The Before 50 LIst

I've started a list.  I'm calling it the Before 50 List.  It is pretty much what it sounds like, a list of things I hope to accomplish before I turn 50.

The idea for the list came to me one sunny summer afternoon when I was sitting beneath a tall oak on a green hillside overlooking the sea.  I'm not sure what specific thought triggered the idea for the list.  Perhaps it was my in the moment enjoyment of a perfect summer afternoon and wondering why I hadn't spent more afternoons doing just this or maybe it was watching the sailboats on the water and the return of a childhood desire to learn to sail or it might have been that I had started looking into graduate schools to attend after my expected completion of my BA in just about 18 months and the realization that if I could accomplish that goal that I might be able to accomplish others.

I reached for my phone and texted a friend, "I want to learn to sail.  I want to learn to sail and I want to buy a small boat and spend my summers exploring islands off the New England coast."

"Of course I may have to wait until I finish graduate school to buy the boat but  I could learn to sail next summer..."

And so the list was born.  I picked the age of 50 because it's a nice round number and because it is the first age milestone that kind of freaks me out a little.  Thoughts of mortality have always bobbed around on the surface of my thoughts but 50 brings it home.

What is on the list so far?

Before 50 List (in no particular order)

- Learn to sail

- Earn my BA

- Attend graduate school to earn my MFA

- Buy a sailboat (a small one)

- Live for a year (at least) in a small independent space, like a yurt

- Re-establish a committed creative practice

- Hike the "Hundred Mile Wilderness" (with friends)

That is the list as it stands right now.  It doesn't seem like too much considering I've eight and half years to accomplish all of them.  I expect to add a few things to the list over the next year and it is possible too that certain things could come off the list, but in any case there it is.

I'll be sure to keep you posted on my progress.

Behind the Scenes

Last night the troupe I manage and dance with had a performance.  As with any other show I'd spent time working on much of the behind the scenes stuff such as prepping the set list, making sure we had all the proper safety equipment in place for the fire performers, last minute social media promotion, checking in with everyone to see if they had questions, etc.  In addition, for a variety of reasons I chose to not put myself in the performance lineup for this particular show and instead just served as MC.

Before I move on with the post let me say that being the MC is something I like doing and for the the first few years that we did our street shows (which was what last night's show was) I never put myself in the lineup. Preparing for the show required a lot of my attention and I didn't often feel that I had time to prepare a solo performance in addition to everything else.  Also, the street is a bit of a chaotic venue and keeping an eye on the crowd, responding to last minute SNAFU's that crop up and just keeping track of all the performers in a space without a back stage requires focus - running the show is often all I feel capable of doing.  Finally, there is no dressing room on the street and I often find it difficult to switch between me as MC/ringmaster and me as solo dancer without a costume change.  So not being in the lineup was nothing new for me and in fact for these particular shows it was my preference for several years.

The show went very well and we drew a large crowd, my guess is 200 or so people. As with any live show there were a few bumps but all of the performers did their best; the band was lively and clear, the dancers beautiful and jingly, the comedy funny and the fire spinners bright and awe inspiring.  It was a solid show.  

After the final bow the audience began to disperse and as often happens people made their way to various performers to congratulate them and tell them what a wonderful job they did.  I stood in the middle of all of this, listening to the words of support and way-to-go's that everyone else was receiving.  It took a moment but I realized soon that no one was approaching me and I began to feel a little uncomfortable and a bit foolish.  I wanted to pout at everyone and say, "Hello.  Um...doesn't anyone know how much work went into making this happen?  Hey...you know who did that work?  ME!  Won't someone please come tell me what a good job I did? Um.....please? Please?"

I didn't of course and instead made my way across the square to my dad who told me I did a great job and what a wonderful show (thanks Dad).  After which I went for wings and a drink with a fellow cast member and then went home and crashed.  

