Not Down With the Brown

NOT DOWN WITH THE BROWN

There were definitely close encounters, but nothing ever came to fruition.   My friends and I couldn’t understand this.  We were beautiful educated fashionable girls, these were young male musicians.  Doesn’t that automatically equate with a hookup?  My friend Taschka and I would dissect this inconsistency, because things just didn’t add up.  Could it be they were just not into ethnic girls? 

We began breaking down the evidence.  These included the following questions: Who did these guys previously date?  If they once dated someone brown, they would be more likely again to  be open to eyeing you as a viable option.  Who was in their circle of friends?  Who were their celebrity crushes?  Was it someone who was truly ethnic, or the whitest ethnic girl out there that everyone loved, who was passable and acceptable?  What types of girls were in their music videos?  Who were their musical influences?  Were they strictly into hard core classic rock and roll bands like Led Zepplin or would they sample from Michael Jackson?  What part of the country were they from, and what was the white to ethnic ratio in that town?  How would dating an ethnic girl impact their reputation?  Would it be scandalous if they were photographed by paparazzi with a brown girl?  When meeting them, was there any flirtation or was it simply cordial thank you from an artist to a fan?  Could they dance with real rhythm? Were they themselves some type of ethnic minority? 

It was relieving to have this conversation aloud.  For many years I thought this, but never had the courage to say it.   If it was mentioned to white friends, the topic was minimized.  “What are you talking about?  You’re beautiful, your race doesn’t matter.”  At times in Ohio, I would talk with my longtime friend Lisa who was full Filipino and we may joke about it, but there were so few minorities in our town.  We viewed ourselves in Ohio as these rare find commodities, such as vintage classic cars.  Nobody owns them, they’re just on display to oohh and ahh at because they’re unique.  Using humor about our brown pride was easier than actually taking in the fact that people may not be interested us because of our race.

My mom, who was full Filipino, mentioned that when she dated my Caucasian dad in Ohio during the late 70’s, he refused to hold her hand in public because of their racial differences.  He feared being ridiculed, and that took priority over my mom’s potential need for affection.  I was surprised this wasn’t a larger issue in the home, as they were still married at the time.  But this was reality and normality for many interracial couples.  Prior to the 1950s interracial dating was illegal in many states in America.  This wasn’t so long ago. I still felt racial tension and a sense of not being fully accepted by my paternal grandmother who lived in small town Pennsylvania.  Growing up in Ohio, why wasn’t this more in the forefront of my upbringing?  

But now that I was in Los Angeles, I was having this conversation with a friend who thought the same way but was from another race.  Many of my friends in Los Angeles were ethnic minorities and we would have group discussions about this.  We may daydream of these white boys, but in reality did we even stand a chance?  Making them like us was out of the question.  All we could do was study why they may not be physically attracted to us or never allow themselves to even think of dating us. 

I was already doing a doctoral project on the multiracial identification process.  This type of conversation was in some ways an extension of this.   Acceptance of interracial dating, led to interracial marriage, and multiracial babies.  It was all connected. 

I remember my Greek/Cyrean friend Michelle tried to get me to be part of the tv show Blind Date.  This show was on from the late 1990’s to mid 2000’s.  I believe it was based out of Burbank, and my friend who dragged me to the casting call was living in Burbank at the time.  It was not to be one of the main people who chose a date, but so you could be part of the Blind Date’s database system.  I had gone in one day, with a small line of other young men and women, whose faces would grace the selection process.  The normal questions were asked: age, profession, city you were raised in.  Then the kicker question came in, what races would you be open to dating? I admitted to being flexible, and I know for a fact Michelle had said the same thing.  She definitely did not discriminate, and actually preferred chocolate men. Almost everyone else present in the room on that day, solely said Caucasian. 

Remind you, I was in the room, and I definitely wasn’t pure white.  People didn’t care, if they were going to be on a dating show, they wanted to ensure they would be paired with someone they could be attracted to, and this was another white person.  I believe Michelle was called to do the show, but chose to not follow up as she didn’t want her personal life displayed on tv for the world to see, even if it was only for one episode.  I was never called to be anyone’s date on the show, probably because I didn’t fit their criteria.  I was on the path to getting my doctorate by the age I turned 25, but there was something I couldn’t change no matter how educated I was, how much money I made, or how beautiful and thin I was.  I was not white.  I didn’t follow the conversation up with Michelle, as I didn’t think she would understand.  She was white and never experienced this type of dating discrimination, and she was romantically open minded. 

I did bring the recent casting call up to my ethnic friends, and we further used the topic of white hot male celebrities as our main topic, but this later catapulted to other normal hot white guys.  Some of my friends who grew up in Los Angeles felt a strong attraction to white guys, but felt this would never be realized because they were either a mixture of African American, Asian, or Latin.  My friend Jennie, who is Korean, took the topic further saying “White guys don’t like me because I look too FOB.  And I don’t have white girlfriends.  White people just don’t like me.”   

Although having these conversations felt validating, it was sad.  How could we be young beautiful women and have such insecurities?  But in truth, there could be reality to this.  And it was out of our control.  The only thing we could control was our potential knowledge and dissection of the topic as it pertained to each individual crush.  Having this in depth discussion and exploration of race in America further solidified our bond.

One thing that’s amazing about living in cities like Los Angeles or New York, is the top 100 beautiful men that People names you could run into at your local coffee shop.  Where many women throughout America, only drool and dream at this opportunity, we can actually have this happen.  The downfall to this, is that after you have so many runins with a crush, it becomes evident that this will always be an unrequited love.  The fantasy you have is murdered, by the fact that they never flirted with you.  I used to think, if I only met this person, they would fall head over heels in love with me and entranced by my charm.  But that never did occur.   Hence crushes on celebs begin to diminish. 

This became our deductive conclusion for all celebrities we may have run ins with, Maroon 5, Phantom Planet, Tony Lucca, John Mayer, and the boys from N Sync.  We were beautiful amazing women, who happened to be ethnic.  If they couldn’t see that, they must only be into white girls.  Disregard the fact that these guys maybe were in committed relationships, or weren’t our stereotypical male whores, or just weren’t into us.  No they just weren’t into ethnic girls.

