The Marvelous Crumb

Follow Joy. Find Belonging.

Tag: Job

For all the other “late bloomers”

Last Sunday, I turned 36. And even though life does not look like what I imagined it would at this age — no house, no babies, no pets, no partner — I’m not ashamed of my years.

There’s a settledness that has arrived, a trusting in the unfolding. And in this resting, I’ve discovered something unexpected.  By unwinding from expectations of how I should be, what I should have and how I should be living, I’m finding a celebration of what is.

It’s like bushwhacking through dense jungle in search of water while standing in a fresh, sparkling pool. If we could just stop looking ahead, we might find relief by simply looking around.

This relief is remembering that life doesn’t have to look like anything other than what it is. I don’t have to be anyone other than who I am. Everything is abundantly enough.

Yes, there is heartbreak.
Yes, there is tragedy.
The planet is dying, our systems are broken. There are bills and deadlines and people who let us down, don’t show up and don’t seem to care.

But this, the glittering pool I’m talking about, is the cool water of restoration. It is the ever-present antidote of enoughness. We lose it in our quest to “measure up” and find in the reclaiming of rooting down.

This aging process, for me, has been a journey of reconnecting to the person I’ve always been. It’s learning to let go of the stories and fear of judgment and instead trusting and cautiously bringing forth an unbridled me-ness.

I believe that this is what the world is asking of us. The house, the children, the robust social presence, the thriving business, the perfect partner — sure, fine — but this is not what we’re living for. Striving for only these results in a world that does not work.

Instead, we’re being asked to show up with our quivering me-ness as the only means for building a world based on authentic connection. It’s about love — for self and planet. I know, there’s that ubiquitous L word, but there’s just no beating around the bush here.

Sometimes this looks like “not knowing.”
Sometimes this looks like being “a late bloomer.”
Sometimes this looks like “not having your shit together.”
Sometimes this looks like not having “grown up.”

If you, like myself, sometimes feel “behind,” and worry that your unconventional existence may prove disastrous down the road, may I offer another possibility? What if you are really a trailblazer? The tip of the wave hurdling through space and in this journey paving the way for a more congruous, more alive way of living? How brave. How revolutionary.

TAP YOUR UNBRIDLED YOU-NESS

What are the practices that bring you to yourself? Make your energetic presence swell? Remind you that you are part of something?

I’m being brought to myself when I slow down. Walk instead of drive. Soak in the late afternoon light. Stop to smell things. Look up. Listen without racing ahead. Collect leaves. Write with an actual pen.

I’m on the right path when I feel a little scared. Before I press publish.  Asking for support. Showing up at an event alone. Facilitating a group. Planning a workshop. Asking for what I’m worth. Making a boundary.

I am free when I let myself have “it.” Dancing in the front row. Wearing a tutu. Glittering myself. Reading my work allowed. Dressing by mood. Saying how I really feel. Savoring something delicious.

My heart is open when I drop my agenda. Observing strangers in moments of tenderness. Talking to my niece. Listening to a beautiful piece of music.

What are these practices for you?

 

In the ocean, I discovered the power of surrender

Sacred Waipio Valley

Sacred Waipio Valley. We hiked down to swim in the water and warm ourselves on the black sand.

I did not know when I booked a trip to Hawaii in December that it would fall in the middle of so many important projects – each like a precious jewel requiring constant attention and regular polishing.

How could I put one down for a frivolous vacation? Yet, I’m not one to go back on my word or undo plans already set into motion, and a part of me knew I was being called to the island for some reason.

I thought this trip was about reclaiming my power.
I thought it was about learning to live with a broken heart.

But things are never what you think they will be.

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Making Magic in the New Year

Buddha buried in magic snow

I’ve missed you, and yet, some time away was exactly what was needed.

At home in Utah it snowed most of Christmas Eve and all of Christmas Day – big, soft flakes that settled on a quiet world. It was just my dad and I this year. We started the morning with meditation, then a leisurely breakfast and gifts in the late afternoon. The pace and stillness of the day was an obvious contrast to every Christmas morning past. I reminisced on the holidays of childhood when my  sisters and I would eagerly bound down the stairs before sunrise to see if “he” had come – evidenced by a consumed glass of milk and always half-eaten cookie. “Santa must be so full of cookies by the time he gets to our house to only eat half,” I would think. Sometimes I’d venture outside to see if I could make out in the snow where his sleigh had landed on our roof. Most always I found the hoof prints of reindeer.

