you missed it...

Am I too old for anyone to even care

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 07 Jan 2025 13:58:00 +0000

Sit down and write something once a week

How hard is that? But then the brain overwhelms itself, or me rather

Mom? Dad? Lost friends? Lost time?

Strength training to mitigate perimenopause only to over do it like everything else and end up sad and in pain

It’s the bills, the kids, the appointments, the classes, the meetings, the dogs, the dog park

It’s the weather and the hormones and the color of the sky and nothing feels right - or familiar - or mine - or me

Where am I? How did we get HERE - and why aren’t you here dad? Mom? How could you leave me here ALONE here

Like a lost kid in a clothing store unable to see over the clothing racks, searching for safety for home for anything familiar and grounding

Death feels familiar and I hate that

And when will the dog next door stop barking

When will the kids stop fighting

When will I be able to just…breathe

And be alive without feeling the marching feet of time

Time that goes to quickly, I always worried it would, and it has and it will
And one day, will be the last day

And what then

Who will water the plants, feed the dogs, take out the trash or do the laundry

Does any of it matter? Did any of it ever matter?

I miss you. I miss the dysfunction. I miss there being the chance to change, to make it better - because we didn’t, did we?

And now nothing is better and nothing is fine, but I hold that, it’s not your pain anymore, it’s mine

If you could read my mind, why didn’t you

Why was it saved for the last spark - the spark that time put out before I could even enjoy the light

And it’s ranting and raving, and internal fucking chaos and maybe that’s what you wanted

Maybe not

But it’s what you left me with to carry on

To do the dishes and pack the lunches and have the playdates and bed time and shouting and tears and anger

Anger that I don’t want to pass on but it feels impossible because I already see it in her eyes, the disappointment that’s been brewing since the world shut down

Or maybe before

Maybe I never could be more

Today, I Just Can't

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Fri, 24 Apr 2020 19:02:00 +0000

How to stay calm during a pandemic. Teach your toddler Spanish. Today’s COVID-19 death count increases. Get an hour of exercise every day. Have Zoom classes with your kids. Dead nursing home residents found in shed on property. How to find work / life balance. Lockdown recipes for full bellies. COVID-19 could cause more than 26 million hospitalizations. How to stay productive working from home. The lessons you should be teaching your kids. Don’t worry about screen times during quarantine. States decide whether or not to reopen. Moral fatigue. News fatigue. Pandemic fatigue. Social distancing. Physical distancing. Masks. Gloves. Peak.

I am hitting a wall. Somewhere between having to tell my daughter at least seven times a day I can’t play “Princesses” because I have to get some work done and realizing I haven’t actually showered in two days, things are starting feel heavier. It’s nothing at all and it’s everything at once. It’s guilt and frustration and worry and exhaustion and we carry on. Except we don’t know how long we have to go on like this or what life will look like on the other side?

Will we come out a single-income family? When will school start and what does that look like? Is my daughter going to resent me for having to work while she is home? And what about all the art projects I talk about with her but can never seem to find the time to actually do? Am I modeling a strong mother who works or am I creating a daughter that feels less important than she should? When is there a break? When it did all bubble up so much that I feel like the next little thing is going to be the thing that makes me crack? And why is whether or not you should drink bleach even a fucking news headline?

I am hitting a wall.

What is life trying to teach me?

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Fri, 24 Apr 2020 17:44:00 +0000

I lost my mother 14 months ago. It was a tenuous relationship at best, but the sense of loss, anger, and regret were no less real. When I first called my CEO to tell him I had to make a last-minute trip to say goodbye to her, one of the many supportive things he said to me that day has stuck with me — what is life trying to teach you right now?

I played that over and over in my head in the coming hours, days, and months. I find myself applying it to pretty much everything now. When my dog first developed epilepsy the night before I went into the hospital to have my second child — what was life trying to teach me then? There were a lot of answers for both of those situations and plenty more for everything else I apply it to. We can learn a lot about ourselves while trying to answer this question, and sometimes even find a little peace.

And now, with this pandemic, I find myself coming back to this question again. There are, of course, the bigger-than-us lessons of what we can learn as a community, a nation, and as a connected-by-travel planet as a whole. But for most of us, we aren’t the ones who will be finding those answers. We can, however, find answers for ourselves.

What is life trying to teach you right now? You juggling the kids being home, feeding everyone, cleaning, managing online and homeschooling, all while still working a full-time job. You crying in the bathroom because you just. need. a. minute. You who just got furloughed because your employer has no idea when they will open again, and you, the small business owner wondering if you will be able to open again. You feeling so desperately alone and wondering when all of this will end so we can see what kind of life we will all have when we come out of the other side. You waiting by the phone for an update because your mother is in the hospital and you can’t be with her. For many of us, more than one of these situations apply right now. I know that’s true for me.

And they’re all painful, confusing, frustrating, anxiety-laden situations. So do I wonder, what I am supposed to be learning right now? I do.

Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Yoga

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Thu, 05 Nov 2015 14:33:00 +0000

I recently spent two days with a Rapid Resolution Therapist. The idea is within one or two sessions, the therapy will eliminate emotional pain and destructive behavioral patterns and completely resolve the psychological and physiological effects of trauma (per the website). It’s said to help with PTSD, anxiety and depression. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen a friend go through it and come out completely re-energized. So, after muddling through recent anxiety issues, I decided to give it a whirl.

The process is powerful. I had my reservations, but it was definitely an experience worth having, and hopefully, ultimately, life changing. But something I realized is that so much of self-improvement, therapy, growing and healing—and yoga—are based on similar concepts. Here are a few. (And I won’t even charge you $150 an hour. You’re welcome.)

Breathe. Simple right? Not always. When you’re stressed or sad or angry, the last thing you’re focused on is your breath and it’s the one thing that you should be focused on because it may be the only thing in that moment that can help calm you.

Be present. Most stress, sadness, worry and/or depression are caused by our minds fixating on the past or the future. Animals don’t have this ability. They live in the present moment and don’t need therapy. So maybe we need to just all listen to Ram Das and “be here now”.

Be flexible. This is important in both your body and your mind. Working on physical flexibility can help your overall health. Being flexible in your mind can help you bend with your ever-changing life situations. What doesn’t bend breaks, after all, right?

Focus. Where your mind goes, your life follows. Imagine you’re standing in tree pose. If you’re thinking about the 20 things you still have to do today, the argument you had with your boyfriend yesterday, or a big presentation coming up, chances are, you’re going to lose balance. But when you rein it in, set a focal point, it’s easier to maintain composure—as in life. If you think things will go badly and don’t believe in yourself, odds are, that’s what you will materialize. But if you can change your mind, think positive and set intentions, you may just find the universe will respond and work with you.

You are not the body. You are not the mind. There’s a light inside each one of us that no one can touch without your permission. It may get clouded with stress, anxiety, depression, fear, anger, what-have-you, but that light is always there, shining. Yoga, meditation, therapy—they help clean the lens that you look at life so you can re-center and reconnect with the light inside you.

It’s okay to fall. It’s how you learn. Yoga isn’t easy. Life isn’t easy. Sometimes getting out of bed isn’t easy. But it’s the falling, the struggles, the good times (and the bad), that make us exactly who we are in this moment.

And we are wonderful.

The Importance of Listening to Your Gut: A Letter to College Graduates

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Thu, 19 Mar 2015 03:30:00 +0000

There’s plenty of research that shows your mind and your body, specifically your gut, are connected. Think about it: if you’re stressed about a class, a breakup, graduation or an exam, where do you feel it? Your gut; and believe me, it knows more than you might think. That’s why it’s so important as you move through college, into the “real world” and through life, to listen to what your gut may be telling you.

First, let me clarify that what I’m talking about is different than following your passion. Maybe you read Mike Rowe’s thoughts on the topic. I, personally, believe that you should follow your dreams, but to also have the wherewithal to adjust as necessary. If you want to be a singer but at the end of the day you are just completely tone deaf, find a career somewhere else in the music industry. No matter what you choose to do in life, make sure it feels right—and that is what I am talking about.

Passion and doing what you feel is right for you, aren’t always the same thing. Sometimes your passion and path align, but that’s not always the case. For example, you may have a passion for art but really want to work in finance. And that’s awesome. Whatever your reasons are for choosing your path, as long as it sits well with you, go for it! Also know that what feels right for you will likely change as your life changes and it’s important to be aware of that as well.

Following your gut means getting in touch with your intuition. If you can learn to listen, it will help you make better, healthier choices throughout your entire life. If it feels wrong, it probably is. The clues may be subtler than the feeling that you’d get from walking into a dark alley alone at night, but once you learn how to listen, you will notice the subtleties. And once you learn to listen, you have to learn to trust it.

It’s when you don’t listen to that voice inside you that can may start making decisions simply because it seems like the right thing to do, because someone else said you should, or a host of other external pressures. Life is too short to be unhappy. Given the statistic that in the United States, 85.8 percent of males and 66.5 percent of females work more than 40 hours per week, if your gut is telling you that you’re not in the right place, that’s a lot of time to be unhappy or dislike what you’re doing. (Plus, being unhappy for prolonged periods of time can cause your body significant damage, but that’s another story.)

