Universe, are you there? It's me, Mary.

A few days ago a friend told me about the book E-Squared. The book involves 9 do-it-yourself energy experiments. It poses as a guide to show us how we shape our own lives. It says that if we focus on and search for what we ask for in the universe, we might just find it. The first experiment was to ask for a blessing. Naturally I asked for something to appear to me from my mother. I wrote down the time I asked for the blessing and noted that the 48 hours would be up at 4:41pm on Friday. Then I waited. Then I ate an entire box of Snackwell Devil's Food Cookies. (This isn't really vital to the story, I just wanted to let you know because it was my last box of them from the States and I figured maybe you're feeling generous today while you read my blog...? It is worth a shot.)  

Thursday came and went. Nothing. 

I woke up Friday morning and prepared my bag to go on an adventure with a friend. I was making breakfast and had reached to get something from a high cabinet when suddenly my left shoulder decided to stop working. That same shoulder has been hurting me for the last six months and I am pretty convinced it's because my camera weighs around 20 pounds. I am not kidding, it's like carrying a bowling ball around my neck. 

I didn't know exactly what we were doing for our adventure but I knew it involved kayaking. Since I suddenly had a bum shoulder I figured this would definitely pose a problem. It did not. Instead I just sat in the front like Pocahontas (minus the perfect hair - my hair is not adjusting to island life as curly and adorably as I'd hoped) while Smith paddled away in the back. It is a miracle I still have a friend after this day of adventuring. 

We...this is a lie... he pulled the kayak on to the left side of Whistling Cay and told me to get out a little before we hit shore since it would be easier. I attempted to get out gracefully but instead just stepped out, found no footing, and quickly fell down. I stood back up and was pretty convinced I had gotten stung by a jelly fish. I did not think they had many incidents of jelly fish stings in the Virgin Islands so I found this odd, but it definitely felt exactly like one so I asked. That's when I realized it wasn't a sting, I had just fallen on to some fire coral. I actually didn't realize this, I was told. If you don't know what that that means, it means tiny fiery barbs of the coral were launched into a part of my leg. It's like a jelly fish sting that lasts 24 hours. Super fun. 

After putting the kayak up on some rocks we started towards the cliffs. We jumped off the first small cliff, which was only a 10 foot drop to the water and swam over to the larger cliff. We climbed to the top and then jumped the 30 feet off that one too. It was pretty exciting. I wanted to feel like a professional high diver, but I did not. I felt more like those girls you see at the water parks who go down the water slide and have to manually remove their bottoms from their anal cavities because of the pressure. (I'm trying to be polite, I don't know if anyone really calls it that but my grandma might be reading this.) Anyway, it wasn't a slide but somehow that happened and while it was less embarrassing since my lower half was hidden under water, it was extremely painful. I'm not sure why I am telling you this, I guess I am trying to help in case anyone was planning on jumping off a cliff in the next few weeks and needed some advice. Jump carefully.

I decided to climb back up the small cliff to get to our bag with the underwater camera and attempt to take a photo as my friend dismounted again from the high cliff. I skidded back down (since I didn't want to jump in with the camera in case it left my hand) and pushed myself off the last few feet. Somehow I managed to catch my left foot on a barnacle on the extremely short trip into the water. I didn't think too much of it until a few minutes later when I pulled it out of the water and saw it pooling blood. It was not my day. My left side was completely useless at this point and I had yet to see a blessing from the universe that related to my mother. It was 2:30pm. Time was ticking. One hour and 11 minutes to go.

We decided to do some snorkeling which was fun except for when my friend pointed out there was a nerf shark under one of the caves below. He offered to scare it out so I could see it and before I could say in my loudest city girl voice, UM NO THANK YOU, he was already back under water on his way to do it. Since I know nothing about sharks I didn't really hear when he said nerf and instead focused on the shark part of the sentence. The shark was actually really cool and swam by without giving two hoots (let's bring that phrase back) about me or my bleeding foot. Still, it was a traumatizing experience for me during those 30 seconds before he swam out. 