Shortly after my LA years, the book “He’s just not that into you” came out.  It was meant to contain hilarious dating advice written by a white male.  One topic this book and many other dating books fail to include was the topic of race.  My friends and I commonly used this phrase, but tweaked it “he’s just not into ethnic girls.” Plain and simple.   Similar to the book, if he’s not into you why waste your time feigning over a man that lacks interest, admit defeat, and move on.  Don’t waste your time and heart for a battle that never will be won.  Same is true if “he’s just not into ethnic girls,” don’t try to convert him to be down with the brown.  Wasted energy and heartache.  If he’s not even open to getting your phone number, he will never take you home to meet his WASP family.  Refocus everything on someone who genuinely be into you and the color of your skin.   

I ensured later the men I dated felt appreciation for me and my skin.  There would be days where I felt like an outcast, and the only brown girl around.  One guy in particular who was an artist in Venice, tried to have me fully embrace by ethnicity.  Comparing my skin color to a beautiful tube of paint, one that he would opt to frequently select in painting a canvas.  As women, we want to be muses for artists, not running for political office trying to encourage our voters to vote for brown.  This should be instinctually celebrated versus a hump to overcome.  When selecting our crushes, choose solely those that are already down with the brown. 

Korean Kalbi

For a Christmas present, my friend Jennie had gotten me a gift card for a Korean Spa in Koreatown.   I had been warned about this place.  At the time, I never had a formal massage.  I’ve been given a massage by guys I had dated, but generally it was half ass, and their goal was more to see your naked back than to push out any knots you may be having.   I always thought massages were out of my price range, and for a graduate student, they were.  But I had always heard if you step out of the salons that have licensed massage therapists, and into hole in the wall Asian spas, where no certification is needed, than you could get a better deal.  Same as restaurants.  Good food, okay service, minimal atmosphere, but bang for your buck.  None was better than this salon in Korea town.  Jennie was adamant at how great it was, how effectively rough the massages and body scrubs were, hot and cold pools, saunas,  and how it felt like a true spa at the price for all these services of $70.  Jennie knew that although it sounded attractive, it was still out of my budget and so she purchased a gift card to use at my disposal.   Yet, there was more than one catch that accompanied this proposal. 

The women who were doing the scrubs and massages were not dressed in professional covered attire.  They were right next to the pool and were middle aged Korean women who stood together in their uniform of  white  bras and underwear.  At least they all matched.  They scrubbed just like they talked: loud, fast, hard, and indistinguishable.  Secondly, as a customer, you must be fully naked.  I was comfortable with my body alone, or even with a guy I had been dating for some time.  Yet, being completely nude in front of multitudes of women, creeped me out.  I had previously been in a saunas with friends or female strangers that were topless.  I didn’t have enough confidence in myself at that time to do this, but had experienced the environment.  But I wasn’t a nudist.   Wasn’t there a common nightmare about this type of incident?  Occassionally I had dreams where I was back in high school, walking towards my locker in the crowded hallways, but somehow realized later in the dream I was naked.  I spent the rest of the dream trying to cover myself up with anything I could find.  If I couldn’t be comfortable being naked in my dreams, how would it work in reality?

Jennie had bought me this gift card, meaning she had gone before.  So had some of her friends.  If they could do, so could I.  I was willing to bear witness to see some other ladies birthday suits, shaved and unshaved.  Plus now I was given a gift card, which sparked some initiative.  And so I chose a weekday that I was off to do this, ensuring that I spoke about this to nobody until afterwards.  I didn’t want any friends joining me, and seeing more than I had expected to share.  If I was naked with strangers I could handle this, but to be naked with friends was brining a whole other level of intimacy, which I was not prepared for.

I gave my gift card at the door.  I walked into the sauna changing room, was given a white robe towel, and Asian sandals.  They informed me the one main rule of showering before entering one of the hot or cold pools.  I stuffed all my sacred belongings into a locker, put the bracelet key around my wrist, and headed to the spa area.  Minutes after undressing, I already missed my bra and underwear.  I thought of how much those undergarments actually did cover.  I stepped in the spa, and it smelled like it would be healing. 

Eucalyptus filled my senses.  It reminded me of my great-grandfather’s cough drops that he would carry around in his pockets, and offer as candy to the grandchildren.  The smell of eucalyptus, salompas, tiger balm, and even icy hot felt like it would detox my senses.  Yet, when I walked in this room, my grandfather was not what came to my head.  Everywhere I saw women of all ages and ethnicities, walking around full frontal, unashamed with what they were given.  I must be the only newbie.   This must have been obvious as I kept the robe on for as long as possible.  I took a deep breath in and reminded myself this is normal and natural, imagine the caveman days. As I exhaled, I disrobed and showered in front of everyone. 

 Showers lined up the spa.  In between each sauna or pool you went into, you showered in front of everyone.  After the gritty massage and scrubdown you showered.  This was my first of many cleansings that day.  As I took my shower, my fear of everyone staring at my body parts subsided.  Nobody seemed to look at me.  Perhaps they were all thinking of their own exposed body.  Or maybe they were regulars here.   This wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Although I did not run out of the spa, I tried to minimize my eye contact and conversation, with other customers and staff.  I realized minimal is better, my eyes tried to avert the nakedness around me. I began to accept my body and the normality of it.  I saw super skinny women, voluptuous women, fat women, in between.  All was normal, and I’m sure here in the nude we were briefly all equal.  Nobody could tell if you wore trendy clothes, had a designer purse, or your fashion was stuck in the 90’s.   For a moment we were all women who simultaneously taking a day to relax and be pampered by middle aged Korean women.  

Years later I told a friend about this experience.   She previously lived in LA, and was now visiting again.  She had several days left and wanted to squeeze in as many experiences as possible during this trip.  Upon  hearing about this experience, she was sold.  She felt she needed to go to this same Korean spa, but with her friends, which included me.  I mentioned it, told my crazy story, and now I felt I couldn’t back out of it.  Why should I rob her out of the naked Korean spa experience?  And so we did.  It was pre-job, and I think her intentions were not just to enjoy a relaxing day of being pampered, but to check out potential products.  What size would fit her body type?  What size was attractive but not overly noticeable?  And so we went, and I know our boobs were slightly under scrutiny if they would fit her next purchase.  In the beginning it was uncomfortable, sitting amidst your friends in a spa fully naked.  I had only gone skinny dipping once and this was during the late night hours in the Mediterranean.  I was punished with jellyfish bites, five of them.  Being naked in front of friends felt like a punishment would be luring.  As we sat there completely exposed, the embarrassment began to release, along with the stress.  We all were in the same place naked in front of each other and strangers. 

