Good Life Project - Mari Andrew | My Inner Sky

Episode Date: March 4, 2021

Mari Andrew is what I’d call a flaneur, she navigates the world in search of moments of discovery, wonder, serendipity and connection. That novelty often drops her into those flickering moments of aliveness - that is her muse. It’s found an expression in the form of beloved illustrations and words on her Instagram account with a community of more than 1M people and her first book. But these last 4 or 5 years have led Mari into entire seasons of deep struggle, reflection, and, ultimately, revelation that’s taken her from park benches in New York’s East Village to hospital wards in Spain and random alleys in Rio. In her new book, My Inner Sky: On Embracing Day, Night, and All the Times in Between (https://amzn.to/3bi0NIJ), Mari shares some of these moments, from an illness that temporarily paralyzed her in a foreign country to finding home within herself again and seeing the world anew. It's a call to spend more time finding grace in the truth of whatever life brings you, rather than wishing and waiting for things to change. You can find Mari Andrew at:Website : https://bymariandrew.com/Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/bymariandrew/-------------Have you discovered your Sparketype yet? Take the Sparketype Assessment™ now. IT’S FREE (https://sparketype.com/) and takes about 7-minutes to complete. At a minimum, it’ll open your eyes in a big way. It also just might change your life.If you enjoyed the show, please share it with a friend. Thank you to our super cool brand partners. If you like the show, please support them - they help make the podcast possible. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

My guest today is Mari Andrew, and she is what I would call a flaneur. What does that mean? Well, she kind of navigates the world in search of moments of discovery and wonder, serendipity and connection. Novelty that drops her into those flickering moments of aliveness. It's her muse really. And it's found an expression in the form of beloved illustrations and words on her Instagram account with a community of more than a million people and her first book. But these last four or five years have also led Mari into entire seasons of struggle and reflection and ultimately revelation that has taken her from park benches in New York's East Village to a hospital ward in Spain and even random alleys in Rio.

In her new book, My Inner Sky, Mari shares some of these moments from an illness that temporarily paralyzed her in a foreign country to finding home within herself again and really seeing the world anew. It's a call to spend more time finding grace in the truth of whatever life brings us, rather than wishing and waiting for things to change. So excited to share this conversation with you. I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is Good Life Project. We'll be right back. You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight Risk. The Apple Watch Series X is here. It has the biggest display ever.

It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required,

charge time and actual results will vary. Something jumped out at me that I wanted to ask you about. So I think when we first started dancing together was shortly after you were on Instagram and you were posting really regularly these super cool illustrations. And oftentimes there'd be like words or thoughts in the illustrations and then a caption. And my initial sense of you was like, oh, cool. She's sort of like an illustrator who is adding words to the art to give it a bit of context. And the words are pretty cool and compelling too. And then over time,

like that started to shift. And then I dive into your new book and I'm like, I got it totally wrong. Like you're a writer who happens to illustrate too. And my curiosity was whether that's always been there and it's just emerging or whether you felt sort of like an evolution over these last few years to that. It feels so good to be called a writer. It feels so good to be called the thing that you feel aligned with. That's a really good feeling. I always wanted to be a writer. And I kept getting rejected for my writing. I just could not figure out how to be a writer. It was not happening. Nobody wanted it. The only thing I knew how to write were these kind of personal

essays. A lot of them were about my travels and my kind of foibles growing up and these just little fish out of water anecdotes that I love writing and nobody wanted them. And so I looked to Instagram to do kind of shorter bursts of self-expression. And that came out in illustration, which was something I was brand new at. I never wanted to do that. Didn't think I could, didn't know how, didn't consider myself an artist. And then I got to be known as an illustrator. And then there was a really like a day when I realized, wait, I'm a writer and everyone knows me as this other thing. How do I change that? Oh, I start writing. I just start writing. I've got this platform now, which I'm so grateful for. I

have people who seem kind of interested in what I have to say. So I'm just going to start writing because that's what I do. And, you know, some will leave and that's fine. And some will come along with me and that's beautiful. But this book was such it was such a gift to just be able to write as much as I wanted. Yeah, I mean, because the other thing that jumped out at me was, your voice as a writer is so well developed, that it was crystal clear that you didn't make this shift in the last few years. So kind of, you know, because I'm reading, I'm like, this is gorgeous. And the thoughts are really deep, but also, because I'm a writer also,

so I'm always sort of like obsessing over craft. Yeah, of course. And I'm like, the level of craft in this writing is something that doesn't happen in a couple of years. It's something that generally happens in a couple of decades, which is why I was kind of curious. I was like, has this just been this hidden thing that's been like the deeper through line through all of this? And now, you know, it's really emerging to take the lead.

