I have been so inspired by minimalists over the last year or so. People close to me can attest to the massive purging of objects that has taken place from my house and from my life. It’s been so dramatic that my brother mostly-joked twice that he wanted to make sure I wasn’t suicidal.

I will write more about my minimalness in future posts. I do want to just mention here that for me, it is all about freedom and joy, my two top values. I get giddy about having fewer possessions. I feel lighter, happier, more focused. And did I mention free.

I do, however, feel hampered sometimes in my wardrobe minimation by three factors:

• I’m a female, and subject to at least some of the attendant fashion expectations.
• I have a day job, which I’m grateful allows for a mostly casual dress code, but which does require occasional business trips and client meetings.
• I live in Pittsburgh! So I need different wardrobes for different seasons, and lots of different outerwear.

I was just starting to feel like I wanted to reign my wardrobe in a bit more when I came across Project 333 (click the link to check it out!), in which participants are limiting themselves to 33 items of clothing and accessories for 3 months — October 1 to December 31. It’s never too late to join, so I started today! I’ll continue through January 12.

Project 333 is the brainchild of Courtney Carver at Be More with Less. According to the guidelines, you do count clothes, shoes, outerwear, accessories, jewelry. You don’t count wedding rings, undergarments, or anything worn solely for sleeping, working out, or lounging about the house.

Let me just say: I am so, so, so excited. I love this idea. I am looking forward to all three months of this. It feels like fun, and joy, and freedom. Which is why I’m doing it. And which I mention in case anyone might feel like this type of thing is about self-deprivation.

I encourage anyone out there who might feel a little glimmer of freedom, joy, or or something else that makes you smile at the thought of trying this to go for it. What is there to lose? It’s just three months anyway.

Since I’ve been minimizing my wardrobe a lot already, I’ve cut back on a lot of the more specialized feminine fashion type stuff. I don’t wear heels anymore, for many reasons. I wear very few skirts, not on principle, but just because it’s what’s working right now in my life. Paring down jewelry was a big step for me, and wearing almost none for 3 months will be an interesting (probably liberating) experience.

One more thing I love about joining Project 333 is that the ground rules are set by someone else. Counting the things in your life means you have to have ground rules about what constitutes a “thing,” and everyone’s rules are slightly different. I like the idea of following someone else’s ground rules for a while, to kinda give my brain a rest about it. And these are ground rules I can live with.

So, here’s my list of 33 things:

1. jeans
2. black pants
3. jeans – backup
4. black 3/4 sleeve work appropriate t-shirt
5. pink patterned 3/4 sleeve work appropriate t-shirt
6. gray sweater shell (which I discovered today doubles as a cute vest — and until today, I probably haven’t worn anything remotely vest-like since 3rd grade!)
7. black turtleneck (somewhat risky choice because it’s brand new, but I think it will come in handy for layering later)
8. maroon long-sleeve t-shirt
9. blue long-sleeve t-shirt
10. purple t-shirt
11. gray sweater
12. navy sweater (not really the best color choice to go with the other stuff on this list, but I already have it, and it’s nice)
13. purple sweater
14. brownish velour jacket
15. gray drapey cardigan jacket
16. black drapey cardigan jacket
17. my dad’s old plaid shirt
18. Evo barefoot running shoes (my every-day shoes)
19. black tall casual but cute boots (my every-day cold weather shoes)
20. black fall-weight coat
21. pinkish-red winter jacket
22. fuzzy polka dot hat
23. black gloves
24. black and hot pink houndstooth cotton scarf (outerwear + accessory)
25. teal-colored Swatch
26. silver slightly dangly earrings (these might just stay in my ears the whole time)
27. sunglasses
28. wallet-like purse-ish thing
29. messenger bag (made by the amazing and Pittsburgh-based moop)
30. black suit jacket (in the event of client meeting)
31. gray pants (to wear with black suit jacket)
32. black business-y shoes (to wear with suit jacket and gray pants)
33. long black skirt (and if I need to wear it, I hope it is outdoors in December, as I think my boots are actually the girliest shoe option on this list)

Caveats and confessions:

• I’m not counting my Croc-type foam clogs, since they are only worn on quick dog walks and for picking up dog poop in my tiny backyard. Since I also sometimes wear my PJ’s to do these things, and since these activities currently constitute a not-insubstantial portion of my “exercise,” I figure this is fair. They’re in no respect a wardrobe item.

