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In a world overrun by email, there are still a few I actually enjoy reading. One of those is the Creative Groove Newsletter written by the amazing Jen Jones Donatelli. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, or who Jen is I encourage you to look her up, and then to sign up for the newsletters; they are short, punchy, and chalk full of fascinating content from roller skating options, to a grow a forest accountability app, to invitations to learn about cool events in the city such as The Full Cleveland (a 12 hour megahike across town).
One of her more recent newsletters began with the headline: “If you’re looking for five powerful words that can take you to the next level, here they are: ‘Ask, and you shall receive.’” In that letter, Jen relays her own story of pitching herself to an editor at Enslow Publishing back in 2006. She recalls what a “long shot” the ask was, and how she waited for a polite pass to her inquiry for a gig (if any response at all). She didn’t have to wait long for a response, but instead of the anticipated “thanks, but no thanks,” she was offered the job and went on to do really incredible work. She recalls, “…I can say with 100% certainty that none of it would have happened if I hadn’t summoned the courage to send that initial email.” Speaking of courage… Enter Scott Simon, founder of Scare Your Soul. Scare Your Soul is a movement that “inspires people to engage in repeated small acts of courage that lead to big changes.” I recommend signing up for his newsletter too! In it, you will receive weekly challenges to get you out of your comfort zone, and more fully into your life ;) Each month has its own theme around which the challenges are centered. For instance, June’s theme was self-love while July is all about relationships. I am lucky enough to know both of these cool cats which led me to synthesize Jen’s letter with Scott’s mission to come up with my own idea/challenge for all of you who follow. Here it goes: I want you to think of 10 ‘asks’ you have yet to make, but really want to – maybe that looks like asking someone on a date, maybe it looks like asking someone for a job, maybe it looks like asking someone to teach you a new skill, or maybe it looks like asking someone you want to learn from out for a cup of coffee. My asks are all centered around people I one day hope to work/collaborate with (at this point on what and when are TBD). I am so confident in their abilities, and their missions, and their characters that I’m okay with not knowing what these projects look like yet – just that I want to be a part of what they are birthing into the world. The list of those people are below and while it is scary to ask people you idolize to work with you, amazing things can happen if you do (see my note next to number 10). As a nod to something I learned from Randy Pauch in his “last lecture,” I’m hoping that by posting my asks publicly I’ll make it harder for people to say ‘no’ (wink wink). Click here to see Pauch’s speech.
Famous People I want to work with: Lena Dunham, Liz Gilbert, Glennon Doyle, Thrity Umriger, Austin Klein, Taylor Swift…it goes on and on but those are some off the top of my head. I would love if you are reading this if you would just post one ‘ask’ in the comments below. After all, you never know someone who… I thought I was here to relax, but like everything else, it turns out I’m here to learn. That I’m not in control. That things go wrong. That you can enjoy it all anyway – if you let yourself. Disclaimer: I can be a brat. A big one. When we were deciding on places to stay back in January for our big trip out West, a place with a pool was a non-negotiable. After much looking, Gina and I settled on Goosewing Ranch in Wyoming. However, before turning over my credit card number and three-digit security code, I called to verify that the pool would be open for our planned dates. “Yes,” I was told. And so I went ahead with the credit card number. Fast forward six months and a two-hour drive up a dirt road to the ranch. The first thing I see – that gorgeous pool from the internet pics covered with tarps and surrounded by construction material. I literally think smoke started coming out of my nostrils. No email notification with a heads up. No discount. No I’m sorry you were misled. Instead I was told by a ranch employee, “I can assure you that you won’t miss it. We have a river you can swim in.” [The same river we had also read we could tube down, only to later learn that this activity like so many others “starts next week.” I might also mention that it was in the 90s, which according to a local never happens, but also that the river water was like 45 degrees.] I was pretty sure that I could assure her that I very much would miss