The Life Enthusiast Chronicles with Sheila

Life is so endless to me. Just when I think I’ve seen and experienced everything possible, something astounding comes along, and I’m engulfed in its beauty once more. To pause and cherish the people and places we are surrounded by is something we can always do more of. And when we do…it’s damn magical.

Last month Roy from Back on the Rock  shared his love for running, how its physical and meditative benefits made him reconnect with the rhythm of life. In my new series, The Life Enthusiast Chronicles, awesome humans from all over the world discuss what makes them tick.

Today I’m very excited to welcome Sheila Hurst, a gal I met somewhat recently in the bloggerhood, and I bonded with instantly. She has a lovely way of seeing the world, taking each day in stride with humor and appreciation. I can always count on an inspirational read when one of Sheila’s posts pops up in my inbox. Her consistent positivity is a wonderful energy we are all lucky to experience. And, that makes her a wonderful example of a life enthusiast.

Connect with Sheila on Twitter. (You’re sure to have some laughs, as we did with our goat repartee some months back.)

Go for it, Sheila…

sunset on the ocean

I love the friends I’ve found here. In one way or another, they’re always reminding me to appreciate everything.

Britt’s sense of humor and enthusiasm for life is contagious. When she asked what made me enthusiastic about life, my first thought was the ocean. Then the more I thought about it, I realized it’s everything. It just depends on how you look at it.

I guess I’ll try to narrow it down a little.

Sometimes it’s the simple things: a butterfly splash of color, a sunset blazing in the background, wind lifting and rustling the leaves, laughter and music trickling through the air.

Just being outside revives me.

bird houseI love watching the seasons change while noticing things like a bud about to bloom or all the colors and patterns held in one leaf. The sound of birds singing after a long winter of silent snow fills my soul with happiness. The feel of the sun on my skin makes me want to soak in everything and let it all become a part of me.

Whenever I think of the universe, it astounds me that we’re all part of something so great. Something that’s in constant motion, always changing, yet somehow stable. It’s chaotic and harmonic and still so mysterious.

Dogs bring me back to Earth and remind me of all the joy that can be found in a leaf pile or a mud puddle or a snowstorm. They always make me laugh with their smiles and licks. They’re so full of love and they’re constantly giving that love away while still managing to overflow with it.

Sparks the dog

And then there’s people. I’ve been lucky enough to know some truly great ones.

My mom, dad, and brother were the first great ones I got to know. My elementary school, high school, and college friends are scattered everywhere now but when we are able to see each other, it’s always as if no time has passed – even if it’s been years. Someday we’ll all meet in a bar with goats (and believe it or not, there is a place like that in Memphis).

So it’s everything. There’s so much to appreciate.

And the more we think about it all, the more we realize how true that is.

Writing. It’s glamorous.

go to hell

Sometimes writers think of the perfect dialogue for that intense moment. Sometimes we scribble it down quickly and leave it lying around. Sometimes our spouse picks up the post-it and wonders where it all went wrong.

Just a little writing funny to share with you guys. I’ve been pretty aloof lately, a crazed woman with questionable hair holed up in the editing cave.

Mr. H is a trooper, watching me cautiously from afar.

Each day I’m drowning in stacks of paper and piles of cats, rubbing red pen off my hands, laughing at ridiculous typos, talking to myself…WAY too much, and trying to fight off bursting into tears for no reason at all.

Oh yeah…what the heck is with the English language?

I stared at the word “first” for a good fifteen minutes one day last week. I even checked merriam-webster.com. I’m still suspicious, but I guess I’ll go with it.

first in dictionary

Our apartment is dirty, and littered with maniacal post-its. But, I’m almost ready to hand off this book of mine to another set of eyes.

Don’t worry. We will survive, as will the cats.

Writing. It’s glamorous.

Any psycho writer stories you’d like to share below? Go for it! I could use the moral support right now.

Author Interview: Britt Skrabanek

Hey, lovely humans!

Just wanted to share my very first author interview with you all!!! (Can you tell I’m super stoked?) Sheila Hurst is a real gem for taking some time to sit down with me and my cat editing team. It was a surreal and awesome experience.

Stop by Sheila’s to check it out…

Sheila's avatarSheila Hurst

Britt Skrabanek and Downtown MilwaukeeI’m excited to introduce Britt Skrabanek, author of Beneath the Satin Gloves and Everything’s Not Bigger. Thank you for trudging through the snow to visit and for bringing Aphrodite and Hazel, your cat editing team. I’m sure they’ll help keep us warm while we talk. 

