Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, moving, Seattle on July 7, 2016| Leave a Comment »
My moving truck is supposed to arrive sometime today, so by this evening I will theoretically have a REAL BED. And also a couch! And also places to put things! And more sweaters! And trash cans!
This is very exciting for me. I can’t wait to start nesting properly. I can’t wait to have a sock drawer again! I can’t wait to turn this into a real home.
Here, have a photo of Nala sunbathing:
Yes, it turns out there is sun in Seattle. Once in a while, at least. š
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, friendship, moving, new life, Seattle on July 5, 2016| Leave a Comment »
I am in Washington! As I write this, I have been at my new home for about sixty hours, and so far, it has been quite a whirlwind.
Less than four hours after I picked up my apartment keys, I hopped into my car and drove across to my first Seattle party. So far I have been to two parties and am about to go to my third. I have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond, Target, Safeway, and Pet Smart. I have enjoyed the view from Lake Union. I have gone dancing. I have explored a bit of the downtown of my little city, and I have played a bunch of air hockey. I have seen several friends and met a bunch of new people, almost none of whose names I can remember. I have, most important of chores, set up the internet. I have done a load of laundry to clean up the end-of-road-trip doggie vomit mess.
Nala and I have established our new daily walking route, and it is so exciting! There are some old abandoned railway tracks right behind our building, and if you follow them a little ways, they join with a lovely gravel walking path. The area is surrounded by trees, and it is the best daily walking spot weāve ever had. Weāve been taking longer walks than usual because itās so pleasant.
My apartment is not quiet. The downstairs neighbors play music all the time. The neighbors who share my bedroom wall had a loversā quarrel at 1:30am on Saturday night. Ear plugs are my friends. My allergies are acting up because of all the pollen-producing plant life around here. I woke up in the middle of the night when my air mattress deflated and ended up breaking my fingernail below the quick while fixing it, resulting in a throbbing and bleeding finger at 3:30 in the morning. Nala is nervous. One of my dance partners threw me around in an unexpectedly rough manner, and I hurt my shoulder before I could compensate for his use of force.
I am either too hot or too cold, but very rarely completely comfortable. Everyone in Seattle hangs out outdoors at night, even though itās cold. I sleep with my electric blanket turned on, even though itās July. I wish I had packed more sweaters. But then sometimes the sun comes out and because of all the layers from the time it was cold, it becomes suddenly sweltering.
Everywhere I look there is beauty.
I feel like I am living in a picture book my mom used to read me every year the night before the first day of school. āWill you be my friend?ā I donāt know who Iām going to see once in a while, and who Iām going to see all the time, and who Iām mostly going to see at parties, and who Iām going to see one-on-one. I donāt know who to ask to watch Babylon 5 with me, and I donāt know who would want to go to the theater with me, and I donāt know if I know any live music fans. I do know that I will be able to play board games to my heartās content and then some.
I know a lot of people here, and everyone so far has been so thoughtful and helpful and wonderful. And I see my friends, and I think, with a small jolt of surprise, oh my goodness, I really like you! This shouldnāt be a surprise, since this is one of the reasons I moved here, but nevertheless, it feels like an unexpected gift. Iāve spent the last few months managing my expectations like a pro.
I take comfort in the things that are the same. Nala is my touchstone. I listen to familiar albums in the car. I have a friend I message almost every day, and we still message almost every day. I still love pie, and otters, and Disneyland. The āiā key on my laptop still pops off all the time in a really annoying way.
Last night I dreamed it was Valentineās Day, and I was feeling sad, and then my friends threw a spectacular surprise party for me, and I was so happy to see everyone. And then I woke up, and I thought to myself, yes, of course. It feels like you are all right here with me.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, change, moving, Seattle on June 21, 2016| 1 Comment »
You burn your arm on the oven when youāre taking out the pizza. The burn turns into a weird blister. You put a band-aid on it and donāt look at it again because you donāt have time to have a burn on your arm right now.