W̶e̶ He kayaked back to land, rinsed off, and packed ourselves back into the car when suddenly I realized my sunglasses were missing. Sunglasses in the Caribbean are similar to shoes in NYC. You need them, a lot. Of course I only brought two pairs (the foldable Ray Bans that are so cool) and an $8 pair from Forever 21. I figured they must still be on the beach so I limped back and searched. Nothing. I went back to the car and checked the time. 

4:30pm. NOTHING. I looked up at the sky and said a not-so-silent threat to the universe. (I told you, it's amazing this person is still my friend) and got in the car. As we got closer to town my phone got service and a few emails came through. I opened them up. One of the emails read "Happy Belated" it was from my mother's best friend. Sent at 4:23pm.

Was this mom? I hope so. She wrote: "Wishing you a year of gentle joys, tropical zephyrs, business success and lightness of heart.  All wrapped up in gratitude, of course!" It even sounded like Mom. No wonder these two were so close. 

It was a comfort. A sign? I'd like to believe yes. I looked all day and got frustrated with each new injury, and the loss of my expensive sunglasses, not realizing she was there. Her friend had sent the email earlier but had just realized it was to the wrong address on Friday, 18 minutes before my time was up to find a sign. Mom must have had something to do with that, right?

Knowing her, she probably gave me that wedgie when I jumped off the cliff too.

On my way out to a fabulous birthday dinner with my two roommates, Liz and Liz:

The best martini I have ever had: (with an iced refill!)

Some of my birthday friends: 

Happy happy: 

Best Sunday brunch ever:

Actual birthday spent at the Westin:

Birthday sunset!

Fake it 'til you make it

I am currently shaking while typing this.

It's a Starbucks kind of shake. It's been four months since my last latte. (I feel like there 
should be a chip for this?) Liz's mother is visiting and brought me a Starbucks coffee this 
morning. I couldn't have been more excited. I downed the coffee while browsing the news 
and felt like such a New Yorker again. It was quite comforting until I realized my hands 
were shaking. It has been 45 minutes and they are still shaking.

I thought I would do some yoga to calm my shakes but when I opened Youtube there was a commercial for lemon-scented candles. Seeing this commercial reminded me I had a Lemon Luna bar in the fridge. I figured this might help so I went into the kitchen to eat it and saw all of the dishes in the sink. So I started to do some dishes. After doing the dishes I turned around and opened the fridge and saw an old Greek yogurt I had bought. It was expiring soon so I thought maybe I should eat it. Then I remembered that I wanted to give up dairy for certain health reasons so I decided against it. Thinking about giving up dairy reminded me that I wouldn't be able to have mudslides anymore. And I love mudslides. My mom loved mudslides too. In fact we used to get the best mudslides in Islamorada, Florida where my family would go once a year after Christmas for a week or two. My sister and I have a video of my mother (after a few glasses of wine) talking about the mudslides there. Thinking about this made me dig up my external hard drive to watch that video. It has now been another 30 minutes and I am still shaking and nothing has been accomplished. Well, the dishes are done. This is probably why I shouldn't drink coffee.

I took a little sabbatical from writing last week because I was sick. I was also depressed. I had decided to go out again on the boat my roommates work on for the day trip to Jost Van Dyke when it all started. The night before I barely slept, this is apparently my new modus operandus. I stay awake hanging out with my heartburn till my body finally collapses in exhaustion for maybe two hours each night. I got out of bed the morning of the boat trip and headed to the dock with my roommate at 7am to board. I was sitting comfortably in the boat hammock when I began feeling a little sick. I figured it was due to exhaustion and attempted to fall asleep. When I woke up I felt even more sick. I stood up and realized I was really nauseous and began to make my way to the bathroom. Someone was in it, and I began to panic. I asked one of the girls if she had a bag and she told me to go to the back of the boat if I felt sick. Unfortunately there was thirty people on the boat that day so the seats in the back were occupied. I ran over, covering my mouth, and yelled to them, "I am so sorry but I think I am going to be sick." (I like to stay polite even in the most awkward of moments.) I then proceeded to throw up over the side of the boat next to a nice newly married couple.

