5 Happy Habits

Fortunately, 90% of my life is spent in a state of absolute happiness. Unfortunately, when other people ask me what my trick is, I don’t really know how to explain it.

I’ve comprised a list of my top 5 "happy habits". They might take a while to become habits, but they do have an immediate effect. For me, at least.

Start mornings right.

I take an extra five minutes in the morning to tell the universe how my day is going to go. Because I am the boss. I say things like “I am happy”, “I am loved”, “I am divine”, and especially, “Today will be a good day.”

To think that someone sits in their bed and says these things out loud first thing in the morning is totally absurd. But it always seems to be the most asinine things that have real results. Try this the next time you wake up and see how much positivity you can muster up in just the first few minutes of your day, furthermore, the lasting effect it has on the rest of your day!

Rock out in your car.

I believe in being that person at the red light going crazy because whatever song is on is the best song in the world. Specialize your playlists, choose your music wisely, and don’t be afraid to walk to the beat sometimes.

Personally, I don’t listen to sad songs. I like to leave those for funerals and the first 5 minutes after a break up until you realize life goes on. I’m very cautious of what slow songs I listen to, and for the most part, a lot of (if not all) of the music I listen to is upbeat, fast with meaningful or inspirational lyrics, or just puts me in a good mood.

If you're wondering who I've got in my playlist, it's a fine mix of Sara Bareilles, Corinne Bailey Rae, Kelly Clarkson, Katy Perry, Nelly Furtado, and a few men. Occasionally.

Keep to-do lists.

I started keeping a to do list when I was in high school because I found myself making “mental notes” in my head of things that needed to get done that never quite got finished.

I read about a study that scientifically proved the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that comes from the act of scratching something off a list. So I made an arts and crafts project of it and got a decorative notepad. On it, I would write down the smallest tasks like vacuum my car, or send an email. Sometimes the tasks were much larger, like booking a flight ticket or looking at new cars. Big or small, without the proper motivation, it’s hard to get them done.

Verbally communicate with yourself. Like, out loud.

Self-communication is one of the most rewarding habits. First it teaches you how to be comfortable with yourself. The more you talk, the more you have to say, and before you know it you’ll be talking about things you didn’t even know were on your mind, but sure feel good to let out.

Secondly, it teaches you to listen to yourself, and truly understand what it is your inner self is trying to say. Get in the habit of turning down your music (when you’re not rocking out in your car), and turning up your voice.

Be appreciative.

I always wonder how I can be so happy without even really having lived yet. I’m only 21, I’m still in university, and I’ve only travelled once. While some adults might think that the reason I am so happy is because I haven’t experienced the “real world” yet, I beg to differ.

I’ve learned the value of what I already do have in my life, so much that when I’m actually out there in the real world with things that bring me true happiness (my career, my children, home ownership) come in to my life it will just be an added bonus.

I believe that my experience in the “real world” will just be an elevated feeling of what I already feel. Sure, the reality of debt and job loss and stresses of home ownership and a sickening load of other haunting ideas are out there, but until I get there, my attitude remains unchanged, and will probably remain unchanged even if I find myself in the face of those realities. 

To be honest, I just have this crazy gut feeling that my future will play out just as my day does when I wake up in the morning and tell it how to go. 

Because I find happiness in the smallest, most minuscule things. Sometimes it doesn’t even have to do with me. Seeing other people happy, remembering something that makes you laugh so hard your tummy starts to hurt, a day where your make-up or hair turned out just as you had hoped, maybe even better, or sharing a moment with a stranger you might never see again.

There is a line in a Sheryl Crow song that sums this up perfectly. “It’s not having what you want; it’s wanting what you’ve got.”

Ultimately, we make of our lives and ourselves what we are able to. Our ability depends on the power we believe we have, and our belief in that power depends on our ability to see beyond just being human. And if being human is really all that we are, then you look around at the world we've created and tell me that isn't enough. 

The Power of Choice

Driving home last night to my favorite radio program called “Intelligence for Your Life”, I heard something remarkable. It went like this:

“The more choices we have, the more likely we are to sample more things.”

The host had been talking about a study that was conducted that proved that people ate up to 40% more at restaurants with longer menus.

This got me thinking about the place I used to be in my life where I felt that, for some reason, I had no choices. And I surely didn’t only mean food. Romantically, I felt my choices were limited. I felt that my options for my future were limited. I felt that financially, I would be stuck where I was. I felt very confined.

Over time, I opened myself up to the reality that the world is pretty big, and that the world is pretty much mine and I grew to realize and understand that there are choices everywhere.

When I first started dating, my logic was that if I always dated someone who was not as smart as me, not as good looking as me, and not as accomplished as I was, that I wouldn’t have to compete against other women and my position in his life would be secured.

For the longest time, I would date guys with criminal records, guys that already had a kid, and guys who didn’t work. I felt that because I had what they didn’t (except for the children), that they would appreciate me more.

The funny thing about men and humans in general, is that we are not programmed like that.

In fact, things worked the opposite way.

Because I was a little farther ahead than them, they used me and my resources to try and catch up. They weren’t trying to better themselves, they just wanted to reap the rewards of things they might not ever see without doing the work I had done. They wanted to be driven around in my car without having one of their own, use my money for things because they had none, have me babysit their child while they would do I don’t know what.

At some point in time, I got sick of it all.

I didn’t throw my hands up in the air and hate the rest of the world. I didn’t look at it as time wasted, or money wasted, even though there were times the money I spent on them would have come in handy. I didn’t hate these men, and I surely didn’t hate myself.

I realized there was more out there for me.

So I heightened my standards. I raised the bar so high that it may have been a little bit above me.

The thing is, if you don’t acknowledge your worth, and state that over and over again relentlessly, whether it’s out loud or in your head or to your friends or your potential partners, you will always get less than 

what you deserve.

The worst part is that you’ll be living in this crazy mental state where you can actually convince yourself you’re happy, but deep down inside the honest part of you is wondering why you’re selling yourself short.

