The Ex Games

In my relationships prior to this year I survived on an air of mystery. I could be brutally honest in matters pertaining to the heart when it was recorded in writing but my verbal strategy was to remain silent until a bomb needed dropping. I don’t know if this line of attack actually worked because it led me to something beautiful or if I just learned to find beauty in the most unexpected places. 

My move to Colorado gave me a luxurious opportunity to move towards a no bullshit kind of dating. If you choose to stand in my arena, our goal is to engage in peaceful combat with the sole intention of enjoying each other. The second you lose that, it’s time to send in the next victim. This new lifestyle put me entirely in control which worked out beautifully until I was surprise attacked by a game changer. My rules have vanished in mid-air and I’m left without a weapon in sight. I’m shining at the challenge and the 20 year old version of me would probably gag at the romance I’m capable of these days. 

As a silent assassin of a girlfriend in my past, I was able to maintain communication (or at least encounters not involving lethal weapons) with most of my ghosts of boyfriends past. There is one exception to this scenario and at the peachy age of 26, I’m now starting to question if he is the mastermind behind it all. 

That brings me to the ex games of 2013. 

With the omission of those that are born with the commitment bone, the majority of relationships from elementary to enlightenment have a built in back up plan. Most conveniently, this back up plan generally consists of an ex. I’m not pointing fingers here. Highschool I had a bench of “best guy friends.” These 2^nd line heart throbs fulfilled me emotionally where I was lacking elsewhere (Insert shameful head drop). When I was cheated on in college, I called my previous boyfriend bawling and apologizing (insert shudder). When we date but are unsure, we send random notes, we stalk, we flirt; we entertain ideas. 

I’ve always envisioned a partner that would hold my back-up plans in his fist until they turned to sand; he would throw my insecurities to the wind and we would dive in. Reality check. The point of change exists when a back-up plan is no longer worth your time because you are willing to compromise or completely banish any thought of not finding fulfillment where you stand. It’s the most heart breaking, thrilling aspect of a love life that I have encountered to this day. Although I may have come close in the past, I’m taking one this challenge on step at a time. I will have one, sole misty little plan and if it doesn’t  work out, I will have one hell of an adventure; just as I have in my past. Can you really say that you haven’t enjoyed every moment of fleeting love lessons from your past? Even the unbearable hurt has led you here and even an unknown path is a wonderful place to be. 

No one wins the ex games. The finest way to finalize in your category is to share only your genuine joy for your past. Wish only happiness. Send only positive intentions. Dive into your new life with the understanding that the past will eventually move on. If you step into a new role with a veil of fear over your new bond, then instead of a long distance runner, become a sprinter. Sprint your way to the core of where you find YOURSELF and then sprint your way back to the one person that will change you and shape you into the best version of yourself. 

If sprinting fails, then sit down with your friendly gurus and listen. Actually listen. Sierrah would say, “Maybe this will end in catastrophe…or maybe you will love the shit out of him/her for as long as you can.”

Lessons from life; Grandpa Paul

Death to me has been a scarcity and a factor of spontaneity in my life thus far. Or maybe it has been for all of us. What I’m trying to say is, with the exception of my stunning great grandmother who reminded us that she was ready and lived a gorgeous amount of years, every person I have lost came as a shock. When dealing with shock and a lifelong hesitation about religion, you must find serenity in another form. 

In this realm, nature has never failed me. When we lost Lauren in her adolescence and I didn’t understand, I walked and walked until I felt her in the sunshine. When Mallory made a decision that took her from this Earth I took in the reflections of the water until I decided to keep living for her. Today as I collapsed beside my car, Fall leaves started falling at a rapid pace and circling and cycloning me until I looked up and saw the perfect opening in the clouds above Chautauqua mountain. Today I lost my grandfather. My first grandparent to lose and I know that he will continue to exist in the beauty of this world. 

I always thought that the lucky ones were aware when the end is near, when it’s time to say goodbye. But are we not all given this gift? From the moment we enter this Earth, should we live as if we are bidding farewell? My Grandpa Paul (or Pa Paul as Ethan coined and my Grandpa shined his smirk of approval) was hands down the smartest man I have ever known. He was medically, musically and intellectually sound and as a child I remember debating whether to find this terrifying or incredibly fascinating. From my earliest memory, I remember my Grandpa Paul speaking to me as if I were an intellect myself. I used to choose my phrases wisely to try to impress this man and luckily for me I was always encouraged by his awe in my own abilities. Despite any darkness that ever surrounded his life, I remember my Grandpa as a piano playing, towering comic that could converse for hours and loved to show me secrets from his past lives. I’m so glad to have known these insights. 

