On Minimalism, Healing, and Starting Over

[Let's imagine I could find an image relevant to all I'm about to say...]

Okay, can I just get real and honest with you all for a moment? Promise I won't make it a habit.

                        Minimalism as a lifestyle is so freeing; and so far I kind of suck at it. It's like the idea of letting go of things makes me want to hold on to them more; and at some moments i look like more of a hoarder than I was at the beginning of this project. I get all gassed up to get rid of things and then, when actually faced with the task, I feel like my heart is going to explode in a fit of panic. Like, what is this? Really? I want a more simple life, I really do, but I wonder if I'm strong enough to give it to myself. Everything means something. I see the hope I had once upon a time when I bought or received the thing; whatever it is. I knew what I was going to do with it and where in my home it was going to live. I became anxious at the thought of giving up another thing, because 'haven't you lost enough' says my mind. So dramatic, right? I mean I do a pretty good job of diminishing the last eight months of my life to a casual shrug and a conversational footnote, if I do say so myself. The reality, however, is that when I really allow myself to think about the happenings and feel whatever emotion is appropriate for the 'occasion' I can only say that the peace I feel in spite of the circumstances is evidence enough that God is real, and, for whatever reason, my life matters to Him.

Initially, I decided to take on the project of simplifying my life because I just hated not knowing where everything was all of the time. However, this simple project quickly became the makings of a real journey towards healing and re-discovery of a woman I had all but forgotten. I make note of every sensation that occurs when I decide whether or not something is worth keeping and make it a point to push myself just far enough past my comfort zone before calling it quits at the end of each discarding session. I think about my home--the one I lost--and how each and every room still holds evidence that I was there. My mind shifts back and forth from how good it felt to trust my environment and my partner, to how overwhelming it was to determine what I could reasonably move out of the house in the three hours I was given to load up a u-haul that was entirely too small to hold all the things I had acquired in ten years of living on my own. I imagine that's exactly how it feels to lose things in a fire, but in slow motion: In your mind each room will always exist the way it once did, just as we remember a loved one we may have lost.

I sometimes fight back the longings I have for each and every thing I had to leave behind--and work to rationalize why they couldn't make it out 'alive'. I tell myself that 'if those things were the price you had to pay to spare your life, wasn't it worth it?' But it doesn't always help to see it that way. You see, there was no fire, and those things that I worked hard to acquire in my years as a single woman still live there; longing for me to greet them. Instead of bringing me joy, they watch over an inhabitant that will never truly appreciate their real value.

At first the thought made me livid; but then it dawned on me: I may have given up several material possessions, but what I gained in the process was worth far more than any amount of money I spent on those things. I may not have the curtains I love, but my smile came back. And I may have lost thousands of dollars worth of clothes, books, home decor and kitchen conveniences, but I've laughed more than I've cried for the first time in years and the skills that brought me so much joy throughout my life are being restored and strengthened more each day. There can be no value placed on a good night's rest, or a peaceful morning and nothing sold in any store could ever equate to the excitement I feel knowing that I have space in my heart and mind to be the kind of mother my son deserves.

Every choice I make everyday to get rid of something else feels like a silent celebration of the woman I'm becoming. It's also evidence that I'm consciously choosing to keep the pieces of my life that matter so much more; and I am constantly aware that my choice to succeed also becomes part of my son's story. We are more than the things that surround us, and no amount of coveting and greed will fill the void that is reserved for something bigger than ourselves. For me, it's God; and the more I surrender to this process of purging I continue along this journey of minimizing not only my stuff, but also my fears, anxieties, insecurities, emotional baggage and bad habits. You can, indeed, begin again. We all have a story to tell. While it wasn't in my plan to be a single mother or start my life over from the middle of what felt like someone else's story, this has been an incredible opportunity to discover exactly what I'm made of. Use every new life road to explore what breaks you and what builds you up. Armed with the power of your choices, you can decide what direction your life can take. Are you choosing what matters most to you?

xo, august & pepper

Letting Go: My Journey to Minimalism

If you don’t love it, leave it or let it go. For the next six weeks I will be repeating this to myself daily as I encounter every last one of my belongings. One of my goals for this year is to simplify my life. So, of course being the exhibitionist that I am, that means not just organizing and tossing a few things, but becoming a minimalist. Well, at least I’m going to try. And ‘rational minimalism’ at best (reading Simplify by Joshua Becker)—I’m not seeking to deprive us of things we will regret parting with, but to be more thoughtful about why we own something.

I’ve always fanaticized about living in a space that felt open, light and uncluttered; and now working from home more consistently has made the impact of all my stuff more apparent. I have too much. Period. On top of just having a lot of tangible stuff, I can recall the emotional stuff that is tied to some of those purchases. Break-ups, let downs, job losses, deaths, disappointments—each moment in my history has been memorialized with a tangible item, leaving the energy in my home feeling heavy and uncharacteristic of an environment I think best reflects where I am today.

One thing I remember and really appreciate about having lived in Europe is their appreciation for living life outdoors. Home was where you commune and rest, sure, but the world was for exploring and sharing with your community. Children played outdoors, museums and parks were full of just as many natives as tourists and the energy was lighter.

That’s what I want for my son and myself—to have a home that is not only peaceful, but also full of thoughtful and purposeful energy. Every item will be something necessary or loved. I really want him to learn, just as I did, that the relationships you have in life and the energy you bring along with you are far more important than the stuff you own. I believe in showing and not telling; and just as much as I want to teach my Bean this lesson I am partly seeking to acknowledge that I, too, am more valuable than any tangible item that needed to be purchased. I am enough, and so are you.

Make the things and people who fill your life earn their keep. Do they make you happy, teach you something, make you want to be a better you? Or does your smile diminish in their presence and fill you with anxiety? Follow me on this journey and, if all goes well, I hope to have some pretty awesome stories to tell and photos to share.

xo, august & pepper

Daytime Stories | An Unfortunate Celebration of Misery

I recently had a one-sided chat with a friend of mine—so it was more me listening than anything. As she spoke my heart grew sad because, while it was her voice, she didn’t sound like the same person I had known for over ten years. She had fallen in love with the wrong man, and if this chapter of her life were a fairytale, it might go something like this…

There once was a beautiful girl named Sunny from the golden side of a mountain; who grew up to be an even lovelier woman. She was kind, smart, funny, and well-developed in every womanly way. She made boys giggle and grown men cry. She was the epitome of self-confidence, strength and independence. Then, one day, a boy (let’s call him Brown), with as many years as a man (but not quite the level of maturity to appropriately don the title) was introduced to Sunny; and a violently passionate romance ensued. 

Now Brown wasn’t a gentleman, nor was he smart or kind, but Brown was a survivor from a low valley. He was from a world where empathy was akin to death and smiles only preceded chaos, but because he was more attractive than others of his kind he was mistaken for a man of integrity and strength. Brown pursued Sunny until all her guards were down. He made her laugh and she told him stories about her childhood and friends and the hopes she had for her life. She loved Brown. 

Brown, knowing that Sunny was under his spell, suddenly began to play a game with her heart. There were riddles and traps designed to make Sunny second guess the woman she had grown to be. You see, Brown knew that one day Sunny would find out where he was from and what legacy (or lack thereof) he had inherited—being from the low valley. He couldn’t have that at all and knew that his only hope for surpassing his people was to conquer the soul of a golden-hearted woman. 

The games tried Sunny and the riddles outwitted her until one day she fell asleep and awoke the next day not even remembering her own name. Her appearance grew dim, her intelligence waned, and her posture destroyed the well-placed womanly figure that made her the envy of all the ladies of the mountain. Brown had stolen her soul and, one by one, her people turned away from her to spare themselves the grief of witnessing her impending demise. 

Who would save her if she wouldn’t save herself?

xo, august & pepper

How to Meet Men and Make Friends

This is a slight deviation from my usual posts, but I thought it necessary to address as we approach what has seemingly become the Single Woman’s National Day of Cynicism.

Valentine’s Day has definitely become incredibly commercialized, but the day was founded with the best of intentions. Of course card sellers, candy makers and jewelry retailers all over the world profit from such a day, but we shouldn’t allow those aspects to dictate our appreciation for a day designed to celebrate the heart. I can’t think of a person on this planet that would hate the idea of being loved or loving in return.