The first week I moved to St John I was sitting in a chair on the beach with two of my roommates and some of their friends. We were watching our roommate's dog at the time and I was holding his leash with my right hand draped slightly over the back of my chair. We were all chatting when suddenly the dog must have seen another dog and took off...with the leash still wrapped around my hand. I took off too, backwards right over the chair in front of everyone that was on the beach and sitting at the beach bar.

I am still debating which was more embarrassing, or painful, between the Newlywed Vomit Show and my beach gymnastics.

Regardless, I got home from the trip and went right to bed. The next day I had a fever. The following day I had a pity party. I sat in bed all day miserable and feeling sick and getting more and more furious. I did not move here to be sick. It is not fair. When I used to get sick in New York, I would lay in bed and go on Seamless.com to order myself wheatgrass shots and green juice from Organic Avenue. In 30 minutes they would be delivered to my door. I would call my mom and she would tell me what to eat, or drink, or take for medicine. She would keep saying "Oh my poor baby." I would sit and watch Friends all day on my computer and when I finally thought some fresh air would help I would walk ten feet to the bodega and get myself a Gatorade.

But there is no Seamless here. No bodega ten feet away. No mom to tell me what a poor baby I am that I am sick. (Although that video of her proclamation on mudslides being the best thing ever did help.) So instead I had a pity party. I diagnosed myself with ten different diseases I found on Web MD and cried most of the day away in bed.

But once again, I got better. I realized my pity party was accomplishing nothing so I showered and started telling myself, "Today, I will feel better." And each day I did a little. I faked it and then it worked. I felt better. I am really starting to believe the whole "Fake it 'til you make it" thing.

When I lived in New York I was going a million miles an hour. I was constantly doing projects, being busy at work, meeting with friends, making plans, running from one thing to the next. Then I moved here. My pace went down to about zero miles an hour. It was weird. Everyone thinks it would be so wonderful to move to an island and be able to breathe and do what you actually want and have TIME. I mean, I have time here. I never had time. Now I have so much of it. It's weird and uncomfortable and fantastic and apparently making me sick every other week because I won't embrace it. I just get stressed instead. I spent a solid two hours watching Ted talks on stress the other day and googling how to handle it. The best thing I learned from it was that stress is OK if we just embrace it. If we allow ourselves to get stressed without thinking it's bad for us. Kelly McGonigal's talk explained that, "Over a period of eight years where researchers were tracking deaths related to stress, 182,000 Americans died prematurely not from stress but from the belief that stress is bad for you." Well that is just terrifying. I will not be the girl that packed up her life in NYC to move to a beautiful island just to die from the thought that stress was killing her.

One of my favorite Ellen DeGeneres quotes is one on stress. She talks about anxiety and stress pills and how everyone takes them. She says:

"I don't want to take a pill. Go to Africa, go follow some bushman around. He's being chased by a lion. That's stress. You're not going to find a pygmy on Paxil, I'll tell you that right now." 

All the commercials on TV today are for antidepressants, for Prozac or Paxil. And they get you right away. "Are you sad? Do you get stressed, do you have anxiety?" "Yes, I have all those things! I'm alive!"

So today I am taking a step. Stepping in the direction towards not being a crazy stress ball. Do I have things to be stressed about, of course. Like Ellen said, I'm alive. You are stressed too. I know it because you are reading this, which means you are a human and breathing, which means you are most definitely stressed. But the great news is, if you are reading this, you aren't being chased by a lion.

