Here's how you do it

I've talked to a number of friends lately who are teetering on the brink of their dreams. It's like an outbreak or something. Everyone's looking to mutiny, make a jailbreak from the mundane. What does it take to make it happen, get through the confusion, stop feeling so awful? they ask.

It takes an unswerving commitment to dig into your heart and then follow what's there. No matter what.

Be fearless. You must not let your doubts and fears stop you. Money, time, security, grief, loneliness, your past: these are excuses. See them for what they are. Illusions. Trust me. They are just illusions to be blown away like smoke, no matter how big they seem. I KNOW this.

So you've been scared before. Bankrupt before. Hurt before. Someone stomped your heart. Someone trapped you, ignored you, beat you down. Broke you. You feel like you fucked up. You did fuck up. Me, too. So what? So what? Do it anyway.

How do you figure out what you want? Ask yourself: What brings me bliss?

Start moving in the direction of your dreams and trust me, you'll be supported. I KNOW this, too.

Who am I? A woman that will never stop. I want to keep traveling, tasting, exploring the world, people, adventures, all the range of emotions and senses. I make my own rules. I will have a home base next to the ocean but I will always be on the move somehow. I'm a writer and will always be. I'm going to go to massage school one day. I have so much to share and I will do it, blissfully and without reserve. I am ready - despite my fears! - to have a fiercely / gently passionate relationship with a fellow traveler who takes one look at me and can say,

WOW. I want some more of you. As much as possible. Starting right now. Been waiting for this all my life, baby.

Oh, yum.

I will follow this path even at the risk of death because it's the only way I can live.

Valentine's Day 2011

Happy Valentine's Day: here's wishing you unfettered joy and pleasure no matter where you are, who you're with, or what you're doing.

I started this blog on February 14, 2010, to chronicle my writing journey. It's taken me from North Carolina, to Maine (where I launched the blog), to Mexico, back to Maine...and completing that circle, back to North Carolina once again. Phew.

Thank you for reading...

Still here

I'm still here (here in Maine and here, in the metaphysical sense). A bit tired, a bit banged up, and yet, I persist. Sometimes I wonder why I persist. Oh, yeah, I learned that in Mexico: fe, valor, corazon. Faith, courage, heart.

My book is done and now I'm on the hunt for an agent. Given that the process is now out of my control, given the approaching Maine winter, given many things I can - and can't yet - explain, I am heading South. My intuition has been nudging me for a while. Why do we ignore our deepest voice? (Food for thought). This is what I've been doing in October: surrendering and coming to terms with it. It. All of it.

"In my mind I'm going to Carolina..."

I'm still here. But soon I'll be there.

September

The change of seasons in Maine is just as drastic (if not sometimes rocky) as its coast. A week ago, it was flip-flop weather: warm, sunny, blue skies. Now, it's shoe weather: cool, breezy, with clouds.

As the trees seem to be getting ready to turn, we move into the typical harvest time.

For me, the harvest - fruits of my labors - will be my book.

My time in Maine is drawing to a close, so I savor each moment, making sure to take the back roads that show me views like the one you see above.

A needed correction

A few posts ago, I mentioned my housekeeping work at a lovely B&B. My new friend G pointed out that I'm not "just" a housekeeper, that I am a valuable helper and that in this coastal town during the summer, people from all walks of life are waiting tables, cleaning rooms, working the front desk. Whatever it takes to keep the tourist trade turning, dancing to beat the band because for most of the year, Maine is cold. And dark. And heating oil is expensive. So people have to WORK when they can.

"My gosh, we have people with PhD's scooping ice cream. Just a housekeeper," Greg said.

He calls me "Kellydoodles," by the way, which tickles me to no end.

In no way did I mean to disparage the work. I suppose I was trying to make a clever literary contrast between my past and present. But really...if I'm honest...I was wallowing in self-pity a teensy bit also. So unhelpful.

At the end of the day, it's not what you do, it's how you do it.

Thank you for the big fat reality check, G!

Moon in Maine

Entering the Silence

Lately I've been so wrapped up in all kinds of noise - real and imagined, physical and mental - that I am craving silence.

