I read an article that summarized a recent Pew Research study. It said that, if given the option to undergo medical procedures to slow the aging process, allowing them to live to 120, 56 percent of folks said, "Nah." I am not in that group. In fact, hell, stall it down to 200. The study goes on to say that the average life expectancy in the U.S. is 78.7. And, you know what? That sucks. Here's why.
At 34, I feel like I am finally getting a handle on life. I barreled through my 20's, and it wasn't until my 30's that I really got acquianted with and dealt with all (well most) of my shit. And despite the perhaps late arrival, I feel like everything unfurled as it should have. I am genuinely happy. This is good. This is actually wonderful.
But let's do some math for a moment. For the sake of simplicity and my poor math skills, I shall round up. Let's say the average life expectancy is 80. And let's say I'm 40. What is that? Half. It's half done. And that's why it sucks. Stop and think about that. Your life may be half over. I guess this is why people have mid-life crises. That realization coupled with the fact that we don't feel a day over 16 is enough to drive anyone to get tattoos and motorcycles and do 80 down the highway to feel the wind in their face and feel alive. I mean, I won't because motorcycles scare me. Maybe I will just go running...really fast. (You know, most cells in your body live and die and turn over. The neurons in your brain do not. The ones that you're born with are the same ones you have today. It's been said that this could be why we never feel as old as we really are...the human brain does most of its development in the first 20 years of life.)
Aging is kind of graceful, but it's kind of a bitch. While I am happy, as I just said, I look in the mirror and I see all of the white hair that I have accepted as part of myself now. Well, until I gather up another $200 to head to the salon. I see the wrinkles beginning to show. And it seems that my desire to settle down before the white hair and wrinkles took over has gone out the window. But again, that's okay. I'm just not okay with it being kind of, sort of, half over.
So anyway, I've been tossing this around in my brain. Trying to figure out what it means. Trying to figure out how to make work life better. Trying to figure out if 30 is in fact, the new 20. Sitting on the subway tonight I heard two girls talking. At first I thought they were in their early 20's. But after listening to them for awhile I question that assessment. But here's the kicker:
"So my uncle, well my ex-uncle trained for a marathon. He was 40 when he started training. But the marathon really screwed up his back. Well, I mean, he was old anyway."
The universe pays attention to your thoughts. And sometimes it throws them right in your face and fucks with you. But it's all good. I still love you universe. Those girls, not so much.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 22, 2013
I Lost Savasana
No matter how crazy my day (or mind) has been, after a yoga class, I can deeply relax and let go in savasana. In fact, I can't actually recall any time that I've struggled with it. Last week I even fell asleep and woke myself up because I was snoring. (I know what you're thinking, "Man, that girl sounds SEXY!") But yesterday, that sense of calm I love so much was nowhere to be found.
The past few days I've just been feeling run down, overwhelmed with my growing list of to-do's, and just life in general. I think a lot of it is stemming from an underlying sense of dread, like a fault line, as October wears on and we head into the winter. It was around this time last year that all hell broke loose in my life—the hurricane and grandma's fall, my car getting hit three times, my car breaking down, the abscess, the relationship loss, and ultimately losing Grams.
Sunday was her birthday. Our first without her. I pictured the day in my mind as one of reflection and mourning. But, I was so busy, I just kind of plowed through it, until late that night when I walked down to the pier to the place where I had taken one of my favorite pictures of her. And it hit me like a truck.
I have been, by far, a different person since January, and part of that is really being able to appreciate all of the good in my life. (Just look at how stoked I was to go pumpkin picking!) I think these emotional "setbacks," when it comes to Grams anyways, serve to remind me not only what a wonderful woman she was, but also all of the little promises I made myself in her honor. They provide time for reflection and an opportunity to check in and slow down, which is so greatly needed sometimes.
I thought yoga and meditation last night would do the trick. But, at the end of class, I was restless. And any sense of quiet I was feeling was shattered by a girl in class shouting across the room immediately after the final OM. The meditation class that followed seemed to be buzzing with energy instead of grounding down. Things were just a bit off.
