Posts Tagged ‘authenticity’

An Essential Truth

Let’s have a brief catch-up session: I’ve had a baby, it’s been amazing, I’ve taken 3.5 months of solid maternity leave and now I’m ready to begin tapping back into my professional life once more. Okay, good, we’re all caught up on the basics since my last post.

Here’s a peak at me with my son, Sevi, during those early weeks:

 Jen and Sevi 2011

 

The most amazing thing about spending time with my son has been watching him rapidly evolve from a sleepy, totally-freaked-out-by-this-new-world-outside-the-womb newborn into a social, delighted and fairly organized three and half month old. Yes, he cries, he fusses, he gets bored but the hallmark of this last month has been joy. Pure, unabashed joy. This kid smiles like there’s no tomorrow!

At first I thought this joyful nature might just be some evolutionary tool built in to ensure parents don’t abandon their kids. Infant care is, well, a lot, and if kids didn’t progress from sleepy, fussy lumps into engaged, social creatures with smiles that win their parent’s hearts, we might have a shortage of toddlers in the world, if you know what I mean.

I’ve since come to another conclusion. Yes, a child’s first smile is no doubt timed just right to keep parents healthily attached, but when those smiles unfold into a picture of that pure, unabashed joy I was talking about, I think it’s actually pointing to something deeply important about who we fundamentally are. Our inherent nature is one of joy.  All the time we spend worrying and fretting and organizing and controlling and forcing and accomplishing is understandable. But on one level it is not even real. It is certainly not essential.

Of course, I write all of this in the midst of my own anxieties about combining work with being a breastfeeding mother and having a child who is somewhat bottle-adverse. My husband and I are trying to sort out childcare and I was up every two hours last night. I’ve felt somewhat miserable all day. That’s not to mention that most of my pants still don’t fit and I have existential concerns about the life and death and well-being of my child. Sometimes it’s hard to feel remotely sane, let alone joyful.

I am also aware that with each year, Sevi will have experiences that hurt him and wound him. Like all people, he will feel the need to erect walls for protection. He won’t smile quite so frequently as he gets older and that open, trusting stance will become damaged. He will undoubtedly move away from his own most essential nature and need to work to reconnect with it.

Perhaps the gift of  parenting an infant – at least this infant (my mother will tell you horror stories about my oldest brother who cried for six months straight) – is demonstrated in the fact that I can walk down the hall, pick Sevi up and get immediately high off of one of his delicious smiles. I have easy access to this reminder of my own essential nature and therefore I have easier access to a way of peeling back the layers, letting go and experiencing the fountain of joy within.

For that – and for Sevi – I give immeasurable thanks!

Finding Answers in the Personal Essay

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

Journaling has never worked for me. I see the value, I love writing, and the potential for self-discovery is alluring, but I just never took to it. And yet, my logophile type-A self longed for a way to organize my thoughts by putting words on paper.

Enter: creative non-fiction, a.k.a. the personal essay. Free writing in a journal left me unsatisfied, but working to polish an essay of my own design felt productive and gratifying. I found the real magic happened in the revising, a critical component that was missing with journal writing. During revision is when I can examine my own thinking, challenge myself, and gently force myself to settle on some clarity. It’s where the beauty would bubble up as I played with the sounds of words and construction of sentences.

Even better, by shifting my attention from drafting to editing, writer’s block evaporated. It doesn’t matter what lands on the page the first time around, because the bulk of the discovery comes in crossing out phrases and tweaking my word choice and adding specific details that bring everything to life. The draft is just the creation of raw material that facilitates the alchemy.

This process of self-discovery through personal essay proved so rewarding that I created a business around it. As a teacher working with high school students, I saw too many of my kids dreading the college essay, putting it off and stressing out about getting it perfect and finding the whole ordeal dreadfully dull. That doesn’t fly with me. Writing should be exciting.

When they gripe about not knowing what to say, I remind them that that’s the whole point of writing in the first place. It’s not to dazzle the admissions committee (or your boss or your audience) with the number of “fancy” words you know; it’s the process of figuring it all out. Knowing everything at the beginning would be boring; exploration and the discovery of some unexpected truth is electrifying.

So we make an attempt. (The secondary definition of essay, by the way, is to attempt or try. Perfect, no?) We spew out words and see how they arrange themselves, and then we go back and see what they tell us. We add and subtract and transform, and by the end, we uncover the why or the what that prompted exploration in the first place. We essay the discovery.