Oh, thank you so much for saying that coming from you. That means so much. I love your writing and communicating in general, you're speaking and that that's such an honor to hear. I mean, yeah, the writings only really existed on a blog spot or Zynga or whatever blogging platform there was at the time that I had to use. But I have been practicing for a while, or at least practicing to kind of let the ideas flow as Liz Gilbert would probably put it, you know, practicing just sitting in a chair and letting it come out. So yeah. So for those who don't know, sort of like the bigger backstory, or at least a major inciting incident for a lot of what's happened over the last five years or so, probably makes sense for us to fill in at least one really major gap, and then we'll drop into some of the other ones along the way. But you're kind of living your life, building your career. You have a gene in you, which I sort of call the Flanor gene. You know, you love to travel, you love to be in different places, and, and often

alone. At least starting out alone, even though you end up in many different conversations and interactions. And that finds you a small chunk of years back, dropping into Granada in Spain. So paint the picture a little bit of what takes you there originally. And then let's explore what happens when you're there. Yeah, Jonathan, that is a story that's kind of evolved over the past few years as I've thought about it. I think it's now four years ago. It feels like it was yesterday, of course, when I got my first book deal, which was just such a dream. And I decided to write the book in Spain because why not? And a few things drew me to Spain. I was going to take flamenco classes while I was there every day to pick up a new skill while I was doing something I've always wanted to do, which is

work on this project. And while I was there, I got an autoimmune disease called Guillain-Barre syndrome, which strikes totally randomly and paralyzes most of your body. So I spent a month in the hospital in Granada. And this is a condition also where it's not a slow onset for most people. Right. It's almost like you blink and one day you're fine. And 48 hours later, you can't move your body. Exactly. Exactly. And I think that's where I would pinpoint kind of the traumatic element of it is that it really is so fast. It comes on very quickly, just progressively getting weaker throughout, you know, yeah, a course of two days until suddenly you're mostly paralyzed. And as a young, healthy person that it was just such a shock. And I didn't realize how much I used my body for all of these things that I love to do. There was

never, I never had the idea that I could that I could lose the things that I thought really contributed to my identity. So I just spent years of my 20s really discovering who I was and getting to know myself through traveling alone and learning to draw and learning to write and doing all these physical things, not snowboarding, but these things that I like to do, going out into the world, meeting people, all these physical things, not snowboarding, but you know, these things that I like to do going out into the world, go meeting people, you know, all these very physical things. And then to suddenly lose all of that in a day, um, was, was quite the shock. And, um, fortunately it's a, it's a disease that can be, um, if you, if you get in quickly to a hospital, can be managed pretty well. And I was on my way after a month, able to walk again.

But that's when the recovery process set in. And I found that to be significantly harder than even being paralyzed in a hospital. Yeah, I mean, you write about this so compellingly, you know, that we love to, we love to live in this binary world, where everything is clearly good, everything is clearly bad, you're either recovered, or you're not, or, or you're making definite progress towards this one thing with with a clear outcome and some sort of identifiable timeline. And it sounds like beyond the trauma of this one experience, beyond you being dropped into

this extreme part of it where you have no idea if you actually ever will get back to, quote, the place you were before. And then when you get out a month later, you're just kind of existing in this in between space. Right, exactly. Yeah. And I found that to be profoundly lonely. I think the loneliness came from not really being able to articulate exactly what was happening. It felt like people around me kind of, for their own comfort, which is so understandable, wanted to put me in either place, wanted to put me in the sick category, which comes with it so many projections of that you're suddenly wise, you're suddenly grateful, you're suddenly this kind of saintly person, you're infantilized in many ways, or you're healthy, and now you're suddenly grateful, you're suddenly this kind of saintly person, you're infantilized in

many ways, or you're healthy, and now you're this survivor and a warrior and bursting with gratitude and kind of a new person. And I didn't feel like either of those. There were days when I felt really weak and very frustrated and angry and why me and completely self-absorbed and resentful, jealous of my friends. And then there were days when I would have that kind of bolster of resilience come in and feel like, wow, I'm really learning some things here. Maybe I'm getting better and I'm going to do this next. And this hope that was almost overwhelming. And I didn't really know how to articulate either. And it seemed like as soon as I would articulate one, that's the box that I was put in. And anything that deviated felt uncomfortable to other people, but also felt uncomfortable to me

because I thought, am I sick or am I well? What am I? What is this place? It made no sense to me because I thought, am I sick or am I well? What am I? What is this place? It made no sense to me and completely nonlinear. Yeah. And I mean, you know, from the outside looking in also, there's the way you feel, which is you feel the expectation of people wanting you to be one way or another. You feel your lived daily experience of having no idea. And then also that expectation, I think very often it comes from so many folks on the outside who love you and quote, want the best for you. Yet they're really confused about how to relate to you because you're kind of not the same as you were. Exactly. Yeah, exactly. Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about renewal lately as we collectively hope for and approach

what people are calling a new normal. And I know there's a lot of issues with that phrase because it will really be in a new world. And I've been having these flashbacks of approaching full health, but not actually remembering what it was like to be healthy before. So it actually felt like I was becoming this new person. And I think to my friends and family, they would think, oh, approaching health means I'm going to be the person I was six months ago. But I didn't feel like that at all. I felt like I'm actually a new person. And I was reading a lot about PTSD during that time because I felt like I could really relate to a lot of the symptoms. And that's what they said over and over. You're actually a new person. People think that after you

go through a traumatic experience, you're going to somehow kind of go back to your old self in a way. There's going to be this U-turn. And instead, you actually are a new person. You will have a new life now. And of course, that makes people uncomfortable because you were their friend who was acting one way and had all these ways of approaching the world and this really distinct perspective. And that's how you've known them. And then they go through this thing they didn't ask to go through. And you're know, you're supporting them in these traditional ways, which tend to work pretty well. And then suddenly, there's, like this new person who is confused and getting to know their new self. And that's, that's hard for everyone. That's really difficult for all parties involved to go through.

