sandyb, in HD

Posted on August 30, 2010 by sandyb

Three years ago, I went to musical about changing your life and made a decision, right there in my seat, that someday I would meet and work with the main actor in that show. His name was Stuart Knight.

He’s one of those people you meet and don’t forget. He’s a guy with big ideas and even bigger networks of people who think that life isn’t something you “live”, it’s something you “do” as big and as passionately as you can. And you do, I’m learning, do it this way if you choose.

He’s helping me change my life. And not because my life is in trouble or it sucks or anything, but because he’s a part of the path I’m on right now.

I’m now a member of his network, his team, and we work together, just like I said I would in that seat at his show, when I leaned over to my sister and said, “Someday, I’ll work with this guy.”

Well, here’s what working together looks like (watch the four part video – grab a coffee and hit play, because you’re going on a little detour).

And Stuart, please know how big the love is behind this humble “thank you”.

THIS IS WHERE YOU CLICK HERE.

wedding dresses and vespa scooters: the morning of my birthday

Posted on August 22, 2010 by sandyb

I woke up. And then it was my birthday.

It was raining and my party is just hours away, booked on a rooftop at a Queen West restaurant. “Rain, hm.”

Rob was back from his short trip to celebrate his cousin’s birthday before 9 a.m. He greeted me with a kiss and said, “stay up here, in bed, for 20 minutes.”

When I finally came downstairs, the turkey bacon was sizzling and a hot cup of coffee was steaming on our kitchen island – it tasted like my birthday.

Then, mid-sip, I turn my head to look outside – see if the our adopted neighborhood cats have come for food – and I notice my driveway looks…different.

“What the hell is that?!”

Frantic, I look for shoes… nothing around but my March Jacobs rain boots (just $28 y’all), that I bought on my trip to NYC last May.

So, Rob still grinning, I slam on the rain boots and head outside, taking two steps at a time down our back porch steps.

“Rob! I can’t believe you did this!” I’m rubbing the seat and running my fingers over the handles while Rob tells me that he had the seat changed from black to this sand-brown color, “because I know how much you love that with blue.”

He remembered.

After getting my motorcycle license yesterday, I thought it would be months before I could even start shopping around for one of these. I guess Rob had other plans.

“Want to go for a ride?” he asks me, as he’s showing me how to take it off its kick stand. “But I’m wearing my wedding dress”, I say, but then I realize: I’m waring my wedding dress and there’s a blue vespa in the driveway, just for me. It’s my birthday.

“Yes”, I say. “Good thing I’m wearing my rain boots.”

PS, here the video of the whole thing…

the post that took a year to write.

Posted on August 21, 2010 by sandyb

12:04 p.m.

At some point over the last year, I wrote about how August 21 is like my version of New Year’s Day. I meant it, because here I am having a party for one and watching the clock all “eve-like”. …sheesh, women.

Kidding.

Seriously though, this has been a good soiree: Amy Winehouse (this album, if you’re interested), a hot bath, sandalwood incense, a glass of malbec, my laptop and my ideas for this post. So yeah, I’d say it’s a party over here – just my kind. (and I do apologize for that awful tub-laptop-writer cliche, but it’s applies, trust me.) Treating myself to the things I love to do has been a well-overdue experience, so I’m happy to be sitting here alone, at my party for one.

Alone, you ask? But aren’t you married? Well, yes, you’re quite astute because I am married. But Rob is out in Canadian beach country tonight, celebrating his cousin’s 30th birthday, which was Thursday, but he’s having a two-day party-out-of-town thing, which I was invited to, but thought I’d hang back and treat myself to my favorite things. Besides, Rob will be back before I wake up.

I mean, sure I’ll be waking up alone tomorrow, on my birthday, which is a first in 12 years of relationship’ing together, but it couldn’t have worked out better for me. Here’s why:

I’m not going to lie to you – when Rob first brought this up to me a couple of weeks ago, I was pissed. I gave him the whole I-CAN’T-BELIEVE-YOU’RE-NOT-GOING-TO-BE-HERE ON THE MORNING OF MY BIRTHDAY… MY 30TH BIRTHDAY. But I got nowhere, until he said he “wouldn’t go”; but I could tell that wasn’t where his heart was. He was trying to make me happy, like good husbands do. But why then, did this make me feel like a shitty wife?

The last thing I want is for anyone – especially Rob – to do something for me because they think it “makes me happy”. I mean, sure, it sounds nice, but any time actions are attached to obligation, the meaning is lost, which is why I believe that you should really believe in something to make it worthwhile; to make it genuine and good. That goes for the work I do to the marriage I live in – it has to be genuine… or bust.

So, while “partying” here alone tonight, celebrating the “eve” of it all, I figured out how not to be mad about Rob’s extremely temporary absence: I asked myself how I could fault him for wanting to support his cousin for the very thing that’s been on my mind for over a year now – turning 30.

See, Rob turned 30 in 2008. He’s already been through the “where is my life now?” drama that we all lose our shit over. He knows that rallying your family and friends when you need a little “umph” can do wonders (he learned that with me as his prime example). I believe that I’m part of the reason he’s away tonight – he’s learned the importance of just being there; just being in the right place at the wrong time for someone you love.

Pretty cool, I think. No?

So, because I love my solo time and because empathy seems to be a product of my maturing these last few months, I want this to be the post that starts off this next year (and yes, it’s the same post that just opened in your other window there). I want this very post to be the first post to the continuation of this blog, because it only feels right to keep it flowing, at least for now. So, yes, the blog goes on!