I was never able to speak to my Grandpa about my current career choice, but I would have loved to hear his thoughts on yoga’s representation of starting over. We begin every class as a child and we end every class in death, an ending, a re-birth. We thank the individuals in the room for being our teachers. We leave our mats and we come back again. How do we explain then, when a journey actually comes to an end? How do we find peace with final, final savasana? The answer is already there. We seek the teacher in our loss. My Grandpa will live through the lessons that he taught my mother and my aunts and uncle. He will live through the lessons that were passed down to me. He will live through the lessons that I continue to share. 

This entry is not about seeking sympathy or begging hungry readers to speak love more often. This entry is celebration of a life and lesson learned. It’s remembering to live on the way my Grandpa lived. Embrace music and create impactful sounds. Laugh loudly at the Lake. Ask questions and never lose your intellect. Share what you have. Find a way to show your oldest daughter that you care, even during your last few breaths. 

Rest in the grandest of peace, Pa Paul. 11.13.13

Can a yogi date a "non-yogi?"

Alec and I had an impactful conversation a few weeks ago questioning if we could become romantically involved with someone that was not a modern day “yogi.” My immediate answer was “yes!” but we took the time to analyze and discuss anyways because…well, we’re yogis.

The biggest personal changes I’ve seen happens in yoga teacher training. The journey is different for every single person but most of us had a moment of absolute breakdown. For me, it was why am I living in a cold climate…my heart is FROZEN, why have I fought with my family, what do I want with this career and why, dear Shiva why, do I have an impossible, magnetic attraction to bad boys and daredevils!? I left teacher training with many more questions, but the comfort that happiness is not location bound, family can be mended and awakened, careers are not you…they are just what you do, until you find one you truly love and most importantly bad boys and daredevils are simply finding yoga…off the mat (sometimes really, really high in the air).

So, can a yogi date a “non-yogi?” We all remember the revelations that occurred on our mats. The answers that were found. The strength that was built. The internal awakening that we crave to keep our wheels turning. However, weren’t there little pieces of yoga that you knew very well before that manduka emblem became your home plate? I used to yearn for the ocean so badly that I thought I might suffocate if I didn’t sit on my beach towel next to my clean slate at least once per year. And when I made it there I would always bolt down into that water so fast you would think I was on fire. I was finding yoga there. The ocean was a place to me that nothing else mattered and I could be fully present and joyful.

It happened in winter too. Once I turned to my gorgeous yogi friend, Ang, on a chair lift and noticed that we were breathing together and smiling together and I said, “Ang! We’re doing yoga right now.” She totally got it which is remarkable because the other daredevils were moving too quickly to understand that day.

I won’t deny that there is a power in savasana when you are blissing out next to someone you are starting to adore (or maybe you already dove in full force) and you can feel their hand inching towards yours. Or seeing your boyfriend of 5+ years trying something new to support you when you were fully convinced he was good at everything. Or seeing my favorite little boy smile creep across Corey’s face during Angie’s most kick ass sculpt class. It’s an amazing thing to share and if you have it, go to the moon together yogi lovers.

If you don’t have it…then respect where your crush, significant other or life partner finds their yoga. When I looked back at Dain on the top of Vail mountain and screamed out of complete “right now” excitement and all he said was, “I know!” We were doing yoga. My little, wise girl Anna says that she loves the fact that yoga is hers alone. Put Alex behind the wheel of a fast car and he’s doing yoga. It’s climbing rocks, it’s my brother scoring in a hockey game, it’s riding a wave, it’s hiking our mountains, it’s going fast, it’s what we strive to do every time we come to our mats…live.

Another false summit and that's perfect.

I have been thanked by powerful, gorgeous women that somehow resonate with my words on this blog. Some of these women have seen me so incredibly stripped down that I couldn’t even move from the foot of someone’s hospital bed. Or I sat in their living room reading aloud a break up letter and clinging to words that no longer belonged to me. Or I put on a power house face all day long and ran out of a yoga class to hug my best friend and she just knows.

