Tag: decisions

Taking Big Chances and Knowing If It’s Worth the Risk
“Life is inherently risky. There is only one big risk you should avoid at all costs, and that is the risk of doing nothing.” ~Denis Waitley

Taking risks isn’t the secret to life, but taking risks does mean we are never at risk of doing nothing.

Nine months ago, almost to the day, I stepped off a plane onto German soil. I left behind everything I knew, and almost everyone I knew. I moved to a place where I couldn’t understand anyone to live with someone I had never lived with before.

But let’s back up. What exactly made me take the risk of moving to a totally foreign country, without a job, a plan, or any knowledge of the local area or language? The short answer is love.

My significant other had been offered a job in Germany, the land of his mother’s birth, and asked if I wanted to come with him. But that is just the short version.

Lots of people would consider a partner taking a job in a foreign country a deal breaker. A big part of the reason I was willing to take the risk and move across an ocean was love, but the other part is perhaps more important: I weighed the risk of moving to Germany against the risk of doing nothing—and Germany won.

I was in a life situation that lent itself to my taking this kind of risk. I had just finished my second year of national service with AmeriCorps, and I didn’t have any full time job offers. I didn’t like the city I was living in, I didn’t have any debt or dependents, and my parents and siblings were in excellent health, but lived far away.

I weighed the risk of moving to a strange land against losing my significant other by staying where I was, with no job, and no family nearby.

It seemed like an easy answer, although I still went through a risk-evaluating process I had honed through years of previous experiences. In the end, I decided that the risk of doing nothing was far greater than the risk of moving continents.

Of course, I couldn’t have come to that decision or even developed a risk-evaluating process without experiences in not taking risks.

During my undergraduate studies, I was offered an exciting opportunity to study in Thailand. Thailand has nothing to do with my studies, and the opportunity would have taken me away from everyone I knew and thrust me into a very foreign country.

I was afraid of the culture shock, the possibility of extending my studies, the language barrier, and just about everything else. I thought it sounded much more sensible to stay where I was, with my friends, and to continue my studies the way I had planned.

Later, when I heard the stories from the students who had recently returned from Thailand, I knew I had made the wrong choice. I had blindly let fear be the only deciding factor of my decision, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen again.

So when I was again faced with an opportunity to move somewhere totally foreign, I knew I had to take the risk.

Sometimes my hands shook as I packed my three boxes of stuff, which was all I could afford to ship across an ocean. Looking into the unknown was terrifying, but I had weighed the risk, and so I nervously walked onto a plane and moved to Germany.

To most people, I looked like a total idiot, or at least, I looked like someone who had risked way too much. The fact was I had calculated the risk for myself, based on factors most people couldn’t see or didn’t know, and I knew that emotionally, mentally, and physically I could handle the risk I was taking.

Nine months after I took what seemed like a crazy risk, but was actually a very calculated one, I am still living in Germany. I speak decent German, I have a part-time job, and I am attending graduate school for free.

My risk paid off, in part because I was able to think about what I was risking and what I would have risked by doing nothing.

When you are faced with a decision and are wondering if it is worth the risk, it may help to ask yourself these questions:
- Am I risking more than I am able, physically, mentally, or emotionally, at this time?
- Will I be able to take this opportunity again at some other point?
- Are my fears based on real danger, or just on the fear of the unknown?
- What other possible opportunities do I risk by taking/not taking this opportunity?
- Is the risk of doing nothing greater than what I risk by taking this opportunity?
If we think about risks with these questions and process the risk of doing nothing, we are likely to make choices that seem risky, even crazy, to others, but make sense for each of us in our own lives.

The truth is that no matter how much we try to avoid risk and hide from pain, it will still find us, even if it is just in the form of regret. It’s far better to weigh each risk for ourselves and decide which risks are right for us to take than to always let the fear of risks force us to take the risk of doing nothing.

Photo by John Nakamura Remy
February 18, 2014
Honoring Our Inner Voices to Make the Right Choices for Us

“Our lives improve only when we take chances and the first and most difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.” ~Walter Anderson

After high school I moved to the northern tip of Vancouver Island to live with my aunt and uncle and work at their fishing resort. It was a busy tourist destination at the time. Every summer the town filled with young people, home from university and eager to earn money.

I loved my time up there. I met many interesting, colorful people from around the world who came to fish, whale watch, kayak, or merely experience the exquisite natural beauty this area has to offer.

My aunt and uncle were incredible mentors, and I developed a strong work ethic from my time with them. I normally juggled three to four jobs, so most of my waking time was spent working in the service industry.

I stayed there for a couple of winters and went to the community college, while also working at my various jobs. I worked hard to save up money to do a bit of traveling and to go toward my education.

I went on an amazing adventure to Australia and New Zealand with my best friend from childhood. Afterward, I returned to my life with my aunt and uncle to work and save more money to go to school in the city, which was closer to where I was from.

During that time I met a young man who had grown up in this small town. He had a nice family and was a good person, and for the sake of this story, we’ll call him Bill.

While I was working and busy, my life was very unbalanced and there was no time for a social life (outside of traveling). I enjoyed having Bill in my life for companionship and to have some resemblance of a social life that most nineteen-year-olds surround themselves with.

Naturally, my aunt and uncle weren’t pleased about my relationship with Bill. While I didn’t see it at all at the time, I realize now that they saw something in me I didn’t see in myself. I had big dreams for my life and spent hours talking to my aunt about travel, education, and plans for my future.

Bill didn’t have these same aspirations for his life. His looked much different than mine. By different, I don’t me better or worse; we just didn’t have the same passions or much in common other than where we lived at the time.

Nevertheless, Bill and I were convinced it was a good idea for him to move and go to school with me, even though he was most comfortable and happy where he was.

During this time together, it became clear to me, and him too I’m sure, that we weren’t actually a great fit and didn’t really bring out the best things in each other. However, we were young and didn’t have a lot else to compare our relationship to. We had become a security blanket to each other during this transitional time of life.

We separated for a short time and instead of parting ways, which would have been the most natural and reasonable thing to do, we got back together and got engaged!

Looking back, I so clearly see how lost and stuck I was. My inner voice was screaming at me to take chances, be bold, and chase my dreams, but my lack of confidence and fear of pretty much everything made it so much easier to play it safe with Bill.

By safe I don’t mean comfortable and content. I mean it was a good distraction and reason to not be true to who I was.