Yeah, it's sometimes it's, it's, um, I wonder whether sometimes people avoid therapy because couples therapy is what springs to mind immediately because participants are kind of like, things aren't really bad. Things aren't really good, but things aren't really bad. And what if this breaks things on the level where, you know, it makes us no longer compatible or it actually brings to the surface, the fact that we never were, um, and we need to move forward in some way, shape or form. How do we relate to that? How did, what's the quality and nature of that relationship moving forward, if at all. And sort of like, I think when you're dropped into, whether it's a severe health, um, experience or psychological experience, it's like the model of your world becomes shattered.

Like the pieces are on the floor and you don't put them back together in the shape of the puzzle that was. You know, you put them back together in the shape of the puzzle that now must be. And that's kind of terrifying. Yes. Yes to all of that. Yeah. As you're talking about that, it made me think about how brave you have to be to have a truly intimate relationship with anyone, friend, coworker, whatever, spouse. And there's really nothing that takes more inner courage than intimacy, you know, like breaking down those walls that keep a sense of normalcy and keep things in the status quo. And then you break those down and you can forge something so beautiful out of that. But man, that's, that is tough. That is really tough. And that

happens with your own self too. When you think I go about the world in this way, I've built this structure for myself. I am a person who does this. I am a person who doesn't like this. And then suddenly that's all taken away. I mean, sometimes overnight, and then you're kind of in this field having to make a new structure from scratch. And it's so scary, but can be so beautiful, of course. Yeah. And I mean, in the context of what you moved through, and probably honestly, are still moving through to a certain extent. You know, this was four years ago ish, when it initially happened. The recovery you described is kind of like, well, you know, this was four years ago ish when it initially happened. The recovery you described is kind of like, well, you know, then I started went through recovery, but this was a process of, you know, we've talked, we've been talking a little

bit about the psychological and emotional recovery, but also physically. I mean, you go from being completely paralyzed and it wasn't like, okay, when this thing finally gets flushed out of my system, I'm fine again. I mean, you literally physically have to reclaim your body from the smallest steps, you know, getting back to a person who loves dancing and a person who went to Spain in part for flamenco, which is about one of the most aggressive forms of dance that you could embrace. And it was, it sounds like it was, it was not just months long, but really probably years long until you, you like that physical shift really came as full circle as maybe it is now. Yeah. Yeah. I think it was at least two years really. And thinking about that, how, yeah, I was doing flamenco every day. It's this incredibly physically demanding exercise. And then I had to watch little kids walking because I couldn't remember how to walk.

I couldn't remember if you put your heel down before your toe. And so I'd watch the way that toddlers walk because they had about as much strength and practice at it as I did. It wouldn't be my new body. And, you know, it's so incredibly humbling to to be a dancer and to be someone who travels by herself and then has to watch little kids learn how to walk and, and know that there are many spaces that are no longer hospitable to me. There's so many places I can't go comfortably. That was such a depressing time. And there were days when I thought, am I just never going to enjoy walking again? Like, is this always just going to be really unpleasant for me? And those were the hardest to work through. And then working through that, and then having this sense of survivor's guilt, especially when I moved to

New York. And I thought there's so many things that I wouldn't be able to do, kind of feeling like I owed my past self some kind of guilt or misery. It was like I was battling between these two selves that hadn't really yet met each other. And that was the emotional aspect of recovery, which was totally surprising and really hard to articulate in the moment. Yeah. And I mean, the two things kind of have to happen in lockstep to a certain extent, the physical and the emotional slash psychological. And at the same time, you're in a different country, not the best Spanish speaker from what I recall. Yeah. Funny. I've lived in many Spanish speaking countries and I've studied it for many years. Still not great. So kind of getting by.

But also, you know, I'm curious because, you know, it sounds like you're in this weird window too where you were in New York before. Like it's kind of like this is the dream place where you wanted to be. You have a most definite classic love affair with New York City. Yeah, yeah. You know, then you travel alone to this other country, which is fairly normal for you. It's just what you love to do and quickly you find community and people there. When this

happens to you and you're recovering, on the one hand, I imagine the sense of loneliness becomes amplified because you don't have your community immediately there. And you don't have a, you're not just immediately fluent in the nuance of the language and how to express yourself, even once you start to gain the ability to move your body. And, but on the other hand, I also wondered if there was any sense of relief in those early days in that you could kind of dance with these fierce gremlins without the people who knew who you used to be immediately present that then came back to you once you finally came home. And then you're with your mom in Baltimore for a while, but eventually you go back to New York. And I was

almost wondering whether in that early time, it was like this dueling experience of this is horrible. And yet in a weird way, I'm also, I have more space. I have more room to be where I need to be and who I need to be in this moment without having to think about or worry about what eventually those people who knew me the way I were are going to feel. Yes. I love that you asked that. It's a beautiful question, Jonathan. I certainly relate to that. And I don't know if I would have come to that. It's a beautiful question, Jonathan. I certainly relate to that. And I don't know if I would have come to that alone. But in hindsight, yes, absolutely. I'm sure that you know, you travel a lot when you're in another place, especially a foreign country, you're kind of a different version of yourself to begin with. You can get away with a lot, you know, emotionally and maybe mentally that you

wouldn't normally in your home. You know, you're thinking differently. You're already an outsider. So there's a bit of, you know, anonymity that's kind of thrilling. And then you already have this kind of built in, oh, well, I'm different from everybody. So I might as well just do this different thing. Or there's something I really like about that when I travel, especially alone, where I can kind of be a different person for a week. And so I already had a bit of that. Spain Mari is very different from America Mari. And so having this really profound traumatic experience with illness there,

I could be kind of this, almost this heightened version of myself that I don't know if I would have allowed myself to be. I let every emotion through. Every emotion that I had was fully expressed and felt. A lot of that is because the hospital staff didn't speak English and I could just kind of let it out and no one even knew what I was saying. So it was fine. I would cry a lot. I'd get really angry. And there was still that kind of protection of, you know, the traveler who kind of feels like a different person. But there was space to just fully, fully let it out and fully embrace all that I was feeling. I think probably if I had had regular visitors to my room, I, my friends, especially, um, I wouldn't have let that come out.

