I’ve been in a contemplation for a few weeks now around the question, “What is going to be my greatest contribution?” Big one, huh? You could say this has been the question of my life. I sat in trees as a teenager weeping for the world (and my narcissistic teenage self, of course). My twenties were filled with opportunity taking and experience analysis. And now, here I am approaching my thirties, back to the root of it all. What am I going to do that is meaningful? What am I going to use my life for that will live up to the highest truths I know? These are big, profound, deep questions. They are tough; they evoke seriousness, and they ground me. To me, these questions are practical and necessary. I often have this vision of me chillin on my deathbed, and the feeling of dissatisfaction and unmet potential vibrates within my very much alive body. I wholeheartedly want to take my last breath knowing I gave it all, that I never held back.

So, on my quest to discovering the answer to this profound question, I found my mind on it’s typical path to discovery. It began shooting darts. Maybe I should dedicate myself to working with young girls and speaking at high schools and universities. Oh wait, I should design that new textbook I have an outline mocked up for. But, what about that documentary? Plus, I have a vision for Pushing Beauty that hasn’t manifested yet. Ideas are not the problem for me. They are limitless, exciting, and, sometimes, overwhelming.

Ideas and passion aren’t the problem, and they aren’t the answer. What I’ve realized is that the answer to my deepest calling isn’t a thing. It’s not an action step. It’s not a project I need to do or a business I need to create. That’s a given. That’s who I am, a creator. So, at the root of this comes the simple realization:

The greatest contribution I can give the world is to be me.

This will land on ears very differently, so hear me out. Once you start breaking down the ego things get very subtle. Obviousness begins to dissolve. Black and white fade into gray. Earlier this year I realized that I was essentially chasing an image of myself. Holy shit was that a shocker. Truly. It blew my mind in the coolest way imaginable because I realized that we can only use tools to understand ourselves to a certain point. So, I’m not going to give you any tools for this part because I don’t think there are any. I will tell you where I’m at and how I’ve gotten here. But, they aren’t really things you can actively do. You can’t try yourself into them. You can’t pretend. You have to recognize you are a process, and you have to be willing to see everything for what it really is. You have to want to see the truth, whatever it may be.

To know yourself means letting go of ideas.
It means being humble.
It means truly being humble.
It means realizing that we think we are things, good and bad, that we are not.
It means realizing that we are things, good and bad, that we don’t realize.
It means being willing to see those things in ourselves, good and bad.

These aren’t tools. You can’t humble yourself. Life humbles you. It makes you say, “Oh shit.” It leaves you speechless. It reminds you of what truly is. You can embody humility, but you can’t use a chainsaw to get there. You can’t force yourself to let go. It’s not as simple as jumping into oceans, speaking in front of people, ecstatic dancing, or screaming at the top of your lungs on a mountain. Those things are liberating, stimulating, and exciting. But, what I’m pointing to is subtle, subtle, and subltler. To face the truth of  yourself doesn’t mean that you can throw on some armor and be ready for it. It’s something you can’t really grasp. It’s something intangible. It’s a willingness, a readiness, somewhere deep down that is just a part of who you are. It’s awakening to yourself, embracing, and accepting yourself. Not the image of yourself, not who you think you are, but who you actually are.

So, to be me means that I’m going to do something meaningful. It means that the projects I work on, the things I choose to do, those things will be a reflection of who I am. If I pursue anything from an unstable foundation, from an image of myself instead of from who I authentically am, those things won’t be full of me. They will be contrived. They will leave me unfulfilled, unsatisfied in a deep way. I realize that I’m at a point in my life where I don’t need to know exactly what it is I am going to do because that definition will create limitations. I know this might sound like a contradiction because we also need to name things in order to begin them. Yet, at this point in my life I’m realizing paradoxes are ubiquitous. Opposites are all around us. The good and bad. It’s all beauty. It’s all got to be embraced.

So, to know who I am means that each thing I choose to do in life will be a reflection of that. I’ve always felt that there’s not one thing I’m going to do in this life, but many. And those many things all need to be from me, the real me. There’s something so deep in me that needs to come out. It’s always been there; I’ve always felt it. And it’s not going anywhere. I know that. So, I think the greatest contribution I can give this world is to know myself and to be myself. If I do that I can’t ever let myself down.

Photo Credit: Laria Saunders

I walked through my neighborhood the other night after a conversation that left me in an altered state of consciousness. I walk my dog through these streets every day for at least an hour, so it’s fair to say I’ve seen much of what is to be seen. But this night my entire neighborhood was new again.

Silverlake is a place that’s easy to appreciate, and I have. I admire the hidden streets that unexpectedly wind through the hills, the diverse structures that nest friendly neighbors, the succulents in front lawns, and the birds relentlessly chirping in the trees. But, this time it was different. It was flowing and present. There were no words paired to object. The geometrical pattern of the chimney seemed more intricate, but my mind didn’t perceive it to be more intricate. I just took it in a bit longer, a bit deeper. It wasn’t red, it wasn’t made of bricks- it wasn’t even a chimney.