I was so stuck and suffocated by my fear of being seen and dreaming big that it was much easier to put my blinders on and hide away with someone who didn’t at all want the same things that I truly did.

I remember our wedding day so clearly. I was twenty-three at the time, and the overwhelming sense of fear and dread was paralyzing, I felt like a fraud in my own life. I was in tears and couldn’t articulate my feelings of regret to my bridesmaids and grandfather, all eager to walk me down to Bill.

We chalked it up to nerves, and once again I stuffed down my inner voice that was screaming to me to wake up. Besides, at the time I would have never in a million years risked disappointing the people who had come that day to wish us well, even though I knew in my heart it was not right.

I was so lost that I didn’t want to admit my mistake to myself or to wake up and begin living the life I yearned to live. I am pretty sure I may have carried on unhappily and lost forever after.

I was so deep in the muck of denial that I don’t know if I ever would have made the brave choice to let Bill know we had made a mistake.

Instead, we stayed together, he living on one end of the island working, me on the other going to university. After a year of this, it was Bill who mustered up the courage to admit we weren’t a good fit and that he didn’t want the same things I did.

I’m sure there were many people waiting to see me crumble after being ‘dumped’ by Bill. I was just so relieved that I couldn’t bear to spend time giving thought to anything other than the fact I felt like I could breathe again.

While it did take a bit of time to get on my feet and back onto my path, I was finally starting to listen and honor my inner voice.

I made a pact with myself to start trusting myself and begin doing things that were uncomfortable and out of my reach to stretch and grow. I didn’t ever want to return to that place where I allowed myself to lose faith in myself.

I use this failed relationship story as an example because it had a huge impact on my life and learning. For me, the lesson isn’t just about what a happy, healthy relationship looks like vs. an unhappy, unhealthy relationship.

It’s so much more about the importance of allowing our inner voice to be heard and honored, not just in relationships but in everything we do in life.

Trusting myself has been a huge life lesson and one I continue to practice and learn from.

Life looks different for me now. I have been very happily married for eight years and am on the path that feels right and natural. We bring out the best in each other and are supportive of each other’s hopes and dreams. I now listen and give my inner voice the respect it deserves.

Of course, life still presents challenges, but when I find myself feeling unsettled or staying in the place of self-doubt for longer than necessary, I do what I can to get clear and be honest with myself, instead of hiding or stuffing away my true feelings.

Writing is an excellent tool that I use to help me gain clarity in situations, or when I need to make big decisions. I also find it helpful to go for a run or exercise to clear busy thoughts and create the necessary space to be able to tap into what feels right.

I believe that when we allow ourselves to find the space to hear our own truth, more often than not our inner self will have the answers and wisdom that will steer us in the direction we most need at the time.

Photo by Graeme Law

February 12, 2014
How to Find Clarity When You’re Confused About What to Do

“Nobody can give you wiser advice than yourself.” ~Cicero

You know that state of confusion where you feel really unsure about what to do—you’re talking about it with all of your friends, making lists, weighing options, lying awake all night?

As confused and unsure as you may feel in those moments, you’re not. You have much more clarity than you think.

Re-read that last line again. You have a lot more clarity than you think. You see, clarity is what you are. It’s what you’re born with, it’s your true nature, and it’s what is always there underneath the mess of confusing thought that sometimes dances on the surface.

Confusing thought is there in spades. Being lost in your own personal thought is what produces the feeling of confusion.

But are “you” actually confused? Nope, not in the least.

If I Am Clarity, Why Do I Feel Confused?

The feeling you call confusion is a big to-do that’s created in your mind when you have all kinds of conflicting thoughts (for example, do it, don’t do it, take a chance, why fix what’s not broken?) and you seriously entertain each of those as if they are helpful or important.

You innocently treat those thoughts as if they are each deserving of consideration just because they happen to be there, forgetting that thoughts are just blips of energy—they don’t possess qualities like “deserving.”

When you’re in a big thought storm and you grab onto each disagreeing thought that wizzes by, it feels like serious brain muddle.

Real as it seems, the confusion is an illusion. You nearly always know what you want to do—but you have too much thinking about it all to just go with what you deep-down know.

For example, I have a ton of thinking about leaving my kids for a few days. I mean a ton. My separation anxiety is unenlighted to epic proportions.

I can very easily rattle off a dozen or more reasons to not travel without them, even for very short trips. If I were to make a decision based on my emotions or on the availability of solid “reasons,” I would surely never go.

So when an opportunity for me to learn from some incredible people next month—for four and a half days, thousands of miles away (the kids will go to bed without me tucking them in for five nights; it literally makes me nauseous to type that)—I knew I couldn’t do it.

But just a tiny bit more than that, I knew I had to do it.

And so I told my husband about the opportunity. That was a huge step because, although it’s ultimately my choice, he rarely lets me bow out of things I truly want because of something as minor as insecure, wavering thinking.

I was right. As soon as I told him, he told me to stop being ridiculous and book the trip. Even though it means he’d be alone with two toddlers for four-and-a-half days, he said “It’s a no-brainer, book the trip.”

I can’t. I can. I can? Can I really? I couldn’t. I went on and on like that for the better part of an hour, while he lovingly said, “You’re a basket case; just book the trip already.”

That basket case state where you are honestly entertaining the flurry of competing thought and you’re completely unaware of the calm and clarity beneath the thought—that’s confusion.

Clarity

Although it still seems wrong on many levels, I booked the trip because something deeper and calmer tells me that the wrongness is narrow and subjective. Not just because my husband tells me it’s crazy, but because the wiser part of me sort of knew it was all along.

Why I feel conflicted couldn’t be less important.

I’m sure I felt abandoned as a kid and don’t want my kids to feel that way, or something along those lines. But it couldn’t matter less because what happened in the past is not the reason I feel the way I feel now. My current, in this moment thinking—and nothing else—is why I feel the way I feel now.

When I jump on the “Can I? I can’t. I can?” merry-go-round, I get whipped all over the place in a grand gesture of confusion and uncertainty.

But here’s the magical thing I found: when I stepped away from that merry-go-round, something else was there.

I want to be very clear about how that something else looked, felt, and sounded. It did not speak loudly—in fact, it was very easily drowned out by the “I can…I couldn’t” tug-of-war.