The familiarity of the scents and middle aged Korean women returned, just like home.  I admit I have not returned since, I’m not that confident yet with the experience.  But there is potential for this to be an annual cathartic cleanse.

witness

The older I get, there is more of an appreciation for the craft of film and television.  I felt growing up, I was taught that media was for pure entertainment.  It was trivial to want to simply please an audience, one should strive for healing the masses and changing them.  Well deserved respect accompanies having the title of "doctor."  Yet along with that there's this expectation to cure others within a short amount of time.  No matter the level of abuse they've experienced at a young age that was replicated throughout their lives, self inflicted wounds as punishment, the aftermath of killing another human being in a war they no longer know what it is about, or the pure lack of desire to want to live another day...we as medical or mental health professionals are looked at to "fix them" on some level.  And I applaud anyone who does this day in and out.

Within the domain of acting or writing, there are still the same complex characters a psychologist may deal with, but the pressure is lifted.  One can simply appreciate how the craft highlights these imperfections.  We simply are witnesses to an individual's life, instead of striving to be agents of change.  There's a search for a deeper understanding of what led them to be here.  There may be a dangling question of what they may do next versus leading to correct their faulty beliefs.  I can imagine how freeing it is to throw oneself into the mind of such a complicated human being, versus scheming ways to fix them.  Although as therapists we know it is the individual that is responsible to change into a self actualized human being, we guide them through targeted questions, reflections, or homework.  As an actor or writer, one simply takes their downfalls, shines light on them, cascading their imperfections.   We are a witness to a moment in time in this person's life, and there is pure beauty in simply watching with a grasping breath on what is to unfold on their time limited path we see.

the two adams

One fall Thursday evening, I accompanied some friends to the Magic Castle.  This place is invite only, and supposedly you can only be invited by other magicians.  An acquaintance of my friend Michelle, was with was currently dating a magician, and by default I went.   Michelle and I had met previously during extra work.  We lived close to each other.  She was a loud boisterous Greek/Syrian girl from Boston, where I was this quiet Midwestern girl who was inexperienced.  She always invited me out on the town when she got invitations.  We were complete opposites but bonded because we were both new to the city and had broken up from long term relationships.  I never really had club or “going out” clothes before this, in Ohio I was only there for several months after I turned 21.  I was a good girl, and never had a fake ID or tried to sneak into bars.  My 21^st birthday was with my family at TGIFridays, where mhy parents treated me to a strawberry daiquiri, pretty sad.

The Ohio bars I went to, which were infrequently, did not include dress attire.  Wear clothes and shoes, be 21, and you are in.  Los Angeles was a different animal.  Not only would you not be allowed to enter with sneakers or jeans, but you must show some skin to get to the front of the line.  There were literal red carpet lines, lists, and doormen you had to flirt with.  Michelle would wear low cut shirts, short skirts, and high heels, and tried to be a mentor to me on how to fake your way to the front.  I thought I was learning  and had purchased tan vinyl pants and extra low tops.  In retrospect, they were autrocious, but nobody told me otherwise. 

Tonight was different and required slightly more class.  We were already on a list and would go to Hollywood and Vine, which was less pretenscious than West Hollywood, at least at that time on a week night.  That night I chose to dress slightly more conservatively.  I didn’t know what the attire at a magician’s gathering called for.  I was extra sweet in a cream turtleneck sweater, short denim skirt, and knee high brown boots.  

When I meet new people and I only know one person in the group I’m with, I feel a bit uncomfortable.  In Los Angeles, I pushed myself to go out because I needed to meet new friends.  Liquid courage always helps, but in Los Angeles it can be costly.  I generally only could afford at most two drinks, which is enough to make me relaxed.  But tonight was special.  Open bar but no food, a pure winning combination.  We sat through a magic show, which I believe this person we came with performed in.  It was nothing spectacular, probably those same things you see when entertained by an audience warm up guy.  But the drinks mixed with a magic show made for a blurry surreal experience.  In retrospect, I think a spell was cast that night.  

We went to a small bar in the Hollywood and Vine area, empty at this hour on a Thursday night.  The guys we were with bought a round of drinks.  I looked at the door at what prospects would walk in.  And a familiar face entered the room.  He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and workout pants.  But I didn’t know him personally, just through television.   It was Adam Sandler.  I was already inebriated that evening, add that to the fact that I seem to have no shame when approaching celebrities.    I walked up to him alone and said, “Your friend stood me up.”  He replied “who?”  I answered back “Norm McDonald”  “Well I’m going to see him tomorrow, we’re playing golf, I’ll yell about it to him then.”   We took a quick photo, as I always had my camera handy.  And he went on his way. 

I recalled that a bassist was djing on Thursdays at the nearby Beauty Bar.  This wasn’t just any bassist, but that of my favorite current band Maroon 5.  This was before they hit it big internationally, and they were still playing monthly shows at the local bars.   I asked my friends to tag along with me to the bar, but they wanted to stay at the low key stranded bar.  I thought I would leave briefly and meet up with them later. I just wanted to make an appearance.

There were ulterior motives, as there was hope that my current crush was there, Adam Levine.  Before he was one of the hottest guys in America, he was simply a guy who rocked it on stage, seemed pre-emptively cocky, and in my mind there was always some chance or hope for just a one night fling.  Having only been in one adult relationship from the age of 17-21, who took up my “good” years of learning how to taunt men, I was naïve.  I reverted back to my flirting ways of my teenage years, asking guys for a ride home.  As a sophomore in high school, I had done this before I could drive to avoid taking the bus home.  I would primarily only ask the hot seniors on the basketball team.  Even though they may live miles away from me, it wouldn’t stop me from asking.  And once it worked, nothing happened with that lead basketball player, but I did land a ride.  So maybe it would work with Adam.  We weren’t  friends, merely aquaintances, or more like I was a Band-Aid.  Immortalized by Almost Famous, I wasn’t officially a groupie as a I didn’t have sex with band members, just appreciated their music and of course looks.  Every time I saw him, I generally talked to him, and was a greeted with a “I recognize that face” nod and hug.  I felt almost in the circle.