***

Olivia Lindquist Bowen is the Founder and Director of Education for the Royston Writing Institute. She founded RWI to help students find and express their most compelling stories in their college application essays, while learning the mechanics of great writing that will carry them through college and beyond.

Can you choose something you’ve never seen?

Around the time my then-boyfriend and I were deciding to get married, I found myself highly observant of couples everywhere. Coming from a family with myriad divisions and splits (read: divorce), I thirsted for examples of couples who’d “made it.” Couples who not only stayed together – because, let’s face it, the defining hallmark of a good marriage isn’t length – but couples who’d built resilient, generative relationships that stood the test of time. I was a bit afraid it might not be possible.  I also wanted examples of feminist couples, which is to say examples of couples who didn’t let gender define the rules of engagement. To be honest, I felt like I was on a search for the holy grail.





I was reminded of this search today when I went hunting for an old New York Times article I’d read on shared parenting. I have a client who is seeking to figure out the right alchemy of child-rearing, career advancement, and financial sustainability and I thought this article might provide some new ideas. Twenty minutes later, I found I’d reread the entire piece. This paragraph stuck out to me:

The obstacles to equity are enmeshed and interwoven, almost impossible to separate from one another. Deutsch did a study of 150 couples who tried sharing to various degrees, and her results suggest that social norms play a large part in why so few marriages are truly equal. Choices are made in a context. It is rare that you choose something you have never seen.

With 2011 right around the corner, folks everywhere are looking to make different choices in their lives: the New Year tends to heighten our cultural obsession with self-improvement. I am convinced, however, that committing to those choices is exponentially harder if we do not have a picture of what’s possible that actually resonates with us. It’s one of the reasons I often ask my clients to identify characters in a movie who have faced similar obstacles – so there exists the tiniest bit of a narrative they can begin to weave into the construction of their own story.

My experience of marriage certainly bears this out. While no couple can mirror back to you the relationship you can or will have with your own partner, I believe I was wise to go on my search. In the early years, finding examples of the kind of relationship my husband and I were creating gave me hope and fuel, but mostly let me know that what I feared might be impossible was, in fact, possible. Today, my search is more about taking note of partnerships that have qualities I want to cultivate in my own. And every new example spurs me forward.

If you’re seeking to make big changes in 2011 or are knowingly facing a transition, I invite you to go on your own search. Find examples, role models, fictional characters. See as much of what’s possible so that you can truly create the most authentic path available to you.

Lice cause suffering. Let us give thanks.

There are a few adages I am loathe to utter but which nonetheless communicate commonly accepted truths and come forth from the mouths of people I greatly respect. They are also generally expected from people in my profession. Here’s my least favorite:

Everything happens for a reason.

There are myriad reasons why this particular expression gets under my skin. Primarily, it has to do with the how and when of its usage. You’re most apt to have this offered to you as a viewpoint you *should* adopt when something really crappy happens and you haven’t yet begun the healing process. The folks who utter it during such times are well meaning, I’m sure, but it’s always struck me as insensitive at best and abusive at worst.

The adage is also a little too linear for me. I’m not sure I can get behind such a simplistic causation formula for our experience as humans. Take death. In the grand scheme, sure, there may be a simple spiritual, universal reason for dying. But when applied to the timing and manner of individual deaths or the endless “little” deaths we encounter, “everything happens for a reason” strikes me as trite. Perhaps my thoughts about this are similar in form to those of the atheist who believes that humans have simply constructed God to make themselves feel better.

Part of it is that I tend to be less of a “silver lining” kind of gal and more of a “call a spade a spade” kind of gal. But the truth is, a spade isn’t a spade unless I call it spade. See? That is the nature of reality, of language, of story.

In all of this, and on the day before the Thanksgiving holiday, I am reminded of the author Corrie ten Boom‘s recounting of her experience in a Nazi concentration camp. Her sister, imprisoned with her, insisted they give thanks for the wretched lice that had infected their barracks. Corrie balked at such an idea, knowing how much suffering the lice brought all the women living together. But thanks they gave. And it was only later that they realized the lice had been the sole factor preventing the guards from remaining present 24/7 in their barracks. Without guards, they were able to tend freely to one another’s deep spiritual, emotional and mental needs, gathering for meetings of prayer and discussion.