Realizing you may not be in the right situation doesn’t mean that you should make sudden changes or throw in the towel. Become aware, acknowledge your feelings and create a plan. It’s still not the best economy, so you’ll need to make smart choices, but if something isn’t working for you, have a plan to move on. Make things happen.

How do you start? It can be as easy as—just start paying attention. But in times of stress, which is often the case as you move through college and have to start making big decisions and go through major life changes, it can be hard to hear your inner voice through all the noise the world is throwing at you. So, here are some tips that can help you go inside yourself and listen.

Meditate. There are so many benefits to meditation: reducing stress, improving memory, lowering your blood pressure…the list goes on and on. But it’s also a great tool to learn how to listen to yourself and quiet the noise of life.
Journal. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our thoughts, we don’t even realize how clouded our thinking has become. Make journaling a regular practice if you can, but definitely try to get your thoughts out in times of sadness, stress or anxiety. It can help you process what you’re feeling, discover patterns and maybe even discover some things about yourself you didn’t know were lurking around in that brain of yours.
Find your happy place. Running used to be a great anxiety and stress reliever for me. Now it’s yoga. Find an outlet for yourself and turn to it. Allow yourself to clear your mind in whatever (healthy) way works for you.

Following your gut is about knowing when to take advantage of opportunities, knowing when to move on or let go, knowing when to take chances and sometimes even just knowing when you give yourself a time out to think. Tune in and learn how different choices, emotions and environments feel. Give yourself to make mistakes and discover what the feels like too. Learn with each step forward and each step back; there will be plenty of both on your journey. Above all, trust yourself.

LGA to ORD: A Meditation on Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 17 Feb 2015 21:59:00 +0000

One of the biggest challenges in coming back from India is trying to figure out how to hold on to the peace, the love and the light that I found within myself there. How do I maintain this in day-to-day life? How do I continue to find compassion for people when they are rude, inconsiderate and grating? Case in point.

I flew from LaGuardia airport this morning to Chicago's O'Hare. It was another snowy morning, so I expected delays, especially since it's LaGuardia, the bus stop of airports. As is common in the winter, especially in the snow, the plane needed to be de-iced. This, after boarding maybe 35 minutes late. In the grand scheme of things, not a huge deal. And I, for one, am a fan of de-icing the plane. It's this wonderful task that keeps us from not plummeting to our deaths from up in the sky, or from perhaps crashing during takeoff. (I'm not really sure at which point ice effs up your world on a plane, I just know that it does, and therefore, I'd prefer to not have any on my steel tube of flying magic.) Take as long as you need good de-icing sirs, please and thank you.

We were further delayed because the runway needed to be salted. Again, another standard winter safety precaution to keep us from sliding into the icy East River instead of ascending safely into the morning sky. So, you too salt trucks, take as long as you need.

Unfortunately, the family of four in the row behind me didn't feel the same way. They were angry that we were delayed, angry that they took time to de-ice the plane, angry that they were salting the runway. "But all of the Southwest planes have left! Why are we still here? This is ridiculous! This airline is terrible!" Followed by sighs, rants of agreement from his two daughters and his wife. The rants were accompanied by the daughter doing god knows what to my seat—playing patty cake perhaps—all before take off.

I'm pretty sensitive to the energy around me. But pretty much anyone within a ten row radius of this overly aggravated man was likely affected by his vitriol. I could have easily mustered the New Jersey rage inside me and yelled, "Hey fucktard, would you rather your family plummet to their deaths because the plane was not properly de-iced? Were those 20 minutes so important to you that you'd throw safety to the wind?"

I didn't so that, obviously (or maybe not obviously if you've seen me on my bad days). But even thinking of saying those things is a huge disruption of my internal stillness. It's irritation, it's judgement and it's certainly a lack of compassion. So I ask again, how do I hold on to the light and the love I felt for everyone when I was in India? We asked that same question while we were still over there. How do we take what we are learning and how we are feeling back home with us; back home to the tri-state area of all places, land of rage, land of short tempers, land of ruthlessness?

How do we love when it's easier to hate? How do we stay open when it's quieter, and at times certainly easier, to shut down? How do we find grace and patience when the world is constantly in your face?

I certainly do not have all the answers. So I try to breathe. I try to meditate. I try to remember that feeling of pure love that's deep down inside, that's always accessible if I can just tap into it. I practice. I stay connected to the people who inspire me and understand me and who can guide me—because we're all in this crazy ride together, airplane or otherwise. So let's just get there happily and in one peace, shall we?

India: Spanning the Human Emotions

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Sun, 15 Feb 2015 22:32:00 +0000

During my two weeks in India on a journey of self-discovery, I felt like I must have gone through every possible emotion. Which got me wondering, if I did, in fact, go through the entire spectrum of human emotion. I asked a therapist friend if there was a standard list of human emotions, but she never answered. So, I did what anyone would do, I asked Google. I found a few websites that listed the below as the rainbow of human emotions…therefore it must be true, right? Either way seems like a good place to start.

Here’s my [long] alphabetical journey through emotional highs, lows and everything in between from Mumbai to Udaipur to Vrindavan.

Acceptance: A lot of this trip (as I’ll mention throughout) was spent working through the loss of Grams and what death really means. There was a lot of searching. There still is a lot of searching. There may always be a lot of searching. But for a moment, in Vrindavan, I accepted what was.

Vrindavan was the last of our stops. They say that if you hug a tree there, whatever you wish for will come true. So after two weeks of praying, hoping and grieving for things surrounding Grams, I hugged a tree and wished more than anything that I could know if she’s okay. A voice inside me said, “You can never know that.” And in that moment, I knew deep down that this was the truth, I accepted it and was at peace with it.

Affection: This one was instant. As soon as I met my fellow travelers, I loved them. I met the first two ladies in JFK, and because of them, I had buddies to spend the night with in Dubai. By the third day of the trip, I felt like I had known these people forever. Each and every one of them will always hold a special place in my heart.

Aggression: Okay, so maybe I didn’t cover each of the emotions, but I think in this case, that’s a good thing.

Ambivalence: There were honestly a couple of times I could have gone either way on visiting another temple. But in the end, I was always happy with the excursions and all that they offered.

Apathy: There were one or two mornings when, exhausted from travel, I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to practice yoga or sit through satsang. Luckily, more often than not, this was not the case.

Anxiety: Right before I left for India, my boyfriend was reading an article about airlines that don’t meet FAA regulations, making them (obviously) airlines you’d want to avoid. Air India was at the top of the list. So flying from Mumbai to Udaipur on an Air India jet was not the most fun two hours for me.

Boredom: Our long bus rides were pretty fun. We talked, we sang, we had satsang. But after several days of long bus rides, the long stretches could get a little boring. Much like apathy, luckily, more often than not, this was not the case.

Compassion: Compassion was another one of those feelings that pretty much was a constant throughout the trip. I felt compassion for any of the struggles anyone in our group was going through. I felt compassion for the poor children who begged us for rupies. I felt compassion for all of the puppies whose ribs were showing through their fur. I felt compassion for my sick roommate. I felt compassion for all of the children who don’t have enough to eat. When you’re practicing bhakti and putting others first, compassion is something that is just part of the territory.

Confusion: There was generally always some level of confusion. Where are we going? What did he say? What day is it? Is Vishnu eternal or not eternal? Where did I put my sunglasses? Can I drink that? Can I eat that? Is that really a bathroom?

Contempt: Much like aggression, this isn’t something I came across in my two weeks in India.

Depression: I don’t take the word depression lightly. So, I’ll say there were moments of sadness. Wait, is sadness on the list? Nope, okay, so I can leave it here. I was definitely sad on the morning on January 30^th, remembering that two years ago that day I watched Grams pass from this world. I was sad seeing my new friends cry as they opened their hearts to the group. But the saddest I was during the trip was when I had to say my goodbyes. These people became my family for two weeks and somehow, even though there was an end date, I didn’t feel like it would ever really end. I know that most of the people I’ll keep in touch with, so in that sense, it never will end. But disbanding our little traveling group of bhaktis was sad to see.

Doubt: Looking back, there was more doubt than I realized. Part of me thought I would find God on this trip. Seeing how devoted people are to their deities, temples, traditions and beliefs was awe-inspiring. It made me wonder if I have that in me. Have I not found which version of God speaks to me, or will I not be able to find God? Do I believe in it, but just have a hard time giving it a name?

It’s said that Vrindavan, one of the holy cities in India, has to let you in. Being there, I wondered if I should be. Was I worthy? Did I deserve to be there? Was this strange feeling I had in my chest the town trying to push me out?

I also doubted if I could ever be a could teacher; if I could memorize Sanskrit; if I could be as good of a friend to the people I met there as they were to me. But I think the thing about doubt is, if you can look at it head on, it makes you dig deeper, try harder and explore more.