How I miss the confidence I had in magic in my youth.

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For anyone else outside the corporate career lane

Corporate bowling lane

This month I had an intuitive reading.

These happen with regularity in my world. I consider them like bumpers on a bowling lane warning of possible pitfalls along my path. Often after a reading I’m encouraged, inspired, and I feel more grounded. “Yes,” I believe “All of this is leading somewhere. I’m not spinning in vain.”

You see, on many days, because I’m outside the regularity of a 9-to5 gig, I feel like the bowling ball – rolling round and round seemingly going nowhere but sparkling all the way. These readings remind me there’s a much bigger lane beneath me and, low and behold, I’m hurdling down it. Whoa! Even better, the alley is full, and if I listen I can hear pins knocking and balls skidding all around. I’m truly not alone in this crazy game.

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The one thing I’m wishing for this birthday

Birthday Ice Cream

Chicory Pecan and Rose Matcha Marshmallow from my favorite ice cream shop in the world — so far.

 

I’m not one of those gals who keeps her birthday a secret for fear of disclosing her true age. I AM 35!!! And I worked for most of those years.

That’s:
630 birthday cake candles blown
50ish trips to the dentist
4 cavities filled
29,260 hours dreamt
7 favorite books discovered
3 significant loves lost
4 grandparents passed
3 unforgettable meals
5 meditation retreats
4 out-of-country vacations
4 out-of-state moves
2 advanced degrees
Hundreds of articles written
1 career change
1 blog launch
and
Countless tears shed in joy and pain

Whew!

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My unconventional (yet effective) writing process

Writing outside with a cup of tea.

Writing is best done outside with a cup of tea.

When I begin any new writing project, I’m filled with fear

I doubt my capabilities

I question how I arrived in this predicament

What will come out?

Will it be any good?

Do I have anything original to say?

Why couldn’t I just be a numbers person and settle into a cush office job manipulating Excel spreadsheets? But alas …

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Where I’m Headed and How I’ll Get There

When she had hair.

When she had hair.

 

Yesterday I had the pleasure of being introduced.

I sat in front of a small audience while someone read about “my work” intending to capture their attention.

This was not the first time another has set the stage before I addressed a crowd, but it was the first time that “my work” was so unarguably all mine. Dancing, writing, meditating, blogging, this is how I make my way in the world. Some of these activities pay, most do not, but I get by.

Hearing another affirm that my existence is entirely what I’ve made it, felt, for some reason, entirely inconceivable. It was as if my secret desires and solitary aspirations were finally being recognized as actualities. Kelsey Blackwell is a full-time creative. Wait, how did that happen?

Riding this wave of affirmation, I awoke this morning bursting with ideas to make “my work” more fabulous, more important, more lucrative, starting with this blog.

Where to begin? SEO? An actual logo? More categories across the nav bar? And for that matter, what about all the things that need to be done? Why stop with writing projects? Don’t I need to go to the store? Should I throw in a load of laundry …

Naturally, this led to complete overwhelm. I slept in, started the day with a cookie, and went on a walk. Continue reading

Time to fly or fall

I’m on the wing one foot in the air. Will I regret if I’m still up here when I’m 65? Perhaps. But, on my deathbed, I can’t imagine ever saying, I wish I had played it safe.

My body tingles with possibility.

The divine or devastating feels at my fingertips.

Perched on the wing of a plane, pointed peaks below, I’m weighing my options. The wind, the sun, the loud whir of aliveness, it’s all so overwhelmingly fabulous. Perhaps it’s time to leap?

January was my self-given deadline to make a career choice. Left or Right? That is, a salary, benefits, M-F schedule, or freedom, choice, and the uncharted?

For most of 2015, the dreaded question consumed all thought. You know, the one we all toil with at some point during our existence: Why am I here? What is my life’s purpose?

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