• I’m a little cranky about counting my “purse” and messenger bag, since they are not worn and I don’t consider them accessories…but I’ve decided to play by this rule anyway. Same for sunglasses, since I mainly use them for driving and watching my nephew’s soccer and baseball games. I would rather have squeezed in a necklace or two and maybe another t-shirt, but whatever.

• I’m not counting the tiny hoop earring that sits at the top of my ear. Because it’s just sort of *there* and I don’t feel like making it *not there* at this time. In fact, I almost forgot about it entirely. If other people start counting their tattoos then I’ll consider counting it.

• My hair is in a growing-out phase and some type of hair-wrangling item could become necessary during this project. If that happens, I’ll stick to plain bobby pins only, as invisible as possible.

• Since married people don’t have to count their wedding rings, I’m reserving the right to wear my grandma’s onyx ring when the mood strikes me. I’m sure I could do without the ring, I’m just representing for singletons.

• Even though sleepwear, workout clothes, undergarments and loungey items are not part of this project, I’m going to ride this wave and reduce them. More on that later perhaps.

• Just as a note, all of the items on the list are vegan to my knowledge except the business-y shoes (leather), the black suit jacket (contains wool), the gray sweater (contains cashmere), and the black fall-weight coat (wool), all of which I’ve had since before my vegish transition (I think I’ve had the shoes and fall coat for over 10 years).

I want to say thanks to Courtney Carver over at Be More with Less for the fresh inspiration, and to all the other bloggers who are writing about it! Let the fun begin.

I lived in Manhattan in 2001, and on 9/16/01 I wrote a journal of my experiences over the preceding 5 days. I am publishing it here today in respectful remembrance of the events and aftermath of 9/11. I have not edited this journal at all, except to insert pictures.

The view from the roof of my building

September 11-16

For me, a 5-year New Yorker

At 9:15 a.m. last Tuesday I read an email from my dad asking me to call him soon for some chit-chat. I called him at his office right then, and we played phone tag with a lot of trouble getting through on both sides. He said, “you’ve got planes crashing into the World Trade Center” and, “just call me when you get to work.”

I didn’t get it. I envisioned an errant biplane with a clipped wing. So at around 9:30 I put on my headphones and left the apartment. On the way down the stairs, I encountered some neighbors heading upstairs, and one of them said, “You can see it from the roof.” “What?” “The planes…the planes that hit the World Trade Center.”

I live in Alphabet City, which is in the lower eastern part of Manhattan. Two to three miles northeast of the WTC complex, probably.

I turned around and headed up to the roof of my 6-story apartment building. About 10 other people were already staring south. We had an absolutely clear view of the two towers, gaping, smoking, flaming. We knew that at least one of the planes had been hijacked, but not much else. I couldn’t believe the towers were standing. We all just said, “Holy shit” over and over.

Eventually I went back downstairs to get a camera; when I came back up, all the people from my building had left but there were lots of other people on other roofs nearby. I took pictures of the tower and pictures of the people. At that point, I didn’t really think of not going to work; I thought to call, but there was no getting through. I started walking. There were no available cabs—I mean none—though usually at quarter of ten there are plenty (I go to work pretty late even for a New Yorker). I started the 30-minute walk westward on Houston Street.

Confused, shocked people on Avenue A

People were wandering all around the sidewalk, everyone looking aimless and aghast. Small crowds were gathering at all the intersections, where you could see south between the buildings. People were giving each other sympathetic and confused looks. One such woman started walking next to me (completely unheard of on any other morning in Manhattan). She told me, “One of the towers just collapsed.” Sure enough, by the time I got to the next big intersection and looked south, there was only one tower.

A few minutes later I slowed down to listen to a man who was telling a gathering crowd how he’d been in one of the towers, and it had taken 30 minutes to get out. A little farther along I encountered another man with a similar story. In this second group a woman who knew someone in the WTC broke down, and the strangers comforted her. At about 10:30 I finally got to work on the far-west side, and I had to show ID to even get in the door. Upstairs, I stopped in the main conference room just in time to watch the second tower crumble on the oversized TV screen.

