on saying yes

Posted on April 29, 2016 by dallaswoodburn

I’ve written on this blog before about the importance of saying no. Of creating boundaries in your life, and respecting them. Of refusing to run yourself ragged trying to be everything and do everything and please everyone around you. Of saying no to what is not important, so you can make room for what is important.

And this is all very true, and {as a natural people-pleaser} something I continue to work on in my life.

But I was thinking this morning about how saying no is just one side of the coin–how, if we want to create happy and fulfilling lives, it is important to be aware of saying yes, too. Saying yes intentionally. Saying yes thoughtfully. Saying yes joyfully and lovingly.

Saying yes to things that fill us up… and saying yes to things that fill others up, too.

I was thinking this morning about our upcoming wedding, and how loved it makes me feel that the people in our lives are celebrating joyfully with us. All the people who took the time to send us congratulations cards {displayed on our bookshelf; they make me smile every day!} How Dana and her mom made a special effort to take me out to lunch to celebrate. How much it means to me that Allyn’s mom and sister are throwing me a bridal shower up here in the Bay. I mean, everyone is busy enough with their own lives. Everyone surely had reason to say no, to refrain from adding one more task or commitment to their lives, to focus instead on the hundreds of other things going on around them. No one had to do any of this for me and Allyn.

But do you know what? It matters. It matters so much to me.

When I look back on this period of my life in ten years, I am sure there are many details I am not going to remember. But I am going to remember the cards people sent, the lunch with Dana and Lynn, the bridal shower that Barbara and Allyson are throwing for me. These memories are gifts that I am going to take with me the rest of my life.

The funny thing is, especially with sending cards or letters, that sometimes we don’t even remember sending them, weeks or months or years later. But you never know what will be priceless to the recipient. What words will come at just the right moment. My Gramps has kept a condolence letter from John Wooden in his briefcase for the 24 years since my grandmother passed away, and he still takes it out and reads it all the time. Those words on that folded piece of note paper have brought him comfort for decades. It is likely that Coach Wooden did not even remember sending that letter, but it has meant the world to my Gramps. I feel the same way about cards and Facebook messages I got from friends and acquaintances after Celine died. Lines from those messages have become touchstones for me, memorized and recited in my head when I am feeling lonely or sad or discouraged.

I guess what I’m saying is, when it comes to saying yes, it is always worth it to take the ten minutes out of your busy day to send a card or email or Facebook message. Even if you haven’t talked to the person in years. Even if you’re not sure what to say. Make the effort. Say something. Reach out. Because it matters.

Being thoughtful matters. Taking time for other people matters.

It mattered that my parents came to every one of my track meets and basketball games and school plays when I was growing up. I can vividly remember the comfort and calm I would feel when I looked up in the bleachers and saw their smiles. It mattered. Every single one of those days mattered. It would have been easy for them to say no. It would have been easy for them to be too busy with work. They certainly both had many other things on their to-do lists. But they said yes. Again and again, they said yes. They came. And that feeling of comfort and calm and support has stayed with me, all these years later. It mattered then, and it continues to matter now.

My parents said yes to big things, too. Always without resentment, without martyrdom. They said yes and meant it. My mom was President of our Youth Track club for many years, organizing volunteers and running track meets for hundreds of kids {and this was back in the days of dirt tracks and manual timers clocked by humans, not computers} and all this on top of her full-time job. As a young girl, I got to see my mother as a leader in public. She was a woman in charge, running things, making decisions and finding solutions. She was an example for me that you can be kind, yet also strong at the same time. This mattered.

When I was in second grade, my dad came to every single performance of my school play, even though it meant missing covering the NBA finals for his job as a sports columnist. Many people would have made the opposite decision; but to my dad, he was saying yes to what was most important. His actions were his message, loud and clear: my family is more important to me than anything, even my work. It mattered to me then, and as the years pass it matters to me more and more, because I realize how easy it would have been for him to say no. How easy it would have been for him to be too busy to come to a single performance, much less every single performance. The same is true for when my dad surprised me and drove up to San Jose for my Steinbeck Fellows reading, just to turn around and drive right back home that same night {to take care of our family dog Murray.} There were dozens of reasons for my dad to say no to making that 10-hour trip. There were dozens of reasons why it was a hassle, why he didn’t have time, why he had too much else going on. But he said yes anyway. And it mattered. Boy, did it matter. That memory of him walking into the room is one I will treasure for my entire life.

