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Last Sunday morning I went to Sur la Table with my friend, Allan, to take a coffee class. One of Allan’s new year’s resolutions is to learn more about food and its preparation so he asked me where he might take some classes. I had read about Sur la Table’s new course schedule in the Times a few weeks ago and wanted to check it out.

Allan has also been a tremendous support of every adventure I’ve attempted over the last 7 years I’ve known him so I’m all too happy to return the favor. Judging by the fun we had on Sunday, I think the coffee class is just the beginning of our culinary classes.

The class was put together by Illy and coffee master Giorgio Milos walked us through the intricacies of selecting, preparing, and enjoying coffee in a variety of its beautiful forms. A caffeine lightweight and a lover of a good adventure story, I was sufficiently buzzed through Monday, body and soul. Giorgio spun a tale of intrigue, passion, and jealousy peppered with royal battles and thievery, all while he served up cup after cup of rich, frothy coffee. It was like sitting around a campfire late at night and hearing the rich oral history of a people passed down by a wise village elder in a fine Italian suit.

Lesson #1: We determine our destiny
The bit of information that had my mind whirring (beyond the effects of the caffeine) was how the method of brewing deeply affected the taste, consistency, visual appearance, and aroma. Same raw grounds and water in, completely different end-product out. The only variables were the pack of the grounds, the pressure and temperature of the water, the texture of the grind, and how long the water was in contact with the coffee grounds. All variables are controlled by the person making the coffee. The raw material matters, certainly, but how we treat that raw material has an incredible impact on our results.

Lesson #2: Every moment offers the opportunity for creativity
I was also struck by the artistry of coffee-making, and I’m not talking about pretty pictures made in crema. Giorgio had a finesse and a grace that reminded me that creativity can be brought to bear in every act we take. Whether we’re painting, playing the piano, or making our morning joe, we can always find ways of expressing our deepest selves and enjoying our work.

In life, business, and coffee, it’s the actions we take and the manner in which we take them that matter most. And it doesn’t hurt to have a guide with an Italian accent.

Wait a minute! Did I go to bed and wake up in September 2008?

This is the question I found myself thinking while at work yesterday. September 2008, 5 weeks after I joined my company, Lehman Brothers failed and the market went to hell. Several months later I was the only filled desk in an island of empty cubes. It was horrendous. I got through it, but it was no picnic and I’ve still got a few scars to prove I was there. You can’t see them, but pull up a chair any time and I’ll gladly tell you the story. (Not now, of course. But eventually.)

This week, I found myself in that same beat up situation. Fire drills from every direction. Some colleagues who have somehow forgotten that the first five letters of the phrase “humane treatment” are “human”, as in don’t pretend we have to chin up because that’s just how it goes. Some “leaders” telling us that we are the ones responsible for making this reorg work and not them. (Not my leader, mind you, who has been incredibly awesome in this whole ordeal!) It’s enough to make anyone go running after her sanity right out the front door.

And then last night I started my first voice over class. I left the office and thought to myself, “Really – now I need to go to class? I just want to go home and crawl under my bed.” I didn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone, or smile at anyone. So, I got moving. I hopped out of the subway at 14th street and walked 15 blocks to Simple Studios, the class location.

As I approached I remembered that I had some of my yoga teacher training classes on the same floor of this building in 2010. When I began that training, I was also at a crossroads. I was also a bit blue and lost and confused. It turned out alright then. I channeled my energy into the training and Compass was born 5 months later. Maybe this history, just like my earlier feelings about September 2008, repeats itself, too.

The class was incredible. Sponsored by the PIT (People’s Improv Theater) and taught by the entertaining, honest, and incredibly smart Ed Lewis was a joy. The moment I walked into the building and headed for the elevator I felt a release, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I left feeling lighter, happier, and more capable. I also think voice over work is going to be a blast!

My very dear pal, Jeff, is taking the adventure in voice right along with me. So here we go, folks! Another new adventure begins as I believe the curtain may come down on an adventure that’s gone on a tad too long. I’m not one to believe that when one door closes, a window opens. I believe that when a door closes, we have the ability, the choice, and the responsibility to rise up and carve our own way toward a brighter tomorrow.

I’m ready. As George Michael said, “I gotta have faith…”

I’ve got some career choices to make in a shorter time frame than I planned.

The company I work for is going through some reorganization. Minimal reduction in headcount lots of reshuffling. This comes as no surprise; what surprised me was that I would have options. There are several different places that I could land in the organization. It may also be possible for me to opt-out, wish them well, and be on my way into the unknown. I’ll spend the next few weeks gathering information, assessing possibilities, and asking for a lot of advice from the smartest, most creative people I know.

