days, I adore my friends' babies--the babies that I have a connection to--and my love for them has been a shift. I want to hold them and coo at them and I can feel things changing inside, because my interest has been piqued in a way that it never was before, and for the first time in my life, I think being pregnant looks "fun." [I know, WTF, right!?] Obviously, there is no mention of fertility issues here either, which is a bigger conversation entirely (and I am just scratching the surface of this loaded subject that I have no experience with), but suffice it to say that this topic is a massive one and I don't think there is or will ever be one answer or one path that women go down, which again, makes this whole thing even more confusing and tough. In summary, I think that what I'm trying to say is: EEK! Being at this age and trying to "figure things out" (whatever that means?) is challenging. I know that "there's never a right time" and that there's "always going to be something" and that "you never know," but for now I just want to say EEK. And fellow women of childbearing age who are feeling all of the above and more, I'm with you, sistas. I feel you. We're in this together and you're not alone if you're confused and overwhelmed by this entire topic. Oh, and a word to the wise: Don't expect to get any clarity on things if you visit friends with babies--I'm telling you, it just makes the subject more muddled and crazy... ;)   Over the past 10 years or so, I've become a big believer in the idea that for the most part, things happen for a reason. Not everything--I know I don't want to go that far--but many things, especially the things that determine our life journey, where we go, and what we do. In my own life, there have been many legs of my journey that I can only guess happened so that I would end up where I am today:
And there are little examples of things happening for a reason, too, that take place on a smaller scale in our everyday lives. For example, three weeks ago (remember my "tough week?"), this happened: Ben was out in the front yard playing ball with Sayde, as always. I think I've mentioned it before, but Sayde has some aggression issues when it comes to other dogs, and her issues are always worse when we're on our turf, aka "her territory." As Ben was throwing the ball for her, a woman started walking down our street with her dog. Sayde started barking uncontrollably at them as they approached, and as Ben tried to get her under control, she launched her 11-pound body over our fence (we didn't know she could do this!) and attacked the dog. Needless to say, the dog's owner and Ben were freaking out. Eventually, Ben got Sayde under control and threw her into the house. Luckily, her tiny little mouth and tiny little teeth didn't even break the other dog's skin, but everyone was pretty shaken up. Sayde The Attack Dog? No thanks. The next day, I was working on the couch, still in my PJs (whoops), and the police showed up. The neighbor had called the police on Sayde, despite her assurances that things were fine the night before. Sigh. Although it was scary to have the police on our front step, the Officer was nice about it and recommended a trainer that we should call who works with "aggressive dogs." As you can imagine, all of this was really upsetting. Sayde is basically our child and having a problem child is not easy. What's even worse is that it felt really scary--if Sayde attacked the wrong dog, she could be killed. If Sayde really hurt a dog, she could be put down by the State. All of this is a long way of saying that I think these things happen for a reason. Three weeks and 11 private training sessions with the Police Dog trainer later, and Sayde is a different dog. She still has a ways to go, but much of her aggression and barking is under control. We now know how to control her when we come across other dogs while we're out walking--she's learning that she doesn't have to protect us and we're learning how to tell her that. It's amazing. But we never would have learned ANY of this if Sayde hadn't attacked that dog in the first place, and if that woman hadn't called the police, who in turn, recommended this trainer (we never would have found him, as he doesn't usually work with pets!). So, this recent incident has again bolstered my opinion that many things happen for a reason, and that often, when it's hard to see why something negative is happening, if you can just hold on, something good might come out of it. Or you'll learn something or grow in some way while dealing with it. You can call it whatever you want--Karma, the Universe, God's plan, or something else entirely--but it can be pretty magical when you look at life in this way. However, I think it's important to note that I have a hard time saying that great traumas or tragedies or losses happen for a reason. Maybe they do, maybe they don't, but it doesn't feel right to use this statement as an answer for everything. And I often have a problem with people using it in a halfhearted, cover-up-your-feelings sort of way, too. Do I think murder and rape happen for a reason? No, I don't. Do I think genocide or school shootings happen for a reason? No. Do I know why these things happen? Of course not. So yes, there are holes in my belief in this idea, but I'm okay with that. Maybe it isn't logical, maybe it doesn't fit in with any sort of system, and I'm okay with that, too. I prefer to look at the sunny side of life--to examine how things change us and where life takes us--but I guess if you've been reading this blog for a while, you probably already knew that ;) What do you think? Are there examples--on a small or large scale--of things seeming to happen for a reason in your life? I think it's worth thinking about...   