Native American tradition speaks about Entering the Silence, or going into the deep quiet within you to access inner knowing. I'm doing this with 20 minutes of daily meditation. And I feel yoga lets you touch silence too, in terms of letting pure energy take over. I guess there are a number of ways to Enter the Silence.

It's only after having experienced summer and winter here that I truly get, truly appreciate the gift of the Maine winter. The summer is about tourists and traffic and locals scrambling to deal with both. But in winter, there is silence, and you can immerse yourself - and find yourself - in the rugged landscape and the elements.

It is a marvelous thing.

I kind of feel like I am eating some words right now...

...and no, I will not be here this winter!

Maine, August

August in Maine is breezy and green. The nights are especially cool and feel like autumn in the South. The streets are packed with tourists, many of them Quebecois, lugging beach gear or flitting to dinner in the evenings.

I am embarking on a full polish of my book now, something I expect to take six weeks. Every day is so hard, because I get close to the finish line only to have it move away from me. Every day is so magic, because there are small pleasures to make me smile.

I can truly say this is the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. And I've done some things!

Fe, valor, corazon. Faith, courage, heart.

A return

I'm back in Maine, which is now blooming and alive.

But my very first morning back in the US looked like this:

I believe the hotel room above - result of a delayed flight on the way home - was the polar opposite of Mexico. Just look at it! Ascetic, corporate, muted inoffensive colors.

SIGH and SIGH again.

My heart is alternating between the emotion of the two photos: happy blossom and gray fog. I miss Mexico ferociously, with every fiber. Yet, I need to be home right now. The book demands it. So for the moment, I content myself with a gentle transition sweetened with lobster rolls and blueberry sodas...

Any words of wisdom from my posse out there?

Ultimo dia en Mexico

Last day in Mexico. Everything took on a new sheen, down to the 3am techno music wake up call and dusty streets.

My mind said how can you leave Mexico? My heart answered you don't leave Mexico. It stays in you forever, no matter where you go.

My Mexican friends only said cuando regresas? When are you coming back? For them it was a given that I was only leaving for a little while.

I started this blog to chronicle the journey from Maine to Mexico. Today I realized that somewhere along the way, I'd already placed a period after Maine. Winter in Maine. Period.

And yet, God had placed a comma. Maine, the place where I'll go through the editing process.

I feel quite comfortable with the continuation of From Icy to Spicy because while I will be departing Vallarta, I've become one spicy woman.

So stay tuned.

Hermit

Why didn't I see it before? In the process of writing this book, I've purposely put myself in situations that are isolating, all while feeling terribly lonely.

Maine in winter. Enough said. I lived in a coastal town that is basically closed from October through May. I hear they are still - still! - wearing sweaters there.

Puerto Vallarta in summer. I had visions of shaking off the dust and embracing life again. I'm realizing now that the weather here is conducive to staying inside. And as people keep telling me, it's not even begun to get hot yet: just wait til the rains start in June. As it gets hotter, I will spend more time in my apartment with the glorious view. People have also said that Vallarta really comes alive from November to March (and not now, when I am here). To be fair, as far as liveliness goes, Mexico is at the opposite end of the spectrum from Maine.

Fuck.

Am I just incredibly smart, creating spaces to force me to face myself and write...or what? I don't know how to feel.

Thank you, Maine

For the brilliant stars. For the hush of snow. For time and space to see myself. For time with my beloved family. For the sound of waves crashing during a Nor'easter. For the friends I have made and the love they've given me. Six months has somehow become the beat of a wing.

Maine, you've prepared me for whatever comes next.

Thank you.

And now, off to Mexico.

Blue sky, red dress

What a glorious day. It was the first time my toes had seen sun in six months. My toes and I enjoyed dark chocolate ice cream sitting on a park bench, watching people stroll through the center of town. Watching bikers cruise by in leather.

I heard someone exclaim "oh my gay GOD!" in a very loud, very gay voice. (Was it the leather that prompted that?)

