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I believe the body is made of stories

July 19, 2020

I went camping with my son recently, which was an opportunity to sit by the fire and indulge in that great outdoor tradition.

Not s’mores. Campfire stories.

I rifled through the file cabinet in my brain and pulled out every ghost story I remembered from Girl Scouts, from the girl with the green ribbon to … something about an alien who is standing on a toilet with a booger on his finger chanting, “I got you where I want you, and now I’m gonna eat you!”

No, I don’t know why it was an alien.

One interesting and occasionally brutal thing about my son, though, is that he tells me exactly how a story resonates within him. Like, within his body.

“That was so funny, mom, I felt it all the way up here,” he’ll say, drawing an imaginary line from his toes to his mouth.

“You scared me to here,” he’ll say, motioning to his hip. Then he’ll put his hand next to his chin. “Next time see if you can scare me to here.”

A couple of my tall tales were so bad, they didn’t even rank. “That story fell on the ground. I didn’t even feel it,” he said. “It didn’t touch me.”

It’s strange to be edited in real time by my own 6-year-old child, yes. But his feedback made me fiercer in my telling. I went bolder and weirder and wilder, all for the sake of garnering a reaction.

The body is more than 60% water, which is why music, chanting, and sound therapies have such an impact on how we feel. They change the vibration within us. (Think: That glass of water in Jurassic Park when the T. rex approaches the car, only you’re the cup of water.)

But I also like to believe on some level we’re made up of stories — at least 60%, if not more. So I can’t help but thrill at how my child receives a narrative and considers it a full-body experience. The stories are in his heart, up to his neck, even pooling on the ground around him.

When is the last time you felt a story?

42 things I’ve learned

August 6, 2018

I recently celebrated a birthday, and it’s weird. Even though I’m officially middle-aged, I still feel like I’m arriving late to my own life. There are so many things I wanted to have accomplished by now and places I imagined I’d be. At the very least, I thought I’d be the benevolent but firm dictator of a tiny country.

So I’m still trying to catch up, but I did figure out some stuff along the way. Here are 42 of them:

1. Creating a network, whether it’s professional or more personal, is a matter of quality over quantity.

2. Floss every day.

3. You will smoke like you are invincible, because that’s how young people smoke. It is something you are successful at: puffing, dragging, clicking and flipping a Zippo, lighting cigarettes in the wind. And when you quit, you will miss it. So just don’t start. 

4. If you work best in the mornings, stop trying to be a night owl. And vice versa.

5. People who dance at parties almost always have more fun than people who don’t.

6. Wear what makes you feel good. 

7. But not jumpsuits. 

8. Imposter syndrome is a real beast. The only way to fight through is to “fake it ’til you make it,” which is a cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason. 

9. If given a choice in a public restroom, never use the first stall (it’s overused) or the last stall (where people hide to poop). Go middle stall or go home.

10. There’s no shame in making money or asking for what you’re worth.

11. Put something beautiful and something strange on every page. That’s writing advice from Megan Mayhew Bergman, but it easily expands to become something more like a lifestyle. Be purposeful in finding something beautiful and something strange in each day.

12. You had that one friend who split dinner checks down to the penny. (Everyone had that friend. Emphasis on the had part.) Don’t be that person. 

13. Stop apologizing for what you want, for the space you take up, for living your life, for what you enjoy, for what you know to be true. You are not sorry. There’s nothing sorry about you.

14. You cannot understand the place you come from until you leave it.

15. Try everything. At least one bite. 

16. You’ll never heal in the same environment that made you sick. (I either read this in a tweet or on a teabag. Either way, it’s true.) 

17. Take your ego out of the equation. 

18. But maintain a tiny bit of ego. You’re great.

19. Push yourself until it’s impossible to turn back and there’s no other option but to move forward. (This lesson comes courtesy of day three on your four-day hike to Machu Picchu.)

20. There is no better bean than a chickpea. 

21. If you have the opportunity to be selfless, take it. Remember that extending care to others is really a form of caring for yourself.

22. Comfort kills creativity.

23. Walk until you find the answer. Author Jenny Offill rattled off the Greek phrase for this, which you can’t remember and can’t find with any amount of Googling, but anyway that’s not the point. The point is to take a hike whenever you can’t figure something out, and keep walking until the solution surfaces.

24. Self-consciousness wastes valuable energy that could be better used for dancing.

25. Say yes more often. 

26. Own your mistakes. Like, if you’re in spin class and your shoelace gets tangled with the pedal and you fall off the bike, it’s better to throw your hands in the air and pretend you just did a fancy dismount than to slink away in shame. NOT THAT IT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU.

27. Treat everyone you meet like it’s their birthday. 

28. A few things to carry because you’ll never know when you’ll need them: A packet of tissues, chewable Pepto tablets, plastic bags. If you’re traveling, also bring a wedge-shaped door stopper, a whistle, and a flat rubber sink stopper. 