Last week's retreat to Costa Rica was eye-opening in a number of ways. I had plenty of takeaways--most of them related to learning how to unwind and relax (see June's newsletter for more on this!)--but I think that one of the most important takeaways from this trip didn't really register until I returned and began settling back into my life yesterday. That takeaway? The benefits of being away from technology for a week. I know, I know, this is a hot topic and it's all over the place and many people are probably sick of reading about it/thinking about it, but please, hear me out. First, let me explain that we were not completely unplugged in Costa Rica. We had wifi in our dining hall and by the pool; I still blogged each day, I checked my email at least 2x each day, checked Facebook and Instagram occasionally, and posted a few social media updates throughout the week. But, I couldn't use my phone or computer in my room. I couldn't go to set my alarm at night and then spend the next 30 minutes scrolling through my NewsFeed in bed (I hate this but it always happens!). I couldn't check my email shortly after waking, I couldn't check my phone right after teaching or after my massage or after/while relaxing in a hammock, and when we left the retreat center to go on an excursion, our phones ceased to work--they simply became our cameras. On this trip, I was able to go on a technology diet that worked VERY well for my system. I slept like a rock every night, I was fully present with those around me, and I felt very detached from the online world. We had deep conversations that weren't interrupted by phones or alerts. We were able to read or nap or sleep without updates coming in. We handled online issues/posts in batches, all at the same time, instead of all day every day. One retreater told me that at home, she had gotten into the habit of waking up in the middle of the night to check her work email--because emails came in from the West Coast office around midnight--and that this trip was weaning her off of that habit. It's amazing isn't it, the extent to which we're ruled by our devices? I know it's everywhere, articles saying that our brains are changing, our communication styles are changing, our attention spans are changing, and I have to say that this past week, I really felt it. I felt the difference between a fully plugged-in life and a slightly less plugged-in one. The change was subtle, but as I reflect on my state of being over the past week, I see that it made a big impact. Did I go through real withdrawal symptoms the first few days there? Yes, definitely. It took me until about Wednesday (we arrived Saturday) to really settle into this slower pace and to unplug myself, and knowing that I felt those symptoms is proof enough for me that our technology is addictive and that our fast-paced lifestyles are not good for us. So, this week, as I settle back into my regular life, away from fresh coconuts and hammock-lounging and all organic meals prepared by someone else at the same time every day (sigh), I've decided to make the following changes to my tech life, and see how it feels:
Want to take it a step further? Start scheduling a tech-free day oncer per week. Again, pretty life-changing if you can make it happen. I may try to do this on Sundays, if I can...  
Last week, I received a reader essay submission that really spoke to me. As I read it, I felt like I was reading about my own experiences/past relationship with the gym, and it resonated so much that I knew I had to share it with you. So today, I'm excited to share this personal essay with you, written by one of my former students + fellow Tranquil Space front desk colleagues, Carolina Valle [of the blog Yoga Pants & Heels--how great is that name?]... Why I Broke Up With the Gym If you knew me in college, then you probably knew where to find me after class, most Saturday mornings, and anytime I bailed on a social activity: at the gym. I went at least 6 days/week, and it took something really important to make me miss the 7th day. The gym and I were inseparable. But like many real relationships, this one was a dysfunctional union founded on dependency, guilt, and negative feelings that kept me going back. I’m sure that back then I justified my slight obsession with the gym as a way to stay healthy and release stress...but what drove me to that place every single day were really two emotions: the fear of gaining weight and the notion that not going meant I was lazy. And those are the wrong reasons, especially for this mildly Type-A perfectionist. I firmly believe in all of the benefits of exercise and it is still a big part of my life, but the environment at the gym simply wasn’t good for me. For starters, I had body image issues. Hanging around people obsessed with calories burned, body fat percentage, and 6-pack abs was probably not helping the situation. I also had a