I know there are a ton of people, young and old, black and white, who have either been in my situation, or are still in my situation. And I know that you wake up in the morning and feel a disparity between the love you have in your heart for your partner, and the love you want to have for your partner, that not even the crazy mental state can fake.

I know that you hear your own voice in your head saying, “I deserve better” everytime you get in an argument and they say something a little too mean, or slam the door in your face yet again.

And you know what? That voice in your head is right.

But for some reason, you won’t leave. You can’t leave. You feel like you’re in too deep. You have too many pictures together on social media and you don’t want everyone to know you broke up. Or, quite simply, you feel like you’re better off semi-happy with this person because you’re not sure there is more out there for you.

Please rethink that.

Ultimately, every second of your life is a time to be critical and a time to evaluate your choices. Because every second of your life you spend pleasing someone else at the cost of your own happiness is detrimental to your overall well-being and your overall experience of what it means to truly live.

The more you open yourself up to love, the more abundantly it comes to you.

What that means is, when you open your mind, heart, and soul up to love, it comes in your direction and flows through your body because you are able to receive it. It’s more than someone just saying, “I love you” just enough to get you to believe it, but letting their actions create doubt and fear in your mind and heart that it isn’t true.

Actions speak louder than words.

The thing is…we have this idea that the only love that exists is romantic love. So not true.

There is love everywhere.

Have you ever seen the greeting an owner gets from their dog after a long day at work? That's love. Have you ever seen the way a newborn looks at their mother while being breastfed? That's love.

All of these things are reminders that love exists, love is real, and love is waiting for you. But the kind of love you desire won’t come until you’re ready, and maybe even a bit after. Because you still need to spend time loving yourself. And over time you will.

Not in a narcissistic way, but in a way that you truly grow to understand why that voice in your head was telling you that you deserve better. You will even grow to believe that. And in time, you will respect yourself so much more for gathering the strength to walk away.

Ironically enough, sometimes the kind of love we experience can hold us back from the kind of love we should experience. Instead of opening the world up, it closes it, and leaves us with nowhere to turn, and no beautiful scenery to look at.

As short as life is, it’s also very long. And you don’t want the balcony that overlooks the garbage dumps at the bottom of your run-down apartment building. You want to overlook the water and have a city view. Don’t just settle for the unit because the landlord tells you there are no other units available.

You tell that landlord that you’ll find another building.

Having an abundance of choices does nothing if you do not have the strength to choose something other than what you've always chosen, or date someone different than who you've always dated. And you will never, ever know how good something on the menu tastes if you are too afraid to order it.

But the best part of all of this is that if you don't like it, you can send it back to the kitchen and order something else. You can ask the chef to make your dish a special way. And even then, if that chef says no, you can leave the restaurant and cook your own damn dish...

In your apartment that overlooks the water and has the city view.  

Investing in Yourself, Your Future, and Your Happiness

My recent lack of writing can be attributed to three things: summer, school, and the re-discovery of things I thought I had learned long ago.

Sure, maybe the equation doesn’t add up to justifiable inactivity lasting almost two months, but as any writer would know, inspiration (and I mean the type of inspiration that makes you produce masterpieces), is very hard to come by.

Unfortunately, despite Eat, Pray, Love being my favorite book (and second favorite movie next to Home Alone 3), I have no Elizabeth Gilbert tale to tell you. I went to Barbados, not Bali, and ate roti by Rockley Beach, not pizza in Naples. Nonetheless, I still learned a ton of things that they don’t teach you in school. 

Again.

School started last week, and as I sat in class the first day, I watched on as second-year students flooded the room. So naïve, and so untouched, almost, I envied them. They didn’t work full-time like me. They didn’t have another three years left like me. They didn’t have to pay for parking like me. I was quite miserable. In the midst of my mental complaining, a beautiful woman walked in and stood at the head of the class.

I watched the other students look at her, thinking the same thing as me through their expressions, “That’s the Professor?”

All class long I tried to focus, but was almost distracted by how strikingly beautiful she was. At some point, very early on, I decided I wanted to be just like her.

I thought about all the complaining I had done earlier on, and figured she too, had been in my exact situation, maybe just ten years prior. Perhaps she had thought this will never end, just like I did. But some way, somehow, she got through it. And there she was, radiant at the front of the classroom.

It must have been her attitude that pulled her through. That, along with her dedication to the study of diaspora and transnationalism, totally evident by how she lectured us that day.

I, too, was dedicated to something. And that was journalism. After reminding myself of my own passion, and where I intended to go with my studies eased my worries (and my complaining), and I was finally able to pay attention.

After class, I went for my first follow-up appointment after having my braces put on in August. Yeah, I’m 21 with braces. The only thing I feared worse than this was being 25 with braces. But at least then I would have been out of school and wouldn’t have to speak in public just to get my money’s worth.

I had wanted braces for so long, but as a teenager my family just could not afford them. Hell, at $6200.00, I don’t think I’d give them to my kid even if I could afford them. But nonetheless, I saved and saved and saved and was finally able to get them.

As I sat in the dentist chair, while he tweaked this and that, hurt me a little here and a lot there, I felt my teeth straightening. Not in the literal sense, but in the overall scheme of if this is what it takes.

To be honest, that phrase has been echoing in my head a lot lately.

It echoes in my head when I think about my debt. When I stay in on Saturday nights to avoid spending $100.00 on some drunken expedition that could have been held in my friend’s basement for free.

It echoes in my head when I sit in my classroom and look on, thinking just three more years.

It echoes in my head as I head to work for 8 hours, five times a week.

Ultimately, this is what it takes.

Over the last two months, I have come to learn a truly valuable lesson about what it really and truly means to invest in my own future.

These investments range from time to money to travel and mistakes. They range widely from good decisions to bad decisions, to sacrificing some of the most important things ever in between, just for the sake of your future.