All of my moments of desperation have an anxiety ridden thread in common and that is that I lost sight of my freedom. I promised myself before I even hit adolescence that I would never, ever hold on to someone so tight that their wings stopped functioning properly. So why, when I was 17 did I fear losing him to a higher power for years and years after. And why, when I was 21, did I squeeze his hand tight all the way to the Southernmost point until I was convinced that we could just marinate in the sand until we could both say forever. And why, when I’m 26, and I still learning to let go and give in at the same time.

Ahhhh it’s because we must continue to learn. When I nearly lost my first passionate, compulsive, musically inclined blue eyed boy in a crash, Mom said, “Chelsea, you can give him everything right now, but he does not owe you.” There is not a single person that we choose to love that owes us. When we learn to embrace the distance, when we learn to say run along my dear because you have amazing things to get done, when we come together and laugh over stories of our independent feats and realize there is no one else we would rather tell these stories too…that is when we really have it right.

Jealousy is the most ghastly feeling in the world and I haven’t felt it powerfully in years. Not because I stopped comparing or learned to trust completely…because I believe in my path and I believe in take it or leave it. I think 26 is a breaking point. I think 26 is about telling the truth and owning that truth and holding hands with someone that thinks that truth, although sometimes messy, is something that they’d be open to working with. It’s not about protecting your heart anymore…it’s about waiting for the right time to jump.

As Amy H would say, “crying is strength…until it’s not.” I’ll jump for that.

Setting Sail on 26 Years...

I did some research tonight on birthday celebrations. Ok, I googled “inventor of birthday celebrations.” Hey, I thought the person could use some kudos! Needless to say, I found the below:

“In History, Birthday celebrations started with Pharaoh and was only mentioned in connection with Royalty. In pagan cultures, people feared evil spirits - especially on their birthdays. It was a common belief that evil spirits were more dangerous to a person when he or she experienced a change in their daily life, such as turning a year older. As a result, birthdays were merry occasions celebrated with family and friends, who surrounded the person of honor with laughter and joy in order to protect them from evil. Instead of gifts, most guests brought positive thoughts and happy wishes for the upcoming year. However, if well-wishers did bring gifts, it was considered an especially good influence for the birthday person.”

Cool. Guests brought positive thoughts and happy wishes. I’d like to reflect a moment on what birthdays also allow us to do. Birthdays allow us to reflect on a previous year. My previous year included change, heartbreak, laughter, cheer, quitting, starting, loving, loathing, lusting and taking a swan dive into the unknown to follow bliss. Birthdays allow us to look forward. What does 26 MEAN. What should I accomplish in the next 365 days? I need to pay a visit to the ocean, I need to climb another mountain, I need to master a black diamond, I need to rock it at work, I need to SLOWWWW DOWWWNNN…birthdays allow us to reflect on the present moment. Ah hah. We’ve come to my point.

The brilliance of the birthday celebration is that we gather “with laughter and joy” to share “positive thoughts and happy wishes” TODAY. What if we spent every moment of the next year as if it were our birthday because every day we have the chance to be new? Every day we have the chance to celebrate the pure existence of those around us. If last year we cried enough tears to sail away then build your best damn sailboat and go. Every day is a new port.

Happy Birthday to me. And Happy Birthday to You.

Chelsea the Grouch and Other Managerial Lessons

I remember sitting at my desk in corporate America and thinking, “I refuse to let them convince me that my emotional investment in this business is a flaw.” In the way many children learn lessons later in life, I now know they were right.

I recently took a leadership workshop that preached that we need to remove our investment in other people’s space. What is your business vs. “their” business. As an analyst and even more so as a manager, this is my biggest challenge. A psychologist once asked me why I thought it was a defect that I felt more deeply. Well, it’s partially a defect because it’s not my business how many people bought turkey roasters in 2012. It’s not my business as a manager to make decisions for the shining stars that I manage or may eventually manage. It’s not my space as a friend to force judgments or opinions but simply to hold my life partner’s spaces. I’m starting to understand this now.

My mother is an amazing leader professionally, but the relationship I respect the most that she managed is her relationship with me. I used to get incredibly frustrated with my mom for not offering me her opinions on grandiose plans of mine. Shudder…flashback to 15-24 year old Chelsea… “Why the hell won’t you tell me what to do?!?!” Her response? “because I know you will make the right decision. You always do.” How did she KNOW? She didn’t…but she thrives off the fact that I would learn from my own decisions and not her own opinion or what she wanted. The best gift my mother gave me was to let me follow my own path and to hold that path in a loving and supportive manner. These are the qualities of a true leader. Thanks for not micro-managing, mama.