I think that I probably would have performed for them as I think that a lot of sick people do subconsciously. They, they are kind of expected to perform these certain emotions and these certain, you know, ways of working through their illness. And I really had full permission to just let it out, which in hindsight was was kind of a gift, really. Whether you're in your running era, Pilates era or yoga era, dive into Peloton workouts that work with you. From meditating at your kids's game to mastering a strength program, they've got everything you need to keep knocking down your goals. No pressure to be who you're not,

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So you move through that, you end up back in the States, your mom comes and she's with you, you end up back in her and recovering for a while. And then eventually back in New York and like you said, not getting back to your old life, but figuring out, okay, so who is Mari now? You know, like, and what is, what is this life, this place that I so love?

What is it? But it seems like also you write about this, there's sort of like an interesting reflection on really sitting with this notion of, well, there are kind of two ways to tell any story, right? There's the magic way or there's the mundane way. And it seems like when you're stepping back into some new version of life, you know, that that lens can frame not only how you're moving forward, but also what you've just been through. Yeah. Yeah. That was such an interesting time. I actually, I was living in DC before and then went to Spain and then moved to New York when I was feeling well enough.

And so every part about that new life was completely new. I was this wide eyed new New Yorker, just absolutely enamored. And then working through this thing that I think probably a lot of my friends thought I had already worked through. You know, I was kind of done with my illness. I had chosen to move to New York at this time, thus signaling, okay, I'm ready now. I'm done with that. Whereas I was still really working through it in a number of ways. And there was something kind of beautiful about seeing it through that lens and still going through a lot of this post traumatic sorrow. I felt really connected to everyone I saw because I was from the outside,

you know, looked totally quote normal, looks like my old self. Of course, I bought new clothes for my New York adventure. I was probably the most colorful, fashionable version of myself at the time, really excited to be in the city and doing these things I always dreamt of doing, but still having trouble walking, still having trouble adjusting to life, still feeling self-conscious when I was on a sidewalk where people were walking really quickly and thinking, I am a fast walker. I just can't totally do it right now. And still having a lot of sadness over my experience of being in a city, even a couple months prior and how inhospitable it was and how difficult it was and feeling all this empathy for people with disabilities and carrying all of that while I'm out at parties, you know, having fun and being being totally dazzled by everything. So I think it gave me this sort of really beautiful tenderness toward everyone just constantly thinking, what are you going through? And what are you going through? And what are you going through? Which is a really nice way to go about moving through New York, because it's not

always a really pleasant experience. And I think having that increased tenderness right when I moved actually did make the city feel a bit more magical to me, because I felt so in touch with everyone without their permission. I was, you know was projecting all kinds of things, but I was always wondering, what is going on with you, mister? And really feeling that full human relationship, even with strangers. Which is normally the exact opposite of how the average New Yorker moves through the day, which is don't eyeball anyone, keep your head down, walk quickly and pretend that nobody else exists. Exactly. Exactly.

They're just props. Yeah. I mean, it, that's so interesting when you sort of, through your lens of experience, it gives you this, it's like it, it installs, you know, like the empathy module, you know, and the volume gets turned up to 11. Does that stay up? You know, I've been thinking so much about this, because, again, we're, you know, we kind of see the light at the end of the tunnel of what we've been through the past year with the pandemic, even if that light is still months away. And a lot of people are saying, I'm never going to take certain things for granted again. I'm always going to appreciate being able to see my friends. I'm never going to walk into a restaurant and not want to kiss the ground or whatever. And everyone's different. Everyone has their own life. But as someone who lost

the ability to live the life that I loved, I wouldn't say it lasts too long. I wouldn't say that appreciation lasts too long. I think, you know, we go to equilibrium. We have to. I mean, humans cannot exist in a state of being grateful for every single thing. We never get anything done. You know, you kind of have to you have to put in some kind of routine. Things have to become normal. I think that's beautiful. And it's it's also lovely to appreciate the normal.

That's a beautiful thing, too. It's nice to appreciate not appreciating things. You know, it's nice. It's a luxury to think I can just go about my day and I don't even notice what's happening until later. But yeah, that really heightened empathy. Unfortunately, I personally experience it mostly when I'm going through something really difficult myself. So heartbreak, grief, in this case, illness, or even when I have a cold or something, and I'm so aware of how much, you know, people might be

suffering around me. When I'm in that place, when I'm really lonely, you know, that is my squishiest, most tender place. I feel like this little cotton ball, who's just absorbing the pain of the world. And that tends to be a really lush, creative place for me. I don't love to contribute to the trope of the tortured artist, but there's something very real about feeling your fullness of humanity when you're in those really difficult places and really feeling it for other people too. And that is something that, you know, is a benefit of going through these really dark times. There is so much beauty there. I often say I see so much better in the dark, you know, like when the lights are out, that's when you can really see certain things. And when you're in that heightened space of empathy, yeah, it doesn't last forever, but it is a pretty lush and potent place to be. And I wish that we as a society really embrace that more instead of trying to pretend the darkness doesn't exist or trying to get out of it as soon as possible. Yeah, no, I completely agree with that. It's so interesting to hear you say that

because, you know, I've read so much of your work over the years and we've talked and but as I was reading this latest book, I literally jotted down a note and it was two words and it was savoring melancholy. And then I start to think back about you over the years. And it feels like there is something in you that maybe doesn't rush towards it. But you also don't avoid it. And I was wondering whether a part of that is that you have this internal reframe that says, there's actually nothing wrong with this. Maybe if it's melancholy that slides you into a really dark space or a real depression and keeps you there, yes,

that's not a good thing. But this sort of baseline, just more like the classical melancholia definition is, it seems like that's something that you've really found peace with and you almost welcome because there's something in you that says, this is going to give me access to something that will be valuable. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. I love that.

