Just Be Yourself

This past Friday night, I saw ‘Midnight in Paris’ with three good friends.


Super movie.

But this isn’t about that.

We stopped by the ladies room following the film, and, when I closed the door of my stall, I was stunned - happily-dancing-at-my-luck kind of stunned - to find the following written clearly on the door, in black marker. Nice handwriting, even:

Just Be Yourself.

Sooo...I had just received an anonymous hug and good advice from a fellow movie goer who carries a Sharpie in her purse. Maybe she, like me, had had a Blue Moon beer, a pretzel (no salt, no oil) and seen a great movie when she felt inspired to so publicly share wisdom. 

Or maybe she was on a date with someone who inspired her to be herself - who she could sense liked who she was underneath the layers of typical first date conversation. A positive hum lingered in the air.

Or it's possible she was sick of the junk that's normally - albeit, enthusiastically - posted to the interior walls of public bathroom stalls. All the "I Love (fill in the blank)" with scratch-outs by jealous others and insults hurled aplenty.

Perhaps it's that women are inspired to write more thoughtful things on the insides of stalls in cute indie movie theaters.

Whatever the genesis of the Great Graffiti, the experience for me was akin to finding some well-timed quote on the little paper tag attached to my hot tea bag. But this ladies' room circumstance was much more random-seeming, so I felt even more fortunate. 

"Just Be Yourself" was to be found in the one stall I picked. The one clean stall in the place.

If the woman who inscribed the words also happens to be the person who left the stall so nice and hospitable, wow - she's truly Royalty to me, and deserving of free movies at the Magnolia Theatre for life.

Especially movies like 'Midnight in Paris,' that remind us to focus on the pursuits, places and people that give the greatest joy.

What does "Just Be Yourself" mean to You, Sweet Reader, at this moment? 


I really can't think of a time in which the words aren't a helpful mantra. Sure, there are always apropos moments to hold your tongue, to be kinder than necessary - yet you can simultaneously always Be Yourself. 

When you are honest about who you are, the sun in your world shines a little brighter. It's unstoppable. So consider tossing your emotional sunscreen for a bit. Or a lifetime. 


The world needs your authentic, caring, creative, analytical, studious, dynamic self. This includes your extra 5 pounds, any wrinkles, scars, stretch marks and other signs that you've been LIVING. It's all good. Really good. 

Imperfection + genuine heart + energy means a lot gets done, and people will actually enjoy working with you to help accomplish what your heart desires.

Get out there, love! And please - tell me what happens! 

Love,

Melinda


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What I Know About Love

We've all seen the relationships that make us smile, that make us want to "reach" when it comes to our own choices.

Our inner voices begin to ring with courageous statements like:

Hello, Lamentable Moments of My Personal History: you will not own me. 

I will not press repeat. 

and 

I deserve real happiness and someone who looks out for that as well as they look out for their own.

A moment with a really happy, got-it-together couple or other close relationship can truly inspire. Their bright lights encourage us to swiftly deny 'less than' as an option in our own situations.

My Aunt Billie and Uncle Larry were one of those neat pairings, and it was one our entire family admired. Billie and Larry were each other's second marriage.  And it lasted for many years, until Billie lost a valiant battle with cancer. 

In one another, they found their best friends, and knew to be grateful. 

Experience is such a teacher. A humbler. A willing lover if we'll embrace it.


There was never a snide comment by one about the other's quirks or weaknesses. Billie and Larry didn't allow that kind of ka-ka to seep in to their relationship. 

They had no fear whatsoever of someone giving them grief about being permanently smitten. And they laughed - a lot. 

While never entering the realm of socially awkward or showy PDA, Aunt Billie and Uncle Larry were most often seen holding hands when together. Absolutely the biggest fans of one another. 


They made it look easy. The sticking in, sticking with, staying happy. 

When Billie developed terminal cancer, they gave the disease the finger, and fought the cancer instead of one another.

Somehow, though, despite the great examples of healthy, vibrant relationships in each of our lives, you and I will sometimes give in to lesser arrangements and motivations - to not trusting our guts, to rickety, ill-born impulse, to people who rattle the cage of our insecurities, to loneliness, to the wind that howls by the clock in our minds. 