  Adam was there looking hipster cool in a plain white tee shirt and a grandpa vintage cream sweater, dancing with his circle of friends.  I tapped on his shoulder and said “hey.”  He responded with a quick exasperated “hey, how are you?”  “Great, I said, but I can’t find my friends and I don’t have a ride home, do you think you could take me home.”  He said, “Where do you live?”  “Glendale.”  The Band Aid knew he lived nearby in Los Feliz, so I hoped there was a chance his gas guzzler black SUV could bring me home.  “Sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”  My heart sunk, “that’s okay.”  I left him so he could continue to dance with his friends, and felt completely humiliated.  I couldn’t believe I did that.  I walked around the bar, looking for a familiar face and immediately felt sick to my stomach.  I went outside the Beauty Bar, and sat on the sidewalk of Cahuenga Boulevard and began to vomit.  All those drinks I pounded down at the Magic Castle were now abracadabra disappeared out of my body to the ground.  Michelle walked up to me, “There you are.  Are you okay?”  She moved my brown hair out of my face and pulled it back so I could purge more.  The doorman looked at me with disgust as if to say, “Amateur.  This is LA, How unladylike are you”  “No, can we go home?” I said quietly to Michelle, embarrassed for my actions that whole entire night.    “Sure honey, I was looking for you.”  She dragged me to the clubs where her friends were at, and I passed out the rest of the way home. The next day I couldn’t believe what had just happened, and couldn’t wait to tell my friends back home who I ran into.  I know I should have kept the story to myself, but my lack of shame with celebrities was too comedic to hold back.

This was one of many nights where I drunkenly embarrassed myself and vomited my way out of a club.  It actually turned into a monthly occasion and did not stop until several years later.  My hedonous lifestyle was just beginning.

so this is why people live in la....

A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.
John Barrymore

inspiration, motivation, and drive: these are three characteristics that LA is filled of, which people brings people to LA and tends to keep us here.   somewhere it's easy to lose this in not getting a part in a film, a connection you made falling through, or maybe not having enough money left over after paying rent.

yet, it's what keeps people in cities.  the hope of wanting more, the opportunities available, and the proof around you that people have achieved this.  i had heard once that silicon valley was strategically chosen for similar reasons, it was beautiful, close to stamford, young energy is around and there's this hunger to live in the million dollar homes around you and have that lifestyle.  yet the youth do not yet have the money to afford it so they work tirelessly in the hopes of achieving it.  people who wanted to be married and settled moved to the outskirts and suburbs, but in doing so they left behind some of that drive for more and harnessed that to their new families. it's easy to be discouraged after sometime and actually finally attain the house with a picket fence hours away in a small town.  to stay in cities, there's this possibility you may become jaded, stay poor, never actually make it, and have a feeling that the last ten years of your life were a waste.

but inside there's this glimmer of hope. 

        somewhere, 

            someway,

                 someday

                     it could be you. 

and sometimes that's all we need.  

celebrities are immortalized, and many times unnecessarily for talent they may not actually have.   but they are representations of our aspirations.  people who have been given the chance and succeeded.  once famous they are given the opportunity to cross all genres simultaneously writing, acting, producing, clothing lines, non-profits, international travels, multiple homes, investors, musicians, artists, poets, activists, restauranters, critics. it's perceived they are granted with the midas touch. 

if it happened to them it could happen to you.  

and sometimes that's all we need

to stay

"Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today."-James Dean

learning to linger

“There are three things you need to travel: money, time, and health.  You will rarely have all three at the same time, so you have to go when there are at least two.” –Mark Starchman (friend)

For the longest time I wanted to backpack Europe.   There were various reasons it was not checked off as an achieved goal.  I complained about money, time, lack of friends to go with me.   Yet something miraculous happened.  All three items would simultaneously be present in my life.  The summer I was getting my doctorate I was  25 years old, had time before I started my new job, and had extra loan money to burn.    I taught myself how to travel.

Growing up my family’s vacations used the mini-van as our sole mode of transportation.  Our destination generally was my grandparents’ homes in Pennsylvania and at that time two miraculous trips to the Philippines to visit  more family.  Yet I was going to do something adventurous and teach myself how to travel internationally.  I purchased at least five to ten guidebooks for Europe, including everything from Europe for Dummies to Rick Steve’s Off the Beaten Path series.  I studied the books like I did  books on psychopathlology or Clinical interviewing, reading them intently, writing in the margins, and highlighting important points.

Originally I told all my friends, “I’m going to Europe for three months, who wants to come?”  Many people initially signed on, but few followed through.  In the end, two friends would join me at two different points on my trip.  Crystal, a friend from Los Angeles, agreed to meet up with me in Nice France.  We met up at coffee shops weekly to outline our route, which headed to  Monacao, Florence, Venice, and Rome in two weeks.  While I was with her we could splurge and stay in low end hotels, which complimented my hostel stays that encapsulated the rest of the stay.   We followed a travelers guide for single women, which encouraged us to wear rings on our engagement fingers to steer away unwanted advances.
Shoba, a colleague from grad school, would meet up with me in Cork Ireland and stay in a hostel, as we attended a two week Adlerian psychology conference.

I knew to plan my trip around these travelling companions, with two months to spare to my itinerary 15 countries were squeezed into this allotted time.  Little did I know how little would I get to squeeze into each country following the outline and pace of group travel tours.    I began to realize when I moved so fast, I wasn’t allowed to linger in cafes or with new international people I befriended in hostels.  The experiences I had were richer than any guidebook could place in it’s sidebars.  The learning curve taught me the next summer to slow down and leave some flexibility for my one month European trip, again solo.

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.- John Steinbeck

charlotte's belt

This belt never did fit my waist.  It was a classic 80’s eye catcher fit for the fashion of the Solid Gold dance floor.    Black leather, blinged out with both gold and silver.    My friend Taschka’s mother Charlotte gave it to me one day while visiting their Venice bohemian home.  I accepted the gift graciously, not used to receiving presents from friends’ parents, especially those I just met.  I always thought my waist would get thin enough to fit into this belt, and so I kept it. 

As time passed, I would admire Charlotte’s faith in Taschka’s creativity.  She funded her rent money, designer furniture, but most importantly her dreams of being a fashion designer and photographer. 

 In her 40’s, Charlotte was passionate, strong., and outspoken like her daughter.   We were all shocked when cancer attacked her body, claiming her life within several months of arrival.  I was out of the country and never got to visit her in the hospital or funeral home to say good-bye and thank her for the belt. 