Empathy: Everyone I met had their own stories and their own struggles. I felt for each and every one of them.

Envy: This is not something I should have felt on the trip, and I don’t even know that I’d go so far as to say I felt envy, but there were moments when I wished I had been able to dress better like others, or had the grace of others, or had the skill of others. But the good thing, I think, is that all of those moments were constructive. Seeing qualities in others that I liked, made me want to be a better version of myself, be more dedicated to my practice, more patient, more well-rounded. Life is all about growing and learning, right?

Embarrassment: I guess I really didn’t encounter this one either, but one instance that came close was when I used a shower as a bathroom on the side of the road because I thought it was just a really bad toilet system.

Ecstasy/Euphoria: It was our second day at Govardhan Eco Village. It was also the second anniversary of Grandma’s passing. I had dedicated the day to her. The still-in-progress yoga room is nestled at the bottom of the mountains and is lined with windows, so I could watch the sun rise over the mountains during the morning practice.

As the sun began to rise, I was the most present I had been in a long time. I breathed in, taking in that I was in India and that, at the moment, all was right in my life. Grams had led me on this journey, to that place, and I was surrounded by nothing but good energy and love. And it became completely overwhelming. I likened to it the same feeling you get if you’ve ever taken ecstasy; that moment when you feel every cell in your body light up, come alive and become bathed in love and happiness. I looked at my surroundings, my new friends and I cried tears of absolute pure joy.

Forgiveness: Part of the trip was learning to say you’re sorry when you should and to ask for forgiveness. So, more than me coming to any sort of epiphany on the trip about something I should forgive, I focused on my actions towards others. And took steps to apologize for things that I shouldn’t have done, or even impressions I may have given.

Frustration: Sure there are things you can get frustrated about in India. But you have to learn to roll with it. I distinctly remember being frustrated on two occasions. I’m sure there were more, it is me, after all, but here are a couple. One was ending up in a department store in Mumbai trying to find clothes for the flower festival. Just leaving a few days on a farm and being planted in a busy city shopping in a department store playing American music was a quick way to kill the pilgrimage vibe. Especially after trying several things on and none of them fitting and local women cutting me in line for the fitting room. But my friends came to the rescue, found something my size and saved the day.

A second moment was at the end of the beautiful flower festival. The flower festival was unlike anything I have ever been to. It was filled with love, fun and the excitement of being a child playing in the fall leaves. Towards the end, though, I started to feel like I was at a rock show and was getting tossed around and pushed out of the way so that a few people could take pictures or snap a selfie. All that is fine, but there could have been a bit more “excuse me’s” and less pushing. But hey, things can get a little chaotic when you’re playing in several tons of flower petals.

Gratitude: Every moment of this trip was filled with gratitude. I was so grateful for the opportunity to take this trip that it spilled over into everything else. I was grateful for literally every one I met, from my fellow travelers to the Hare Krishnas to the children to the bus drivers. I was grateful for the food. I was grateful for hot water and drinking water. I was grateful for my friends back home who supported me and encouraged me to take the trip. I was grateful for the cows that carried us dinner. I was grateful for rooftop yoga, sunrises and moonrises. I’m grateful I got to see how happy Eryk was at the flower festival, that I got to hear Jo sing on the bus one last time, that I got to take a class led by Linda. Just…everything.

Grief: I discovered mid-journey that I’m still very much dealing with the loss of Grams— that I’m still looking for her, for a way to connect with her. So there were some definitely moments of grief. We had a ceremony on Lake Pushkar in which I tried to reach out to her, with grief weighing heavy on my heart.

Guilt: As part of the “forgiveness” practice, I identified moments in which I could have maybe been a better friend, a better daughter, a better girlfriend. Those moments carry guilt with them, which is exactly why we seek forgiveness.

Hatred: Not an ounce of this existed in my world.

Hope: Two of the big question marks in my life are, where am I going to work and where am I going to live? Getting some 8,000 miles of distance allowed me to get a lot of clarity on where I see myself ending up. And with that clarity brought hope.

Horror: Okay, this wasn’t horror, but it’s the closest on the list to “invasion of personal space.” In India, if you’re not Indian, you’re going to stand out. That we did. Everywhere we went people wanted to take pictures with us, which was strange, but mostly fine. We were, after all, taking pictures of them, so it seemed fair. But one day, a man asked to take a picture with me and at the last moment grabbed my waist, pulled me in close and pressed his cheek against mine for the photo. Aside from just generally being inappropriate, I’ve had issues with personal space in the past and this quickly brought that need for a protective bubble back. It lingered with me for a few days, which bothered me, and even made me feel a little naïve for not knowing better or saying no or waiting for someone else to be around. So going forward, I politely declined all requests for photos.

Hostility: Another big negative emotion that didn’t exist during my two weeks in India.

Homesickness: Going into the trip, one of my biggest fears was that I’d get there and feel homesick. I never did. I missed being able to use tap water or go to a bathroom and know that there would be toilet paper, but those were minor things that I quickly became used to and adjusted for.

Hunger: I didn’t realize hunger was an emotion. But this list says it is; so it shall be. I ate a lot in India. Like, a lot. I think it was part excitement, part the food being so amazing and part completely vegetarian diet leaving me wanting food every few hours. I was never hungry, but I always felt, “Hey, I could eat.”

Hysteria: Probably the closest I came to hysteria was when I got to JFK to leave for the trip. I had been nervous about going to India for weeks. But there I was, leaving a day early to try to beat a blizzard, alone, about to embark on the biggest trip of my life and was pretty much freaking out. Plus I hate flying. And I really hate flying in bad weather. As I sat on a bench just past security watching the weather grow increasingly worse, I cried my eyes out trying to wrap my head around what I was about to embark on. It reminded me of the time my dad dropped me off at Girl Scouts and at the last minute I didn’t want to go, so I stood in the doorway crying my eyes out, yelling for him to come back and get me, but it was too late, he didn’t hear me and there I was stuck. So, there I was, stuck at JFK, trying to find the strength to collect myself and make myself get on that airplane. Thank you to my two angels Jen and Laura who, without, I’m not sure I could have gotten on that plane.

Interest: This was constant. Being surrounded by so many new people, new settings, new colors, new smells, new sounds, new animals, new traffic patterns, new religions…how could you not spend even one moment being interested in what’s around you.

Loneliness: I spent 16 days surrounded by people. My dad and my brother picked me up from the airport after the trip and brought me home. Boyfriend was away for work, which I thought would be a good opportunity for me to take a couple of days to decompress and process the trip. But when my dad shut my front door behind him and the quiet set in, I realized, for the first time in weeks, I was completely alone. And boy, did I not like it.

Love: Just like interest, compassion, and gratitude, love is something that I was constantly feeling and always surrounded by. How many people can say that they’ve had that for even a few days—constant love and support? I was blessed enough to have it for 16 days.

Paranoia: Who knows what kind of creatures live in India. My first few days were spent at the Eco Village. After our first night, Linda told a story about an encounter with a hissing creature of some sort that she had to free from her garbage can in the middle of the night. So there was always a question as to what would be waiting for us in our rooms. The last night there, I was awaken but a buzzing that came super close to my ear causing me to sit up in a panic thinking some sort of flying whatnot was about to try to eat my face. Turning on the light, I couldn’t see anything, so I thought maybe it was a dream and laid back down. But the buzzing came back. With the lights back on, I still didn’t see anything. So I laid down again. Then I thought maybe it was coming from outside. Then I remembered the movie “Brokedown Palace” and thought maybe the bug was in my ear. After confirming for myself I didn’t have a bug in my ear, I gave up and accepted that I was just awake now at 3 a.m. Eventually I saw the bug. It was a tiny gnat. Then I was just impressed that the tiny little guy could make so much noise.

Pity: See compassion.

Pleasure: There were so many things on this trip that caused me pleasure, lots of big life-changing things and lots of little things. So let me share one of the smaller, non-living changing things. Towards the end of the trip after eating nothing but India food (which was delicious) for nearly two weeks, we had a chance to order Mexican, Italian, or American food. All that is just fine, but what gave me immense pleasure at that meal was the dessert. I had chocolate pie that night and it made me very, very, happy.

Pride: I had a moment of pride when after telling myself, “I WILL learn these Sanskrit versions,” I finally memorized two of them.

Rage: Not on this trip. Though definitely on my Turks & Caicos trip.

Regret: Yet another negative emotion I didn’t really come across. Hooray for not having negative emotions!

Remorse: I touched base with home when I could while I was away. One of the last days my boyfriend informed me that his boss put “No Parking” stickers on my windshield when he brought my car to work with him and that while he got the sticker off a lot of glue remained. I got off the phone, told the story to my lovely roommate and ended with, “Ugh I hate people.” To which she said, “Aw, come on now.” And she was right. I regretted letting the words escape my mouth, because it’s not true. It was a moment of frustration for something I’d have to deal with when I got home and nothing more.