I often get asked what inspires you, you know, what inspires you the most. And I always think, could we phrase that a different way? Because I don't really know what you're asking. But if I were going to take it as a literal, what inspires me, it's often things I don't like. And I will often write or make art as resistance to something I don't like. And in this case, I don't like positive thinking. Doesn't work for me. So most of my life, I have been a friend to melancholy. And I have found creativity in these difficult times.

I was really lonely as a kid most of the time. I didn't have a particularly joyful childhood. And all over, I'm being told to have a positive mindset, to chase happiness. And I think, don't I have the right to feel this way? Don't I have the right to be lonely? Don't I have the right to feel melancholy? This is a human, right? It's a human experience. It's so human. And isn't there something we can find here? Isn't there something that this is telling us? We all feel it. We all feel loneliness all the time throughout the day in so many different ways. We all feel these shadows of ourselves, this jealousy coming out,

or this comparison, or this anger, or whatever. And doesn't that belong as much as happiness? And so I felt like for the past few years, especially as I was experiencing this prolonged melancholy after illness, I kind of wanted to stick up for it. I wanted to say, doesn't this belong to, isn't this a part of life that's worth at least attending to? It's worth our attention. And I think we put a lot of our attention on happiness. But what if we gave that same attention to sadness and loneliness and melancholy? Wouldn't we be such better friends and artists for really attending to that emotion instead of just saying, oh, this doesn't belong in my life. So I'm going to run toward the light, which, you know, only

kind of disembodies us and makes us fragmented because then we're saying, oh, this part shouldn't exist and this part should. And then you get into moralizing emotions, which is no fun when you think, oh, I'm a good person because I'm happy or I'm a bad person because I'm sad. And I don't like any of that. I want us to embrace it all. That's, I think that's, that's just, you live so much richer when you, when you attend to all of the feelings that you're feeling. Yeah. And, but the, the sort of cultural trope is that that's not a life well lived, you know, the truth is maximum happiness all the time, which by the way, like all the research shows that when people try and pursue that, it leaves them less happy because it's impossible to attain and sustain. So it's sort of like, you want to make yourself perpetually miserable, do everything you can to make yourself perpetually happy. Yes.

Yes. It just doesn't work. Yeah. And what the research shows also is it kind of really validates what sort of like your lens on the world, which is the people who report that they actually live, you know, like genuinely the best lives very often live what they call emo diverse lives. Like they experience the full spectrum of emotion, the high highs, the low lows and everything in the middle. And they allow themselves to feel it. And that's the, that is the person who overall, you know, like says things are better. And also is more resilient. You know, you sort of like,

you build that muscle more readily. Tara Rock, years ago, I once heard her talking about this. And she said something like, when things happen to you that you don't want to happen, and you're like, this again? Why, why, why, why, why? She's like, the reframe is, oh, this too. Okay, so I didn't ask for this. I don't necessarily want it. And yet it's here.

So it's sort of like this, you know, opening to, oh, and this, in fact, is a part of life as well. Now what do I do with that? Rather than just trying to reject it and deny its existence, you know, because then you let go of the suffering that comes from your devotion to rejecting the experience. You still have to deal with the circumstance, but very often that's not the thing that causes the greater sort of like part of suffering for us. Exactly. That's such a creative way of thinking about it. I love that. I found some objectively really good things have happened to me, like publishing a book, for example. It's all I

wanted to do. Getting to move to New York, such a dream. And those things happen and it's wonderful, but it gives you a pretty short burst of happiness. And then you're kind of onto something else. And so I've been thinking, what is a sustained positive emotion? And really, it's kind of the struggle of life, of writing a book is, I think, to me, so much more satisfying than publishing one, because that's kind of a short little momentary happiness. But the process of going through it and, you know, struggling in these late nights and sacrificing things, that's such a satisfying experience. Probably why people go mountain climbing and those kinds of things. And that is an experience where you're going to go through all of the emotions when you're struggling. It's all there. You're going to experience all kinds of emotions. And the beauty of that is that you accomplish something and you are fully human at the same time, which is quite the joy in the end. Yeah, so agree with you. I often think that it's the very fact

that something wasn't easily achieved that endows it with value. Right, I love that. It's like if it came easy, well, okay, cool. But then two seconds later, kind of who cares? Yeah, I remember you talking about building the guitar, right, which is like so unnecessary because you can just buy one.

Right, a way better one for way less time and money than I spent building this kind of cruddy guitar. That's totally. But what's the fun in that? Right, you know, and when I pick up, you know, like that one guitar, no matter how it sounds, like there's something, like I pick up the journey that made it, not just the object.