Think of one thing that will make you take that step towards Positiveville. Think of one thing that makes you happy. Dwell on it. A lot. Take a step. Take another. Fake it if you have to. Embrace your stress. No one can save you but yourself.

What I did when I wasn't in bed with stress...

Early morning boat ride:

 Sunset viewing from the porch:

Words of wisdom from my Daily Teachings calendar:

First visit to Oppenheimer Beach:

Gorgeous night for a sail:

First night back on the boat after being sick:

 Sunset cruising:

Pain killer to kill the pain:

Day at the Westin:

Champagne and nutella banana wontons for dinner:

Early birthday present to myself: 

(The St John ring)

Adventures, reflections, and belated resolutions

I read an old post the other morning on Facebook that read: "It’s that time of year again, folks. A New Year; a fresh start. Now’s the time we all vow to do a boatload of things most of us will never follow through on come 2014." I thought to myself, God that sounds depressing. Why is it that we always begin to make resolutions only to completely give up on ourselves the next day? It's like a pointless game we play with ourselves. Wouldn't it be so cool if we could accomplish "______" this year? Yes. Yes, it would. But it will never happen. We don't have time. We will just write it on a list for fun and then lose it the next day. 

I don't think it's a pointless game, at least not for me. If we all focus on making our list a little more realistic instead of setting ourselves up for failure then we can actually follow through and feel good about it. I made myself a list and I fully intend on completing it all. The last goal on my list is the one I will focus on the most. Finish what I start. 

The spring semester of my junior year in college I studied in Florence, Italy. I gained an enormous amount of insight into life because of this experience. I also gained 21.5 pounds but that's neither here nor there. During one of my art history classes our teacher took us on a long walk. She didn't tell us where we were going, she simply told us to follow her and not look back for the entire walk. We walked for 20 minutes on flat ground and then hit some steps. We walked up stairs for what felt like an hour (apparently it was only 20 minutes) and then finally she let us turn around. I am sure some of the other students turned around before we got to the top, but at that point after walking that far and losing feeling in my knees, I figured I'd let myself properly be rewarded at the top. It was worth it. We arrived to a church on top of the last set of stairs and looked  back on to the whole city. It quickly became one of my favorite views in the world. 

A few weeks later my parents came to visit me in Florence. I could not wait to show them the view. Of course, I felt it necessary to bring them up to the view exactly as I had been brought up. My dad, wisely, said he would take the bus up instead and meet us there. My mom blindly followed me as we began the trek up the stairs. 

Walking up stairs for someone at the age of 21 for fifteen straight minutes is not enjoyable. Walking up the stairs for someone who is over the age of 50 for fifteen straight minutes with bad knees is potential torture. She didn't complain though, she simply said "Well, I can't do that ever again" once we reached the top. I brought her into the church at the top and there were men singing hymns inside. It felt like we had stepped back in time. We sat there for a while just listening to them sing. Minus torturing my mother by forcing her to climb up to the view, it was one of the best days of my life. 

This past Sunday my friend Liz and I went out to Coral Bay and hiked Ram's Head. The Virgin Islands National Park website describes this trail as follows: "This rocky, exposed trail leads to a unique blue cobble beach and then switchbacks up the hillside to its crest 200 feet above the Caribbean Sea. Magnificent windswept scenery. Danger: watch footing near cliff edge." 

It was all those things. I made a mental goal to do more hikes this year. Sundays once consisted of sleeping until 4pm and drowning the dread of the impending Monday at work in burgers and 16 Handles frozen yogurt. As I looked out on the view from the top of Ram's Head, I was already feeling productive. However, as we started our trek back we passed another huge hill. The hill was twice the size of Ram's Head with no distinct trail to the top. Liz decided we would hike this too. At this point in the hike I was pretty out of breath. (I have had a cold for about two weeks now. Totally normal since I just moved to the Land of Summer.) It was the hottest part of the day. I ignored my lack of sunscreen and my flimsy flip flops and decided to follow her up the hill. After stepping on about ten cactus plants in the first five minutes, and pulling thorns out of our feet and arms, you would think one would turn back and attempt this on a day with sneakers and a slightly less blazing sun. We continued anyway. For some reason all I could think about was my mother that day in Florence. How she trustingly  followed me knowing there would be something awesome at the end of the relatively painful trek. If she could climb those stairs, I definitely could climb this hill.