I loved your descriptions of Berlin in Beneath the Satin Gloves. Have you lived there?

One summer in college I studied abroad in a sleepy town near Stuttgart, then my husband and I traveled to Berlin a few years after that. People were surprised we were only going to Berlin for ten days and blatantly encouraged us to do the usual tourist fail. You know the one – trying to squeeze in the entire continent of Europe, never stopping to absorb the experience. That’s not our thing at all, so we scooped up an apartment in former East Berlin and lived there for a…

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The Life Enthusiast Chronicles with Roy

Life is just one of those things we don’t notice sometimes, right? We’re moving along, full speed, and it often passes us by. But the little moments, not the  accomplishments or milestones we reach, are often where the best of life resides. These moments are small, so you have to look hard. But when you catch them, it’s simply awesome.

Last month Letizia from Reading Interrupted stopped us in our busy tracks when she beautifully spoke of something we all genuinely love…books. In my new series, The Life Enthusiast Chronicles, incredible humans from all over the world discuss what makes them tick.

Today I’m stoked to welcome Roy from Back on the Rock, a long-time blogger/author buddy of mine all the way in Jersey (the Channel Islands, not the Jersey Shore).  Roy is just a good dude with heart, and his writing never fails to be insightful.  The way he often shares the magnificence of his home through history, community, and physicality always makes me stop to appreciate the little place I’m lucky to live in. To encourage us to pause and reflect on our surroundings is a very lovely thing. And in my eyes, that makes Roy a bona fide life enthusiast.

Connect with Roy at Back on the Rock on Twitter.

Take it away, Roy…

jersey sun

How can I do Britt’s excellent blog justice? I don’t want to lose her all of her followers! I didn’t realise what a responsibility it can be to guest on someone else’s page. Britt herself has a great joie de vivre and she expresses this not only through her accomplished writing but by living life through her love of physical movement – dance, yoga etc.

Rather later in life I found that the simplest physical activity of all, running, revitalised me as I was about to drift into a lazy, inactive middle age. Sure, I had played team sports all my life – lots of endeavour and limited success. But the time came where I gave up active participation in favour of administration and coaching. And starting to coach young athletes I found myself sadly lacking in physical fitness. I wanted to set an example.

jersey church

I began to run for fitness. I struggled for weeks to make any progress. It hurt, I hated it, I was about to give up. One evening I drove to the seafront and determined on making one last effort to run 30 minutes non-stop.  I’d managed only 20 minutes up until then. I told myself that the only way I’d do this was to slow down, to go ridiculously slow. And so I did. 76 minutes later I was euphoric, still going, prepared to run for ever that evening. I had to force myself to stop and go home.

Ten years later I’m still running. In the intervening years I’ve completed two marathons and any number of half-marathons, 10ks and other races. I’ve loved the training, the hardship of putting in the miles, seeing my physical fitness improve, times come down.

But more than this, running has done wonders for my well-being in other ways. Britt and many of her followers will be familiar with the benefits of meditation. Out there, pounding out the miles, one’s mind runs free. On the lanes, trails, cliff-paths you get into a rhythm, the rhythm of life. You observe the work of Nature and how she changes week by week. You notice little things, interesting old buildings perhaps, remnants of long-gone railway tracks.

As you run a long road your mind clears, everything falls into place. At least twice during long runs the solutions to seemingly intractable problems have come to me unbidden. I am a better-balanced person than I ever would have been without running.

jersey sea

But now, inevitably, my fitness and times have fallen off a cliff. Age and a fondness for craft beers have caught up. No more marathons for me. But now I am finding equal, perhaps greater pleasure in introducing other adults to running. Maybe first-timers, others returning to fitness after raising a family, those that have tried running before and have fallen by the wayside.

Because I now know some, at least, of the answers. The ‘f’(ast) and ‘s’(peed) words are banned until completion of the beginners’ course. We have a chat and a bit of a laugh. Running ought not to be hard work in the beginning.

And maybe one day some, at least, will go on to experience the very good things that happen to you when you’re a runner.

The Fork in the Road

Photo by Adrian Palomo
Photo by Adrian Palomo

A few years ago, another dancer and I were driving back home, in the kind of beat-up car you’d expect a starving artist to cruise around in. Almost an exact replica of the one from Wayne’s World, but without the sweet licorice dispenser.

