On Loving Yourself

"Find your capacity to love yourself and then one another" - David Tierney Lerner

I met my good friend David on the side of the road last year while I was walking around Manhattan. We struck up a 45 minute conversation and parted ways. Now, over a year later, he and I spend a significant amount of time with one another--laughing, talking, smiling, living and loving life. The quote featured above was taken directly from the end of one of his brilliant Facebook status updates this past week. And I couldn't thank him any more for it. 

While David was responding to Anderson Cooper's coming out statement, in a beautiful way, in regards to himself--I believe that "finding the capacity to love yourself--and then one another" is such a good lesson that we could all try and participate in learning--no matter what that means for each person and their own insecurities. I know it's a lesson I've been working on for a long time:

My morning is pretty standard.

Wake up. Stretch. Move. Get up. Walk to the bathroom. Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

(Had to make sure that all reflected the way I wanted it to).

If you live alone--or are single--this is likely the first person you see each day.

You are likely the first person you see each day.

Why start off the day looking at someone you don't like?--Someone you don't love?

Too often, we stare in the mirror and pick out all of our "problems." I went through a period of my life where I refused to look in any mirrors-afraid of all the flaws I might find. It wasn't just mirrors though--it was store front windows (because who wants to look into their large reflection with a slim mannequin standing by and critiquing in that mannequin silence). It was car fenders. Heck--it was even shadows. Anything that offered me a return vision of my self was off limits. I went a year, essentially, without seeing ME.

I knew myself too well to know that looking in the mirror would have yielded a self-conscious sadness and eventual self-destruction. I didn't love myself. I didn't love who I was or who I felt people were seeing. It wasn't just my hair--my body--and my face that I didn't love. Somehow the mirrors seemed to reflect a lot of internal conflict that I wasn't ready to understand-- a lot of internal feelings and self-discoveries that I am only NOW starting to explore, discover, and love.

We are only offered a short period of time on this earth and if we spend a lot of that time disliking ourselves, it will be very difficult to find someone who can learn to love us. 

And sometimes we'll find--as my acting teachers would say--that what we really think isn't working about ourselves--is the number one thing that is.

Now.

Go look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Look in the mirror.

Love the person you see.

Love you.

The 3 Things I Learned in 26 Flights of Stairs...Aside from knowing never to wear heels when you work on the 26th floor...

As the 26^th floor of the New York City Municipal Building (see tower of building pictured) began to shake earlier today, I turned to my co-worker who was already swiveling her chair around to look at me. Moments later, a third co-worker came to the doorway and said “I am getting out.” Not before long, our entire floor and the two floors of our company stationed above us were racing down 26 flights of stairs (some 28) to reach safety down below.

“What was going on? Why were we shaking? Why were people going so slowly to get to the bottom?” My cameramen were yelling at those who were taking their time on their stairs, and some of my female counterparts were kicking off their shoes to go faster. “Not too much further” I whispered to one of my friends and mentors, “We got this.”

In three weeks, the tenth anniversary of 9/11 will be upon us. While I may have just been thirteen years old at the time of the attack, sitting in a middle school code of conduct assembly in Pennsylvania—many of the people beside me, ahead of me, and behind me were New Yorkers at the time of the attack. Many of these people had an itch of terror scratching their backs as their right foot landed and then their left on the steps below.

Again questions knotted themselves together like loose cords thrown into a bag. “What news would we learn at the bottom?” “Was everyone with us?” “What was happening?”

It wasn’t until 26 floors later that I received a text from my best friend, in Pennsylvania, asking me if I had felt the earthquake that she had just heard from a police officer had rumbled through New York City.

I turned back and looked at the building which I felt as though I had conquered and breathed deeply, my adrenaline still driving hard through my veins. I thought to myself, “I felt it…I felt all of it—the shake, the terror, the adrenaline…I felt all of it.”

The whole experience reminded me of TED video entitled “The 3 Things I learned while my plane crashed.” During this intense and vivid talk, Ric Elias discusses everything that crossed his mind while the plane he was on crash landed safely into the Hudson just a few years ago.