You also have a mysterious bruise on your shoulder, sore arms, a sore neck, a sore back, sore legs, and youāre wearing your ankle brace all the time again because you donāt trust yourself to walk properly and not hurt yourself.
You have driven past your street or driveway by accident at least four times in the past week. Maybe more.
You struggle not to lose your patience with customer service representatives who take a ridiculous amount of time to do something that should take two minutes. You throw things away you never would have considered throwing away even a few months ago. You try to convince people to take random stuff because you know that otherwise it will go into the landfill, and it all feels like a huge waste.
You play and play and play your piano. And then you canāt bring yourself to play even though this is your last chance because itās just too fraught.
You cry when you think about selling your piano. You cry when you get a voicemail from your friend saying he thought maybe you could use hearing a friendly voice, because you could use it and then some. You donāt cry when they carry your beautiful table away because by this point you are somewhat numb.
You do cry after you get off the phone with the emergency vet tech, who tells you, yes, you Ā need to bring your little dog in right away because the crack in her fang could be serious and there are no appointments available on the weekend so Friday night it is. If there is anything that can break you, it is your little dogās health. You stand there and cry for five minutes, and you wish you had housemates or a boyfriend or family nearby, and then you coax the dog into the car and do what needs to be done, and now there are antibiotics twice every day, which isnāt so bad but is one more thing to remember.
Speaking of dogs, your dog is unhappy. She barks at the ceiling fan. She barks at the people who come over to get stuff. She barks more frantically than usual when she realizes youāre leaving. You tell her every day sheās coming with you, but she doesnāt speak English so communication is problematic.
Communication is difficult even when you speak the same language. You send endless messages to people. Itās all scheduling and logistics, and while you are okay, even good, at these things, you kind of hate them. You stare at your phone waiting for people to get back to you. They mostly get back to you after youāve pretty much given up on it happening. It must be like water not boiling until you look away.
You spend one miserable night lying there unable to sleep, which means you have way too many hours to think about every detail of the move. Now you take melatonin every night before bed. It seems to help.
People have a lot of opinions, and you disappoint some of them, and you are too tired to care. The weather in Seattle is bad. The weather in Seattle isnāt so bad. What, youāll move again if you donāt like it? What are you thinking? Why did you get an apartment in Bellevue? You should throw a goodbye party in your copious (read nonexistent) spare time. You should put your stuff up for sale on Craigslist. You say no a lot because there simply isnāt any wiggle room. You have the time you have, and it is extremely limited in quantity. At this point, if the other person in any given equation doesnāt make a lot of effort, itās not going to happen, and thereās nothing you can do about it.
You receive your first few invitations for Seattle, and you think, hmm, Iām not going to know anybody there. And then you think, wait, this is going to be the next several months of my life. And you get ready to steel yourself. In the meantime, you get to see a few of your closest friends more often than usual, and it is lovely, and you almost wish you could always be on the cusp of moving so you could always spend this much time with them.
You drink sparkling cider and you eat cranberry sauce from the can. More and more of your stuff is in boxes. You can tell how much you care about an object by how much paper you use to pack it.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, love, Nala on June 16, 2016| 2 Comments »
As I type this, Nala is lying in her bed and I am sitting in my easy chair where I always write, and we can see each other. She is drowsing, half sleeping and then cracking open her eyes to look at me. I am making silly noises at her and calling her nicknames.
We have lived with each other for seven years. Today is our adoption anniversary.
I have lived longer with Nala than I have lived with anyone aside from my nuclear family.
I feel like you canāt know me well without being aware of Nalaās existence in my life. I share photos of her all the time because they make me happy and I want to share that happiness with all of you. She is an essential component to the rhythm of my days. She loves it when I have friends over because she is so curious about people. Oh, and also sheās fond of getting more belly rubs.