Parents send you to school for 13 years before you finally have a say in what you want to do with that education. Spend money and carry it further to make more money? Or save your money and start working full-time?

We break up with our partners because we know they are not good for us only to have to do it again in our next relationship because we still haven’t found what we want in a partner, or sometimes in ourselves.

All of these things, the moves that we make, are investments.

For me, braces aren’t just a means of bettering my appearance cosmetically. It’s a means of increased confidence, increased professionalism, and it means I’ll be that much more like my Professor, beautiful and intelligent.

The three years of school I have left, despite the fact that I am currently in my fourth year of university, sounds like a big waste of time. But it’s an investment in my career, my life, and most importantly, my happiness.

Chances are, you’re probably going through a lot of sh^% right now that you don’t see a point to. You’re probably travelling to and from school on public transit wondering when it will ever end. You’re probably paying an arm and a leg for tuition you’ve borrowed from the government, and have contemplated filing for bankruptcy upon graduation to avoid paying it off.

Just me? Whatever, it’s a brilliant idea.

The point is, nothing you are doing and nothing you have done, is in vain.

At least, it shouldn’t be.

This is just a friendly reminder that in order to live the life you want, to be the person you want to be, you have to set the foundation, and you have to set it right now.

There’s a local entertainment group that functions in the GTA, and part of their motto is “Work hard to live good.”

I had heard this hundreds of times before I actually appreciated the phrase. It’s a reminder to people that things don’t just come. Not for real people, people like you and I. They must be attained through blood, sweat, and tears.

No matter how bogged down you may be about this or that, I call on you to embrace the opportunity of challenge.

Don’t look at debt as a burden, look at it as a challenge. Set up a reward for yourself (preferably one that won’t land you back in debt), so that there’s an incentive to get that credit card paid off, as if being debt-free isn’t motivation enough.

Don’t look at your character flaws as unchangeable traits that constantly bring you down. Recognize them, and try to work on them. If you’re always late, challenge yourself to be more punctual. Give yourself a chocolate bar whenever you’re on time. Make it white almond chocolate if you’re early.

And lastly, stop measuring time by how much time has elapsed, and instead by how much time is left. If I sat in class everyday and thought “Isn’t this over yet? I’ve been here for four years already,” do you know how long it would take me to graduate? But instead, I say “just three years left”, no matter how much I’m dying on the inside. And I have endless amounts of homework, readings, assignments, and those eight hour shifts to thank for making the time fly by so fast.

Whoever told you that you couldn’t fake it till you make it obviously never practiced for long enough. 

Because three years ago I didn’t believe any of what I’m preaching to you, but today I do because it worked for me.

This is your life. You won’t be here forever, but you have more than enough time to make this the life you want to experience.

Invest in your life.

Invest in your future.

Invest in yourself.

And for goodness sake, invest in your happiness.

Conversations with Yourself

There is great danger in silencing the voices that speak the quietest within us. They often have the loudest things to say.

I put that little sentence together today, while driving home from Downtown in the sunny-then-rainy-then-sunny-then-su-oh-nevermind-rainy-again weather.

Then I muted my radio and began talking aloud.

I had done this countless times before, but usually only at night when people couldn’t look over into my car and wonder who I was talking to. But being that it’s been exactly one month since my last post, and a long time since my last oral conversation with myself, I decided to have a talk.

This all started a few years ago while I was driving and got so sick of the radio that I wanted to sing my own songs instead. I turned the radio off and started singing whatever song came to my head. It felt so good to just belt out whatever was within me that I did it repeatedly a few times after.

I got into the habit of driving without the radio on, but sometimes I didn’t want to sing (actually, certain days I just couldn’t hit the high notes). So I would speak instead. I would just talk to myself, out loud.

Growing up, I always heard my mother say things like “They just love the sound of their own voice,” about people who were very conceited and self-centered. I began to wonder if that was why I would have these repeated conversations with myself, did I love the sound of my own voice?

Or did I just need to talk?

Today, I needed to talk. I needed to let it out. I needed to speak without being judged, without hurting anyone’s feelings, and especially without any feedback. Some people have pets to do this kind of thing with, but me?

I’ve just got myself.

The conversation started off with what it’s been like to watch my mom fight cancer. Usually when I talk about this kind of thing I get teary eyed and lumpy throated, but today when I was speaking, it didn’t hurt to swallow. My eyes never welled up and I didn’t have to pause to collect myself. I could just speak.

I talked about the recent relationships that have formed in my life, as well as the ones that have dissolved. I spoke truthfully about how I feel, the mistakes I made, and what happens next.

I talked about school and work. Am I excited for September to come around again? I congratulated myself on getting a raise, and reminded myself to put the extra money away for after graduation, and trying not to focus on shoes, purses, and my new obsession with scarves.

I moved on to random topics. The conversation was evolving, and I could feel myself arriving at a deeper sense of peace. The more I spoke, the more things began to make sense. And the more able I was to put the pieces together.

I thought about how hard it had been for me to write this last month, and realized that it probably has something to do with the lack of reflection time I’ve given to myself recently.

To experience something and write about it is just to reiterate the experience itself. But to experience 

something and recognize what this experience has done for you is to put it into context, understand, and appreciate what it means to you and for you.

Before my conversation could evolve any more, a very quiet and almost unrecognizable voice in my head, albeit, mine, said, “Why the silence?”

This is a hard thing for me to explain. It was also a hard thing for me to talk about, even with myself, and the longest pause hadn’t even saved me from answering the question.

I stopped at a red light, allowing myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts and address this issue, which admittedly, had been on my mind.

I thought about all the things that could have been the cause of this. I thought about what made me turn off the radio and begin speaking. I remembered saying “I’ve had enough”, referring to the music, and pressing the mute button.

I dug a little farther back, and thought about the last few times I wanted to say something but didn’t, and instead thought,

“Just bite your tongue.”