His three lessons?

1. Everything changes in an instant—our bucket list—the things we want to do in life—we should no longer postpone any of it.

2. Regret existed in his life.

3. That dying is not scary—that he just wanted the chance to see his family again—to see his kids grow up—to be a good father.

And I get it. Before today, I had never experienced, head-on, a terr-or-ific occurrence. I didn’t inhale the smoke from the Twin Towers, I didn’t feel the wind, rain or devastation from Hurricane Katrina.

And while a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, that caused little or no damage to the city, compares very little to the tragic aftermaths of either of these happenings, I did learn some of my own important lessons.

1. I learned that it’s important to experience fear—that it’s important to know how you will handle yourself in the moments that will test you and your strength—the moments that will ask you to be a teammate—the moments that will challenge you and teach you—the moments that will define you. Today, I learned that what was important to me wasn’t just myself, but those people who have been around me for the last year and a half—who have pushed me to be the best I can be at work and that have taught me how to exceed in this working world. Like high school field hockey, I cheered on my teammates to safety and quickly make it to the bottom. From my head-on-encounter with fear, I learned that I don’t panic and that I can lead.

2. I learned that material things don’t matter—and that when a unforeseeable accident is lurking, it’s better to just go, get to safety, and concern yourself with missing items later—that the wallet with your ID, the credit cards, and the social security card mean nothing if you aren’t there to claim them—that if there is less than 10 minutes to leave a space that could fall to the ground, then you better leave the rest behind so you don’t get left behind too.

3. And finally, I reaffirmed exactly what was most important to me. Twenty minutes before the floor began to shake, I emailed my mother who I hadn’t heard from in several days and asked if everything was okay? It is odd to go half a day without an email, let alone three. As I reached the 13^th floor of the building, my body felt as if it had just received a direct IV of adrenaline and my family’s picture flashed into my foresight. Now, the bottom of the building didn’t look like the plaza I normally come up off the subway into each day. No, it instead resembled my home, in Pennsylvania, which I remembered vaguely shaking during a terrible storm when I was younger. During that storm, my mother, my brother, and I sat and watched as things fell from shelves, but after a moment, the shaking was over. Now, I hoped that when my right foot hit the last step, the shaking would be over—the storm would be passed—and that I could call my family to let them know that I was okay—that it was just a building malfunction, that the construction work on the 25^th floor caused something awful to happen on mine—that 9/11 hadn’t just happened all over again. As I neared the bottom, it was less important what was happening—than who I may not get to talk to after it all happened.

Sunlight began shining through the doors as we passed under exit signs to the outside world. It had felt like we traveled through a warp hole, as people were leisurely sitting and speaking to one another outside. “Did we just all imagine the building shaking?”

I was thankful to see a calmness in the world. It was an instant relief that nothing serious was happening—that my race down 26 flights of stairs wasn’t one that was with a collapsing building—that there was no attack—and that what we had experienced was a minimal natural disaster.

I reached for my cell phone, which I had fortunately kept in my pocket for the majority of the day. I quickly learned that cell phone calling service was down, texting worked, and that email was functioning.

Rushing across traffic, still a bit nervous that the tower of our building may collapse due to some sort of after shock, I emailed my family, counted my lucky stars, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did you feel the earthquake,” my best friend texted me.

I sure did.

Momma always said, "Never Talk to Strangers..." I say just don't take candy from men in white vans...

My mother always told me never to talk to strangers. That was pretty high up on the “don’t do list,” right along with, “don’t ride your bike to a pharmacy at 8:00 am without my permission.” Because—Yes I did that on multiple occasions, with my next door neighbors, until we got caught. We weren’t buying drugs…well…we weren’t buying illegal drugs—just enough caffeine and sugar to get us to the next sun rise.

When my mom found out that I had been sneaking off with the boys, I was punished for a length of time that felt like centuries. Thank god that punishment didn’t deter me from going against my mother’s rules for the rest of my life…because I’d never have many of the friendships or networks that I currently have now.

