I don’t really know why, but I wasn’t baptized until I was five.

Given that both my parents were practicing Catholics at the time of my birth, this is kind of strange.

Most Catholic babies are Christened sometime within the first year of life. But, this just wasn’t the case for my younger sister Lindsey and me.

Maybe it was because my parents were barely into their twenties when they had us.  Or that they’d always planned to have another, and thought it best to throw one big party instead of two.  Or maybe, it just happened that way.

Whatever the reason, given my advanced age, I have quite a few memories from that day.

I remember is was hot.  Really hot.  Steamy, tropical storm hot.  It was the summer before I entered Kindergarten – and I remember my father being nervous that the weather wasn’t going to cooperate for the big shindig back at Walton Street following the ceremony.

I remember the matching gray dresses my sister and I wore.  I remember the drive to St. Bernard’s (we made it every Sunday) and the only people in the church that morning (or was it early afternoon?) being my relatives.

I remember my father’s cousins Barbara and Jackie standing behind me, and his cousins Cathy and Jimmy standing behind Lindsey.  I remember being very curious about what it meant to have “godparents” – but I don’t remember asking any questions or understanding any answers.

I remember the white bibs (as I called them) with the red crosses that they tied around our necks.  I remember Barbara and Jackie holding me steadily over the baptismal font, and then Cathy and Jimmy doing the same for Lindsey, as the priest prayed and poured holy water over each of our heads.

I remember the water being cold.

But, not as cold as it was yesterday.

At 8:15 yesterday morning, I ushered in the New Year by plunging into the frigid Atlantic off the shores of South Boston.

Like the day of my first baptism, the initial run-up to the event was dark and dreary.  But without any of the tropics.  Technically, it wasn’t freezing, but when your bare feet hit semi-thawed New England beach sand your internal temperature begins to plummet – quickly.

“Amanda, they’re counting down,” my brave friend Johnny B said.  “Let’s just do this.”

Aside from our naked feet, Johnny B and I had decided to keep all of our layers on until the near final moment of entry.  In record time we shed our thermals and sweatpants and in our summertime swimsuits made a dash for the salty sea.

We hooped and hollered our way down the beach.  Feeding off the adrenaline.  Following our pre-planned strategy.

“I think we should just go as fast as we can,” I suggested on the ride into the city.

“Definitely,” Johnny B agreed.

“In, out, back into layers as soon as possible.”

“Yup.”

And I was on track to do exactly that – until I plunged under the water for the first time.

“Up, up, up,” I said out loud – or just to myself – I couldn’t tell the difference.

And as I hurriedly tried to catch my breath and turn back toward the beach, my legs gave out and I unwillingly fell back in.

There was no thinking involved this time just a frantic burst of energy to get back up.  Out of this ice.

My legs gave out again.

This time, I made a point to breath out into the water.

“Stand up, slowly and taste the salt,” I heard me suggest to myself.

And I did.

I tasted summer.  And tears.  I tasted the air the first night I got drunk at Hermit Island.  And the sweat from the first time I’d done so much more than just had sex.

Then, I was squarely on my feet.

I steadily started making my way back to the promised warmth of a brand new beach towel, a thermal zip-up, and fur lined boots.  That’s when I felt the sun shining.

And all that salt, and all those memories, and all that was, and is, and will be, suddenly felt like it had all been washed clean.

And I all I could think about was my first baptism.  Coming out of St. Bernard’s having just been accepted into a life of faith, and hearing my father say:

“Would you look at that?  Storm’s cleared.  It’s a great day for a party.”

“Wow.”  Johnny B brought me back into the present, as we shivered getting into our socks and shoes.  “That was really…”

“Invigorating,” I said.  “That was really invigorating.”

Feels like a loaded day.

The final countdown to a time that has blessed me with so many puzzles and prettier, bigger pictures.

I didn’t know where to go today.  Where to start.  How to end.  How to go back to keep moving forward.

So, I asked for help.  And wound up at a poem.

It was my favorite project of the year, producing the recording of this poem that my boss wrote.

It’s thoughtful.  Inspiring.  Honest.  Funny.  And it meant a whole helluva lot to be a part of…and that’s why, on this big day, I want you to be a part of it, too.

Happy New Year.

I’m sending you an abundance of Light, Love, Health and Wealth in 2016.

Two sets of numbers.  Two different reactions.

The numbers that came up on the scale yesterday – initially, bummed me out.

The numbers that the host of this blog sent me this morning for my year-end review – initially, lifted me up.

