positivity – Britt Skrabanek

Everything’s Not Bigger is Totally FREE All Weekend!

Hello, beautiful friends!

My book, Everything’s Not Bigger, is totally FREE all weekend 12/5-12/7 (until midnight PST) on Amazon, so run over and grab your copy!

If you’ve never read any of my books before, this is a great way to test drive. As always, reviews are much loved if you can take a quick moment to leave one.

I would describe Everything’s Not Bigger as a thriller/romantic comedy/travel adventure/drama. Hey, I’m Indie…I can do that sort of thing with genres.

In case you’re new around here, this is what the book’s about…

In the heartland of oil money, Jaye Davis spends her whirlwind existence trapped in the battlefields of high fashion. After escaping a turbulent past and leaving everything behind, she struggles to find her place in the world. Because Jaye Davis isn’t her real name. She’s a player in the witness protection program leading a dual existence.

Once her fabricated identity is thrown into jeopardy, Jaye flees to the haunting allure of Prague, embarking on a solitary quest to find certainty in her uncertain world. Unearthing her roots in an important step toward self-discovery, she learns to return to who she really is.

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON UK

Thank you for supporting the Indie Author movement.

Meditations in the Cold

My first fall in the Northwest has been a breathtaking sight.

The city has been overthrown by nature, its busy streets hushed by crisp colorful blankets of leaves from the army of trees commanding every block.

People wade through the crunchy mounds, smiling even on their way to work, thinking about crashing into one of the many piles just as they did when they were young and free from responsibility.

But, unlike the intense autumn I knew in the Midwest, all of this happens slowly here.

Each leaf flutters down from its branch with purpose, almost as if the leaf is taking its time to decide exactly where it wants to land. Whenever I spot one of these leaf performances, I stop and watch until it finishes its dance. Then, I smile and proceed.

To walk inside any of Portland’s forested communities, one can’t help but escape from the concrete, buildings, and congestion only minutes away.

Adding autumn and a Japanese garden into the mix enhances this magical experience.

Last Saturday Mr. H and I went to the Portland Japanese Gardens in the late afternoon. It was our first visit to the gardens and we hoped to catch some impeccable fall scenery.

Many of the trees were already bare and at first we felt disappointed that we had missed the best part of the season.

But as we walked, we slipped into a meditation, and silently absorbed the transition of the garden from the liveliness of fall to the solitude of winter.

Too often we lock ourselves inside when the cold takes over. We don’t know what to do, we feel anxious or sad, perhaps we’re already dreaming of spring.

But, we’re missing it.

This is a time of turning inward…to reflect on life, to explore the mind. It’s not a time of laziness, it’s a time to strengthen our spirits.

When we step outside, we can take a cue from nature. Things change—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly—and we should not only adapt, we should be a part of the beauty around us.

So what? It’s cold…take a walk.

Learning to Love That Thing I Hated

I was always that “I only run if I’m being chased” girl. But a couple of months ago, I changed that.

Over the summer this voice in my head—one of many—told me to start running. And, quite frankly, I laughed at it.

Now you all know me as being a very active person, so the hard feelings toward running may surprise you.

As a kid I played sports, did everything I could outdoors, then danced the rest of my life. Six years ago I traded my car for a bicycle for commuting to work. Though I stopped dancing, I became a regular Yoga practitioner with a ridiculous love for hiking.

On one of those beautiful summer Portland hikes in Forest Park, my crazy ass took off running.

Even crazier…it wasn’t so bad. In fact, I was having a blast.

Mr. H has been a runner for a few years now. First and foremost, he advised me to not get all 150% Britt with running, to take things slow and steady so I didn’t kill myself. He also recommended that I read Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.

This part really spoke to me…

“You had to love running, or you wouldn’t live to love anything else. And like everything else we love—everything we sentimentally call our ‘passions’ and ‘desires’—it’s really an encoded ancestral necessity. We were born to run; we were born because we run.”

When it comes to exercising, I’ve always been into the organic way the body moves. Combining that with nature is one of the most exhilarating moments I have known. Which is why my running focus has been on a trail rather than a treadmill.

Trail running has come very naturally to me. I’ve been running once a week since the beginning of September and each week it’s become a bit easier. I’m doing somewhere around two miles, but on technical trails with plenty of asshole hills along the way.

Running commands our full attention, with no room to think about the usual to-do list that often plagues our busy minds. The one time I wasn’t truly present on the trail last month—you guessed it—I ate shit.

Fortunately, I had a cat nurse to help me out. Unfortunately, I earned a new nickname by Mr. H after the June pothole bicycling accident and now this.

Hi, my name is Crash.

As I learn to love the thing I hated forever, I’m learning so much about myself along the way. When I used to try to run, I didn’t like it when it got too tough so I’d stop and give up. Now I embrace the tough, I keep going.

I’m just starting out with this new adventure. I don’t know much, I don’t wear any fancy running gear, and I’m not fast.

It’s not about goals, like beating my best time or training for a marathon one day.

It’s about running free among the trees. It’s about breathing and being. It’s about finding love when things get hard.

What about you guys…anything you hated that you’re learning to love?

The Lovers Bench Is Gone

The other day I learned some sad news when I went on my favorite hike. At the viewpoint, the lovers bench was gone. Forever.

