Finding Your Wild 56 Unique & Life-Changing Apps Infusing Calm Into your Workplace 40+ Little Milestones Worth Celebrating The Anti-Hustle
S TA MP IN G T O N & C O M PA N Y SEP/OCT/NOV 2018 DISPLAY UNTIL 11/26/18
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B E L L AG RA CE MA GA ZI NE . CO M
Simplicity of the Mind
Words & Photographs by Kaetlyn Anne Kennedy
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I
have been doing pretty well simplifying the physical aspects of my life. I’ve gotten rid of a ton of clothes, simplified my beauty routine, and cut down on the things that I own. I thought I was doing pretty well, but for some reason I still felt surrounded by clutter. I was desperate to get rid of more, but no matter how many shirts I stacked in my give-away pile, it wasn’t satisfying that itch. That’s when I realized: I’m simplifying my home but not my mind. The previous year was huge in my simplifying journey in a physical sense. That is why a lot of my New Year’s intentions were centered on simplifying mentally and internally more so than externally. Both are equally important, because they piggyback off of each other, but the mental simplification is where I am in my journey and what I need most right now. Maybe you are feeling the same way. Here are a few things that are helping me simplify mentally. By implementing these small changes, I have more room to breathe and simply life fully without feeling pulled in a million directions.
1. Letting Things Go
I’m that person who cannot — cannot — sleep until everything is done. I have to have a clean room, close my closet door, and make my bed before I get into it to go to sleep. I do like being this way for the most part because I enjoy having a fresh start to my day each morning. But there is a line and I need to be able to determine whether I need to tone it down a little. If I had a really long day and I’m super exhausted, I need to choose to go to sleep even if there are dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor. And not lay there thinking about the dishes or the clothes! I have a hard time turning my brain off at night and not thinking of the thousands of things I need to do the next day. I have to stop feeling guilty if I don’t finish every single thing on my to-do list. It feels great when I do, but I am not a failure if I don’t. That’s life. Things happen. Sometimes you take a nap instead of writing a paper. It’s OK because that’s just life. » BELLAGRACEMAGAZINE.COM
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A CHAPTE R I N THE
Bela Grace Story Words by Elle Harris
T
here are very few experiences I’ve had in my life that have left me wordless. In fact, I would guess that I could count on one hand the number of times it has happened. Words are sort of my trademark, and finding myself without them is somewhat akin to standing lost on a deserted road. But wordless was exactly where I found myself recently, and I’m still not entirely sure that I can fully process the gravity of being lost in that moment. For some time now, Bella Grace has been an instrumental part of my life and my writing career. It started with a love affair … the thick pages of prose and poetry sweeping my reader’s heart off its feet. Later, I had the beautiful opportunity to have multiple pieces published, and was then featured on the affiliate blog, Grace Notes. From sitting poolside or fireside and curling up with the company of Bella words, to penning my next piece for submission, I thought I’d loved the magazine fully before. As it turns out, I had barely scratched the surface of what Bella Grace means to me. One of the greatest benefits of being a part of the Bella Grace family has been all of the people I have met through her pages. I’ve followed and been followed by countless other writers, photographers, and artists through this publication, and the connections have organically grown into a lovely
ordinary ife can e xtraordinary and at agic can e ound n e veryday.” And yet, I had no idea how true it all was, until I met Michelle.
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Milles Studio
extension of the mission, “An
Shortly after being published in the Fall 2016 Issue, I began following a fellow Bella Grace author and poetic gourmet kitchen owner on Instagram: Michelle Gerrard-Marriott of The Vibrant Kitchen and Home. I was enamored with her work, her words, and her mission; I quickly found myself “liking” almost every one of her posts but never commenting. One day, I decided to take the two extra seconds to tell her how much I appreciated her post, and she replied almost instantly by telling me how I was an inspiration to her and that my words had helped her endure. I had no idea what she could have meant, but thanked her, knowing full well her poetic posts were the real treasure. A few moments later, I received a message from her that set me on that speechless road. Michelle went on to tell me about her beautiful best friend who, at 28 years old, was taken by cancer. She said that when Katrina (her friend) was in her final days of hospice, Michelle would read my poem from Bella Grace “Remembering Light,” to her, over and over as she rested. She said that she will never forget her smile as she read. How are there words to follow such an admission? What thanks could I possibly offer? Unbeknownst to me, my words were being used to soothe, to calm, and to carry her spirit as it crossed from this life to the adventure waiting beyond it. ere
could ever e a iterary accolade ore eaningful an eing n at oment.