I started my morning yoga wondering why either set still had ahold on me. I finished grateful for all of it.

Thing is, they both represent progress.

Now, my wish may be to accelerate that progress (in both areas) – but, if that’s truly what I want, then it’s just about making a plan to get it done.

Numbers are good.  They crystalize wishes.  Motivate imagination.  And bring plans into action.

For an extremely long  time, numbers (grades, revenue reports, employment reviews, annual physicals, bank statements) held my entire self worth.  I lived in constant fear of them outting me as pitiful.  Lazy.  Diseased.

Every so often, those pitiful pricks still stick me – the difference is now, the pain dulls almost immediately.

They are just reminders (I tell myself) of things I want to change.  And change can be easy.  If I want it to be.

The movie yesterday closed out with a Chipmunk rendition of “Uptown Funk.”

And while Bruno Mars may demand to, “put some liquor in it,” Alvin very cheekily requests more water for his cup.

It was cute.

And, without any prompting from either Mom, Briggs and his best bud Aubrie leapt off their seats and broke out into spontaneous dance in the front of the theater.

Then, Aubrie’s Mom, April and I joined in, too.

The song ended, but the dancing didn’t.

We busted a move until the last credit rolled and the final note played.

Obviously, the dancing wasn’t a planned part of the trip to the movies, but it was my favorite part.

In general, we don’t dance enough.  Ego gets in our way.  But, it’s fun to learn from our kids.

Yesterday these two chipmunks taught me that it’s not about dancing like no one is looking – it’s dancing like someone is…and inviting them to get on in.

(PS Made it out of the movie w/out breaking the Cleanse! :))

Within the last 90-minutes I’ve just finished my first mug of Liver Kick Tonic (the juice of three lemons, two clementines, an inch cube of ginger, and a clove of garlic) and a one-hour Yoga for Beauty session.

In a very short while I will have also finished this post, a shower, my breakfast, and settled in for a few hours of good, productive, fulfilling work.

And in the short window in between, my son Briggs woke up.

Called from our bed (which he crawled into around 2:00 this morning).

“Mum?”

“Yeah, Bub?” I called back from our kitchen downstairs.

“Are we still going to see Road Chip today?”

Road Chip is the latest Chipmunks movie still playing in theaters.

“We are.”

“And, is Aubrie still coming?”

Aubrie is one of his BFFs from daycare.  Her mom and I have also become close.

“She is.”

“YES!  That’s just what I wanted.  AND I’m going to breakfast with Pup, right?”

Pup is my husband’s father.

“That’s right.”

“Oh yeah!”

I hear him slide down off our bed onto the hard floor and excitedly make his way to the top of the stairs.

That’s where he and I met for the first time today.

“Good morning, Lova-Lou.”

“Morning, Mum.  Can you carry me downstairs?”

He’s totally big and strong and old enough to make his own way down – but these mornings are precious and limited – so, I happily complied.

I scooped him up and he nestled his head into that warm nest in between my neck and shoulder.  He smelled like a mix of bed and bath.  I stroked his hair, gave him kisses, and told him that I loved him so much.

“I love you so much.” He echoed.

And it occurs to me – that the best place to try and start to be happy.  Really happy.  Is the beginning.

And, thank God, every morning we are given the gift of another new beginning.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__zTm_xfNNg

I think I’ve mentioned before, that Sunday is my favorite day of the week.

It’s always been a day of hope for me.

To start anew.  Anything is possible.

I had a wonderful French teacher in high school – Madame Howard – who, while handing out the grades from the prior week’s quiz would recite the following phrase:

New chapter, new chance.

There’s rarely been a Sunday since graduation in 1999 that I haven’t echoed the wisdom of Madame.  (Even when I couldn’t hear it.)

This Sunday the mantra takes on an even more grateful tone.

This chapter of 2015 has truly been remarkable.  Complete with bottomed-out lows and natural euphoric highs.  The chances I’ve created to heal, grow, and reroot continue to inspire and rejuvenate.

To honor what was and welcome what already is, I’m starting the New Year with – what Rainbeau Mars calls – a SuperStar Cleanse.

In the past four months, I’ve taken a variety of steps (many of which I’ve written about here) to shift my being.  Cared for my body with yoga.  My mind with therapy.  My energy with reiki.

Now, I’m searching for a way to integrate all of that caring.  To have all of it serve my ultimate Self – so that I can, in turn, best serve others.

