In 2017 I have…

It’s been a year, hasn’t it, friends?

These past months have been crowded and stressful, both in the world and in my own life. But they’ve also held beauty and laughter and joy. Here’s my annual (long but non-comprehensive) list of what has happened this year.

In 2017, I have:

• marked two years at the Kennedy School and four (and a half) years at Harvard, and weathered an unbelievably turbulent fall here.
• walked over nearly every inch of Cambridge, by myself and often with a dear friend.
• taken numerous photos of flowers, many of them on said walks.
• made countless trips to Darwin’s for nourishment: chai, Earl Grey, scones, sandwiches, English muffins, and the warm welcome I always find there.

• spent a long October weekend introducing my parents to New York City.
• returned to PEI with the hubs for our third blissful stretch of days there.
• spent a week wandering Oxford, city of my heart.
• tried my first boot camp workout – a six-week series taught by my favorite yoga instructor – and loved it.
• surprised myself by taking up running.
• run my first 5K (in the snow!).
• moved (again) and settled into our new apartment, a lovely third-floor eyrie in Dorchester.
• fallen in love with the river trail near our house.

• logged a lot of hours doing yoga.
• read 149 books and reviewed 50 of them for Shelf Awareness.
• written a couple of final reviews for Great New Books and bid farewell to the site.
• flown to Texas for a late spring visit with my family.
• interviewed Alice Hoffman (and a couple of other authors) for Shelf Awareness.
• followed magic – my one little word – to some unexpected places.
• taken two winter trips to NYC.

• gone on a few weekend escapes with the hubs: a Florida beach, a wee Connecticut town, the Maine woods.
• spoken (once) and listened (on many days) at Morning Prayers at Memorial Church.
• done a lot of church work, as ever: sending emails, organizing events, reading Scripture, washing dishes.
• learned a thing or two about protesting.
• marked nine years of marriage.
• helped my best friends pack up their apartment, and sent them on their way to Idaho with many tears.
• finished paying off our little silver car (we call her Adele).
• celebrated my eighth (!) Turkeypalooza with church friends.
• filled up half a dozen journals.

I’m looking forward to turning the calendar on 2018: I love the idea of a fresh start, but there’s also some good stuff I want to carry over from 2017. Wishing you a peaceful, hopeful start to the New Year.

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Saving my life: honest grace edition.

December has arrived – suddenly, it seems. My neighbors are putting up twinkle lights, and the church sanctuary is full of pine garland, poinsettias and cyclamen. We began Advent on Sunday with the aching melody of “O Come O Come Emmanuel,” and I’m slowly setting out the Christmas decorations and turning back to the words of hope in my Advent book.

Alongside all of that, it is dark. So dark.

Not only does the sun slip below the horizon as I’m finishing my workdays, but the news out of Washington and elsewhere is (still) so disheartening. I have friends who are grieving, weary, afraid. I am struggling with heartbreak, change, loss, fear. I know so many people who are waiting: for test results or resolution or even the tiniest scrap of good news.

In the midst of the darkness (literal and metaphorical), I know there are pinpricks of light, even when I can’t see them. In an effort to remind myself of this fact, I thought it was time for another list of what’s saving my life now:

• Laurie Sheck’s poem “The Annunciation,” where I found the phrase “honest grace.” Kathleen Norris mentions it in her essay “Annunciation,” and I finally looked it up after meaning to do so for years.
• Seeing birds’ nests in the bare trees and thinking of Lindsey.
• Tulips for my desk and the weekly chat with my florist, who is the dearest man.
• Bracing, practical, sarcastic advice from a writer colleague.
• I say this every single day: Darwin’s. The ritual of walking down there; the delicious drinks and nourishing food; the familiar rhythm of the place; and most of all, the warmth from my café people.

• Laughter with my coworkers, whenever and however it comes.
• Morning Prayers at Mem Church, which is wrapping up for the fall: thoughtful words, lovely music, the ritual of repeating the Lord’s Prayer and singing (often sight-reading) the daily hymns.
• Texts from a few friends who are my lifelines.
• The return of my winter uniform: striped dress + black leggings (fleece-lined when I need them) + ankle boots + scarf + magic green coat.
• Weekly phone calls with my parents and looking forward to Christmas together.
• Twinkle lights wrapped around anything.
• Susannah Conway’s lovely December Reflections project on Instagram.
• Walking and sometimes running on the river trail: on bold blue weekend afternoons or under dark weeknight skies after work.
• In my ears on those walks and at other times: the Wailin’ Jennys and Hamilton. An odd mix, but it’s working for me.