It was one of those odd days right before fall. Fog and mist became strangely smitten with one another, only to be broken up by a sunny afternoon floozy that appeared, then disappeared, until it was easily forgotten beneath a resurgence of damp and dreary fervor.

I remember this day well, because it was damn grueling.

It was a long drive after an even longer day spent shooting a short film. This short film “Missed Connections” was a bit of a retro musical, with me as one of the Busby girls, while my driving dancer buddy was the choreographer. It was shown at the Milwaukee Film Festival, as well as many other festivals around the States. 

(Despite the silly story that follows, being a part of this film was an incredible experience.)

Anywho, on set one of the spirited hair stylists thought, despite my incessant warnings, that some retro finger waves would work on me. They didn’t.

And every time we stopped filming, she came dashing over to blind me with hairspray and stab me with bobby pins.

After ten or so hours of filming, running the dance sequences over and over again – here, there, and everywhere – my failed chic style had been gelled and sprayed so many times that it looked like I was sporting a large slug on my head.

On top of all that, I was in a skimpy leotard that I barely squeezed my ass into and wore borrowed heels which were too small. Every time they changed that camera lens, it was the kiss of death…do it all again, from the top.

For crying out loud! Somebody put me, my feet, my hair, and my uniboob out of our misery!

Photo by Adrian Palomo
Photo by Adrian Palomo

So, you get the picture. I was exhausted in a car with a slimy slug on my head.

It’s funny the things that we think about when we’re so tired, the kind of internal state that matches the thick haze outside. This uninvited calm often makes us reckless, in a good way.

That day in the car we had a conversation that stayed with me.

Both with day jobs, I was a dancer/writer and she was a dancer/visual artist, so we started talking about how we juggled it all.

Interestingly enough, we two go-getters came to an alarming conclusion. You can’t.

If your creativity is split in half, the fork in the road, neither direction will fulfill you. And, how in the hell can this lead to any sort of success?

Each road will be there and you may drive and drive and drive without stopping, but then you’ll run out of gas. And your desperate ass will be hitchhiking, wondering where it all went wrong.

Around this time last year, after a lifetime of dancing, I stopped. It wasn’t even a planned thing, it just happened. I became deeply involved with my Yoga practice and completed my teacher training last summer.

Then, in my usual Britt fashion, I took that too far.

I started a wellness/Yoga blog, accompanying social media channels, and taught like crazy…four days a week. All this time I was trying to squeeze in my day job, keep up with this blog and my third book, and eat, sleep, and live.

Where was my free time? That beautiful time to decompress and enjoy, to reflect and be open to inspiration. There wasn’t much, sometimes there wasn’t any.

The last half of 2013 I debated between a Yoga career and a writing career.

Sure, I wanted both. Did I have the time and energy to give both my full attention in my minimal spare time? No.

Naturally I tried my hardest, but it drained me.

By December I knew I had to choose. And, quite frankly, the choice surprised me.

Technically, a Yoga career would be the easier option. Wellness and health are in demand as they are a service, one where the cost can be validated.

Fiction writers struggle to make ends meet and it takes a long time to get your name out there. Art is subjective, difficult to put a price on, and bloody hell…there’s just so much of it out there!

But in the end, I chose writing.

After a month without posting, I decided to shut down my All the Way Yoga blog and social media, as well as free up my schedule by giving up two of the Yoga classes I was teaching each week.

It was hard, but it wasn’t painfully difficult. So, I knew it was the right thing for me to do.

I had become just like that hairstylist on set, determined to make the retro finger waves work on stubborn hair, putting more product, more pins, and more effort into all of it.

Photo by Adrian Palomo
Photo by Adrian Palomo

I went back to that conversation I had in the beat-up car after that long day of filming, with a slug on my head and a leotard hiked up my butt.

When I came face to face with exhaustion once more, I was taken down a notch. There I was again, idling at that damn fork in the road.

It’s not about limitations. It’s also not about going for something and failing.

Creativity is a beautiful gift, one which should be handled with great care. That’s what it’s about.

To all who supported my six month stint in the wellness world, thank you. For all who continue to encourage me to be a writer, thank you.

I’m lucky to have such an awesome community to keep me going. You are all necessary and lovely. Again, thank you.