Later, I took myself out to dinner in The Red Dress. I sat in a room with a tree completely adorned in white Christmas lights. A chef I will call the Dessert Fiend tried valiantly to get me to eat cheesecake peach tart chocolate mousse cheese plate ANYTHING! But I was content with the wild mushroom soup and the perfect scallops and bok choy.

Life is coming back to Maine.

¡Fiebre primaveral!

It means spring fever. And that's just what's hit Maine this weekend. The beach was packed with people. Everyone was smiling. I even met a woman with a dog who was half wolf. She - the dog, not the woman - dipped her pink tongue into the ocean and then sneezed.

For me, spring fever awoke this morning with the intense desire to dress up for dinner. I mean tall boots, dress, and eye makeup. Off with the fleece, jeans, and Uggs and on with something fancy!

I called the man who works at the eyeglasses shop. (I just got a new pair).

"Hi, S?"

"Oh, Kelly, your frames aren't ready yet."

"No, well, um, I'm calling for another reason. You said you were looking for a reason to dress up. That you don't get a chance to dress up as much since you moved from New York City."

"Uh huh." He's sounding confused here.

"So I thought, why don't we grab a bite to eat and dress up together? Sounds fun, right? Good conversation, fancy clothes?"

"Oh. Oh! I am so flattered. But I have to tell you, I'm a married man, so I don't think that would be appropriate. But oh, so flattering!" Now he's sounding quite pleased with himself.

I agreed with him and hung up. I'll chalk that one up to the rising of the sap...

I love you, too

There's not a lot of color in Maine in February. But I've got an audacious florist friend who keeps me steeped in nature's palette. A little eye candy. Thanks, K!

Like this glorious rose above, which opened into a cosmic message of love. Spectacular.

And meet "Shocking Versilia." Quite the strong, masculine rose, don't you think? I love a nice, straight stem. Insert dirty joke here.

He's watching over me as I write...

Fleeeeeece!

I am tired of wearing:


I am eager to wear:


One says cozy, snoozy warmth. The other, lively, sexy movement. I'm finding it harder and harder to feel creative wearing something that feels like a sheep.

¡Hola, mis amigas y amigos!

I am rewilding myself.

That is, I am returning to a natural state, the sexy juicy bold brave raw loving savoring celebrating curious cosmic circumstance I would inhabit without the interference of the humdrum and ho-hum. Just like a jaguar dancing through jungle foliage.

Let’s take a look at Kelly in her habitat. Here she is, strolling down the street in some tropical locale, clothed in a pink t-shirt and a floaty bit of skirt, her smile a stupor of joy. Here she is, sitting on a verdant veranda, journal in hand. See her playing in the waves. See her eating guacamole. See her finally finishing her memoir and shaking her hips in front of her laptop…

To get back to my worldly wildness, first I have to get out of Maine!

I am heading to Mexico.

Last February I traveled to Puerto Vallarta on a last-minute vacation whim, drenching myself in ocean and sunset. In May, I left a decade-long corporate career. During the summer, I bounced from friend to friend and wrote like my life depended on it. Which it did, I think. Against a backdrop of flaming fall foliage, I road tripped to Maine.

And then it got cold.

And then it got colder.

Who knew they made fleece pants?

Damn. Is that my big hibernation ass in the mirror? Junk in the trunk!

One day as I gazed out at cars drifting by on Route 1, I knew my winter writing retreat was over. It was time to put up or shut up. I’d quit a job – a career – to do this. Time to put myself out there and go back to Mexico. Puerto Vallarta and I have some unfinished, enchanted business.

Happy Valentine’s Day, me!

I consider my book a love letter. Penning a memoir ties you up and teaches you to love life. All of it. The pain and the laughs, the watery peaks and troughs, the lobster rolls and slippery sidewalks, the breakdowns and shakeups and breakups, the fucking, the loving, the sweet sweaty pleasure of who you really are when you forget yourself.

I’ve already fought my way to the top. Now, I shall surrender my way to the top. This will be easy to do with the spicy, lime-scented breezes of Mexico under my wings.

Come with me.