Weāre moving out of state in less than two weeks. My days are filled with logistics and scheduling and making big decisions and packing and saying goodbye. Meanwhile, awful things are happening out in the world, and when I think about it (and how can I not think about it?) I feel like crying. Sometimes I do cry. And then I have to focus instead on whether I should pay to move my Billy bookcases or whether I should give them away, and what health insurance plan should I sign up for, and why hasnāt the welcome letter from my new complex come yet. And I have several friends who are having a difficult time right now, and Iām worried about them, and I donāt want to be dealing with moving, I want to be next to them giving them support. But I canāt because I have to be here. Itās a weird time.
In the middle of so much turmoil and change, I am especially appreciative of the things I can depend upon. I am afraid. I try not to problem compare, but I think of all the people who have so much more to be afraid of than myself right now, and this complicates my feelings even further. Even so, this is my reality. I am afraid. I think of being all alone in a new city in an empty apartment (because who knows how long it will take my stuff to arrive) and I am afraid.
And then I think of Nala. āNala will be there,ā I tell myself. And that fact, the fact of Nala, makes the fear navigable. She will roll around on the carpet and make funny snorting sounds. We can sit together on the floor in the dark. She will lick my arm. We can discuss her sentience or lack thereof, and she will be there when I cry and then realize I forgot to pack any Kleenex and end up draping toilet paper around the apartment like ghostly tear trails.
The ones we love canāt take away the fear or the pain or the struggle. What they can do is make it easier to sit with these things.
What they can do is make us feel like we arenāt alone.
I am so grateful to have Nala in my life.
She gives me something to emulate. I hope my words can make a few of you feel a little bit less alone too.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, change, moving, Seattle, taking risks on June 9, 2016| 2 Comments »
Iām not burying the lede this time, but Iād be happy to mix some metaphors. Iām taking a leap, starting a new chapter, and making the move up to Seattle in a few weeks.
What you are seeing here is a completely mythical sunny Seattle day.
Havenāt you been talking about this for a long time?
Yes, since my first visit to Seattle, in fact, which was in the spring of 2012. So this is definitely not what Iād call a spontaneous decision.
Didnāt you once make an April Foolās joke about moving to Seattle?
Yes, and I think it might be the only April Foolās joke Iāve ever made. But Iām moving for real this time, I promise.
Doesnāt it rain a lot there?
Yes, yes, it does.
Arenāt you afraid youāll get S.A.D. (seasonal affective disorder) and be absolutely miserable? Donāt many Californians move to Seattle and then come back?
I survived a winter in London, so Iām not hugely worried. But Iām also prepared to move again if I feel Iād be happier somewhere else. This is me weāre talking about, so I have a plan B. And a plan C. And a plan D, E, and Fā¦.
This is a big deal!
Yes, this is a really big deal. Some of you may not know that, aside from a year I spent living in London right after college, I have lived in the Bay Area my entire life. So moving to a new city in a new geographic region will be quite the adventure for me.
Are you for sure going to move?
Iāve put money down on an apartment, Iāve given notice at my current place, and Iāve reserved a moving truck, so Iām pretty sure this is going to happen. Iāve taken my time with this process, partly because I had other stuff I needed to do before moving and partly because I wondered if I would change my mind, given the chance. But I never did change my mind, so here we are.
What are you going to do in Seattle?
Pretty much what Iāve been doing in the Bay Area. Although itās not a stretch to suppose that living in a new place, I may try some new things. And Iāll definitely be meeting some new people.
What does this mean for me?
Well, if you live in the Bay Area, you might be seeing a bit less of me. If you live in the Seattle area, you might be seeing a bit more than me.
If you read the blog, I hope to write about my experiences living in a new place and creating a new life for myself there. I imagine Iāll have a lot of thoughts about it, and Iām pretty excited about what this could mean for the blog. We might be in for some interesting times ahead!
I have feelings about this!
Oh, wow, do I know. I have feelings too. Lots of them, and they run the gamut from excitement to terror.
How can I help?
My friends have been very supportive thus far, and I feel really lucky. If I am moving away from you, keep in touch; Iād love to hear from you! If I am moving near to you, invite me to do stuff; Iād love to not be a hermit!