29. Follow your curiosity. It will drive you to weird places. 

30. Indulge the weird. 

31. Set fair, realistic goals. And when I say “fair,” I mean fair to yourself. You’re probably never going to be a champion surfer. But you could take a surf class. 

32. Take notes.

33. Let go of your expectations. They inevitably lead to disappointment. That’s not to say you should minimize your hope or anticipation — those are great things to have. But whenever you expect a location or an event or a person to be something epic, something soul-shattering, it can’t possibly live up to the hype. Kind of like prom. Prom is built up to be the most magical moment of a young person’s life, and it actually kind of sucks. 

34. Vote in every election.

35. Just take the leap. Back when you were a skydiver, only one part of the jump frightened you — getting out of the aircraft. You had to play mental games with yourself and pretend you were Angelina Jolie’s stunt double, that kind of thing. But once you were in the air, you relaxed into it and let the sky hold you up, which is the most glorious feeling in the world. So do whatever it takes to get out of the plane. You’ll be happy you did.

36. Nobody cares how your thighs look.

37. Decisions made purely out of fear only lead to more chaos and upheaval.

38. Almost nothing is meant to last forever. Not material goods, not relationships, not a perfect trip. Let things go before holding on to them suffocates you. 

39. Have a map. Literally and figuratively. You’re guilty of wandering around until you get yourself lost, which is fine — sometimes it’s actually the best. But often things would have been easier if you’d have just carried a map. This goes beyond travel and into your personal and professional life, where your wise, knowledgable friends would be happy to help guide you. 

40. Whenever you feel the most frightened, you’re on the brink of something amazing. 

41. Every scary thing prepares you for the next scary thing. 

42. There is more good in the world than bad. This is the absolute truth. 

Prince Lyrics for Paisley Park Employees

June 7, 2018

Paisley Park, the estate and production studio of the late Prince, recently had an opening for an archives supervisor. When I thought about the work environment, I imagined everyone communicating solely through Prince’s words. The result is this handy list of Prince lyrics for Paisley Park employees. 

Turning in a report on a Monday morning:

“I was dreaming when I wrote this. Forgive me if it goes astray.”

Late for work the third day in a row:

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow. I never meant to cause you any pain.”

When you can’t decide if you should take the stairs or …

“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down?”

Drunk at the company holiday party:

“We’re all excited, but we don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cause we’re all gonna die.”

Annual performance evaluation self-assessment:

“I’m not a human, I am a dove. I’m your conscience, I am love. All I really need is to know that you believe.”

When Brad from accounting forgets to pick you up on his carpool day:

“How can you just leave me standing, alone in a world that’s so cold?”

Hitting on Brad during the company retreat:

“I want to be your fantasy. Maybe you could be mine? You just leave it all up to me, and we could have a good time.”

Brad is into it:

“Your face is jammin’, your body’s heck a-slammin’.”

Seriously into it:

“Now move your big ass ‘round this way so I can work on that zipper, baby. Tonight you’re a star, and I’m the Big Dipper.”

OK, Brad is getting a little freaky deaky:

“Something about a little box with a mirror and a tongue inside.”

When Brad cooks breakfast the next day:

“Starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam, butterscotch clouds, a tangerine, and a side order of ham.”

Monday morning work email from Brad:

“I can’t disguise the pounding of my heart, it beats so strong. It’s in your eyes, what can I say? They turn me on. I don’t care where we go, I don’t care what we do, I don’t care, pretty baby. Just take me with you.”

Ugh, another email?

“Could you be the most beautiful girl in the world? It’s plain to see you’re the reason that God made a girl.”

Goddamn it, Brad:

“I’ll give you head ’til you’re burning, head ’til you get enough, head ’til your love is red, head love ’til you’re dead.”

Your breakup note to Brad:

“I guess I should have known by the way you parked your car sideways that it wouldn’t last.”

Before the awkward spring potluck:

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called lunch.”

2017 in summary

December 31, 2017
The world's cutest toddler, running along a beach

My focus word for 2017 was “abundance,” and I spent all year trying my darnedest to cultivate that.

And failing. I failed so hard, you guys. My failures were abundant.

Financially, it was one of my driest years since I started freelancing. There were long and seemingly endless spans of time where nothing was accepted or published, even though I wrote, pitched, queried, and followed up obsessively. At one point I read an article that advised writers to aim for 100 rejections per year, and I cackled like a mad woman in a Brontë novel — I was hitting about 100 rejections (or non-responses) per month.

It was depressing. It felt like I was trying to climb a mountain, and even though I was doing my part, I couldn’t quite get there. I researched the trail, I showed up in hiking boots, I carried all the right gear, I had the motivation and desire to put in the work. Then mere steps from the top, I toppled for whatever reason, forcing me to start all over again.

Just when I considered calling it quits, I attended the Cambridge Writers’ Workshop in magical Granada, Spain. It helped recharge my batteries on just about every level, from inspiring me to write new things and look at my work in a different way to satisfying my itchy feet and proving I can still travel solo.

A peek out of a golden window at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain.