It was not an overwhelming feeling of conviction, and it certainly did not erase all my doubts and fears. The doubts and fears were—and are—still spinning.

Here’s the best way I can think to describe it:

If I were to pit the knowing voice that arose from the confusion against the confused voice, the knowing voice would be like me after eight hours of sleep and a good breakfast, and the confused voice would be like me with no sleep and a shot of tequila.

The former just feels a little more trustworthy, a little sounder, and a little more grounded. The latter is louder, more repetitive, and maybe even a little more passionate, but it lacks substance. I get the very clear sense that I might be better served by the former.

That’s how I know that the knowing voice was clarity.

Well, that and the fact that I know enough to recognize insecure, personal thinking by now.

I recognize the merry-go-round. I’m quite familiar with the feeling of jumping on board with flip-flopping, fast-moving, fear-rooted thoughts. And I definitely recognize the fast-talking, passionate-sounding voice that feels like me with no sleep and a little mind-altering substance.

I’m familiar enough to remember that when I stay grounded and off the merry-go-round, the thoughts eventually die down. They sometimes come back and rev back up, but then they simply die down again.

And when they finally die down enough—which tends to happen faster the more I stand back and let them do their thing—that knowing voice is still there. That voice is constant while the others aren’t.

Yet another sign that it’s my always-there clarity.

Multiple Versions of Reality

Since I’ve committed to going on the trip, it’s been really fascinating.

There are ways I can think about it that make me break out in a rash. When my mind creates images of my kids feeling abandoned, or when it creates feelings of those four-and-a-half days being the slowest….days….ever, I suffer.

But those images and feelings always fade at some point and I stop suffering.

There are also moments when my mind creates totally different images and feelings, and I feel enthusiastic and eager to go on the trip.

What has become very clear is that there are multiple versions of reality available to me at any given time.

Luckily, I know that. I know that even in the middle of an anxiety-provoked rash, I’m only experiencing my own very biased perception of events, not events themselves. This is especially obvious when I consider that I haven’t even gone on the trip yet. I haven’t been away from my kids, and yet I’ve suffered over being away from them. How crazy is that?

So, knowing that my suffering is only due to my current-moment version of reality helps a lot. It also helps a lot to remember that nearly every time I’ve been totally positive something will be a horrible experience—yet that tiny knowing voice suggests I do it anyway—it ends up not being so bad.

You can remember these things too, because I’d bet anything they are also true for you.

The more you learn to recognize your own knowing voice and distinguish it from the loud, repetitive, flip-flopping doubts, the more you naturally cut through what looks like confusion and simply do what you already know to do.

January 30, 2014
Change Your Life: Be Honest with Yourself and Make Conscious Choices

“If you do nothing unexpected, nothing unexpected happens.” ~Fay Weldon

During the last year I have made significant changes. I have changed my habits, values, thoughts, and perception of life. It has been an amazing journey and I have learned some valuable lessons that I want to share with you about happiness, motivation, and standing up for decisions you believe in.

I have always loved attention and I have always loved to party. In Denmark, it is not unusual that students drink two to three times a week, and I used to do that, as well.

Last year I went to Australia for six months to study and travel. I continued this insane habit of drinking, and sometimes we ended up drinking five to six times a week.

I started to realize the profound negative effects of drinking excessively.

Concentration became a challenge sometimes and I could feel my brain was slowing down. That made it harder to speak English (as a non-native speaker), and I was never motivated to work hard on anything. Furthermore, I sometimes felt stuck in an endless cycle of emptiness.

On October 31, 2012, I made a conscious decision that would change my life. I had been drinking for six days in a row and I decided to go for a walk one morning. I walked twenty kilometers in the most beautiful rain forest in Australia, thinking about what I wanted to do with my life.

I once read a quote that read, “Set a goal so big that if you achieved it, it would blow your mind.” I was trying to figure out what that goal was for me.

When I read that quote again I realized that I had the potential to live a far more dedicated and purposeful life. I wanted to realize my potential and become proud of who I was.

I decided that I would stop drinking alcohol for a year and I would do Ironman Copenhagen in 2013. I had never been on a road bike before, I did not know how to swim, and I had bad knees.

Despite the tiny chances of success, I had a desire to begin this adventure to become more and prove that I was capable of anything.

Making a conscious decision had a powerful impact on me and I was convinced that I could do it. After that, I started looking for ways to accomplish my goal and people that could help me.

I went to the swimming pool the following morning and approached the most experienced swimmer there.

I asked him for the best advice for a beginner, and after three months of intense training, I could swim. I sought advice everywhere and learned new lessons all the time. I was developing and my habits were changing for the better.

I was training six days a week, sometimes several times a day. When my friends were out partying, I was either training or resting. When my friends were running ten miles, I ran twenty. Everything I did was a reflection of my priority to reach my goal. Nothing was more important to me.

Even though I felt like snoozing in the morning, I refused and said “no.” Voices kept telling me to stay in bed but I didn’t ask their opinion anymore. Instead, I listened to the voice saying there was a reason I’d set my alarm in the first place.

I was out running ten miles on New Years Eve at three in the morning, and I felt a motivation that I had never felt before because I was moving toward a goal so challenging, and at the same time running away from the old me. I had a desire to become a better version of me.

On August 18, 2013, I crossed the finish line of Ironman Copenhagen in eleven hours and twenty-two minutes, finishing forty-three in my age group. I had been sober for ten months and I had never been in a better shape.

I experienced an increase in focus during those ten months, and I had never experienced that level of happiness before. The feeling of staying true to the decision I made felt amazing.

Twelve months ago I was capable of drinking a case of beer in eleven hours. Now, I was capable of swimming 3.8 kilometers, biking 180 kilometers, and running a marathon in the same period of time.

I developed from being a boy, depending on approval and attention from other people, to an Ironman, staying true to the decisions I made and being comfortable about taking my own path.

I have learned several important things about life over the past twelve months. Today I want to share the three most important lessons I learned:

1. Others will respect you for making your own choice—and you will respect yourself.

Going from drinking six times a week to training for an Ironman is a radical change. I had to give up some of the things I used to do. In addition to giving up alcohol, I had to decrease the number of social activities I attended.

In the beginning, I was scared that people wouldn’t accept my choice and would talk me out of it.

Some tried to do this, but most of my close friends supported me because they could see that I became happier pursuing this dream.