From personal experience, many of my sweetest and most satisfying memories are those times when I said yes even though it would have been easy to say no. That time my friend Janet and I flew across the country for a weekend to surprise our friend Lauren for her birthday. When I took time off work to travel to my brother’s Girl Effect panel and spend time with him in the final days of his MBA program. Planning a bridal shower for my cousin Amanda from halfway across the country in the midst of writing my graduate thesis. Dog-sitting for my parents for two weeks so they could take the trip of a lifetime to Ireland to celebrate their anniversary. Throwing a surprise birthday party for my sweetheart in a San Francisco restaurant. Making a few hours’ detour on a road trip to see my friends Xun and Hai while they were in town. Making the effort to go the book signing, attend the baby shower, throw the party, drive the extra distance… it has mattered, every time. I have been grateful that I said yes, every time.

Which is all to say that we should strive for balance. Saying no is important, of course. I am still working on strengthening my “no” muscle. And it is always better to say “no” than to say “yes” with strings of resentment or bitterness attached.

But I think, just as it is important to say no with intention, it is also important to say yes with intention. Whether I am saying no or yes, I do not want to say either out of selfishness. I do not want to hoard all my time for myself, nor do I want to give all my time away to others. I want to say both no and yes out of my innermost generosity: a generosity towards myself, recognizing that I can only be my best self when I have time and space to breathe and recharge; and a generosity towards others, purposefully going out of my way and choosing to take on more responsibility and effort for those who matter to me. Because they are worth it. Because the memories are worth it. Because acting out of love is what makes life so worth living.

some thoughts on simplicity

Posted on April 1, 2016 by dallaswoodburn

Even though my year of living simply challenge is technically over, I have fallen completely in love with minimalism and simplicity. It is not just a new year’s resolution or a goal with a finish line; it has become a way of life for me. Living simply reduces my stress and makes my life more joyful. By clearing out what does not matter, I am better able to focus on what matters most to me.

I was talking to my sweetie the other day about how this is such a busy season of life with planning our wedding — but even as the words left my mouth, I realized: it is always going to be a busy season of life. There is always going to be an excuse or a reason to justify being busy.

For example, just thinking about the past few years of my life: it was always a “busy season” because I was…

finishing up my thesis and earning my graduate degree
moving across the country to California
starting my John Steinbeck Fellowship
getting to know a new-to-me town
dating, and then entering into a new relationship
starting up my tutoring business
finishing my novel manuscript
editing my novel manuscript
looking for a new apartment to move into
moving into a new apartment with my sweetheart
and now, planning our wedding

I know that as soon as we celebrate our union and no longer have wedding planning on our plate, other things will pop up to take its place: new jobs, new responsibilities, moving again, starting a family, etc etc etc…

When I start to feel frazzled, it is a sign for me to step back. To refocus and remember what I am working towards and what is most important in my life. I have learned that, if left unchecked, clutter will creep back into my life. My mindset will creep back into that unfulfilling frame of justifying busy-ness and measuring my self-worth based on my productivity. Definitely not a recipe for a happy life! When I notice this happening, I gently remind myself to breathe my way back to simplicity.

I have compiled these quotes to turn back to when I need a reboot. When I am feeling tired, stressed out, and in need of inspiration.

I hope they bring a bit of calm and sunshine into your day, too!

beautiful quotes about simplicity

“Besides the noble art of getting things done, there is a nobler art of leaving things undone. The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of nonessentials.” — Lin Yutang

“Most [people], even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finest fruits cannot be plucked by them.” — Henry David Thoreau

“There is no Minimalist Rulebook. We’re all different. The things that add value to one man’s life may not add value to yours. So hold on to that hair straightener, those colorful socks, that collection of angel statuettes—but only if they are appropriate for your life. Only if they serve a purpose or bring you joy.” — The Minimalists

“Give your most precious people your most precious gifts: love, time, effort, and attention.” — Greg Woodburn

{This idea can also encompass all of your most precious things in life: dreams, passions, projects…}

“For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin — real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last in dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.” — Fr. Alfred D’Souza

“Defining routines and systems is more effective than relying on self-discipline. I think self-discipline is overrated. Allowing yourself the option to do what you have not decided to do is disempowering and asking for failure. I encourage people to develop routines so that their decision-making is only applied to the most creative aspects of their work, or wherever their unique talent happens to lie.” — Tim Ferriss

“Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.” — Epictetus

“We can use Twitter and Pinterest and Google+ to enrich our lives and the lives of others, to communicate and share in ways we’ve never been able to communicate before. Or we can get stuck in social media’s Bermuda Triangle, careening from Facebook to Instagram to YouTube, lost in the meaningless glow our screens. We can use our smartphones to photograph gorgeous landscapes, message loved ones, or map out directions to a distant national park (or—gasp!—to make phone calls). Or, we can use that same device to Twitch: to incessantly check email, thumb through an endless stream of status updates, post vapid selfies, or partake in any other number of non-value-adding activities, all while ignoring the beautiful world around us.” — The Minimalists

“Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account.” — John Gardner

Questions of the day:

Which of the quotes above strike a chord with you?
What are your favorite quotes about living a meaningful life?

moving away from fear, towards fiery possibility

Posted on August 24, 2015 by dallaswoodburn

My dear Holly wrote a stunningly beautiful, achingly true piece about grief and love and our friend Céline. I have read it many times since it was published last week, and every line of it resonates. I have been thinking a lot about these lines, in which Holly writes about the new self she is in the process of discovering and becoming:

I hope that she will be like Céline and make friends everywhere she goes, that she will move towards fiery possibility instead of away from fear, that she will view faith and adventure as intertwined.