When I finally did catch my breath from crying, and catch my words from escaping me, I wrote back to precious Michelle. I asked her to tell me all about Katrina, and when she did I asked her permission to write a poem, once again, just for her. After a few days, and countless prayers that I would be able to honor Katrina’s memory properly, I sent Michelle a piece titled “As She.” »
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I remember what she did next so clearly. She took off her glasses and scooted her chair closer to me. Then she brushed back her wild gray hair, looked in my eyes, and said, “Shelli, you need to take up your fair share of space in this world.” All I could do was stare at her and blink back my tears until I could whisper something like, “I can do that.” Claudia, if you’re out there, you changed my entire life that afternoon. She wasn’t telling me to be aggressive with my opinions; she was just giving me permission to have them. She was giving me permission to be myself without apologizing for it.
\`VX ƤTf WTk äƟ UƜ` a` T cgXef fƣ ^\Ɵ fƣ ƤX Ɵdk Uag`WTd\Xe aY _k ai` eb\d\fK If I were forced to guess, I would guess that you, dear fellow reader, are kind. I would guess that you are conscientiously trying to make your days as harmless as possible. I do too, and I safeguard that kindest part of myself. What I’ve come to discover, though, is that my own eagerness to do no harm can be a sneaky stumbling block to living the authentic life I crave. I really hate that. So now when I want to do something I think might cause a stir, I pause and question my own motives. The raging Facebook post I didn’t write about that woman at Costco who criticized my mothering didn’t need to be said. I was just mad. But if I hadn’t made that comment at book club about divorce, I’d have felt like I was trying to be someone I’m not, so I spoke up. I ruffled some feathers, but I made new friends as those feathers smoothed back down. f iTe egV[ T dX^\XY fƣ ƞX
ƤTf W\eTZdƜ_X`f WaXe`äf [TƟ fƣ _XT` W\e^\]XK Being an authentic wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and human being is messier than I thought it would be. There aren’t precise rules to follow; I just have to be the kindest version of my true self and let that be enough. I find that infuriatingly difficult sometimes, but there’s no other way. Aurora isn’t real. ƣL UXTgf\Yg^
iad^WL fT]X gb Ƥ\e _gV[ ebTVXK Y Ug_b \`fƣ kag ä_ fdg^k eaơkL T`W \Y kag Ug_b \`fƣ _X äƢ fafTƢk YadZ\Ɵ kagK Shelli Snyder is 5 feet tall and has four daughters. She is a gregarious introvert with big dreams and an irrational phobia of the mystery stains in library books.
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Lumina
40+ Little Milestones WO RT H CE L E BRA TI N G
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When we think of milestones, we often think of big birthdays or anniversaries. We like to think milestones can also be something smaller, like the day you decided to stop covering those gray hairs that just keep multiplying. Big or small, there are so many moments in life worth celebrating. We asked our readers what milestones they’ve recently celebrated and were touched by all of the responses. We feel honored that you shared some really amazing larger ones with us, and we’re rejoicing right along with you. Here, we’re sharing our favorite smaller milestones that have recently been reached.
1.
Navigating through airports across the U.S. on your own later in life. After never traveling alone, I succeeded in doing this on my own. The freedom is scary at first, but after lifting my luggage into the overhead compartment, I realized I can do this. — Marcy McCallister
2.
Watching fruit grow for the first time on a peach tree I planted. Eating the first ripe blueberry of the year out of my own backyard. Watching my son tie his shoe. Watching my daughter hit her first home run. Realizing I am my favorite company to keep. Finally getting a good night’s sleep.
— @jesseihde 3.
Going on a retreat by myself at the age of 70. I traveled alone for the first time to Kauai, renting a car and finding my way. It was very empowering for me. — Patricia Mark
4.
Because of a nickel allergy when I was a kid, I was unable to wear braces. At 40 years old, and through the miracle of technology, I am rocking braces for the next 22 months. — Brandi Truesdel
5.
