The Long Way

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For as many times as I’ve heard the song, Take the Long Way Home by Supertramp over the years, which coincidentally was released in 1979 when I was a mere babe of three, I never actually paid much attention to the lyrics. And while I may never know why this particular song made a very peculiar, out-of-the-blue appearance in my consciousness yesterday, now that I’ve taken a closer look at the lyrics, I’m pretty sure it’s about a heck of a lot more than a guy who’s not so eager to get home to his less-than-loving wife.

Taking the long way is often perceived by the lazy as an inefficient waste of time. To those who suffer from chronic impatience, doing so seems plain silly. And to the faint of heart, taking the long way in anything can be daunting; every single step an unbelievably grueling grind.

But when we come to think of home as less of an actual physical dwelling and more an idealistic place of peace and comfort within ourselves—a way of living and loving from the heart, if you will—perhaps taking the long way actually does have its advantages.

It certainly calls to mind some important questions. For example: What would you do if you had more time? And, moreover, if all those things you want to do are really so important to you, why aren’t you doing them in the time you have right now?

The funny thing about time, though, is the realization that it has less control over our lives than most of us would care to admit. The truth of the matter is time becomes an easy target, a willing scapegoat of sorts, when it gets away from us, or when things don’t work out the way we plan. I am certainly not immune to this flimsy belief system, having fallen prey to its clutches on more than one occasion.

After only recently making the switch to seeing my life as a long game, I’m still trying to shake this belief system all the way loose and out of my consciousness. Because I’m no longer buying into the need to beat the clock or believing the perception that I’m running out of time.

And that’s why this year I am celebrating a different type of birthday than I have in the past; one that more accurately reflects the person I’m becoming with each twist and turn on this long and winding road. This year, my birthday is not about hoopla. There will be no confetti or balloons, and most likely there will be no cake. I am not looking for fanfare, because I’ve come to the point where this day is about much more than being showered with attention and gifts. And I’m perfectly fine with that. In fact, it is exactly the way I want it.

Instead, this year I am choosing to celebrate the depth of the person I continue to become, the complexity of my journey, and the bittersweet richness of doing this life my way.

Today, I will refrain from spending time on Facebook or Instagram, instead setting my phone to airplane mode. I will use my time intentionally and wisely. I may choose to do some writing or complete an art journal spread. I will almost certainly spend time outside, walking, enjoying the opportunity to breathe in the fresh air, and simply being in the calming presence of the trees. I may indulge myself in a handcrafted latte, some luxurious chocolate, and a gourmet lunch prepared just for me. I will, no doubt, sit in silence, listening to the wisdom of my heart. And I may just go ahead and dream up a list of 42 random acts of kindness to be completed over the course of my 42nd year on planet earth.

Continuing in this spirit of giving generously, I also commit to doing something meaningful for me: making myself a priority and giving myself the gift of time, not just today, but for the next 42 consecutive days:

  • 10 minutes of meditation
  • 20 minutes of writing
  • 30 minutes of movement/yoga/exercise

The idea and meaning behind this gift to myself is two-fold:

  • Writing down these intentions (and declaring them out loud for all the world to hear) is a major maneuver in holding myself accountable; and
  • Doing these things for 40 days in a row will set me well on the path to establishing these priorities as part of a nourishing daily ritual for myself. (I’m basically just sweetening the pot by adding on a bonus two days!)

In the place where I stand now, I’d like to think I’ve become at least a little wiser over the past 42 years. (If my grey hair is any indication, I should be very smart. You can ask my stylist. lol) But I’ve said it before and I’m not afraid to say it again, right here and now: I can be a slow learner. And so I continue to learn my lessons as I take the long way on my journey through life, all with the intention of finding my own unique way of living and loving from the heart.

One such lesson I’ve needed to receive on more than one occasion is about allowing what comes, to come; what stays, to stay; and to simply let go of the rest. And although I suspect I’ll always crave meaningful connections with my fellow humans, I’ve come to see the futility in grasping and clinging to people and circumstances that were perhaps never meant for me in the first place. And of course I continue to see the tremendous benefit of practicing gratitude on the daily. I am endlessly grateful for every single person and situation that has come my way, realizing they each held an important place in my world, whether in my life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

So, as I round the corner to 42 Street, it feels like I’m inching ever closer to finding my ‘heart home’ and tapping into a more permanent place of peace within myself. And as I do, it occurs to me that maybe birthdays are merely time and route markers on our journey. And then I wonder if maybe we’re all just taking the long way home?