Years later I’ve kept the belt, no longer hoping to fit in it, but to return it to Taschka.  I’ve brought it up in conversation, vowing to return it to her.   She negates saying, “it was my mother’s gift to you.” 

And  so it continues to sit in a box along with my other belts, shining like it’s original owner.   I know it’s still only on loan.  And when the time is right to return it to Taschka, she will see Charlotte’s love and faith smiling back in classy, flashy silver and gold. 

R.I.P.

Whenever people die I have this increased fascination of their life, and some regret I did not pay enough homage before to who they were.  I am drawn to reading about inspirational quotes, difficulties they overcame, and achievements along the way.  For a period they are immortalized, as their souls leave this earth we sing their praises, and that is how it should be for everyone that dies.  I don't know if this is an abnormal reaction to feel connected to those who have passed on.  People sometimes avoid the topic of death because it is too sad to recognize, but we need to embrace death.  In remembering, we celebrate.   There is grief but more of a sense of my soul being touched.  It's easier if I never personally met the individual, I am somewhat disconnected to the pure emotions of loss.  I am left with appreciation for them being on this earth. 


And so when Steve Jobs died yesterday this was repeated.  At first when I heard the news, there was a small sense of shock.  My fiance started the call with, "I have some bad news."  I immediately felt it was someone I knew.  It was sad, but a sense of relief I had not lost a family member.   I was shocked but disconnected.  Yet as the minutes passed, I thought how much my life was impacted by this man.  For the past 5-10 years my life has begun transforming to an apple domain.   Two apple laptops, i pod, and several versions of the i phone.  The way I communicate with the world is through apple products, all started from this one person.  A creation he made in a California garage with his friend 30 years ago.  He was part of a period that made technology and communication tangible and fun for the masses of people.  


Yet in his death what has been moving me is the quotes of how he lived his life.  Bound by his passions, perseverance, and confidence.  


"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything -- all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure -- these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." (Steve Jobs, 2005)

So in losing Steve, I hope we remember how he chose to live each day.


RIP Steve, ,we have been touched and impacted by your visionary genius that changed how we create and dream

inspiration vs. trepidation

going to writers conferences can be like porn for me. full of excitement, fascination, addiction.  i'm drawn to almost any talk around me.  i'm revved up to write and soak in everything from all of my senses.

but also hearing the writers, their processes, and the method can purely shock me.   i begin to question every word that i write and have written, and lose the gusto i just built up. i am inspired to read but no longer write.

i sit in amazement of those who have achieved this path, and realize how accomplished they must feel.

getting your doctorate and an accompanying job, it has it's difficulties.  but it's pretty much guaranteed if you put in the hours, your paycheck will follow, and be expected.

writing and the arts, no matter what your skill, or the years you've put in, it doesn't equate with the payoff.  and that is where my gratitude and appreciation for artists prevail, in the courage to try.

the courage to go for it, regardless of the fact only critique may soon.

that is the heart of a passionate artist vs. a rational normal.

is there a balance?

reminder of goals

i am a goal writer.  ever since i was in high school, i would write my goals in the back of my journals and eventually they came true.  that's how i got my bachelor's degree in 3 years and have my doctorate by the time i was 25.  or even backpacked europe for 3 months.  but sometimes my goals overtake my life, i achieve them, then what? next goal?

"only problem if i wasn't moving forward i felt i was going to explode." -quote from limitless movie

my life has been inundated with certificates i do not use.  and so lately my goals have not been prominent in my journal.

but recently i've been re-inspired.  i'm part of a bi-weekly group that meets to check in on our goals, originally i started on this in hawaii and it transformed to la with another circle of friends.  yet even then how many vision boards can you do?

i start to wonder the difference between to dos and actually goals.  my 40 hr week job which is not my passion consumes my life and energy, overshadowing my goals.  i realize i sometimes put off goals due to money or time, when in reality it is me who is the procrastinator.

this became apparent the other day when looking up a training for my yoga certificate, which i've been exploring for years. but it's too expensive, when do i want to put in that weekend time?  now i have a job on weekends.  but i applied for a scholarship, and that was all i needed.  i don't know if i will receive that scholarship, but will i continue to put off a goal b/c 50% of my tuition won't be covered? my body is not getting any younger.

one more daily to do but necessary goal. taking that 30 minute lunch break outside of your office and outside in the sun. do so today!

revitalizing social media

i vacillate between a love and hate of blogging/updating/journaling and the abyss of no facebook updates. new vow to maintain my presence online, even if only for myself as a forum to write. the act of writing could be what julia cameron terms as "morning pages" in the artist way.  three pages of free flow writing daily.  i try to mark via this blog my 40 days of being a tourist, 30 days of bikram, or my 10 day master cleanse.  but what about every other day that is not a themed countdown?  every other day is just as important even if not grouped together as something.

back in la, new job, new life mixed with my old friends.   transforming to a newer life ahead of me.  getting married several months to go.  what an interesting path of being engaged for almost 3 years has been.  more time in an engagement than some spend in marriages.  cold feet has been processed in this 3 years. and now i am just ready!!!

if i did do a countdown now, to 12/11/11

Last day of the master cleanse

It's my last day finally of this master cleanse, I can't stand to drink this lemon/maple syrup/cayenne pepper mix anymore.  The past several days i definitely have not been drinking the necessary amounts, and after exercisng my body feels weak.  This morning i awoke to a nightmare. I had some dental surgery, and the only way for my insurance to pay for it was for me to have my mouth wired shut for an additional two weeks.  They had already wired it shut before i could give the approval.  I tried to explain i could not go another two weeks without eating, that would be a month without food! definitely i am ready to get off the cleanse. i awoke this morning and realized my phone was not charged and my dog had woken me up at 530 am. too late to do the salt water flush, and last night no herbal tea laxative.  slightly frustrated but not chancing it this morning. day not starting off the greatest till i realized it was may 19th, interesting how a memorable day like that can turn your bad day around.