Shame: We were surrounded by so much love and support for two weeks, there wasn’t room for the type of behavior that would cause me to feel shame.

Suffering: The only suffering I endured was at the airport in JFK. The self-imposed suffering for letting my mind run a muck. But so much suffering is caused by the mind, isn’t it?

Sympathy: see compassion.

Today's Good, Bad and Uncouth

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Thu, 22 Jan 2015 22:48:00 +0000

I'm leaving for India Tuesday and I'm fairly anxious about it. I've been fairly anxious about it for awhile. I'm also excited. But I'm a planner and there a lot of unknowns right now. Unknowns and long flights. Am I packing the right things, have I packed enough things, can I get a roll of toilet paper in my bag, will I need the Cipro the doctor gave me for "digestive issues" and also, will there even be toilets? Sorry, I like a toilet. I've experienced bathroom situations all over the world, so while I don't expect a toilet, it'd certainly be nice.

Anyway, my point being, I've been a bit preoccupied and I'm leaving for India on Tuesday. I ran out to CVS today during work because I had the brainstorm of, "Hey, I should be granola bars to India!" They had a bulk pack, I had a $10 coupon...all-in-all, good trip to CVS. Then I strolled over to Rejuice-a-nation to get some soup. Soup and granola in hand, I walked back to the office.

I get upstairs, put down my stuff, exclaim how happy I am about the free granola when I realize...my wallet is gone. Fuck. I take a moment and realize that I know I've been stressing and I'm probably just being a spaz and it's likely right in my hand. But it wasn't. It also wasn't in the CVS bag, the soup bag or my pockets, despite me checking them over and over. So I did what anyone would do. I yelled, "FUCK!" and ran outside to retrace my steps.

I had only traveled two blocks, so I didn't have far to go. But there was nothing. Back in the juice shop they told me I hadn't left it there, but the owner awesomely offered to review the security footage and tell me what I did with it. Strangely (and here's where I need to start paying attention to my intuition), my mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out how I could cancel all of my cards and get new cards by Monday since I am leaving the country for two weeks, but I didn't have that sense of panic in my chest. So I paused, took a breath, and thought, "Well maybe it is going to be ok. Maybe this is the universe telling me to just chill out and I will find it."

But as usual, the brain took over. After several minutes of waiting for the owner to come out, I left my number and proceeded to pace back and forth on the sidewalk. I even called the office to have THEM check the CVS bag in case I overlooked it. Sadly, no. The juice shop owner called and said I put it in my right pocket and then left. I checked my pocket again and then laughed at myself for doing so. I sighed and walked to the police station planning the order of my card-cancelling phone calls. I walked in, told the officer I lost my wallet and like a tiny miracle, he told me someone had just brought in a wallet and that it may be mine.

And it was. I wanted to cry I was so happy. I wouldn't have to make frantic phone calls. I wouldn't have to cancel my appointment with my wonderful massage therapist. I wouldn't have to try to figure out how to access my money. The officer says to me, "I just have to verify your identity. I mean, it looks like you on your license. But you look A LOT younger in the picture."

I realized after he had left the window I had just been called old looking. Or at least not-as-young-as-your-license looking. Whatever. The other woman at the station also noticed his comment and then told me she was called a cunt earlier in the day when trying to park. Lovely.

But, my license was there and that was awesome. I didn't even care if my cash was gone. Well, I mean, I did CARE, but it was a minor point. But then, when I was handed back my wallet, it was 100% intact. I thanked the sky a hundred times on the walk back to the office. And thank YOU kind stranger who returned my wallet, didn't take anything and saved the day.

The Things I Get Myself Into: A Tale from 30,000 Feet

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 06 Jan 2015 04:23:00 +0000

This morning I was flying to San Francisco for work on a project. I woke up at 4:45 a.m., not from my alarm clock, but from nerves. I had to be out of the door by 5:30 a.m. anyway, but oh how anxious I get when I have to fly. I get to the airport, make it to my gate with twenty minutes to spare, pop a Xanax and get on the plane.

The plan was to sleep for as much of the flight as possible to compensate for the long hours ahead with a nice layer of jet lag. I made it halfway. Despite my best efforts to go back to sleep, I was awake. "Ok," I thought, "let me dig into my email and see what I can start working on."

I pull out my laptop and it's covered in...well, goo. Exhausted and sedated for the flight, I'm just utterly confused. But to be fair, if the same thing had occurred at home I'd be just as confused. I smell my hand, which is also covered in goo to find a teriyaki-ish, somewhat sour, something's-definitely-wrong-here kind of smell. That couldn't be good.

Lucky for this particular situation, I had been sick for a small eternity so I had a lot tissues in my pocket. I began wiping down the laptop wondering what the hell was going on. Once I got the laptop all squared away, I stuck my hand in the computer pouch and encountered more goo. I try to find some sort of explanation.

The bag had been sitting near the garbage for a week since I had been off. Maybe, somehow, some thai got dumped in it on the way to the garbage. Which would suck. Really, any answer here would suck, because there was some sort of rank goo in my bag. I clean up what I thought, well hoped, was all of it, but figured I'd best make sure. As I shoved my hand into the bottom of the computer pouch, I encountered a handful of the rancid smelling goo. What. The. Fuck. What was possibly going to be in my hand when I pulled it out. And then what? What am I supposed to do with this from an airplane, in a window seat, in the dark. (For whatever reason, not one person on this flight opened their window shade. So the entire flight was lit by some weird 90's pink neon lights, which I guess Virgin finds posh.)

I grab the plastic case my tissues were in (you know those little travel plastic wrappers) and proceed to pull out a handful of awfulness to put in my tiny makeshift garbage bag. And that's when the goo revealed itself. A completely disintegrated banana. It must have been sitting there since the last time I worked, which was exactly a week ago, and the fruit was in questionable shape then.

I now have a travel tissue pack full of rancid banana and I'm still stuck in my seat because now the seatbelt light is on and some really decent turbulence is starting. Ah, but wait! My one quart bag! I dumped out all of my liquids containers into the middle section of the backpack, and put the mess in the quart bag and sealed it. (Clearly, not checking my bag was the correct choice this morning.)

Now I have a quart bag full of rancid banana, a backpack that smells like week old garbage and sticky, smelly banana hands. Luckily a stewardess was walking by so I handed her the mess and was later able to get a plastic bag to wrap my computer in. Upon examination in the airport bathroom, I found had removed all the goo and only the smell remained. Small victory. The morning was redeemed, however, when I stopped to get a double double from In 'N Out burger on my way to the hotel.

So the moral of the story? When life gives you rancid bananas, go get In 'N Out. Or maybe it's something like, don't check your bags when traveling, you never know when you'll need a one quart plastic bag. Or perhaps I just need to remember to check my bag for fruit at the end of each day.

2014: A Quick Look Back

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 23:59:00 +0000

It's New Year's Eve and like everyone else, I'm thinking about the year behind me, the year ahead of me and the person I am right now. So where have I been, where I am going and what have I learned?

January 2014 marked one year since we lost Grams. I learned that with that kind of loss, life is never quite the same. We live with memories that conjure up smiles and laughs but also an ache that will never go away, one that I'm learning to live with. Now that we're coming up on almost two years since she left, I can hardly believe it's been that long. But, I realize each day how much of her is a part of me and how strong I am because of her.

February, the month of love, I fell more for Rich and happier every day that he is in my life...though March took him away for three months (#englandstolemyboyfriend). During those three months, with yoga teacher training nearing its end, I found I had become part of a small family I am eternally grateful for. All that I've learned from my months of training and through my friendships with those eight people is irreplaceable. Not sure what I would have done without them.

April brought me to England, where for the first time in my international travels, I found myself with a deep affinity for America. (You'd think squatting over a hole in Beijing would have inspired that same emotion, but not so much.) There were times walking around Leeds I nearly went up to other tourist-looking people to ask if they were from the states. I managed to refrain from quizzing strangers, and continued to wander around with not so much homesickness, but a feeling of disconnect.

A few days after coming home, I, for the first time in my life, was laid off. Which, like many people said to me at the time, may have been the best thing that's ever happened to me. My life veered off course and the road less traveled has been a really great, albeit sometimes extremely stressful, one. With a lot more time on my hands, I got to focus on yoga and finishing up teacher training strong. I felt, for the first time since graduating college, that I truly owned my life and my time.

By July, I was freelancing and finding that I could get by on my own. I took time to figure out what I "really wanted to do when I grew up" and found that it's what I've always loved doing—writing. Though money-wise it wasn't quite enough, I started making a small living writing and designing. I was, though, working from my kitchen table, casting aside years of a hellish commute, which was fantastic. I dabbled more in the "do things that scare you" arena and found the payoffs to be huge.

August brought me new clients and a bit of a breather from worrying about money and bills. I made some amazing new friends through my new gigs that I am inspired by and look up to. But just as quickly as I felt I had started moving in the right direction, I did fall off course for a bit, which brought with it health problems and headaches (not to mention BILLS — thank you overpriced and lackluster health insurance plan). But that too was a gift.