It's precious, yeah, yeah. Yeah up the journey that made it, not just the object. It's precious. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. It's funny. You write about, I mean, kind of along these same lines, you write about a mutual friend of ours, Ruthie Lindsay, who, you know, talk about somebody who has been dropped into this journey really from, you know, like for many years back of dealing, waking up every day and dealing with

full body pain, or at least the circumstances, the stimulation in the body that would lead her to profound suffering 24 seven. The first, I literally remember the first time I met Ruthie and I opened the door and there's like this radiant light coming in through the door, a smile that's going from like one side of the doorframe to the like this radiant light coming in through the door, a smile that's going from like one side of the doorframe to the other. And I'm like, okay, something doesn't add up here. Yes. Yes. I mean, talk about sustained joy and someone who embraces everything that happens to her fully embraces. Yeah. When you get back to New York and you're sort of you're diving back into your career, you're reassembling the pieces and you get to a point where you start traveling again. Also, one of the places you find yourself is Rio. And before

you leave, all these people are telling you it's so dangerous. It's so dangerous. It's so dangerous. You know, why are you going? You're traveling alone. And you know, you in your Mari way, it's like, I'll deal with it. You know, like I've dealt with a lot of stuff. This is what I do. This is who I am. You know, like, it's almost like that's you stepping back, not stepping back into, but stepping forward into the part of you that you love and then like shaping it to wrap around who you've now become. When you're on the ground in Rio, pretty soon though, you go through this sort of like 24 hour window that I think is really powerful. Yeah. I had a couple of days in, I can't tell you how much I was just loving every second of Rio. That was one of those experiences where it was nonstop happiness. Just so happy I couldn't even think straight. Everything's so beautiful and vibrant and the energy of the city is magnificent. Have you been there? I haven't. It's been, it's one of the cities that's been like on my forever list and I just haven't had a chance to go yet because it's not the kind of place I want to go for a weekend.

Yeah, sure. Yeah. Yeah, exactly. Exactly. Right. Yeah. It's just, I mean, it's hard to describe. It's so unlike anywhere I've ever been. And I was just kind of on this euphoric high of being there and feeling so myself. You know, I think when we travel, the places that I tend to like the most are the ones where I felt like a full version of myself. And that can come out in so many different ways. But in my case, it was being stimulated constantly by the most joyful music and colors and food. And it's just a really, really rich place in so many ways, very soul wealthy place. And so it's kind of like, this is your I'm back moment to a certain

extent. Yeah, totally. Totally. Like rock star reunion tour. Yeah, definitely. And reunited with myself. And I was mugged within the first couple of days, which is exactly what people said would happen. And it was a little scarier than I had imagined it might be. Like in many dramatic episodes, none of my human instincts kicked in. I kind of froze and didn't know what to do. All that was taken was my phone. It really wasn't that bad in the grand scheme of things. But it is one of those times when you realize, oh, right. Life also has other things. I'm in this place. I'm feeling great. I packed the best outfits. I controlled it as much as I could. But here's this thing that was completely out of my control and kind of took the rug out from under me. I trusted Rio so much because it was such a glorious

place that was making me so happy. And suddenly there was this element to it that I hadn't yet known. I hadn't met yet. And when I did meet it, there was that feeling of, okay, well, I'm here for two more weeks. So what am I going to do? And I spent a day feeling really uneasy and kind of wondering, I didn't want to tell people at home. So I was kind of having that loneliness of carrying this experience by myself. And then I thought, you know what? I came here to dance. I'm going to go do that. I went back to the neighborhood where I was mugged earlier that day

and went to a couple clubs. I wasn't really feeling it. And I stumbled upon this street dance party. And everybody was there, all walks of life. And that is my Rio. Like that was it. And it was so healing to just experience joy and realizing, you know, these bursts of joy,

this beautiful scene is something that no one can take from me. And let that be how I remember this place. And it is, that's what I think about when I think about Rio. I think about this gorgeous dance party and the kind of resistance. We've talked a lot about joy as resistance

in the past few years and what it looks like to claim your joy even when people aren't giving it to you or you're feeling like it's being infringed on in certain ways. And to just really fully experience that was such a rebellious act for me to say, I'm going to have a great time anyway. Yeah. Do you ever wonder, I know you're in your head a lot, just like I am. Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had gone out that night?

You said, okay, so I'm going to go back to the very same neighborhood where I was literally just mugged at machete point. And I'm going to wander those very same streets at night alone. And instead of finding yourself turning a corner and seeing local families and neighbors dancing in the street and then bringing you in and welcoming you into this and having this incredible evening. If you had turned that corner and it was just a dark street and that very moment that happened utterly by chance never happened, what the frame would have been for you on the entire experience? Like, would you somehow just figure out a way to choose joy, you know, or I'm just,

I'm fascinated with sort of like the, you know, this notion of like, what if one single thing happened differently? Yes. Yes. Yeah. That's really interesting to think about. I think I, I mean, I say this knowing nothing about how it would found it on that block, I would have found it in a stray cat, or I would have found it by eating pizza at a hole in the wall, or going back to my Airbnb and journaling under the night sky. I would have found something that led me to trust in the city and in myself again,

because I, I had to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're gonna die. Don't shoot him, we need him! Y'all need a pilot? Flight Risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever,

making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X,

available for the first time in glossy jet-black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. There's this really common pattern that keeps repeating itself with you and moments that would drop you into a place of struggle and you investing not just you know like sort of like seeing what happens but you proactively investing energy in reframing the experience and seeking out either an explanation or an alternative set of experiences that allow you to view it and create a different lens on what's going on. You did it when you came to New York. It seems like when you step into Rio

and you have this experience, it would have been perfectly rational and justified for you to say, I am going to only go to the big public crowded plazas and streets only during the day. And I'm going to kind of hide out in my room and write at night, or maybe I'm just going to go home because this was really kind of scary. And there's an instinct in you that seems to say, Hmm, that's kind of not why I'm here.