• Sunrises seen from the kitchen window: fiery orange over the treetops, or blue with silver-streaked clouds.
• Yoga on my green mat at home (even 10 minutes can help) or at Healing Tree.
• The boot camp I’m doing on Monday nights, taught by my favorite yoga instructor. So fun and empowering.
• Slapdash huevos rancheros after said workout, every Monday night.
• My morning routine: snooze button + hot shower + sunrise gazing + tea in a purple travel mug + scone eaten en route to the trolley stop.
• Takeout from our favorite Indian place and a few hilarious episodes of Modern Family with the hubs.
• Putting the world to rights over paella and wine with a girlfriend.
• The words that have carried me over many months.

What is saving your life these days? Please share, if you like.

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Yoga in the morning

I mentioned last week that this is the summer of yoga in the morning – a short (15- or 30-minute) session with my Yoga Studio app almost every day. I get up (after hitting snooze a time or two), put in my contacts, get a drink of water, and unroll my green yoga mat in my dining room, often stepping onto it still in my pajamas.

I am about the farthest thing from a gym rat. I don’t love to sweat and I don’t care for most exercise classes, the exception being the yoga class I attend at a local studio almost every Monday night. But I’ve long thought that I should cultivate a habit of exercising more often than once a week. As Gretchen Rubin says, “What you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while.”

Yoga (at least the way I do it) is a gentle form of exercise that still gives me a chance to push myself. I like trying new poses, and I’m not as terrified of them as I once was. (This is largely due to my instructor, Meredith, and her gentle, no-nonsense encouragement as we bend and stretch and attempt new poses together.) I nearly killed myself attempting a quad stretch during pigeon pose last month – but I can now hold a crow pose (!) for a few seconds without falling. Progress.

I also like the way yoga makes me feel: stretchy, like a rubber band; strong, when I’m able to hold a lunge or a squat or a push-up (also known as warrior, chair and chaturanga poses). I like the way it helps to clear my head, the way it gently nudges me to focus on my body, here in the moment, and breathe. And when Ali Edwards mentioned this app on her blog back in January, I thought I’d give it a go.

The key for me with morning yoga (as in so many areas of my life) is progress, not perfection. Or, alternatively, it’s simply showing up, and doing the work. I tend to beat myself up for not doing “enough” or not doing things “the right way,” but the wise words of my first yoga instructor, McKay, still reverberate in my head: There is no judgment or competition in yoga. It is difficult, but vital, to remember for a perfectionist like me.

This daily yoga isn’t magic: there are some mornings I don’t want to get on the mat, and some mornings I skip altogether. It doesn’t always defuse my tension or calm my racing brain. But it frequently does. And that pocket of peace in the early morning – as the sunshine slants in across the wood floor, amid the crowded bookshelves in the center of our apartment – is enough.

Do you practice yoga, or another form of exercise? How do you find it benefits you?

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Winter Manifesto update

Back in early January, I posted my Winter Manifesto – a list of (mostly) fun things to help me through my fourth New England winter. Here, an update (with photos):

• Go to the U.S. Figure Skating Championships. We watched the ladies’ free skate, above. It was gorgeous, heartbreaking and so much fun.
• Get a massage, and go to the dentist. I had to get several fillings, but I’m glad I finally went. And the massage was very relaxing.
• Continue with the yoga routine I’ve established. Holding steady on this one.

• Go see the Celtics play at TD Garden, courtesy of a friend. We sat in the 12th row behind one of the baskets (see above). I am not a huge basketball fan, but watching the action up close was so fun.
• Watch the Olympics. We’ve cheered at the figure skating, gasped at the skeleton and the ski jumping, and gotten a crash course in slopestyle. Most of all I love the stories.
• Knit something cozy. I’ve knitted several cozy things (for myself and others), mostly in red.

• Tackle another hefty classic. (I’ve been working on a big library stack. Still taking recommendations!)
• Indulge in a bit of color therapy. I’ve knitted myself a bright pink hat and a jade green cowl, and ordered a couple of fun items from Boden.
• Plan some springtime travel. The hubs and I are headed to San Diego next month to see our friends Allison and Duncan, former New Yorkers who’ve moved back to their home state. And I’m heading to Texas in April, first for a work conference and then to see my family.

I find it a bit ironic that the reading goal above is the only one I haven’t tackled – but I’m proud of myself for accomplishing the other ones. Now, if only spring would hurry up a bit…

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Guest Post: Sitting in the Other Chair

(Editor’s Note: My husband, Jeremiah, offered to guest post for me about a recent eye-opening experience, which dovetails nicely with yesterday’s post on being seen. Enjoy!)

I have one of the best jobs in the world. Because I’m a family therapist, people invite me into their homes to dream with them, listen to them, help empower them to change their lives. I witness forgiveness, empathy and healing with couples of all ages and situations. I identify the strengths of teenage guys and participate in their passions; I have one teenage client I dance with, another who’s teaching me to draw, and another who plays basketball with me.