In November, I made the decision to go to India for 14 days. Still not working full-time, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to go since I didn't have to ask anyone but myself for the time off. I struggled with the decision for awhile because, well, it scared the crap out of me. Despite having been all over the world, this was out of my comfort zone. I'm going with strangers, it's the longest trip I've ever taken, and hell, I don't have a full-time job so handing over that credit card wasn't easy! I so wanted to be the girl that could just pick up and go to India. But then I realized...I could. So I am.

This year I learned that I need to listen to my gut. Not I should...I need. I learned that my intuition is pretty spot on, I just need to learn how to trust that feeling better...and breathe. Even for the little things like that voice in my head that said, "I think you may have dropped your glasses on the bus," that I ignored, when, in fact, I had dropped my glasses on the bus.

And now that 2014 is coming down to its last hours, I'm excited for the new year and what it holds for me. One of the most valuable lessons for me this year has been learning how to be grateful. Even in those moments when it feels like everything is falling apart, to try to find the purpose in them and be grateful. I'm grateful I had the time I had in teacher training; I'm grateful for the lessons I've learned in losing my job and perceived security; I'm grateful I've been able to earn a living doing things that make me happy; I'm beyond grateful for the people in my life; I'm grateful that for the times I took one step forward only to take two back, that I was given the chance to do so.

I'm not saying I've by any means mastered this, because if you know me, you know I can be quite the little stress ball, but it's something I'm going to continue to work on in 2015 and beyond. One of my yoga teachers posted this earlier today and I think it sums up the year (and all years) beautifully:

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful - Gautama Buddha

So cheers to what we've learned, have yet to learn and what we can teach each other. Happy 2015.

Green Week, Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Wed, 12 Nov 2014 16:01:00 +0000

But Jen, it's only Wednesday. Yes, I know. I started "Green Week" on Sunday, so today is day four. So far, I've seen a bigger improvement than on any of the antacids I've taken, double strength or otherwise.

I've been starting the day with a shot of wheatgrass and a green juice. The wheatgrass isn't getting any easier to get down. In fact, yesterday it wasn't all juice, there were still pieces of grass. Blech. But, if it works, I'm in. The green juice isn't so bad...except for yesterday when I was convinced to throw a shot of wheatgrass in it. Otherwise, I'm pretty down with spirulina.

I've also been looking at alkaline versus acidic foods and following (as close as possible) an 80/20 diet (80% alkaline/20% acidic). It's only been four days, but the difference is noticeable. The prescriptions didn't make a dent. Food really is the answer.

That and managing stress. I'm becoming more tuned into when I become anxious, even when it's just a tiny bit. My body responds right away which allows me to notice and react and necessary steps to not let it grow. I'm able to ask myself, "Why am I feeling this way? Is it a real issue or imagined? What can I do right now to alleviate some of the stress?"

This is four days in. I'm excited to see what a week, two weeks and even a month of 80/20 eating does for me!

Dr. Jen is Taking Charge

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Mon, 10 Nov 2014 20:37:00 +0000

People have asked me my whole life how I stay so skinny. I always joked and answered, "Malnutrition." But really, I may not have been completely wrong in that statement. After dealing with years of stomach problems that my doctor feels can only be solved by taking a pill that may cause me to have "involuntary tongue movements," I'm taking a good look at what I'm putting into my body.

I've eaten like a five-year-old pretty much until I was 31. I didn't want to try anything new and if it was green, dear god, get it away from me. When I started suffering from agonizing stomach pains due to stress, I started making some changes. But once my belly was better, my old eating habits came back quickly.

Over the next few years, I slowly got more and more into yoga and more aware of the food I was eating. I started trying things—even salad! I thought I had been doing well at balancing my food intake, with the exception of the ridiculous amount of ice cream I ate. But hey, I was working out a lot, so it was okay right?

Well, sprinkle in a lot of stress over a short amount of time and I found myself battling heartburn. Every day. Every day for three months. I tried every over-the-counter remedy. Nothing was helping. So I started experimenting. I cut out dairy. Overall I felt better, I was even able to run some because the inflammation in my knees was going down. Great! But my stomach was still pissed. And it was only getting worse.

After an endoscopy and no real issues, my doctor landed on telling me to double both of the meds he prescribed me for a week. If that didn't work, he'd put me on a med that would help regulate the muscles in my esophagus and potentially cause several muscle spasms, including uncontrollable tongue movements. I don't want that.

I spent the weekend watching documentaries about juicing and reading about proper body pH, alkaline and acidic foods, and planning how I was going to eat as best I could for one week. That would include daily wheatgrass shots and focusing on alkaline foods to try to help balance my stomach...and my body.

What bothers me is that my doctor doesn't seem to be interested in the root cause. He didn't recommend foods to eat, or ask deeper questions about my diet other than, "Do you drink coffee?" He just offered prescriptions—prescriptions that have side effects that I'd likely need to take more prescriptions for.

So I'm going to spend the next couple of weeks spending some more time experimenting with food and taking in as much green as I can to see if it makes a difference. A shot of wheatgrass everyday certainly seems like a better option than having a spastic tongue. Let's see how it goes.

When Life Punches You in the Face, Punch It Back

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Sat, 18 Oct 2014 00:15:00 +0000

I am definitely one of those people who, when one thing goes wrong, it triggers a whole series of events that leave me feeling like I'm buried under a ton of bricks. Like the Universe pulled the wrong Jenga piece and they all just toppled on me. For those of you "when it rains it pours" people out there, you know what I'm talking about.

This has been a banner week of "What the fuck is happening?" And it all just culminated with me witnessing a cat get run over by a car. Seriously. "This can't be happening," I thought as I watched her lift her dying head up, screaming in pain.

As I stood there wondering what evil spirit is making all this shit happen around me and what I could do to help the cat, a man got out of his car, stopped traffic and ran into the road to pick up the dying cat. As he carried the cat's limp body to the sidewalk, I stood there to meet him, amazed that he did what I wanted to do but was too stuck trying to figure out if I actually should.

He put her shaking body down on the ground and we stayed with her, petting her little paws until she passed. The stranger/cat superman said he would come back and bury her since the cops told me they would just call DPW for "removal".

I called my boyfriend as I walked away and asked him how I could get rid of this black cloud over me. He said that maybe we need to start remembering to focus on the positive. I reminded him that doing that is kind of hard when I'd just watched a cat get run over.

But he's right. It's so easy to get caught up in the bad and let yourself mentally spiral into the negative. Especially weeks like this where the bad is pretty large and constantly punching you in the face. But there is good.

There's the guy who jumped out in traffic to keep any more cars from hitting that poor cat. I mean, that's pretty freaking awesome. It didn't even occur to me NOT to do that, where as I was standing on the side of the road still trying to figure out what to do.
There's my boyfriend who can stick with me through the good times and the bad. That in and of itself is a great thing. And I've done the same for him. Getting through the bad moments really does make the good ones much sweeter.
There's the wonderful lunch with my father yesterday, giving me some quality Daddy/daughter time in. Those moments are too rare and I cherish them.
There are my friends who constantly offer support, wine and exercise company. And they don't even think twice when I say, "I want to sage my apartment to get rid of the badness." They just show up with sage. I love them.

Life can constantly remind us that it's hard. Sometimes we forget to fight back and remember that there is good. But it's a fight worth having, because if we give up, what's left?

Finding My Place in His Place

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 23 Sep 2014 18:01:00 +0000

So I moved into my boyfriend's place, which means it's not a new place that we've deemed as ours and are both starting fresh. It was his place, with his routines and his memories that I'm trying to figure out how to make ours without stepping on toes, taking over too much, or just confusing the hell out of him because nothing is where it used to be. I'm trying to figure out the best way to fit.

This is hard to do—period—when one is moving into another person's place, but even harder when he's not even in the country. So I can't ask him what he thinks of the shelves being hung there or hanging family photos over there or putting the kitchen table just so. And that kind of sucks because I want him to feel at home in his home that is no longer just his home.

Before he left for his five-week sojourn the place was in a rather unbearable state of chaos. There was a giant mound of things in the kitchen that had to be moved to storage and there was everything else—all over the place. He was frustrated. I was frustrated. I think even our stuff was frustrated.

Now that I am starting to get settled and the apartment is pretty much only a hint of what it used to be, I wonder if he will like it. I can't imagine what it would be like if I went away for weeks and came home to an apartment that looks nothing like the one I left. I mean, I think it looks pretty nice, but that's because I did it. And hell, after living with mounds of stuff piled on other stuff, just having a bit of order would seem nice. But really, it looks nice.

I tried to find balance throughout the place between his things and mine. I imagined conversations with him about what his thoughts were on each piece and where they should go. I tried to free up space for his art supplies, which I know he was sorely missing before he left. I tried to get my always-too-large collection of knick-knacks up without taking over the walls and shelves. I think I only partially succeeded on that second one.