As the workforce manager that actually pays the bills, my mom says, “I grow leaders. If this is what you aspire to be, then I will help you get there.” In my current career I have the beautiful, yellow brick road opportunity to bring this motto to life. The teachers and students that surround me all have ambitious goals. They will find their path without my opinions, judgments or beliefs. My consistent goal as a manager is to hold their space in silence, make tough umbrella decisions when needed and if this is where you aspire to be, then I will help you get there.

 

 

The 14,000 Vertical Ft Lesson Plan

It seems to me that mid-twenties are all about seeking destinations. I spent a week this summer back in Minnesota with tight knit friends that transformed within my 7 month absence to engaged couples, parents, and co-habitants. Walking through my old office skyways, I was consumed with anxiety over my own personal deadlines. Oh dear, I ran off to the mountains and now I’LL NEVER FIND LOVE OR MONEY OR MAKE FRIENDS OR GIVE BIRTH. Don’t smirk females…you’ve been there.

I came home and decided to get over my fear of commitment, kick ass and take names. That’s when my anxiety dove back in like a significant other that tore apart your insides who randomly shows up at the coffee shop down the street when all you were looking for was an afternoon caffeine kick. Naturally, I decided to take my anxiety as high as I could which happened to be 14,200 feet.

Readers, my journey started at 5:30am with two new friends and one old. We began hiking for two hours on the wrong mountain. Hah, isn’t adventure a bitch. But naturally, it wouldn’t be adventure if it was expected.  Ok, so we are now at 7:30am and we are hiking up the planned 14er and I’m feeling good, ready, ambitious.  Halfway up and my lungs are gasping, glutes feel acidic and knee caps are flipping me off. I’m mumbling profanities and working on motivational quotes when most of our water runs out. That’s when the nausea kicked in and the Clif bar I’m supposed to eat tastes like dog food that has been dried in the Arizona sun for weeks. I sit down and look around. Damn, I’d been moving so fast to one goal I almost forgot to look at the beautiful journey to the top. Needless to say, we made it up and I was so thirsty with altitude sickness that I barely remember the summit.

Okay, what have we here? This blog often revolves around love and love, my dears, is not hard. Relationships are hard. The journey is hard. But love, does not need a definition and fortunate for us, love is with you every step of the way. If you are still stuck hiking for two hours before you even reach your mountain then holy shit your opportunities are endless. If you have just reached your mountain and you’re on top of the world, beautiful!, don’t forget to keep looking around. If you’re halfway up then start to notice the magic that surrounds you and how you have a choice to keep moving. Sometimes we reach the summit and it’s not what we planned. That’s when you start to chip away at the debris that began to surround your heart and slowly make your way down. Another mountain is waiting and I bet it will be one hell of a journey.

 

 

$300 to Happiness

Mom says she never had to remind me to do my homework. With the exception of the groceries that I’m still stealing from my parents’ refrigerator, I paid my way through college entertainment, room and board and will be co-paying for that damn education for the next 10 years. I was offered my first salaried job amidst an economic downfall within weeks of graduating and turned down others. Within three years, I moved my way up the economic ranks to a salary that put in a base cushion to my 401K, allowed me to live in a downtown Minneapolis “penthouse,” shop comfortably and travel often. Two years after that I quit that job and moved to Colorado. 

Today I’m 2 months away from turning 26 and I have $300 to last me 2 weeks. My last paragraph was much less about bragging and much more about my plea to happiness.  I used to depress often about stress, relationships, career and how badly I wanted my toes to touch the sand. Today I cry because my yoga teacher tells us to picture the person we love the most, or I hear the most beautiful Hanuman chanting I’ve ever experienced or I can’t decide if I should spend that $300 on paddleboard sessions or camping in Horsetooth. 

I’m not writing this blog to seek attention or glamorize my monetary "shame." Since moving to Boulder, I’m holding hands with a cosmic community of people that don’t need to purchase a new pair of shoes for Friday night, that have savings accounts for adventure and that also debate the definition of success. I know as a 100% confident fact that a fat bank account is not the key to bliss- so how do we overcome these days when your headphones get stuck in your backpack zipper and suddenly you are hyperventilating in emotion. 