Now contrary to what things might seem this post is not about me sulking over not getting enough kudos after a show (okay maybe a little but it isn't the main point).  This morning as I sat on my back porch drinking my coffee and scribbling in my journal about the prior evening it occurred to me that there isn't any reason why anyone on the audience would have any idea that I did anything other than just show up, announce the performers and go home. .  Really, how would any of them possibly know how much preparation each show takes or that I manage a troupe of 16 people? They wouldn't of course and for them the show wasn't me walking out and saying, "Ladies and Gentlemen I now introduce to you..."  It was the dancers, the music, the jugglers, the fire spinners, etc.  

And now to the real point of this post.  As I wrote those words in my journal I had the realization that this applies to so many of the people we encounter in our everyday lives.  We don't know what is going on behind the scenes with anyone really.  The people standing next to you at the bus stop, with their briefcases and shiny shoes might have had to spend ten minutes convincing themselves that today was worth getting out of bed for.  The guy who accidentally bumped you in his hurry down the sidewalk and didn't stop to apologize might be running to meet a lover who has returned after a long business trip.  The kid in his ripped jeans staring into space might be stoned out of his gourd or he might be composing poetry.  The super cheerful cashier behind the checkout counter might be thinking how it's been one year to the day since her last drink and she wonders if she will ever stop craving it.  

Whether it is someone we see every day or a stranger on the street, what we see for the most part is the outside; the show, the costume, the adopted facial expression.  We have no idea how much or how little effort it might take for that person to face each day.  We don't have a window into the troubles and joys that they may be carrying in their heart.  We don't know what keeps them awake at night or what happy thoughts might lull them into slumber.   

When I see a show that someone else has produced or directed, knowing the work it takes, I will often go out of my way to find that person to congratulate them on a job well done.  Now if I were to walk up to each person I encounter and say, "Congratulations on being alive and for making it through whatever it is that brought you to this moment today.  Good job!"  I'd likely either be thought of as anything from cutely weird to totally insane; I'd also have no time to do anything else.  However what I can do is keep in mind that just as so many in last night's audience had no idea what goes on behind the scenes of a show, I have little to no idea what is going on behind the scenes in the lives of others and perhaps by recognizing that behind that mask and costume is a person with their own unseen struggles, joys and burdens, I (all of the rest of you too) can become a more compassionate and understanding audience member in this grand show that is humanity.

And let me just say congratulations to each of you for making it to right now.  Whether you had to fight every step of the way or you danced down a path of daises I'm glad you made it here.  Good job!

Freedom

"I'm tired of working, working, working and not feeling like I'm getting ahead."

This was voiced to me by a friend last night in reference to a tight financial situation.  I could sympathize with the feeling and at the same time I thought to myself that if I was taking in the funds that he was taking in at his job I'd be able to live quite comfortably and I wouldn't be complaining so much.  At that point a little buzzer went off in my head.  It was joined by a bell, a gleaming white light bulb and a voice in my mind that said...

"Hey there little Miss Judgypants, wasn't so long a go that those words could have come from your mouth."

It was two years ago that I quit what would be considered a "good job" because I'd decided to go back to school and I wanted to make more time for my creative life.  I was miserable in the job and by the time I got home I had little to no energy to devote to creative pursuits.  I spent a lot of money on things like eating out, clothes, and Friday nights out.  I was making plenty of money but I was always broke.  

Since then I've managed to make a living by cobbling together two part time jobs, custom crochet commissions, the occasional performance gig and teaching.  Money is often very tight.  I make just enough most months to cover my expenses and there is rarely anything left over for extras like eating out, happy hour or travel.  I have not bought anything new other than the recent purchase of a much needed trash can.  "Use it up, wear it out, make do or do without," has become a bit of a mantra for living these past two years.

BUT...

I have found that while I may be poor in dollars I do have a lot of something else.  Freedom.  I am able to make my own schedule for the most part and so I am able to attend the classes I'd like to attend and not the ones I have to fit in around a regular 9:00 to 5:00 work schedule.  If it wasn't for this cobbled together life of mine the money I do make now from custom crochet orders would not be coming in at all because I would not have the time available to market myself or to actually work on them.  When I am feeling stressed out I am able to get up, walk out the door and head a few blocks down to the seaside for a wonderful change in perspective.  I can meet up with friends for a walk or a picnic lunch or take myself out for those things solo. I have time to write regularly and naps are a pleasure I able to indulge in regularly.