Others may accept you if you choose the usual way of life. However, people will respect you even more for making your own choices and sticking to them. More importantly, you will start to respect yourself more, as well.

2. Success is a choice.

I was nowhere near the shape of an Ironman when I decided to compete in one. I had never tried to ride a road bike before and I couldn’t swim. How did I accomplish this anyway?

I made a commitment to myself that no matter what I had to overcome in order to complete an Ironman, I would overcome it. I made sure that success was a choice and not a wish.

If you commit to seeing something through, you accept no excuses but only results. When people start giving up, you keep going!

Always remind yourself that with one step comes the decision to take another. Believe the voice that says you can run a little faster and work a little harder.

When we commit to do this, success is no longer a wish but a choice. Keep in mind that success is not equal to winning or being the best. You are the one who defines what it means. Regardless of what you achieve, waking up every morning and doing what you said you’d do can equal success.

3. Be honest with yourself.

After completing an Ironman I was convinced that every success starts with a conscious, honest decision. I made a conscious decision about doing it because I had an honest, deep desire to show myself that I was capable of anything.

Don’t fool yourself into pursuing goals that do not make sense to you. Chasing goals that align with your values and priorities is what brings happiness.

I always aim to keep in mind that motivation is like a fire within. If someone else tries to light that fire in you, chances are that it will burn briefly. When we are the ones to ignite that fire inside, we will experience more happiness and increased motivation.

You can only ignite that fire by being honest with yourself about what needs to change and which choices supports your values.

I experienced that something temporary can become permanent because we love our new situation more than the previous.

What I thought would be a year without alcohol is now becoming a more and more permanent choice. I did something unexpected and something unexpected happened. I changed from a boy to an Ironman.

Living a happy life is about taking responsibility and making conscious decisions. When are you going to change for the better? When are you going to experience more happiness? Start today.

Photo by fromthevalleys-

December 30, 2013
Following Your Internal Compass and Making Your Own Decisions

“Believe nothing no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and common sense.” ~Buddha

Dad, who at the time was a fighter pilot in the United States Marine Corps, taught me how to navigate using a compass. The family was on a vacation in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I was nine.

He got me up that morning before dawn. Mom made us a huge breakfast. I was so excited because I knew that day, I would climb my first mountain.

No, it wasn’t Mount Everest or even a huge mountain in Colorado, but for a kid who had spent most of his life in the flat lands of the eastern seaboard, the small mountain within eye-shot of the cabin was a monument of great proportions. I was pumped (even though that phrase didn’t exist in the sixties).

Once outside the cabin and on our way, Dad stopped for a moment. He looked down at me from above and handed me his engineering compass, which he had used during his Survival School Training. It was like being handed a bar of gold because before that day I was not allowed to touch it.

“Son, we are going to climb to the top of that mountain and you are going to get us there using this compass,” spoke Dad with a seriousness not to be ignored.

“But Dad…I don’t know how,” whined I to a smiling father.

Other than the fact that we made the climb safely, including an encounter with a black bear, I remember few things about that day, and I wish Dad was still alive so that I could refresh my cloudy mind. What I do know is this: I never feel lost, even to this day.

Sure, from time to time in life I feel confused about where I am or where I am going, but I never feel like I will not get where I am supposed to go.

With a compass—any compass—one can always pause for a moment in time and figure out where you are so that you can continue. All of us must change course from time to time because what is surrounding us is constantly changing.

To not flow with change will only invite disaster. Sure, you may not notice a difference at first, but if you fight that which does not wish to be fought, you will suffer in the end.

“What the heck are you talking about, dude?” you ask.

Beyond the obvious, what Dad was teaching me at the time did not take on meaning for many years. On the surface, knowing how to navigate with a compass at sea or on land will only come in handy if you are in a situation where most people would declare, “I am lost and my GPS is out of battery power.”

Beneath the obvious is an enormous lesson about independence and the ability to travel along one’s own path of life—a path which will never be a straight line, a path with many bends, hills, valleys, oceans of fog, storms, and dark forests.

The cool thing is this: you have a compass within your being. All of us do. Call it whatever you wish; this is your choice as a human. I have chosen and I call it my inner voice.

“Again, Frucci…huh? Please bring this home.”

Become immune to other people’s judgment. Their thoughts of you do not matter—this is truth. In fact, some will say that everyone is afraid of you, which is why they will lash out with negativity first.

Your internal compass is truth. The physical compass my father handed me that day when I was nine was truth.

The directions of a compass cannot be denied, and when you have faith that what direction you take based on what you see on the compass face is the correct one, you will arrive at the destination you are working toward. Even if you have to change course from time to time in order to go around an obstruction.

Your internal compass is the same, but you must listen to that voice and you must have faith in what you already have—an internal guidance system.

“How do you know this to be true?”

I cannot prove it anymore than anyone can prove the existence of anything unseen beyond a shadow of doubt. Only the individual can do that. I only know what I know, and what I know is this…

When I was in high school, my guidance counselor advised me to not apply to a certain university because I was a “C” student, and the only ones who were allowed to go there were much smarter than me.

He said with the smile of one who professes supreme knowledge, “Don’t waste your time and your money applying there because you will not get accepted.”

I heard his words, thought about them, and decided that I was not going to allow another person to dictate my future. My parents drove me to the campus of Carnegie Mellon University for a portfolio showing/interview with the Head of the Department of Architecture.

I took an exam and a few months later they accepted me, and not the straight “A” valedictorian of my high school class.

After graduating with honors in 1984 I went on to get my architecture license, working as an architect for over twenty years. The guidance counselor was flat out wrong.

How many people listen to the words of others who profess supreme knowledge? How many fellow humans allow their hopes and dreams to be squelched by people who do not know what is inside of them?

My internal compass was screaming at me from within—and I listened.

Choice. Yours is speaking to you now as you read these words. Sure, there have been times when I caved and listened to others—many times. And I can think of the disasters that followed from not listening to my voice.

Quiet your mind now for a moment and listen. What do you hear?

Remaining in the present moment, which flows with time, knowing the moment is not static, this is how one is able to hear clearly the voice within. What is your greatest challenge? Do something about it beginning now.

Of course we all can take the advice and counsel of others. I will always listen to the words of ones whom I respect. But the final say, the composite of all the words spoken, will be finally judged by that which is inside of me and on the terms of my personal compass.

