What's Your Average?

I am in an entrepreneurial class this semester (which, by the way, is my excuse for tardy posts). This class is perfect timing as my sister and I are starting a small, all-natural body product company. Sharing ideas, creativity, and a partnership is a very fulfilling experience.

One of the guest lecturers in my class this week spoke about the importance of partnership and that so much of our life success depends on it. Our character, intelligence, and motivation, he said, is largely contingent on the kinds of people we surround ourselves with. In fact, research shows that we are the average of the five people we interact with the most. Like water will do for rock, those in our immediate circle will shape us. They affect our attitude, opinions, and experiences. And they either add or detract from our happiness.

As important as it is to surround ourselves with amazing, elevated people, it is equally as important to be that person for others. Each time we speak to someone, we have the opportunity to leave them more confident, inspired, and joyful than when we found them. Their life can be better simply because we were in it—for five seconds or fifty years.

So here's to increasing the average.

The Magnolias

This Fall, my sister Morgan had her first child—a daughter named Magnolia. Each niece or nephew in our family has their own playful flavor. But something about my sister's pregnancy and birth changed me. Almost like a twin, I wanted to experience everything along side her. When the baby moved or she couldn't fit into her clothes, I wanted to know. When she found out the gender, opened every baby gift, or put the final touches on her room, I wanted to see. And now that Magnolia is here, I am equally fascinated with her awkwardly short arms, her buddha belly, her yawns, and her milk-drunk stares.

If there was ever a moment in my life where I've wondered if God exists, it isn't now. There is a layer to life that is deep, omnipotent, and spiritual. The Magnolias of the world create a tangible feeling of love, and it helps us feel close to the people we cannot see and the God about whom we wonder. With her too comes the opportunity to grow alongside her. Grow into a mother, a caring aunt, a steady father, a good person, a better contributor to the world.

One day Nola will be a mother, then a grandmother. And hopefully I will too. We are part of a powerful circle that has more weight and purpose than we realize, and we are all part of something grander than ourselves.

A Tradition

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I can't let this week pass without gratitude for this past year and its many gorgeous moments. Truth be told, there was some roughness in it. I remember a few days of hardcore tears and nights where I'd lay in bed wondering what in THE world I was doing with my life. Still, I love it all, and I carry around a profound appreciation for every second my eyes are open and I am alive. Life is a roller coaster, and I am thankful that my Creator allows me to keep riding.

I am grateful for…

1.   People's oddities—the good and the weird. People who dance awkwardly from the hips in a bath towel, who point their index finger a lot for emphasis, who look at you through the bottom of their bifocals, who get lost going somewhere they've been a hundred times, who can't stand having grass in their shoes, who are convinced every piece of meat is undercooked.

2.   Moments when people surprise you, when they do something so bold or so extremely kind that it wakes you up to life's purpose. And moments when you surprise yourself and do the same. 

3.   Friends who will sleep at your house during a windstorm because you are a scared pansy.

4.   A song that so perfectly fits your mood and elevates your soul, you can't help but listen to it for hours on end.

5.   Babies who lay on your chest and fall asleep to your heartbeat.

6.   Pears and the weeks they are in season.

7.   People who have the courage to look at you in the eyes for a few seconds longer than is usual.

8.   The nerve to take a chance on a new idea, without knowing how it will all work out.

9.   People who make you laugh so hard you have to cross your legs, for people who take the time to make happiness seep out of you.

10. The very real and very important moments when you love yourself and are proud of your authentic, ballsy life.

To Becoming

Last year I wrote about the lost art of accepting compliments. Since then, my friends and I remind each other to gracefully accept the kind things people say to us. A few weeks ago, a friend mentioned that he also struggles accepting compliments, often because they feel too finite: you are a great soccer player, you are very smart, you are kind, you are very handsome. To him, it sounded like he'd already achieved each of these things, which he didn't think was completely true. Knowing that self-talk is critical to success, he developed the habit of putting "becoming" before each compliment he gives himself: I am becoming a great soccer player, I am becoming a kind person. Instead of adding a little sugar to make the medicine go down, he adds a little medicine to make the sugar more believable.

