Category: Lindsey

My Traditional Christmas Tree

posted 26th December 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Family, Lindsey, Season 3

My family had a fake Christmas tree that we were experts at constructing. “Bend the branches upwards, like they are reaching for the sun!” my mother would instruct my brother and I as we assembled the prickly, metal and plastic tree. Then my dad would string the lights. And we’d all hang the ornaments – familiar ones, used each year. My dad always played music – everything from the Sesame Street Christmas album to orchestral renditions of Silent Night.

In college, I missed the annual tree assembly but always returned home to the same tree, in the same corner, with the same ornaments I had grown up with.

My first year spending Christmas alone was last year. I worked at a hotel, and I was recruited to decorate the tree. My boss gave me a huge box of lights for this little tiny tree with instructions to use all the lights. I had never strung Christmas lights before! I spent my entire shift wrestling with the fragile-but-still-lit-lights, tying them in knots around the trunk of the tree, and working outwards. They remained brightly lit for all of five minutes before – sizzle! – out they went and along with them, my Christmas spirit that movies always glorify.

I spent my next shift with my head buried in richly scented pine needles, seeking out the 2 or 3 broken lights amongst the thousands, grumbling bah-humbug to everyone in my wake.

I worked the hotel on Christmas, too. A strange experience, besides a quick call with my family, I spent the day mostly alone at my desk, reflecting. It marked a year since I had left home. A lot had changed. A lot was going to change.

This year, I’m even farther from my family. I don’t have to string lights on a stupid hotel Christmas tree, but I’ve found my fair share of trees. I attended the holiday boat parade in Jacksonville, Florida and stood under a towering tree while cheesy pop holiday music played. In Miami, I ended up at a fancy party with another big tree, bedazzled in the lobby. Now I’m in the Bahamas and there are no pine trees to be found. We left the Christmas lights back in Florida, which I don’t mind, because something tells me I’d be the one dangling from the mast of our sailboat, stringing lights. Who knows what Christmas will be like this year. There will probably be some lit up sailboats and maybe even a fake tree in whatever port-of-call we anchor in on the 25th.

I don’t put much meaning into the actual date anymore. My life doesn’t really allow it now, but I don’t mind. The holidays stress me out more than anything – PRESENTS PRESENTS PRESENTS – outside of familiy time that’s all this time of year seems to be about. And movies that make it seem like not being with family on Christmas is the worst thing to happen in the history of EVER. I get my family time when I can make it home. It doesn’t matter if it’s the 25th of December or the 4th of July… it happens when I can make it happen.

But I know that back in my hometown, for the whole month of December, that same fake tree will be in the same corner of my living room. The same ornaments will be hung there. The same Sesame Street album will get broken out, despite the complete lack of children. And every tree I meet along the way, I will compare it to the one standing in Michigan, and think: “Those branches are TOTALLY not reaching for the sun!”

divider

Self-Doubt and Being a Crazy Woman

posted 19th December 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Lindsey, Season 3, What I've Learned

Living out Big Dreams is so life affirming and exciting and beautiful, it’s ridiculous. I get to cross off a huge Life List item (Learn to Sail!) while I get a first-hand education in nautical navigation in the next months, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t question myself at times.

Am I being selfish? Should I stop being silly and get That Desk Job I hold in my mind as my end-all-be-all fallback solution? Am I wasting away my youth, living in isolation when I should be in a city, surrounded by people my age, having deep intellectual discussions in indie cafes and pursuing something that resembles a career? Am I missing out on a life I am supposed to be living because I’m stubborn?

And on. And on.

My largest fears are based on fear of failure, and fear of being judged for whatever failures I come by. Choosing to live an alterative lifestyle was a natural progression for me, but when I think about what I am missing back in The Real World, I begin to think – well… what if I fail… then everyone who watched my journey can finally have their last laugh.

