"I'm better, thanks!"

It's been a year.  Imagine yourself, a classy, elegant lady, sitting quietly in the front of a classic convertible with a bench seat, being driven by a new handsome companion through the Santa Cruz mountains under blankets of trees, heading towards the coast. You've got a cute little sundress on, kept warm by a fitted little jacket, your carefully coiffed hair kept neatly in place by a silk scarf from a distant land, a precious souvenir brought home safe by someone you once loved.

You feel stifled, and roll the window down to get some fresh air, but find that's not enough. You push the button to put the top down just as your companion turns out of the trees and onto Hwy 1, the Pacific ahead in full view.  You tug off your jacket. You climb onto the back of the bench seat and sit, delicately yet confidently perched by graceful balance and strength.  As the car winds along the coast, you take in the awesome transparency and roar of the huge crashing waves, the smell of the salty air.  Your companion laughs with you.  You slip the scarf off your head, shake out your hair, throw your head back and open your arms wide to feel the warmth of the sun and the ocean air curse over your entire body. You gently wave the scarf and its dainty sequined edge in the air like a flag of freedom, its kaleidoscope of colors and sparkles shining in the sun, shadowing your view of the sun's rays for just a moment... and then your fingertips purposefully separate, and you let it go...

Instead of giving you that description, if you were to ask me how I feel today, I'd probably just say, "A lot better, thanks!" There's always more under the surface in those pleasant responses... :)

Where the Magic Happens

WOOSH!  Hockey stop.  "Ahhh, sh*t!"  I wasn't just looking ahead anymore, I was looking *down* a steep pitch.  My heart started beating fast, I could feel my hands start to sweat in my gloves.  I looked around.  I reasoned that I could scoot back about 20 feet, and keep going down the easier slope I'd gone down before, or I could just... go down this one - this crazy steep looking (to me!) monster in front of me.  I thought back to about 20 minutes prior to the complete yard sale I had managed to pull out smack dab in the middle of a run, conveniently under a chair loaded with snowboarders.  Skis and poles scattered fast, I punched myself in the boob, and I skid for quite a distance.  When I finally stopped moving, I heard laughter, and it wasn't from the folks hanging overhead - it was coming out of my own mouth.  I had survived that (and actually managed to enjoy it?), so this should be okay... Right?  Still, I was scared.

WOOSH!  Hockey stop next to me from some random dude.  "You okay?" he asked.  

"Yeahhhh, I'm just nervous.  This one isn't like all the other steeper stuff I've been doing today."  (I mean, seriously - this pitch was nothing like the others! Just when I was starting to feel like I was getting better, this jumps in the way. What kind of cruel trick was Breck pulling on me?!)

"I guess they don't call it 'Shocker' for nothing."  

"Uggggh.  But this is the fastest way to get where I need to go; I don't want to have to go back that way," I said as I looked back over my shoulder to the continuation of the 'easy' run that I'd veered away from.

"Well, I'm gonna take it slow. I can go down ahead of you a little bit if you want, and make sure you're okay," he offered while pointing with his pole.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks though!"

Off I went.  It felt like forever standing up on that edge, but in reality it probably only took about 20 seconds to make that decision.  I got to the bottom and turned around to look at what I'd managed to come down, and I gotta say: I was impressed with myself given my self-perceived limitations.  I'd just shattered them all by myself.  I thought back to my days literally c.r.a.w.l.i.n.g. down the Shirley runs, and thought, "I'd make those old Squaw runs my b*tch! Ah ha!"  My frozen chubby cheeks hurt from smiling so hard for the rest of the day, and I think I may have even puffed my chest a little bit.  I accepted a pole tap from Mr. Random Dude when he got down, and then took off to take another lift and run to meet my friends for a midday celebratory cocktail. 

Later, I went after a part of the mountain that someone told me was "scary," suggesting I couldn't do it.  And then I went back and did Shocker a few more times, just to prove to myself that it wasn't a fluke.  I'm still faaaarrrr from being an expert, and still slow compared to nearly all my buddies... but damn, it felt good.

