In Reverence of Independence and the Free Spirit

For Independence Day this year, I’m not meditating for ten days in a green field in Washington again. I’m not barbequing tofurkey on the porch of a cramped studio in Queens like I did in 2013 either.

No, this year I’m back at my second home in Portland, Oregon, stuffing myself with steak and watermelon and cobbler. Baby talk and family gossip too.

Disclosure: this isn’t the kind of blog post I am used to writing on The Rich Life. Admittedly, its less instructional and whole lot more personal. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel a little (a lot) vulnerable. Here goes.

Basically, I know that I’ve taken a noticeable hiatus from the site, and I’m writing to apologize. I would blame it on Mercury being in retrograde- and though I do believe it had something to do with my absence this past month- I know it’s more than that.

In all transparency, I’ve been lacking clarity and direction for The Rich Life. Lately, I haven’t felt like I’ve truly been living in accordance with what I advocate. I’ve felt inauthentic. Conflicted. Confused.

In my search for security over the past year- for a place to call home, a relationship to ground me, a career to create a sense of meaning and stimulate my creativity- I lost myself. Like walking in Times Square with a dead iPhone and no sense of where I’m supposed to go. I felt like that newcomer to NYC, all caught up in the crowd of snap-happy tourists distracted by the bright lights and excessiveness.

Mostly I realize that in the last year, I have somehow forgotten how to trust myself.

This revelation became very clear to me this week when, for the first time since I was involved in a traumatizing car accident in South Africa in 2012 (and really the first time since I left home to live abroad over four years ago)—I got behind the wheel of a car and drove. On my own.

It may seem silly. Trivial. Overdramatic even. Really, it wasn’t more than a twenty-minute drive and I’ve certainly not resigned my bus pass. But getting behind that wheel was a big deal for me. Granted I did circle the block a few times trying to avoid the dreaded parallel, I parked the car feeling shaky but empowered. Still a bit terrified but alive.

Aside from overcoming the trauma of that incident in South Africa, getting behind the wheel again represented me taking control of my life, being accountable to my decisions, and most importantly, exercising agency and free will without the blame or disappointment or regret of living restrained by some one else’s actions. Some other person or circumstance in the driver seat of my life.

See, in the last year I had lost the ability to trust myself; to trust my capability to make wise decisions; and to trust that those things I didn’t or couldn’t control would (as they always have) “work out in the end.”

I trusted in everything and everyone else but myself—and as to be expected, I was always let down.

I clung to circumstances and people in my life like sand — and in the end, the more tightly I held onto these things, the more the grains fell through the cracks of my fingers. I couldn’t let go gracefully, because I saw so clearly in my head how I wanted my life to be and how I was going to get it there. So I ignored the signs and my own intuition in lieu of my Grand Master Plan.

Because sometimes its easier that way, to ignore your inner compass and continue pursuing the path of least resistance—at least for a season. Then life (God, a higher power) has a way of reminding you that you’re not in control. A way of guiding you back when you’re doing it all wrong.

Like driving. Or, as is the case with my adorable six-month old cousin, crawling for the first time. Not being in control of every aspect of your life (ie: impending traffic, distracted pedestrians) can be terrifying. But sometimes realizing your own strength and capabilities to operate within that uncertainty is even more scary. I can drive (defensively of course) all the way up to Toronto if I wanted. And that is a powerful realization.

So when life happens (as it is surely will) this is what you do. You pick yourself up from the punches. You roll with it. Go with the flow, and all that. You embrace your imperfections, forgive the shortcomings of others. You do what you can with what you got. You make decisions based not on impulse, but on your own trusted intelligence and intuition. You don’t second guess yourself. You stop apologizing for things beyond your control.

Maybe like me, you pack everything you own into two suitcases and move across the country.

Maybe you spend some quality time with the people who really know you, the old and ugly parts of you too; who love you enough to call you out on things; who know the wrong buttons to push; and who also know the right flavor of ice cream to feed you when you’ve been pushed too far.

Maybe you spend some time taking yourself on dates. Quality dates. Ones you’ve never been on simply because no one ever asked. Take yourself out without waiting for someone else to make the move. Give yourself permission to buy that double chocolate sprinkled Mister Softee; to ride the ferry across the Hudson and take selfies unapologetically; to cry at a movie because its a good movie and not because you’re watching it alone with an overpriced, family-size tub of popcorn. Enjoy that tub of popcorn that you don’t have to share.

Maybe you do all these things. Or maybe you don’t. The main thing I want to leave you with is a piece of wisdom I’ve acquired in the past month, drawn from my collective experiences this past year and beyond. Maybe it will help you. Or maybe it won’t.

Just remember: You are capable of handling every circumstance that swerves into your lane in life. Trust yourself. You are armed with the wisdom and strength to make the choices right for you. So make them. Own them. Stop looking in the rearview mirror.

Also, I promise to get back on the blog with more of the regular content. Hope you enjoyed the interlude though.