As if all my friends and acquantances are watching me from a distance with bated breath, ready to point their fingers and have a big ol’ laugh when I come crawling back to society saying “oookay… I guess I want to take that job… I couldn’t do it… I couldn’t make it on my own…”

Yeah right. Like anyone out there is hoping I’ll fail. And if they do… VOODOO HEX! Zzzzzap! (I don’t really know where that came from, but you get my drift.) But it doesn’t stop me from being more scared of what people will think if I fail, than the actual failure itself.

Where Does This Come From?

Self-doubt, self-confidence, and when it gets really bad, self-loathing. These are my demons, my “Negative Nellie” as Molly has dubbed the inner voice that sits on my shoulder, dressed in red and devil horns, speaking sickly sweet nothings into my ears.

That’s the thing – no matter what, we all have this voice of self-doubt somewhere within. Something about being a girl makes it worse, I think. We spend our lives trying to fill so many roles – the beautiful seductress with the perfect body and fashion sense, the efficient homemaker that bakes badass banana bread while wearing stilettos and sipping red wine in her sparkling clean kitchen, the gender-barrier breaking modern career woman who rises to the top because – THANK YOU CIVIL RIGHTS – she can achieve anything she sets her mind to, the perfect girlfriend/wife with the storybook love affair. And the second that any of these things aren’t perfect, we start to feel inadequate.

As times change, what it means to be a woman has evolved into such a broad and undefined term, it’s hard to keep things straight. “Women are crazy,” say my male friends, but WHAT DO YOU KNOW I want to scream all batshit-crazy-like. We have a lot of things on our plates besides playing Halo and being good at sports.

OKAY, I know this is not how all men (boys?) operate, but I’m just saying, I think we have to work a little harder as women to meet our own expectations for ourselves. And this creates alot negative self-talk and doubt.

And Whats the Solution?

I’m the first to admit – I get caught up in my self-doubt a lot and it is hard as hell to get back to the happy-go-lucky optimism that preludes great breakthroughs, adventures and general life rocking. I recently posted the variety of tactics I use to get out my bad day funks, and these are the methods I apply to my self-doubt. Because, honestly, self-doubt is the root of most of my bad days.

Otherwise, I just have to remind myself: Breathe. Believe in yourself, Lindsey. Believe.

{photo credit : seyed mostafa zamani}


divider

Finding Inspiration Through Alternative Lifestyles

posted 12th December 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Inspiration, Lindsey, Season 3

I’m writing this from the middle of the ocean. The only people I have seen in the past week are my three other crewmates and my own face in the mirror. There is no phone or internet because, well, it’s the middle of the ocean.

Asking me to define the most inspirational person in my life at this very moment, is kind of like asking me what my favorite color is. There aren’t many choices in this narrow vision I have right now. My favorite color is the deep blue of the ocean. What other color is there? All I see, in every direction, is this amazing shade of blue that I’ve never experienced until I hung my waist over the bow of the boat and stared into the purest, bluest, mystery of deep ocean. It eats up my eyeballs like a great work of art.

Besides blissful blue, I am surrounded by the captain of the ship and my two fellow crewmates who I am just beginning to know. We’ve only met a few weeks ago and we’re suddenly living alone in a rocking ship, working around the clock to harness the power of the ocean, the power of the wind to move ourselves and our boat miles and miles to the crystaline coves of the Bahamas. The exhaustion is heavy because standing straight up requires so much effort, and in the healing isolation of being so entirely distant, I find inspiration in each person who has touched my past, who has made my future brighter, clearer, and more hopeful.

From my place right now, adrift in an ocean of dreams coming true, I hold each person who has helped me to reach this point close in my heart. I carry a piece of them with me. I literally think of them every day and their influence continues to guide me towards my vision of future.

In Maui, I learned from my host how grow my own food using natural methods, how to fast. He inspires me to live off the grid, to pursue an alternative lifestyle and to work for my own food revolution.

In Molokai, I saw how to live off the land and how to nourish my body to optimum health. I experienced life on a yoga retreat, where the major projects were building structures of reclaimed materials and designing a raw food menu for guests visiting from their stressful lives. My friends inspire me to strive for my healthiest, happiest, most free self.