Soon after, I placed some of my favorite pieces, like this essay for LitHub about Silent Book Club, a piece about wildflowers and making my own roots in the desert for Palm Springs Life (the online version is a little wonky with some repeated paragraphs, but you can see it here anyway), and a funny/sad essay about a rat for Mutha Magazine.

I also started hosting a radio show about books with Tod Goldberg. I received an acceptance from an outlet that has been on my byline bucket list for decades. I registered for the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop, because I want to find my way toward humor writing again. I read 51 books.

Other good things happened: A road trip to Vegas, a quick jaunt to Portland, a terrific visit with my sister. I reconnected with old friends and made some new ones. As a family, Jason, Everest, and I slept in a tipi under the stars in Pioneertown, hiked through a couple of Canada’s spectacular national parks, and explored Vancouver, now one of our favorite cities.

Also Everest turned 3, and he has grown into someone I genuinely love to hang out with. He’s funny and weird and makes me laugh until I wheeze. We have dance parties, take silly selfies, and haven’t found a trail yet that we don’t want to explore.

Halloween selfie

In November Everest and I hiked 30 miles together, and most of those were quiet morning jaunts, clambering over rocks, scraping up knees, and listening to birdsong. I cherish every one of those miles.

Cutest toddler in the world goes hiking in the desert, standing on top of rocksNow we’re ending on a high note. We just finished a family road trip that was just about as perfect as those things get. We started by seeing the Yayoi Kusama exhibit at The Broad in Los Angeles, and stayed the night in Solvang, a quirky Danish-themed town. Then we spent a few easy days at Morro Bay, listening to seals bark, running on the beach, and sipping hot cocoa as the sun sank.

Our last morning in Morro Bay is a memory that I hope lasts, as it seems to sum up the whole year for me. It’s Everest, barreling down the pastel beach, gathering sand dollars by the handful. He carries them to me, holds these urchins to his chest, makes careful piles of them. He tosses some into the ocean; the rest he tucks into the pockets of my old college sweatshirt.

This is abundance. My pockets hang heavy with sand and salt and shells, and my heart is so full it’s buoyant. I am sand dollar rich, and I have all the things that matter.

A teal sky in Morro Bay

 

Citizen journalism in the age of Trump

February 26, 2017

These are anxious times for free media. We have a president who systematically and deliberately delegitimizes the press, fears the truth, and views the First Amendment as a threat. At the same time, many newsrooms are lean and have limited resources.

There is hope, though. Thanks to social media, the Internet, and the proliferation of media outlets, there is an opportunity for anyone to become a citizen journalist – engaging, informing, and educating others.

Like it or not, we are the truth-tellers now. And this is how to do it.

  • Work a beat

It’s too easy to become overwhelmed by outrage fatigue. Instead, find one or two issues that you are passionate about, whether it’s gun violence, climate change, immigration, healthcare, LGBTQ equality, religious freedom, etc. Research those issues, and channel your energy in that direction. Become your own expert.

  • Be persistent

This is particularly important when confronting members of Congress who don’t value the voices of their constituents. When the voicemail is full, fax them. When the email goes unanswered, go to their office and knock on the door. Remember: When someone is evasive, that means you’re on the right track.

  • Greet the news with skepticism

Don’t be an impulse buyer of news. Read beyond the headlines. Find primary sources. Question numbers. Read transcripts in their entirety.

  • Be accurate with the news you spread

Confirm numbers. Look up facts. Make sure quotes are in context. Spreading falsehoods ruins your credibility, and other people will no longer take you seriously.

  • Demand answers

If you’re talking to an elected official, assert your power. They work for you. If you receive a response that isn’t adequate, call them on it. Ask what they’re going to do about the problem, how will they accomplish this, and when you can expect results.

  • Be clear

Communicate your message in a clear, concise way. We’re often talking about complex issues with a lot of nuance – we must cut through the noise to help people understand what is important and how it affects them.

  • Listen

A lot of people don’t post their politics on Facebook, tweet their issues, or write letters to the editor. They make their voices heard at the ballot box. It’s imperative we listen to their concerns now so we know how to best address them. We don’t want a surprise in 2018.

  • Ask questions

Find out why your friend, neighbor, or relative voted the way they did. Ask what they are looking for and what they hope to achieve. Why do they feel what they feel? Give up trying to find common ground; just find their ground.

  • Amplify the voices that aren’t being heard

The people who are loudest have an agenda, and their voices are already well represented. Find those who aren’t being heard and lift them up.

  • Look for new entry points into the conversation

I love novels because fiction allows us to address important issues at an angle. Fictional characters offer a distance we don’t get with the news, and it opens up valuable entry points for conversation. Find books, movies, TV shows that allow you to have difficult talks with other people.

  • Use the tools of storytelling

Legislation isn’t just a dusty document in some Congressperson’s office. These decisions affect real people, real families, maybe even you. Find the human story, as well as the significance and meaning of the story, and make the connection that policy is personal. Form a compelling narrative. Explain why this story matters.