You see, I learned much too quickly that if you never talk to strangers, you’ll never make new friends—and that is especially true in what I consider to be my home now: New York City.

As I turn to my left, a man with a Bruins hat smiles as he watches people walk by. I ask if he is from Massachusetts. Of course he is. But I ask anyway. “I grew up there.” “Congratulations,” I say, “That Stanley Cup, it was a long time coming.” We continue talking for a few moments and then bask in the sunlight.

I turn to my right and a man’s Iron Man drawstring bag is exposed for passer-bys to see. I reach out and ask if he has ever ran one.

“3, actually,” he modestly says without breaking a stride in his facial expression.

We continue to speak for fifteen minutes—me in awe of his accomplishments—him attempting to convince me that a triathlon is definitely in my future. We laugh. We compliment one another’s accomplishments. We talk some more. And then we exchange business cards, and not before long…he is on his way.

Strangers.

Strangers are amazing people. They can teach you about life, about an event, or about yourself—and in a brief moment, they can become your friend.

A good friend of mine from college recently pointed out that I have this ability to get along with anyone, to reach out, to spark a conversation, to laugh, to make a joke, with just about anyone that I meet. It’s the exact reason why she never worries about bringing new friends of hers out to meet me. In fact, I’ve even begun spending time with her friends, while she’s away for the summer. Why? Because they’ve become my friends too. And that’s why I love people—and why I love talking to people, and why disobeying one of the world’s most golden rules, is the best decision I continue to make on a daily basis.

Because that’s what life is about—meeting people, connecting with people, forming friendships, forming relationships, creating bonds—imagining together—developing life-long dreams with.

I say: Talk to all the strangers in the world because you never know what he or she will do for you—or what he or she will become to you. Strangers really are just friends we haven’t met yet.

….But if you do happen to be under 15 and a stranger in a white van offers you candy, please, please, please…Just say no.

Sometimes we lose an artist so he can draw a better world...

“There was no one out there who didn’t want to be Breht Boone’s friend. // A world-class conversationalist // Genuine .”

The Knicks are struggling in what could be their final game of the season. The Celtics are pounding, and the scoreboard reads four eights across the board: 88-88. The bar is rowdy and alive. The waitresses are hustling and the bartender is sliding shots down the line. The world is still moving, but a table of four that will soon grow to a table of 5,6, and eventually 15-20 is at a standstill.

I look across the table to one of the best friends that I have made here in this big endless city that sometimes echoes loneliness even when a bar is filled to capacity. His eyes try to swallow his tears, but they are unable.

“I just don’t know when I’ll break down again,” he says to us. One of his best guy friends reaches for his hands, and we nod in agreement. A night like this isn’t supposed to be easy—like the Knicks losing in the final seconds—this family feels the struggle of a tough battle—one that saw the loss of not a championship trophy, but a champion—a person who smiled beautifully, drew poetically, and lived genuinely. A person who would one day build a gallery of art to auction off. A person who allowed each person whose life he became a part of to be the highest bidder and have the opportunity to be a part of his.

I didn’t know Breht Boone that well. Before I met him, I knew of his epic alliterative name and of his art, of his kindness and his sincerity--and I before I met him, above all, I knew that I wanted to be his friend. Before ever speaking a word to him, shaking his hand, or giving a head nod hello, I knew that I wanted to one day have him be part of my life. The family of friends that I had been invited into last year had spoken so highly of him that I often declared to some of them, “Damnet, when do I get to meet Breht Boone?“

And then one day I did. And every word I had heard about the man, the artist, the cheerful soul, was undoubtedly true. It wasn’t before long that Breht and I were having a conversation with two, three, and then four other people about movies we hated, movies that were awesome, and movies that we couldn’t agree on. It wasn’t before long that I could see why each and every person I had met before Breht, had such kind and enduring words to say about him, his personality, and his talent.

