Traveling is a siren call for me. Exploring places outside my element is appealing and enlightening. It shows me that my sliver of the world is microscopic in the grand scheme.
Privilege and limitations become obvious when I step outside my comfort zone. The appreciation I feel walking out in the great wide world runs deep. Yet not knowing the local language, verbal or written, reminds me to be patient and persistent. And willing to be awkward.
My husband and I visited Vienna and Budapest – without a detailed plan. Our agenda was spontaneous within a basic outline. We knew where we were staying, when and how we’d get there. But our excursions were in the moment. We asked for help along the way. And found it from our hotel concierge, locals, other tourists – and serendipity. It was an adventure and a challenge. A moment in time to remember.
And true to form, coming home is sweet satisfaction.
“Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” – Gustave Flaubert
Seth Godin says that sunk costs are “a gift from your former self”. . and . . “the question is, do you have to accept that gift?”
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Maybe yes, maybe no. Some sunk costs propel me forward in a good way. Others are an anchor holding me down. Only I can know how sunk costs impact my life. The time, effort and money to pursue an education, a profession or a relationship is worth it only if I’m better for it emotionally.
Seth says that “our ability to rationalize sunk cost is really spectacular.” How hard or easy it is to tell other people that we’re “ignoring sunk costs” – influences what we think of ourselves.
What other people think . . .
So yeah; stay in that profession that cost a small fortune to achieve; so what if I’m miserable. Don’t move, don’t leave, don’t give up that childhood dream – it took SO much to get here. And this is who I am.
Is that easy? No – But it’s possible, and sometimes that’s enough.
“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
As someone who loves words and their subtle nuances and layers, Brené Brown’s book “Atlas of the Heart” is especially delicious. She examines emotions and experiences, and the words we use to define them. How we make meaning. She says:
“.. the ability to name this emotion or experience is essential to being able to process it in a productive and healing manner.”
The 87 words she highlights and categorizes are organized based on her research. Groupings are determined by how words “.. relate and compare to one another.” That reflect “our lived experiences.”
Hope
Chapter Six struck a chord. Hope is an upbeat word for me. How could it be tucked in with the chapter on “Places We Go When We’re Hurting – Anguish, Hopelessness, Despair, Sadness, Grief?” Ms. Brown says “Hope is a function of struggle – we develop hope not during the easy or comfortable times, but through adversity and discomfort.” Hope is not an emotion.
“We experience hope when:
We have the ability to set realistic goals (I Know where I want to go).
We are able to figure out how to achieve those goals, including the ability to stay flexible and develop alternative pathways (I know how to get there, I’m persistent, and I can tolerate disappointment and try new paths again and again).
We have agency – we believe in ourselves (I can do this!).”
“We need hope like we need air.”
A myriad of distractions the past 7 years did a number on some of my cherished goals. Unsettling political times, a global pandemic and a couple relocations took their toll. Left me questioning where I want to go and how to get there. Can I even do it?
Brené says that “hope is forged when our goals, pathways, and agency are tested and when change is actually possible.” She also says it’s a learned habit.
So … Tested? Check. Possible? Likely. Good to know.
Hopelessness and Despair
While both are emotions, they aren’t the same thing. They’re equally hard, but the distinctions are notable.
“Hopelessness stems from not being able to set realistic goals (we don’t know what we want), and even if we can identify realistic goals, we can’t figure out how to achieve them. If we attempt to achieve the goals, we give up when we fail, we can’t tolerate disappointment, and we can’t reset. Last, we don’t believe in ourselves or our ability to achieve what we want.”
“Despair is a sense of hopelessness about a person’s entire life and future. When extreme hopelessness seeps into all the corners of our lives and combines with extreme sadness, we feel despair.”
Brené goes on to say:
“I once heard theologian Rob Bell define despair as “the belief that tomorrow will be just like today.” When we are in struggle and/or experiencing pain, despair—that belief that there is no end to what we’re experiencing—is a desperate and claustrophobic feeling. We can’t figure a way out of or through the struggle and the suffering.”
The permanence built into believing tomorrow won’t be better is tragic. This is where the habit of resilience comes in handy.
Re-evaluating my goals and sitting in ambiguity is different than hopelessness. My long-time habit of seeing the glass as half full is a strength, a touchstone. No doubt this period of time was a trial. My gratitude for cultivating a hopeful perspective is immeasurable. Knowing the distinctions in my situation carried me to a better place.