the pool. My whole demeanor changed. I. Was. Pissed. After a little pep talk from my bestie reminding me that we’ve been to 100s of pools, and also that my mom has a beautiful in-ground secluded one of her own, I was able to bust out of my funk long enough to enjoy the ATV ride through mountain tails. Then came activity sign-ups. All of the activities I wanted to do were at the same freakin time and now we would be fitted for our horses tomorrow, and not tonight. Cue my control freak who by now feels totally blindsided. Breath Kristina. That fresh mountain air. Breathe it. Look where you are. Look at the backdrop to your life in this moment. Green covered mountains, and sunlit water, and horses grazing. And lots of space – to see, to write, to feel. We sat down to dinner (seats assigned), and even though I couldn’t help but complain about the misinformation it now became an inside joke with the new friends at our table. A woman at the table asked, “Is there dessert.” Her partner answered, “That’s for next week guests.” I am here now. I am [now]here. (Stay tuned for my new tattoo). So I had better decide to appreciate it (and yes it is a choice). As soon as I adjusted my frame of mind, other things also began shifting. The head wrangler, Robyn, after finding out about our experience took us on a private 4 hour horse ride along a new trail with lots of little creeks and watering holes. We got to cross the river on horseback and I even got to lope my horse. It was spectacular. She is spectacular. We talked about lots of things on that ride - about trauma, about family, about holding on, and about letting go. I owe Robyn for a one of a kind experience that has inspired me to find a stable nearby so that I can continue to ride, and for helping me relearn the lesson that when things appear to not work out, they really usually do!
Aside: I ended up making friends with so many of the wranglers - these young kids work their tales off and do so with maturity, with grace, and without complaint (that's more than I can say about my own attitude during parts of the trip). I’m Sorry
You know what sucks? Fighting with your child. You know what sucks more? Sending your child off to your ex’s immediately in the midst of/after a fight. You know what sucks even more than that? Not then seeing that child for three days. While I idolize the “still together families” for a whole bunch of reasons, I also know that getting a parenting break can feel really, really nice. However, when that break comes on the heels of harsh words, and loud sighs, and almost there tears, it fucking sucks. And every god damn time I get back home, walk up the stairs, and retreat to my room I feel it – that overwhelming urge of wanting her back. Of NOW being ready to love bigger, to love fuller. It’s this strange sensation because as just as soon as I feel able to relax from meal prep, from clean up, from nagging her about chores or tooth-brushing or technology, it is then where I feel this expansion, the ability to be more of the parent I so desperately want to be. Literally we had all day to hang together and we spent most of it different rooms, but now that she’s gone I just want to call her up and tell her I’m sorry. I’m sorry we were fighting. I’m sorry I’m so hard on you. I’m sorry I sigh so much. I’m sorry I don’t practice what I preach. I’m sorry I’m not better at this. I’m sorry that the very things I hate that people do to me I catch myself doing to you. I’m sorry I’m not patient. I’m sorry I’m so critical. I’m sorry I try to make you exercise, and have hobbies, and eat something other than cheese. Well I’m actually not sorry for those last few things, but I am sorry that I haven’t found a better way to frame these things than through exasperation and eye rolls. For some reason, it is easier when we fight and she’s still under my roof. When I know that in an hour or two things will have settled back into a tempo we both are used to and I’ll get to kiss her good night, and read her stories, and annoy her all over again in the morning. It is the options that her physical presence here affords me that make it easier I think. But tonight I won’t have that chance. Tonight is “dad’s night.” Instead I got a car ride full of silence, a begrudging good-bye, and no look back as she exited the backseat, locked arms with her dad, and leaned her head into his arm as they walked away. I don’t blame her. I can see how my cataloging of all the things she is failing to do – pick up after herself, brush her hair, take some time off tech, listen – might feel like a shaming. She told me she couldn’t complete any of them because as she tried, I was already barking out the next thing she needed to do. As a parent, I often don’t know when she is playing me and when I’m truly being too hard/demanding