I’ve spent some time today exploring the relationship between being grateful and a resistance to silver linings and everything happening for a reason. There’s no arguing that the act and experience of being grateful is a useful, necessary and healing one and I’ve wondered if you’re more apt to be grateful if you consider that something seemingly crappy or tragic or painful happened for a reason. Or if you’re more likely to give thanks if you believe there’s always a silver lining waiting to be found.

Did the lice appear in order to remove the guards, thereby creating a more deeply nourishing environment for the prisoners? Was the ability to meet for prayer and discussion a silver lining?

Perhaps those questions are irrelevant. Perhaps gratitude is less correlative to a belief that everything happens for a reason or the dogged pursuit of silver linings. Perhaps identifying something as a spade can provide its own pathway to gratitude. Something more along the lines of Corrie ten Boom’s sister’s approach: Lice cause suffering. Let us give thanks.

I have much to be thankful for this year, as I do every year. Much that easily sides into the abundance column and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. But our human experience is one of yin and yang and so there are also injuries and struggles that I’ve faced. I am going to practice being grateful for them, too. I am going to practice being grateful for them because I am aware that gratitude transforms – ourselves and that for which we are grateful. I am going to practice being grateful for them because I know I cannot see the future. I am going to practice being grateful for them because they are part of the complete experience of my life, a life I cherish with abandon.

May you experience the fullness of your own day of thanksgiving!

Leap and the Net Will Appear

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

Leap and the net will appear. That quote comes from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, a book that led me to find a coach and played a part in a series of leaps I would take in my life.

It all began with my simple desire to write. I enjoyed writing when I actually did it, which was rarely. Part of the problem was laziness, and part of it was lack of inspiration. What would I write about? And then there was the matter of my inner critic rearing its ugly head, saying why bother? Who will read it? I would occasionally try to write, but often felt blocked. Yet I still found myself buying books about writing, reading articles about writing, and listening to interviews with writers, living vicariously through their tales of creative fulfillment. Clearly, I had some desire to write.

A friend suggested The Artist’s Way, which is basically a 12-week program involving journaling and reflective exercises geared toward silencing your inner critic and discovering or reconnecting with your creative side. I immediately bought a copy, completed (and enjoyed) the first exercise, and then let the book sit around for another few weeks as I made half-hearted attempts to continue with it. I’d always been a good student, but part of the motivation in school was having to complete assignments and turn them in for a grade. I’m no longer in school, have no teachers, no assignments, no deadlines, no pressure, and therefore, no motivation. But I still wanted to complete the exercises in the book, get in touch with my creative side, and establish a regular writing practice. My husband, who had been working with a life coach through his job, suggested hiring one for my creative needs. That way I would have someone to check in with periodically, someone to motivate me and help me set goals, and someone to hold me accountable for meeting those goals.


Leap #1 – Hiring a Life Coach

This may not seem like much of a leap to some people, but please understand; I was a very private person who did not disclose a great deal of information about myself to others. The thought of discussing myself, my fears and insecurities, and my creative goals with someone I didn’t know (or even with someone I did know) was outside of my comfort zone. I also had some resistance to telling people I wanted to write because I feared they would expect me to churn out a best-selling novel or two, and I would feel like a failure if I didn’t.

I found a delightful coach whose warmth and sense of humor immediately put to rest my concerns, fears, and resistance. And as luck would have it, she also loves to write and was familiar with The Artist’s Way. We worked together for several months, during which time I completed all the exercises in the book and established a regular writing routine. I was very happy with my coaching experience and proud of my accomplishment, but I had a burning question: what now?


Leap #2 – Giving Speeches
Huh? How did I go from quietly writing for my own sense of creative fulfillment to getting up in front of a room full of people and giving a speech? Well, I felt like I needed to take things a step further. My concern was that this new writing routine would just be a fleeting thing, and that in a few weeks I would get lazy again. One thing I know about myself is that once I take action, I love to reward myself with inaction.

There was one piece of writing, a personal and somewhat humorous essay about my childhood, which I kept reading out loud. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had written a speech, and I felt like I wanted to share it. This was very out of character for me, yet I yearned to find my voice and tell my story. My husband belonged to a Toastmasters group, and the thought ‘why don’t you join?’ kept bobbing to the surface of my mind. I desperately tried to drown this thought, but it kept coming up for air and getting stronger each time. I even pictured myself getting up, giving the speech, and feeling the emotion of every word and phrase. Then I would stop myself and say, are you insane? Why would you want to put yourself through that?