In many ways, I wanted someone else to make the first move – to place me in a role and then have me decide if I wanted to stay or go. That’s how I had it mapped out in my head – node of decision tree and then just two branches depicting my choices. We should never underestimate life’s ability to surprise the hell out of us. I must be the first mover in this case.

Brian, my coach, and I talk a lot about the hero’s journey in which the hero chooses between different roads without any of them obviously being the better choice. It’s about choosing the road that is the best for us, at this moment, with the imperfect information we have. It comes down to trust. Trust in us.

I’m going over to my meditation cushion now, closing my eyes, breathing in, and breathing out. The answer will rise up if only I am ready to hear it. When it appears, you’ll be the first to know.

The Lantern Festival, Honolulu, Hawaii from...Pinterest

I found my way to Pinterest through a blog friend labyrinth.

My friend Phyllis started a new blog, The Carb Lover Lady. Phyllis and I are bloggy friends after I asked to interview her back in 2009 for my Examiner column on entrepreneurship. Phyllis recently featured a recipe for Greek Yogurt Banana Bread on her blog from Ingredients, Inc., the site of Alison Lewis, a health expert. (By the way, I’ve started practicing my baking again thanks to the encouragement of MJ, another bloggy friend and great supporter of my writing and life.)

Alison uses Pinterest to find a lot of the images on her site and they’re stunning. The one of the banana bread made my mouth water so I toddled on over to find where photo like this can be found online. And then I went down the rabbit hole. I was blown away by the beauty and breadth of the images.

Pinterest is a site of curated images by people like you and me. Their mission is to build a community of people who share images they love. As my friend Amanda (another friend I met through blogging) said, “Fun to take a break from text and live with images for a while.” My friend Kelly pins images of houses she dreams of living in. And that’s the real genius of the site: like life, it’s what you make of it.

Above all, Pinterest is a wonderful reminder of all the beauty that this world holds, all the inspiration that’s out there if only we search for it and share it. Hop on over and check out the images that are making me smile – click here.

Jeremy Gleick. Photo by Peter DaSilva for The New York Times.

I’d never heard of Jeremy Gleick until this weekend. On a snowy Saturday, the first snowy day of the year, Phineas and I were snuggled up in our apartment. He in his bed with his favorite squeaky toy and me on the couch with the New York Times. There was a special education section in the paper and Jeremy Gleick was featured in an article appropriately titled “Renaissance Man.”

Several years ago, Jeremy instituted the Learning Hour in his life. Every day for 4 years he has set aside an hour every single day, no matter where he is or what’s happening in his life, to learn something new and completely unrelated to his school work. (Jeremy is a sophomore at UCLA.) He has just crossed the 1000th hour mark.

I read this article astounded at his dedication and foresight at such a young age. I found myself thinking, “Wouldn’t it be great to have that extra time?” And then I remembered my post from just a few days ago on finding time. I do have the time; what makes the difference is how I choose to use it. I write every day. I do yoga every day. I take care of my dog, teach yoga and meditation, run a nonprofit, and maintain a fulfilling social life. Is there another hour in there for something totally unrelated to all of my current projects? And if there is, wouldn’t it be better spent working on one of the projects I already have going on?

I settled in to my meditation to think about this idea, and from deep within I could feel an answer rise – “Christa, you can’t work on your business all the time.” Sometimes that little voice has a point so good I can’t ignore it. It was right – I need to give myself more of a break. And it doesn’t make me lazy and it doesn’t mean I lack commitment. It just means I’m human.

As we maintain a full-time job and try to build a side business at the same time, it’s tempting to use all our free time for work. This isn’t healthy or wise. We need to maintain a balance. We need time away, learning things that have absolutely nothing to do with any of our current work. Our bodies need rest; so do our brains and our imaginations.

Replenish the well by learning something new!

From Pinterest

“Do not wait to strike until the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking.” ~ William B. Sprague via Alison Lewis

Over the past few months I’ve been sending out query letters and full book proposals to potential agents for a book I’m writing about yoga and personal finance. I love the project and have faith in the methods it uses because I used them to transform my finances. These are ideas born from experience, not theory.

While many agents have been encouraging of the project, they have all said it’s so different that they don’t have a proxy to point to that assures its success. In the often cut-throat world of modern publishing, they need to know every book they advocate for is a winner. Their reputation is on the line and risk-taking is rare these day in the hallowed halls of books.

I have yet to feel badly about any of these rejections; I feel badly for agents and traditional publishers. They’re part of an industry of tied hands, locked hearts, and icy cold eyes fixed on P&L statements. It’s sad and they’re missing a lot of boats. I’m sure they know this, and feel powerless to do anything about it.