The sense of curiosity faded immediately, and I realized that I had picked up the terrible habit of doing just that.

I feel like I bit my tongue once, twice, maybe three times. And maybe my tongue was starting to bleed. 

Maybe I hadn’t noticed the pressure of my teeth on my tongue because it didn’t hurt anymore, physically because I had gotten so used to the feeling. But it kept bleeding because I kept biting it, and now the blood was running down from the corners of my lips.

Metaphorically, the conversation I had with myself revealed to me that I need to stop biting my tongue, as well as how horrible of an idea it is to actually bite your tongue when trying to withhold words. Almost as horrible of an idea as withholding words, in my opinion.

But nothing is sillier than not saying what you need to say.

The fact of the matter is this. We know who we are. We know how we feel. And if we feel that way, why shouldn’t we, and why can’t we say it?

Why is it that saying something untrue is considered a bigger issue than not saying something that is?

Why?

I used to want to have all the answers to every question there would ever be in the world. But slowly, I’m realizing, perhaps it’s better to ask the questions.

Perhaps I want to see things, discuss things, and discover my soul’s greatest curiosities. Perhaps I want to dance in the mystery of wonder and add squiggly lines to all the periods and make them question marks instead.

But I wouldn’t have even known this if I didn’t allow myself to speak freely, without the duct tape of the innocent “shut up” from friends and family, and the deafening volumes of our loud society, and Dr. Dre’s Beats headphones.

Every once in a while, you need to check up on yourself. You need to sit down and have a talk with the inner you the same way a parent does with a teen, or one good friend to another. You need to compare where your head is, where your heart is, get them matched up, and move forward.

You need to give yourself a voice.

But even more so, you need to hear what that voice is saying, especially in times where no one else will.

If you open your mouth to speak, be it to yourself or to someone else, you must also open your ears to listen.

When I finally parked my car, I sent out three things I wish for into the universe, hoping that having them on my wish list would make me work harder at actually getting them. The first thing I wished for, I had no 

control over. But I had hope, and sometimes that’s enough.

The second thing I wished for was a little more understanding. And I know that they say if you tell people what you wished for it won’t come true, but I’m telling you what I wished for because it already has.

Don’t be afraid to live your life differently. It’s not a crime to have conversations with yourself. In fact, Nelson Mandela wrote a book called "Conversations With Myself", and he's a pretty notable figure, right? 

It's also not a crime to seek a deep, genuine connection and to go about nurturing the relationship you have with yourself as if it were a garden that has to last all seasons, but might not.

Because that fear is the driving force behind why a majority of people are so out of tune with their inner desires that they wouldn’t recognize their greatest aspiration if it showed up on their doorstep tomorrow morning.

In all honesty, this garden that I’m watering here was full of weeds prior to today. Sure there were still some really pretty flowers underneath, but it just looked like a wave of dandelions.

And while dandelions are beautiful, they’re nothing compared to the tulips, roses, and daisies that come in after a good afternoon spent digging.

I hope you find your words, and I hope you find your voice. And I hope that when you do, you use it. I hope that you dig and you dig until all the words buried deep in the garden of your body and soul come to the surface like flowers in bloom and I hope that it’s beautiful.

That was the third wish. And like the first wish, I have no control over it. But I have hope, and sometimes that’s enough.

The Art, and Act, of Forgiveness

The other day, I watched one of the most moving films I have ever seen in my life.

It wasn’t Titanic, or The Notebook. It wasn’t Schindler’s List or The Green Mile. In fact, I had never even heard of it before. It was a TV movie called “Bond of Silence”.

The movie featured actors I had never come across in my movie-watching career, which is usually confined to TV movies as I get fidgety when it comes to things that don’t have commercial breaks. I must have tuned in about ten minutes into the movie, enough to skip past the rather unimportant credits, horrible intro music, and scenery, scenery, scenery.

From what I could gather, it was New Year’s Eve. Two houses on the same street across from each other were having a party. One household was full of drunk teenagers, the other house held six adults; three married couples, two sleeping children upstairs, wine, and board games.

When midnight hit, the teenage party became louder and louder, prompting the three husbands, to go over and tell the kids to keep it down a bit. One of the men, Bob, who had lived in the house across the street, was very good friends with the parents of the boy who was having a party. So you can only imagine how upset he was when he found six or seven teenagers in his friends’ room smoking pot. He calmly told them to take the party downstairs.

Shortly after, one of the men that had made the trip across the street with him walked into the room to find him lying on the ground, not breathing.

An investigation concluded that he had died of blunt force trauma to the head, despite it initially being assumed that he died of a heart-attack. His wife, who had been across the street at home with her two friends the whole time, had no idea of what was going on.

The movie followed her journey toward closure. Nearly the whole town had rallied against her after one of the young teens in the room that night had been arrested. She was told to “leave them alone” and that “they were innocent”. Yet still, she persisted, wanting nothing but to be able to answer her children’s questions about where their father went, and why he wasn’t coming back.

For months and months, she felt as if she had been conducting the investigation alone, as the lead detective on the case had become tired of turning up nothing. Every lead led to nothing. No one would talk. The case was at a standstill.

There was one other option though. And that was to speak to perhaps the most intoxicated young teens there were that night, as he was present in the room, and may have held the key to what really happened that night. She thought that maybe if he could just remember who it was that punched her husband, who it was that kicked him, it might break the case wide open.

Finding him turned out to be very difficult though, as he, ever since that night, had become involved with heavy drugs and run away from home. But one day, he turned up at the police station.

“Just let me talk to him,” she said to the detective. He looked at her as if she was crazy, wondering what in the world that could possibly accomplish.

“I’m a mother. I know how to talk to kids. He’s probably scared, but he definitely wants to get it off of his chest,” she explained.

Within a few days, she sat with him in a room, face to face with the young boy that might be able to tell her who killed her husband. She showed him pictures of her children, of her husband, of her entire family together. She then looked at him, in this complete state of vulnerability and said,

“Please. Just tell me what happened.”

