positivity – Page 2 – Britt Skrabanek

A Haircut and A Hiatus

Yep, that is the tattooed forearm of my hairstylist showing off her latest hair trophy…my two long-ass ponytails. After painstakingly growing out my hair for the past five years, I decided it was time to chop it—to shed half a decade permanently and embrace the new.

It’s no wonder we gals get so attached to our hair. That hair’s been attached to us for years—through good times and bad, through boredom, through adventure, through love, and through sadness.

Of course, there is the obligatory idea that long hair on a woman is more beautiful, more youthful. We see celebrities wearing extensions to conceal their short hair from the public, we are told that only soccer moms and older women go short, and there’s a rumor that men prefer long hair.

Funny, but Mr. H likes short hair. Something about seeing my face better, which is quite sweet.

I had an interesting chat with one of our cool neighborhood bartenders a couple of days before the Great Ponytail Massacre. She was rocking a new pixie after a lifetime of Rapunzel hair. She felt liberated after letting it go and she looked it, like a weight had been lifted off her entire face and body.

As “pretty” as long hair can appear, I won’t miss the obscene shampoo budget or getting caught in car doors and automatic windows. The moment my ponytails were cut off, I didn’t get teary-eyed or feel regret.

I felt freaking awesome.

Now there is no mass of hair for me to hide behind. It’s just me.

Along with this newfound sense of freedom, I decided that it was time for me to take a hiatus. Last year I did a little experiment and took a two-month break from blogging and social media.

That’s right…cold turkey.

No weekly blogging. All email notifications of likes and comments were turned off. Commenters would receive responses after the hiatus.
No blog socializing. Though I kept up with my blogger buddies I am subscribed to through email, I refrained from my usual liking and commenting.
No social media. This included my Goodreads, Twitter, and Facebook accounts (personal and author). Email notifications were turned off and to avoid any slip-ups, all apps were removed from my smartphone.

It was my version of a going to a deserted island for a while. Though in reality I was still in Milwaukee, working in my cubicle, finishing my Yoga teacher training, and busting out my first draft of NOLA FRAN EVIE.

My intention for this experiment was to take some time away from the chatter to find focus, the kind that I was craving to achieve some personal milestones.

And, I did find it. Hell, I even nailed my first headstand after many months of hard work.

(If you want to read about my hiatus experiment last year, check out So You Want to Take a Media Vacay.)

This time my intention is quite different. Believe it or not, this go-getter doesn’t have any big life goals. The only thing I know is that I will hunt for inspiration through nature, books, and human experience.

I am searching for rejuvenation. Most of all, I simply want to be.

Rather than two months this year, I’ll be out for the month of September. I’ll still be keeping up with my favorite blogs, but I’ll be one of those lurkers who never makes their presence known. I’ll respond to any social media and blogging comments upon my return. Naturally I’ll miss you guys, but I know that you’ll all still be here when I get back.

If you miss me, you can always contact me the old-fashioned way…through email.

And, ahem—for those who still haven’t read my latest book NOLA FRAN EVIE, you know what to do. (Hint…buy it today on Amazon!)

I’ll be around until Sunday the 31st and would love to hear from you before I go dark. Thank you all for your gorgeous support.

Oh, here’s my hair…

Sometimes We Crash

On my favorite hike yesterday evening I had a soul-stopping moment.

There is a rather busy road hikers have to cross to pick up the trail again, with no light or stop sign, so cars have to stop to let pedestrians go. I had just crossed the street when I heard that all too familiar sound of crunching metal.

I whipped around expecting a fender-bender. Instead, I watched her car flip off the side of the road and disappear over the drop-off.

I sprinted back across the street, expecting her to be gone. Several people jumped out of their cars and we all joined at the side of the road.

The car was pinned against the base of a tree, which saved it from somersaulting down the cliff. Had there been a passenger with her, that person would not have made it.

Four men rushed down to the car as we called for help. We all watched in horror, expecting the very worst.

Miraculously she was conscious and crying, with no visible injuries.

We are always told that a person should not be moved until help arrives. However, when a car is cradled precariously by a tree with the possibility of plummeting into a creek way down below, that changes things.

And so the guys worked together and managed to bring her up the cliff to safety.

Good-hearted people kept running over to help. At that point there were too many cooks in the kitchen and we had to turn people away. We needed to keep traffic going so the ambulance could actually get through on the narrow, winding road.

Four of us remained with the driver until help arrived. We did what we could for her during that time.

Fortunately, one man was a physician and besides being extremely shaken up, he could tell that she was alright. Effing lucky as all get-out, but alright.

The other man called the young woman’s mother. It was heart-wrenching to watch her attempt to form a complete sentence on the phone, but you could see that just hearing her mom’s voice was the best thing for her while we waited.

The other woman I was with covered her shaking shoulders with a shawl and I gave her my bottle of water. We continued comforting her as best as we could.

Naturally, it seemed like years before the reassuring sound of sirens echoed in the distance when it had probably only been minutes.

I answered a few questions and then I began my long hike back home in a daze.

This was only my second hike since a pretty awful bicycling accident I had with Silvie a couple of weeks ago when I hit a jerk of a pothole. (Hence, the Band-Aid pic above.)

I crashed and burned on my way home from work, because I wasn’t paying attention the way I should have been. I paid for it too, with a mosaic of bruises, bumps, and scrapes all over my lower body. Crotch bruises…not fun.

I had trouble sleeping and walking for a week. Naturally, Yoga and hiking were out of the question. But I got back on Silvie the bike again two days later. Because after all of that, I was banged up but alright.

Sometimes we crash. The important thing about crashing is to learn from it, to recognize that life is precious and very, very fragile.

We live in a world of distractions that alarmingly moves faster and faster each day. Our minds are cluttered, trying to keep up with it all.

I’m not writing this to campaign against texting and driving, because duh—don’t do that.

I’m writing this to say two things…

There is no such thing as being too present. Slow down, pay attention, and be in every moment as much as you possibly can. It may save your life.
No matter what happens—an accident, a disaster, a crash—we are there for one another. The beauty of the human heart will always come through. And that, lovelies, is a powerful thing.

A Physical Perspective Turns Two

I thought about blogging for a long time—a few years actually. But I was holding myself back.

In fact, I held myself back most of my life by keeping my writing concealed. I can’t even blame a lack of support around me, because I was lucky enough to have it right in front of my face. Yet, I refused to acknowledge any of it.

My English teachers encouraged me like crazy, but I brushed them off. My parents both said I should be a writer when I “grew up”, but I ignored them too.

Then one day Mr. H dared me to write a novel. Being that I was spinning in circles at that time in my young adulthood—bored and a bit reckless—I told him I was game.

I didn’t have a clue how I would pull off writing an entire freaking book.

Insecurities raced across my mind every day. How in the hell are you going to write hundreds of pages? Why are you going to spend your minuscule free time working that hard? And, after you devote years of your life to one damn story…who in their right mind will ever take the time to read it?

But when I say I’m going to do something…I do it.

Five years after the day I took that dare, I’m still here, proudly finishing up my third book, The Bra Game.

My blog, a physical perspective, is having a birthday. She just turned two.

Naturally, I wanted to celebrate this special day with all of you.

Blogging was a necessary step in the indie author process. How else would anyone know that me and my words existed?

It was difficult for me to find the courage to share my writing with the world. I didn’t feel that I had anything worthy to offer in an online universe where there is already such an overwhelming chatter.

Throughout my writing journey I have been amazed by one thing above all…our awesome community. People from across the globe are connecting in a way I never thought possible. Every day I see so much beauty being shared through the written word, and I feel honored to be a part of it.

I am truly grateful for all of you, and all of this. Keep rockin’ the peace and the love.

Yin-Yang and Pop Tarts

Last Friday I was cooped up all morning in my pajamas, a mad writer in the final stages of novel editing. My eyes were burning and I was barely on speaking terms with the English language.

As it was due time to see the light of day, I rode Silvie the bike through bustling downtown Portland and found some surprising tranquility.

There are things about Lan Su Chinese Garden that would normally keep me far, far away. It’s located in the city’s touristy Chinatown and you have to fork over nearly 10 bucks to get in the front door.

But, I gave it a go.

I decided to geek out and take the walking tour.

The tour guide with the cheesy Yin-Yang baseball cap almost made me change my mind, but he had me with his calm demeanor. He even told us we could leave at any time, or wander away and come back.

There were covered walkways throughout, but the rain was a soft drizzle so none of us cared about getting wet. Rumor has it that a heavier rain at Lan Su is nothing short of magical as the rain slips off the ornate roofs to create a beaded curtain effect.

It was incredible to learn the meaning of everything encompassing us—the stories and poetry, the Yin and Yang from floor to ceiling.

Bridges were designed in a zig-zag pattern to encourage the walker to slow down and absorb their surroundings.

At a leisurely pace I marveled at this island of serenity surrounded by noise and grime, lapsing into a walking meditation. Then I began to be awe-inspired by the Yin-Yang connection beyond the walls, in the way the city itself contrasted starkly with the garden.

To finish my sweet adventure I stopped into the tea house within the garden for sustenance. Before you enter there is a sign requesting guests to silence their cell phones. Um…awesome.

For my first ever formal tea experience, I chose the Golden Monkey black tea accompanied by pecan cookies.

Exquisite music struck up next to me and suddenly I noticed the man serenading us.

I purposely abandoned my Kindle in my bag, sat back and enjoyed. There was no need to do anything else but that.

When I left the garden with sweets and tea lingering on my breath, my skin still damp from the rain, and a drunken grin on my face…it all changed. The traffic jarred my senses, and so did the man who yelled at me the second I was on the sidewalk.

“Hey! What’s in that helmet? Huh? What’s in that helmet?”

A homeless man, startling the poor tourist families passing by, had a thing for my bright green bike helmet. I crossed the street and hurried over to my bike. He made a beeline for me.

Sure, it’s noon in the middle of a city. But when an unstable man approaches me, I’m on high alert. I’ve been an urban bike commuter for the past six years. As such, I have two survival plans…

Plan #1: Unlock the bike with a quickness, then ride like hell.

Plan #2: Whack the attacker with my bike lock.

This is my bike lock.

He was muttering incoherent things and flailing wildly while I unlocked my bike as quickly as I could. I realized that I would have to face him head on.

I gripped my bike lock in my right hand and stared at him without speaking.

He looked me up and down and said: “Alright.” He showed me what was left of his teeth as he smiled, then he gave me a peace-offering, which he carefully rested upon Silvie’s handlebar.

The brown sugar and cinnamon Pop Tarts.

In Yin and Yang there are opposites which cannot exist without one another. Fire and water. Male and female. Light and dark.

Perhaps me and Pop Tart Man are another example of this philosophy. Or perhaps, I just scored a bag of Pop Tarts.

Home Is Where the Writing Is

Yes, those holes in the Yoga mat were caused by a no-good cat.

Home Is Where the Writing Is.

Silly spin on a cheesy saying? Alright, maybe a little bit.

When I woke up today and looked at my tattered (fourth?, fifth?, sixth?) draft of The Bra Game, I didn’t feel overwhelmed. A goofy grin spread across my sheet-wrinkled face.

Since uprooting my life two weeks ago, writing has seemed like another planet to me. I thought I would be able to manhandle my creative drive and keep the momentum. But already I knew that I wasn’t the same gal I was before The Accidental Spirit Quest.

It’s not that I haven’t been inspired, it just seemed so impossible to become still enough to handle it. To give my writing the attention it deserved.

This week I began editing again. And, it feels really awesome.

The end of this crazy novel project I started a year and a half ago is in sight. Through a full-time job, a 200-hour Yoga teacher training, my mom’s breast cancer, and a cross-country move I am proud to say that I somehow persevered.

Writing was my constant through all of the change, as it always has been and always will be.

I want to take a moment to thank the blogging/writing/reading community. After a few days of getting settled here, I hung out on my pretty new patio and opened my laptop with uncertainty.

Was my blog even still there?

Had it been hijacked or had it run away?

Or, did somebody finally realize all of the monumental gibberish I’ve been spouting in cyber public and hook my neck with a cane to yank me off the stage like a cartoon?

But, there sat my little blog. There you all were. Like a sweet place to come home to.

Getting back into the swing of things has been challenging. Thank you all for sticking it out with me.

I love the way we support each other, laugh our asses off, and share pieces of our lives. And to think…we are from all walks of life, from all corners of the map.

I mean, how cool is that?