Everything I saw, everything I heard, everything I sensed was just was what it was in that moment.

I didn’t  filter it through my conditioned perceptions to understand it. And in that sense I was truly seeing it for the first time; because each moment is always a first time.

The mind is a result of collective human effort. There is not your mind and my mind; it’s a human mind. It’s a collective human mind, organized and standardized through centuries. The values, the norms, the criteria are patterns of behavior organized by collective groups. There is nothing personal or private about them. We may close the doors to our rooms and feel that nobody knows our thoughts, but what we do in so-called privacy affects the lives around us. If we spend our days victimized by negative energies and negative thoughts, if we yield to depression, melancholia, and bitterness, these energies pollute the atmosphere. Where then is privacy? We need to learn, as a social responsibility, to look at the mind as something that has been created collectively and to recognize that our individual expressions are expressions of the human mind.

-Vimala Thakar

We hold our minds closely. We tuck our thoughts into the depths of our pockets, and we think they are private. We think no one else knows what goes on in there. We think no one else has a marching band of ninjas rocking pink leotards and causing chaos within their own walls. We’re shamed by the sometimes hateful, harmful, ugly thoughts gurgle to the surface, and we stomp them out one by one until we can rest again in silence. Sometimes a race car whizzes by loop after loop…after loop, after loop…and the driver sticks her head out after a few laps to spit on your membrane walls. Bastard. After that chaos we might ooo-la-la into a mental rendezvous with the sexy whoever. You get the point. Whatever it is that may occur inside that chamber of ours is our personal secret. We choose whether or not we share it with another soul, but we typically hide the truth from others and even ourselves.

We hold these mental activities so closely because we think they are us.

No. The mind is not who I am. The mind is not who you are. The mind is a tool. It’s a beautiful, amazing, awe-inspiring tool, a product of an evolutionary process. But, like Vimala says, it’s not my mind or your mind; it’s a human mind. I hope you’re sighing now. This is a big relief for humanity. It means we don’t have to hide. We don’t have to pretend to be perfect. We don’t have to pretend to not be crazy. There is no crazy because there is no normal. We are all experiencing the madness of the mind. Just look at your own experience; How many times have you been vulnerable with someone only to realize they’ve experienced the same thing you thought was so unique to you? We hide behind shame. What I really love about this quote is that it exposes us.

Now more than ever we need to be real. The world needs truth. We’ve got people doing reckless, awful things to one another. We need to understand the human mind more than ever before. This means we all need to stop pretending to be who we’re not. We need to recognize that what goes on in our mind is not personal. It’s been conditioned, and we are expressions of the history of humanity. Now, more than ever, the world needs you to be who you really are.

Photo Credit: Amy Edelstein

In my last post I talked about each moment being an opportunity. In this post I’m talking about what happens within that moment. Yes, each moment is an opportunity, but that opportunity won’t become anything significant if we don’t make a choice.

There is always a choice.

This is one of the most important revelations we can have in life. We always have a choice. They can be as seemingly insignificant as what we’ll eat for breakfast or as emotionally large as how we choose to respond in a disagreement with a loved one. Each of these moments require something of us. Typically we choose to respond based on how we happen to feel in a given moment. But, I’ve come to realize that my feelings shouldn’t be the basis upon which I make choices from. This creates inconsistent behavior and a weak foundation upon which to live life. When I say that each moment is an opportunity I mean it. But, we have to choose what we want in each moment and where we want to come from. It’s not enough to recognize we have to choose love in each moment. We have to actually choose love.

The recognition and the action are actually leaps from one another. One is passive and one is active. Of course, they go hand in hand; recognition is step one and step two is choice. The danger here is that we can slip into the belief that we’ve actually changed through recognition. But, we haven’t changed until we’ve actually changed. It’s not something you do in the future. It’s something you do right now.

Change right now. It’s possible, and when you do, you unleash the unlimited potentials that are inherent in each moment.

Photo Credit: Amy Edelstein

A stranger came into my life. He took his thumb and gently, but firmly, pushed it into my soul. He said many things to me. He said surprising things, some things that I didn’t agree with, and things that made me smile. But mostly he said things that made me think, made me question the way I think, and made me more than happy to have his challenge in my life. Recently he said this:

I realize that I have to commit to love again and again, until it is a natural rhythm in my life, like each breath. Each current moment is another chance to commit to love. Each past moment is already gone, and each future moment isn’t here yet. So I have to commit to love and healing in every moment of every day.

These beautiful and profound words relate to everything in life.

Each moment we have an opportunity.

Right now there is unlimited potential. In this very moment there is nothing but possibility. How often do we engage with the present in this way? It’s always here, right now. Yet we often engage with it as if it’s fixed. We tend to live for the next moment rather than the one that exists now.