Only you know you completely. No other human will ever come close. So why would you ever let another human decide anything for you?

It was my personal compass that guided me—the same compass that I still reference in the present moment of time, which flows, the same compass that will always guide me home.

December 5, 2013
You’re Not Behind; You’re Just on Your Own Path

“To wish you were someone else is to waste the person you are.” ~Sven Goran Eriksson

Endlessly comparing ourselves to others and idealizing their best qualities while underestimating our own are self-defeating behaviors, and they hurt our self-esteem. Yet in the competitive nature of our world, many of us do this.

As a result of my own self-defeating thoughts, throughout my life, I’ve repeatedly felt like I was five years behind where I “should” be.

After high school graduation, many of my peers went away to school and into a new wave of social experiences.

I stayed home, worked, and went to see a lot of bands play, and when I started gaining more life experience of my own, I felt like I was in catch-up mode and ashamed that I hadn’t gotten some of these experiences out of the way earlier.

I had a rocky college career, bouncing between, in, and out of schools, finally completing my English degree when I was twenty-five and feeling absolutely no further toward a career than I had before I’d started.

Attracted to web development because it offered the possibility of working remotely, I learned on the side and eventually landed a job at a small web shop. I was twenty-eight, but felt behind compared to those who had their career paths charted early on, and stacked resumes.

I decided to start freelancing with only one solid client and hoped that I’d be able to sustain myself enough to stay location independent.

After a few years of this, though I still loved the flexibility freelancing offered, I started feeling the need for my work to not only provide for myself, but to also contribute something positive to the world. Now in my mid thirties, I feel like I need to reevaluate again, but compared to others whom are solidifying relationships and buying property, I feel behind.

In the examples above, I’m comparing my path to others that aren’t my own.

If you can relate, try reframing these thoughts as a more accurate reflection of yourself and celebration of your own personal journey.

What did you want? Often when we compare ourselves to others, we are comparing ourselves to an ideal that might appear to be favored by society, media, or whatever, but it’s really not that interesting to us.

After high school, I remember distinctly not wanting to go away to school and thinking dorm life was a manufactured environment that didn’t represent real life. I wanted to hang out with my best friend and go see live music.

As I’ve become more self-aware, I’ve realized my anti-dorming position probably reflected my high levels of social anxiety and that the experience, though difficult at times, would have had a positive impact, though I would have probably missed a lot of awesome shows.

What you wanted from life then might not be what you want now, and that’s okay because throughout life, we change and gain insight. The decisions you made likely reflected where you were in life at that point. Maybe it was the “right” decision or maybe it wasn’t, but celebrate yourself either way.

Look at the positive side of your life path. Read between the lines and don’t focus on the negatives of what you didn’t do.

When I was fourteen, my father took me to England for a couple weeks and it left me with a lasting desire to enjoy traveling beyond the confines of the “paid time off” policies at many jobs in the United States.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of school, so it’s probably no surprise that while I bounced between academic institutions, I also spent some of that time period traveling abroad and hence, nurturing and developing a huge part of who I am.

Choices made to appease what you perceive others think you should be doing, rather than what nurtures you, are self-negating. And though they may seem like shortcuts, they will often not bring you any closer to fulfillment.

Focus on what your unique cocktail of nurture and nature enabled you to accomplish.

While others found their career path early, I was sweating inside the back of a 3,000-cubic-foot truck, working 5am merchandising shifts at a major retailer with a group of people that ended up feeling like a family, and I know I will stay in touch with some of them for the rest of my life.

The work felt honest and the people even better, and those are two of the most valuable things in life to me.

While others were sculpting their career, networking, and building relationships, spurred on by my earlier travels, I started to freelance and accomplished a lifelong dream of working remotely abroad.

I took an extended trip to Europe and two years later, did the same thing in South America. While my career development suffered most likely, accomplishing this goal was a priority, and I created memories that I will always cherish.

Take a moment and you can probably think about when you took a less traveled road and accomplished something beautiful.

Celebrate what you love about your personality and how those qualities have contributed to your life experience.

It’s easy to confuse what you want to work on with those qualities that you’re quite happy with.

If I go to a large social gathering, the introvert in me will spend time processing, observing, and taking everything in. I can be pretty quiet initially, but I’m okay with this because the attributes that make me identify as an introvert also have enabled me to form deep friendships, be sensitive to others and the world around me, and to feel on a very deep level.

At that same social gathering, I might be hanging out in a small group listening when I think of a relevant story that I’d love to share, but social anxiety renders me quiet because I’m afraid my storytelling will not hold their attention.

Introversion and social anxiety can sometimes be confused, but they are different concepts. Being introverted has enabled me to experience life in a unique way, but only social anxiety has held me back at times from participating in life like I want to.

Sometimes, two aspects of yourself produce similar symptoms. When you make the decision to work on a behavior, make sure that you’re targeting the right one.

—

I still catch my mind comparing myself to the ideals we are constantly subjected to by society and feeling like I will never catch up. But then I center myself and realize I’m comparing myself to an ideal that is not necessarily applicable to me, and that I need to stay true to my own path. Life is much more personal, complex, and nuanced.

Perhaps there are times when you feel five years behind. But really, you’re constantly learning about yourself and sculpting a life that is a reflection of that, and that’s exactly where you need to be.

Celebrate the path of others but most importantly, celebrate your own, because you’ve likely been living a pretty honest existence all along.

Photo by h.koppdelaney

November 20, 2013
Making Difficult Choices: 6 Helpful Tips

“You are your choices” ~Seneca

It was supposed to be the most beautiful day of my life. And on the surface of it, it most definitely was:

Delicious food? Check. Glorious sunshine? Check. Excited guests? Check. Radiantly happy couple? Umm…rain check?

I hadn’t chosen him. He had been chosen for me. I had agreed to the marriage without a doubt, but as I stared down at my henna-painted hands adorned with gold of the 24-carat nature, I felt poor. I felt cheated. I felt like the victim of my own decisions.

The heavy fog of doubt started to cloud over my heart. I cannot go through with this marriage.

I hadn’t even changed out of my wedding clothes, and yet I’d already made the decision to end my marriage. But how? It was clear to me that my family would not approve.

Their disappointment would only be the start. I would be disowned. I’d be shunned from the community and would be more alone than ever.

Or would I?