In all honesty, my natural self can be a fearful person. Even as a child, I was cautious. I liked to test the water before diving into the pool. I would read a book at the base of the tree, instead of climbing its branches. I have never been a wild daredevil, taking risks or acting impulsively or figuring things out on the fly. I am a planner. I like to consider my options. I like to make lists.

Sometimes, I worry too much. Sometimes, I make decisions more as a way of moving away from fear, rather than intentionally moving towards fiery possibility.

But Céline was a fiery possibility type of person. She always seemed fearless. And I so loved and admired that about her. Being her friend made me more fearless, too. The good kind of fearless. Céline taught me that being fearless doesn’t mean you make rash, stupid decisions or refuse to think about consequences. It’s more a mindset of being brave even when you feel scared, of pushing yourself to grow, of not putting limits on yourself. Getting outside your comfort zone, even just a footstep or two. Trying new things. Not labeling yourself or confining your own ideas of who you can be or what you can do.

So, inspired by Holly’s beautiful words, and in homage to Céline, I have been trying to actively move towards fiery possibility, rather than away from fear. Here are just three examples from this past week:

After church yesterday, I led the first meeting of a community circle for young adults in our congregation — a time for people to gather together and have meaningful conversation about their lives. Facilitating this group was intimidating for me. I have never done anything like it before, and worried that my questions would not resonate, that conversation would be awkward or stilted, that people would think I was a fraud, that nobody would come. But it ended up being a wonderful experience. The atmosphere in the room felt safe and authentic, conversation flowed well, and we all go to know each other on a much more genuine level than coffee-hour small talk. It was soul-nourishing for me. I am already looking forward to next week.

I pitched myself for a copywriting assignment in a field I do not know much about, but am interested in and passionate about. I landed the assignment and am interviewing half-a-dozen professionals in the field this week and next week for the article. At first, I felt nervous, thinking, Who am I to write this? These questions are probably silly. What if I don’t come across professionally? But instead of worrying, I made a choice to shift my frame of mind and focus on the exciting possibility of the assignment: a chance to meet fascinating people and learn something new. And I am really enjoying stretching myself in this way!

Last night, Allyn and I went to a 2-hour beginner’s Improv class. Oh my, was I scared to do this! While I generally enjoy public speaking, I have never really thought of myself as an actress and was especially intimidated by the “not-knowing” aspect of Improv. What if I couldn’t think of any good ideas? What if I had a mind-freeze? What if I ruined the scene and let down my partner? Intentionally, I made the decision to push these worries aside and just focus on having fun and soaking up a new adventure. And it ended up being one of the best “date nights” Allyn and I have ever had! I loved seeing him jump into a new endeavor, just as I could tell he was proud of me each time I raised my hand to volunteer and bounded onstage. There was so much energy and creativity in the class, and everyone was very supportive of each other. I was definitely a little nervous/uncomfortable the whole time, but it was exhilarating to get up in front of people and act out a zany scene on the fly. It made me feel proud of myself, and ripped off the label I had always put on myself as “someone who could never do Improv.” Now that label is gone. In fact, Allyn and I are already talking about going back to the class sometime soon!

Here is what I am slowly learning: when you move away from fear, the fear only gets stronger and bigger. You can never move far enough away. It will always cast its shadow over you.

Instead, when you move towards fiery possibility, the joy and sense of adventure soon eclipse the fear entirely. What is left is a bigger and braver and more beautiful sense of yourself.

life is like a wine tasting

Posted on July 30, 2015 by dallaswoodburn

Yesterday, we took a “family staycation day” and drove up to the San Ynez Valley to explore the beautiful vineyards. It was a gorgeous day and we ended up doing a wine tasting at Sunstone Winery, which was absolutely delightful. It was my first time doing a wine tasting at a winery, and got me thinking about the ways that life is like a wine tasting:

1. Each taste is unique and lovely in its own way, and should be enjoyed for what it is. For example, if you expect a pinot grigio to be a merlot, you are going to be disappointed. But if you pay attention to the distinct flavors of the pinot grigio, you are able to appreciate it for what it is. In the same way, each season of life has different flavors — pros and cons, perks and disappointments. Try to appreciate the season of life you are in for all the gifts it has to offer, instead of wishing for a different season. You will get there soon enough, and there will likely be things you miss about your life here and now!