Stepping out of my comfort zone just that one time, on that one edge, carried over for the rest of the trip.  The next day at Vail, our group made its way to the back bowls in blizzard conditions.  I'm a self-proclaimed princess, fair-weather skier who doesn't enjoy white-outs; I'm a blue bird kind of girl... or so I thought.  I blindly followed (literally, I couldn't see), and next thing I knew, I found myself in knee-deep powder (I thought I hated powder, turns out I don't!), freezing my toes and cheeks off, taking face shots and narrowly avoiding hitting trees through "glades" (at very slow speeds, don't you worry).  I ended the day completely spent and yet giddy and high on life.  

The next day at Keystone, I was one of three lone rangers who were hell bent on getting as much time on the mountains as possible (and a variety at that).  I looked at the map solely for purposes of figuring out which lifts would get me to the Outback, but paid no mind as to what was blue (love) versus black (still scary), groomed (love) versus moguled out (hate), etc., like I normally would have.  I just... went with it.  I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to encounter, and I had THE BEST TIME EVER.  Admittedly, I am pretty sure I have the Colorado snow to thank for my stellar time, but I still expect (hope?) I'll keep this fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants skiing up next time I hit up a Tahoe resort.

Why is this blog-worthy, you ask?  Well, skiing is just one (albeit huge) example of who I am now compared to who I used to be.  See, once upon a time, I was a girl who played it safe - in every way.  I resisted change and the unknown; I lived inside the box; I preferred the tried and true.  I preferred someone else lead so I could simply follow, and I wouldn't go after something unless it was a certainty.  As such, I never had to buy any risk.  Because I always knew what to expect, it was safe, it was comfortable.  Life was easy.  I was never challenged, scared, uncertain, vulnerable.  And you know what?  I was BORED (oh, God... so bored!) out of my ever-loving mind and, in retrospect, leading a pretty unfulfilling life.  I will *never* let myself get back to that place.    

Slowly over time, I grew up and evolved into who I am now: the gal with gumption who seeks adventures of all sorts.  Like Rome, I wasn't built in a day.  It was a slow process - baby steps of trying new things, challenging my personal status quo and letting go of former rules, and truly enjoying every minute of it.  I can't quite pinpoint when it all came to fruition, but when a friend challenged me to be the kayaker in her Eppie's Great Race team 10 days before the race when I'd never even kayaked before (I wasn't even sure I knew what they looked like - a canoe?), and the idea of "going through rapids" in a kayak, by myself, surrounded by people determined to beat me to the finish (they might poke me out of the way with a paddle and make me drown!), scared the sh*t out of me... and instead of laughing in her face, I accepted her challenge and did it, and despite getting stuck in a whirlpool had one of the best times of my life (at that point)... that's when I knew I'd truly changed.  That was the first time that it all just... clicked. 

Since then, I've stepped out of my comfort zone time and time again - from obvious physical feats, mental challenges, and professional endeavors, to being open and honest with my heart (that is, wearing it on my sleeve), spontaneous trips without a map or knowing if I have a place to stay, or something as simple as trying some crazy new food, and everything in between.  Some of those things I'm fairly certain you'd roll your eyes at, as they're really not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things.  But to me, each instance has produced great results simply because it's made me a little bit more excited about living this awesome life and what other awesomeness lies ahead... and it's each time I ski that I'm reminded of just that. That's why I love it so much! 

I guess the whole point I'm trying to make though is this:  Nobody ever feels 100% ready when an opportunity arises - whether that be facing a steep ski pitch, a potential promotion, a fledgling relationship, getting a dog or having a baby, buying a home, you get the idea - because most great opportunities in life force us to grow beyond our comfort zones, which means we won't feel comfortable at first.  Discomfort is necessary.  An otherwise strong and confident person actually needs moments of uncertainty and vulnerability to feel alive, to lead a fulfilling life, and to be truly happy.  It's where the magic happens.  Why not go out on a limb?  That's where the best fruit is.  I think, anyway (and Mark Twain agrees).

"You know, sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage.  

Just literally, 20 seconds of just embarrassing bravery, and I promise you, 

something great will come of it." 

In short, I've been doing my best to live by this philosophy as of late - and not just with skiing. Not even close. I've been living with insane courage. Potentially embarrassing bravery. I've really just... pushed the envelope. Put it out there. Shot from the hip. Dropped in. I hope I have the opportunity to do it again, and again, and again, because damn, it feels good.