I haven’t figured out all the details yet; in fact, I haven’t thought this through much at all, really, since last week I posted about ending the blog. But I’m just going with my gut on this one, and my gut is saying that there’s a story here (or at least shit that will make you laugh, I think. Life is funny like that).

After a year of authoring this blog, I realize that “reinventing” is something I’ve been doing for years, like maybe 20. From my days as a competitive figure skater learning new jumps to this year when I did things that took me out of my comfort zone, like quit my job and skydive, shaking up my plans is just how I roll. It’s what makes me happy and like I’m in motion, which is a great place to be.

I plan to make mistakes this next year, a lot of them, because I’ve learned that the important lessons are learned in the mistakes; the “wins” are just our rewards for taking the brunt of our fuck ups.

As I sat in the tub tonight, thinking about Rob not being here, this blog, my new projects and turning 30, I realize that I also figured out my goal for this time next year: I want to feel this good about where my life is headed, just like I do right now.

I have promised myself not to take on more than I can handle, so that I can honor the commitments I’ve made to my new business partners.

I’ve promised myself to take part in projects that make me want to work, because I’m no longer trying to “find the job that makes me feel like I never have to work another day in my life..blah, blah, blah. NO. Instead, I’m interested in building the job that makes me want to work harder than I ever have, and love every second of it.

How’s that for ambitious, am I right? But I’m up for it, friends. Yep, I’m finally ready.

Welcome to my world, 30. I’ve been waiting…

(PS, crossed the motorcycle license off the List today and following this project through. Vroom, vroom, vroom..)

things I learned in my 20s: how to live on the edge

Posted on August 17, 2010 by sandyb

I woke up exhausted on Sunday morning. I mean, heavy head, sticky eyes and yawns that lasted longer than four seconds.

“You ready to jump?” Rob asks. “Are you ever really ready to jump out of an airplane?” I ask back, because, really that’s the right answer, I think.

The weather hated us on Sunday – “weather holds” were announced several times, pushing our jump well into the evening. But it worked out. Around noon, as we arrived, I asked my sister, “wouldn’t it be great to jump when the sun is setting? Oh well, maybe next time.”

But then we did. We did jump at sunset.. and it was spectacular. …but let me back up a bit.

I was calm. Although, I expected that. I had made a deal with myself to be collected about the experience, if for no other reason than to remind myself that there have been braver people than me do this a million times, so really, let’s not start crafting the Medal of Honor or anything. It’s just skydiving.

Just skydiving.

I think the minute we start telling ourselves that everything is a big deal, we don’t execute our ideas. Our dreams. Our plans. For years, I convinced myself that I wasn’t “big enough” or “important enough” to do a lot of things. Crazy right? Given that the majority of posts on my blog are about doing things and making my life happen, I really just wanted to tell you that, if nothing else, yes, you can pull yourself out of the dumps; so high out of the dumps, in fact, that you might just find yourself staring at the world you once felt was too big for you, from 13,000 feet in the thin, cool air, thinking about how small things can be. It is possible.

The moment when I let myself sink into the experience and just be 13,000 feet in the clouds was when the door opened and two solo divers did sort of an “alle oop!” while holding each other’s arms and, just like that, surrendered their fears to the sky. Just. like. that. they were flying ...and then it was my turn.

I stood on the edge of the plane, door open, smelling the air up there, and looked down. I couldn’t see the ground, although I’m not even sure I wanted to. I could hear my instructor counting.. “1, 2, 3…” and then, it happened. Forever, I want to remember that feeling of being “pushed” off the edge, into something wonderful, because Lord knows there have been times when I could have used a push. That feeling, I want to preserve.

My stomach dropped, like the way it does when you’re nose diving on a roller coaster, but more intense than that, because the vortex is so fierce. If there was a moment of fear for me, it passed quickly enough for me to just understand that I was flying just then.

With my face pasted to my skull – the winds were tremendous – and finding it hard to inhale, I talked to myself: “just breathe. just watch. just breathe. just watch…”

I didn’t want to miss a moment.

I opted for getting video and photos (I didn’t want to be that guy who doesn’t… Rob) and gave myself a secret high-five for it. The camera man, Eric, grabbed my hand and spun me around, watching me experience this for the first time ever; between him and my instructor (who was on my back) these guys had more than 20,000 jumps. I had one.

One.

But I had it, nonetheless.

The whole experience is just 20 minutes, from the time the small airplane whisks you up into the clouds, to the time gravity pulls you back down again. I can’t even get through mid-town traffic in 20 minutes, let alone make dinner, get a manicure or even take a shower (I like my showers) in that quarter of an hour; but just then, 20-minutes served to be enough time to change me – to shift my perspective, even for just that short period of time, because, believe me, from way up there the problems and fears we have way down here just don’t seem that big.

So, what’s life like back here on solid earth? Well, busy. Back to forward motion. Moving fast. My big birthday party is on Saturday; I sent out invitations, ordered flowers and have my outfit picked and ready to wear. But the “big day” seems like a fun formality now; I feel like this day has happened already, over and over again. I don’t expect to feel any different when I wake up on Saturday, one year older, although I’ll feel like the mission to reinvent myself is complete, at least for now.

A year ago, I was in a different place: scared, confused and hungry for something. Today, I’m still all of those things – that’s how I roll; that’s what fuels me, I guess – but I’ve learned to turn those feelings into actions and progress, not complacency and paralyzing fear. And, after crossing #1 off the List, I can safely say that you can stare at your obstacles, giving them more definition than they deserve or you can rise above them, look down on them …and then dive right in.

***

Thanks to SkyDive Burnaby for giving me that push.