In Oklahoma I experienced a budding community of yogis and young families, coming together to live as a unit on a shared property, to build their homes by their own design and by their own hands, to grow their own food, and live as sufficiently as possible. They inspire me to seek out my own community and home.

In Tahoe, I spent a lot of time drinking coffee and eating waffles with an elderly man who lived by his own theory of happiness. Warren worked as a reverend in a bustling Tahoe wedding chapel, marrying people and acting as wedding photographer, firmly acting on his will that if he must work for money, he would do it working only with people in their happiest moments, to chose to bring happiness into his life. He would work doing what he enjoyed, so that it didn’t have to be hard or uncomfortable. He inspires me to earn my living doing what I love and what makes me happy, and to never sacrifice my happiness out of fear.

Now, in pursuing my own dreams, I hold what I’ve gained from each of my mentors and inspirations and something of each of them passes through my mind each day. I am designing my own life, based on what I’ve learned from each of these lives, and from what I continue to learn from my friends across the country, from my new friends aboard this boat, from the future lifestyles that I’ll be sure to encounter and experience. I’m a lifestyle anthropologist, and I get my inspiration from people living full, amazing lives.

{photo :  me getting dirty in my garden in Hawaii}

divider

The Quarter Life Celebration

posted 5th December 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Lindsey, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3

I remember reading something about this thing called a Quarter Life Crisis a few years ago and scoffing at the idea. I KNEW what I was doing. I was on a fast-track path to career success, so a little thing like the QLC would definitely not be something in my world.

Hah! The term stuck around in my head, so that when I suddenly realized I was entering crisis mode, I immediately googled “Quarter Life Crisis” and found a slew of blogs and articles from equally confused twenty-somethings. The QLC is very real for many people, especially those without a clear vision of their future. (So… everyone?) We’ve been told how to live our lives far beyond our teens (go to college, get a degree, get a job, climb the ladder, buy a house, etc, etc, etc), and the second there is time to question this, and realize a U-turn is in order, we’re so far along a path it’s painful to turn around. Change is hard, especially when it involves changing your whole life perspective.

Despite feeling down and out for much of my crisis – I am incredibly grateful for it. I don’t have everything figured out, and I’m still unsure where I plan to go with my life. But I do know that this crisis, or whatever it is, allowed me to stop. Finally just STOP driving myself crazyface towards a career. And think: What do I want? What do I value? What experiences and achievements are actually going to matter when I’m 30? 40? 50?

I’m so incredibly grateful that our generation has the opportunity to assess our lives. Even if we have to call it something kind of cheesy.

I have been living “on the fringe” for almost two years now. I do what I want (snowboarding at world-class resorts! living on the beach in Hawaii! sailing around the Caribbean!) and while it is totally awesome, I typically find myself in situations where I’m explaining my story to people in their middle age. “Do it while you’re young.” They ALWAYS say that. As if it’s inevitable that I’ll soon find myself in their shoes… bogged down by a mortgage, a million screaming kids and a mediocre job that barely breaks even.

I always smirk to myself at that comment. Of course, I have no idea what my future holds. But I do know that I have been given the chance to evaluate my life, and I can consciously choose to live my awesome life, however I want to. And this evaluation was only possible through my dear QLC.

But, I do think crisis is a harsh word for a time that allows deep introspection and real, legitimate life-affirming moments.

The crisis occurs when you get that rude awakening of “Hey. This is my life. Like, right now, my LIFE is at stake and if I don’t shake some shit up right NOW then I am going to be miserable.” But if you allow yourself to get stuck in feeling like everything is in crisis – this is where the negative, woe-is-me type stuff starts to come up.

I declassified myself as being in crisis when I realized I was using the term to take the blame off myself. I was stuck in a rut and calling it my Quarter Life Crisis when really I should have been celebrating. Celebrating my redefined future! Celebrating the fact that I was making choices that I was proud of! Celebrating that I finally noticed my choices, and put my feelings into the mix.