But mostly I miss him and just want him to come home. To our home. And the rest can be figured out along the way.

Today's Blog Post Brought to You by Incompetence and the Letter F

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Mon, 22 Sep 2014 17:57:00 +0000

I've had my share of doctors visits. Actually I've had more than my share. I've probably had yours too. You're welcome. Anyway, I've met outstanding doctors and I've met those doctors where you think, "Well I guess someone had to graduate last in their class." And behind every great (or terrible) doctor is their office staff.

Lately these people have for the most part just made me shake my head. Maybe I shouldn't say lately, I should say again. Look, I'm not a genius and there's plenty I don't know, but I also don't work in a doctor's office. I write. But if you work in a doctors office, and are in charge of asking medical questions you should need to have some sort of semblance of medical knowledge.

Generally if you're at the doctor, something isn't quite right. When I'm in these situations I'm usually tense, nervous, sometimes a little sad, but mostly, I want to feel like I'm surrounded by competent people who are going to be able to help me. If I tell you I had a pituitary tumor, I feel like the person asking whether or not I've had any surgeries should know where the pituitary is. I'm not asking you know the function, just know that it's in the brain. It's kind of an important gland.

But then my mind flashes to all those TV commercials about how you too can become a medical assistant in no time at all! Well it should take time! Let's get some basic anatomy in there. Perhaps some biology. Anyone can read a script and type in my answers. But I'm not paying out the ass for Obamacare and copays to have "anyone" interact with me when I'm waiting to find out what the fuck this lump is in my breast.

Also if you're going to ask, "Are you related to the Minchins?" You're going to need to be a little more specific because the answer would be, "Obviously. It's my last name."

The End of an Era

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Sun, 21 Sep 2014 22:21:00 +0000

Five years ago I moved to Hoboken. Today I moved out. I'm beyond happy to be moving, especially since I'm moving in with the boyfriend, but starting a new chapter is always bittersweet.

As I stood in my empty apartment this morning, I looked around and the past five years played like a movie reel through my mind. There were countless happy times, some of the worst of my life and a smattering of drunk after parties. I've done yoga, thrown my back out moving an air conditioner, accidentally set my kitchen table on fire, worked from my fire escape, waited out two hurricanes, wrote my book, baked muffins for Thorton the squirrel, had friends from out of town, partied with my family, waded through grief, stayed up with the lights on all night afraid that aliens were in my apartment, called the cops on my neighbors, made friends with other neighbors, became a whiz at parallel parking, fostered new friendships, practiced for teacher training finals, learned how to collect unemployment, woke up at 2 a.m. every Tuesday and Thursday for "bottle night", had my heart broken, fell in love, came home as the sun was coming up, and just all around really got to know myself.

My life has changed so much since I step foot in that third floor walk up. I think of all the five-year increments of my life, I grew and learned the most in Hoboken. I have a million fanastic memories and some amazing new friends that I know I will have for the rest of my life. For that I am eternally grateful. Closing my door for the last time today was hard. Change is hard; but change is good.

Remember to Enjoy the Transitions

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Sat, 20 Sep 2014 03:23:00 +0000

I've been thinking, talking and writing a lot lately about transitions...because I'm in the middle of one. I finally made my way to a yoga class tonight and interestingly enough, the theme was—transitions. She spoke about the transition from summer to fall and how so often we're looking to get from point A to point B (be it a season, a destination, or some other point in time) without enjoy the middle, the now, the transition.

That's one of the things I love about yoga...that somehow the class lesson applies to exactly what's going on in my life. It made me stop and think about how a month ago I was starting to be able to enjoy the "in between." I wasn't working full time, but I knew that one day I would be, so I was enjoying the moment. I had more time to get to the gym, I was free of a schedule, I owned my life in a way I never had before. Tonight's class also made me realize that I have stopped doing that entirely.

This slow transition from living alone to moving in with my boyfriend had become so stressful I have been missing out on the middle. For example, instead of enjoying waking up next to the man I love and having a lazy Saturday last weekend, I was wide awake, assembling shelves and rushing off to my apartment to move boxes—because I wanted to the move to be done. I wanted to get to point B. In that, I missed relaxing with him the last weekend before his five weeks of travel.

I'm pitta to the core and most of the time I can't sit still if there is "stuff" to be done. I need reminders, like tonight's class, to remember that in rushing to get things done I miss the process of getting them done and sometimes the beauty in not getting them done at all. I overlook the small moments, when those are exactly the ones that should be cherished.

I'm Not Sure This Was a Good Idea

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Fri, 19 Sep 2014 00:58:00 +0000

Remember yesterday when I said I was going to write every day? Well, I'm starting to second guess that. See, I wrote stuff all day at work. Now it's 9 p.m. and I still have a bunch more stuff to write. So that totally counts, right?

Actually, this totally counts! Look at me, I'm writing. Tra-la-la. Type type type. Okay, I'm really tired and I seriously need to get some freelance work done. And I need to eat my soup before it gets cold. All right then. Good talk. Good night Internet.

I Just Spent 3 Hours with an Energy Healer

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Thu, 18 Sep 2014 02:04:00 +0000

I love reiki, so when my friend said she had recently gone to a lady in our neighborhood and it was a great experience, I set up an appointment with the woman right away. I've been stressed, I've been slacking on yoga, and I've been feeling like old stuck Jen, so I thought this could be a good kickstart to getting me back into the right headspace.

It was supposed to be an hour and a half, but three hours later I walked out with tears in my eyes, heart hopeful and determined to reapply myself. That alone is a lot to take in. So, what was my takeaway?

First, it can no longer be a coincidence that I need to be creating to be happy. If one person says it, it's easy to brush off; two can be a coincidence; three maybe you start to pay attention; but after several people in various fields from all walks of life have told me the same things over and over, it's pretty hard to ignore. I've always been a writer at heart. Whether I'm awesome or I suck, it's what I love. And I need to do more of what I love. In the spirit of a painter friend of mine who just completed 365 days of drawings, I challenged myself to 365 days of writing. Maybe it won't happen...but I won't know unless I try. Here's to day one.

Why the tears? Well, why not the tears. I am stressed. I went from four months of doing whatever the hell I wanted to working full time again. I went from doing yoga almost every day to not at all. I also went from being settled to somehow thinking that slowly moving into my boyfriend's apartment would be way better than doing it all in one day and getting it over with. (Opposite. The opposite is true. I'm currently typing with my laptop on an ironing board and using it as a table for dinner as well. Why? My table hasn't made the painfully slow move yet.)

But it's not just that stress. It's taking all of the keepsakes I have of my grandmother's and deciding what should go into storage and what should come to the new place. Everytime I tried to pack something away, I'd burst into tears. So that means that 99.9% of the stuff made the move. Except for a giant portrait of my grandparents. And it breaks my heart that it's in a box right now. So when the energy healer asked if I was close to my grandmother because she got a sense that an older lady with a great sense of humor was hanging around, I lost it. But again, being the third person who knew nothing of grams to tell me that, it's good to know grams is hanging around and looking out for me. But god I miss her with every fiber of my being every day.

Through all of this, I'm ever hopeful because, yes, transition is hard. And this has certainly been the year of transitions. I am exhausted, but this too shall pass. With each massive change my life has only gotten better. So if I can manage to finish this move, get my ass to a yoga class, and stick to doing what I know I love, life will start to feel a lot lighter again. If I can sprinkle some meditation in there, even better. But right now, I could really just use some sleep.

Musings from an Airplane

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Thu, 03 Jul 2014 20:41:00 +0000

I'm sitting on an airplane on my way to Florida. I didn't have to ask anyone's permission. I didn't have to take time off. I was just able to go. And when I got an email alert saying that I should change my travel plans to a day earlier to avoid bad weather, I could do that without thinking twice. I started to think about a quote from the HBO Series Six Feet Under. Nate said, “I work at a job which was also supposed to be temporary, until I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life, which apparently is nothing.” Throughout my 20’s and even early 30’s, I felt like that quote summed up my career situation because I had a constant feeling of being lost. It wasn’t until I lost my job in April that I started to really figure out what it is I want to do with my life.

There are so many things we do because “we should.” We follow certain paths, because that’s the way it’s always been done and it’s what is expected of us (broadly speaking). For a lot of people the journey from school into adulthood means landing that coveted 9-5 job when you end up sitting under fluorescent lights 40 hours a week, in most cases more, collecting a paycheck, and your life passes you by. But hey, at least you had stability.

I can’t count how many times over the past decade I would sit at my desk feeling lost and empty thinking that there had to be more than this. There had to be more than getting up, sitting in traffic, spending my entire day at a desk, doing a job I never liked because I couldn’t figure out something else—was too scared to figure out something else—and then I’d have a few hours in the evening to myself. There was yearning, it was deep, and it seemed unfixable.