So I did. I thought about how I could just tell Liz I'd meet her on the bottom several times, but instead I stayed silent and followed. I finished what I started, and it felt good. The cocktail I had as a reward when we got back to town felt even better. 

So whether it's one thing on your list of resolutions this year, or twenty, try to follow through on as many as you possible can. The feeling you get when you accomplish even the smallest of tasks is worth it. A close friend of mine got me a shirt a few months ago that he said reminded him of me. It is a huge white t-shirt with the letters YO on the front in silver and LO on the back. (Like Flat Stanley, I will be bringing this shirt to photograph with me most places I travel to in 2014.) For those of you who still don't know, YOLO is the "You only live once" phrase that I will be embracing this year. Make fun of the acronym as much as you'd like, but I am sticking to it. The shirt is one of my favorite presents I have ever received. Not so much because it is a comfy shirt that screams "Carpe diem" in 2014 slang, but because my friend saw something he knew I would appreciate and he stood in line and bought it for me. On a random day. For no reason except to make me happy. 

If you are looking for just one perfect resolution to make this year, that would be a great one. Make one person happy. Write it down on that paper you won't lose and follow through. 

And finish what you start. We are not lazy people. We choose to be lazy. Read this quote to yourself every time you are having a pity party for yourself about not having time or being too busy: 

“Don't say you don't have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresa, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.”

Tell yourself you can do anything you  set your mind to, because you actually can...and go make someone smile today. Send a stupid picture, buy them a funny present, send them a cheerful email or text. You will make their day. Take a hike. Call a relative. It may take a little time and effort but the reward is always worth it. Make 2014 worth it.

View from last Thursday's walk:

Driving lessons!

Snorkeling at Little Saint JamesLittle Saint James (A privately own island)

Annaberg Historical Sugar Mill ruins:

Sunset cruise on the Kekoa Saturday night:

Sunday's hike!

On top of the world featuring my YOLO shirt:

First week in paradise

Just a Jack-less Rose out adventuring on her own

When I first made the decision to move out of NYC, I thought I was a total bad ass. I was going to quit my job where I sat stuck in a cubicle from nine to five and run out of the building door without looking back. I was going to leave Manhattan, get on a plane with my one way ticket and one checked suitcase and create a whole new life for myself in the Virgin Islands. I would arrive to the Islands with an umbrella drink waiting for me and suddenly life would be easy and fabulous. 

The plan didn't pan out exactly as I thought it would. Leaving NYC meant leaving coworkers that had become like family to me. It meant leaving an apartment with two of my best friends who I spent my entire life with up to that date. It meant leaving my family and moving somewhere I knew absolutely nothing about, taking only a few pair of shorts and a framed picture of me and my mother. But you don't think about this stuff when you decide to manifest a dream. You simply think about how cool it is, how bad ass you are for quitting and actually following through on a plan that was made over a quick text message. You feel empowered. At least at first. 

Then you arrive. That powerful bad ass feeling suddenly becomes an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and you quickly enter into a massive state of panic. You sleep on a couch in a house of people you don't know, with the exception of one roommate who has been recently diagnosed with Salmonella. There is no fun island beverage waiting for you, and delicious island food is not an option because your body decides to shut down. You can not eat, sleep, drink. You stay on a couch the first few nights to avoid getting Salmonella yourself. (Yes, it is contagious.) You get up in the middle of the night to splash some cold water on your hot face and step on to a beetle the size of a mouse in the process. You listen to the sounds of roosters clucking all night long. Your mind is racing with questions about how you're going to live here, what will you do? How will you make it work? You flick ants and mosquitoes off your skin and you wonder...