Yes, there are times that I will kept awake at night by the thought of how I may pay my bills or finding yet another creative way to cook rice and beans, but so far it has worked out and overall I am far happier today than I was two years ago. I hope that two years from now, or ten years from now, or anytime in the future when money may flow more freely into my life that I will remember this.

Taking Back the Pen: Rewriting Your Story

PsychologyToday.com is one of my favorite websites to visit.  I spend about a half hour each day browsing the various blogs and usually I find some little snippet that is helpful, interesting or just entertaining. Yesterday though I came across a post in Stuck by Anneli Rufus that really hit home for me.

Self Loathing: The Ultimate Prejudice begins with the line "we aren't born with low self-esteem."  This is a pretty obvious statement to me.  As babies we are blank slates with no experience in the world by which to judge ourselves or others.  She then shares her story which, as she explains, is also her mother's story.

"Hers is the only story I have ever told. In telling what I thought was my own story, I was always telling hers, because I loved her in her suffering and sought always to please her, and because she taught me fear and self-recrimination, taught me dedicatedly year upon year although she meant no harm, just as medieval coopers and barbers taught their apprentices: Do as I do and do it well and you are set for life." 

Story.  This is what resonated with me.  Humans are storytellers by nature, we have looked to stories to pass on life lessons, to explain the world around us, to entertain, and to escape daily life for thousands of years.  On a community level they give us a shared experience that brings us together.  We seek to emulate the heroes of these tales and use the villains as cautionary examples.  But what about our personal stories?  The ones that were penned in our brains as children and which we have been telling ourselves ever since.

As children a large part of this story is written by others: our parents, the media, our religion, or our social circle. The story can come from experiences both good (winning a race) or bad (sexual assault).  We use these personal stories, both positive and negative, in much the same way as our community does. We take from them our life lessons, use them to explain our world, and why we don't feel loved or worthy or good enough.  We write them down on the pages of our brain and repeat them to ourselves, over and over and over again through each stage of our lives.

"And thus children who might have become anything became coopers and barbers not for a year but forever, not because they wanted to but because when they were too young to helm their own fates, adults deemed it so."

Just to be clear, this isn't just another blame-it-on-our-parents-because-you-are-unhappy excuse.   If your story is not a positive one and if it did come from your parents chances are it was their story too and the only one they knew how to tell. And while you might harbor some resentment, or anger, or wish that you'd been given a different tale to tell the cliche of being unable to change the past and learning to let go of it is a true one.  It isn't easy but to cling to the past risks making one bitter and the story will never change.


Because now, no longer a child, as an adult you are the author of your story.  You can keep telling the same one.  The one that says you aren't worth it, or it's better to be invisible and unnoticed, or that you are ugly, or stupid, or that you will never make anything of yourself because you have no talent, or that sex will cure loneliness, or it's too late to become the person you want be.....

or you can pick up the pen, turn to a fresh page and begin to write a new chapter and write a new draft.  The story you wish to be yours can be and then you can can share it with the the world, your children, your friends and most importantly yourself over, and over again...

The Happier App

Today, via a friends post on Facebook, a new app called Happier.  It is a social media application where one only posts happy thoughts or more specifically the "happy moments you find in everyday life."

Now you all know that I tend to be cynical of the whole, think-happy-thoughts-and-happy-things-will-happen-all-the-time school of thought.  Happier does not seem to be about that, in fact the site actually tells you to stop trying to reach an idealized state of happy Nirvana, it is instead about recognizing the happy moments you have even on those "I want to hide under the covers everything is going wrong days."

If you visit the website and take a look at the featured moments they range from finding $10 in one's jeans pocket to having dinner with an old friend to watching sunsets while eating ice cream.  You can categorize your happy moments, add pictures to them, tag friends if they are members of the site and if you feel so inclined, smile and comment on other people's happy moments. 