I joined a small community chorus in January of 1987. I have now been in the group longer than anyone except for one person. When I hit my 30th anniversary with the group, I marveled at the swift passage of time and was so very pleased and proud to not only still be a member, but to be a part of something that has grown exponentially into something marvelous. — Virginia Lincoln BELLAGRACEMAGAZINE.COM
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P ROMP T Have you ever been so happy to do something that may seem trivial to others? Perhaps you finally put your hair up in a somewhat decent-looking French braid, or you painted your fingernails without getting the polish everywhere. These little milestones are important to celebrate because they’re important to you. So, on this page, take some time to list all the things worth celebrating. We’ll celebrate them with you.
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Ǖ
my 60th year finds me still astonished.
Ǥ Ǖ
Bonninstudio
—
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P ROMP T Children or no children, we all need something to do alone that makes us feel alive. It doesn’t have to be something big and crazy, sometimes it can be something as simple as a solo trip to an antique mall, searching through all the wonderful finds. What things you do you do alone that bring light into your life? What solo excursions would you like to try?
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‘‘I hate small talk. I wanna talk about
atoms,
death, aliens,
sex, magic, intellect,
the meaning of life, faraway galaxies, the lies you’ve told,
your flaws,
your favorite scents,
your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your
insecurity and fears.
I like people with
depth,
who speak emotion from a twisted mind. I don’t want to know
‘‘what’s up.’’ — Author Unknown
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ON E BO O K, O N E P AGE ,
One Day at a Time Words by Tina Zarlenga Photograph by Melanie Defazio
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s I examined the overflowing bookshelf, a thought of dread washed over me. “Will I ever get through all these books?” One book in particular constantly caught my eye —“The Encyclopedia of Me,” a guided journal I purchased after reading the popular “Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life,” by the late Amy Krouse Rosenthal. This blank journal taunted me with another reminder of my faltering intentions. Someday had still not arrived and the blank pages mocked me judgingly. The demands of a busy life and caring for others gnawed at my heartstrings as I watched abandoned goals slip through another year. Thoughts tumbled with a quest for change as I questioned my dependability for others’ needs, but never for my own. Just as curiosity nudged for more, I discovered Jerry Seinfeld’s joke-writing routine. Jerry’s method was simple: In order to be a better comedian, he had to write more jokes, so he committed to writing one joke a day. Afterward he would mark the day with a red X on a large wall calendar, creating a chain of repetition. The mission was not just about writing that joke, but moreover to keep the momentum of the red X without breaking the chain. I decided to test his theory with the New Year and a new calendar of my own in an attempt to turn my goals into a routine.
With this shot of inspiration, I devised a plan. Instead of viewing all these books as an overwhelming chore, I would begin with one book, one page, one day at a time. With this slow and steady progress, I began reading more. This seedling sprouted motivation in several areas when I compiled a list of non-negotiable tasks I would complete at the start of each day. Waking early with enthusiasm and a warm glass of lemon water, the momentum led me in a new direction. I penned my morning pages and then followed it up by answering one prompt in “The Encyclopedia of Me.” Brief meditation, 10 minutes of reading, and a few stretches later, I had created a 30-minute routine I felt proud to complete. Today, nearly 200 X’s connect the days of my calendar. A routine compiled of books and devotionals, strength and meditation, and a promise to myself I have kept. Thanks to the methods of Jerry Seinfeld and a few X’s on a calendar, I begin each day with the tiny steps that have fulfilled goals. Discovering that change occurs in the creation of habit, I let go of expectation and finish each morning with inspiration and a red X. Here are a few of the books I enjoyed while on this journey: n “ Encyclopedia of Me“ by Amy Krouse Rosenthal n “ Savor“ by Shauna Niequist n “ 100 Days to Brave“ by Annie Downs n “ The Happiness Project“ by Gretchen Rubin n “ Cultivate“ by Lara Casey n “ I’ve Been Thinking“ by Maria Shriver n “ 52 Lists Project“ by Moorea Seal n “ Grace not Perfection“ by Emily Ley
Tina Zarlenga welcomes email at ryzmomplus2@yahoo.com.