Once we’ve woken up to this reality we have to decide what to choose. This is when we can see the conclusions that we’ve drawn about life and how they influence our choices. It’s one thing to recognize the potentiality, but what’s possibly even more important is what we are choosing in those moments and if we are even capable of making that choice.

Right now is an opportunity of unlimited potential. Anything can happen.

What do you choose?

Photo Credit: Amy Edelstein

I’m born into a world being told who I am. I am a girl. I am a girl with beautiful hair. My eyes are unique; they change colors to synch my attire. I’m deep, and I’m intense. I am passionate, and, yes, I’m a little strange. My family draws a sketch of who they think I am, and they keep the colors within their lines. My teachers say I’m smart. They say I’m a natural leader; I’m quick. My first boyfriend tells me I’m pretty, that I’m worthy of romantic love. He provides me with superficial self-confidence. My friends see me in the shape of the adviser, the shoulder, the one who is there. Some of the world around me says I’m artistic, and I think differently. I live outside the status quo, I take risks, I up and move. I create an image of myself through all of my encounters, all of my life experiences, all of my dreams and fears. I draw an outline of myself and spend all my energy keeping myself within those lines.

Then one day I scribble.

Whoa. I’m out here? But, I had no clue I’d even drawn any lines; I had no idea I was keeping myself contained. “But,” I thought, “I’m strong, independent, capable of anything…” Yes, but there’s a gap between being those things and projecting an image of those things. It’s a subtle, but profound distinction. Instead of chasing an image, I can just be me- me beyond the limitations of who others think I am and who I think I am. It’s a strange thing this chase is; I’ve dizzied myself up, expended my energy on running after a manifestation of my mind, and I didn’t even know I was running.

So, I stand still for a moment and decide to walk as myself, as who I really am and not who I think I am. It’s a process, but I can see more clearly, and I’m no longer out of breath.

The mind likes routine, and we’ve come to like it, too. Most of us have an outline, a framework in our minds, of what our day will be like. We’ve become so attached to this structure that we believe it to be the truth. We forget that it just might not go that way.

This relationship to life has left us increasingly closed off to the unknown, more predictable, and hidden from spontaneity, change, and humility. We’ve got it all figured out, we think. But…

A bird will poop on your head. Then what?

And what happens when the coffee bag is empty? How do we respond when there’s a line at the gas station making us 10 minutes late to an important meeting? What do we do when we simply need to drop a letter at the post office, but pull in to find an old lady clogging up the lot because she’s having trouble parking? Do we beep the horn? Do we roll our eyes? Do we take a deep breath when we feel tension rising? Do we even notice? Do we smile? Turn up the music and sing a little louder? Appreciate that we will hopefully be just as old one day? The question is: How do we choose to respond?

The way we respond is everything. It’s easy to go about life cheery when it’s all going your way. But, you can do all the planning in the world, you can try to control your life as much as you want, and still the baby will spit up on your new sweater, someone will key the words, “Thug Life” into your car, and a bird will poop on your head on your way to a hot date. These moments are reality checks; we are not too good for life.

This is a sign. It’s literally a sign, an ad, at a hospital for women. It’s also a clear indication of our cultural values and the type of shit we’re consciously and unconsciously shoving on the female psyche.

Through our doors a breast surgeon reconstructs a woman’s sense of self.

This sign isn’t just disturbing because it’s being displayed at a hospital, a place women are entrusting their lives, but also because it’s a message coating the feminine existence in America.

Women are breasts.
Women are sex.
Objects.
Women are lacy bras, heels showing off smooth legs, and just the right shape booty.
Women are long, silky hair, flawless skin, thick eyelashes, and pouty lips.
Women are hour glasses, smooth curves, and hips that talk.
Women are everything and nothing all at once.

This is our beauty.

So, when a woman wakes up one morning to discover cancer is attacking the sense of self our culture has shoved down her throat, how can she cope? In the very place she trusts with her life, she sees messages that propagate the same ideology seeping into every crevice of our culture: women are worthless without their sex appeal. Damn, what a culture for a woman to have to grow old in.

I vote we redefine physical beauty as providing the utmost care and well-being for whatever genetic vehicle we happen to inhabit. It’s not a tool to exploit or objectify. The human form is beautiful when treated with care; we don’t need to plump it, paint it, or suck it.

To blatantly reduce a woman’s sense of self to her physical attributes when she is fighting for her life is vomit-worthy.

Way to hit ‘em while they’re down, Brigham. This ad is so undeniably insensitive to the decisions a woman with breast cancer must go through. Of course, this ties into money and politics, and who are we to get in the way of a corporation making a little (or lotta) dough from a woman with a shit hand who needs to turn stumps back into lumps to feel worthy in our world? Because once we’ve got those babies, we’re all good. We’re women again. We’re whole. We’re complete. We know who we are.

Phew.

Cancer hasn’t beaten us, and we still get to have our breasts. It’s a win-win, right?

Photo Credit: Jackie Rose