He agreed to talk to the detectives. She watched the interview from behind the one-way glass. And he explained that he was the one that killed her husband. He talked about being so fed up of always being picked on, bullied, and undermined by his peers that when the first group of guys got her husband down on to the ground and left, he stayed and took out his anger. He said that he had kicked him and kicked him until he couldn’t go on any longer. And then he left.

He was placed under arrest shortly after completing the interview and walked out of the police station.

She stood and watched him approach her, his face a mess from the trauma of reliving the night he became a murderer, her face a mess from discovering the truth. And as he approached, she wiped her tears away immediately, as if to be strong for him. Then she gave him one of the most gracious, graceful, and grateful looks I have ever seen one human give to another in my life.

In that moment, it was just understood that she forgave him.

I cried and I cried and I cried, not knowing how to respond to the simplicity, but depth and meaning of this scene. I thought about what this meant in the context of my own life, of all of our lives, and how important forgiveness really is.

The movie was based on a true story. The wife, Katy, went on to work with the killer, Ryan, in high schools, and talk about the dangers of alcohol and over-intoxication. The final scene of the movie was a real-life clip of them at a high school hugging after giving a presentation.

Sometimes we get upset at people because they hurt our feelings, because they blow us off, because they say something offensive, because they break our hearts, or just because. We hold grudges of the ultimate magnitude because we don’t know how to forgive, but most often because we do not want to forgive.

But in this case, there was a woman who lost her husband. Who had to be a single parent to two innocent children for the rest of her life. Yet she was still able to forgive the person responsible for all that. She was able to say, “I accept, I understand, and I forgive you.” By forgiving him, she allowed herself the chance at a life. A real life.

If she were to carry with her in her heart the anger that the everyday person would feel, can you imagine what waking up everyday would be like? She would overlook the joys of the simplest moments and indulge instead in the hatred and animosity that she may have felt, even if only for a brief moment, over and over again.

When we choose not to forgive people, we choose to be prisoners of the past. When we choose forgiveness, we choose to be students and residents of the future. This means that we get to learn, we get to teach, but most of all, we get to live.

The question we have to ask ourselves is how we can move on from these people, these situations, if we cannot find it in our hearts to forgive. If everyday we wake up with baggage from yesterday, how can we move into tomorrow with room in our suitcases for lessons, for relationships, for growth and knowledge?

There are two misconceptions about forgiveness. The first one is that you need an apology in order to forgive. False. You can forgive someone even if they are not sorry the same way you can hold a door open for someone who might not say thank you, or for someone who might go through the other one anyway. You are simply declaring that your door is open anyway.

The second misconception about forgiveness is that it is for the other person, not you. False. Completely false. In fact, forgiveness is almost more so for yourself than for anyone else.

Forgiveness is your freedom.

You might be holding on to a grudge, or two, or three, and you may not even know it. It may be locked so deeply away in the secret vaults and hidden chambers of your heart that you feel you are completely free. But ask yourself, are you?

If you ask me, Katy is free. Maybe Ryan is too. He spent 5 years in jail for the murder, and I’m sure that gave him a lot of time to think. While some people might think that 5 years is nothing for someone who took the life of another, Katy might think that 5 years is just enough for him to have really reconciled his heart. And isn't that worth more than a man who spends 25 years in prison but comes out the same person he entered as?

In the movie, she said, “this is not about revenge. It’s not about vengeance. It’s about peace.”

Everyone deserves peace. Even Ryan. But the truth is, we will never be at peace, we will never be free, until we can truly let go. Letting go doesn’t just mean letting go of the things that have been said and done to us, but also the things we have said and done to ourselves. So let go, and live on.

Not everyone deserves forgiveness, but everyone, and I mean everyone, deserves to forgive.

The Power of Inspiration

What an amazing weekend I had.

Today, I went and explored different parts of the beautiful city of Toronto. Something I should, and always promise to do more often, but never actually get around to it. I went on a “date”, if you will. I took the subway because it was nice outside, and abandoned my usual North American menu for food, and dined at a Pakistani restaurant instead. So willing was I, that I had no say in the food that was ordered, I just perused the menu.

I was amazed at how good the food was, and simultaneously disappointed that I had never tried it before. But I know better than to cry over the illusion of wasted time. After that, we watched the sun set over the Toronto skyline, and listened to whatever song would play next.

Last night, I spent the night with my sister at our usual Saturday night spot. A friend from high school came up to me. I see her around town sometimes, but we don’t stop and share the conversations we used to when we would both arrive at school early in the morning. She mentioned my blog, and let me know that she had been tuned in to it a lot lately after finding out that I had one. She told me that one post especially had helped her through a tough time, and that I should keep writing.

I had this exchange in mind when I saw a girl there who I owed an apology to for being catty with over a guy. I walked right up to her, apologized, and she smiled at me and said “it’s okay.” She even apologized to me too, for I have no idea what, but I raised my drink to her, and we went on with our night.

The night before that, perhaps the greatest night of my entire weekend, was spent at my good friend Sarah’s house. Every month, she has these amazing get-togethers. It is a room full of about 30 great, open, and opinionated minds, good music, and even better times. Despite the space being small, each area has its own destiny. The kitchen is usually where the meet and greets happen. The living room is for video games and dancing. The dining room is usually for board games, and if there is no board game set up then a heated debate must be going on, as it was on this day. And then there are the stairs, for people who are having deep and philosophical conversations.

I usually find myself on the stairs. Some of my greatest conversations take place on the stairs. And on this night, one of the greatest conversations I have ever had in my life took place.

I have a friend named Talia. In high school, I watched her write her heart out. She volunteered with all sorts of organizations, and her essays were always the ones the teachers used as the rubric. Needless to say, as a writer, I regard Talia with the highest and the utmost respect, so the things she said to me on this night had a special place in my heart. Talia said to me:

“I watched you start your blog. You wrote for 5 days straight on some very important topics. These weren’t rushed pieces; they were well-written, and I appreciate something that’s well-written more than I appreciate something that’s interesting. Your pieces were both.”