I’m lucky to have $300. Why not cut this in half and give it to someone else? Why not take this time to decide what I really need to do with this life before that $300 goes to a free spirited toddler  of mine or a significant other that lives on passion. Maybe we should all spend two weeks living like we only have $300. Consider the relationship you would build with the outdoors and your neighbors. These next two weeks, I’m going to live on sunshine, love, Minnesota, Chatauqua mountains, yoga, Summer Solstice, Mom and David’s dinners and life. That shit don’t cost a thing. 

To become a faster runner, run faster. To progress in yoga, do more yoga. To find happiness, try being happy.

She Dates with her Bags Packed

The year I turned 18, this spectacular boy told me he wanted to be with me forever. I made him pull over the car so I could walk home. The first time I heard “I love you” from a boy was in a movie theatre. I kindly turned to him, batted my eyelashes and said, “fuck you.”

You know girls like me. Maybe you’ve fallen for one. She’s hard to understand because she dove into your life, social circle and bed like she belonged there...but she never untied her imaginary Nikes. A relationship with her is easy at times and disastrous at others, but the secret smiles over her glass from across the bar made every manic moment worth it.

This girl dates with her bags packed. These qualities can actually attribute to an exceptionally healthy relationship; sometimes she sparks like a struck match, sometimes she grabs her keys and stews on her own for a few days…you need this space too. Sometimes she doesn’t speak for an uncomfortable period of time and you are forced to fill the space with chaotic words only to stop her from thinking too deeply. Her responses are cryptic but she still smirks and kisses you on the lips. You need time for contemplation too.   

Don’t let my ambivalence turn you off, readers. I don’t know how long it will take for me to drop my suitcase on someone else’s floor. What I do know is how the scenery changes with the right person. Love can make a wave chaser crave the winter. Love can turn the mountains into a haven for absolute bliss. Love can take you anywhere, change your plans, stop you in your tracks and suddenly those tracks have led you to the exact place you needed to be.

The bottom line is, I still think it’s worth it to wait. I don’t believe in deceit of another being while you silently wait for your world to make sense. If you’re still seeking my dears, then instead of noticing all the road blocks, start to notice the world that sits before you. Let someone fit into that world and watch as your scenery starts to change. In that moment, you’ll look down and notice that somewhere along the way you’ve kicked off your shoes and your suitcase has been so worn down that the contents have been strewn all over the road. He’ll laugh at you and say, “shall we?”

A toast to the flawed and ferocious

Girls, this is not a nod to Dove commercials (although I think the concept is pretty sweet). This is not permission to eat an entire pizza because you feel like it (but, put a Punch pizza in front of me and I’m going Jungle Jane on that flat bread). This is a discussion and suggestion for keeping your chin sky high, even in a room full of perceived perfection.

I know this beautiful red haired girl and she doesn’t know this, but something she said to me in college has stuck with me. She was discussing a new boy she had met who lived across country. She confidently and flatly said, “If he doesn’t want me, SO WHAT! You either do or you don’t!” It was a simple phrase really, but at the time my heart probably looked like an ugly version of Rocky Balboa’s beaten face and I thought she sounded like a revolutionary. I’m so glad I eventually learned to sing her tune. I suggest you do too.

Just yesterday a guy said to me, “You were right. We shouldn’t have gone to that instructor’s class. Petite brunettes are my weakness.” He wasn’t being a self-esteem busting jerk, he was being open because I encourage full honesty. Had I been sitting across from my 15 year old relationship, I would have looked down at my half eaten “large plate” fajita and thought… “your lettuce punishment binge starts tomorrow.” No fucking way, ladies. Finish your breakfast and listen up.

Guess what. My weakness is Thor like men- not fantasy. I’m talking blonde pony, blue eyes, toned and tall with an edge of desire to jump high and fall in love with girls from another planet. I have never once in my life actually been in love with someone that matches this description (no offense, lovers). My point here is that what we fall in love with can actually surprise us. Put me in a coliseum full of petite brunettes and instead of waving my white flag, I guarantee you I can find something beautiful about each and every one of them outside of their frame and hair color. Try this the next time your confidence is compromised, but first remind yourself that your own brilliance exists and it doesn’t flicker when someone decides they want something else. You can only be the best version of you, so go for 5 stars.