Okay, I know this all sounds all rainbows and caramel popcorn; your gag meters are likely almost in the red zone so I'll explain just what it is I really like about this idea.

When I am feeling down in the dumps, which seems terribly often these days, I am not the type who is going remember to sit and count my blessings or make a gratitude list.  And generally when I do think to make one of these lists I start to feel worse because I can't help but compare my gratitude list to those things I think others have to be grateful for or I worry that I might not have enough on my list or I just don't see how what I've got to feel good about outweighs what I am feeling gloomy about.  

Happier isn't about looking back and taking an accounting of your happiness, it isn't about looking ahead to the things you want to achieve that might one day bring you joy.  No, what this app is about is right now and the happiness you are experiencing in this moment. Plus, when you have that moment, however big or small it may be, and you open the app to capture it you see your name and the happy moments you have listed recently.  Not a list of what everyone else is being happy about so you can't think, "Oh, my moment is so small...how can I possibly post about how awesomely crunchy my cereal was when Joe just got promoted and won the lottery." 

Nope, while you can choose to view what your friends happy moments, the app is really focused on you and what you have to be happy about right now.  You no longer have to worry about lists because you are making one as you go.  And unlike gratitude lists where sometimes you have to mentally stretch to find things you are grateful for, when you look back at your list you will know that in those moments you felt good enough, happy enough that you wanted to capture it.  

Finally I also like that it is easy.  My phone is generally always within reach so I don't need to go for a pen or paper just tappity, tappity, tap and it's noted.  I also like that the posts are happy moments, as though the creators want to remind us that all things are temporary.  The sad moments pass and the happy ones too, but it is all right now. 

**I should add no one paid, poke or prodded me to write this.  It was done 100% of my own free will.  

***You won't find me on Happier under Spinster Jane, I'm there under my own name, which a few of you know!

How to be Alone: Again...

Yes.  I've shared this video before but I've come to notice lately, due to a rare string of days spent by myself, that I am not as comfortable in my own skin as I'd like to be.  That I still spend a lot of time finding distractions like Facebook, the sudden need to sort the sock drawer or endless hours of Netflix, instead of allowing myself to be alone with my thoughts.

I explained to a friend recently how with all of this recent alone time I discovered that at some point in the past few years I'd become afraid of the dark.  I meant this in both the literal things-that-go-bump-in-the-night sense and in the metaphorical sense of facing my own shadows.   I am surprised, shocked a bit actually to find myself here.  I used to be a 3:00 AM insomnia wanderer, going for long walks in the night or sitting in the absolute darkness of a closed door closet when I wanted to quiet my mind.  I spent a lot of time facing my own demons, doing "the work" as they say...

And now I find myself here, jumping at every mental creak of the floor boards, waiting for my subconscious to jump up and shout, "Boo!"

So here it is again, "How to be Alone" by Andrea Dorfman

Struggle through...

I am feeling the pressure of time; of too much to do and too many deadlines; of summer ending and my days becoming once again filled with classes and homework.  Despite this I did get myself out of bed and off for a walk by 8:00 AM.

I wish I could say that the walk felt good.  That somewhere along the foggy route I began to feel invigorated in mind and body.  This however was not the case.  I was tired, probably slightly dehydrated, and every step felt like I'd had to talk myself into taking the next one.  It was slow going with every hill turning into a mountain and every bench I passed calling my name.  A three mile route that I'd usually average about a half hour to complete took me 45 minutes.

In fact the only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that I had walked this route before.  I knew it would eventually be over and so I pushed on.  And truthfully it wasn't entirely unpleasant.  Today's fog gave the ocean a mysterious quality with the sounds of gull wings, waves, boat rigging and fog horns floating out of the white void.  As always there was lots of bird song to be heard and plenty of flowers blooming in the damp.  But when I arrived home I was more happy that it was over than I was about having done it.

Sitting here now showered and caffeinated I do feel a small sense of satisfaction at having managed to do it even if it was a struggle.  I'm sure there is a lesson in that but I'm also quite sure there is a lesson to be learned in my next cup of coffee...