And then she said this:

“At first, I felt jealous. But then I thought, don’t be jealous, be inspired. And I started writing again.”

Tears fell from my eyes, but they really came from my heart. She continued on to tell me that my future was bright, that I was going places, and that I was a great writer. I felt, in that moment, that not only had I accomplished the only mission I have ever really had as a writer; to inspire, but that I was on my way. 

Everything, everyone, every single landmark I pass by is telling me that I am on my way. I have never in my life been so fulfilled, so happy, and so proud of myself, than I am right now.

When I entered Sarah’s house, my friend, my peer, Alexa said “Hello my favorite blogger!” Truthfully, I have never thought of myself as a blogger, and have surely never been called a blogger. I shied away from the term because I felt if I had imposed it on myself it would be conceited. But I left that place that night with a hunger to claim my place in this creative revolution that is taking place. More importantly, I left there with a plate full of proof in front of me that I was speaking through my writing, and people were listening.

That night, this weekend, taught me a lot about how life works.

Firstly, I learned that there are two things that come with forgiveness. The first is the forgiveness that is granted to you when you honestly seek it out, regardless of whether the person accepts your apology. 

Forgiveness isn’t about being forgiven; it’s about having the humility to ask for it. 

The second thing that comes with it is the freedom that is granted to you, within yourself, when you forgive yourself enough to ask for forgiveness. I didn’t have to apologize to this girl. We had no relationship, I had no obligation to her, and my life would have gone on without a hitch had I not apologized. But when I thought about what my friend from high school had said to me, and all the wonderful things people had said about me the night before, I felt I owed it to them to be the person they believed I could be; the person I was. And more importantly, I owed it to myself. I wanted all of my freedom; not just some.

The other thing I learned was the power of inspiration. Friday proved that great things happen when great people come together, and cumulative greatness happens through individual greatness. The amount of compliments, words, and support that was generated in the few hours Sarah’s guests spent together that night was enough to start a revolution; one I believe each of us already belong to, one that will continue to grow exponentially. Everyone took something home that night. Maybe it was a memory, maybe it was a lesson, or a new piece of knowledge, but for a lot of us, it was inspiration. When Talia said what she said to me about being inspired, I, in turn, was inspired.  

Inspiration is regenerative. It recycles itself through the hearts and the minds it resides in, and continues to spread through the hearts and minds it opens.

So to you, I say, open your heart and open your mind. Allow yourself to be changed by the different people you meet, greet, and talk to, the experiences you have and don’t have, and all that unfolds throughout your days. Be not the same person that you were today tomorrow, be a better, more beautiful, more radiant you. In turn, you will have a better, more beautiful, more radiant life.

And I promise you, you absolutely deserve it.

Self-Love

Yesterday someone asked me, “What do you look for in a partner?”

This is a question that I had a well-rehearsed answer for whenever it was asked. It was one of those questions I anticipated being asked in that first phase of a blossoming relationship, or one that was blossoming for the time being at least. I loved this question because I got to outline my expectations.

But as I have come to learn, expectations lead to disappointments.

My aunt once told me, “Don’t ever tell someone what you want in a partner, because they act as that person just until they have you. Once they do, there is no need for the act anymore.”  For me, that lesson sunk in immediately.

It’s as if in that very moment, I realized where I had gone wrong in my past relationships. I had such a clear vision, of who I wanted, and what I wanted in that person, that I fell in love with their performance of my vision, rather than recognizing it was an act.

My retrospection on relationships illustrated to me how blinded and consumed I was by my romantic involvement. I often felt myself at odds with myself for not paying attention to my own needs, and neglecting my desires. I broke promises I made to myself, I shunned some of my closest friends, and I felt like I had no time because all of it was spent with the variable him.

When I was asked what I look for in a partner yesterday, my response, for the first time, was “Actually, I’m not looking for a partner.”

If you know me, you know that I’m always looking for a partner. I’m always looking for someone to talk to before I go to sleep, someone to text during class, someone to go out with on a Saturday night, and someone to spend Valentine’s Day with.

But something in me has changed, and a revolution has arrived within me.

My partners are my friends; the few that I have that promise me a good time even if we spend hours in a small space with nothing but our words, and always seem to deliver. My partners are my parents; who are in the living room when I come home, waiting to hear about the events that unfolded in my crazy life that day. My partners are my books; who fill my head with knowledge, inspiration, and food for thought when I need something, anything.

But most of all, my partner is me.

I am not going to re-enact the Women’s Liberation Movement, or belt out “Independent Women” by Destiny’s Child. I am not going to pretend I don’t get lonely at times. But I am going to profess the new found love that I have for the individual that I am, in my complete state of raw imperfection.

I am my partner.

I am the one person that doesn’t abandon myself when things hit the fan. I am the one person that knows everything from my lies to my truths, and everything in between. I know every flaw, every imperfection that makes me perfect. I know. I just know.

While I was writing this, I looked down at my right arm. And I had the simple thought, “My skin looks so soft.” That thought turned into a gesture of me wrapping my arms around myself. For a few minutes, I just sat there, embracing my own body, rocking gently back and forth. The embrace was so warm, so genuine, and so full of love that I began the most peaceful cry I have ever had in my life. Each tear was a piece of my freedom, a part of my emancipation, and a testament to my liberation.

In my head, I repeated, “I love myself. I am beautiful. And I am divine.”

I did not let go until those words travelled from my lips, to my head, to my heart, to my toes, through to my fingertips that radiated self-love to the flesh of my body.

I think that if any of that were untrue, I might feel weird about writing that, and a lot weirder for publishing it on a blog. But because that is my truth, I admit it shamelessly.