If you read the blog, Iād appreciate your patience. I might be writing here sporadically or not at all over the next few weeks as I orchestrate this move. If I am quiet here or elsewhere on social media, it is because I am very busy. But Iāll be back soon enough.
You still havenāt said WHY youāre moving.
Yeah, this is the most common question I receive, after some comment about the weather. The decision to move out-of-state is a complicated one, and Iām not moving for any one reason. The easiest reason to give is that itās a financial decision, and it is true that Iāll be saving money living in Washington, and I am looking forward to that.
The more accurate reason is that it feels like the right time to move on. While there have been plenty of challengesĀ in execution, this wasnāt at its heart a difficult decision for me to make. I gave myself a lot of chances to turn back, but I never wanted to take them. On the whole, I have felt exceptionally grounded about uprooting my life and trying something new.
That is not to say I donāt feel sad to be leaving. I will miss my friends here a great deal. I will miss the sunshine. I will miss the place where I grew up. I will miss the sense of personal history I get from so many of the places I go. I expect I might be horribly homesick, and then I will write about it, and we will see what there is to learn from that.
But it is time. And so I am going.
Letās see what this next chapter holds, shall we?
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, change, future, moving forward, planning, vision on May 31, 2016| Leave a Comment »
The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new. – Socrates
When you want something you have never had, you have to do something you have never done. – W S Bloom
I have been thinking about my future. Not next week, not a few months from now, not even next year. Iāve been trying to think about my longer term future, and what I would like to see, and what concrete steps I can take to work towards that vision.
I havenāt been thinking much about my future the last few years. Iāve been thinking about now, and Iāve been thinking about a few months from now, and I havenāt been seeing more than a year out from where I am at any given time. Itās been good to practice flexibility, and itās been good to take the time to figure out what I want. Not based on convention or what anyone else I know is doing or what other people think I should do or be, but based on actual me. What I want and what I think is important.
I find having a vision to really help with my focus. Having spent the last few months honing my vision, Iāve begun to see that many of the details are extraneous. They donāt matter. It feels like they matter; it feels, in fact, like they are huge life-altering decisions. But sometimes all the big flashy external stuff is merely a blind for whatās going on inside. And being able to focus on the inside stuff brings a lot of clarity along with it.
Itās not always the specifics of a vision that matter. You have the vision, and then you figure out some specifics to get you there. But you could figure out a whole different set of specifics that may very well get you to the same place. Whatās important, then, is figuring out where youāre generally trying to go. In order to pick specifics, in order to confidently make changes, it helps to know what you want.
Details are a bridge, but you can always build another bridge further down.
I feel like this is easier for some people to achieve than others. I ask a lot of questions, and that can mean itās more complicated to figure out what I want. I kind of tried to follow a common middle-class American life road map, but I was never completely on board with it, and then it turned out to not be what I wanted at all.
And then thereās the blindness that can come with experience. You donāt have something in your vision not because itās necessarily not possible, but because itās outside what has happened to you personally. Sometimes our expectations for what is possible can end up being set too low, and it doesnāt even occur to us to shoot for something more. And sometimes we donāt add something to our vision because it doesnāt occur to us that it is even an option.
I have discovered that Socrates was a wise guy (not that this should be news!) I have spent a lot of time in my life fighting the old. I have this weird idea that if I simply try hard enough, I can fix anything. I say itās weird because it is patently false.
But when I focus on building something new instead of fixing or trying to prop something up, thatās when I tend to make actual progress. Thatās when my vision begins to clear, and I think, āOh yeah. I do know what I want. Huh. How about that.ā
And thatās when things really begin to change. Ā
(P.S. Iām going to be traveling, so thereās going to be a short break in our regularly scheduled programming. See you in a bit!)
Posted in Grief, Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, change, emotions, grief, pain on May 26, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Change hurts.
Sometimes change hurts a lot.
I find that change hurts a lot when it cuts close to the bone, when it touches on something deep from the past, when it challenges some long-held belief or defense mechanism that you desperately do not want to let go of, because to hold onto it equates to survival in your own mind. Even if that is no longer the case. You might be reliving a reality that is long gone.