What the hell have I done?

---

My close friend Liz texted me shortly after my mother died this past March. Liz had been living in Saint John, Virgin Islands for the past few years. She knew I had been on a health kick before Mom had gotten worse. For the year leading up to my mother's final week on earth I became a green juice fanatic. I started researching juicing and vegan lifestyles and actually was vegan for a few months and making my mom drink juices as much as she could. Then my mom passed away. The diet veered off course and more in a direction of mashed potatoes and whiskey after the funeral. Liz texted me the week I returned back to the city. I had gone back to work and tried to get back into a life I had absolutely no interest in living at that point. She told me I should move to the Islands. She said I would love it and that I would be able to do some hiking, get back to healthy eating and relax for a bit. I kindly told her that would be great but knew it could never happen. I couldn't just quit my job and leave my whole life in Manhattan. 

Two weeks later, I decided I could do it. I quit, I bought my ticket, and today I am writing from Saint John. 

The transition wasn't easy. I did not sleep the first two nights leading up to my early morning flight on December 30th. I did not sleep the first three nights I arrived on the Virgin Islands. My roommate was deathly ill with Salmonella. I couldn't eat. I missed my family. I painfully missed my mom all over again. I missed my friends. I was miserable. 

Then I woke up a few days later and was fine. It was really weird actually, but overnight I did a 180 and was fine the next day. One of my roommates is a kayak tour guide. She brought me on her morning tour and I got to see some beautiful beaches. I got to snorkel in my brand new hot pink snorkel gear that my sister got me for Christmas. My other sister got me a suit to match the gear perfectly. Either I looked like a pro, or a huge ass. I'd like to think pro.

The next day I went on a venture with my roommate's boyfriend to a gorgeous beach where we could bring the dog. By the way, there is a dog. I find this extremely comforting to have while everyone is at work during the day. He has been licking my ankle for the last two paragraphs. I have only been here for one week, but I think I may have already found love.

Sunday was one of the best days. I got up early with my friend Liz and she took me out on the boat she works on, the Kekoa. The boat is absolutely gorgeous with an awesome history and it was a nice small group that went out that day. I made friends with a recently married couple and their parents and spent the day reading, snorkeling, and enjoying a drink at the Soggy Dollar. On the way back we passed what looked like the iceberg in Titanic and the captain blasted "My Heart Will Go On" and made me stand in the front of the boat with my arms outstretched. 

I guess my message here today is, if you have something amazing you want to do this year and you're scared, do it anyway. You will be ok. It just takes some time to adjust. You might panic, but the panic subsides. 

Because moving to an island you know nothing about is relatively exhilarating. You just have to realize it will all be fine. You will be fine.

And when you do start to panic again, you put on Katy Perry's soundtrack (because after watching her documentary 'Part of Me" she is now one of your inspirations) and you remind yourself why this year you will be your own hero.

My sober new year celebration in Saint John (and a warmer viewing of Times Square) 

Cool fire-hoop dancing lady: 

The ball starting to drop:

Baby lizard ring:

First fun day out! Kayaking with my roommate:

First fun cocktail since arrival! Lime in de coconut after the big day kayaking:

My first sleep. Lasted 20 whole minutes, woke up with a protective pup paw:

View from our porch: 

The gorgeous beach I visited:

Saint John traditional Christmas tree (a Century plant):

Day out on the boat with my roommate and her friends:

Saturday brunch with Liz - our first real outing post Salmonella!

Snuck into a resort for some hot tub time and this fabulous view:

New favorite spot to sit on the island:

Day trip to Jost on the boat Liz works on:

Liz getting the boat ready for the day:

Sea turtles!

Nothing beats a boat hammock:

Mary's point, where we went snorkeling:

Jost!

The end to a perfect day: