Willing to go naked?

“At some point, I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth. If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human being and artist, we have to know all we can about one another, and we have to be willing to go naked.”              - May Sarton

Pondering this quote tonight. I haven’t been willing to write much here in a couple years because it completely freaks me out that work-related people and people I don’t know are here. There — I said it. Now, people, I want you here, I really do… and I need my blog back, ok? It was mine and my girlfriends’ and my grandmother’s for years. I need to be able to just put my own personal truth out here. So before we go on, please know that in addition to being the woman in the suit at the front of the room, I am also a human. Oy, I have trouble with that… our humanity is so inevitably messy and flawed; I prefer perfection. Switzerland was a good choice for me; it’s organized for perfection.

I digress.

I have a cold — the first in months. I bet I got it on the plane. It’s late, and so you are seeing the late-night, stuffy-nosed musings I haven’t been sharing. I’ve warned you three different ways now… enough hemming and hawing. Here’s what’s going on:

Being an expat is exciting. Even just going to the grocery store is an adventure for like the whole first year. Somewhere along the line, though, maybe it was the combination of working from home solo and being an expat (having no social connections whatsoever) this became so isolated it’s not healthy. And this from a lifelong solo traveler. So it’s time to sell everything again and I’m not quite sure how I’m going to do that because this is not Moscow, Idaho and they don’t do garage sales. It’s getting urgent.

Funny thing is, I’m not really worried because it’s so clearly time to move on to whatever’s next. Five years ago when I sold everything but what would fit in a 7×7 box, it was the most liberating thing I’ve ever done. I’m looking forward to doing it again and being somewhere new, working with people, making friends, joining organizations… having a full life again.

First, though, there is a Summit to put on! I have no experience getting corporate sponsors and that’s what’s needed for the European Summit right now. This is getting urgent, too. If you know anyone with expertise in this area, can you please point them my way? Thank you in advance.

Oh… then there’s also that I still have no idea where I’m going when I leave. Hmmm… not really worrying about that one yet, either, because there are so many fabulous places on the planet to go. Looked into round-the-world tickets yesterday. Probably not going to do that unless I get a book deal with a decent advance. Since I’ve sent no queries that’s highly unlikely. If anyone wants to send Laura Nolan of Defiore my way, I’d be happy to speak with her. HAHAHA. I crack myself up! (Let me remind the reader once again, these are the late night ramblings of a stuffy-headed, isolated expat.)

And beneath all those superficial thoughts, in the stiller, quiet, late night hours… here’s the naked bit (from the quote above): I never thought this is what life would look like at 40. Do we all feel that way? I wasn’t expecting it. To me it feels like a failure, though I can see how that must seem ludicrous from the outside. (Oh boy, we’re now in truth-telling territory in a way I haven’t done in a long time here.) The great irony is: this is exactly how I’ve done life all 40 of my years: by the seat of my pants, like some whirling dervish cackling with sugar-induced laughter one moment… all refined, uptown, up-do the next. I like it that way. It’s who I am. Why on earth did I expect myself to become someone else all this time?

OK… that’s enough baring of the soul for one week. Let’s go back to cupcakes and videos, shall we? Thanks for being here. It means so much. Cupcakes tomorrow, I promise.

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