My job is also incredibly humbling. Why anyone would trust their secrets, pasts and traumas to a 20-something is beyond me. And I ask many things of my clients that I wouldn’t do myself.

For example, I’m working with a recovering alcoholic who decided last week to write down his guilt and fears each night, put them in a balloon, and send them heavenward. One of my new clients this week blamed her boyfriend for refusing to come to therapy; by the end of the hour, she was encountering questions like “What happens when you’re not in a relationship?” and staring down loneliness. If anyone, professional or otherwise, intruded that deeply into my life after knowing me for an hour, I’d be furious.

I joined a gym this week, and as a new client, I consulted with a fitness specialist about my health goals. We began by discussing my previous experience with gyms, then building a workout plan to motivate me to hit the gym consistently.

The specialist then asked about my diet. I admitted to eating one too many McDonalds/Wendy’s cheeseburgers recently, and made excuses for eating only two meals a day. Sometimes I see eight clients back to back with breaks only for driving, which means I skip lunch regularly, but I’ve always been insecure about eating too much because I’m afraid of becoming overweight. Not that I told the specialist that —after all, he’d only known me for 20 minutes.

The specialist then measured my body fat percentage (embarrassing) and had me do several exercises. I completed the first one, which involved staying in an upright pushup position for 90 seconds, but my core started burning about halfway through. I didn’t give up, but he wasn’t fooled, saying, “I saw you struggle with that.” Few people ever see me struggle, and even fewer get to call me out on it.

Finally, he asked about my posture: a back injury from a car wreck and sitting in a chair for eight hours a day have done no favors to my spinal column.

After learning about my physical faults, the secrets I’m unwilling to share and the emotional scars I cover up with excuses and fake smiles, he still wanted to work with me. He was honest, explaining that change wouldn’t happen overnight—in fact, I think his estimate of cutting my body fat percentage in half, losing 10 pounds and adding muscle tone in just five months of consistent healthy eating and gym usage, was a bit generous.

As I listened to him talk, I realized: This is my therapy. This is me putting myself in the other chair, letting someone listen to and take care of me for an hour each week. And it’s something I need. When my trainer asks, “What kept you from meeting your diet goals this week?” I’ll either have to avoid the question, deflect it with a simple, universal answer like “laziness,” or confront my deep insecurities. I hope to be encouraged, challenged and empowered to make my life better.

What are some traditional and non-traditional therapy experiences you’ve had? How did you overcome the initial fear of releasing your secrets and insecurities to your therapist/trainer/guide?

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Confessions of a yoga skeptic

Prior to the Integrate Retreat in April, my experience with yoga was limited. I’d had a few sessions as part of an aerobics class in college, and a couple of disastrous DVD rentals from the library. (It is JUST impossible for me to take seriously a woman named Rainbeau Mars who keeps exhorting you to “enjoy your breath.”) I had pretty much given up on yoga. I thought it wasn’t for me.

During our time together in New York, we had a private yoga session with Jennifer Brilliant – just the 10 of us, in her beautiful coral-walled studio, with a sun on one wall and a moon on the other. (It, like our B&B, is a converted brownstone on a lovely street.) And I enjoyed it so much more than I expected to. I was a bit clueless, and it was a workout, but it felt gentle and purposeful, more about listening to your body than trying to force it into unnatural positions.

Two days after I got back from the retreat, Amanda emailed me about a local yoga class – taught at the Center for Contemporary Arts, downtown, by the lovely McKay Moore. I decided to try it out (for $6 a class, well worth the risk), and oh my. I LOVE it. I’ve been going every week (and I think I’ve even converted Jeremiah – he’s been with me twice now).

“There is no judgment or competition in yoga,” McKay said last week, and I’ve been coming back to that sentence over and over in my head. No judgment or competition. No pressure to be better, stronger, faster (in yoga, speed has very little value) than anyone else. This isn’t gym class or a race or a contest to see who can do the best pose. It’s all about engaging your muscles, letting go of your tension and stress, working your body while treating it gently. And of course, the soothing music and the sweet, encouraging instructor are a big plus.

So is the setting. Who wouldn’t want to do yoga here?

This is our “studio” – the upper gallery of the Center for Contemporary Arts. And it’s quickly becoming one of my favorite places and times of the week. It’s becoming a way for me to check in with my body, to become aware of tension and let some of it go, to exercise and relax at the same time. I don’t have to look at the clock or push myself too hard or figure out what comes next. I can just listen to McKay, follow her lead as we go through the poses, relax onto my green mat, and breathe.

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