To really live


“Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question . . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.”

– Carlos Castaneda

Scroll to the bottom and read– good message.

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Being 25


I found this post a while ago and since then, I probably read it at least once a week. It really resonates with me and I find it just absolutely beautiful. Read it…you won’t be sorry.

Being 25
Written by Bohemia and Bull

Being 25.

Some days I get frustrated. I look forward at the woman I’m bound to become — you know, the one who’s achieved all my dreams. She’s given birth, she teaches yoga, she’s refinished her home with vintage finds and copious amounts of elbow grease, and she owns her own business, oh yeah, she’s also madly in love — and guess what, this love actually lasted more than two years…most days, she honestly believes it is a forever.
And then I look around, at a living room that’s honestly still not even unpacked and I moved here 8 months ago. At my body that once again, skipped out on yoga class today. At my time, and how it seems that approximately 800% of it is spent on a company owned by someone else — their dream. And as for that everlasting love, well, I’m really not even convinced that it exists. Thinking of it hurts with a depth I can’t even begin to explore.
This isn’t me having a breakdown — that happened a few weeks ago. I walked to the end of the beach in the most beautiful place I’ve ever known, sat down on a big black volcanic boulder, and in my neon pink swimsuit, I cried. Without a soul in sight but the sky stretching for miles and miles until it hit the sea, I sat there and cried like I haven’t cried since I found out my best friend was moving across the country when I was 9. For over an hour, until my face was utterly ruined and my voice was hoarse.
I’m not really sure what came over me, just a good old fashioned dose of unadulterated fear. The kind of fear where you think about life and you think about death. You think of all the times you haven’t called home, all the phone calls you forgot to return, all the friendships that accidentally faded away when you weren’t looking, and all the times you’ll never get back, all the “i love you’s” that you thought were forever, like forever, forever. How you’re parents are starting to look older, and your brothers date girls that look the same age as you, and you don’t know all your sisters secrets anymore, and how you live so far away from home. The damn passing of time, the universal battle to try and maintain balance somewhere between the death of youth and the expectation of maturity.
Some days, I’m really motivated to become that woman in paragraph one. I know I’m on my way. I know that life is just a fight against my own self doubt, and you can’t really think twice about pressing sleep or going to yoga because when something is the right thing to do you just do it, god dammit. That’s being an adult.
And other days, I’m really awesome about doing that thing that like, every yogi, philosopher, blogger, mother, god or otherwise-guru preaches: be present. I’m perfectly content waking up on a Saturday and cleaning my house, going to a coffee shop with my best friend, wandering into an art gallery and then a flower shop because the sun is shining, and buying two new little baby succulent plants. We named them Theo and Pudge and fell madly in love with them and life as the sun set on the alleyway behind our tiny but hard-earned apartment. The horizon nearly as purple as the Malbec in our glass; yesterday and tomorrow completely irrelevant.
Then there’s the in between days, like today, where honestly, I’d rather being having a breakdown than to feel so blase about literally everything. Its days like this where I wonder, maybe its time to give all this up and make a giant terrifying leap into something else? What, exactly? I have a million ideas, but, I’m not sure which path will get me to the me I will become. I guess they all will, right?
…she took the words right out of my mouth.

Instructions for Freedom


I like this.

“Instructions for freedom”
1. Life’s metaphors are God’s instructions.
2. You have just climbed up and above the roof, there is nothing between you and the Infinite; now, let go.
3. The day is ending, it’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.
4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. You are being here is God’s response, let go and watch the stars came out, in the inside and in the outside.
5. With all your heart ask for Grace and let go.
6. With all your heart forgive him, forgive yourself and let him go.
7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering then, let go.
8. Watch the heat of day pass into the cold night, let go.
9. When the Karma of a relationship is done, only Love remains. It’s safe, let go.
10. When the past has past from you at last, let go.. then, climb down and begin the rest of your life with great joy.”
―    Elizabeth Gilbert,    Eat, Pray, Love

sometimes


…I stay up way past my bedtime and just read quote after quote after quote. Quotes about everything and anything. I have books just full of quotes I’ve read and collected over the years. Beautiful words about life, love, learning. And in these moments, there really is no better place to be wrapped up but in these endless words.

One of my favorites-

It’s a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn’t matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were . . . and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.