So now I’m at a cross-roads trying to decide if it’s worth it to continue down the traditional book publishing path for my project or carve one of my own through self-publishing and platform building. There’s the prestige of having a traditional book publisher, but also the loss of control. The publisher also makes the lion’s share of the profit from the book, even though the author is doing just as much work, if not more, to market the book.Teh list of pros and cons is endless; even though I’m an avid list maker, I’m getting tired of this analysis.

A recent note from a high-powered agent began to tip the scales toward self-publishing. It began:

“A book is like an iceberg: Writing is 10%; marketing is 90%. ~ Chicken Soup coauthor Jack Canfield

Christa,
Many thanks for writing about your excellent idea for a book. Out of necessity, our goal is to sell books to New York houses, and they want writers with a platform and a strong promotion plan. So the challenge is to maximize the value of your book before you sell it. Publishers aren’t buying promise, they’re buying proof. So before we can help you with the 10%, we need to know how much you can help your publisher with the 90%. Because we can usually tell from a platform and a plan if we can help a writer, that’s where we like to start.”

That 10% / 90% ratio sticks in my craw a bit. However, this agent went on to give me a lot of wonderful advice and some ideas of how to develop a solid book plan and platform. I did find it humorous that he quoted Jack Canfield, an author whose initial book was rejected by publishers 123 times and began a series that now boasts 200 titles and 112 million copies in print in over 40 languages. Jack is also an advocate for the advantages of self-publishing and the value of small presses. (Learn more about Jack’s writing journey and publishing philosophy here. To read tales of 50 rejected writers who went on to write treasured works, click here.)

When making decisions like this, I examine my past experiences. I’m most proud of the roads I built myself. They’re exhausting, though they’ve always been worth it. During the times that I took a path prescribed by others, I found a bit more sleep, a lot less joy, and a lack of inspiration. I’m a person meant to carve my own canyon through the mountain, to fire up the iron myself rather than waiting for someone else to do it – that’s just how I roll.

Photo by Soller

Next week is going to prove to be an interesting week around the office. There are rumors flying about changes in staff, strategy, and priorities. I’ve heard so many at this point that they’ve all cancelled one another out. Only one thing is for certain – the way it is now is not the way it will be going forward. But isn’t that always true? Change is part of life, every piece of it.

Not even a year into this work toward my new year’s resolution, and it may come to be bear without me doing much of anything. We don’t always get to choose what happens to us, but we always have the opportunity to choose what we do about it. Sometimes we leap on our own, and sometimes we’re pushed into taking the leap. We don’t always see the push coming, and many times there’s little we can do to stop it. The question is will be commit to this new trajectory being laid out for us or will we try to cling to the ledge of a cliff we don’t really want but feels familiar?

My answer in one word: Geronimo!

Anne Lamott. Photo taken by James Hall.

“Time is not free—that’s why it’s so precious and worth fighting for…I’ve heard it said that every day you need half an hour of quiet time for yourself, or your Self, unless you’re incredibly busy and stressed, in which case you need an hour.” ~ Anne Lamott

My friend, Kristin, who pens the fantastic blog Writerhead recently featured this piece from Anne Lamott on her site. Lamott is my favorite author and her advice on writing has been a treasure trove for me since I was an undergraduate at Penn. My old copy of her book Bird by Bird is well-worn and more true every time I re-read it.

Since the start of 2012, I’ve received advice from others on the value of peace and quiet on an almost daily basis. I wrote about it on this blog here, here, and here. My friend, Derek, sent me a quote a long time ago that read, “The Universe is a very generous place. It will give you the same message over and over again until you learn it and don’t need to go through it any more.” Universe, I hear you.

Lamott recently offered her contribution to this ongoing societal dialogue about the value of quiet and unplugging from the world for a while. She writes so beautifully and poignantly that I won’t even attempt to recap her words. Read them here in her short essay Finding Time. Hint: we all have time to do something we love.

After months of deliberation, I finally chose to take the next step in my wellness career and pursue my next level of yoga teacher training. It’s been almost 2 years since I finished my 200-hour training at Sonic Yoga. I got an excellent base from Sonic and I treasure my teachers and friends from the program. After taking Cheri Clampett and Arturo Peal’s therapeutic yoga training at Integral Yoga last summer, I knew I needed my next level of teacher training to be deeply rooted in therapeutics. And so, I chose ISHTA Yoga‘s program.