Clearly the office was closing. People were gathering in small groups saying profound things like “New York will never be the same.” I went to my desk and emailed people I knew would be wondering about my safety, then I headed out. Straight back to the East Village, to a friend’s place 7 blocks north of mine—he has cable.

There were still crowds of people just sort of milling around. Most people were headed north, as they would be for the rest of the morning. I started to see dust on shoes. Everyone was still being unusually friendly.

My friend’s apartment became command central for his friends and his girlfriend’s. He also has a cable modem, so we didn’t have to worry about dial-up Internet access. And thank goodness for the Internet—if it weren’t for email and instant messenger, we wouldn’t have been in touch with our families till late afternoon at least. Everyone was absolutely frantic to find out that we weren’t anywhere near there.

For the rest of the day we sat, stared at the TV, talked to each other, checked our email and called people when we could. We also started what was to become a 5-day binge eating spree. Later in the afternoon a couple of us went to Beth Israel hospital to try to give blood, but we were turned away along with a crowd of about 30 people; they already had more  donations than they could handle.

Walking around town, I saw restaurants passing out ice water on the sidewalks, and there were scribbled signs “restrooms open to the public today.” There was a huge steady stream of people walking north; that was the only way for them to get uptown. Many people had dust-covered shoes, and it was very weird to see people in suits with briefcases and just COATED with dust. I’ve never seen so much foot traffic, and so eerily quiet. Everyone was being friendly with everyone else. Thousands of people had to walk home to Brooklyn and Queens.

Back in the East Village cable TV hovel, people were speculating about the potential for chemical or biological attacks, and people in delis were saying, “Buy bottled water!” (not many people, just some vocal ones some friends spoke to on a run for corn chips and salsa).  A friend of a woman in my party took one of the ferries home to New Jersey, where they were dumping buckets of water on them as they got off and frisking, questioning, and examining (heart rate, breathing, etc.). So I spent some time freaking out that someone thought there was a credible threat of who-knows-what. We also heard rumors that the WTC was full of asbestos…and that all New Yorkers should be wearing masks around for the next 2 weeks. And the cat owners in the room were described their cats’ odd and wiggy behavior that morning.

Wednesday morning, 14th street south was “closed,” and that includes my apartment and my office. That means no cars, no one allowed in but residents of the area, ID required. I lost my driver’s license (and before that it was from Arizona anyway), so I carried around my passport and my phone bill. Except for the groups of people gathering around cars blasting news broadcasts and the general deer-in-headlights look about everyone on the street, even lower Manhattan didn’t seem much different than normal. It wasn’t like dust and debris settled over the whole city. Rudy Giuliani implored New York to go back to normal life…eating out, shopping, just a normal day. Right!

I’ll tell you what though; my friends and I are all liberal or progressive and have never been big fans of Giuliani as mayor. Everyone I’ve talked to has been completely supportive of and delighted in his attitude and his leadership in the aftermath. He’s been real, and direct, and honest, and strong, and he really gives the impression of having everything as much under control as is possible in the circumstances. We’re pretty happy with Pataki too…only Bush has been maligned, but I won’t get started on that.

I went out early to get some food, and the grocery store and some delis I could see were open. No newspapers made it in though. There was a coffee/bagel shop open and there were people hanging out there. I thanked the guys for being open and he smiled and said, “Well, I didn’t know, they said everything is closed, but I came in and took the risk.” It was a sunny beautiful day and I could only see smoke from my neighborhood every once in a while, though there was a big sort of white cloud-looking formation seeming to emanate from that direction.

My roommate and I figured out that we can get shaky channel 2 reception. We stayed glued to the TV the whole day, following the rumors that people had been rescued, the stories about cell phone calls from the rubble, and the news of some guys being caught with a van full of explosives headed for the George Washington bridge. We ate the ice cream I’d bought that morning. We kept trying to call people, and kept getting more emails asking how we were. One email from a friend of mine in Texas reported that her high school students had been dumbstruck to read the accounts I sent. She said they didn’t get it; they’d laughed when they saw people running on TV. For some reason I took this very personally.

That evening we ventured out for more supplies: ice cream, videos, scotch.