I discussed the idea of public speaking with my coach. It went like this:

Me: (exasperated & dismissive) “I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this! I’m an introvert! We don’t do this stuff voluntarily!”

JGB: (calmly & rationally) “We are more than just our Myers-Briggs personality types.”

What a wise woman! She proceeded to coach around the issues I was having, and we finally negotiated an action step for me to take. I would visit the Toastmasters group, only as a guest, just to observe. A baby step. That worked out quite well, as I not only joined the group, I also delivered my first speech at the next meeting. It was very empowering, to say the least. Toastmasters also gave me the structure and deadlines I needed to motivate myself to write.

I like to think of giving speeches as my version of bungee jumping — something new and different and challenging for me, and a great way to step outside of myself and lean into my discomfort. My initial desire to write led me to public speaking, which led me to co-presenting an all-day workshop that evolved from one of my speeches. This would have been unthinkable to the pre-coaching me.


Leap #3 – Quitting my job to pursue my passion
So did I quit my job to pursue my passion for writing? No, I did not. Did I quit my job to pursue my passion for public speaking? No, I did not. I quit my job to pursue my passion for yoga.

You see, something interesting happened as a result of my journey from coaching to writing to public speaking. I not only discovered that my true passion was yoga, I also realized that it could be my dream career. Just to be clear, I love writing and public speaking, but I’ve been having a torrid love affair with yoga for many years, and only after giving speeches did I realize I had the courage (and the skills) to lead a yoga class. This realization led to getting my yoga teacher certification, which led to one teaching gig, which led to many more opportunities, and those opportunities led me to the ultimate leap of quitting my full-time job as a librarian to pursue my passion for teaching yoga.

It’s amazing to think about how my life unfolded and expanded since that very first coaching session!

Now, I’m not suggesting that you run right out to get a copy of The Artist’s Way, quit your job and the universe will immediately shower you with rainbows, puppies, and free candy. But what I am encouraging you to do is get clear on what you want and take action. Take action on whatever it is that you’ve been holding back from. Maybe it’s something as simple as getting back into a writing routine, or maybe it’s something as grand as writing a best-selling novel. Maybe it’s as simple as delivering your first speech, or as grand as becoming a motivational speaker. Whatever it is, take action, even if it’s a baby step in the right direction. Those baby steps are powerful! They lead to big, grown-up steps, and grown-up steps lead to leaps, and trust me, when you leap, the net will appear.

Un-Telling My Coming-Out Story

This post was submitted on Tell a Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?



I came out to my mom when I was 15 and have lived more than half my life as an openly gay man. I used to have to tell my “coming out story” a lot, but today, it is only on first or second dates with men that the topic even gets broached. Voices get lowered, the tone gets serious, The Story gets told. Every openly gay person has one, and the elements are nearly universal: a deeply held secret is revealed, hearts are pounding, there’s anxiety, uncertainty, acceptance, rejection, drama, relief… So archetypal, so predictable.

I have a problem with the “coming out story,” namely with the fact that it divides a life into a “before” and an “after”. Why do the gays *have* to have this divisive story, and what if they don’t? Must identifying as queer require coming along with a struggle, and such a particular struggle at that? The problem is not even so much that the reasons for even having to “come out” as same-gender loving should be abolished (do lefties have to come out??); rather, it’s the fact that the “coming out story” is only the beginning of the “gay story,” which many gay men happily live out. This includes coming out, first same-sex kiss and sex, freedom and experimentation in college, madonna-britney-gaga, the clubs, the pride parades, the perfect body, the material possessions, the booze and the drugs, and if you live in the right state the wedding and kids. You know — one of those stories that perpetuates the commonly accepted roles for people in society.

During my junior year in college, I was very involved in two queer student organizations, organizing Out Week, Pride Week, weekly support groups, political actions, parties, the works. I was affectionately known as the “Gay Grandpa” amongst my peers. I was the embodiment of The Gay. It was after one of these events that I finally declared that I was retiring from being gay, that I was keeping my boyfriend but was otherwise done with this identity label and all the work that went along with it! My queer friends knew what I was referring to and congratulated me; my straight friends kept asking me whether I was becoming straight, to which I answered, “No way! That’s even more work!”