Last week, yoga teacher Rodney Yee gave a speech at the San Francisco Yoga Journal Conference on yoga and healthcare. His message aligns with my feelings about who I am best equipped to serve in my teaching through Compass Yoga. It’s wonderful that 5% of Americans are practicing yoga, but what about the other 95% who would greatly benefit from it if there were more teachers willing to bring them into the fold? That is where the teaching opportunities of the future lie. The 95% are the students I am meant to serve and the ISHTA program is the best in New York City to help me fulfill that mission.

Many teacher training programs aren’t preparing teachers who can teach those who need special consideration. ISHTA is one of the great exceptions, and though I’ve spent a lot of my time since Sonic teaching and training to help introduce modified yoga and mediation to brand new practitioners, I know I need additional, intensive training to really up my skills. I’m so excited for this next leap with ISHTA!

ISHTA’s program dovetails with my teaching intentions perfectly. This beautiful storm of circumstances fell into place more seamlessly than I ever expected. I begin my first classes at ISHTA on January 31st. Along this next leg of the path, there will be many moments of insight, wonder, and discovery. I promise to share them all with you. Stay tuned! Namaste, baby!

Buddhists believe that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

Native Americans believe that when a soul comes into our lives it is because it has something to teach us and when we lose someone close to us it is a signal we learned all we could from them.

I believe in both philosophies.

A year ago, my dog, Phineas, came into my life unexpectedly. He was found in the woods, abandoned by his owner and starving. He is perfectly trained in every way except one – he has horrible separation anxiety. He isn’t destructive in any physical way – he just cries a lot when I leave the apartment. He will go long stretches of time without making a peep when I leave, but then goes through terrible spurts of discomfort and stress.

On Saturday, I enlisted the help of a trainer through the company Barkbusters. Though pricier than other trainers, I chose them because they specialize in separation anxiety and they come with a lifetime guarantee. Yes, you read that correctly. A lifetime guarantee – they will return as often as I need them to for the remainder of Phineas’s life and help with any behavior challenge we may have wherever we may live. And my trainer is available at any time, day or night, by email or phone. A worthwhile investment. My only wish is that I had found them sooner, though finding them now, at this point in my own healing journey, brought home a very important realization that only now can I understand and appreciate.

I thought Phineas’s anxiety was from the fear that once I left I may never come back. And while that’s the base fear, here’s the nuance that our trainer taught me: Phineas isn’t worried for himself; he’s worried for me.

He’s on security detail and as such, he feels that he needs to protect me and keep me safe so that way I can continue to take care of him. When I go out into the big, scary world, he’s worried I will be harmed because he isn’t there to protect me. He has no way to control the situation and that lack of control mixed with fear is causing his anxiety. He’s taken on the job of being my body-guard and it’s not a role he is equipped for, nor a burden he should be responsible to bear. He hates this job, but he thinks it’s the only way he can assure that he won’t be abandoned again.

Isn’t that wild?!

Not really. I understand that feeling all too well. Dogs and children process information in such a similar way.

When I was a very young child, I was very aware that my father would never be able to take care of me. I knew that my mother was the only one in our household equipped to take care of me until I got big enough to take of myself. I worried constantly that something terrible would happen to my mother and that I’d be left with my father, which effectively meant I’d be on my own to take care of myself before I was ready.

It was a horrible burden to bear – I developed insomnia, headaches, and intense stress. I did my very best to compensate and cope, but as a young child there was no way for me to logically process my fears. I didn’t have the skills to do that. So I worked very hard in school because I linked doing well in school with getting a good job that would give me the income to provide for myself. I fought very hard to become as independent as possible as soon as I could. And while to the outside world I was a wonderfully adapted and well-adjusted child, I would argue that this adaptation and adjustment came at a very dear price. A price I still pay though am now able to articulate, understand, and repay as I heal. My yoga and meditation practices went a long toward than end. They still do.

Phineas and I are in the same boat – different cause, same effect. And if I can help him heal, really heal on a very deep level, then that will go a very long way toward healing my own inner child who still worries that she’ll be abandoned and still struggles to believe that I will always be able to take care of myself. Truly believing this last piece is the key to the confidence it takes to leap into entrepreneurship. Phineas was part of the Universe’s great plan for me and my work.

I thought by adopting Phineas that I was changing his life, and I certainly am doing just that. But he’s also changing mine, far more than he knows. As I watch him at this very moment sleeping peacefully in his bed, I’m even more determined to help him if for no other reason than to thank him for his soul’s incredible sacrifice for the sake of my soul’s healing.

Cesar Millan is famous for saying that he rehabilitates dogs and he trains people. This is certainly the case for me and for Phin. The calmer and more confident I can become through my own yoga and mediation practice, the more I can help him. And his healing will speed my healing. It’s a virtuous cycle that I am finally ready to begin.

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