Like, I'm the person. I'm the person who, when stuff like this happens to me, I take control of changing the narrative. You know, like, I need to proactively do something, not to choose joy, but to create it, to seek it, to source it. And I kind of am not going to stop until I get there. Wow. That's a really beautiful thing to say. Does that land as true to you or is it just sort of like saying like that? It does. Absolutely. Yeah. It's funny because about a month ago when I was just so completely sick of the past year, I told a friend, I'm done reframing. I'm so sick of reframing. But the thing is, I'm still going to do it.

I'm still going to do it. And that's something I have to be pretty conscious of doing just for myself. I, you know, it's, it would be easy to try to get other people to do that. And that's, that's not what I'm here to do. I'm here to do it for myself, for sure. There are times when I kind of feel like I'm attacking life as though it's something to attack. Like I gotta, I gotta get to the heart of this. I'd like, no, one's going to stop me. I am going to get some stories out of this and then I'm going to leave and I'm going to leave, you know, the stories that I wrote on earth. There's almost this, this personal mission that, that feels unstoppable sometimes,

but I have to be careful not to, uh careful not to evangelize that on other people. I'm actually working as a hospital chaplain now. I started this job last month and something I really struggle with is not doing that for other people, but just to sit in the loneliness, sit in the suffering and not try to reframe it at all, because most people don't need that when they're suffering. And I wouldn't want it either. It's something I think that comes much later. Yeah, no, that makes a lot of sense. And I know, I remember when you sharing that, you know, when you were in the hospital originally in Granada, feeling so alone, that there was a moment where I guess a chaplain came in and literally just placed a hand on your

shoulder and just sat with you. Exactly. That made all the difference. But yeah, when you have that instinct to sort of say like, well, let's do something to create a different reality, to sort of stifle that and say like, A, maybe that's not appropriate for everybody. And also like in this moment in time, a lot of people just do need to sit with this moment and not, and it actually makes it worse to have everyone be like, buck up, look at the bright side. Where's the silver lining? It actually piles on to the anguish to just sit when your impulse may not be to actually do that. I mean, what's that like for you? Oh, it's so challenging. It's so challenging. I mean, that is the most vulnerable that I think a person can be is to sit with someone else

in suffering and not offer anything. I think we are a culture who really values people with an offer. We value people who have something to give. And I've been thinking, I've been talking to my supervisor about, well, what if I'm with this family and their mom is dying? What do I have to give them? What should I say? And she says repeatedly, we have the same conversation every week. She says, nothing. You're just there. You just give your presence. That's all you give. And even though I have been on the receiving end of presence and I know how valuable it is and much more valuable than someone with an answer or with a offering of hope or some little quip or a book or whatever. I know how beautiful that is and how valuable it is. And yet it's so uncomfortable not to want to give that. It's so uncomfortable to sit there and

say, I know this is so hard, or I'm so sorry, you're dealing with this. And I'm just going to be here. And I'm going to sit over there. And if you want someone to talk to, I'll be here. But that is like, masterclass of life. And I'm not nailing it. Because all I want to do is give them something to, you know, something they can, they can have that'll make things easier because it's uncomfortable for me. Yeah. Why are you doing it then? I mean, I get why you're doing it for them and I get how you've been touched by that on the receiving end and seeing how valuable it was to you and how you could see how helpful it would be to others.

What's in it for you? Why does this matter for you to play that role just for you? You know, if I can get a little woo-woo for a moment. You can get as woo-woo as you want. Thank you, Jonathan. I so appreciate you. If I were going to think about my, my highest purpose on earth, my highest calling, what I have to offer this earth, I think I can transcribe messages from the divine,

from source, from create a creative mother energy, whatever, whatever you want to call maybe a universe, God, a higher being. I feel like I can sit down and I can write. That's something I can do. And there are times when I feel like I'm hearing something that didn't come from me, and I'm just going to write it down. And if I believe that that is something that I can do, or that I'm available to do, I've got to have something to say. I've got to get some messages. And I think the place where you're going to get the most messages is in the midst of suffering. And because our society doesn't like suffering, we put it in certain areas. One of them is a hospital. Another one is a prison. There are other places where you can find suffering, pain, death, these things that our society loves to ignore. But that's one of them. A hospital is one of them. And if I want to get

into the deepest core of life and get these truths and get these messages so that I can tell either my friend or Instagram or a book or whatever, I'm going to have to go there. And so I feel like I'm almost kind of on this adventure, like digging my way through what life is. And in the core of it is pain. What is pain? What's the meaning of pain? It's completely meaningless. What do you do with that? You just sit there. What is pain? What's the meaning of pain? It's completely meaningless. What do you do with that? You just sit there. What are you going to learn about it? And I'm going to figure that out. So stay tuned. Part two. Exactly. Yeah.