I felt trapped, but I think the worst part was, I didn’t know how to fix it. Each year I got older and felt further away from ever figuring out what I wanted to be “when I grew up”. Because I had grown up, and I was starting to feel like I missed it. So I justified it. This job that made me miserable let me travel; it gave me health insurance; it gave me a comfortable living situation. And though I managed to get everywhere from Hong Kong to Honolulu, and loved every second of every experience, I was still missing something. I was traveling the world searching for…something.

But then things started to change. I remember clearly sitting at a friend’s kitchen table this past March feeling like I was being pushed out of my life. Nothing felt like it fit anymore and I felt that something big was coming. I just didn’t know what. Things were changing at work, as they generally did that time of year, my boyfriend was about to leave the country for three months, and my yoga teacher training would be coming to an end soon. I was nervous but interested to see what the end result of my gut feeling would be.

When I lost my job shortly thereafter, I thought about it and laughed. I knew things were going to change, but that’s certainly not the way I thought things were going to happen. My favorite reaction to telling someone I had gotten laid off was, “Congratulations!” I hadn’t been happy at my job for a long time. I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until it was gone. Everyone kept saying, “Now you can do what you really love.” But I was terrified because as far as I knew, I didn’t know what it was that I loved. Eventually the magic started to happen.

It took a long time to get past the strange emotions that came with unemployment. It took even longer to settle in to the new transitional period of my life. The more I started to think about what my options were, the most I started to remember how free I used to be feel in my early 20’s, before corporate life, when I still had dreams about being a professional photographer—when I still had passion for creativity and self expression. I wanted that passion back, that freedom, that sense of actually owning my life and time.

I realized that I love writing—and that I always have. I used to write long stories, short stories, songs and poems as a child. I also realized that I could earn money doing what I love. Maybe not enough yet to really pay the bills, but I’ve had a handful of freelance jobs since that fateful day in April, and not one second of it has felt like work. That’s the dream right? My perspective on so much of my life has so drastically changed over the past 60 days. I’m more in touch with myself than I have been in over a decade. I’m happier. I’m calmer. And hey, I’m a little poorer, but I’m figuring it out.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to have this time to explore pieces of myself that have been dormant for way too long, for the friends that have supported me from day one through every emotion—good and bad, for happiness and for opportunity.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe I will end up back in a corporate job to make ends meet. But at least this time around it would be with a clear head and direction. For the moment I’m excited to have the opportunity to try the alternative. I’m excited to remember that getting a “real job” doesn’t have to mean feeling my soul die a little each day in a tiny cube in business garb at a job I can’t stand. It’s okay to want different things. It’s okay to wear jeans. It’s okay to work in my underwear at my kitchen table. It’s okay to be different, and it’s okay to be me.

I’ve missed me. I’m glad I’m on my way back.

The Post Office

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Wed, 02 Jul 2014 15:47:00 +0000

Yes, it's a great book by Charles Bukowski, but that's not what this story is about. It's a short tale of a girl and her overnight mail, in a land far, far away called Hoboken, New Jersey. It's a tale of one of those "things that make you go hmmm..." (Anyone remember that song? Anyone?)

Anyway, I had to overnight a letter for Sir Richard. So I did this. The post lady asked if I wanted a signature required; I told her I did not. As far as post office visits go, this one was pretty painless. It's still incredibly confusing trying to figure out exactly which Express envelope to use, but hey, no trip to the post office is without some sort of issue. (For all of you Express mailers, the hard envelope is $3 more than the soft envelope, though there is no indication anywhere of this difference.)

I tracked the letter yesterday to make sure it had gotten to Rich's landlord on time. Lo and behold—not so much. They didn't leave it because no one was there to sign. Even though that's the opposite of the situation we all had agreed to. I called customer service this morning and the gentleman on the phone let me know that this situation was ridiculous. His word, not mine. Actually, he was way more upset about the situation than I. He gave me the number of the local post office.

Next phone call. The post master tells me, yep, it was their bad and it would be delivered today. I asked about a refund since it wasn't so much overnight delivery, she said to go to my local office. And so I ventured on down to my post office.

There was no line when I entered.

"It can't be this easy," I thought. Alas, it wouldn't be.

I tell the post lady my story.

"You have to go around the corner to the customer service window," she said.

Ok. Sure. So I walk around the corner to the only window. Its blinds are drawn, which in and of itself, made me pause for a moment. Above the window was a sign that read, "Passports." Every piece of additional signage around the window also gave information on passport requirements.

"Clearly, I'm in the wrong place," I thought, logic leading me to believe this was where passport things took place. So I meander back over the first window. Now there's a line. So I wait and get the same post lady as the first time.

"There's no one over there," I told her.

"Did you ring the bell?"

"At the passport window? Is that what we're talking about?" I asked, still a bit perplexed at the blind situation. What's going on back there that they don't want us to see?

"Yes."

I meander on back over to the passport/secret customer service window and ring the bell. Up go the blinds and I meet the next post lady. I tell her my story. She said she'd look into it and walked away. At the same time, a man popped out a side door, looks at me, says, "Hi!"

"Hello!" He seemed excited, so I returned his enthusiasm.

"Are you being helped?"

"Yep."

"Are you the girl with the Express mail?"

How did he know? Where did he come from? What's happening? I went with, "Yes."

Enter the post master. Master of all things postal. He swings around to the secret customer service window and tells me that he has to make sure the item was deliverable.

"Paramus already said it was their fault. They had a new carrier and apparently he was confused," I told him.

"Oh they said that?" He was surprised. "I have to check with them."

There's now a line behind me and two postal people working on whether or not the letter should have been delivered. I continue to text a friend and laugh at how my phone refuses to use the word "dull" and will only send the word "full." The post lady comes back with a form and sends me in search of a table with a functional pen to fill out said form. A mail carrier actually laughed when he saw me trying to find a pen.

"Good luck!" he laughed and left the building.

Eventually I find that the third table has a pen and all of the required bits to make it work. I fill out said form and head back to the window. The post lady tells me she can no longer help me; I have to wait for the post master. Alrighty. I wait.

After a few minutes the post lady motions me back over. At this point, I question our relationship. She tells me to stay, then go, but wait, come back. My emotions are not to be toyed with post lady! She takes my form and tells me to follow her around back to the front window. And so, I head back to the first line.

The first lady rings her bell to let me know she's open. I tell her that I'm meeting the other lady up here. She sends me back to the line. When the secret customer service lady emerges, she tells me to go back to the first lady, who just sent me back to the line.

I stand there for a few minutes as four people behind the window consult on the paper I had handed over. When the post lady comes back she asks if I have change for a $20.

"What? Can't I just get the credit put back on the card I charged it with?" I asked, once again misplacing logic.

"No. So you don't have change?"

"No."

But then she took out exact change and paid me my refund in cash. Well, hell.

All's well that ends well, I suppose. Happy mailings.

The Many Changing (and Unexpected) Emotions of Unemployment

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 27 May 2014 15:49:00 +0000

I used to joke about losing my job and how it’d be better than being stuck in an office all day long. There had to be more. I didn’t work in the healthiest environment, so surely anything would be better than that, right? I’d have unemployment and severance so I would be fine. I really had myself convinced that my type-A, need-to-be-doing-something-at-all-times personality would relish the time off. More than that, that I would be able to take the time off, sit back, and enjoy the summer. Well, here are the things I’ve found after one month of “freedom.”