too much. I remember from my college days that intermittent reinforcement is the worst kind, and as a mom I really struggle with this. I’m a lot of empty threats with a super serious consequence thrown in when I decide I’ve finally had enough – from laissez faire caretaker to rigid taskmaster. The problem for her, and for me, is the roles change without warning. I remember the days she hated going to her dad’s. Hated being away from me period. That was its own kind of frustrating, but tonight seeing her happy to get out of my car and into her dad’s arms hurt my heart in ways that I’m grappling to articulate. Does anyone know what I’m saying? Can anyone relate to this? Soooo....Liv was with Joe this Easter which meant I didn’t have to worry about a morning basket, which somehow turned into me not doing one at all (you can hold the parental judgement as I judge myself far more harshly than you could judge me). When I asked Liv if the bunny came to dad’s she said yeah, but then mumbled something about missing the jelly bean trail under her breath. Since the time she was a baby I have carried on the tradition my parents did with us of jelly bean trails to our baskets. Cue the mom guilt and a frantic run out for jelly beans tonight. I started with Target thinking I could also get her a lunchable for tomorrow's state tasting where she will be entering a school building for the first time in over a year. I didn't think her eating ice cream out of a carton for lunch as may have happened a time or two here would fly (of course her lunch breaks coincide directly with a weekly work meeting of mine so sometimes she's left to fend for herself, and her fending comes in the form of Pierre's Vanilla Bean or Neapolitan). Again, hold the judgement. Target ended with a $153.17 receipt and no fucking jellybeans. After stopping at two more stores that were completely sold out of any type of beans (although I did manage to get us matching swimsuits which I am sure Olivia will be horrified about) I thought of trying the gas station. Surely, I thought, “normal” parents don’t do their Easter Bunny shopping at Sunoco. Ummmm apparently some of them do. Fresh out of jellybeans. I did end of finally finding jelly beans at my fourth store- way to pull through Dollar Tree - and I did in fact make a trail to her baskets. Three and a half minutes before she arrived home, but done nonetheless. I met her and her dad at the door with my ears on and a bowl for collecting. I made her put on matching ears before the great gathering though ;) I sure am glad the mom guilt got the better of me this time :) Her giggles confirmed that this time guilt was my own happy trail.
Have you ever heard the term third place? Arabica Coffee House is one of mine ;) The term was coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in a book he published in 1989 called The Great Good Place: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Bars, Hair Salons, and Other Hangouts at the Heart of Community. I first heard the term mentioned by respected philosopher, professor, colleague, and all around good human being Justin Miller. We were working together on a campus day presentation at Cuyahoga Community College, when he introduced the concept to a crowd of academics. The basics are this: 1st place is home, 2nd place is work, and there, thankfully, exists a bunch of third places where creativity, conversation, and connection abound. In my notes, I have scribbled examples of third places he mentioned such as the Forum in ancient Rome or a contemporary English pub - places where ideas spring organically from interaction with others. According to the summary provided on Wikipedia, hallmarks of these third places include: 1) Neutral Ground - Nobody feels obligated to be there. People are there because they choose to be. 2) Leveler - No hierarchy here. Nobody much cares about your high flutin degree from your Ivy League School. 3) Conversation is where it's at - The place is bustling with talk. 4) Accessibility and Accommodation - People feel welcomed and cared for in these places. 5) The Regulars - You can count on some familiar faces there to welcome you into the fold. 6) A Low Profile - These places are not pretentious. They emit the come as you are, stay as you want , drop your bags at the door feelings of home. 7) Playful - Third places are often a place to feel light. Jovial. Full of banter, elbow nudges, and lively laughter. 