Hola from Peru

Dear readers, through a generous twist of fate, I find myself in Peru for a week with my dear friend Jan. Life is bueno. Muy bueno.

We spent the first twenty four hours in Lima. I was reminded of my mom´s saying, "If your standards are low enough you can have fun anywhere." Many people in our group weren´t impressed with Lima, and I´ve been better places, but for the mother of a 10 month old baby, I was honestly thrilled to sleep until 9 a.m., have a cup of coffee in a quiet hotel room, and enjoy the ocean view. Also, I got to take a nap later. That´s a damn good day.

Then today we landed in Cusco. If Lima felt like a generic city, Cusco is what I imagined Peru would be. Bright colorful textiles, old stone plazas, grand churches, baby llamas.

 

Cusco is literally breathtaking--at 12,000 feet, it is very difficult to breathe. When we landed I felt short of breath and light headed. My heart pounded. Very disconcerting. But I´d been hydrating all day, and I sat down while we waited for our luggage. When we arrived at the hotel, I immediately sat down and was served a cup of coca tea. This is what the locals drink to help with the altitude. It´s miraculous. After two cups I felt almost normal. So what if it´s made from the same plant that´s used to make cocaine? This is vacation after all.

After lunch in an ancient monestary, a bath in the sumptuous jacuzzi, and another nap, we headed to dinner. We are traveling with a super nice group of folks, eating and drinking like royalty, and not paying for any of it. A girl could really get used to this.

Maybe the best part of Cusco is our hotel. I feel like I´m living in a fairy tale. Not only does our bathroom have a jacuzzi and heated floors, it has a crystal chandelier. The hotel is a mansion from the 1600s, with these amazing antiques, paintings, chandeliers. Our room smells like cedar. The bell boy just gave us a lesson in local history and literature. I am loving every second. Just soaking it all in.

 

Tomorrow we go to Machu Picchu. My heart is already overflowing with joy and gratitude. They say that at Machu Picchu your heart opens, so stay tuned for that.

Good News, Bad News

The lovely Claire, who has been an invaluable support to me, creatively and emotionally, just told me that she got her dream job—hooray! And that it’s in Baltimore. Ug.

Like Anne of Green Gables, when I find a bosom friend, I want her to stay with me forever. I hold on to many of them, and I want Claire to be in that category. Unfortunately, long distance communication is not my strong suit, and I have learned that some people, in spite of how much we love them, fall away from our lives. So yes, I am thrilled that Claire has this opportunity, and yes, I am so sad that she’s moving away.

But on another level, seeing her dream come true gives me more hope in my own. I have journeyed with Claire, watched her discern what she wanted to do for work, try things that didn’t quite fit, adjust, try something else, and persevere despite setbacks. After this long road, success!  She has found a job that will use her considerable skills, where she will be valued and important. Seeing this come together for her helps me to keep believing in my own dreams, to keep trying, to keep doing the next thing.

Yet wouldn’t a writer need to be writing for their dream to come true? That’s what the inner critic asks. I suppose he has a point. With vacation, some drama, and less naps from Daniel, I have not put fingers to keyboard too often in the past few weeks. But rather than giving in to fear or self-doubt, I’m practicing breathing. I’m reminding myself what Havi says, that we can only work on one tiny corner of the garden at a time, but any work we do helps the entire garden thrive.

So, no critic, I have not written much these past two weeks, but I have seen a lawyer to write my will, made a long-feared doctor’s appointment, supported a friend in a very difficult time, and prepared for my trip to Peru. Inner critic says, “Havi’s theory is a crock. You just say that to make yourself feel better!” Man, he can be an asshole. I’ll channel Claire instead. She would tell me that I’m right on schedule. I’m working on believing her.

10 Sweetest Things

It's been so long since I've posted about Daniel, I'm afraid he'll get a complex. Months 7 and 8 were so sweet I wanted to freeze him in time. He is adorable, interactive, and not yet mobile--a dream baby. Here are my top 10 sweetest things about him right  now:

1. His intense hugs – when I wake him in the morning, he grabs my hair with both hands and presses his face into mine, like he wants to eat my face.
2. When I enter his room in the morning he kicks his legs, waves his arms, wiggles in full body delight. 
3. He takes two naps a day, and sleeps twelve hours at night. No fuss, no muss. I’m reluctant to type this for fear I will jinx it.
4. While sitting, he rocks his torso back and forth – a seated happy dance.
5.  He reaches his hand out with great longing toward people he loves (and lights, and his bottle.)
6. He flashes his gummy smile, still mostly gummy, with two bottom teeth and a giant top tooth starting to poke through.
7. He bounces and dances in his jumper for up to an hour, showing different levels of enthusiasm depending on the song. (Like his mamma, he favors something with a good beat.)
8. He gives air kisses when I say “Kissy.”
9. He holds his own bottle or sippy cup.
10. He stuffs food into his own mouth with great gusto, sitting in his high chair as long as we feed him.