If you are in a relationship or potential relationship where open chatter about attraction is supported, then you better not blink when your partner mentions that hottie that walked by on the way to their morning coffee. If your boyfriend looks at a girl wearing a bandana for a skirt, try smirking knowing that you bagged him with your humor alone and please do not resort to physical violence. If you are like Rihanna and you want to feel like you’re the only girl in the world, then baby slide your forearm across his card table and dump your entire deck of cards into your purse; not to be shown until you find your perfect half whose eyes do not stray (or at least they have mastered the art of peripheral vision). Those men and women exist, too.

And if right now, for you, what you want or need does not exist….so what! Some day it will.

 

 

The challenge of loving challenge.

So you’ve fallen for your best friend’s significant other, or worse, your significant other’s best friend. You’re dwelling on someone that is happily taken. You stare at every empty seat at the back of the bikes that drive by wondering where they could take you. You turn off that song every time you hear the first chord, then you play with just letting it wash you away.

This post is my whiskey on the rocks toast to those that smell out challenge in love like they haven’t craved “normal” or “easy” for years. Cheers, rebels, let’s talk about healing together.

Step 1…does it serve you? Do you leave them feeling like you just opened your arms, flexed your feet and took a heart first dive into bliss? Do you spin out of control? What happens when you hit the ground? May I suggest elbow pads at least…

If you are a steel heart like my girl, Allie then you probably can’t resonate with the above. She loves like a champion and she keeps both feet on the ground. She bounces off assholes like she knows how high she should hold her head and when she hits the ground, she’s ready to run with 5” heels. We’ll come back to her later.

Step 2…that’s really cool that you’ve rolled around in the sand and clinked coronas…or grabbed their hand and ran to the side of the river to jump off the nearest dock…or dined at the top of Vail mountain in the middle of a snowglobe life…or that you’ve looked for shooting stars in Breckenridge. Hold those stories in the highlight reel of your life and when you return, know that you made those choices because they gave you a booster shot of happiness that you happened to manifest with our without the person you are imagining next to you. Maybe you’ve truly landed something great…but if tomorrow the waves have gotten higher, ski season ended and you never even found that shooting star, then let’s take a look at our track history of seeking challenge.

Try on easy. Try on living every day doing only things that make you manifest happiness and before you know it, someone will see a shooting star walking right down the street and my god, it will be you. Take a lesson from Allie and even if he or she races your heart to speeds that warrant a $300 fine, you better keep your head high or direct them to the nearest entrance ramp. Haven’t you listened to my girl, Alanis Morrisette? “Loving someone can actually feel like freedom.” If it doesn’t, you come to me and we will make friends with a travel agent.

I see it every day. I’m guilty myself. If you’re still out there seeking challenge, you will continue to be hit with challenge. Don’t look for boring or rushed commitment or even bouquets of sunflowers. Go look for the sunflowers together. If you want something you’ve never had…then you have to do something you’ve never done.

 

 

The 100mph road to free; helmet suggested.

I gave my stunning new co-worker and friend some relationship advice today. I said, “you wait to dive in to this eminent fight until you can walk in your front door as your most genuine self. You take your ride home to shed the layers that are not you and if words are thrown that cause you to doubt yourself or the things that you want at your core, then you simply walk away. Let go before you even get there.” 

Simple. Let go. I’m 25 going on 26. I’ve been in love a handful of times. I regret no one and nothing I have partaken in under temporary insanity caused by free spirited boys. I am currently single. 

We talk about letting go a lot in yoga. “Let go of what no longer serves you.” “Let go of anything that is not your authentic self.” Sometimes I believe it’s an important reminder to also say, “Letting go can be a son of a bitch, my friends, but on the other side of that hurdle full of thorns is a bright new sky.”

Make sure you jump high enough. 

Have you ever tried to let go of something while you were in the very moment of it? Just days ago I literally sped down a beautiful mountain road holding on to something that didn’t belong to me. I tilted my head back, breathed in the sun and said to myself, “Chelsea, this may be happiness but you will surely find it again. Be free.” 

We tell our sisters to seek only joyful situations. We tell our friends to never settle for anything less than they deserve. We tell our brothers to be given freedom and partnership. We tell our students to follow vibrant paths. But do we tell ourselves?

Do you, reader, tell yourself? If you don’t, then practice the son of bitch art of letting go. Be free. If you’ve known clear as day happiness, you will surely find it again.