So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?”
―    Donald Miller,    Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road

What my 20s have taught me thus far


Don’t you hate it when you grow up and you realize basically everything your mother has ever said told you is usually right? (Damn it!)

Now, whenever I make a big fat life decision I have to excuse myself to call my mother. <– Serious.

“Um…yeah I think I can do that. Hold on, I need to go call my mother quick.”

I mean, it’s a little ridiculous but I swear everything I’ve ever done against my mother’s advice has ended with the “I told you so” lecture. I guess old people really are wise. 😉

So as I was going through some photos this morning, I came across these and it reminded me of that ONE time I didn’t listen to my mother’s advice.

Long story short, last summer I decided to buy a puppy (against my mother’s advice NOT to). Because you know, I moved out of the house, had a full-time job and thought buying a puppy was the step in “growing up”.

Ha!

Mom, you were right. Lesson learned.

I will now never own a dog or have a child. (how people have a dog, child, husband, clean house and job? Yeah, no idea…I’m guessing this is why god gave us wine. And girlfriends.)

And while it was a big lesson learn-er, it was quite possibly the most fun week of my life.

mac1

mac5

mac2

mac3

mac4

mac6

mac7

mac8

(I LOVE this picture!)

mac9

What my 20s has taught me so far- don’t buy a puppy when you have a full-time job.

And always listen to your mother’s advice.

Thanks Mom.

It’s ok


(just a few things I’ve learned in the past couple weeks)

It’s ok

…to not always be ok

…it’s ok to admit when you are not ok

…it’s ok to cry one minute and be gut laughing the next minute. (People will think you are crazy but really, it’s ok)

…it’s also ok to cry in front of your loved one and have snot run down your face. This folks, is when you know someone really must love you.

…it’s ok to feel sad, frustrated, and extremely happy all at the same time

… it’s ok to be so completely confused and change your mind every hour of everyday (okay, this is actually not ok but it most definitely happens)

…it’s ok to rely heavily on your friends and family at times and call them every hour to just know it’s all going to be ok

… it’s ok to love a place and want to leave a place all at the same time

…it’s ok to be lost sometimes. Not all who wonder are lost…right? < — please let that one be true.

… and it’s ok to fall apart when you have wonderful people in your life who are constant reminders that no matter what happens, it really will be ok.

Ok? Ok 🙂

An apple a day…


keeps the doctor away. I usually take down 2-3 apples in a day so I should be set for life right?! Welp, that statements a big fat lie (the no doctor part due to apple consumption, not the ‘I can eat countless apples in a day.'<— I can.)

I need to talk about my feelings/observations on the doctor’s office. Why? Because going to the Doctor’s office is such a weird adventure to me. Always.

Let’s get started.

Apparently, there is no internet/phone service in the doctor’s office now. Is this a new thing? Really, I’m just not a fan.

Side note: Just in case you were seriously concerned, it was just a check up. No babes, no sickness, no diseases, no dying. I may be crazy but at least I’m healthy 😉

Back  on track- no phoneo serviceo. What gives? What am I supposed to do? I love the mini panick attack I have when I realize I have no phone service. Breathe Caitlin, facebook isn’t going anywhere.

Why so. many. questions? Half of the questions I  didn’t even know the answer to.  I know my cell phone number, I know my address, but no I haven’t written a will yet and no, I actually don’t know my dad’s cell phone (opps, sorry dad!). In case I die tomorrow or become unresponsive, please just call my mother- she seems to know me better than I know me. I just ended up giving the reception lady 3 cards when she asked for my insurance. I told her I was new to this whole “growing-up” thing/my mom isn’t here to do this for me so please bare with me. She smiled and gave me 2 cards back.

What’s with all the old, outdated magazines/parenting magazines? My choices were basically literature on joint pain or parenting 101. Since I was not in the mood to educate myself on either of those, I stuck to staring at the wall and people watching. Good times, good times.