Living my own story has been a big theme in my life, and by now my “life story” is too complex to retell. I do use labels like “gay” and “queer” to position myself in society, and I’ve surrendered to the fact that growing up with this identity trait has constituted predictable and common struggles for me in my life. But these days I’m fond of saying that “I grew up gay” — and that my true coming out story begins in a hospital on a stormy winter night in northern Germany where my mom’s contractions are intensifying along with the snow outside…

The Thigh Bone’s Connected to the Knee Bone: Part 3

Check out part 1 and part 2 of this story to read how I began the process of taking responsibility for my story about my health.

I cried, I journaled, I prayed about how crappy I felt about my relationship to my health. Which is where we left off yesterday and where I was feeling some measure of clarity about a next step. Ready for it? Cool. Here is the thought that immediately popped into my mind:

Get online and intuitively google.

Huh? Wait. Screwing around online has become my default avoidance technique. I think I may have actually rolled my eyes. Surely, this was me just trying to get out of taking further responsibility, right?

Now, I don’t really understand how intuition works. I just know that it does. And that I rarely regret following a gut instinct. So I took a deep breath and hopped online, deciding simply to stay awake (in the spiritual sense) and see what I discovered.

There are a few important background notes worth mentioning here:

1. I’m a skeptic. It’s a family trait. And it’s extremely valuable. It’s what keeps me from being cultish about religion, new age fads and myriad ideological camps. It’s also what makes me a late adopter to everything from useful technologies to useful ideas.

2. I’ve increasingly become attuned to the fact that we see as though “through a glass, darkly.” In other words, the longer I live and the longer I study and the longer I walk alongside my clients in their own processes of discovery, the more convinced I’ve become that very little (if any) of life is black and white and that we have no choice but to move forward in partial blindness.

3. I’ve tried a lot of different things. In the realm of health, I’ve seen chiropractors, neurologists, voice pathologists, surgeons, physical therapists and an acupuncturist. That’s probably a short list.

Back to the internet.

So I’m googling away, feeling my way from site to site, following my intuition. And I come across a page that mentions something called Tension Myositis Syndrome, coined by a Dr. John Sarno of NYU’s Rusk Institute. TMS is a psychosomatic disorder, and the theory behind it states that the brain seeks to distract the individual from painful, unconscious emotions so it uses the nervous system to restrict blood flow to specific body parts and this mild oxygen deprivation causes pain. The focus and attention to the pain keeps you from experiencing said painful emotions. Apparently, these painful emotions can be pretty run of the mill stuff but for whatever reason the individual finds them unacceptable and therefore represses them. The brain wants to make sure it stays this way.

While TMS is most often diagnosed in back pain – of which I have none – it has also been connected to almost every chronic, idiopathic problem I have ever had.  I ordered the book, The Divided Mind, by Dr. Sarno and while dragging my skepticism through the muck of it, became even more convinced that this syndrome is worth exploring. Part of what has convinced me is actually physical: my arm pain has decreased by about 30% since first reading about TMS and I notice the pain spikes whenever I’m angry or irritated. And then all I think about is the physical discomfort.

But reading the book also leaves me feeling depressed. I am aware that I’d much rather deal with physical problems than psychological ones. That awareness depresses me even more. I like to think of myself as emotionally attuned and open to dealing with whatever issues I have.To help me sort through all of this, I made an appointment to go see a doctor who specializes in TMS to see which of my chronic conditions might stem from psychological factors and which of them might, say, result from a need for new orthotics.

Quite frankly, the long and short of this has very little to do with whatever is causing my physical problems. It has to do with my relationship to them. It has to do with my story about my health and my willingness to take responsibility for it. It reminds me of when I first began an effort to change my financial picture. While a desired outcome may have been more money coming in through my business, it really boiled down to whether or not I could develop a healthy relationship with my finances, whatever they looked like. For richer or poorer, right?

The same is true with our bodies, with our health and wellness. And whether I have TMS or Parkinson’s or have just hit an odd rough patch, I am responsible for how I respond, for what I bring to the table, for how I act in relationship. Will I obsess over what’s not working? Will I go through long periods of not doing anything to address my problems? Will I remember that the thigh bone’s connected to the knee bone, that there is a interrelatedness in all things? And if the cause of my symptoms is psychological, will I be brave enough to follow through?