You are a mirror of your own world. If you want your world, your life, and your relationships to be full of love, you first must fill yourself with a love so unprecedented, so unconditional, that not even the wildest of fires could burn it, or you, down.

I have endured my fair share of tragedy, and I have endured my fair share of heartbreak, but in all those instances, I was my own healer. It was my hands that healed my wounds, and my voice that provided reason.

If any of that were untrue, I might feel conceited for writing that, and a lot more conceited for publishing it on a blog. But because it is my truth, I admit it shamelessly.

Find your truth. Find yourself. And find the truthful love that you have for yourself, within yourself. You might not want to profess it to the world. But one day, you will wake up so full of love for your life, for your friends, and for the world that you have created around yourself, that nothing short of standing on top of a mountain and screaming it out until you lose your voice will do you any good.

I realized that the reason I answered “I’m not looking for a partner,” surely wasn’t because I’m not looking for a partner. Like I said, I’m always looking for a partner. I think really and truly, it’s because deep down inside, I already have a partner.

Me.

All You Need is Less

I just don’t care anymore.

Those words spewed out of me the other day while I walked around in circles in my room, venting in my head about all the people that had “hurt my feelings”. I felt a tear run down my cheek. I looked at myself in the mirror and looked so pathetic, crying over nonsense that I stopped immediately and was awfully disgusted with myself.

“I just don’t care anymore.” Like projectile vomit they came out again.

I had been through a lot that week. I was temporarily unemployed, I had a lot of unstable and unsteady friendships, I was recently single, and I was feeling anxious about turning one year older. My life was in limbo.

My love life was a disaster. I had returned to being the hopelessly romantic Carrie Bradshaw. Except I didn’t have the apartment in Manhattan, the sex column in the news publication, or the three friends that would catch me if I fell. I only had me. At least, I thought.

When things are up in the air like that, I don’t cope well. I prefer things to be planned properly, executed in an organized fashion, and for things to go smoothly. But for some reason, that week was just all over the place. And so was I.

Last week, though, I began working full-time. The eight hour work days, paired with my two-hour lectures at school left me with little time for, how do I word this correctly, bullshit. Essentially, I became an adult. An actual adult.

It wasn’t the long work days, the achy feet, or the mature demeanour I had to take on when I walked into my new job. It was the realization that a lot of the time I spent on bullshit was spent on bullshit because I had time for bullshit. Now, I don’t.

That was my freedom.

My Dad always told me “your gut’s full”, whenever I would cry, moan, or complain about things that didn’t deserve any attention. And like many of the things he told me growing up, it didn’t make sense until recently.

The truth is…my gut was full. I had more friends than I had time for. I had more time than I knew what to do with. And I had so much to do that I never did any of it. And because I had too much of everything, in some strange way, it left me feeling unfulfilled, and even more unappreciative.

Now, I have just enough time to really and truly enjoy it. My long days end with a glass of wine and some alone time in my room. Because my time is so limited, I don’t even dare to turn on the television.

Silence is a gift.

I write what I can, while I can. I no longer force myself to sit there and feel constipation in my brain. I just let it come naturally.

I learned that all the things that took place prior to me making my entry into “adulthood”, happened because I needed to know who and what deserved the limited time I would soon have. The people that “hurt my feelings”, hurt them because the universe was telling that they weren’t worth my efforts, my time, and surely not that one lone tear that rolled down my cheek that day.

I learned that some things just happen, and some things just change. It’s neither here nor there. It just is what it is.

The key is to minimalize your needs to a very healthy low. At some point, you will receive a wake-up call that comes at you like a bucket of ice cold water in a deep sleep. A sleep that you probably would not have awoken from, not any time soon, and it is a shame to think that you might never open your eyes to see the light, the beauty, of day.

If something happened in your life recently that has led you to wonder what it all means, you better believe it means something. It might be in your best interest to take a step back, remove yourself from all that you have going on, and ask yourself if you really need it, need them.

When I felt that my feelings were hurt, it was largely my fault for allowing my feelings to be in the hands of people that wouldn’t take care of them, of me.

When I felt that I had so much to do yet I wasn’t getting anything done, it was because I took on things I didn’t want to, or need to, I took them on just because, leaving me with no motivation whatsoever to actually do it because I didn’t want to in the first place.

If you feel that you have too little of everything, chances are you have too much. And if you're unable to appreciate it, its because sometimes, what we really need, rather, all we really need, is less.

Coping with Change

A former co-worker of mine once gave each of the employees a book called “Who Moved My Cheese?” It was no longer than one hundred pages, and boasted all sorts of awards it had won on the cover, the back, and the index. Despite having the book for a few weeks, I hadn’t read it until one day I found myself on the brink of death (boredom).

As I turned each page, I found myself totally able to relate to the two main characters; two mice named Hem and Haw. The book was a narrative of the experience the mice had in making sure they were fed and able to have enough cheese to last them during the hard times. Essentially, it was a metaphor for humans having to ensure we are employed, happy, tending to our goals, and so on and so forth.

One mouse fought tirelessly, even when they stumbled upon a chamber with what seemed to be endless cheese, to make sure they had even more, as the cheese in the chamber would eventually run out. The other mouse, however, didn’t think long term. Instead, he focused on relaxing and enjoying the abundance of cheese that was there for him, thinking it would renew itself.

But one day, the cheese ran out.

The moral of the story was that we always have to prepare to have nothing at all, even if we have it all in that moment. The story set out to illustrate the importance of being able to adapt to changing circumstances; a lesson I found myself learning, especially in recent months.

How do we deal with change?

A few weeks ago, I reached my wits end with my employer. I felt myself unable to enjoy my work experience, despite being surrounded by a great group of co-workers. I had felt this way for a while, but tortured myself with the idea that “I needed the money”. While this was true, one day I noticed myself preferring to be poor instead of working for this employer anymore. When I recognized that thought, I knew it was time to go.

