Signs of a beautiful life.
For most of my life, I have waited for the other shoe to drop.
And drop it did.
Sometimes, it felt like Life (a.k.a. “that other shoe”) was stomping, kicking, and doing everything short of banging out any semblance of hope that life could be consistently good…
Until now.
Because over the past few days, I have realized how unbelievably beautiful my life is — and it comes just six months after my feet landed back on American soil to file for divorce.
Yesterday, a friend of mine reached out to me with a simple text:
Hi.
I could use a friend.
In the 20 years I’ve known him, he’s never once asked me for a thing.
Instead, he’s been there through every one of my adult break-ups and given me faith that I could get through anything…
After one of those said breakups, he would regularly come over to my apartment in Del Mar to let my dog out for a walk while I was at work, surf at one of his favorite North County breaks, then leave me mementos to let me know that I am loved.
Seashells he found on the shore, placed in a martini glass, filled with water, and topped with a note for me to enjoy my new mini-aquarium that brought the ocean home to me.
Wild flowers picked outside my apartment in Cardiff, left in a mason jar on my desk, right before I would move to Kauai to fulfill the next chapter of my life.
He was even there with me in Taiwan, the day my daughter and I were to fly back to America, his perfectly timed Asia vacation coinciding with my reality crumbling apart…
He helped make Wilder laugh, pushed her on a luggage cart as I tried to navigate my way in Mandarin, and then brought us to our gate before finding his own way to another flight that would take him to the Philippines surf.
We talked for over an hour yesterday…
“You’re the only person I can talk to about this,” he said to me. “All my guy friends, well, you know them. They’d just take me out to drink. But, this is big. And I’m so sad.”
I listened. I shared stories. And by the end of it, he said he felt a lot better.
The next day, he told me that he was able to sleep for 10 straight hours for the first time in a long time…
During this last weekend, I went to Ice Church so that I could help gift our breath teacher with a birthday present we all contributed to. We wanted to thank him for opening up his house and his heart to the transformation so many of us have experienced.
He opened the giant box to reveal the hang drum we got for him, and quietly thanked everyone there with a hug.
Then, we did our breathe.
We hung out in the garage and sang some songs while a few folks played the guitar.
We went out to dip into the ice bath, one person after the other.
And finally, we circled up to share our gratitudes, the way we usually close every gathering.
He happened to be the last person to go, and when it came his turn, he paused and observed how so often, we tell ourselves mean stories about our deservedness.
Fictional stories that prevent us from allowing ourselves to be truly loved by others.
What surprises me is how often I imagine that every other person in my life has it together. Yet, I feel like I’m lacking or I’m ‘less than’ because there are parts of my being that aren’t perfect.
Parts of my life that aren’t where I’d like them to be.
Over and over again, I am honored to be reminded that we’re all in this together. That we all want to be loved. That we all want to be accepted. That we all want to feel connected.
However it looks on the surface, we all need a place where…
Together we can cry.
Together we can hug.
Together we can help lift one another up.
Together we can say ‘Aho’ at the end of everyone’s share to affirm the greatness that exists in every one of our lives.
Yesterday, I kind of blew out my knee.
Wilder and I had been on television that morning supporting a friend of mine who has a PR agency to promote a fundraiser for a girl with leukemia. We sat at the end of a table at a local brewery as the reporter came to ask a couple of questions about the upcoming event.
We finished filming the segment and I dropped Wilder off at school, her hair in two braided pigtails, happily playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ at the stoplights.
While we were driving, The Rising Tide Society was emailing its entire list that I was one of a select group of people to be chosen as one of 20 top marketing experts around the world.
I came home, bent down to plug in my modem, then as I stood up from a kneeling position, my knee popped.
It went the wrong direction and I fell over with a loud shout.
Ever since getting pregnant – and thanks to life – over the last few years, my body has been weaker than I’d like for it to be.
I hobbled over to my counter.
I sat and breathed.
I texted that same PR friend who immediately said she could help take me to urgent care. This is a woman I’ve known for only a couple of months.
Thankfully, I was able to get my knee back into my socket, so I lay on my bed for most of the day, doing work I love with a fantastic team, while my downstairs neighbors brought up food, cupcakes, and walked my foster dog.
That afternoon, I took Wilder to the sweetest playdate. I’ve been getting text messages from several parents recently who tell me, “My kid won’t stop talking about your daughter — could we do a playdate together soon?”
As the evening came to a close, we stopped by another dear friend’s house who put electrical stims on my knee, while she and her boyfriend gave Wilder snacks and played with her so that I could have time to heal.
This is what I mean by having a beautiful life…
It doesn’t have to be big and bold.
You don’t have to have everything work out for you all the time.
A beautiful life can happen in the everyday moments with the people around you, whether these relationships are long in the making or short in the sequence.
I marvel at each of these experiences, because people felt safe to be vulnerable with me — knowing that I have been vulnerable with them.
I used to worry that I was too much.
That I was a burden.
That I was too much to handle.
At least, that’s what my parents told me growing up…
“You’re too much. Who do you think you are? No one cares about you.”
But they were wrong.
People do care about me.
They care about me and they care about my daughter.
These people in my life love us so much, they are there to share in our most human moments. And we are there to share in theirs.
I always say, “Life may not always be pretty, but it is indeed beautiful.”
You have a beautiful life, too.
I know it.
Let’s celebrate that together.