The dreaded scale. Dun dun dunnnnnn. Let’s have a moment of honesty- everyone hates the scale. Well, everyone except men. And babies. Because they probably never step on a scale/care about the number on the scale. So women… all woman hate the scale. I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Growing up we were never allowed to have a scale in our house because my mom didn’t believe in having one. Thank you mom. So why must I be weighed before I go see the doctor? First of all, I just downed a large grande Starbucks and I’m wearing a heavy leather jacket. “Excuse me nurse, you need to knock 5 pounds off of that number. I still am wearing my shoes and I mean, I’ve been stressed lately. I swear, that number must be wrong. Here, let me take off my clothes and let’s start over.”

Next time I’m stepping on it backwards. Or boycotting it. Again, really just not a fan.

The blood pressure gadget. I hate it.  I’m cool with the knee wacker and the throat gag stick but the blood pressure thing f r e a k s me out. It’s like I have this fear of it never stopping. I imagine it just getting tighter and tighter until it completely cuts off my circulation and my little arm bursts. Gah! Plus, I always panic when the nurse reports the number back to me “okay 300/82.” Okay? Is that good? Answer me!

That awkward time between the nurse leaving and the doctor coming okay.

Nurse (after all the questionnaires have been completed): “Okay the doctor will be right in!”

…an day hour later, doctor arrives.

I always wonder what the heckkkkkkkkk is the doctor doing out there during that time? I imagine him/her roaming around the halls, hanging out with his doctor friends. Or maybe he/she’s getting it on Grey’s anatomy style in those bunk bed rooms they have in hospitals. (Do those really exist?) I’m not really sure but it always takes f o r e v e r. This is always so awkward to me because it’s such a quiet, tiny room so I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself. Really, I want to get up and test out the knee wacker but I’m afraid this one time the doctor will actually be on time and walk in on me banging out my own knee. “Oh hey doc, just checking out the equipment!”

Instead, I stay glued to my chair and investigate the room from afar. I read all the pamphlets (within an arms reach) about 800 times. I’m so full of knowledge by the time I leave you could call me a doctor! <–kidding, but I sure do know how to use the knee wacker (favorite tool if you couldn’t tell. I was this close to stealing it. Shh!)

Finally, the doctor arrives. (Yippie!)

Well, first he/she knocks on the door. I’m never really sure how to respond to this. “It’s open! come in!”…or “Who is it?”…orrrrrrr just pure s i l e n c e.

I choose silence  tonight and went with a simple “hey” once the doctor opened the door. Awkward.

After this, its basically smooth sailing. As long I don’t have to give any blood or have any shots no one will get hurt.

And there’s my adventures in going to see the doctor. Exhausted?  I am.

An apple a day…


keeps the doctor away. I usually take down 2-3 apples in a day so I should be set for life right?! Welp, that statements a big fat lie (the no doctor part due to apple consumption, not the ‘I can eat countless apples in a day.'<— I can.)

I need to talk about my feelings/observations on the doctor’s office. Why? Because going to the Doctor’s office is such a weird adventure to me. Always.

Let’s get started.

Apparently, there is no internet/phone service in the doctor’s office now. Is this a new thing? Really, I’m just not a fan.

Side note: Just in case you were seriously concerned, it was just a check up. No babes, no sickness, no diseases, no dying. I may be crazy but at least I’m healthy 😉

Back  on track- no phoneo serviceo. What gives? What am I supposed to do? I love the mini panick attack I have when I realize I have no phone service. Breathe Caitlin, facebook isn’t going anywhere.

Why so. many. questions? Half of the questions I  didn’t even know the answer to.  I know my cell phone number, I know my address, but no I haven’t written a will yet and no, I actually don’t know my dad’s cell phone (opps, sorry dad!). In case I die tomorrow or become unresponsive, please just call my mother- she seems to know me better than I know me. I just ended up giving the reception lady 3 cards when she asked for my insurance. I told her I was new to this whole “growing-up” thing/my mom isn’t here to do this for me so please bare with me. She smiled and gave me 2 cards back.

What’s with all the old, outdated magazines/parenting magazines? My choices were basically literature on joint pain or parenting 101. Since I was not in the mood to educate myself on either of those, I stuck to staring at the wall and people watching. Good times, good times.