2. Each pour is meant to be savored, not rushed through. So often, it can feel like we are rushing through life: counting down hours in a workday, scrolling through email constantly on our smartphones, yearning for the weekend or for our next vacation. Even meals are often hurried affairs, something we rush through rather than enjoy, or mindlessly eat in front of the TV — have you ever finished eating something and realized you barely even tasted a single bite? In a wine tasting, each taste is sipped slowly and savored. Can you imagine what life would be like if we treated every meal with such respect? Not to mention, if we tried to savor each moment of our day as if it were a sip of expensive wine?

3. The joy of the experience doesn’t come from the wine itself — it comes from the people you share it with. If I had gone wine-tasting by myself yesterday, I would have had an okay time, but I would not have had anyone to share the experience with. Much of the fun of trying out the different wines was sipping them out on the verandah together, talking and laughing and telling stories and discussing our opinions on the different wines. That was where the joy truly came from. Our family visit to the vineyards wasn’t even really about the wine tasting at all — it was about spending time together, enjoying each other’s company, and sharing a fun experience with those we love.

Now I’m off to soak up more family time before we take my little bro to the airport tomorrow for his new job in NYC! So proud of him! (And I’m going to miss him a TON.)

Hope you are soaking up every beautiful moment of this lovely day, wherever you are and whatever you are doing! ❤

learning to lean on others

Posted on March 5, 2015 by dallaswoodburn

In December 2013, I was feeling a bit lost, unmoored, unsure. So much had changed in my life in the past year, and I didn’t quite feel like I had found my bearings. Uncertainties and questions whirled around my mind constantly. So, trying to find solid ground and seeking comfort in letting go, I wrote a list of big questions in my journal:

Where am I supposed to be living in this season of my life?
What am I meant to contribute to the world through my writing career?
How can I give more to others?

In January 2014, I found a church nearby and started attending regularly, because I wanted to be part of a community. More specifically, I wanted to give to others. And my church provides so many amazing opportunities to give. I signed up for committees and went to meetings and added my name to social justice petitions. I volunteered on the dinner crew for Winter Nights, an annual event where local churches provide meals and shelter for homeless families. I began serving as a Worship Associate. The church community welcomed me with open arms, and I felt connected and appreciated and loved.

Funnily enough, after I began attending to my faith and my spirit, other pieces of my life began to fall into place. The other questions I had asked began to receive answers. The Bay Area felt more and more like home. I made close friendships and began a relationship with a wonderful man. Instead of trying to please other writers and critics, I wrote the novel I most wanted to write. And I found a fulfilling part-time job teaching creative writing to children.

In December 2014, a year after I had asked those questions, I felt secure, like I had been given all the answers.

But then, in January, my world was rocked to the core.

Celine died in a car accident.

All of a sudden, nothing made sense anymore.

The past six weeks have been the most difficult time of my life. Boomerang days. Roller-coaster days. I have sobbed and shaken and screamed into my pillow. I have zoned out and filled my hours with busy-busy-busy-ness; I have felt exhausted and stayed in bed most of the day. I have written pages and pages, and I have not written at all for a week. I have tried to be “strong” and I have broken down in public.

I have learned a lot.

I still have many questions. I’m still searching for ways to fit this harsh new reality into my worldview. I’m wondering how this could have happened, if my former guiding life belief — that “things happen for a reason” — is still valid, and if so, how to bring that to terms with Celine being gone. I’m trying to accept that there are things about this life that I will never understand.

Mostly, I am learning how to lean on others.

It’s something I’ve never been very good at, or very comfortable with. I much prefer to be the one other people lean on — the one patting someone else’s shoulder, sending cards, baking cookies, calling out of the blue to check in. I’ve always thought of myself as strong and self-reliant. I’ve taken pride in being a person who is never “needy” or “high-maintenance.”

I’m learning that maybe I *need* to be needy, sometimes. And that’s okay.

I’m learning that the people who love me aren’t going to love me any less because I ask for help or am less “fun” to be around or take up more of their time or call them crying late at night.

It’s ironic that this is the final lesson Celine is teaching me, because she was the most fiercely independent spirit I’ve known.

I’m learning that being part of a community isn’t just about giving to others; it is also letting others give to you, hold you, and take care of you. I do not know what I would do without the support and comfort from the people in my life — my family, friends, sweetheart, church members, colleagues, and you wonderful people who take the time to read this blog and send nice words and love.

Leonardo di Vinci said, “An arch consists of two weaknesses, which, leaning on each other, become a strength.” I have been slowly learning how to lean on others — and you have all held me up, given me strength, and made love and gratitude bloom in my heart, even in the soil of such raw pain.

For that, I want to say two simple words: thank you.

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