And when we do this - when we say "yes" to what will always be "no" - we bear a price without measure. We step off a cliff with no estimate of the height. 

There is a mud of compromise that sticks to your shoes and rings in your head each time you talk with or touch an ill-fitting companion.

Some of us will then swallow the 'not quite right for me' pill that never, ever makes our stomachs settle. And that pill, you must swallow - often - in order to stay.

Too many years of this, and you can become a bit unrecognizable.

I heard this week a song by the band Mumford & Sons that featured the following line:

"Where you invest your love, you invest your life."

And it hit me: We'd better make sure those are good decisions.

We get just one life to figure out how to best spend our years.

So why should we share them with anyone - or anything - that doesn't cut the mustard?

It doesn't mean the person must be perfect. It does mean they have to be kind.

And look out for you.

Make you laugh.

Make you a priority.

Be unafraid to love you...and let others know.

We're all learning daily how to save our best for those we love most - friends, family, significant others. Some days, we stink, and we lose our temper, or our minds, and say things that could have been nicer. Or left unsaid.

Other days, we win - we grow closer, and more unafraid to look someone in the eyes and say thanks and give them a great big hug. 

Isn't "I Love You" just a really precious way to say "Thank You," after all?

Thanks for taking care of my heart.

Thanks for knowing what to say.

Thanks for saying nothing and knowing everything.

Thanks for being a place of rest for me.

We all need it.

The hug - the validation - the stability of an embrace you know and trust.


It's a little miracle on our path - every time.

Love, 

Melinda


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Hello, Stranger. You're a GIFT.

There's something intrinsically wonderful and interesting about strangers.

For starters, strangers most often don't look just like you. Refreshing, it is, after days, months, years in the mirror with one's own mug. 

I find a new set of facial features to be a key ingredient for an encounter blissfully free of expectations. Nothing is familiar, so any good thing is possible. 

Fully engaged in the mysteries of their own lives, strangers will still often stop to address you - a smile, a mouthed hello...an opened door at Starbucks that could have easily closed behind them. 

Strangers are thrown into the salad of your day, and the neat thing is: you get to decide what to make of the situations; of the strangers themselves - ignore completely, or engage - and both are equally acceptable social responses. 

Isn't that neat? The very 'choosing' being ok? Our simple need for occasional quiet can swathe the blatant disregard of strangers with all the political correctness in the world.

Yet it's fun how the connectedness of us all, the very grace of God can hit you when a stranger points out that you have a low tire, or twelve sheets of Quilted Northern Ultra Plush stuck to your shoe. 

Little gifts of awareness. 

And then there are strangers to whom we are rather magnetically drawn - inexplicable, powerful recognitions we find in another face that actually require a decision on our part. 

We were just there, doing our thing, and poof - opportunity we can sense with our own rising pulse sets in, in the face of a stranger. And its often not even a physical/amorous-type attraction - it's a living connection. 

Suddenly, a flower of our life that we didn't even know existed has the ability to unfurl, unfold, let its very hair down and run, grinning, smack into the field of our own destiny. 

If. We. Ourselves. Will. First. Open. Up.

Just the thought of that happening makes me want to get good sleep tonight. 

I don't want to miss meeting a new friend, and the doors that open every time that happens. I absolutely savor running my fingers across the beautifully hand-carved entrances that open out onto the best adventures of my life. Or the new wisdom. Yum. 

I was reminded of that phenomena this year on Easter Sunday. After having brunch with a friend's family, I stepped into the restroom of their country club, nearest the front doors. 

There, I encountered a woman at the vanity with whom I felt compelled to speak - and, specifically, I knew I was to compliment her ivory necklace. I didn't know exactly why yet - the piece of jewelry was wonderful, certainly - beaded, with an ornate oval pendant - but I felt like God was telling me to talk to the woman about it. Now. 

So, while washing my hands, I told her how beautiful her necklace was, and smiled. She, approximately 80, petite, with thick silver hair in natural waves, solid features and blue-pool eyes, smiled back at me, said thank you, and then paused. So, I paused, too. (I'm learning to do that lately.) 

She then told me that the necklace was one she had purchased in China, many years ago. She had watched the craftsman make the pendant, carving its intricate pattern with the tiniest of hand tools. I suddenly felt like I was there beside her, watching it all happen. Her necklace. Her memories. We might have been about the same age.