Despite being full of fear, I had to find the courage to take the first steps in starting the ending. I waited for the courage to come. I waited for quite some time. It didn’t arrive.

Courage is a combination of many things: perspective, introspection, relentlessness, intention. Courage comes after the act.

So instead, I pictured how my life would look 20 years later, in a marriage that had not flourished, after a decision that had not served me. The image of a life I didn’t want fueled the momentum toward what I did want.

And so it was up to me to take the first steps. I had made my choice. And that choice manifested itself in many life lessons that I apply to this very day.

Accounting for the perspective of everyone is paralyzing. We must own the choices we make. Boldness itself is a conscious choice. These tips may help you make it.

1. Feel present.

Yes, you have to deal with the consequences of your choices, but you cannot control what happens as events unfold. It likely won’t be anywhere near as bad as you worry it may be.

My family did not disown me. They supported me in ways I had only secretly imagined.

Focus on what you can control—what you do now.

2. Feel bold.

Once you make the decision, it’s made. Once you take, action, it’s done. Not everybody will agree with you. But you agree with you. And that’s a start.

3. Feel thankful.

I could have been living in a country where marriage laws were gender-biased, where my decision could have remained in my heart and not realized. But I was in a country where the law was on my side, irrelevant of my gender. I had an education; I had the freedom to choose. So many do not have the same opportunity.

4. Feel contagious.

That one bold move I made was not the only one in my life. That’s the thing with taking deliberate action; it becomes addictive. It bursts into other areas of your life—your job, your health, your relationships. It becomes a habit.

5. Feel united.

There is a difference between thinking you can do something alone and realizing you don’t have to. Those that loved me guided my heart. They held me when I was afraid. They strengthened me when I felt defeated.

Remember, you’re not alone with your choice.

6. Feel original.

Doing everything by the book isn’t always advised. Rules have been written for people who choose to follow them. Are you one of those people? Which rules are you going to challenge?

What you do defiantly today could impact the decision someone else makes tomorrow.

What audacious action are you willing to take? Big or small? Right now?

Photo by mrhayata

May 29, 2013
What To Do When You Don’t Know What to Do

“He who deliberates fully before taking a step will spend his entire life on one leg.” ~Chinese Proverb

Here’s the thing: I don’t know what to do.

About this thing, about that thing. About big things and small things.

About anything.

Actually, to be honest, even the smallest thing seems big when I don’t know what to do about it. The state of “not knowing what to do” is like some kind of Miracle Grow for small things in my mind.

This is not a new thing. Not knowing what to do is a particular and well-honed talent of mine. I can even juggle several not knowing what-to-dos at once.

For example, at the moment I don’t know whether to go away with my friends this weekend or not. And if I do will I take the train? Or get a lift?

I don’t know whether to take that new job. And if I do, when should I start it? What about all those other job offers that will flood through the door the minute I say yes to this one?

I don’t know whether to start the diet tomorrow. Or today. Or next week. Or not at all. I don’t know whether to call my counselor or ride this one out alone.

I don’t know what is best, what is right. I don’t know what I want to do.

Do you know what else I don’t know? I don’t know what to do about not knowing what to do.

And whenever I feel like this (which is not always, but often), I start not knowing what to do about things I did know what to do about before. Things I had already made decisions on, things I felt excited and sure about before, now feel wobbly and wrong. Even though I know the decisions felt right when I made them.

My brain starts questioning it all: What if I didn’t really know what to do then either, and just decided on something that wasn’t really the right thing to do after all? What if it turns out to be “wrong”? What if I acted on impulse and didn’t think it all through properly?

It’s like I’m mourning all the other possible options that will never, ever happen now because I didn’t choose them.

The little voice in my head chides me: If you choose option a, then such and such might happen, which could lead to x and then that may mean y. Had I known in the beginning about y, maybe I wouldn’t have chosen that original thing. Or would I? How do I know?

And this uncertainty, the worry, the anxiety, the not knowing, it isn’t picky. It doesn’t just stick to the thing I’m not sure about. It leaks. It seeps into everything else, so instead of feeling uncertain or anxious about one thing in particular, about one decision specifically, I feel anxious, uncertain, and worried full stop. I forget what started it. I just feel it.

I feel it in my chest, near my heart. In my throat. It feels like guilt, muddled with regret, with overtones of panic and an undercurrent of fear. It feels hard and cold, like a vice-like grip.

And I don’t like it. But I just don’t know what to do about it. So I do nothing. Except worry and be anxious that doing nothing is not the right thing to do. It’s exhausting, it’s frustrating, and it’s totally and utterly unproductive.

And the only thing that makes it stop? Is to just decide and do something. To just do anything.

And the only way to know what to do? Well actually, there is no answer to that one.

Other than to not worry about worrying. To not feel anxious about feeling anxious. To accept that there is no right answer.

To breathe. To try to feel beyond the worry, to try to feel the answer rather than (over) think it.

To stop trying to second-guess every possible outcome of every possible decision. To stop trying to control and account for every accountability. It just isn’t possible.

To trust.

I can’t know what will happen. I can’t know how I will feel about any of it. I can’t know whether the decision I make is any better or worse than any other decision I could have made because I am only ever going to experience the one path I do choose.

So I can only react with what I have, what I know, and how I feel, right here and right now. And I don’t need to know how to do that; I just need to do it. I just need to allow it to happen.

Back to my decisions. Well, I still don’t know what to do. I still don’t know what the “right” thing is.

But maybe that’s not so much of a problem after all.

Because I do know what the wrong thing is. And that’s to make no decision at all. Even if the decision I make is not to decide just yet—that is still a decision. Own it.

A friend once said to me, “Whenever the time is right, it will be the right time.” It helps me relax about my decisions.

I often wonder: Am I the only one like this? I don’t know that either, but if you’re with me:

Stop thinking it through. Stop making up what might happen. Because that’s what’s happening here, you’re just making it up. Just make the decision instead and enjoy the ride. Whatever it turns out to be, it doesn’t really matter—you can change it later if you really have to.

Whatever the decision is, just make it. What’s the worst that can happen, really?

Just make the decision and then be glad you did. Enjoy the freedom and the relief that follows.

Enjoy the present, indecision free. Because while you’re busy worrying about what might happen tomorrow, guess what? You’re missing out on all the great stuff happening today.

So just decide. Just relax.

Want to know the good news? The decision thing is just as leaky as the indecision thing.