That book is coming next. I'm going to figure it out. We will all be waiting for that one to arrive as long as it's definitive and we know exactly what to do. Yes, for sure. For sure. there's another part of you that kind of runs to the darkness to really, really, really know it, even though you find your way back. It's almost like you're going there with intention, because there's something you need to learn about yourself and the world. And you kind of know it when you get it, and then you come back to center. And then you keep taking these journeys from one place to the other to each other. I almost wonder whether, is there anything in you that wonders if you're entitled

to that joyous romp on the street in the middle of night in Rio, if you don't also open yourself to the darkest alleys of what goes on in the world and in your life. Yeah, that really resonates. Yeah, for sure. I don't know if I personally have experienced what I think a lot of people have, which is the more pain you go through, the more joy you can experience. I don't know if that's the way that I would frame it for myself. But I do want to be as present to pain as I am to joy. And, you know, this comes back to my resistance to choosing happiness and positivity. It's like, okay, we're kind of overcorrecting there. So what can I do to bring this into balance? And I think intuitively, I know there's something to learn there. And so, yeah, I think there is kind of a, well, if I am going to spend so much time pursuing this part of life and enjoying this part of life, what's the version of like enjoying pain, like fully being present to it? I would say just sitting with it. And that is something that I feel like is as important at the end of the day as going out and dancing in the streets, although one's a lot more fun.

That makes a lot of sense to me. And also, I think it probably makes sense for just us to clarify for our listeners that there is a difference between opening yourself to the truth of certain hard circumstances and proactively seeking to create pain for the sake of feeling it very often because you're numb to a lot. And like, that is the easiest access that you have to feeling again, which is probably much more pathological and dangerous and not constructive. Like, I think a lot of times we think about like, that's the way that I need to be. And it's almost a coping mechanism for other things, but it's different. Opening yourself to the truth of the full spectrum, the highs and also the pains, the unease is different than creating moments of darkness, than creating moments of pain, creating moments of suffering, which I don't think is necessary in order to actually feel the full spectrum and feel the joy and be fully alive.

Yes. That's such an important clarification. And I mean, I'm certainly, I think because I tend a little more melancholy, I do find myself in times of numbness. I mean, the easiest way is to go to my phone and start scrolling through things that I know are going to cause me harm. I know I'm not going to be happy at the end of that. And there's no... You're the only one who does that. I am the only person in the world who does that. Along with the rest of the world. And it feels like I'm kind of pushing on these bruises or I'm, you know, I'm kind of like sinking into that a bit. And there is no truth to be had there. There's no like truth of human suffering.

That's just harm. It's not, it's not doing anything good. I'm not going to get any messages there. I'm not going to learn more about the human condition there. I'm not going to get any messages there. I'm not going to learn more about the human condition there. I'm just going to be in a really bad mood and probably start comparing myself and start despairing about the news and all of that. Doesn't need to happen. Yeah.

And I mean, it's interesting. You also, you write about this. There's this distinction between also allowing yourself to, quote, fall, you also, you write about this, there's this distinction between also allowing yourself to quote fall, you know, to fall into the darkness, to fall into like sitting by the bedside of somebody who's suffering, fall into your own suffering, fall into the things that you struggle with and to be there, but not create the chasms that you fall into, but allow yourself to be there. And then, and there's this notion of kind of exposure therapy, like when you keep revisiting them,

examining them while you're there, you know, and, and like getting the texture and the flavor and the feel of it and exploring, well, what if I do this? Or what if I do this? What if I do this? What if I do nothing, you know, in the name of potentially knowing that we're all going to fall, we're all going to stumble over and over and over in life. And if we do it in a more intentional way, as you write, you know, it's about falling better rather than never falling, you know, which, which my brain translates to, you know, like it's, it's about resilience. Yeah. Yeah. There's that great word that I've thought about so much. What does it mean to be resilient? And yeah, that idea of falling better was a gifted concept to me from when I was little and I did gymnastics and we learned how to fall off the beam. We actually learned the best way to fall. And I revisited that

concept. I mean, many times throughout my adult life, but recently when I was, when I was working through a lot of childhood wounds and realizing these are going to keep coming up, but how can I fall better? How can I hurt better? What's a, what way to hurt and to go through these things that are inevitable? But what's the way that I want to be able to fall so that I can get back up? thing. I never got very good at it though, as my body is now reporting to me on a daily basis. They should have told you it's not so much about falling better so you don't hurt now. It's like falling better so you don't hurt 30 years from now. It doesn't really land in the brain of like a 14 year old. This feels like a good place for us to come full circle as well. So the name of this Good Life Project, I have asked this question of you a number of years ago when we first spent some time together in conversation. But if I offer up the phrase to live a good life,

having been through a lot since we last spoke, what comes up? Hmm. I think to live a good life is to seek beauty. I recently learned that the word beauty comes from, I think the Greek word for calling. So something that you're called to is something that's beautiful. And I love thinking about just looking around my room, which, you know, I've spent a lot of time in the past few months, and looking at the most ordinary things and thinking, what's the beauty there? What's the beauty in this shoe, in this box, in this lamp, in these things that I see every day? These things that if I were going to suddenly leave this life and go somewhere else, wouldn't I miss so much these little things, these little ordinary things? And so there's so much beauty to be had every day and to be explored every day. And there is beauty in the melancholy, thinking about the purple skies

of twilight and how that can tug at your heartstrings. And it's also gorgeous and a really nice time to take photographs and seeking the beauty and joy, the beauty of smiles and the beauty of light after dark and the beauty of the new dawn. I think to look for the beauty every day would be to live a very good life. Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you so much for listening. And thanks also to our fantastic sponsors who help make this show possible.

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