I don’t know if I’m anywhere near resolution to my chronic health concerns. I don’t know if the path will be easy or hard. What I do know is that I am no longer out of integrity. I can get up in front of a room of people, share with them about how to craft their own powerful stories about health and wellness and know that I’m along for the ride, too. That I have begun changing my own story.

Your True Story: A Pilot Coaching Program

Stories are everywhere.

There is the story of your day, your week, your first love, your career, your professional development, your body. Since the beginning of time, we have been making sense of our world through story and we use stories every day to inspire us, hinder us, explain ourselves, understand difficult concepts and more.

At this very moment, you are in the process of writing your own story.

Because your story is integral to how you experience yourself and your world, I am SO excited to be launching a pilot coaching program to help you create your most powerful and authentic story!

Click here for pilot program details.

After you read the program details, my guess is that you’ll quickly have an inkling if this is the right program for you. The following list of reasons might also help you decide:

  • You’re feeling stuck
  • You keep experiencing the same problem over and over again
  • You have similar symptoms in many areas of your life
  • You’re ready to take a truthful look at your situation and take action based on what you discover
  • You have the time and energy to devote to a powerful, life-changing process
  • You want structure and end dates
  • You always wanted to experience coaching
  • You like significant cost-savings without a decrease in service
Keep in mind that this pilot program launches in August and that I’ll only be signing up participants (who are getting a deep discount!) through the end of this week. If you are ready to craft your own true story, schedule a time with me to talk. I would LOVE to support you in this process!

Our Bodies, Our Obsession

I used to think poor body image was an issue unto itself. I’ve since come to realize that poor body image and the obsession around it has a far reach, preventing women, in particular, from being powerful forces in the world. In other words, when we are spending time obsessing over our bodies and how (ugly) they are, we are not spending time and energy, and money, and intelligence on other things. Like developing a spiritual practice or ending global warming.

This is a problem.

In an effort to address this problem, I’ve crafted a workshop – and now a FREE teleseminar so you can call from anywhere – on this very topic. It’s happening on Thursday, June 3 at 8pm ET and, if you’re a woman, I would really love to have you participate. Really.

Register for Our Bodies, Our Obsession - A Teleseminar in Wherever you and your phone happen to be!  on Eventbrite

In the meantime, take a look at this video from Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty and think about the standard to which you’re holding yourself.

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To Be Pleasant and Memorable

Who doesn’t love a good email forward?!?!?

Okay, I don’t either. I’ve discovered, however, that they have this interesting disarming quality to them, especially when they are packaged with cute photos of animals or children.

See, you're hooked now, right?

See, you're hooked now, right?

It’s like talking to a dear friend who believes passionately about something and during the discourse, you feel your head nodding yes and your eyebrows raised in agreement. It’s not until you walk away that you realize that no, you don’t actually think waterboarding is ethically sound.

I received a forward today that compared the experience of life to that of a train journey. We get on board when we are born; we disembark when we die. The other passengers are our friends, etc.

As any recipient of such dispatches knows, the meaning is inevitably made clear enough that your 3 year old nephew would understand – no critical thinking required. This is handy. After all, I’m certainly not going to spend time on the deconstruction of a feel-good Power Point presentation that I feel compelled to read because I like sender.  

Back to life = train ride. I’m moving quickly through the slide, gently rolling my eyes at the positive use of the word “baggage.” And then comes the message:

“Above all, we should all strive to make the ride as pleasant and memorable as we can.”

I feel my eyebrows raise a bit, my head lean to the left and a slight nod start at the top of my spine. This is nice, I think. Pleasant and memorable. I like pleasant – it’s comforting, reassuring, unobtrusive. And who doesn’t want to remember positive events? Or be remembered? Maybe I should think more about being pleasant and memorable.

And then my brows furrow. Pleasant and memorable? Pleasant is as vanilla as vanilla gets and memorable seems like a partial waste, considering you know, death.

What about bold? Powerful? Creative? Helpful? Connected? Authentic?

But what I really want is to hear from you. Play a little Mad Libs, fill in the blanks and share below:

Above all, we should all strive to make the ride as _____________ and ______________ as we can.


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