"Something good is going to come from this."

 

Continuing our nomadic ways, we are housesitting in South Lake Tahoe. This wonderful house overlooks the lake. Out the front door are acres of trails, where we enjoy walking with the lovable, furry Ely.

In January, we are moving to a condo, also in South Lake, a house-swap for the whole month.

We've been planning this time in Tahoe for a while. So imagine our surprise when we went to Heavenly Valley Ski Resort to buy season passes--and were told we were three days too late. They'd stopped selling season passes. We were stunned. For the amount we wanted to ski, daily passes would cost an arm and a leg.

We asked to see a supervisor, pleading our case that we'd been visiting Heavenly's website for months and had seen no notification. He said sorry, there was nothing he could do, but he gave me the number of his higher-up.

On our way to the car, I said, "Dave, something good is going to come from this."

That's my mantra when things don't go as planned. I used it when our rental house went on the market. I've used it when we are stuck in traffic. I used it when I found out I had a brain tumor.

It's a reminder that whatever is happening isn't the end of the story.

I wasn't sure I believed it in this case, though. Heavenly is owned by Vail Corporation. I don't care what anyone says but corporations are not people.

As soon as we walked out, I left a message on the higher-up's voice mail: I'm a writer. I'll be writing about our time in Tahoe. Friends of ours are coming to visit who'll be buying day passes. It will be good for business. There was no warning about the deadline. Please have some compassion for our situation. Yadda, yadda.

I texted Suzanne, the woman we are housesitting for who's a big skier. She texted me back, "Well, maybe you could get passes at Sierra-at-Tahoe. It's not as close, but I love skiing there."

Sierra-at-Tahoe? Why was that familiar? Oh yes, we'd never skied there but we'd seen our favorite band play there a couple of years ago. The place was charming. I'd love the feel of it. It was small, tucked away, more of a local's resort. We'd been so Heavenly-focused (for the ease of location), we hadn't thought about that. Yet would it be a pain to drive 30 minutes to ski?

We walked around town and popped into the Visitor's Center to browse. I mentioned to the young woman behind the counter that we couldn't get Heavenly passes.

"You should go to Sierra-at-Tahoe!" she enthused, adding that she worked there for eight years and loves it. She whipped out a map of the resort, excitedly talking about her favorite runs.

Seemed like a thumb's up from the universe to me.

I had such a good feeling about Sierra-at-Tahoe that by the time the higher-up called me back, I almost hoped he'd say no.

And sure enough, he checked with his higher-ups, and there was a consensus: They didn't want our business or our money.

Dave went onto the Sierra-at-Tahoe website. Their passes were half the cost of Heavenly's!

And get this: We have good friends who will be skiing at Squaw in January. We were hoping to join them, all the while knowing we'd probably be paying a lot to do so. But our Sierra-at-Tahoe passes include two free days at Squaw!

The drive to Sierra-at Tahoe was easy. We immediately loved skiing there. There's a low-key vibe. And the runs are really, really long. Like over a mile. So fun.

It's funny. With big things--like my brain tumor and losing our house--I really did believe that something good was going to happen. That the journey would be expansive. But with something small, like this ski pass thing, I wasn't so sure. But that what a mantra's for: to interrupt a habitual pattern of thinking that doesn't serve you.

It serves me to believe that life is an adventure. That what's around the corner isn't determined by what's right in front of me. That whatever I face, something good can come.
 

Letting It Go

Sebastopol flowers

I was on a walk this morning when I realized I'd forgotten my hat. The bald spot on my head needs protection. But I didn't want to go back to the house. I felt like moving forward.

The sun was bright, the Sebastopol sky brilliant blue. I decided to listen to my feelings. Going back felt like pushing against the tide. Going forward felt like fun. I figured I could find plenty of shade on my path--and, when needed, I'd cover my bare spot with my hand.

Instead of fretting about a sunburn; instead of wondering if I should have gone back; instead of beating myself up for forgetting my hat; instead of worrying about the shade/hand equation or inconvenience ... I let it go.

Consciously, deliberately I lined up with my choice to keep walking.

I breathed deeply. I thought about how a little bit of sun energy on my head is good. I felt my body from the inside-out and thanked it for being such a powerful healing machine. I thanked my legs for ambulating, and my heart and lungs for effortlessly doing their jobs.

I looked out at the beauty of the day. So much green and blue! A hummingbird. A cat in a window. Dahlias and daisies and funky art in people's yards.

A car approached. It was our friend Lee with my be-hatted husband, Dave, in the passenger seat. They pulled over. I asked Dave if I could borrow his hat. He handed it over.

It may be a little thing, but it seemed I was gifted this hat out of the blue. Once I let go and filled myself with appreciation and flow, the gift appeared.

It's beautiful to know how to line up with my decisions. I love trusting my intuition.

Maybe it's about ungripping. Maybe it's about being where--and who--I truly am.

Maybe doing this regularly with the small things makes it possible to do it with the big things, when they come.

The Secret to a Happy Life

Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.  

- George Bernard Shaw

What is "finding" ourselves, after all?  We are where we are.  There's nothing to find!

I guess I could be "there"...but that would still be "here."  (credit)

Shaw's right:  There's a lot to be said for creation.

The secret to a happy life, in my humble opinion, is a two-parter:

1.  Cherish the moment, and 

2.  Be excited for the future.

Part 1 is focusing on being.
Part 2 is focusing on creating.

This equation allows me a beautiful balance.  When I'm cherishing the moment, I'm really here.  I smell, taste, touch, feel, appreciate the richness of life.

And when I'm excited for the future, I'm wondering, imagining, exploring and reveling in all the possibilities life holds.

If my thoughts about the future are fun, joyful and productive, I bask in them.  If they bring me anxiety, I focus back on the present and remind myself that the future and the past are just thoughts.

If what surrounds me at the moment isn't pleasing, I luxuriate in thoughts of the future knowing that everything, no matter what, changes.

View of the Grand Tetons from our river raft trip down the Snake River (photo by Dave)

I find that the more I appreciate life, the more exciting things there are to look forward to.  It's like being on a raft floating down a river and feeling the sun, smelling the water, viewing the light and wildlife and trees--and knowing that whatever comes around the bend will be another amazing sight to see.

Don't Worry About a Thing

We keep hearing this song like a message from the universe.


It pops up on the radio in our car.  One of my Pandora stations plays it often. We danced barefoot in the sand when the musicians at our reception played it.  And again we danced to it when the band played it at a Hawaiian house party.

These lyrics are central to my view toward life:

"Don't worry about a thing,
'Cause every little thing gonna be all right."

Every time I hear the song, I'm a little extra grateful for everything that has led me to know the wisdom of these words.

Hakuna Matata Beach

Another song has become part of our Hawaii repertoire.  We had such a lovely day at Hapuna Beach that we renamed it "Hakuna Matata Beach":

Hakuna Matata!  What a wonderful phrase...
It means no worries for the rest of your days
It's our problem-free philosophy
Hakuna Matata! 

Bottom line:  Worry never solved a problem.  It's taken me years to understand that when a worry pops up, I can gently direct my thoughts elsewhere:  to a possible solution, to appreciation of something else, to the gentle acknowledgement that, indeed, everything will be all right.

Of course it's easy to feel that way on my honeymoon in Hawaii after such a perfect wedding surrounded by so much love.

But now I'm being reminded that appreciation of life isn't about experiences.  It's about feeling.  When I'm worried, I'm pushing life away.  When I know that "every little thing's gonna be all right," I'm embracing life.

Thanks Bob Marley and Elton John, for the musical soundtrack to a happy life.