The dreaded scale. Dun dun dunnnnnn. Let’s have a moment of honesty- everyone hates the scale. Well, everyone except men. And babies. Because they probably never step on a scale/care about the number on the scale. So women… all woman hate the scale. I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Growing up we were never allowed to have a scale in our house because my mom didn’t believe in having one. Thank you mom. So why must I be weighed before I go see the doctor? First of all, I just downed a large grande Starbucks and I’m wearing a heavy leather jacket. “Excuse me nurse, you need to knock 5 pounds off of that number. I still am wearing my shoes and I mean, I’ve been stressed lately. I swear, that number must be wrong. Here, let me take off my clothes and let’s start over.”

Next time I’m stepping on it backwards. Or boycotting it. Again, really just not a fan.

The blood pressure gadget. I hate it.  I’m cool with the knee wacker and the throat gag stick but the blood pressure thing f r e a k s me out. It’s like I have this fear of it never stopping. I imagine it just getting tighter and tighter until it completely cuts off my circulation and my little arm bursts. Gah! Plus, I always panic when the nurse reports the number back to me “okay 300/82.” Okay? Is that good? Answer me!

That awkward time between the nurse leaving and the doctor coming okay.

Nurse (after all the questionnaires have been completed): “Okay the doctor will be right in!”

…an day hour later, doctor arrives.

I always wonder what the heckkkkkkkkk is the doctor doing out there during that time? I imagine him/her roaming around the halls, hanging out with his doctor friends. Or maybe he/she’s getting it on Grey’s anatomy style in those bunk bed rooms they have in hospitals. (Do those really exist?) I’m not really sure but it always takes f o r e v e r. This is always so awkward to me because it’s such a quiet, tiny room so I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself. Really, I want to get up and test out the knee wacker but I’m afraid this one time the doctor will actually be on time and walk in on me banging out my own knee. “Oh hey doc, just checking out the equipment!”

Instead, I stay glued to my chair and investigate the room from afar. I read all the pamphlets (within an arms reach) about 800 times. I’m so full of knowledge by the time I leave you could call me a doctor! <–kidding, but I sure do know how to use the knee wacker (favorite tool if you couldn’t tell. I was this close to stealing it. Shh!)

Finally, the doctor arrives. (Yippie!)

Well, first he/she knocks on the door. I’m never really sure how to respond to this. “It’s open! come in!”…or “Who is it?”…orrrrrrr just pure s i l e n c e.

I choose silence  tonight and went with a simple “hey” once the doctor opened the door. Awkward.

After this, its basically smooth sailing. As long I don’t have to give any blood or have any shots no one will get hurt.

And there’s my adventures in going to see the doctor. Exhausted?  I am.

sing your little heart out. I’m serious.


Do you ever sing so LOUD in your car your throat hurts? And you think, “wow singing that loud makes my throat hurt! I can’t belt this song out because it kind of hurts but since it’s so great I must!!”

No? Okay good me neither….

In all seriousness- I do. This is actually how I fix a bad day.

I want you all to take a moment to laugh about that.

 laugh laugh laugh. ha ha ha. tee hee tee hee tee hee.

Most people probably go grab a drink with friends or hit the gym to fix a bad day. Me? I drive around in my car and sing suppper loud to N’sync 90’s songs.

And waste lots of gas. Then I cry about never having any money because I wasted it all  driving around  and singing songs with a sore throat.

And as ridiculous as that sounds, it really does cure my bad mood! (well that and a little Starbucks.)

After a week from a hell <— not really but seriously. I’m just overly melodramatic. what? me? noooo.

But in all seriousness, to top it off tonight, I did manage to lose my phone and debit card. Oh, and my sanity.

In all seriousness, this is the email  I seriously just sent:

I lost my phone. and debit card. and sanity. wtf my life.

If you brought whiskey and cigarettes over tonight I wouldn’t be mad.

In all seriousness, I was just kidding. Because I don’t smoke or drink whiskey. Once, I drank whiskey and punched someone but I’ll tell that story another day.

But in all seriousness, the only way I find to get over a bad week is to make a joke out of it, laugh about it and sing really loud in the car. Seriously.

And also in all seriousness, I just looked at plane tickets to run away to California for the weekend. Two issues- 1.) my debit card is still MIA 2.) tickets are $600.00. <— Seriously? $$$ UGH.

So seriously what I’m trying to say is I am seriously so glad it is almost the weekend.

If you seriously see a blonde girl on the side of the road with a sign that says, “cali or bust”, pick her up because I heard she’s a really great singer.

TGIF. Seriously.