Thursday I spent on the couch. All day. With the TV, and another pint of B&J. There was mild nervousness about the air quality. Lower Manhattan was still closed, as was my office. My roommate, who’s office is in Soho, was redeployed to the upper west side, where she actually took calls from customers who called her “an atrocious administrator” for not having contingencies in place. Most, however, were kind and understanding. Of course, my roommate is asthmatic, so I required her to wear a mask at all times when she was outside. Still no newspapers.

Thursday evening I got some good news, however: I had an opportunity to volunteer at the Red Cross, doing data entry. They’d received so many volunteer applications, they needed people to come in and put the information into a database. Instantly I felt incredibly privileged; volunteer spots are very hotly contested in Manhattan at the moment. It is only through my association with a new media networking group that I got this chance to do something, to contribute.

The stories continued to trickle in. Financial types who’d watched the whole thing from their 29^th floor windows. A friend was getting off the subway under the WTC when she heard the boom; she helped the blind man across from her out of the subway and away from the buildings. Someone threw themself over a fallen baby to protect it. A man frantic to get in touch with his wife passed out his phone number to strangers with cell phones; by the time he reached her, 3 other people had called to tell her he was OK.

Friday I finally managed to get out and walk around. The area was open but my office was closed out of respect (a classy move, I thought) so I had another day to myself. Not much wanting to be alone, I convinced a Brooklyn friend to come into town and hang out with me. Around 7:00 we were in Thompkins Square Park when people started gathering with candles. At 8:00 there was a vigil there, and it was really lovely. People were just quietly setting candles in circular groups on the walkways, and sitting and looking and thinking.

Hipsters at Tompkins Square vigil

My friend started getting friendly with a pit bull (New Yorkers, or East Villagers anyway, are nuts about pit bulls and all manner of squash-faced dogs) named Dorothy. Dorothy’s owner said the dog had been trembling. We sat down next to them, and Dorothy climbed right into my lap and sat down. She was shaking like a leaf. Eventually she curled up in my lap and just lay there till her owner stood to go…she’d stopped shaking and I felt a little better too.

We then made our way up to Union Square, which had been kind of the emotional center of the reaction. The square was absolutely packed, with people and candles and flags and flyers. I was very surprised to see how absolutely peaceful everything was, and how clearly people wanted this to be the end of it. Signs everywhere said “Islam is not the enemy; War is not the answer” and “An eye for an eye and we all go blind” and “Pray for peace.”

Union Square

Also Union Square

On my way home I left the $4 flag I’d bought outside a firehouse on east 14^th Street, where there was a large crowd of people gathered and tons of flowers, flags, candles, and thank-you notes plastered all over the front of the station.

8 a.m. Saturday I had to be at Red Cross headquarters, which I got to rather quickly. I had extra time to read the notes plastered on the firehouse there on Amsterdam, and relight some of the candles that had gone out overnight. Getting checked in as a volunteer was a little hectic, but once I did I got to work rather quickly. There were 20 or 30 of us (I think, there were multiple computer rooms) entering volunteer applications, and other teams had been working in shifts since Thursday. I had to leave at 3:30 or so to make room for the next shift (and believe me, NO one is to be deprived of their opportunity to volunteer) which was staying till late in the evening. They need 50 more people to continue this work this Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday (I scored Tuesday and Wednesday late shifts). Remember these are just the volunteers who are entering the volunteer applications into a database; and this is just the Red Cross volunteers. If that gives you any idea how many people are coming out to volunteer. When I left the Red Cross building Saturday afternoon, the lobby was a madhouse. People leaving had to turn in their nametags (I assume lest someone else try to sneak in with their tag).  There was a line outside just waiting to get in and fill out the volunteer forms.

Volunteer line at the Red Cross

Did I mention I had a horrible cold by Saturday morning? We’re talking full-on stuffy head coughing sneezing aching blah blah blah so I went home and crashed. I had my sources searching out drop-off sites, so on my way back I veered past the Salvation Army on 14^th Street to try to drop off my bag of boots and t-shirts. Not only could I not even get near the place, but I could also see heaps and heaps of bags and boxes, mounds at least 12 feet high against the walls. Any hope that some fire chick would end up wearing my Georgia boots was dashed, and I lugged it all back home.