It was my first, umm...trip to China.

We returned to the mirror, to Easter, to present-day when she shared that the necklace was very special to her. And she then smiled the smile of a woman with satisfying moments in her heart and chapters of depth.

I was so fortunate to see that happen. 

Our interaction reminded me to live my own vibrant life, to allow myself a few sentimental things to hold onto as I age (glass of cab in one hand, token of adventure in the other, warmth in my heart)...and to not be afraid to stop and talk to strangers. Anytime, anywhere.

Often, we need to learn something right now if we're to make pliable the potential of tomorrow and forward. 

What's your ivory necklace that reminds you of chances taken and sweet rewards?

Who's your stranger today?

Love,

-Melinda

Illustration Credit: Keiko Nakabachi/Imagezoo/Getty Images

Baby, You're the Top

A is for Awesome...and B is for Bought...mmm-hmmm! 

Spotted this top today at a Capezio store. 

Has a fabulous deep scoop back with tie, too. 

No, I haven't taken up dance. Of any kind. Am a little too clutzy for such...I tried a Zumba class with a friend at her gym, and the women who were 70+ completely kicked my bootie in the coordination dept. 

But shopping? I'm almost always game. 

Even if I were on crutches, love, I would have balanced an arm on the register, fished in my purse for the Amex and purchased. 

This top is light as air, soft as velvet and f-u-n!

Hey Now, You're An All-Star

Wow - sometimes we limit ourselves, don't we?

All that self-control may come in handy when contemplating a second piece of pie, but it thwarts our real success when we say 'no' to things our hearts know are true and full of growth.

Sometimes we avoid trying new things, connecting, reaching out because we're exhausted. Or stressed. Maybe we've gained 10 pounds. You know - "nothing in the closet fits, so we're not going shopping anywhere" - including life's basket of neat blessings.

When you're feeling down, a 'new opportunity' kinda sounds like it could be just another kick in the butt.

And so we gaze at that opportunity for a moment, and we opt out.

We freeze and let the good thing pass, like a shadow.

Or we holler an excuse at it - as if it's listening to excuses.

Sure, it becomes harder to breath when we emotionally roll into a ball.

Yet there's a weird comfort in the familiarity of our own labored breath.

Which is where my trainer, Donnie Posas, comes in.

He trains normal people, like me, as well as UFC and MMA fighters. He's studied multiple martial arts since he was a child. He is ridiculously strong and fast and gifted in teaching. His wife, Natalie, is gorgeous - she looks like something out of The Matrix - and is an amazing mother to their five children. You get the picture. These people are super sonic and accomplishing great things in the world.

Donnie is teaching me to box (not girly-boxing - REAL boxing) and pushes me physically and mentally past any old ideas I have of "that of which I am capable"…

His first question to me - every week - is, "You Ready?"

Well, this week, he texted to me the image that accompanies this post.

I don't really need to explain it, do I?

We each know an area of our lives in which the wimpy side of us is hanging out, hanging on, stifling our growth.

So kindly look in the mirror today and introduce yourself to 'The Person You Think You're Not.'

Why? You'll meet the person who holds in their hands The Greatest Things You Will Ever Do.

And to those Things, we must say, "YES!"

Love,

Melinda

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Good Day, Sunshine!

Although my parents had the best of intentions and really big hearts, their divorce when my brother and I were young rocked our worlds. I had never seen my parents fight - not once could I remember - and suddenly, one day in 1979, our little family was o-v-e-r.

And, unfortunately, the counseling and support for kids of divorce that is popular today - and so wonderfully effective - just wasn't around then. We were on the cutting edge of dividing a family.

1979 was a weird year that launched me into being a rather serious kid - and one with a mistrust of good times. I thought, One Day You Can Be Riding Your Strawberry Pink Bike And Singing, And The Next Day It's Moving Trucks and Tears.

The otherwise delightful cocktail of joking, laughing and celebrating - so essential to a worthwhile life - often represented to me the summoning of a coming cloud.

This childhood belief seemed affirmed when, as a young adult, I lost five family members I loved dearly within two years' time. I felt a little cursed and dangerous to get close to.