Back in May I wrote a post called The Bench Where Lovers Had Been.

I usually do the same hike every week, about two hours round-trip from my house. Toward the end of the uphill hike, there are countless switchbacks to really make you work for it.

But at the top of the hill is the greatest reward, a downtown Portland and Mount Hood view enjoyed from the comfort of a weathered bench. The lovers bench.

I played a little fiction game each time I went up there. I’d pick out a couple carved in the bench, then make up a boy meets girl story in my head before heading back home.

Over the past few months this bench even inspired me to consider writing my first short story. (Consider, meaning I haven’t started a damn thing. But I intended to after more quality time with the bench.)

Anyhoo, this was the bench then…

This is the bench now…

So many professions of love tattooed on the decrepit wood had vanished. This strange, smooth wood no longer held stories of romance, foolishness, and hope.

The fresh and shiny bench didn’t woo me at all. To tell you the truth, this guy was kind of a son of a ~~bitch~~…um, bench.

Yep, he was a real son of a bench.

I preferred the refreshingly true one from before, all genuine and battered, even if it was a splinter in the butt waiting to happen.

Reluctantly I sat down on the impostor and sipped my water in silence. The city continued on below, as if it never had a single thought about that bench on the hill above.

My fingers ran across the perfectly even surface, searching for the charming grooves that were once embedded in the wood. Craving those carvings of love.

Then I looked down at the brand new black armrest and smiled.

There it was…the very first one. And, a new lovers bench was born.

I Came Back

I’m starting to realize an unsettling Something and I’m just gonna put it out there. We humans avoid self-reflection on purpose by staying so damn busy all the time.

We have full-time jobs, chores, obligations, and errands that must be done. We squeeze in time with family and friends when we can. We fit in exercise and passions, only if there’s time. We are glued to all of the shiny things the Internet has to offer—social media, blogs, news, recipes, the occasional celebrity gossip.

We have so much information available to us at any given moment. In fact, we carry a handheld device around with us to feed our hungry minds.

But, where are we in all of this? Treading water until we get so exhausted that we begin to sink.

Rather than drowning, I took matters into my own hands last year and tried a blogging and social media break, a clean mind sweep for two months. It’s my little way of going to a deserted island without leaving home.

This year, I only did a month. And, I came back.

But see, I meant to come back on October 1st. Then the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th went by quietly. At the end of my hiatus last month, I didn’t feel ready to come back. Not at all.

For inspiration I went back to my hiatus post to see if I completed my mission. I said…Most of all, I simply want to be.

It’s funny, because “being” isn’t simple at all. In fact, it’s effing hard.

WEEK ONE

I battled my ridiculous desire to check-in daily with my blog and social media accounts. Even with my email notifications turned off, muscle memory tricked me into pulling up Facebook on my laptop one night and Twitter on my phone another time during my lunch break. I quickly exited both times.

I realized the absent-minded habit I now possessed and yes, it was pretty freaky. I did my best to unlearn these habits and attempted to “simply be”.

That’s where things got a little dicey.

WEEK TWO

Every day I meditated peacefully in a forest, smiling as I reflected on the beauty within myself and the world around me. Not really.

When I wasn’t busy working and all the rest of it, I used my spare time to question what the hell I was doing with my life.

Mostly, I was coming down after self-publishing my third book, Nola Fran Evie. “Another book out, and still no signs of fame and fortune,” she thought sarcastically.

Also, broadcasting my personal life on blogging and social media started to make me shudder. Though I try to come from a place of good, is what I’m putting out into the world actually meaningful? Or, am I just another chick with first world problems talking about herself and taking selfies?

It was a rough week, needless to say. But then, Mr. H drove my sorry ass to the beach and this happened…

WEEK THREE

I stood in the sand and watched the sea, and guess what? I didn’t need to search or attempt, because I started that “simply be” thing I’ve been yapping about. I stopped getting down on myself and chose instead to see the good in me.

That moment I knew that I was doing alright with life.

WEEK FOUR

My hiatus was coming to an end. The big comeback blog post was looming. Shit.

I didn’t know what to write about—me, the girl who calls herself a writer. I wasn’t ready to deal with all of the waiting notifications and updates. I wanted to stay away, to keep my mystery, to viciously protect that small piece of me I found in September.

TODAY

At 8am I woke up to the sound of a trombone farting. Seriously.

Sunday morning. In the city. Trombone farts.

I wasn’t thrilled about it either, because I was having one of those lovely adult dreams you don’t want to wake up from—if you know what I mean. In the dream I was in the shower and my hunky husband was about to get in with me, then…trombone fart.

That brassy bastard.

My eyes flew open. The trombone farted proudly once again. What the hell?

Apparently, the Portland Marathon is today. Besides downtown, the route goes through our neighborhood as well. Two streets down there’s a block party with dance music and for some ungodly reason…trombone farts.

Surrendering to our fate, Mr H. and I put on some headphones and began our Sunday routine, drinking coffee in our chairs. I opened my laptop, then my WordPress page. I directed my mouse over to “Posts” and clicked on “Add New”.

My fingers started dancing across the keyboard, typing this nonsense. And, I was smiling big the whole time.

I came back.