I really do need to be doing something at all times. Within the first two weeks of losing my job, I had landed a part-time temp job, and started learning how to build websites. Granted, I was using template sites, but my knowledge of HTML, CSS, layout, and website things in general went from zero to 60. It’s the moments when I am still that…
I am terrified. There are a couple of emotions that rise to the top and I can’t really distinguish which is the most overpowering. But fear is a big one. Yes, I have always been good with money and have savings. That is a great thing. But what I don’t know is how long I will need to sustain myself without a steady income. How long will I need to pull from savings to pay rent? How long will it take me to find work? Will I find work? I’ve always been a planner and having so much up in the air is downright terrifying.
There are many ways to earn a living and they don't all involve sitting in an office. I've had some fun experiences in the past few weeks which have really been eye-opening. I may love the stability of working 9-5, but it's not the only way to be. I am still trying to figure out if I have the stomach for inconsistency. (If you know me you're thinking, probably not Jen, probably not.)
Stress can cause cold sores. I guess this is common knowledge for a lot of people, but I have never in my life had a cold sore. When my doctor friend responded to my text of, “What the fuck is on my face?” with, “Looks like herpes,” I was half ready to jump through the phone and ask my boyfriend what the hell?! But she explained that no, no, it’s just a cold sore. Super. With no health insurance, that little beauty took a solid 15 days to go away. I have friends who say they get them all the time. Dear God.
The government stole my severance. Well, it pretty much got taxed like a bonus since it was paid in one lump sum. So about 45% of that money I never saw, which really doesn’t leave a lot. I finally understand all the stories you hear about people saying, “Eight years of my life and this is how I am treated? This is what I get?” It’s hard to see a value put on your time. Especially when that value is not a lot.
I am sad. No, I didn’t love sitting in traffic for upwards of four hours a day and then spending the bulk of my life underneath fluorescence. But it allowed me to bring something to the table. This emotion took awhile to hit me, but not working has left me feeling lost, confused, and of very little value. What am I adding? The ego has kicked in big time and it is not a happy camper. This is probably the worst of the unexpected outcomes.
Unemployment can suspend your money for weeks at a time. When I am stressed or upset, I don’t process information well. That led to me filling out my unemployment forms wrong. Which led to them sending me a letter saying they’re not sure I will qualify and they will talk to me about it in three weeks. In the meantime they’d be holding all my benefits. And the part-time job I had, well that project is over. All of that is awesome when you have to pay $400 a month in insurance premiums. Which leads me to…
The Affordable Care Act is not affordable. Not in New Jersey anyway. I still can’t wrap my head around how $400 is considered affordable when living on unemployment and supporting yourself completely alone. Granted, the month of May when I was in between work insurance and my own has been a stress ball until itself, so I am glad to be covered, but without money coming in, it’s hard to see how I can continue to pay for rent, food, and insurance.
There is happiness, but it’s definitely hiding under the layers of stress, fear, and panic. The prospect of defining my own future is exciting. And there are moments when it seems like the world is exactly as it should be and things are awesome. But there are also moments when I have no reason what so ever to put on pants. I guess that’d be a plus in some people’s books.
It’s a roller coaster. I’m a woman so I know what it is to be moody. But the past few weeks I’ve been amazed at the breadth of emotions I’ve had and the frequency at which I cycle through them. I’m beyond grateful for my friends who listen, talk me down, and just overall deal with, and help, me through this time. And that definitely goes on the plus list…
I have some amazing friends. It really is through the hard times in life that you find who is really going to stand by your side and help you. I’m honestly blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life right now. I just want to hug them all—all of the time.
I am going to be super fit. The last time I had this much time to go to the gym and yoga was when I was 22, not working, and living in California. At least then I had someone paying rent. My diet may have gotten worse because, let’s face it, crap food is way more affordable than health food, but I am working out everyday, most days twice.

So basically, pick any one of the emotions above and I could be feeling them at any given moment, sometimes two at a time. It’s exhausting. I try to breathe and meditate and tell myself that I need to enjoy this time off, this time to myself, because it won’t be like this forever. In the meantime, I’ve launched a yoga project, have attended webinars, went to a yoga talk, attended free yoga events, built several websites, designed business cards, written articles, but today, for instance, I’m having a hard time putting on pants.

To Stress or Not to Stress—Is That Really the Question?

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Tue, 20 May 2014 15:01:00 +0000

repostedfrom the (yoga) posers blog

Lately, when I get stressed, I think of this story one of my yoga teacher told me about the effects of stress on the bodies of mice. An experiment was done in which one set of mice were given everything they needed to survive and the other group of mice wasn’t. They were put into stressful situations, that I guess would be a mouse’s parallel to losing a job, a car breaking down, or wondering if they’d be able to afford their rent and grocery bills. Whatever that is in mouse-terms.

After the mice went to mouse heaven, autopsies were performed and the stressed out mice’s organs had turned black. I think about this when I feel a knot in my stomach. Is that my stomach turning black?

After going through more than my fair share of life changes in the past couple of months, changes I didn’t choose, I do wonder what effect all of the stress is having on my body. The cold sore on my face is one quite obvious example of how stress can present itself physically. So I wonder if I am doing enough for myself to manage my life stressors? I think I could always do more, but I definitely have a good base.

So what do I do? How do I get through it? Well, it’s times like these that I really get to see how my yoga practice is affecting my life and mind. Now, I remember to breathe. Before yoga, stress would lead to shallow breathing, which after a while, would lead to a panic attack. Now, I know that while this present moment may not be the greatest—hell, it might be downright awful—I remember that not all moments will be like this one. And all I have to handle is what is happening right now. Before yoga, my mind would leap into a downward spiral of what-ifs and why-is-this-happening-to-me moments. I’d feel like a victim instead of someone who has the right to choose how she reacts to situations.

Don’t get me wrong: my car nearly caught fire this morning, and I definitely shed my share of tears. I felt myself beginning to fall into the old pattern of spiraling. But then I remembered yoga sutra 2.33, translated as, “When disturbed by negative thoughts, opposite (positive) ones should be thought of. This is pratipaksha bhavana.”

So I take a breath, and I start there. I needed to move my car before tomorrow’s street cleaning or a I get a ticket. So I became thankful that I tried to move it today and not tomorrow before rushing off to my temp job. I wouldn’t have been able to get things done quick enough in the morning to manage the car situation and still get to work. I was thankful that I tried to move it early so that my brothers could drive to my town and fix it for me (which they did at a fraction of the cost a shop would have charged me). Had I tried to move it tonight, I wouldn’t have access to as much help.

I feel a world of gratitude for my brothers right now, which is a way better feeling than being mad about my car. And that’s a choice. It’s one that I don’t know I could have made before immersing myself in yoga and self-study. And I’m hoping it’s one step closer to not ending up like those poor little stressed mice.

Is THIS Why People Label Their Lunch?

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Wed, 02 Apr 2014 16:44:00 +0000

I always laugh when I see lunch in the office fridge labeled with the owner's name. I mean, if someone's going to steal your lunch, I feel like knowing whose lunch they are taking would give them even more pleasure. I've had my lunch stolen and I don't think that having my name on it would have made a difference. But it occurred to me today that labeling lunch may be for the owner's sake more than the rest of the office.

Here's the thing—I have a terrible memory. Last week when I went to get ice out of the freezer for the soda I shouldn't be drinking, I noticed a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl and paused wondering, "Is that mine?" I quickly let it go realizing that other people probably like and purchase these things just like me. But today I came back from running errands and went to throw a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl in the freezer, saw the other was still there, and realized it's a very real possibility that it's mine and I just forgot that I had it in there. Had I labeled it, I would know.

So now what? Do I leave a note? "Fellow office mates, I cannot remember if this is mine or not, so kindly write back if it's yours." Do I give it another week and if it's still there eat it and hope it was mine in the first place? Do I eat it and leave a note that I have eaten it because I thought it was mine but if it wasn't I am sorry and let me know I'll give you $2? Do I try to forget about its existence in those moments I am super hungry in my office at an odd time? See, this all could have been avoided if I had just labeled my lunch, or if I didn't work in an office in the first place. But seems the former is the much more viable option at the moment. (Clearly though, I did not learn my lesson because I didn't label the new one I just threw in there either.)

This is likely why I will never create world peace. I'm too busy trying to remember if I bought myself food. Well, that and the laziness. To eat or not to eat? THAT is the question.

Stay Present. Staying Sane. (A Repost from Tumblr.)

noreply@blogger.com (Jennifer) — Sun, 23 Mar 2014 23:00:00 +0000

I started a Tumblr. account a few months ago because someone said I just had to. He was so adamant I figured I'd look into it. I decided I'd use it for shorter blog posts and mostly yoga musings. Shorter posts, okay, but longer posts, well this site has been my brain dump for a lot of years, so I feel that this particular post so live here. So here's a post from about a month ago that actually ties in nicely to the dharma talk post I just put up. Or maybe I just talk about the same things. Either way...here you go:

“If you are depressed you are living in the past. If you are anxious you are living in the future. If you are at peace you are living in the present.” ― Laozi

Yoga philosophy talks a lot about staying the present moment. It’s part of yoga’s basic purpose - to stop the fluctuations of the mind (yoga chitta vritti nirodha). It’s a fact that this is pretty hard to do, but like many lessons in life, they are only truly learned when experienced. You can tell me all you want that I should stay present, that living in the past or the future is not going to do anything to help my mental state now, but last night, for the first time, I really truly felt this. (Not to say I am going to be any better at it, but the universe painted a nice picture for me.)

Battling an epic week of the ever-fun PMS, last night I sat across from a man that I am in love with, in tears. There was no rationalizing away the emotions, my hormone-soaked brain was going to do as it pleased. But when I woke up this morning, I realized that the two things I was upset about were not happening right now. I was anxious about something that happened in the past and sad about something looming in the distance. (So, opposite of Laozi’s quote, but same-same in the end.) If I had just stopped at looked at my present situation, I would have seen everything was good in that moment.

We can’t control what the future holds. We can try to affect it, be the best people we can, and hope for the best, but that’s different than attaching yourself to a certain outcome. Life is going to hand you what it hands you and it’s how you deal with it that makes who you are. And hey, not every present moment is good. So it’s not to say that if you can manage to live in the moment you are always going to be a perfectly happy person. Sometimes the present is hard. But it’s where you are and it’s what you have. The past is gone. That doesn’t mean it’s forgotten, but it’s not meant to be clung to either.

Hormones aside, I could have saved myself a bit of heartache last night. But the best part about life is that we get to try again each day. :)