Although a generally happy person, I often held my breath at the sweetest moments of my life, saving some room in my lungs to exhale in case of a nasty surprise.

I had gotten counseling to handle my parents' divorce and such over the years...and yet still found great satisfaction in planning for random catastrophe. I own a car stocked with jumper cables, bottled water, emergency glass-break tools, blanket, and a camera to document an accident. Even my insurance card is laminated - you get the picture. ; )

This week, however - Valentines Day 2011 - a knock-you-out-kind-of-joy overtook me and released me from believing that happiness has an evil twin. There is no more need of that kind of fear in my heart. And I guess I want to share the experience with you. It's big for me.

I'm calling it Face To The Sun.

I went on a tour of the new glass and steel, red-lacquered Winspear Opera House, in Dallas. The grounds of the Opera House feature an outdoor amphitheater that is simply amazing, and of which I was previously completely unaware. Named for Shannon and Ted Skokos, this Pavilion is sheathed in wonderfully soft grass and sunshine and resides behind a enormous, pristine concrete wall - it's visually tucked away, and yet right next to the Woodall Rodgers Freeway. Love it.

Our wonderful guide, Carlos Flores, introduced our little tour group to the three technicians standing in a contemporary mission-control center in the middle of the Pavilion's enormous grass lawn. These gentlemen were testing the amphitheatre's incredible sound system that afternoon. There was music everywhere - booming from huge speakers seemingly mounted to the sky.

After the introductions to the technicians were made, my date asked the gentlemen if he could please plug his iPhone into the amphitheatre's system and play a favorite song. Our little tour group of seven just kind of held its collective breath. This was an unusual request, we all knew, but one lobbed with kindness and humility…and awe…

The head technician smiled, paused a moment and said, "Sure!"

In just seconds, the song was booming through the amphitheater, with all of downtown in the background - it was simply amazing!

Another member of our group then asked permission to do the same. His wish was also granted, and Jonathan's selection of the song 'Cecilia' by Simon and Garfunkel (in honor of his girlfriend, Cecilia, also present) was soon coursing through all of us and, seemingly, the City at Large. : )

What was the icing on the cake: Jonathan's beloved, Cecilia herself, danced across that lawn to the music, to the delight of all of us. Face To The Sun.

This was a gift. A sign.

And one I won't forget.

Face To The Sun is to me, a boldness toward life.

An embracing of each day - calling each one BIG and RIPE. It's the very fact that it's OK not to know what's ahead.

It's an unusual way for me to think, and even stranger for me to publish so publicly.

As I think on yesterday, I realize God keeps putting people in front of me lately that are celebrating life - who are unafraid despite their own scars and scares - and I ADORE these people. They no longer make me crazy with worry. I've decided to hold hands with them, and let their fearlessness course through me.

It's working.

After all, if I'm going to fear, now is the time.

My mom and I are closer than ever.

My only sibling is on a missions trip in a war-torn country, assisting civilians in need of medical care.

I have an amazing cast of friends and family around the world that make me blissfully sigh with their desire to be a part of my little life - how much joy they bring, how fortunate I am!

But rather than worry over these blessings, I'm going to trust them to the hands of the Capable, Loving God who made me. And crafted you, too, Lovely One. He truly wants us filled with Joy and Expectation.

If I'm hit by a truck tomorrow, I will be smiling with love and whatever-comes-next. Cause I put one foot in front the other and dug in with each step, starting yesterday. I felt the soil beneath my feet, the wind in my hair and the sun on my own happy face. And breathed easy.

I will give a big French kiss to that Peterbilt grill if I meet it, I'm telling you.

That's the kind of life I now live. The rest of the years of my life will reflect it.

May I encourage you to turn your face to the sun, too? Maybe that's squeezing in an overdue visit with a friend. Or staying up later than you should and kissing your beloved in a meaningful way, even if you've forgotten how. Your hearts will stir. Your lips will remember.

Or maybe you're like I was, and there's an irrational fear that runs part of your life and saps your energy, your ability to connect. Throw it in the toilet today. Flush. As many times as you need to.

God will give you other things to focus on - things that give you joy - if you'll just hand your slice of crazy over to Him.

The freedom you'll gain is entirely worth the courage required.

Love,

Melinda

Photo Credit: Getty Images