Change hurts.
You may be sitting there, and you notice that youāre breathing. You take a breath in, and then you take a breath out. And youāre surprised, not even surprised, shocked. Not because you were trying to hold your breath, but because it seems inconceivable that you are still breathing at all. It seems unbelievable that the entire world hasnāt frozen in place.
You may be afraid to move because there is a knife lodged somewhere deep inside of you, and any movement could shift it, and any shift could drive it deeper still, or cause it to cut some critical artery that means you bleed out. You are afraid to move physically, you are afraid to move emotionally. The pain is balanced so precariously, and your main focus is keeping it there instead of letting it slip.
Change hurts, and sometimes the pain makes it feel like the change might not be the right thing to do. Because if this change was so good, why would it hurt so much?
This is a lie. Sometimes positive change hurts a hell of a lot. It hurts for a reason. It hurts because it is hard for you to do something different. Or maybe it hurts because you are afraid. Or maybe it hurts because you just jammed a surgical instrument into an old wound and ripped it back open again so it could finally heal cleanly.
That is not to say itās a good idea to seek pain simply for painās sake. Itās okay for things to be easy sometimes. Itās okay for things to be good. Itās okay to let yourself be happy.
The truth is, the pain is just the pain. It doesnāt tell you what to do. It simply tells you something is going on, and whatever it is, you might need to pay some attention to it. You might want to think about how you are going to respond to it. Maybe there is something active you want to do, or maybe you just want to sit there with the pain for a while. Maybe both.
Nowadays, when I have the time and space, I try not to hide from the pain. I donāt confront it either. I exist with it. I let it be with me. I bring my mind back from all of its distraction techniques and circular games. I want so badly to castigate myself, because this distracts me more effectively than almost anything else, but every time I start, I simply stop and redirect. No, Iām going to be kind. No, Iām going to be kind. Over and over, for however long it takes until it settles.
And then there is the pain I was trying so desperately to avoid. And it is terrible. It is the knife in my gut, it is the air in my lungs, it is naked and wretched and it is a part of me.
Change hurts.
And then it dissipates, and it is sad but also clean, and it is hard but also okay. Sometimes another wave of grief comes later, and another, and another, but once youāve allowed one to wash through you, the worst of the terror is gone. It simply hurts. And then it hurts less. And then it hurts more. And then it hurts less again.
Change hurts. And then you come out on the other side.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, favorites, music, songs on May 24, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Here are a few of my favorite songs right now.
I’m also super into Portishead’s cover of SOS. It can be tricky to find but is so worth the effort. I want to listen to it over and over. Actually, IĀ have listened to it over and over, but I need to listen to it EVEN MORE.
I’m also learning to cover Ruth B’s Lost Boy, which hasĀ been fun. I haven’t had much time (read: pretty much none) to practice the last few months, so I’m really happy to be singing and playing the piano again.
Yes, I know this isn’t the most in-depth blog post, but I spent the day visiting my mom’s ashes, so that was an important thing to do. It’s interesting how familiar Marin County still feels to me. I hardly ever go there (I think the last time was at least a year and a half ago, and the time before that was probably at least another year), but I learned it so well I guess in a way it will always feel like home.
It’s a comforting thought.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged Amy Sundberg, depth, friendship, listening on May 17, 2016| 1 Comment »
I am interested in depth.
I was talking to a friend who was sad because she had wanted to spend all day with a close friend of hers, and then that friend booked herself so theyād only have a few hours instead. My friend was sad because this would mean they wouldnāt have a chance to go deep. āWeāll only just have gotten warmed up, and then sheāll have to go,ā she said.
I had this conversation as I was planning my LA trip, and as a result I didnāt make as many social plans as I might otherwise have done. I wanted to allow time to relax, get comfortable, and potentially go deep. What I found bore this strategy out: the longer I spent with someone, the deeper we were able to go.
One reason I like Rainforest is because it encourages depth.