Many of us struggle with this. Because we are not at the finish line, but also no longer at the start, we forego giving ourselves much needed credit for all that we've accomplished. We only see the areas where we still need to improve and the length of the path left to walk. Maybe our compliments should be more like our lives then—in motion and in progress. By adding "becoming" to each thing we want to believe about ourselves, we satisfy the part of us that needs encouragement to keep going and the part that needs to feel the deficit so we'll continue working hard.

So here's to living in the becoming—the fabulous gray area that celebrates who we once were and who we one day hope to be.

Living in the Why

In one of my classes this month, my professor touched on a subject that had a profound effect on me. She drew three circles inside of each other (visualize a dart board). On the outside circle, she wrote "what"; on the middle circle, she wrote "how"; on the inside-most circle, she wrote "why." Each circle represents a different level of depth and significance that we use to approach experiences and people. Sadly, most people never make it into the smallest circle. In fact, we rarely scratch the surface of the most interesting parts of life.

Question: What did you do today? Answer: I went trail running. Question: What do you do for a living? Answer: I work in publishing. Interesting conversation? Maybe. Question: How did you go trail running? Answer: I drove to Millcreek canyon and started running down the Pipeline trail with two girlfriends. Question: How do you publish books? Answer: Our authors write in a proprietary software that allows us to do many things with their content, like make eBooks. Better? A little. Question: Why do you trail run? Answer: I run on trails because, when I'm outside, I feel like my mind starts breathing. I feel calm, and I empty out the clutter and white noise I was carrying with me. Question: Why do you work in publishing? Answer: Because I love to see other people's ideas formulate. I enjoy seeing the books I help create on someone's book shelf, worn and being used. More interesting?

I am starting to discover that the depth of our experiences and the richness of people is found in the why. It's the question and the answers that really matter. They are the questions we should ask life itself (Why is what I'm doing meaningful to me? Why am I spending my time on x, y, and z?) and the questions we should regularly ask ourselves (Why do I want the things I want? Why do I think the way I do?). Here we find purpose. Here we come to know ourselves. Because, in the end, the people around us don't buy what we do, they buy why we do it. To live with passion, to make others around us passionate about us, we need to push past the what and past the how. We need to start with the why.

Here's to living in the why. It's a much more interesting place. 

Sky Splitters

I have known for weeks that I am very sadly behind. I have also know what I've wanted to write about. But it wasn't until I was in bed last night, struck with a particular line of a poem, that I knew I needed to put this experience to pen. Almost a month ago, someone anonymously paid my graduate tuition for Fall semester, a sum of which is 20% of my entire program cost. Overwhelmed, I did my best to find out who this individual was. And I did. In reaching out to thank her, I found someone largely uncomfortable with my knowing and who responded, genuinely, that she'd been blessed with a good life and, seeing something special in me, had wanted to help.

Over the last few weeks, I've thought a lot about this moment. As someone whose life is based on a belief in God and that the good I do is a reflection of the good He has done for me, I was in awe knowing that my benefactor, someone who I've had a few spiritual conversations with, does not necessarily share these beliefs. Instead, every good deed she does, every kindness that she anonymously gives, comes from a deep goodness inside of her. Her unfettered desire to give, with no expectation of reward in this life or the next, humbled me.

In the words of Edna St. Vincent Millay, "the soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through." So here's to a woman who split the sky on my behalf.

Good Intentions

We are living in a world of rapid-fire communication. I can text from my phone, my home computer, or my work computer (a recent happiness of mine). We email and send FaceBook messages; we can call, FaceTime, or Skype. The possibilities are endless. Still, I can't help but notice that despite all of these avenues, we so often misunderstand the people around us or are left feeling like we're on completely different pages.

I read something recently that resonated with me. Someone said that the source of most misunderstandings is that we judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions. How true this is. Knowing my own heart, I know (and assume others know) that I do not say things with the hope of hurting or belittling anyone. To most of us, this would be unthinkable. But when it comes to evaluating what other people say, we often question their motive or meaning, convinced that things aren't plain or in good spirit. Sure there may be those few people who intentionally jab at us, but they are likely far and few between. More often than not, we let ourselves become hurt or irritated simply because we don't assume in others what we automatically assume in ourselves: good intentions.

So maybe it is time to return to an old-fashioned and faith-based principle, one that would save ourselves a bit of grief. To always believe the best in others.