This SuperStar Cleanse looks like a good place to start.  Completing it will take some serious shifts in routine and diet.  For example, eating ends for the day at 6P and meals are void of all animal products.

I did a take on Vegan prior to my wedding and absolutely loved the way my body felt and looked.

I’m holding a picture of me on my wedding day and know that, that glow can/is/will be mine.

And at the same time, there’s a quote that’s been following me lately.  Showing up on chalk boards outside of buildings and coffee mugs in check-out aisles:

Courage doesn’t always roar.  Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’

During this cleanse, and throughout 2016 – regardless of circumstance – I will continue to find the courage to try.

(PS – Our wedding photos are hands down my most FAVORITE pictures of us.  Learn about the artists who took them on their Website, Helios Images.  Also, that cake is SO not on the Cleanse – but it was delicious and made with pure love by my Grammy & Cousin Amanda.) 🙂

Christmas Eve.

I don’t know who’s more excited – the four year-old or his Mom.

It’s lovely to be here and revel in this joy.

And as part of my reveling, I just want to say thank you.

Every time I take a look on the stats of this blog I’m blown away.  Thousands of readers.  Readers from all over the States.  Readers in the Dominican Republic.  Reader in South Africa. Readers in my home and from every faction of my family.

For years I convinced myself that I wasn’t a real writer.

Thank you for showing me otherwise.

Thank you for reaching out.  Giving in.  And opening up.

Your presence here remains to be a source of great healing and I want you to know that I recognize and appreciate what you offer every day.

I want you to know that you taught me how to truly (and completely) appreciate.

I am sending you intentions of health, wealth, and love in abundance this New Year.  I’m signing off to devote my entire attention to those closest to me this Christmas, and I can’t wait to jump into 2016 with you.

Love and Light and Pure Gratitude.

Amanda

Charles was the first one to know that I got the job at the Life is Good Kids Foundation.

Following my final interview, he was sitting at his desk in the building’s main lobby and when he saw me walking out all smiles he asked:

“It went well?”

“Very well,” I said.  “I nailed it.  Even if I don’t get the job, which I really think I will, I couldn’t have done, what I just did, any better.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” Charles added.  “It would be lovely to see you again.”

On my first day he remembered me immediately.

“This is wonderful,” he said – walking over to the elevator to key me up to the 9th floor.  “Now, I’ll get to see you always.”

For the first six months of my employment Charles met me every morning with a sweet disposition and authentic kindness.  When I brought Briggs to work he asked him about his favorites books, TV shows, and games to play with Mom and Dad.

And when I went on leave, I was very open with my direct team on what was going on, but I never touched base with Charles…and to be honest, when I left the building that day in mid-September, I didn’t know how I’d ever find the strength to come back.

Thankfully, that strength was revealed to me overtime.

When I did return with a renewed sense of Self, purpose, and passion, Charles, once again, was the first to greet me.

He lit up.

“Oh, Amanda,” he said, “I was so worried.  No one would tell where you were or why, you just stopped coming and it was awful not knowing.”

“I was sick,” I shared, “and the folks on the 9th floor are, and have been, absolutely amazing.  They were just protecting my privacy.  And, mostly, I’m just really grateful to be back and well again.”

“Me, too.  Oh, Amanda, now this is a wonderful day.  Just like the sign says, Life is Good.”

And then, as if no time had passed at all he keyed me up to the office and another Day 1 began.

This morning, Charles and I met in the lobby once again.

“Amanda, thank you so much for the gift.  That was so nice of all of you.”

A colleague had suggested to the entire Company and Foundation that everyone pitch in a little something, so that we could show our appreciation for Charles with a thoughtful year-end gift.

I was happy and honored to contribute.

“Oh, Charles,” I replied, “of course, of course, of course…”  And then, I said what I realized, I hadn’t yet said:

“I want to thank you for thinking about me while I was out.  For always being so kind to me, and for having genuine concern for me.”

This is when my tears started to swell.

“Your kindness came to me at such a critical time and it continues to mean so much.  So, thank you for that.  Truly.”

And then Charles said something that he’s never said to me before – in the most familiar and loving voice – like that of my Papa’s:

“Oh, of course.  I had to.  Of course.  I have to.  Like your card says, this is the Life is Good family.  This is family.  And family doesn’t stop.”

He put his hand on my shoulder and I put mine on his hand.

“You’re right,” I told him.

And then, like every other joyful workday, Charles keyed me up to the 9th floor with a generous smile and a, “there you go, Lady – have a good one.”

And I did – much in part to Charles.

A few weeks back, I got a new car.