Mounds of donations behind the fence at the Salvation Army

This morning—Sunday—I woke up still feeling like hell. But my roommate had reported a trip to 3 blocks south of Canal Saturday evening, so I was resolved to get down as close as I could to try to make the whole thing sink in. As close as I am, it still seems so far away. Anyway, my roommate had a volunteer fire-person escort, which may have helped her get so far, and I hear security was tightened up today after they found a passport belonging to one of the suspected hijackers. Suffice to say, I didn’t get near anything but Canal street, which doesn’t thrill me on a regular day, but with the police barricades and the veeeeeeery slow moving throngs of people, well, let’s just say it was a frustrating walk from West Broadway to the Manhattan Bridge. Which bridge I pretended I intended to walk over, hoping to slip around the police, but they had two stationed right at the end of the walkway. DAMN!

Every post-it is a note of remembrance

Actually “frustrating” sort of sums up the whole thing. I’m frustrated that there are people who believe this was a righteous thing to do. I’m frustrated that we can’t do more faster to help the people who might still be alive, and I’m frustrated that none of them have come out. I’m frustrated that we seem to be pointing the finger awfully quickly, and I’m frustrated that our government is not capable of honestly reviewing the attitudes and actions and policies that brought our world to this point, and particularly our country’s hand in them. I’m frustrated that people keep saying “I can’t believe this is happening in America!” like we’re some impenetrable fortress of purity and goodness. I’m frustrated that further death and suffering seems inevitable. As a New Yorker I’m particularly frustrated that it’s so hard to pitch in, though I’ve been luckier than most with my data entry assignments. I, like most people I suspect, feel a manic need to channel my shock and horror and sadness and grief and fear and guilt into anything that might repair some bit, however miniscule, of the damage that’s been done.

Those are just my feelings. But there’s one thing that I feel qualified to say on the behalf of New York, and that’s “Thank you.” New Yorkers are overwhelmed by the deluge of kindness and concern from the rest of the country and the world. We talk about it a lot, so you know, and how comforting it is. It is a very weird time to be here, but I feel in some way fortunate to have been so near a witness to these events and a part of this cohesive city. If you feel helpless for being far away, you should know that your support and love are making a real difference to people here.

Tomorrow I go back to work. There will still be a big cloud of dust and smoke where there used to be enormous skyscrapers a mile south of my office. Everyone in the city will still be just a little too quiet and a little too nice. My nose will likely still be running, but at least I’ll probably be able to get a cab. I probably still won’t be able to make long distance calls from home, and some of my friends across the country will still have to try 50-100 times to get through to my cell phone. Hundreds or thousands of firefighters, police, and volunteers will still be hauling bucket after bucket after dumptruck after flatbed of pulverized building out of the financial district. The world will still be hoping, ever more faintly, that someone will come out of that rubble mountain alive. Pakistan will be bribed, war will be planned, and I’ll be doing….e-commerce marketing.

Ground Zero

I was talking with a friend about her career goals the other day. She mentioned one particular path she planned to take (I don’t remember what it was) and then added: “…because I didn’t get the MBA for nothing.”

Anyone else hear it? Her past controlling her future?

Well, Carol, that’s natural, you say. We all have plans and goals and we intend to follow through on them! Your friend probably put a lot of blood, sweat, tears, time, and money into that MBA!

OK but I have a question. What would you let go of if you weren’t worried about…

• How much time you spent on it?
• How much money you spent on it?
• How much energy you put into it?
• What people would think?

What if you were set free of the responsibility to “use” your degree (or your wardrobe, or your car, or your job, or your good china, etc.)? (Let’s just agree for the rest of this post that “MBA” is shorthand for whatever ball and chain you’ve got hitched to your ankle.)

Redefining “nothing”

What if the real reason we do a thing has very little to do with what we thought the end goal was?

Taking the MBA example…what if the real “reason” you got the MBA (which you obviously did not know at the time) was to meet a particular new friend? Or learn that you don’t want to be an executive? Or just to show yourself that you could do it?

Would the money (time, etc.) have been wasted?

Well, is the money already spent anyway? I can hear my MBA friend saying, “Well, the money sure has been committed. I’ll be paying off those loans for years to come!”

So let me translate: “I’m going to keep making decisions about my life that don’t totally thrill me because I owe all this money due to past decisions that I’m determined to make pay off in the future.”