Once I get going again, I know there’ll be no stopping me. I’ll breeze through decisions that floored me before. I’ll put those small things back in their place. And if it feels wrong, I’ll change it. I won’t worry about it. Things that felt a bit wrong and weird before just won’t matter anymore.

I won’t know where this whole confident, decision making thing came from. I’ll just feel it.

I’ll feel it in my chest, near my heart. It will feel like contentment, embracing joy, tickled with peace and flavored with lightness. It will feel soft and warm, like molten honey trickling through my veins. It will make me smile.

And I will love it. And I will do all I can to hold on to it.

That I do know.

So let’s just get started. Let’s just relax. Let’s just decide. And let’s never look back.

Photo by J. Tegnerud

May 9, 2013
Releasing Expectations: 4 Ways To Live Your Life for You

“He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away.” ~Raymond Hull

I tell people my 30s were for being married. This is a slight exaggeration, since I’m 39 now and single. However, I married at 30, divorced at 34, married again at 36, and divorced again at almost 39.

Both of the men were great guys. I meant well, each time. I went into each relationship with the intention I’d want to continue it.

Crap happens.

To many people this information is no big deal. I certainly didn’t think it was any big deal. However, I’ve been very surprised at how much judgment some people respond with when they learn I’ve been divorced twice.

There was the acquaintance who informed me it was okay to be divorced twice but that three times would be unacceptable (I guess to him?); there was the “friend” who informed me she didn’t want to hang out anymore because I did not “respect” marriage. (I heard from mutual friends she and her own husband split soon after.)

I’ve suspected that people who do respond with judgment do so, in part, because they expect a response from me that I do not offer. I am not ashamed, or embarrassed; I am not regretful, I have no excuses, and I am not blaming the men. I am simply stating a fact and owning it with great comfort.

My theory is that the judgers are uncomfortable because I do not meet their expectations of how I should live my life and how I should feel about my life experiences.

How often are we attempting to live up to the expectations of others without even realizing it?

Through self-questioning and introspection, we can learn a lot about ourselves, and if (or how much) we are unconsciously making decisions based on others’ expectations. Here are 4 suggestions of ways to do this:

1. Ask yourself, “What are the reasons I want this goal or made this decision?”

Sounds simple, right? Actually, it’s sometimes surprising how little we know about the reasons we’ve made the decisions we have. Dig in a little, be inquisitive, and ask follow-up questions to your initial questions. (more…)

April 1, 2013
Why You Have 43 More Choices That Matter in Life (or Not)

“Life is the sum of all your choices.” ~Albert Camus

Ever wondered what might have been?

Ever thought about where and who you’d be if only you’d done something differently, gone somewhere else, chosen something or someone else?

Probably so, if you’re like most.

But have you ever imagined where you might go and what you might still become, with the choices you yet have left?

My friends and I were hanging out not too long ago, before I moved away from them (totally escaping their awesome grasp) to start a new life of sorts in this surface-of-sun-like heat of Austin. (I’m not used to it yet, possibly because I’m convinced one of these days I’ll walk outside and spontaneously combust.)

Anyway, we were doing what we often do—making fun of the university we went to, when someone asked where else I could have gone. What other schools could I have chosen instead?

The question pretty much weirded me out right away.

I mean, it’s a reasonable question, I guess—except for the fact that I had never thought about it before. It’s like I had completely forgotten how close I was to having a very different life.

It seems I had only ever thought of whether I should have gone to college at all—not whether I should have gone somewhere else. For this odd reason it was a little unsettling (the next day, when I actually had the time to consider it).

It isn’t simply a question of the pros and cons of the different places I turned down and the one I ultimately chose, but of what my life would be now if I had done so.

Where would I be?

What would I be?

Who would I be?

And I didn’t like it. I realized the strange irony of it—sitting there joking with my friends about the school we went to. (more…)

June 26, 2012
Sometimes There Is No Right Way

“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.” ~Friedrich Nietzsche

I was raised in a home where a very common phrase was, “There’s a right way and a wrong way.”

The right way was the way my parents wanted things done. There were a great many rules surrounding the right way for nearly everything, in an attempt to ensure that we got it right, and, when the rules weren’t enough to enforce the rightness of our behavior, there were punishments, harsh words, and sometimes very public humiliation.

I’ve spent most of my adult life learning to deal with the fallout of this type of ingrained thinking, once important for emotional survival and physical safety, but no longer useful.

I work, now, to examine the precepts I live by, and whether they are helping me toward my goal of living a peaceful and conscious life. But there can still be some pretty huge blind spots in my view of things—places where I, myself, still expect those around me to conform to my concept of what is right.

Three years ago, when I began to practice the base principles of radical unschooling, I fell headlong into one of these traps. It caused a great deal of pain, and nearly cost me my oldest and dearest friend.

We altered the way in which we interacted with our children from an authoritarian style to a partnership model. And I decided I would be a missionary for every other family who showed a glimmer of dissension (as all families, even mine, do, sometimes).

I had found a piece that was missing from the puzzle of my own life, and I was awed by the rapid and wonderful changes I saw within my family once I placed it.

I hadn’t yet learned that zeal and epiphanies in our lives can also be pitfalls; that not everyone will benefit from what benefits us. I was certain my way was perfect and even necessary—for everyone. (more…)

May 7, 2012
Why Too Much Choice is Stressful and 7 Simple Ways to Limit It

“Every day brings a choice: to practice stress or to practice peace.” ~Joan Borysenko

When I bought my car, I visited only one showroom. I’d made the decision that this was the car for me in around one hour, and chose not to spend more hours or days of my time going from one place to another to check other deals and different cars.

If I hadn’t have found this car, I would have gone to another dealer. However, I’ll never know if I could have saved money by haggling elsewhere, and I don’t care.

I’ve had my trusty and reliable vehicle for over six years now and so far, I’ve never had to pay more than general maintenance and upkeep. So it was worth every penny.

You may be shocked that I made such a large and important purchase in this manner (and I’m not a wealthy person by any means). But I was confident it was a good deal when I found it and it’s never let me down.

I now make most of my purchases like this. I’ll give myself a single option (like shopping at just one store), or will limit them (such as browsing four vacation brochures instead of fifteen), and once I’m happy with the decision, I’ll stick with it.

Why? Because I think too much choice is stressful. And you can quite literally send yourself crazy with it, like I did.