16 years ago may 19th was this termed friendship day with my group the lucky 7, where we were rebellious, fun, filled with laughter, crushes, and hope.  7 girls in one car, teepeeing crushes houses with toilet paper, rotten apples, signs. and getting caught!

mc day 6

60% completion and finishing the weekend out. on average  i have lost 1 lb. a day. hit a slight road block today. one thing i admit, i slightly cheated but only with hard candy/jellybeans, which is generally around the salt water flush time. it's the only way i can get through this. today, minimal of the lemonade mix, blah. i prefer water, but still not too much hunger. i realize i am an emotional eater. was reading body for life by bob greene and watching him on oprah, i do not want to admit that. eat to make me feel better. treat myself with a small piece of candy when i walk the dogs, have a stressful client, or am exhausted.  and now no food (mostly). with four more days left and them being work days, i know i can do this!

day 4 going strong

4th day of the cleanse. last night had major back pain, lingering this morning.  i have read that when doing the cleanse old wounds arise to further heal. when was this back pain from?  hunger still minimal, more of the social aspect. wondering how the weekend will go, trying to convince the chef fiance to do the cleanse with me to minimize food temptation. i like to think of completing each day as percentages, today 40% completed.  the hardest part is actually the morning, with the salt water flush and excretion. only 6 more of those to go!

day 3 of the cleanse

day 2 mc was horrible. woke up with a headache at 4:00 am that lasted the whole day. everytime i bent down during the day, the pain would exacerbate.  i needed to read people's experiences on the message board.  i was reminded the first two days are the worst, and headaches are signs of toxins leaving your body. which comforted me. i slept early as i wanted the day to end. my fiance tried to worsen my my mood by asking me to get food for him. i reminded him i am not touching food if i can't eat.  i told a friend today of doing this cleanse, she had done it before and asked why now?  no special reason why now.  i had put off doing it in january as a kick off, procrastinated when a friend did it in november and february. my fiance wanted to do it a couple weeks ago, but i had to wait for my birthday to pass to ensure full celebration. she asked if i was documenting this via writing.  day 2 was not the day to ask, b/c i was full of pain and tiredness.

day 3- i woke up feeling better today.i felt thinner, i looked on the scale and lost three lbs. already!  This was further incentive to stick with the plan of 10 days. yesterday i talked to a friend who has done the cleanse for 40 days, i was in complete shock, i never met someone who conquered this feat. she assured me most of the results were seen within 10 days. ironically hunger has not been much of a problem, more tiredness. but today i feel good.  i actually have the urge to write today and feel invigorated to conquer what's in store.

master cleanse day 1

another journey i am starting on, my annual master cleanse. the last time i did this was january 2010, i skipped the year i was 31! but doing it twice within a year made up for it.  i began this when i lived in hawaii in 2006, and have generally kept it.  each experience is different.  many times i make it all ten days, other times i have to end early.

this time seems different.  i am getting over a cold this weekend, in which i temporarily lost sense of smell and in actuality could not taste either.  therefore the foods i ate, almost no point what i put in my mouth, b/c there was no pure pleasure. perfect time to start.

this time i am doing it to jump start my weight loss, it seems this is the only thing that has worked past several years. but also a purging, a cleansing of built up stuff inside, and a metaphorical conquest. wish me luck

4 day celebration

Tourists are all around me.  I decided to spend my birthday weekend as a tourist.  I took two days off to truly feel I could celebrate my birthday this year, which landed on  a Monday.  I have come to realize the essence of having your birthday off every year.  It truly should be considered a holiday.  

Each of the four days were special.   Each lived with passion, fun, and excitement, as a vacationer would.

One of the days was pure heaven.  A friend of mine Pam had invited myself and Anthony to a BBQ, but this was not any BBQ.  It was held at Waimea Gardens on the North Shore, serving as a thank you luncheon for volunteers of the Kokua Foundation.  Jack Johnson and his wife founded this organization, which focuses on bringing gardening and nutrition to the elementary schools.    I had a feeling Jack would be there, after researching no current world tours existed for that day.  And he was!  Less than 40 people attended, and I felt truly honored to be there, writing name tags on coconut leaves next to Jack Johnson, the world famous singer songwriter.  We sat next to his wife and child, as he did a brief acoustic set.  I thought how thousands of people would want to be in my shoes at that moment, spending massive amounts of money.  But instead this was free and it felt like a backyard BBQ. 

Later in the day as I walked to the waterfall in Waimea, I was surrounded by several butterflies.  Although Anthony and Pam did not join me in my swim under the waterfall, I felt it was something I had to do.  We boogie boarded somewhere along the North Shore later, as turtle passed by.  How quintessential Hawaii could you get?

On my birthday, we continued to embrace the tourist lifestyle, starting the day off at the Dole plantation, completing the largest maze in the world.  I have always wanted to make a stop here, but nobody ever agreed to accompany me.  But since it was my birthday  weekend, I could do anything with company.  We went, the dole was a tourist hub in the middle of nowhere serving soft serve pineapple whipped ice cream, fresh pineapple, and pineapple sundaes.  We satisfied our food cravings after in Haleiwa with a pit stop to Giovanni’s shrimp truck, surprisingly filled with Japanese tourists.  Anthony wondered “how did they find this place?” They research their guides, voted number one food truck.  Eventually we landed in shark’s cove, disregarding the no swim sign, we snorkeled and played on the beach until the clouds moved in.

Tourists truly capture as much into one day as possible.  I tried to do the same with my weekend, allowing one full day of rest.

It culminated the night of my birthday, we decided to do a dinner cruise.  One hour before arrival time, I heard thunder and saw gray clouds.  When I tried to call and cancel, I was denied.  The receptionist said “it’s clear over here.”  So we went, sprinkles of rain fell onto our fancy clothes, and we tried to cancel again.  “We’re still sailing in this weather.”  No turning back as we stepped onto the boat.  Shortly after boarding,  other passengers shifted to the left side of the boat.  Quickly a cloud was gathering.  I couldn’t imagine what they were taking pictures of.  “Look a water sprout!”  I questioned what that was, as I eased myself to the side peaking above and between their heads.  What stood before me truly left my mouth agape, in the near distance was literally a tornado in the water.  We were sailing towards that?  The other travelers were filled with excitement, while my fiancé and I were slightly filled with terror.  No turning back. 

And the trip ensued, and so did the storm.  Incessant thunder, lightning, and rocking.  There was a female passenger in front of us who appeared to be having a panic attack.  A staff member was informed.  Their solution was to give this woman a big group bear hug, and then later booze her up with a tropical cocktail.  She didn’t drink it.  A fellow passenger who was a stranger, tried to convince her “there’s no need to worry, I’m a great swimmer.”