The results aren't available for every risk I've taken, and until they are, I'll have to savor delicious uncertainty.  But if this past weekend is any indication, yard sales are often followed by some pretty sweet stoke.

Get after it, folks!

xoxo

God and the SuperBaugh

While sitting in L.A. traffic this morning, I tuned in to Kevin and Bean on KROQ (one of the few things I miss about LA).  In light of the upcoming SuperBaugh hype (that is, the Harbaugh brothers facing off as coaches in SuperBowl XLVII), my favorite radio dudes were talking about a survey about people's views of football.  The survey asked a random sample of 1,033 adults a bunch of questions about the NFL.  Most of the responses aren't all that surprising or even remotely interesting (Lots of people watch football! Even more people watch the Super Bowl! Wow! Breaking news! Where's Brian Williams when you need him?!), but two specific questions and results are worth highlighting.

Perhaps the most shocking is that 27 percent of those polled - more than a quarter - believe that "God plays a role in determining which team wins a sporting event." This means that if you're watching a game with three of your buddies, odds are that one of you wholeheartedly believes that God has a vested interest in the outcome of the game, and will influence it to get His way. This could really throw off Vegas's lines, and next year's fantasy football leagues, don'tchathink?

There's more.  You know how athletes, in postgame interviews, often thank God?  They believe God is specifically looking out for them and their health and made them win the game over the other team, and a majority of Americans agree.  According to the survey, 53 percent of respondents believe that "God rewards athletes who have faith with good health and success." 

As they pontificated the significance of the survey's results, some lady called in to the show.  She said that God has already chosen who the victor will be, and that He may change his mind, but that the players' destinies are already predetermined based on who has the most faith, and that it is the most righteous men who will be successful on the field - every time.  When Kevin asked her, "What about BYU? They suck at football, and they're like the most God-like guys around?", she answered: "They must not be. They must be truly evil inside, and just pretending to be good on the outside."  I'm sorry, but - WHAT?

Really?  How does any of this make any sense?  Do these people really think that God created a game of two teams, and then, what, picked sides?  And made it so?  You know, I am a woman of a very strong faith, but even still, I could play devil's advocate and rationally and analytically tear apart the theory that whoever wins the SuperBowl (or the outcome of any event, really, especially where there is a "loser" or someone harmed) was decided by God. As an incredibly brief glimpse into that narrative, I offer you this:  If we are all equal in the eyes of God, if we are all children of God, if God loves us all the same, *and* if our destinies on- and off- the field are in fact preordained by God, then why are our actions here on Earth determinative of whether we go to heaven or hell?  Does this mean God decides before or at birth where you're going in the after life, if there is one?  Wouldn't that make us versions of pre-programmed robots, or chess pieces, at best?  

Or do we control our own personal growth, our spirit, our destinies through our thoughts and actions?

Now, I was born and raised to be a good little Catholic girl, and I grew up with the fear of God strongly instilled in me (does he look like Zeus in your mind, too?), but I refuse to believe that anyone has 100% control over the path I follow, even God. (And that's NOT because I was subsequently kicked out of Catholic school... that, too, was the result of my own choices.)  God is benevolent and loving, and walks with me and advises and nudges and inspires me me in a particular direction that He sure as shit hopes I will go, because He loves me and wants what's best for me.  But at the end of the day, I am a human borne of free will.  I am capable of virtue or sin or a combination of the two, by my choice.  I just typed that sentence of my own accord, He didn't.  In fact, the fact that I'm typing this at all proves as much, because God, if as powerful as that 27% believe, controls all, well then He wouldn't let anyone besmirch His prowess this way.  Right?

Nah, if God created football, then in my mind's eye he created the game and threw his hands in the air and said, "I'm out, kids! Y'all figure it out, I'm fixin' to see how y'all handle this fiasco I've created. This will be your test. From this, you will grow and fulfill your destiny, win or lose."  Then he'd sit back with his Bud Light and boneless hot wings (my God drinks, that's why there's the sweet nectar called “sparkling wine”) and enjoy the game.  He wouldn't root for one team (his children) over another (also his children) - who would his home team be, anyway?? - or control the Refs.  While it does seem miraculous that the victor of these athletic final feats have their team-specific "CHAMPIONS!" hats and jerseys and other paraphernalia on their persons within seconds of the clock reaching 0:00 and long before the confetti has even settled on the field or Erin Andrews has shoved a mic in their face, God doesn't control who wins.  The guys on the field do.  I think, anyway.  Neither they nor we are pawns.  Our actions either honor God, or they don't.  Our actions decide where we end up on the board, or on the field. 