distorted notion of success and productivity – the idea of non-doing or doing anything half-assed was simply ridiculous to me. The gym can be a healthy commitment for some people, an opportunity to practice sticking with a routine and working towards a goal. However, back then, my life was literally made up of commitments and goals and I never gave myself a break. Sure, I was pretty darn fit, but I felt trapped. I hung so tightly to the things I thought I HAD to do in order to be successful that I never let go and just had fun, never experienced the guiltless, blissful joy that makes you realize that life is more than grades, resumes, and the size of your jeans. For me, the gym was yet another outlet for self-criticism, unfavorable comparisons to others, and pushing beyond a healthy edge. So finally, at around age 27, after a whole-lotta personal reflection and growth, I broke up with the gym. Today, I have a stressful job that takes up a lot of my time. I have a house and a dog and bills and all of the responsibilities that come with being an adult. With so many things that I HAVE to do, why add one more DUTY to the list? I love to be active, to get my limbs moving and my heart rate up, but I like getting my exercise in ways that nurture not only my body, but my mind and soul as well--a long walk in the park, a yoga class, or a game of sand volleyball with friends. I look for activities, friendships, and environments that reinforce self-love, acceptance, joy, and remind me of what’s really important. You can do anything, but you can’t do everything…and there are so many things I would rather do than run on the treadmill day after day. Want to connect with Carolina? Check out her fabulous blog and/or follow her on Twitter, @doyogainheels. Image credit: Normanack on Flickr. Creative Commons License. 
 We've all been there and we all know the feeling: You arrive to a yoga class just a few minutes before it starts (or even late), walk into the room, mat in hand, and see that there's no spot for you. There could be, if people moved over a bit, but there's no mat-sized space available, just waiting for you to claim it. Sometimes there may be a space way up in the front, next to the teacher, but unless you're a regular front-of-the-room-yogi, you would never go there. So, you pick a space that's almost wide enough for a mat, and then politely ask the person next to you to scoot over a bit so that you can fit. Depending on their mood, you may get a very kind "of course!," or you may get a dirty look and a very small shift, with a sigh and lots of dramatic movements. You just never know what to expect. The other day, this happened to me at a studio here on the Cape. I asked my neighbor to move, not expecting a super smiley, warm reception (I'm in New England now, and have adjusted to the more reserved way of communicating here), but was surprised by a very talkative, very open, very southern-ish response from my neighbor. We began chatting it up, and our conversation ended up covering mat spacing, New England personalities, and the difference between social interactions in the South vs. the North. After our interaction, I spent a bit of the first part of the class (I know, I know...) thinking about all of the various places that I've lived, and how the cultural differences in these places can become apparent in yoga classes. As someone who spends most of my time in yoga studios, I think it's only natural that I pick up on the differences in this setting, and sometimes, I think that the yoga studio can be a microcosm of the place that surrounds it. So, I thought it would be fun to make a list of some of the differences that I've noticed in the four main places that I've lived and practiced, as shallow and silly as they might be... Thus, here are some of the cultural differences (that I've noticed) in yoga classes up & down the east coast: Mat placement...
Community chit chat...
Yoga clothing...
The way teachers talk/teach...
Reaction to touch/hands-on assists...
What do you think? Have anything to add? How does yoga differ on the West Coast? In the Midwest? Obviously these are gross generalizations, and there are many people who don't fit into these molds in every place, but I do find differences like these interesting and fun. Now, um, could you scoot over a bit so that I can fit my mat, my bolster, my blanket, my two blocks, my purse, and my gigantic water bottle into this tiny space between you and your neighbor? Kthankx. ;)  |
HELLO!I'm Mary Catherine, a Cape Cod-based yoga teacher, painter, designer, writer, mom, and list-maker extraordinaire. My goal is to inspire you to start living a more creative, simple, joyful, + purposeful life.
{Learn more + read my story} 
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DISCLOSURE
This blog is a personal blog written and edited by me. From time to time, I accept compensation for sponsored posts and campaigns. However, any sponsored content will be clearly identified as paid or sponsored. Even though I receive compensation for sponsored posts, I always give my honest opinions, findings, beliefs, or experiences on those topics or products. The views and opinions expressed on this blog are purely my own.
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I am also a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com.