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HOW TO
Find Your Wild Words by Cassandra Key Photography by Andrew Yaremchuk
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S
ociety likes to put us in boxes. It likes to write our stories for us and pave paths we’re expected to walk on. We used to walk barefoot through the grass. We climbed trees and sang and spun in circles. We didn’t care who was watching. We left our hair unbrushed and swam in the rivers and let our minds expand with possibility. We didn’t know about the paths or the stories or the boxes, and if we did we thought we’d ignore them and make our own way. But then we stopped doing those things we did before. We packed our Wild into the boxes and handed over the pen. We put on shoes and walked the path. And maybe the path wasn’t so bad; it was smooth and easy and we could still see the trees. But we didn’t climb them. We forgot about the boxes with the wild things in them. We forgot who we were.
we are wild and magical and spinning within the universe we are dust and water and expanding with dreams wild wolf woman wild butterfly woman
i\^W XƟdk ia_T` We are breaking the chains. We are climbing out of the cages and smashing through the walls. We are opening those boxes because Wild is nature and nature does its thing without apology.
agL _XL iX fäe f\_X fƣ iXTd agd \^W TZT\`K »
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AN A CT O F
Radical Self-Care Words & Photographs by Tammy Strobel
“I support the social internet. I’m incredibly wary of social media. ” — CAL NEWPORT
F
or the past two years, I pondered quitting social media dozens of times. But I was too scared to leave because I thought I should use social media to promote my writing and photography. Instead of quitting, I began taking frequent social-media sabbaticals. During these breaks, I felt focused, less anxious, and slightly embarrassed by the amount of free time available in my daily schedule. When my self-imposed sabbatical ended, I’d log onto social media again. Each time I started using social media, I promised myself that I wouldn’t spend as much time scrolling through my feeds. To prevent bad habits from reemerging, I would set timers, use internet blocking apps (like Freedom), and turn my phone on Airplane Mode. Despite using all the tricks, my social media use increased, and my attention became fragmented. On March 23, 2018, I officially quit social media because I wanted my time and attention back. Then, I made a list of all my accounts, and during the first week of April I disabled or deleted the following accounts: Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, Tumblr, Slack, Twitter, Pinterest, YouTube, Google Plus, Fitbit, and Flickr. I wasn’t actively using all the channels listed above, but the accounts I regularly used — like Instagram and Facebook — fragmented my attention and made me feel like I was frittering away my time. To be clear, I wanted to leave social media, but I didn’t want to leave the social internet. »
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the
Anti-Hus e Words & Photographs by Paige Leigh Reist
Let’s talk about the whole concept of
e us e.
Man, does that word ever rub me the wrong way. The kind of working culture that hustle has come to represent and encourage is an exhausting, counter-intuitive, soul-sucking way to live. I’m all for hard work, don’t get me wrong — but what I’m not here for is turning every single interaction, relationship, interest, and activity into some sort of promotion or business venture. The whole idea of constantly hustling is especially poisonous for those of us who work in a creative capacity or cultivate a personal brand, whether for social validation, aesthetic expression, or out of professional necessity. Being a creator is already an emotionally vulnerable and challenging way to live. The things we create are little shards of our soul that we’re brave enough to send out into the world. We want them to do well. It’s the most human thing ever for us to want to make a good impression on others. That’s just instinct. But you are not on this earth to live your life for social media. Your life should not be an externally beautiful but essentially empty thing, carefully crafted for the consumption of others. Trust me, I’ve been there. Even though I’ve always tried to be authentic, I still carry a lot of embarrassment over how many things I’ve done solely for the ’gram, how many moments I’ve interrupted to take and edit a photo, and how many other successful creatives I’ve tried to emulate, all for the sake of a few more followers or page views. And God, the worst part is that it’s so addicting when it works. Validation! Popularity! Financial compensation! The promise of becoming one of the elite, fabled influencers! That sinking feeling, when the high wears off, that you’re a fraud and a faker … oh, wait. I am certainly not saying that you shouldn’t use social media, create industry relationships, or hone your craft. I’m saying that there has to be a part of your life that only belongs to yourself, or one of these days you’re going to wake up and feel like you have nothing real left.
You are g d nough. I read a piece of blogging advice a few years ago that royally messed me up. It was something along the lines of, “In order to create good content, you must live good content.” I’m sure it was meant to inspire the reader to live their best, boldest, most beautiful life, and I hope it did that for some people, but all it did for me was fill me with anxiety that my life wasn’t good enough for my career to be successful. That my relationships, hobbies, clothes, thoughts, feelings, and stories were all boring, because they didn’t look like what I was seeing in my Instagram feed. That little nugget of advice made me conceptualize my life as something best lived for other people to consume. Rather than helping me recognize the many beautiful, poetic moments in my life, it made the other parts of it seem bland and bad, not worth appreciating or sharing. » 136
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