Let me take this further.  I think believing that your future is completely preordained by God, that is to the non-religious folks, that it's all the result of fate, makes you lazy.  What's the point of living, of facing life's challenges and triumphs, if it's already laid out for you?  If there's nothing to be learned?  If there's no growth to be had? 

My faith in the Lord runs deep, but this spiritual journey I'm on is never ending.  I am not married to everything the church has laid out for me. Rather, I see the bigger picture in what scripture tells us, and also balance that with science. While it's true that energy is never lost, and that for every action there is a reaction, "everything happens for a reason" is simply a lame excuse to not have to deal with the tougher questions and realities of life and faith and the interconnectedness of every action, of every person to every other person, of every bit of energy out there.  So when things don't go our way, some immediately use this excuse instead of taking ownership of their mistakes, tweaking their actions or thoughts, or simply trying harder.  Instead, some immediately quit, thinking it "wasn't meant to be," instead of thinking they had some semblance of control over the outcome.  How… sad.

I recently found myself in a professional situation that didn't appear as though it would go my way, and at first I was tempted to say to myself, "Oh well, everything happens for a reason; it wasn't in God's plan."  But then I stopped myself and said, "NO. Screw this! I want this, and I'm going harder after it, if it's going to happen it's going to happen because I make it happen, not because I just believed that it would eventually miraculously happen; I'm going to BE STRONG and WORK HARD," and guess what? It worked!  Obviously, I won't always get the outcome I desire, no matter how much I desire or pray for it, but I think it's a lot more productive to believe that we have some modicum of control over how our lives evolve.  And it's only if we have that control are we able to take pride in how we’ve grown, what we’ve overcome, what we’ve accomplished, what we’ve made of ourselves.  If our fate it out of our hands, what’s the point?  Where does happiness come from?  It really does come from within, right?  From reaping the rewards of our hard work, right?  Right.

I think that as long as people try to make the best of their life at a particular moment (by looking for and learning from the lessons each situation does in fact present), it will lead them to the right path for them, and to a happier life. We are all going to do what we do. While I do believe that God has a plan and purpose for each of us, and I do believe in a special type of "magic," and that it would be "nice" if I could just sit back and wait for all the good stuff to happen to me without putting any effort in (that is, let fate take its course), I just really don't think that's the way the universe works. I can easily change my mind and make a right turn instead of a left turn without being chased by bad guys in fedoras like Matt Damon encountered in The Adjustment Bureau.  I believe relying on "God's plan" or fate is a lazy excuse to rest on your laurels.  It's also a really messed up thing to believe when really messed up things happen to good people.  You can't control what other people do, they control what they do, and you can come up with excuses all day for what they do.  But do you really want to make YOUR life just another excuse?  Or do you want to take what's handed to you and have a choice in how you receive it and handle it?  Don't you want your life to mean more than a predetermined road map?

Now, I realize that in The Perfect Ponytail Paradox, I recently talked about how sometimes things don't go as planned, but actually work out for the better in the long run.  Some of you may throw the whole, "See, everything DOES happen for a reason!" line at me with that one, claiming that how things have turned out was fate working its magic.  But the two really aren't inconsistent: PPP involves acceptance of things that happen, whereas this involves acknowledgment that you have some control over those things, or at least how you respond to them.  I really do believe that in the end, things do work out the way they should.  But at the same time, “a river cuts through a rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.” ~ Jim Watkins.

Anyway, it's getting late.  I suspect I might edit this later, once the NyQuil wears off.  I really am a little drunk right now.  Just keep in mind that on Sunday, more than one-in-four of your fellow Americans will go to bed convinced that whichever team raised the Lombardi Trophy only won because God willed it.  I, on the other hand, am going to choose to believe that the better team (that day) won.

Go Niners!

xoxo