What if your MBA will pay off, but just on a completely different path than you expected? By clinging to your old idea of what the MBA was for, you may be passing up opportunities that are much more free, joyful and even lucrative!

That was then. Now is now.

Starting from right now, what idea about how to proceed with your life inspires you with joy? If the answer doesn’t seem to follow from your MBA, are you going to turn your back on it?

You may never know how the MBA really helped you. Or even if you did it for “nothing.” But are you going to drag that MBA around with you wherever you go, no matter what?

I’ve got nothing against MBAs, if the MBA-getting people are inspired and – truly – served by them.

I say: Let’s stop using our precious current resources (time, money, energy, life-force, etc.) to justify anything that we did or decided in the past which no longer contributes to our most excellent vision of the future.

Kooky Barefoot shoes

The picture in this post is of my feet in my Vibram Five Fingers shoes. More later on these awesome shoes, but for now suffice to say I love them. I love being almost-barefoot, and I can tell they’re doing great things for my feet. And, I think they’re sorta cute.

Other people are another story. I have had more violent reactions to these shoes than to any other fashion-type choice I can remember. For example:

(from a coworker, one especially casual Friday): “I don’t ever want to see those again.” and…

(repeatedly, from a family member): “I really hate those shoes.”

I admit it, I was a tad sheepish about wearing them in public at first, as they are a bit kooky-looking if you’ve never seen them before. And doing kooky things can make me feel, well, a tad sheepish.

Of course in this case, my decision to wear the shoes was not at all about the way they looked. It was a decision for my feet, one that I made consciously in alignment with my values — a choice of health over convention. Though the kookiness and my attendant sheepishness did give the idea a little extra excitement. And I might have had more hesitation if I myself had found them ugly.

When I got the negative reactions, it struck me that they were exactly what I had been afraid of; and the fear of those reactions had made me hesitate somewhat to wear the shoes around people. Now, I cheerfully wear them to restaurants and parties and all types of get-togethers (though not so much to work. Probably not out of fear, but hmm. Maybe?).

And yet, there’s that part of my brain that wants to be accepted. I can almost feel it when it kicks in – it’s a voice from the back left side of my head (I don’t know why it’s on the left). “Don’t do that! Someone might notice you in a negative way and THEN where would you be…ostracized and friendless, probably.”

I made this list of some of the other things I’ve tried in the past year or two that were conscious choices to live in better alignment with my values and life vision, and which I put off due to fear of what people would think or say. In some case I may have put them off for only a few minutes, but I still think it’s interesting how consistently The Voice butted into my business:

• Switching to a vegan (no animal products whatsoever) diet and lifestyle
• Switching (temporarily, I think) back to a lacto-vegetarian diet (consuming dairy)
• Giving up alcohol for 30+ days (Karol Gajda inspired this one, and his post talks about the adult peer pressure you may not even realize is involved in alcohol consumption)
• Drastically reducing the “stuff” I own – and especially getting rid of certain objects
• Along with reducing stuff, simplifying my wardrobe
• Wearing the same outfit 2 days in a row (haven’t worn the same outfit to work 2 days in a row though…not sure I will/want to but it might be a fun experiment!)
• Going out to lunch rather than eating at my desk
• Choosing not to repair cosmetic dents and scratches on my car

And I’m sure there are more. In every single one of these situations, I was grateful to have made the choice and I respected my own choice. Each of these decisions was based on a desire to consciously evolve according to what I feel and believe and desire in the world (my values).

What have you done that you were initially afraid of people’s reactions to? Were you glad you went for it? How long did it take to get over the fear and just get on with it? Did it matter that you hesitated?

What would you do, choose, or change today if you really didn’t care what anyone else had to say about it?

Have you ever had a really tough choice to make? One that really made you sweat? Did you make endless lists of pros and cons, only to stare at them for hours and still feel stuck?

To me, lists of pros and cons can be so detached and intellectual. OK, I wrote them down, now what? Count them? Prioritize them? Assign numerical weights? Plot them on a graph?

I say, pros and cons, schmos and schmons. Sit in a decision to get a 360 degree view of you, post choice.

Sitting in a decision is faking a choice to gauge your reaction. It takes a bit of imagination, but if you can really convince yourself that you’ve taken one road or the other, all those pros and cons come to life — as feelings.