My 2008 Ford Focus finally went.  With more than 149,000 miles on it – I’d say I got my money’s worth.

Though, I can’t say that I always treated it like it was worth anything.

It was the first new car I ever owned, but at the time, I didn’t really care too much about or for it.

I was busy.

Busy with work.  Busy with Briggs.  Busy getting from point A to point B.  And the Focus was literally, just a vehicle to get me wherever I was so hastily going.

The Focus was a mobile office.  A cafeteria.  A trash can.

But, it was also a lifesaver.

Soon after my diagnosis of Depression and General Anxiety Disorder, and my employer’s approval of a short-term leave – I crashed the Focus into a parking post.

I wasn’t texting.  I wasn’t talking.  Hell, I wasn’t even listening to the radio.  I just wasn’t paying attention.  Certainly wasn’t present, and couldn’t even see what was truly right in front of me.

I was shaken, but not really hurt.  The car was damaged, but not entirely broken.  And it was painfully clear that I did need a long and meaningful break.

The Focus stayed with me throughout my leave.  Hung on long enough to get me back and forth from therapy – from Reiki- from yoga and much needed visits with my family.

It held on until I found the strength to get back on the road to my joy and happiness.

And once I was on my way, it just very gently let go.  Gave me a clear sign just a few miles from home that it was time to turn around and take the keys out of the ignition for the last time.

And that’s just what I did.

Tonight, when I pulled back in my drive in my brand new 2016 Subaru Impreza (that I truly intend on loving our whole time through together) – I caught a glimpse of my lovely bruised Focus.  Only a few days now before she’ll be hauled away…

And for the very first time in our nearly eight-year relationship, her name isn’t lost on me.

Focus.

That’s what that little commuter car taught me how to do.  It’s how she saved me.

And I’ll continue to honor all of her worthy lessons by keeping my Focus on this practice of love and gratitude.

Today I went to a Mind Body Music and Sound Workshop at the Virginia Thurston Healing Garden in Harvard, Massachusetts.

It was a completely new experience for me.

And pure peace.

The Healing Garden itself is beautiful, calming, and welcoming.  The workshop room – with it’s floor to ceiling windows and soothing eucalyptus colored walls – was artfully set up.  Different colored yoga mats, thickly woven blankets, and earth-toned supportive pillows laid out in a mandala of sorts.

The Musician and Healing Arts Practitioner leading the session was Bernadette Yao.  An exceptional artist, producer, and overall human being.

(I’ve had the privilege of working with Bernadette on various television and live event productions in the past, but this was my first time seeing her lead a healing workshop.)

I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I felt at ease from the moment I arrived.  The workshop was a series of songs, chants, guided meditation, and the playing of crystal singing bowls.

(Until this morning, I’d never seen crystal bowls played and didn’t quite understand how it worked.  If you haven’t either, here’s a short video that will demonstrate how the bowls are played and the tones and vibrations they bring to life.)

I’m usually pretty timid about singing in front of anyone that I’m not related to.  It’s been a running gag for most of my life that I can talk with the best of them, but couldn’t carry a tune even if you Ziploced it for me.

But, at the workshop I decide to be guided by my quantity not quality rule. My part was simply enough to be present and participate – the quality I would leave to the Divine.

After joining the group in singing “In the Bleak MidWinter” and some ancient chants that I learned while in the workshop, I did feel, what Bernadette referred to as, “tuned.”

I felt centered.  Grounded and free at the same time.  Completely comfortable in me – and yet, expansive and open…to everything.

I left happy.  And well.  And full of wonderful, meaningful intentions for the New Year.

Later, while sitting next to Briggs enjoying a meal with my colleagues at our annual holiday gathering, my boss suggested singing a round of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

Many of my colleagues have children and tonight we had a crew of six all under the age of six.  The response to Rudolph was a resounding, “yes!”

The room broke out in song.  Me, included.

Halfway through the first verse, Ken walked in and happily joined in.

And after closing out with the line about going down in history, one of the other Moms looked right at me and said:

“You have an absolutely gorgeous voice.”

I managed not to cry, and thanked her for the truly remarkable compliment.

For my entire life I’ve been telling myself that I can’t sing.  But today, just by finding the courage to participate, I learned that’s just not true.

So, whether it’s Rudolph or just a low, loving Om, I whole-heartedly recommend finding your voice.  Your tune.  Your good vibration.  And when you do, I promise you’ll love how it sounds.

Happy Winter Solstice.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRobryliBLQ