Hyperbole

Don’t promise me something you don’t intend to follow through on. Don’t tell me grandiose stories to be impressive.

I’m sick of your hyperbole and lies. 

I’m sick of your gestures and notions of caring. You don’t care except about yourself and your own inflated ego and I don’t have time anymore to waste.

Sick of all you children . Grow up. Be real. Follow through. Stop leading people you profess to care about on. If you cared your actions would show it. 

Embrace the truth. Embrace love and the beautiful world around you! Wake up and give a shit. You get one life so don’t waste it on frivolity. Is it serving you? Is it serving real happiness and contentment in your life? If it isn’t, then embrace your fear and learn how to be friends with it. Only then can you grow up and be real and authentic. Better for you and better for others. 

Peace love and plants 

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Another year

In general, I dread my birthday every year, and not for the reason of getting older. I enjoy becoming older because there is so much more to be learned and collecting wisdom is a beautiful state of being. 

The process of aging and doing it gracefully is something I truly hope to achieve over the course of my life. And by gracefully I mean by learning from mistakes, becoming more compassionate and understanding, loving harder and forgiving more- especially our own shortcomings. 

Being that we are generally our own worst enemy or harshest critics (unless you’re Kanye West or another equally  unenlightened being), gaining more peace and love for ourselves is the hardest task to accomplish. And by being kinder, more accepting and living towards ourselves, we usually reflect this peace outwardly towards those around us. 

Hippy dippy stuff, right? That’s what you’re probably thinking, but I encourage you to read scientific studies of compassion and mindfulness and you’ll see that it’s not a bunch of new age granola nonsense. 

So I try to be mindful and more loving to myself and those around me. The more I embrace this, the more content I am, even in the face of scary shit. My life is extremely uncertain right now in some regards, and yes it’s scary not knowing when my last paycheck is going to come and if I’ll be able to find another job before that happens. Of course that’s frightening, but I don’t dwell on it and mull over it and stew in my own anxiety like I used to. My reasoning? It isn’t serving me. No matter how much anxiety I have, it won’t change whatever is going to happen. All I can do is be proactive about changing the things that I can. 

And so back to my original point of my loathing and fear of birthdays. My fear is unrelated to the process of aging, but entirely based on the fact that I have had some utterly terrible birthdays. Death, heartbreak, family fueds, anxiety attacks, a quarter life crisis… I’ve had so many weird and awful ones that I dread it. 

Today I turned 29 and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I had a genuinely lovely day. Nothing spectacular happened! As in, nothing spectacularly good or bad. That, with all my past experiences makes for a lovely day. 

I went to work, I had a challenging yoga class where I got a little upset, I had an amazing and quiet dinner with my parents. Now I’m in bed and feeling so grateful for the fact that I’m alive. I’m alive and I’ve made it another year. This means I get to collect more wisdom and the fact that today wasn’t awful just makes it so much easier to see potential and possibility.

So go out there and love harder and live more, especially when things are scary and stressful and crappy, because you too are alive and how amazing is that? You get another day to give it your best shot!
Peace love and plants 

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influences

Quick- what five songs do you remember most from your childhood? And did you like them? Do you still like/dislike them?

Music was a huge part of my childhood. So many experiences are vague from growing up, but the ones that had music I can remember so well. Like spinning around in the La-Z Boy in my living room while Pink Floyd’s “On The Run” played on my parents’ turntable. It was my favorite song and I always thought of alien invasions when I heard it. I remember listening to Paul Simon’s “Rhythm of the Saints” in the car with my dad when he took me to preschool, or eating a donut from Winchell’s on the way to kindergarten and Bob Dylan’s “Desire” was always playing.

My favorite songs and my favorite musicians have changed over the years but I’ve almost gone full circle from where I was at with music as a small child. Pink Floyd, Simon & Garfunkel, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Eric Clapton, and more.

Then I got older and music was still a big part of my life but my interests changed from that of the 10 year old I had been who listened to nothing but Bob Marley. I listened to pop and then alt-rock and now I’m back to rock and folk.

I think of listening to Nine Inch Nails when I drove off the lot with my first car. The first thing I did when I sat in it after signing the contract, was popping ‘The Fragile pt 1’ into the CD player and turn it up as loudly as my angry 18 year old self could get it.

I remember the first music video I ever saw was Fiona Apple’s ‘Criminal’. I was 10.

These days I’m content to listen to all those old albums I remember as background music to my childhood. I’m so glad my parents had the taste in music that they did. To this day, my parents and I can discuss music and I’m grateful that it’s not on opposing sides.

Peace love and plants
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so this is the new year

I should probably be more diligent about updating this blog, but the truth is sometimes I worry that what I have to say is meaningless and nonsensical. This shouldn’t stop my endeavors, but alas it has.

As a teenager I loved to write. I spent all my spare time writing and planning all the novels I wanted to publish with little regard to the feasibility or likelihood of that happening. I did it for the pure joy of being lost in words that I had strung together in a unique structure.

Then I grew up and life happened and writer’s block came with it. One day I just couldn’t write anymore because I wondered how it was that I thought I could write about things I had no experience with. To this day, that plagues me. Maybe it was college that took my love of creative writing and tore it to pieces. Maybe it was working multiple jobs and doing homework and becoming even more disillusioned with the nature of our world.

The validity of what I had to say seemed empty and non-existent.

I hadn’t seen enough of the world, experienced enough of the world, so why should I be able to pen my thoughts out? Obviously, books like Twilight exist so that notion of mine isn’t true for everyone (sadly).

Now I’m nearing the age of 30; close to three decades on this planet and what do I have to say? I can say that I’ve experienced heartbreak, fear, love, awe, joy, and so many other things. My life is just as valid as the next person, and yet I still let my own harsh judgement of ‘where I should be as compared to the next person’ guide me to some degree. Comparison is the devil, it really is.

So this is the new year and with big changes ahead for my life I will vow to give myself a little bit more love and respect than I have in the past. I vow to try to give myself the benefit of the doubt, and to not feel like it’s all my fault or other maudlin bullshit.

I will vow to be as content as I can be and to live in the moment. To be mindful, especially in the face of fear and the unknown. To not judge myself so harshly or others.

So this is the new year and my resolution, albeit late, is to be a better version of myself.

Peace love and plants
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What are you made of

When I created this blog, I intended to update it regularly and to post about my long holiday abroad. That didn’t happen because life is messy. I also enjoy reading other peoples’ blogs so spend time doing that instead of creating my own content.

So on September 1 of this year, I loaded up my Osprey backpack and flew to Germany. I was there for about 10 days and didn’t want to leave. I wanted to wash my clothes but didn’t want to come home to my cubicle. I missed my cat and wished that I had been able to share some of the experience with friends/family. Being alone in a country where I barely spoke the language (yes, most people speak English, but it isn’t the same) for almost two weeks was like jumping into the deep end of a really cold pool. It’s uncomfortable at first, but then you move around and swim some strokes and you’re okay. The minute you stop moving you realize you’re cold and you have to move again. That’s what this travel was like. If I stopped and looked around, I realized I needed more movement. I missed my cat, Sunday brunch with my mother, and texting rude photos to my sisters.

Travel is not about finding yourself. Travel is about peeling off a layer of comfort and finding what you’re made of. When you are faced with a stressful situation, your real self comes out and there’s no exterior mask that you can spend the energy to use to shield yourself.

It’s incredibly gratifying to be so vulnerable and raw and present.

Travel is about being present and learning. You wash away stereotypes that you’ve had about yourself (or others) and I think your heart grows another size larger (like The Grinch).

If more people traveled and saw people and cultures and places they had not been around before, it would be a more harmonious and less violent planet. Differences are beautiful and we should embrace them.

Having to pull myself back from a full meltdown in the DB office in Berlin so that I could use my broken German to speak to the woman who was setting up my rail pass… That was difficult. I think I need a medal for that. Seriously. Everyone there speaks better English than people in America and they’re tri or quadrilingual.

I’ve caught the travel bug. It’s why I was so reluctant to travel in the first place. I wanted to travel but was terrified of the enormous emotional void I would come back to when I returned home.

It was surreal to return. It felt less real than the ten days I was abroad. I can’t wait for more travel.

Next for me is Iceland in Autumn 2016, and then 2017 will be even more epic.

Peace love and plants

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minimalism

I’ve been reading about minimalism lately. It’s making me want to throw out nearly everything I own. The problem is that the things I haven’t tossed in the bin for Goodwill donations in the past few years are the things that are from a long time ago. Very few things I’ve acquired over the past five years have even made it past the maniacal many-bag clutter-my-entire-room-in-organized-piles purges of the past two years.

I want to live more minimally. I don’t like clutter, and yet habits from my childhood of being a packrat still surface from time to time. This is a part of myself I have accepted but don’t particularly care for.

I’ve purged my life of unnecessary relationships with people, unnecessary clothes, books, etc but I still want my space to reflect more of who I want to be than has actually occurred.

So, in less than two weeks when I go minimal with my packing (everything for 2 weeks in a 40 liter pack) for my first overseas adventure, I will be manifesting more of the person that I want to become, and that is a win in my book.

What are some ways that you, dear and probably lone reader, have invoked minimalism in your life for the gain of mental clarity or otherwise? Please comment! ❤

Peace love and plants

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Figs

I’ve developed a rather odd habit. Every time I see a fig tree, I start looking for fruit. I have this bizarre need to forage for figs and I’m not entirely sure what that’s about, but I think it’s a combination between the following:

  1. I don’t want to pay $6-8/lb for fresh figs
  2. Foraging is like a an edible treasure hunt
  3. Figs are my second or third favorite sweet fruit (avocado is a fruit, hence my specification)

In less than three weeks I will be on my first trip overseas and I am hoping to see some wild food to forage in the alps. Perhaps I should get some sort of guide to edible plant species.

I’d like for this humble blog to turn into something more than the insane ramblings of broke-ass vegan. That could be the name of the blog when I actually begin traveling more: Broke-Ass Vegan Travels.

Looking forward to being a dirty hippie for a few weeks in a country where I barely speak the language.

Peace love and plants

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Hello internet!

Eat, run, rest- repeat. This has been the structure of my life for the past year and now I’m adding travel to that arrangement. I’m a foodie, hippie, yogi, runner, nerd, dreamer, and nature lover with a serious case of wanderlust.

I am starting this blog to capture my world. The food, trails, and destinations that I can catalog my life with as a twenty-something woman stuck in a cubicle 40 hours a week.

So hold on to your butts and I hope you enjoy my waffling poetic about how much I love scones and the dragonflies I saw on my trail run yesterday.

Follow me on Instagram @kaleandcoconut

Peace love and plants.

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