Yesterday I was reading a short lecture on how so many people try to avoid pain to stay comfortable in their lives. But if you level off pain, you also level off happiness. You have to let yourself feel both to really live. "The sweet is never as sweet without the sour." Take the pain, breathe into it, and feel it. It will pass. Just remember to breathe.
The past few days I've just been feeling run down, overwhelmed with my growing list of to-do's, and just life in general. I think a lot of it is stemming from an underlying sense of dread, like a fault line, as October wears on and we head into the winter. It was around this time last year that all hell broke loose in my life—the hurricane and grandma's fall, my car getting hit three times, my car breaking down, the abscess, the relationship loss, and ultimately losing Grams.
Sunday was her birthday. Our first without her. I pictured the day in my mind as one of reflection and mourning. But, I was so busy, I just kind of plowed through it, until late that night when I walked down to the pier to the place where I had taken one of my favorite pictures of her. And it hit me like a truck.
I have been, by far, a different person since January, and part of that is really being able to appreciate all of the good in my life. (Just look at how stoked I was to go pumpkin picking!) I think these emotional "setbacks," when it comes to Grams anyways, serve to remind me not only what a wonderful woman she was, but also all of the little promises I made myself in her honor. They provide time for reflection and an opportunity to check in and slow down, which is so greatly needed sometimes.
I thought yoga and meditation last night would do the trick. But, at the end of class, I was restless. And any sense of quiet I was feeling was shattered by a girl in class shouting across the room immediately after the final OM. The meditation class that followed seemed to be buzzing with energy instead of grounding down. Things were just a bit off.
Yesterday I was reading a short lecture on how so many people try to avoid pain to stay comfortable in their lives. But if you level off pain, you also level off happiness. You have to let yourself feel both to really live. "The sweet is never as sweet without the sour." Take the pain, breathe into it, and feel it. It will pass. Just remember to breathe.
Oct 14, 2013
Alstede Farms (Plaid Shirt Days)
It's crazy how much teacher training has kicked my brain into high gear. Well, I guess it's always been in high gear, but it's sort of redirecting the energy into some more consistency, a bit more appreciation and thoughtfulness, and a large chunk of random things that seem to come from way out of nowhere. I guess it's mixing it up and laying it out—like brownie batter I suppose. Mix it up; lay it out in a pan to bake.
I lost my point (which may be the point). ANYWAYS. I think that with learning to meditate comes a desire to be able to focus on the present moment in every day life, but at the same time, it comes with finding connections and being grateful for what is in front of you.
Today is a gorgeous fall day. The light is amazing and you couldn't ask for better weather. I cashed in a personal day and headed out to a farm this morning with a friend. I think it's rare that life hands you people that you connect with instantly, for whatever reason, and on whatever level. And it's crazy sometimes to think of how you got there. Someone liked my photo on Instagram not even two months ago and today we're out driving an hour to go get a pumpkin. And just driving in the car with the windows open and music playing and being able to either talk about whatever or just sit there in silence taking it all in—it's all enough, and it's wonderful. Plus, I got to see some goats. So there's that.
I lost my point (which may be the point). ANYWAYS. I think that with learning to meditate comes a desire to be able to focus on the present moment in every day life, but at the same time, it comes with finding connections and being grateful for what is in front of you.
Today is a gorgeous fall day. The light is amazing and you couldn't ask for better weather. I cashed in a personal day and headed out to a farm this morning with a friend. I think it's rare that life hands you people that you connect with instantly, for whatever reason, and on whatever level. And it's crazy sometimes to think of how you got there. Someone liked my photo on Instagram not even two months ago and today we're out driving an hour to go get a pumpkin. And just driving in the car with the windows open and music playing and being able to either talk about whatever or just sit there in silence taking it all in—it's all enough, and it's wonderful. Plus, I got to see some goats. So there's that.
Oct 5, 2013
I'm Gonna Eat You, Clementine
It's the second full weekend of yoga teacher training. Today focused on the koshas and meditation. There were a lot of great takeaways and tons of interesting information given out. But I'm so tired right now I don't think I can process any of it properly, let alone explain it here.
So instead, I will tell you about clementine. I ate my first clementine today. (What??? You've never had a clementine? No, I haven't. Get over it, I did.) Before eating said clementine, we closed our eyes and felt the texture and the shape of the little guy. We pictured its journey from where ever it grew up. (To me it was California because I don't know where clementines come from. But I'm pretty sure it's not Clifton, New Jersey.) We pictured the worker who picked the fruit, the tree that it came from, and at the other end, the worker who rang up little clementine at the counter. We smelled it.
Why? The point was to first, give us an example of meditation, the second to show that things do not exist in isolation. About halfway through the meditation, I had envisioned the entire life of this little clementine, and when I started to think, "I'm going to eat you, clementine," I felt a little bad. I mean, the two of us have just spent so much time together. We bonded Clem and I. This is how his little life ends? For a second I even considered becoming a vegetarian, because if I just bonded with a piece of fruit, how could I eat meat? But then I remembered I love meat. I also remembered I hadn't eaten anything yet today and little Clem was likely delicious.
And he was. Thank you little clementine for existing so that I may have a light afternoon snack just before realizing I was the only one at the table who knew Sting practices tantric sex. I mean, I thought that was fairly common knowledge. Hell, it's even in a Barenaked Ladies song.
Maybe tomorrow I'll have something of substance to write about.
Goodnight Internet.
So instead, I will tell you about clementine. I ate my first clementine today. (What??? You've never had a clementine? No, I haven't. Get over it, I did.) Before eating said clementine, we closed our eyes and felt the texture and the shape of the little guy. We pictured its journey from where ever it grew up. (To me it was California because I don't know where clementines come from. But I'm pretty sure it's not Clifton, New Jersey.) We pictured the worker who picked the fruit, the tree that it came from, and at the other end, the worker who rang up little clementine at the counter. We smelled it.
Why? The point was to first, give us an example of meditation, the second to show that things do not exist in isolation. About halfway through the meditation, I had envisioned the entire life of this little clementine, and when I started to think, "I'm going to eat you, clementine," I felt a little bad. I mean, the two of us have just spent so much time together. We bonded Clem and I. This is how his little life ends? For a second I even considered becoming a vegetarian, because if I just bonded with a piece of fruit, how could I eat meat? But then I remembered I love meat. I also remembered I hadn't eaten anything yet today and little Clem was likely delicious.
And he was. Thank you little clementine for existing so that I may have a light afternoon snack just before realizing I was the only one at the table who knew Sting practices tantric sex. I mean, I thought that was fairly common knowledge. Hell, it's even in a Barenaked Ladies song.
Maybe tomorrow I'll have something of substance to write about.
Goodnight Internet.
Oct 2, 2013
I'm at a Loss Here, Fellas
"Science now tells us that if you put 24 jams out instead of six jams for people in a grocery store, people will buy less jam. The presentation of too many jams may lead people to believe that somewhere, out there, exists the perfect jam."
This was from an article that talked about pretty much the same thing I'm going to, but believe me, I didn't steal it because I also mentioned it back in 2010 after reading an interview with John Mayer (you know the one, where he called Jessica Simpson a sex bomb or whatever), in which he pretty much said the same thing as the above and as Katherine Fritz in her Huffington Post blog. So, I mean, my point is really, what the fuck?
I moved to Hoboken four years ago and thought it'd be funny to maintain a dating blog. A funny little story here, a "wow I can't believe I met that guy," a "hey, can you believe he did this?!" But you know what? I've had a funny little story, I've definitely met that guy (I reference you to the vagina man), and hey, can you believe I dated a guy that picked up a girl in front of me after a year? Or how about the guy where it all fell apart because I didn't like sushi, a week after burying Grams? (Clearly, not the full reason but that was the launchpad. Poor timing kid. You know who you are.) And you know what? After four years, it's not funny anymore. I'm not laughing. (Insert very stoic emoticon here.)
Say you meet a guy. He's incredibly handsome, but doesn't seem to realize it. He's smart, funny, and you two just talk for hours on end—a few days in a row. You think, well, experience tells me I should likely not get excited here. But you do, because you think, well, something has to stick at some point, right? Don't be negative, this guy has nothing to do with that other guy. Enjoy it! So, you do. But, actually, it turns out, this guy is kind of like that guy that was super into you for six weeks, until he texted you at 6 a.m. on a Saturday to say he "just can't do this." So again, I ask, what the fuck?
Does it really come down to a numbers game? For instance, was aforementioned Guy A or Guy B just walking down Washington Street and saw someone who perhaps was three inches taller, or had bigger/smaller boobs (whatever your preference), or maybe had shorter hair? At what point can you get excited about someone? (Well, in reality, I'm probably always going to get excited, because what fun is life if you don't enjoy the ride? No fun. That's the answer to that question.)
Granted, I'm not as worked up as this blog post would lead you to believe. Frustrated and a little over caffeinated, perhaps. I have awesome friends. I'm doing really cool things, like yoga school, traveling, and raising money for the American Brain Tumor Association. (I think this may be the most links I've ever inserted into a blog post. And maybe even the most parenthetical references. But, I digress.) It'd be cool though to, at some point, have someone say that I'm awesome and have them stick around long enough to see just how true that statement is. I have a big heart boys. You're missing out.
This was from an article that talked about pretty much the same thing I'm going to, but believe me, I didn't steal it because I also mentioned it back in 2010 after reading an interview with John Mayer (you know the one, where he called Jessica Simpson a sex bomb or whatever), in which he pretty much said the same thing as the above and as Katherine Fritz in her Huffington Post blog. So, I mean, my point is really, what the fuck?
I moved to Hoboken four years ago and thought it'd be funny to maintain a dating blog. A funny little story here, a "wow I can't believe I met that guy," a "hey, can you believe he did this?!" But you know what? I've had a funny little story, I've definitely met that guy (I reference you to the vagina man), and hey, can you believe I dated a guy that picked up a girl in front of me after a year? Or how about the guy where it all fell apart because I didn't like sushi, a week after burying Grams? (Clearly, not the full reason but that was the launchpad. Poor timing kid. You know who you are.) And you know what? After four years, it's not funny anymore. I'm not laughing. (Insert very stoic emoticon here.)
Say you meet a guy. He's incredibly handsome, but doesn't seem to realize it. He's smart, funny, and you two just talk for hours on end—a few days in a row. You think, well, experience tells me I should likely not get excited here. But you do, because you think, well, something has to stick at some point, right? Don't be negative, this guy has nothing to do with that other guy. Enjoy it! So, you do. But, actually, it turns out, this guy is kind of like that guy that was super into you for six weeks, until he texted you at 6 a.m. on a Saturday to say he "just can't do this." So again, I ask, what the fuck?
Does it really come down to a numbers game? For instance, was aforementioned Guy A or Guy B just walking down Washington Street and saw someone who perhaps was three inches taller, or had bigger/smaller boobs (whatever your preference), or maybe had shorter hair? At what point can you get excited about someone? (Well, in reality, I'm probably always going to get excited, because what fun is life if you don't enjoy the ride? No fun. That's the answer to that question.)
Granted, I'm not as worked up as this blog post would lead you to believe. Frustrated and a little over caffeinated, perhaps. I have awesome friends. I'm doing really cool things, like yoga school, traveling, and raising money for the American Brain Tumor Association. (I think this may be the most links I've ever inserted into a blog post. And maybe even the most parenthetical references. But, I digress.) It'd be cool though to, at some point, have someone say that I'm awesome and have them stick around long enough to see just how true that statement is. I have a big heart boys. You're missing out.
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