All the fear.

All the excitement.

All the relief.

All the joy.

All the heartbreak.

All the everything. All the jitters, and stomach-butterflies, and beating hearts, and trembling hands too. All the stuff in your body that tells you which is the path of freedom and joy.

How to Sit in a Decision

Before sitting in a decision, I think it’s helpful to know what kind of decision you’re dealing with. The way I see it, there are basically 2 categories of Big Life Decisions:

• The situation in which you literally have no idea what to do. Maybe you don’t know exactly what to expect from each option, so you can’t tell which is best (or which sucks least). Or maybe you just don’t know what you want.

• The situation in which you already know what you want, but you think you can’t have it or are scared to go for it (example: quitting your job to travel the world).

In the first case, it doesn’t matter which decision you try on first. Just pick one out of a hat. In the second case, I think it’s helpful to start with the one that will be more motivating to you to go for the gold. In the example of quitting your job to travel the world, one person might be more motivated by spending some quality time as the Person Who has Decided to Quit Her Job and Roam the Planet. Another would be more motivated imagining the status quo, in all its boredom/pain/regret/torture/whatever. Try to figure out which one you are, and start with the option that will fire you up.

Once you’ve chosen an option, you can:

• (Optional) Recruit other players. This game is fun to play alone and it’s also fun to play with a partner, say if for example you’ve got a big joint decision to make with your significant other. Even if it’s your decision to make for yourself, you might enjoy inviting other people to sit there with you, treating you like they would if you were really going that route. Or you can keep it to yourself. Up to you.

• Pick a length of time to sit in the decision. A week is great for a really big decision if you’ve got the time. A minute can work if you’re under the gun. And sometimes, an option is so scary (either because it’s so bad or so good) that you know you won’t be able to stay there for long; that’s cool. Choose a length of time that feels like a stretch but won’t make you pass out.

• Choose. Choose that job, or that house, or whether to get married, or to a adopt a dog, or what to have for dinner. Make the choice and then be the person that did it. Let the other option(s) go in your mind and heart, the same way you would if you were set on the chosen course for real. Whenever the topic crosses your mind (which will probably be often, since you are so obsessed with this decision), consider it from the vantage point of being past the decision and on your way down one particular path.

• If necessary, find a way to remind  yourself that you’ve “decided.” Sometimes without reminders, it’s easy to just go about your day thinking you’re as undecided as ever. You may be in the habit of indecision, and unconscious habits have a sneaky way of taking over without your knowledge. You can try post-its on the mirror, notes in your calendar, texts to yourself, telling friends about it, whatever works for you.

• Feel. Feel the schmos and schmons coursing through your veins, like gamma radiation through The Hulk. Pay attention to what’s going on in your body; is that stomach flip from eager excitement or mortal terror? If the latter, is it the come-on-I-dare-you mortal terror or the car-headed-off-a-cliff mortal terror?

• (Optional) Act. In some cases, it makes sense to take action while sitting in the decision. Let’s say the decision is whether to start a side business painting houses. While sitting in the decision, you can feel free to take any action you are comfortable with. Tell friends you’re looking for people’s houses to paint. Actually paint a house and get paid for it. It’s up to you — just obviously don’t go crazy spending money in this stage, unless you’re rolling in it, in which case, have at it. If you think of actions that you would take if you made the decision for real but don’t feel comfortable taking right now, just write them down.

• Reflect and write, as things come to you. New positives and negatives that you would never have thought of may suddenly appear. New options may even present themselves!

• At the end of the allotted time period, especially if you have the know-what-you-want-but-scared-to-go-for-it kind of decision to make, you may have done all you need to do. (And no, we don’t judge you here if you decide you’re just not ready. It’s all good!). If you haven’t made up your mind at this point, sit in another option, and then another, until you know what to do or run out of options to try.

When I sit in a decision, sometimes the answer becomes so clear. Even if it doesn’t, I never fail to get new insights. It is so easy sometimes to become paralyzed with fear of making the “wrong” choice, when in fact there is no such thing! But sitting in a decision gives you access to your gut instinct. And when it comes to choice-making, your gut is your friend. Your brain and all its columns and lists and graphs will never guide you a quarter as truly.