Choice anxiety!

At one time, my need to “shop around” and my desire to keep options open before making decisions was bordering on obsessive. I dithered. I wore myself out. I got confused, and even anxious, when I needed to buy stuff, even if it was just a new winter coat. (more…)

February 7, 2012
On Tough Choices: How to Make Peace with Your Decision

“To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did.” ~Unknown

After four years, four months and seven days of a long distance relationship with a mountain guide (between my NYC apartment and Maine, northern New Hampshire, Jackson Hole, WY, and various other parts of mountainous America), I was at the end of my rope, so to speak.

Being slightly older than him, and much less capable of handling the gaps of two to five weeks between seeing each other, I suddenly felt a strong urge to move on. I was craving the next part of my life, whether with him, or without.

For months leading up to September 21st, 2011, I was constantly wanting more from him and blaming him when he couldn’t or wouldn’t give it. To me, “more” meant traveling more to see me, spending more time and arguing less when we were together (despite the immense amount of pressure I put on every visit), and communicating with me more often when we were apart.

Constantly terrified I would lose him, I was hanging on to something I wasn’t sure I wanted, or perhaps wanted for the wrong reasons. In my over-analysis of it all, I was becoming lonely, desperate, and depressed.

I was barely surviving the relationship, let alone thriving, which is what I really wanted. I couldn’t force the result I wanted, and I felt powerless. I figured it wasn’t meant to be.

But when we were together, it felt like we were.

Then I felt the crazy creeping in. (Yes, more than it already had.) At some point in the fog, it became clear to me that I was completely attached to a single outcome—that he would change his life to fit mine.

For years I felt like I had fit into his life (we started dating just a few weeks before I got laid off of my dream job). But what needed to happen was to create one life together. And in order to do that, I needed to get clear on what I wanted for my life, and for our future, because until I did, he would never be good enough. I later learned that acceptance is the first step to thriving with someone.

I started to look at the situation with objective eyes and realized what didn’t work for me and what did.

What didn’t work was seeing each other a total of three months out of the year. What worked was that he had chosen an adventurous and inspiring career, and I accepted that. What didn’t work was to be far away from a major city, specifically New York or Los Angeles, while still developing my music career. What did work was to live in the country only an hour and a half away from New York.

With this new self-awareness and clarity, I was able to pack up my car to go visit him in New Hampshire, and be okay with the fact it could be the last visit. I was ready to let him know my terms, where I was willing to be flexible, and where I knew I had to take care of myself. I was open to the fact that it may not work out. And in that openness, there was room to choose.

So besides packing up my things for the four-day visit, I packed up his things, from shirts to boxers to a pair of shoes to his rollerblades. (Yes, folks, the boy can rollerblade. He grew up on a river in Maine and ice skated all his life. It’s quite sexy actually.)

When I arrived in New Hampshire, we dove into a deep conversation about our future. For the first time, I was not telling him what I thought he wanted to hear. I was clear, I was powerful, and all the while, I was not making him wrong or blaming him for anything.

My communication came across clearly. We were able to create what a “day in the life of us” really looked like. After creating that, I cried. I had been so focused on how it wasn’t ever going to work that I wasn’t able to imagine the wonderful ways it could. (more…)

December 19, 2011
Becoming Ourselves: How Powerful Decisions Shape Who We Are

“Don’t be afraid to go out on a limb. That’s where the fruit is.” ~H. Jackson Browne

I decided to have a homebirth late in my first pregnancy, well into the third trimester. All through the first six months I flip-flopped back and forth, first buying into the message that hospitals were safe for births and homes were not, and then feeling profoundly certain that the best environment in which to have my baby was at home.

The truth is, before I was pregnant I hadn’t thought much about birth. I started my birthing journey wanting to be in charge of how things went, to stay clear of drugs and medical interventions, and to walk away from the experience changed in a positive way. I figured the place in which this happened was secondary, so a hospital might be just fine.

But many of my friends came home from their hospital births just the opposite; they were traumatized by how the experience was wrenched away from them, and took years building back their confidence and pride around birthing their babies. It was clear to me that I didn’t want a scenario like that.

Along with deciding what I didn’t want, I needed clarity about what I did want, and why I wanted it. I turned my questions inward, closing my ears to the cacophony of indecision, and worked the questions until finally an answer appeared.

I began to see this first birth as a way to step more fully into my power as a woman, and I was hungry for that. I wanted to reconnect to primal wisdom, and to tap into strength I suspected lay beneath the surface but hadn’t ever experienced.

I wanted a birth that was empowering, transformative, and authentically mine. I chose homebirth. I said yes while still not knowing with certainty what it might lie ahead for me; my decision required both clarity and a leap of faith.

Once I made the decision, I felt different in my skin. In standing up for what I now knew I wanted at a very deep level, I walked a bit more upright and spoke with more conviction. Having my baby at home turned out to be the most powerful choice of my life. (more…)

November 3, 2011
When (and When Not) to Take Advice

“Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.” ~Erica Jong

I’ve received all kinds of advice in my life, both welcome and unwelcome. Most of this advice is easy to divide into two piles: “good” or “bad.”

“Good” advice: when somebody makes a suggestion and I think, “Oh, of course!” It might be advice about how to improve a poem, or how to peel a mango. This kind of advice is easy to take.

“Bad” advice: when somebody makes a suggestion and I have a clear sense that I don’t agree with it. I might not respect their opinions, or I might know they have their own agenda which clashes with mine. I might understand their point of view but simply disagree with it. This kind of advice is easy to ignore.

Sometimes, it’s trickier.

A while ago decided I might change my career. I started the process of signing up for the three-year training I needed. Lots of my friends and family thought it was a great idea.

I asked one person’s advice—someone I admired a great deal, who cared a great deal about me. To my surprise, they said they didn’t think it was the right thing for me to be doing. They thought I was doing it to run away from a career that would be more risky, but more fulfilling.

I could understand why they gave me this advice. They’d had a risky career themselves, and they were invested in this having been the “right” decision for them. They were biased. I didn’t agree with their advice. I didn’t think it was about what was best for me.

Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It niggled at me. I continued applying for the training, and talking to other people about my new career choice. They were all supportive and encouraging. Why did it matter so much that this one person had given me the opposite advice?

Eventually, I sat down and reflected upon what this person was saying to me. (more…)

September 1, 2011