8) A Home Away from Home - These places provide a sense of belonging. Individuals "feel a piece of themselves is rooted in the space, and gain spiritual regeneration by spending time there." What is really the most defining feature of a third places is how it makes you feel - accepted, inspired, at ease. These places make you feel like you are a part of something bigger than yourself. A glorious part of the collective. Perhaps my old boss turned friend, Dr. Jay Michael Thomson said it best when in his big gregarious way he pronounced, “Place is bigger than geography. Place becomes a code-word for relationships." I want to thank Tim and Tina (owners of Arabica in DTW Willoughby) for providing a third place for so many of us! I've come to value the friendship they have offered (in addition to a remote work space). It truly has become my version of "Cheers" without the booze :) I love that Tim knows as soon as he sees me to ask if I'll be going with my 90% of the time beverage choice (iced mocha with whip and shakey chocolate) or my 10% of the time choice (the "Elvis"). I love that Tina was willing to do Facebook 'Lives' with me and silly Santa poses. I love that they let me play pretend barista and that they are so supportive of other small businesses (Tim and I pointing to the sticker Janie and I created, not flicking people off as it might appear on first glance!) Our sticker and our Soulscape Deck are both available for purchase here. As Tim and I were chatting it up one day, he mentioned the joy he feels in having the chance to start someone's day off differently. He explained how often he is the first interaction someone has in a day, and so he does his best to greet 'his' people kindly and send them away smiling. (Part of a third place is that feeling of being kin if you will). These are "relationships you develop 5 minutes at a time," he proudly told me. I love that! And I'm so glad that my 5 minutes at a time have morphed into more like 5 hours at a time :) The past few weeks I've been plagued by nightmares which have left me sleep-deprived and grumpy. Having done some dream work with Dr. Clarissa Estes, author of Women Who Run With the Wolves, I know that dreams are no joke! They are, rather, "portals, entrances, preparations and practices for the next step in consciousness" (Estes). Knowing this, in some ways, scared me even more. In one of these dreams, I was combing out my hair when I suddenly felt something catch on the comb. It was a bee. I panicked as I discovered that the more I combed the more bees I found. The details are fuzzy. For instance, I don't remember if they were dead or alive, if they were stinging me, or not. I just know that it was disturbing and I woke up feeling very unsettled. The next night an alligator showed up. I was hiking through some flat terrain with Olivia when all of a sudden I turned back to say something to her and realized a gator had lurched from the brown sandy dirt and was chasing us. Googling the 'meanings' of these images left me feeling even worse: death, illness, deceit, danger. Let's just say it seemed pretty apparent that these were not good omens. With my anxiety petty high, I tried to process some of this with a trusted group of creatives I meet with via Zoom every other week. They helped me 'reframe' my bee encounter in some new ways. Even though I don't particularly like bees I feel a kind of affinity with them given that my last name "Ambrosia" translates to nectar. One of the women on the call pointed out that in ancient mythology hair is often associated with ideas which reminded me of other theories I have heard about hair being antenna to spirit. My friend said, "Maybe you were combing ideas out of your hair." I liked this interpretation much better lol. After our call, and some more thinking, and a little Etsy shopping (thank you Pop Bang Boom for the gorgeous bee clip and the so cute black and yellow wrapping), I decided to ask another friend/artist who was on that call if she would help me get the image out of my head and onto some paper. I thought that it might be helpful and healing to try to transform my fear into something that, while haunting, could also be made beautiful. She agreed to help. But how to include that pesty gator in this image? I had done a cord-cutting meditation during this string of nightmares period in what turned out to be a failed attempt to stop the dreams. Since that didn't work, I asked her to turn the alligator into an ally and have him cut, with his teeth, the cord I couldn't seem to cut in my sleep. I started thinking about a curved mirror my mom had given me some years ago and which I need to find a place for since redoing my bedroom. I snapped this pic last night to add to this post. And then this morning I got a pop-up pic from 5 years ago of the same mirror (that is spooky shit, right?). I thought of the mirror's ornate floral scroll work and how an alligator tail might look curving up into the design. I love working with artists who intuitively understand how important it is to get the details just so. No easy task when given guidance that is messy, disjointed, and dream-hazed. Lyndsie took such time in asking me questions regarding the shape and style of the comb, its coloring and detail. We talked about the position of the woman's arms and the length of her bangs and how important it felt to me that the alligator be facing opposite the woman in the mirror - a desire to move behind past pains. I am so excited to share her work both here and on Insta @creative_collective_co. She will be launching her new website soon and is currently accepting clients. So if there is some vision you also want to get out of your head and into a frame, on an invitation, scripted on signage, etc. reach out and introduce yourself. You can find her her on Facebook @chaysingdreamsdesigns