The QLC is a very real thing, that is elusive in many ways. I’ve read a few articles and they LOVE to pull out the stats about how “far behind” Gen Y is with their milestones (move out, go to college, get a job, get married, have a kid) and that OH MY GOD in the 60s, 77% of women completed all “adult” milestones before age 25 while now, in the 2000s it’s a mere 30%.

Like, how relevant is that? In the 1960s what ELSE was there to do besides get married and have babies? What if I never get married? Does that mean I’m in an eternal QLC? Umm, no, it means that the people writing these articles have NO IDEA how to relate to a real 20-something beyond an irrelevant statistic.

Reality: we live in a time where we have more freedom than ever before to choose our paths. To do the things that make us happy. To live any kind of life we want. You might be at Stratejoy because you are afflicted by this Quarterlife Crisis, but my advice? Get over the crisis part. Celebrate the fact that YOU are finally standing up for your happiness. You are ready to make big scary changes. You are listening to your heart, and following your dreams.

This is a Quarter Life Celebration, people.

{{ photo credit : bfick }

divider

Religion, a Travel Perspective

posted 28th November 2010    Written by: Lindsey    CATEGORY: Lindsey, Season 3, Spirituality, Travel

I lived in Turkey for a semester in college, where, although technically a secular nation, the population and recent history are primarily Muslim. The city of Istanbul is filled with beautiful mosques, intricate Islamic art, and an echoing call to prayer warbled out of every mosque’s speaker system five times a day. I’d frequently traipse across the city, filled to the brim with everyone from businessmen, to hunched over old women hawking packs of tissues, to giggling children, to the ever-present Turkish man, identifying my American-ness from miles away, to slyly mutter “cok guzel…” (very beautiful…) as I walked past. To shed my shoes and step onto the soft carpet of the empty mosque in between prayer was overwhelmingly peaceful.

It was my first exposure to Islam, still coming as an outsider, from a primarily Christian nation, and a Christian upbringing. I felt no threat to my personal belief system as I watched barefooted men on their knees on the ornately patterned carpets, offering up their prayers. I felt only peace, glad that there was this place for these men to be still and quiet and reflective, in the midst of a bustling city.

I questioned religion, and my own experience. How could I claim that the services I attended were more righteous than these services? How could I argue that one way of expressing love to God was better than another? It started to seem that religion was more exclusive than inclusive. That there were battles of HOW to love God, when in the end, all this religion stuff was a different way of celebrating a higher power full of love.

The memories I have of the Methodist church I grew up in, were of serving my community. The motto was “all are welcome.” There was an an open door kitchen every week to feed anyone in our community. We had an annual fundraiser for world hunger. In high school, while all my fellow National Honor Society members were scrambling for community service work, I had mine completed halfway through the year via my own personal children’s education project in the church basement. It was an awesome, inspired community to be part of.

I never felt exclusion as a part of this religion. But as I was exposed to more and more opinions of religion, as I went to away to college, and traveled more, I found a general consensus that religion was accepting one story as fact, and refusing all the rest.

This weekend I was watching Donnie Darko (again!), and on the subject of God, he hypnotically rambles, “It’s like I could spend my whole life debating it over and over again, weighing the pros and cons and in the end I still wouldn’t have any proof so I just… I just don’t debate it anymore.”

There’s no right answer to the religion question. So I’m not going to argue.

I think religion is a beautiful way to connect to a higher power, and with others who seek this connection. But any extremism, exclusion, or control by a man-made system… count me out.

As I’ve grown up, I have stepped away from identifying with a specific belief system. I have deep respect for Islam and Christianity, as they are the religions I know most about. I have been practicing meditation and self-knowledge through a variety of Eastern religions and yogic philosophies. I am always moved when I am a part of a spiritual service, of any type. It’s exhilarating to feel the electricity in the air of a group of people celebrating life and God.

In the end, I just think it’s all about love and kindness. Operating by a moral code that encourages positivity in the human spirit.

My mission is “to share life and love in a beautiful world” and I guess we can say that’s my spiritual guideline as well.

divider

« Previous Page — Next Page »