Perhaps this is particularly true of people who you donāt get to see in person all the time, but I found the first couple of hours was usually spent with general catching up, some small talk, and just kind of remembering what it was like to be together. Then the conversation would gradually deepen, circle around, come back again, deepen some more, repeat a few times. The longer the amount of time, the deeper we could go.
What do I mean by deep here? Just by seeing each other in the first place, my friends and I were strengthening our connection to each other. But depth is when you move beyond small talk, beyond what youād say to more or less anybody. Depth is when there are no more pat answers. Depth is where surprises happen, and reveals. Depth is when we say things that are scary. Depth is when we really learn who the other person is, beyond their basic preferences and interests and obvious personality traits.
Depth is the experience of sharing what it is to be human, and what it is to be this specific human right now.
Just as depth takes a bunch of time to foster in any given interaction, it also takes time to develop in any given friendship. Perhaps if you meet someone in a particularly intense circumstance (Clarion, anybody?), you can move into depth more quickly than normal. But more often youāre acting on a mere feeling that depth might be possible here if you invest enough of yourself. Sometimes that feeling pays off, and sometimes it never does. To find out, you have to take time.
The people with whom I am closest all have this quality of depth. I never grow tired of hearing about their lives and what theyāre thinking and feeling. When Iām in their presence, I feel something inside of me relax. Thank goodness we can be real together, Iām thinking. Thank goodness I donāt have to put on an act to make them comfortable.
Thank goodness we can love each other for who we are.
Posted in Life, Uncategorized, tagged action, alone, Amy Sundberg, answers, identity, loneliness, meaning, motivation, questions on May 12, 2016| 2 Comments »
āLive the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.ā – Rainer Maria Rilke
I have been re-reading bits of Letters to a Young Poet and then I found this cool site called zenpencils.com that illustrates quotations and poems in a comic-like style, and they recentlyĀ did this Rilke quotation, and it seemed timely. So here we are. (The latest one they did is a Lang Leav one, which I also highly recommend, especially because I love Lang Leav’s poetry.)
Itās nice to think about living into an answer, but I think we are always living our questions. And the answers simply lead to more questions. Sometimes life seems to me to be one giant experiment. You can follow blueprints left by other people, some of which are more detailed than others. Or you can strike off on your own and see what happens. But itās all about questions, starting with the simple āWhat will happen next?ā
I ran into a friend at a party some time ago, and he said he reads the blog from time to time, and he told me how idyllic it seemed, that I got to sit around and ponder the big questions. And I do. Thatās exactly what I do. I spend a lot of time sitting around and thinking. So hereās another question for you: Why? Why do I sit around and ponder the big questions? And why do I get to do this? And does it have any outward effect whatsoever?
Iām reading a book about playwriting, and I have learned that the āactionā of the play is what the characters want. This idea will be familiar to anyone who has studied any kind of storytelling for more than a few months. (Weeks? I donāt remember, I just remember it is foundational.) So then some of the other questions we live are āWhat do we want?ā and āAre we going to get it?ā and āAre we going to keep it?ā and āIs it going to change?ā
I spent several hours on the phone this past weekend with a friend who is going through a break-up after spending more than twenty years not being single. āFriends arenāt the same,ā this person told me. āI feel so alone.ā And I felt a jolt of surprise that this was a revelation, even though after twenty years, of course it was. Yes, being single means being alone in a different way. How do we become okay with this? How did I come to this almost benign acceptance of yes, that is really how it is? And then another question: who am I when Iām alone? Who am I when Iām not fulfilling a role that is at least partially defined by my relationship to someone else?
These are questions that have been occupying my spare moments lately. Who am I when I strip everything away? When I put aside relationships to friends, family, a lover? When I subtract job and career and calling? When I suspend my hobbies, my interests? When I forget about my past? When I am no longer concerned with status, power, wealth, influence, and ego? Who am I then?
Who am I then? I am living that question. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. I am present. I am living into answers that will give me more questions, and my curiosity will be my fuel.
The Practical Free Spirit 