“I think that little by little I’ll be able to solve my problems and survive.” ― Frida Kahlo
Astrologically speaking, March is a big month. Lots of movement; fasten your seatbelt. For those of us who follow the art of astrology it’s an eventful, spicy time. But nuanced and paradoxical.
In Astrology is an Art Liz Greene says that “simple answers are not what astrology is about.” Rather it offers a “set of mysteries to explore, and yet another set of unanswered questions to stretch our minds and transform our views of reality.”
My favorite astrologer is Chani Nicholas. She’s insightful and detailed. Her CHANI App, TikTok and Instagram accounts are fun and informative. Also, she prefaces her readings with an important reminder that they’re “to be read as inspiration.”
Back in 2018 I was fascinated when Saturn entered Capricorn. Chani says that “Saturn has been in one of its home signs – Capricorn and Aquarius” since 2017. As the traditional ruler of both, their “boundaries and rules came unadulterated.” Pisces in Saturn may be more like a “jellyfish.” The Saturn structure “will feel gentler . . . its walls spongier and receptive to the changing tides.” Exciting stuff after the restrictions imposed by the pandemic.
Pluto, the planet of transformation, last entered Aquarius in 1778 – 246 years ago. Astrologers are reminding us of the momentous events of that era. The French Revolution; Independence of the United States; the Age of Enlightenment; incredible inventions. Pluto will only be here for 2-1/2 months in 2023. Consider it a preview of what’s coming in 2024 and will last 20 years! Might history repeat itself?
Mars, the planet of desire, drive and energy usually cycles a sign every two months. But it’s been in Gemini since Aug 2022–7 months. Gemini’s energy is restless in Mars but gives us the get-up-and-go to do something about it. With Cancer it’s a different vibe. Cancer is a “sign of emotional sensitivity and intuition,” according to Astrologer Rhiannon Liselle. Her advice is to connect “to your shadow, which makes itself known during oppositional transits such as these.” Whatever we encounter, our energy will be different.
Not enough? There’s more . . .
Three other fast-moving planets change signs this month. There are five conjunctions. A square. Well-aspected new and full moons. Two cazimis. A Sun sign change and the spring equinox. Phew!
Flowers are reemerging, trees are budding. Spring will be here in less than two weeks. I’m ready.
This is a great time to take an opportunity to feel the energetic shift; shake off the old and embrace the new. Change can be disquieting. But when I open my mind to potential and possibility, I can roll with what shows up.
“Dare to Know! Have the courage to use your own reason.”
Some lessons come out of the blue. Yes, I’m on a sincere quest to know myself – but damn! Those revelations that catch me sideways are booger-bears.
While I’m familiar with the “Aha!” of sudden insight, a recent and unexpected epiphany threw me.
Brené Brown’s book Atlas of the Heart explores the language of experience. She helps us define meaning and gain understanding from emotions. In the chapter on “Places We Go When It’s Beyond Us” her insights helped me appreciate that surprising and confusing Eureka moment.
“I need time for my confusion.” Confusion can be a cue that there’s new territory to be explored or a fresh puzzle to be solved.”
She continues saying “.. confusion like many uncomfortable things in life, is vital for learning. According to research, confusion has the potential to motivate, lead to deep learning, and trigger problem solving.”
With my area of focus the past six months crystalizing, I found that I’d hunkered down in my story. When I was presented with some sound logic revealing a persistent blind-spot I was dumbfounded.
Had to sit with that discomfort for a little minute.
However, it led me to move into another emotion Ms. Brown groups with confusion – curiosity.
Many of my recent discoveries are sound, and I’m pointed in the right direction. But the nuance I found by removing this barrier revealed a treasure trove to explore.
Now, I can’t cop to being comfortable sitting in confusion; but curiosity motivates me.
I KNOW – that I don’t know what I don’t know. I have decades of willingness to be uncomfortable and risk being wrong under my belt. And still, I have blind spots.
“Choosing to be curious is choosing to be vulnerable because it requires us to surrender to uncertainty. We have to ask questions, admit to not knowing, risk being told that we shouldn’t be asking, and, sometimes, make discoveries that lead to discomfort.”