I was surprised the dancers, musicians, and staff kept their composure and balance.  It was hard to walk the boat without appearing you were drunk, but to dance?  The rough weather was briefly acknowledged, the emcee saying “you are a great crowd despite this rainy weather.”  They did not exacerbate our fear or show it on their faces.  They kept the show going. 

As we held onto the boat and focused on staying alive, somehow the other guests enjoyed themselves.   Anthony asked me, “how can these people be having fun?”  I said “They’re on vacation.”  Despite the storm, they still participated in being photo crazy, learning the Tahitian rhythms with their hips, and formed an extensive conga line.  

Before the boat docked, we talked with the cruise director exclaiming our disappointment, especially because we had tried to cancel earlier.  We were rewarded with two free tickets to a future cruise.  Maybe we dance and live more as tourists that day, lightning and thunder free.

I generally try to appreciate and celebrate my birthday, but something about this year felt different.  There was more enjoyment, even though I did not eat one piece of birthday cake, blow out a birthday candle, open many gifts, or throw a big soirée.    I truly tried to take time off guilt free and live in the moment doing activities reserved generally for tourists.  Most of the activities were free, or I had some type of coupon for.  Happiness doesn’t have to be expensive.  Happiness is in the moment.  As I sat on that dinner cruise, I could have cried due to my birthday ending in disaster.   But I knew I had to take this in stride, it would serve as a hilarious SNL parody in my head when recounting this tail to others.  And this boat ride will pass.  I just had four glorious days, this two hour boat ride does not have to taint the rest of my glorious memory. 

birthday weekend

turning 32, something feels different about this year than others.  i am really relishing turning 32.  to celebrate i took 4 days off to turn it into a 4 day celebration....i think simply the process of choosing to celebrate versus dread morphs the whole birthday perspective.   each day has been special doing things i have been putting off and wanting to check off my list..

friday -dim sum and boogie boarding

saturday- hanging out with jack johnson and a mini kokua, swimming in a waterfall, being surrounded by butterflies and later turtles.  boogie boarding in the north shore. and partying it up in waikiki until almost closing time.

sunday- a full day of rest and relaxation, to find out some relief that osama bin laden was finally caught and killed, after searching for 10 years.

today- on tap shopping, dole plantation, boogie board, and relaxing in the north shore

time to celebrate

volunteering

today i am volunteering at the honolulu aids walk. as a photographer.  this is my third time volunteering for them in 2 years but the first time as a photographer, and suggested by me.  in september i volunteered for healing our spirit worldwide, no job assignment, but they saw i had a camera and told me to shoot some pictures.  this made the volunteer experience so much more enjoyable.  i don't know why i never put it together. do something you enjoy and share it with the world.  it took me awhile to put this together with volunteer work, after someone suggested it to me.  yet why is it so hard for me to incorporate this into my working world modality?  "let the beauty you love be what you do. there are 1,000 ways to kneel and kiss the earth."-rumi

Day 40

Day 40

Day 40: Grasping for more

Thursday April 7, 2011

So today is officially my last day of this project.   Just as our last day of vacation nears, I don’t want it to end.    I’ve enjoyed making an effort to think and breathe as a tourist each day, even if the effects do not last for the whole day.  It was almost like a mindfulness meditation, how I could reflect on each day and focus on just one aspect. 

I am sure I could extend this journey for longer, thinking of more ways to fit each day into a tourist mentality.  But if I did, where would the end point be?  Same with a vacation, if it got extended to no end in sight, would it have the same meaning? 

I guess there is a sense of wonder and fun in things being time limited, knowing it is an end point.  Vacation is a paradise mentality, which we visit on average 1-2 weeks a year.  When paradise mentality switches to reality mentality, it does not appear to hold that same freshness, newness, and excitement.

I truly sound like Debbie Downer as I say that.  But there is one caveat…we can have multiple vacations or mini breaks per year.  As Timothy Ferriss suggests in his book the Four Hour work Week, the New Rich shoot for not just one end all retirement but multiple mini retirements.  The importance of keeping things fresh.  He states in his book, “The opposite of love is indifference, the opposite of happiness is- here’s the clincher boredom.” 

We need to look at how to keep our lives fun and free from boredom.  Traveling is an easy escape, but there are multiple ways to do this, many include not even leaving your own hometown.  We need to incorporate newness into our life…learning new languages, workout routines, recipes, philosophies, or maybe even taking a new route in our walks or drives to work.  Our bodies and minds need to be challenged to grow.    

I realized on this journey I have this craving for freshness in how I live my life, this sense of adventure.  But to be on the go growing all the time can be exhausting.  We need to balance this with rest, and the real world.  I know for myself I am still trying to find that right balance in my life, and it’s okay I have not gotten there yet. 

It’s  a journey in and of itself. 

And taking this tourist mentality of applying principles of vacation mode to everyday life has been helpful.  Being a tourist to your own self, to your reality.  Bringing newness, curiosity, and wonder to this moment.  It’s been a challenge, but definitely has brought gratitude into my life.  A wake up call that my time in Hawaii and on this earth is limited.  I can find a lesson in everyday if I truly searched for it.

Life can be a vacation.  We may just need the eyes of a tourist to see it.

Day 39

Day 39: Three Things Needed

Wednesday April 6 2011

A fellow traveler and high school friend once told me, “There are three things you need to travel: money, time, and health.  You will rarely have all 3 at the same time, so when you have 2, you gotta go for it.”  I’ve repeated that advice throughout much of my life, but so many times I have lost sight of the essence of it.

A new potential job offer has arisen, back in Los Angeles.  Although one of our goals is to relocate, and the job consists essentially of no therapy (something I need a break from), I have reservations.  It is the money factor.  I would be making at least 1/3 less.  Can I handle it?  If so, it is for the hope of having a more enjoyable life, less stressful work, a job more fitting with me, but less money.  I am not materialistic or money hungry, but could my ego handle making 1/3 less? 

I highly commend my friend Pam who went from being a pharmaceutical sales rep in San Fran, free new car (which always changed every 6 months), and making over six figures a year.  To going back to school and struggling the past several years to do something she is passionate about…being a physical education teacher.  She took out all her savings to go back to school in Hawaii.  She has a clunker for a car, and the past several year balances 3-5 jobs, but now she has settled into a FT teaching position and admits her happiness and improvement in quality of life.