What's sweet in your life right now?

Reclaiming St. Patrick's Day

My Irish grandparents, Pete and Dorothy Wade

Last Saturday, as I drove into the city to meet friends, I saw the telltale signs—yellow school buses, people staggering through traffic, shamrock Mardi Gras beads, kelly green shirts. I am proud to be Irish, but I didn’t think, “Great! A celebration of my heritage.” No, I thought, “Crap. There are going to be drunks everywhere.”

Now, I like a Guinness as much as anyone, but why is it that St. Patrick’s Day and Irish heritage celebrations bring out the worst of Irish culture—the annoying drunk? Maybe we just find what we look for—good or bad. So this morning I reminded myself that I can’t control what other people do or think. What I can do is choose how I want to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

So I put on green, including my Grandmom’s Claddagh pin. I visited some friends, called my mom, appreciated the blooming daffodils. With my new attitude, I saw people of all colors, wearing green, completely sober, and allowed that to warm my Irish heart. Maybe tonight I’ll make Grandmom’s roast beef dinner, eat some Irish potatoes, and listen to Blackthorn. Sounds like a party to me.

Learn to Love Running

As Spring approaches and we all leave our hibernating dens, come visit us at 4 Broad Minds to learn how to love running.

Be Your Own Valentine

If I've learned one thing over the past few years, it's that we cannot control other people. This realization, though frustrating, is also freeing. Because if I can't make anyone else do anything, I better take action to make myself happy.

Last week as I entered Trader Joe's, I stopped as I often do, to admire the flowers. And then I thought, what the hell? I'll buy myself some roses. After unpacking the groceries, I remembered I have a beautiful Waterford crystal vase that belonged to my Grandmom. I trimmed the roses, washed the vase and arranged them to my liking. They have brightened my mood every time I've seen them in the past week, which is certainly worth the $4.99 I paid for them.

Do I like my husband to buy me flowers? Of course. I love flowers. I love feeling appreciated. But knowing that I don't have to wait for him to do it is liberating. I can love myself. And I must. And when I do, I don't need anyone else to show me that I'm loved, because I know that I am.

A gorgeous, funny, smart woman I know died on Friday. She was 29 years old. Her beautiful spirit shone brightly, overflowing into those blessed enough to know her. You could feel the love she had for herself. We can't control if we have a Valentine or how that Valentine behaves, but we can do something nice for ourselves this Valentine's Day. Life is too short to wait around for someone else to make you feel loved. Go ahead and treat yourself. Be your own Valentine.

Overcoming Resistance

I heard a speaker on Friday say that our internal resistance to change gets in our way more than anything else. He talked about goals and dreams and attitudes, and it was all very inspiring. But after hearing all of his great ideas about change and possibilities, I felt too overwhelmed to do anything at all. (He predicted this would happen.) 

So I drove home, ate lunch, put Daniel down for a nap and then tried to remember how I have overcome resistance in the past. My best trick is to think of the smallest possible step I can take. After a baby-induced hiatus, I wanted to get back to selling my novel. So I thought, okay, what’s the smallest possible step I can take in that direction? I decided I could just look for the list of agents I made last year. Walking up the stairs towards my office, I felt enormous resistance. Apparently, there is some biological basis for our minds wanting things to stay the same. My feet felt heavy, but I found the list. Then I looked at it, then I opened my query letter and started tinkering, and before I knew it, I had some momentum and was happily working.

The journey of a thousand miles does begin with the first step. And so often, if I can take the first step, I can take a second, third, and before I know it, I’m just walking. The speaker on Friday said you can either be in the game or at the game, and I want to be in it. As painful, scary or embarrassing as it is to try sometimes, I’d rather be wiping out in the water than sitting on the beach watching.

How do you overcome resistance?