After all, maybe it’s the long way—with all of its peaks and valleys, detours and dead ends, speed bumps and plot twists—that makes this life worthwhile.

xo

Take the Long Way Home
Supertramp

So you think you’re a Romeo
Playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
‘Cause you’re the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if you’re feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel you’re part of the scenery
All the greenery is comin’ down, boy
And then your wife seems to think you’re part of the furniture
Oh, it’s peculiar, she used to be so nice
When lonely days turn to lonely nights
You take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when you’re up on the stage, it’s so unbelievable,
Oh unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think you’re losing your sanity,
Oh, calamity, is there no way out, oh yeah
Ooh, take it, take it out
Take it, take it out
Oh yeah
Does it feel that your life’s become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy
When you look through the years and see what you could have been
Oh, what you might have been,
If you’d had more time
So, when the day comes to settle down,
Who’s to blame if you’re not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home
Took the long way home
You took the long way home
You took the long way home, so long
You took the long way home
You took the long way home, uh yeah
You took the long way home
Long way home
Long way home
Long way home
Long way home
Long way home
Long way home
Songwriters: Richard Davies / Roger Hodgson
Take the Long Way Home lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

My Satya: To Be Among the Young at Heart

Satya is the Sanskrit word for thruthfulness. Truth is a commodity I value highly, probably because I’m a terrible liar. That’s why, as much as possible, I try to live by The Four Agreements, and make a point of being impeccable with my word.

But lately when thinking of satya or truth, I’ve been contemplating what “my truth” is. Although I’ve been pondering the subject for quite some time, along with studying Patanjali’s Eightfold Path of Yoga everything suddenly became so clear when I came across the following image. I’d say it was definitely a sign!

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Yup, that’s right. I just don’t want to grow up.

I’m not referring to denying reality or shirking my grown-up responsibilities. I’m talking about reveling in simplicity and finding solace by heeding the unexpected wisdom of childlike innocence.

In sharp contrast to the prevailing theme in our society that insists children should grow up as quickly as possibly, I believe there’s both magic and freedom to be found in approaching life more like I did when I was young.

Waking from a beautiful slumber to dream and scheme, in the way one can only before being told it’s too risky, crazy, or too far out of reach.

Greeting the enormous possibility of each new day with unbridled curiosity and sparkling wide-eyed wonder.

Playing outside from sunup to sundown, drinking in the fresh air and digging up the earth.

Riding bikes and climbing trees and splashing in puddles after heavy rain.

Discovering the joy in everything—from rocks and insects to cloud formations and hoola hoops.

Relying on nothing more than sheer intuition and my five senses to explore the world and find my path through it.

Trusting that every day brings with it the promise of a new adventure.

Believing I can go anywhere, do anything, or be anyone I want to be.

Knowing that love, creativity, and imagination are the very best fuel for living an inspired and truly rewarding life.

These are the beautiful truths my heart knew when I was created. And these are the truths I must keep coming home to, especially when my heart feels broken and my spirit shattered.

Forgetting, even if just for a moment, all my hurt and invisible wounds, this is when I remember the truth of who I am. It is in these moments that my soul’s light shines forth through my smile for all to see, just like when I was young. This is how my heart breaks free of its cage, to be alive in this moment, for this moment is all there is.

I don’t even know what to say about all those years I poured so much energy into wishing I was older and wiser, because now I understand I no longer want to grow up. And in case I haven’t been clear, it’s not even remotely an age thing.

It has taken me some time, but it seems I’ve finally figured out what it is I want most. My truth, my satya, my intention is to allow my spirit to grow younger, and to remain for the rest of my days among the young at heart.

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I’m the cutie on the left, pictured here with my sister, Michelle. Circa 1980

Young at Heart
by Frank Sinatra

Fairy tales can come true
It can happen to you if you’re young at heart (young at heart)
For it’s hard, you will find
To be narrow of mind if you’re young at heart (young at heart)

You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on it’s way

Don’t you know that it’s worth
Every treasure on earth to be young at heart (young at heart)
For as rich as you are
It’s much better by far to be young at heart (young at heart)

And if you should survive to a hundred and five
Look at all you’ll derive out of bein’ alive
And here is the best part, you have a head start
If you are among the very young at heart