I wrote my resignation letter in absolute confidence despite having no back-up plan, just a list of places I had in mind that I could flee to in refuge. Immediately after quitting, I reached out to someone that had recognized my personable skills at the place I had just left, and she set me up for an interview. Within one week of quitting, I had passed all the background checks, credit reports, and lengthy interview process, and was hired. I started the week after, and began settling into my new work environment. Interestingly enough, I was doing less work here and making twice the money.

We deal with change by knowing when to walk away.

And the truth is; we walk away when we’re ready. There is no such thing as “overstaying”. Whether it is a relationship you think is becoming toxic, or a job you think you need to leave, you stay as long as you can and as long as you have to, before you either find a way out or reach your wits end, like I did.

The most important thing about leaving at the precise moment you decide to, is how things will work out for you when you are true to yourself. If you’re still there, it’s because you can still handle it. It’s kind of like a kettle, your body, mind, and spirit, might be whistling to you, and perhaps even growing louder progressively. But until it gets to that final, high-pitched whistle you can’t help but hear, you’ve still got work to do.

Keep in mind that things always work out. I’ve said this time and time again in my blog posts, because it is one of the governing philosophies of life, if you really and truly believe in it, and especially if you really and truly work hard.

I know that even in starting this new job, maybe after a couple months, a couple years, I might find it unbearable. That’s just my sign that it is time for change. When I can no longer look myself in the mirror, or fall asleep at night, I will know it’s time to leave. Until then, I have work to do.

We tend to set expectations. We often assign time limits to things; everything from how long it will take us to get Downtown to marriage. When really, we change, grow, and evolve with each passing moment. What was right for us when we started might not be right for us when we get to the halfway mark. But we’re so focused on getting to the finish line that we end up at the wrong one.

This also happened in my university career. I spent roughly $13,000 acquiring the degree I thought I wanted in history. But after my second year, I felt unfulfilled, dissatisfied, and the inescapable feeling of sheer unhappiness. It was when I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I would be unhappy with my career choice for the rest of my life that I decided to switch into journalism. Now, the only thing more exciting than being able to fall asleep is waking up in the morning.

If you don’t know yourself well enough to catch yourself in moments like these, furthermore, if you don’t respect yourself well enough to take whatever loss you may have acquired at the time (for me it was the $13,000 and the two years I spent in school already), how will you ever get what you really and truly want out of this life?

Check in with yourself. See where your head is at. More importantly, see where your heart is at. If they’re not in the same place, you’ve got to change something. It could be finding a new partner, it could mean finding yourself. Pay attention to your needs. Recognize that they may change from day to day, year to year, or decade to decade.

Most importantly, stay hungry. If you have a healthy hunger for happiness, paired with the ability to recognize the road you have to take to get there; you’ll find your cheese. 

Dealing with Distraction

You sit down, you’re ready to write or read, finish your homework, get started on that essay, or whatever the case may be. But then your phone vibrates. The voices in your head tell you to check your email first. Or, my personal favorite, “I can’t work in a dirty room,” and you pick up the only two shirts that were on your floor and begin to dust everything until it’s time for bed, forgetting completely that you had something to do.

Why are we so easily distracted? Why are looming deadlines not enough to scare us into getting something done? More importantly, how do we deal with distraction?

The other day, it was time for a new post and as soon as I came up with the idea, I began writing. I had four internet tabs open, music playing, my television on, and my phone right next to me, both vibrate and ring turned on, and I was logged onto Skype. Everytime I strung a sentence together, I would check Twitter, look for a new song, change the channel, or check my phone, even though it hadn’t vibrated or rung. An hour had passed, and the one page that was supposed to be full of words only had a few. I wasted the last hour of my life on absolutely nothing.

I was pissed. I was mad at iTunes for not playing a proper shuffle set and that I had to keep changing the song. I was mad at my television for stealing my attention away from my writing. I was mad at my phone for requiring me to type in my passcode and never having a message at the end of my touchpad journey. I was mad at Twitter, I was mad at Skype…you get the point.

Then I thought, if I really want to do this, I will. So I got rid of all the distractions. I even disabled my wireless internet connection. I closed all programs and only kept open my word document. It took a few minutes for me to stop staring at the posters and paintings on my wall, and I found myself itching for the converter, but after a few minutes, my focus had been narrowed.

It narrowed so much, in fact, that I was able to apply this revelation to other aspects of life. I thought about all the things I had on my to do list, my bucket list, or my places to discover list. Why had I not done them yet? Why had I not visited those places yet? I thought about all the things that I allowed to dominate my attention, people included.

The lesson here is that there are a million and one things that can get in the way when wanting to do something. These distractions can turn a simple task into something much more time-consuming. The inevitable effect of this lack of time management is a waste of time, literally.

The simplest solution is to start becoming more conscious of what you do while you’re doing something. Are you “multi-tasking”, or are you just doing multiple tasks? Once you recognize and acknowledge bad habits, they become much easier to change.

Moreover, this will help you in the larger scope of things. If you’re trying to graduate, attempting to save money for a car or a condo, trying to write a book, or simply working on making healthier choices, all these tasks require one thing (amongst many others): focus.

Focus isn’t forgetting about everything else you have going on; it’s about properly prioritizing your tasks. Often, the ones we know will take longer to accomplish are the ones we put off, for one reason or another. But of course, I have a quote for a moment like this, and it goes as follows:

“Never give up on a goal because of the time it will take; the time will pass anyway.”

So if you find yourself farther from a goal than you had hoped, look at the things that are distracting you from drawing nearer to it, and eliminate them. Let go of the people that make you feel bad when you say no to hanging out with them, because you promised yourself you would create another painting instead. Let go of the excuses you make that stop you from doing something; like opening up an untouchable savings account because you’d rather spend money on food instead, even if it’s “only ten dollars a week”. Let go of all the voices in and outside of your head that tell you to “put it off until tomorrow.” And let go of the reasons you feel you can’t do it. Because you can, and you surely deserve to.