Now, sitting in a bar with his New York City family, I can see their pain, their hurt, and their disengagement with any world that exists outside the one they are living in. Time has stopped. And even if the trains are moving, the streets are humming, and the lights in Times Square are glowing, this family doesn’t know that. They know what they are feeling and whom they are feeling it with. My friend is no longer trying to swallow his tears, his face is red, his hair is ruffled, and his body seems tired. Several others join him. From across the bar, I see others laughing over memories they have over the charismatic comic book fan, the man I was often told to be the last man standing at parties, the man they all loved and believed in. I see my good friends, remembering their great friend…their brother…their reminder that great people do exist in this world—people who are probably too good for this world anyway.

On the night that I met Breht, he reached to grab his phone and show me examples of his drawings. He told me how he was planning an art show, how excited he was for it, and how everything was coming together. It may not be the art show we all expected, but I am pretty sure he’s going to draw us a pretty beautiful and amazing gallery of a better world from up above.

Paying Tribute to Best Friend Appreciation Day

I'm not sure that Best Friend Appreciation Day actually exists, and it would only take a moment to Google it, but I declare today, April 17, to be my Best Friend Appreciation Day--the day I take the moment to recognize how a stranger--or a group of strangers became an acquaintance or a group of acquaintances--and then became a friend or a group of friends--and then my wonderful, beautiful best friend---or again--group of best friends--never to be traded, never to be altered, never to be lost.

Sometimes, as you watch someone walk away, all you can do is smile, knowing that a piece of your life has been made better by one simple second with that person, or by one simple conversation, or by one simple moment where you took the time--and that person took the time to say "Hey, let's take one time to just sit down, talk, discover, and learn from each other." Sometimes your life is simply made better by a friend that you never -- ever imagined having come into your life--that you never could have predicted would step into your world -- that you never would have guessed would go from someone you once said hello to in passing to someone you hoped you'd never have to say goodbye to.

The last time I said goodbye to my best friends, I was boarding an airplane to another country, just a few short days--and/or hours later. Their smiles were for the happiness that awaited me on the landing pad of my near future destination. Their goodbyes were filled with "You will have such a great time, you will be so happy--you will see so much." It reminds me of how we should always say goodbye to someone we love--or--see you later to someone who has entered our life for a short period of time--or long period of time, with a smile on our face even if we are sad in our hearts, because the truth is that person will be leaving for a new journey, a new future, a new world, with a smile on their face and hope in their heart.

I am so lucky to have had the best friends in the entire world to know how to say goodbye the right way, to know how to love people and their decisions, to know how to understand different worlds are for different people, to know that saying goodbye to people is seriously just "Be happy, and enjoy it...we'll still be here--forever, and always." The best friends that you make always will be the best teachers that you have.

My best friends have taught me a lot of things like how to:

Enjoy the moment--See the world--Follow my dreams--Live passionately--Understand others--Find happiness--Be independent--Live on the edge--Follow through with promises--Listen well--Speak well--Take time to relax--Take time to have fun--Make the best out of a bad situation--and how to Love.

When I was a freshman in college, I sent my best friends hand made Valentine's Day cards that stated what a best friend was--to me. Before I left for Italy, just under six months ago, one of my best friends sent that back to me. She wouldn't know it, maybe not 'til now at least, but it meant the world. In Moulin Rouge, they state that the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. I have come to a firm standing that one of the other most greatest things in the world to learn--and discover, is how to be a best friend--and how to have a best friend--how to love that best friend--and how to be loved by that best friend. One of the most wonderful feelings in the world is knowing that the people you care most about--also care most about you. And those people won't ever change, even if miles change, even if locations change, even if lifestyles change.

My childhood best friend, and I still speak, still laugh, and still love each other. I will never stop loving her the way I loved her when we had our sleepovers, built forts in the woods, or made up really bad dances to the Spice Girls or 'N Sync. If she was the best at one time--she will always be one of the best to me, now and in the future--no matter the circumstance.

A lot of people may say you can only have one best friend. I don't think that's true. Many people are lucky to come across a handful of people that they can call a friend. I consider myself lucky to have come across what I consider to be handfulS (note the S) of best friends--people that I will always go to, that I will always trust, that I will always LOVE.

These are the people that I will always have an appreciation for--every day--even if there's never a day declared for it.