That being said, I recently recalled a comment made by one of my spectators—you know, the people who aren’t really friends, but watch you and your life for entertainment. I had been living as a single twenty-something just outside of DC and was navigating the dating world again for the first time in three years. This ‘spectator’ had observed me interacting with different men on occasion and said, “You never seem to have a hard time finding a man.” While I could have been immediately offended and curious about whether or not she was 'throwing shade' or just making an innocent observation, it dawned on me that her comment was laced with envy. Had I taken for granted that I make ‘friends’ easily?

I recognize that there are tons of books and magazine articles spanning the decades that tell us how to meet, and even marry the man of our dreams. I’ve read a few myself, and even rolled my eyes a time or two, so I’m not interested in belaboring those points. However, I’d like to share with you what has worked for me. What may seem like common sense to some, might be worth reminding others. So here goes:

1. Smile. Who would want to approach someone who looks like they’ve secretly planted a bomb in the room? Smiling is a universal language that says ‘hey, I’m normal and happy.’ When you smile, it invites other people to do the same, and just makes you prettier. So do it.

2. Make eye contact. Okay, but don’t stare—that’s just creepy. Looking someone in the eye says ‘hey, I see you and it’s okay to say hello.’ Smiling and making eye-contact does not mean you have to entertain everyone who comes your way, but it does say that you’re not angry at the prospect of meeting Mr. Right (or right now for that matter). You still have a choice in who you actually choose to date, but right now you need to meet someone to choose from. So stop mean-mugging every man in the room. It’s ugly and it makes you look damaged.

3. Be confident. This is not to be confused with being snobby or arrogant. No one likes a brat who’s sipping her own kook-aid. Know who you are and what you like, for starters. This prevents you from seeming like a flake in conversation and makes you more interesting to other confident people, but helps you weed out the insecure ones—you don’t want a man who’s too insecure.

4. Be open. No one said you had to marry everyone you meet so just be open to making a new friend. Don’t walk into a venue with the idea that everyone who wants to buy you a drink or dinner is after your undies. You’re more powerful than that, ma’am, so you’d have a choice in that matter after all. So laugh, enjoy yourself, but know for yourself what the boundaries are in your interactions and you’ll be just fine. 

5. Be attractive. This has nothing to do with genetics and everything to do with knowing what you have and how to make it work for you. What colors bring out your eye color? What hair style complements your bone structure? Ever seen pictures of famous people before they were famous? Yeah, some of them were a mess, and not all the fixing included plastic surgery. Learn some makeup tricks and ask a friend to help you style yourself. Believing that you look your best makes all the other components easier to achieve.

Have some advice of your own or experiences worth sharing? Leave a comment below or on the A&P Facebook page. Sharing is caring after all. Let's all work together to help each other become our best, brightest, and happiest selves.

xo, august & pepper

making monday | Sauteed Veggies & Salmon Over Quinoa

Image courtesy of Erin Hawkins

I have some pretty awesome friends and one of them happens to be a chef. Not only did she fill my undergrad memories with amazing versions of fine restaurant dishes, but she continues to tempt me while multitasking our phone convos with meals I hear sizzling from the other end of the line. Here's a dish by Erin Hawkins that might make for a fine V-day celebration at home.

What you need:

1 Salmon filet
5-6 ounces of pre-washed quinoa
Extra Virgin Olive Oil (EVOO)
1 red onion
2 celery stalks
2 cloves garlic
1 half red bell pepper
1 half yellow bell pepper
4-5 baby portabella mushrooms
1 jalapeño pepper
4 kale leaves julienned, stalk removed
1 can chopped tomatoes
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon basil
1/8 teaspoon marjoram

What to do:

Sauté onion and celery in EVOO over medium high heat until the onion is translucent. Salt the onion and celery. Add the garlic, bell peppers and mushrooms. Salt the vegetables. Next, add the jalapeño and kale. Allow the kale to wilt, then add salt. (Note: You want to add flavor in layers so your food will be seasoned throughout.) Once the kale has wilted, add in the tomatoes. Stir, add a little salt, nutmeg, basil and marjoram. Cover and reduce heat to medium low for 10-15 minutes. Add the salmon, covering it with the vegetables. Simmer until the salmon is fork ready.

Okay, I'll be over for dinner!

xo, august & pepper