Today I can’t help but think of that phrase: money, time, and health.  At this current job I definitely have the money.  Ironically I make a lot, but have none leftover.  And although I get much time off, it doesn’t feel enough.  In addition, my health has dissipated the past six months, getting sick practically every other month.  My body feels depleted and burnt out.

The future job first off lacks money.  I know the work would be more align with who I am therefore, I expect my health to be better.  And time, potentially the same or more of it.

How do you make a decision and balance the importance of things?

When tourists finally decide to make a trip, what weighs their decision?  What has weighed yours?

Ironically, money, time, and health are all relative.  Two days, Two weeks, or Two Months.  Vacation vs. time off between jobs.  $1000 vs $10,000.  Credit cards or cash.  And health is another factor.  Aches and pains vs a life threatening disease? Ironically, it may be those diagnosed with fatal diseases that take the jump to travel, because time is fleeting (Watch the Bucket List).

These three factors of money, time, and health rule much of our life.  Where are you abundant?  Where are you lacking?  How will you base your next decision?

day 38

Day 38: Feel Accomplished

Tuesday April 5, 2011

Yesterday I finished reading two books that have been lingering over my head over the past month.  Generally I inundate myself with reading 4-5 books at a time, and by doing this overwhelm myself with no end date in site.  This time I focused, and knocked them off my to do list.

I write this, it is day 38, and I have kept up with this internal goal of living internally as a tourist for 40 days.  Many of my friends and family do not about this inward journey I have been making, or have stopped asking question.  But I do.  This is an accomplishment. 

As a tourist I also have to do lists.  I have a goal to visit a new country each year and visit all 50 states.   Ironically there was a time where I visited more countries than states.  I felt I had to overstretch myself internationally.  In reality, what I needed in my life was to slow down a bit and see what’s around me.  People out there love America, I am lucky enough to live here, why not explore locally? 

So many times when I travel I take things for granted and try to compare myself to other travelers who can take months off at a time, or visited more countries than I have, even lived overseas.  I know I must step back and feel accomplished for what I have just done.  Many places getting a passport is such a strenuous tumultuous process.  In America, almost anyone can get a passport.  Use it.  Savor this trip you are on, and be proud of it, versus simply wanting more.   Feel strength on knowing you are in the process of completing this journey that you had set out to explore. 

day 37

Day 37

Be your own doppleganger

Monday April 4 2011

According to wikepedia, a doppelgänger “is a tangible double of a living person in fiction, folklore, and popular culture that typically represents evil.”  But throughout the past decade many tv shows and films dopplegangers are not always referred to our evil twin, but sometimes simply a completely characterolically opposite external version of you.

Yesterday I met up with a friend, for our weekly goal chats.  Since September, we try to meet on a weekly basis to see where we are at in attaining our goals.  When are goals written, achieved, need to be written, or modified if it no longer is essentially a goal.  We each share about 10-11 individual goals, some of ours align.  It’s a good way to know you have someone to be accountable to for something you actually want to achieve. 

She is aware of this project I am doing, and I showed her my new tattoo.  She mentioned how brave and adventurous I was, and also how much I have been improving the past several weeks.  I had to admit this better part of me is returning.  I cannot say what one thing it is that is bringing the changes…time, going to therapy, friendships, gym, meditation, or living my life as a tourist.   Probably is a combination of all of the above. 

I had been in this funk, where the shadow side of me was emerging.  Why hope? Why dream? Why am I here? And now the excitement is returning, that sense of adventure.  I have noticed that myself, but to have someone external make that connection is validating. 

As a tourist, you can’t help but note what a different person you become.  No work responsibilities.  Time is your choice on what to do with it.   You can linger in the hotel bed or beach, or rush to see all tourist hot spots in a day.  But it is your choice.  There is this appreciation and gratitude of seeing new land, hearing new accents or languages, touching different currencies of money, smelling new aromas, or tasting exotic cuisine.  This adventure has been in the planning stages for potentially months, and now it is ripe for you to taste.

A trip can be whatever you want it to be.   And it’s important to remember that so can our lives.  We have the choice to be this doppelganger at any point in our journey, whether in our destination or at home. 

day 36

Day 36: Comfort in a Church

Sunday April 3, 2011

I was raised Catholic.  For most of my life I attended Catholic schools and went to weekly Sunday mass.  Due to various reasons, this strayed from my life somehow when I left home.  Periods of rejuvenation would return and exploration of different sectors, but never consistently.  My fiancé has a very similar upbringing. I can say for both sides of our families everyone is Catholic.  So to be part of a generation where it isn’t a strength in our lives is new to the family.

I remember in my international travels, I generally tried to visit churches.  The ornate nature may be embellished in the gold and stain glass walls.  Maybe there was simplicity in the chapel, quiet solitude.  I remember visiting a church in Greece that housed a skull.  Churches can reveal so much about the culture, the history, and if attending mass possibly it’s people.

The day prior, Anthony awoke me in the middle of the night (when he is most inspired and up) and told me of his urge to return to attending church.  His reason for straying was the loss of his mom the past year, where mine was partially linked of his and sadly laziness.  We had gone to church three times the past year together, including Christmas.  This time we tried a new church that would hopefully fit with us.  The Newman Center is part of the University of Hawaii, providing Catholic support and services to students and the community.  Oddly the room did not seem to fit the mold of a church, with computer in the back, kitchen and smells of chicken and brownies, stackable chairs.  But people were gathered to worship, the priest stood on a platform, the Catholic protocol ensued. 

I may have my grievances about Catholicism, but realistically if you attend church anywhere you get essentially the same thing.  Even if you don’t understand the language, you basically know what’s coming.  That in and of itself is comforting.   Especially if travelling alone for an extended amount of time.  I know I am biased being raised Catholic, but it seems to hold true for other religions including Christianity, Buddhism, Jewish Tradition, Islam, Hinduism, and Unitarianism.

This gathering place was in no ways ornate, but still felt holy.  There was a beauty in listening to chorus of the audience, accompanied to the violin, piano, clarinet, acoustic, and electrical guitars.   I notice a preference I have with masses targeted towards college students, it seems there is more of an effort to connect the message with real life.  Or the importance of relatability versus pure structure.   

While vacation, whatever your religious beliefs may be, visit a place of worship.  And simply sit and allow yourself to be comforted by some form of tradition, whether one you were raised with or one there is no connection to at all.  Sit and see if you feel familiarity, spirituality, or simply comfort.