"The wild woman is fluent in the language of dreams, images, passion, and poetry.” (Estes)
Ummmm…Noooooope - not on here. No Alistar in sight :( Wait! Where is he? Definitely missed him. After yet another nauseating ride, I’ve decided to get off as I am sill traumatized from the last go around. But, if, and when I decide to reenter the mind fuck that is online dating I want to go in better prepared. Yeah, I know I’ve said it before and I even started constructing a rubric. Now it is time to ask for help in finishing it since I refuse to put myself through any more first hand research (aka torture) at the moment. The below rubric started as a result of one too many SMH moments and group thread convos where I shared with girlfriends the unbelievable stuff I was seeing and not believing on current dating apps! And before I go offending a million people in a million different ways, I should clarify that this rubric is specific to me at this point in my life. If you are someone who doesn’t share my tastes (and 5 yrs ago this thing would have looked completely different - even for me) perhaps try flipping the numbers so that my “no way in hell, absolutely not” becomes your “let’s go to city hall and make this shit official.” Here’s what I’ve come up with so far….please let me know where I can be more specific, broaden my scope, or flesh things out some more. Other things to note:
- Men look entirely different depending on what their current head/facial hair situation is (I honestly will do a side by side of pics and be like that is no way the same individual). Is makeup the equivalent for girls? - Be wary of only closed lipped smiles and when all pics include sunglasses. So now that I probably look like a super picky, unstable, superficial person myself who spends weekend nights making rubrics I will never use, it is probably a good thing I'm on this dating hiatus :) I know that this is not often the type of photograph you see on my social media feeds. I mean it’s depressing right?
But it’s truth. And if I’m honest, some of my best creating comes out of crisis. Exhibit A: After my divorce from a partner I spent the past 17 years with I formed and facilitated a sister circle for women who wanted more. More of what is really a question you’d have to ask them. I’m not sure I can define what I wanted more of back then. Or even now. I just knew that there was, that there is - a longing to explore what ‘more’ might mean. Exhibit B: After yet another particularly rough breakup (with someone who changed my life in unspeakably beautiful ways), I wrote my first piece of poetry. And much to my surprise, it was published. Which led to other publications I’m mightily proud of. Exhibit C: When we almost lost my mom to Covid last March, I ramped up a project with an illustrator friend and we completed a 32 card oracle deck in only 9 months (you can find it on IG @creative_collective_co). It seems that creativity comes to me easily in times of great pain where I desperately call upon it to keep me from complete self-destruction. However, sometimes I’d like to experience such alignment under less traumatic circumstances, to meet up with my Muses under less precarious conditions. And I’m getting there – mainly by establishing a more disciplined practice when it comes to my craft. I’m learning that it is all just a continuum anyway. Today, the tears came again. This time while driving down Mentor Ave., Aspen Dental to the left of me, Carpet One to the right (I mean could I have picked a less romantic place to cry? Why not at the Windermere Peaks like T. Swift in her bonus track the lakes? Or a church bell tower? A field in the rain?). And here’s the strange part – I don’t even know why I was crying. I don’t even know if they were happy tears or sad ones. I just know that I’m glad I had them. Glad they were still there. |
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I am a creative writer, a runner, a seeker, a teacher, and a student. I've been practicing yoga since 2014 and story-telling my whole life. Archives
July 2021
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