This month, I celebrate three years as publisher of this wonderful magazine. Part of my job includes writing this letter each month. Having to do this has sparked an old love of writing. It has been a blessing. I have decided to take a leap and put all of the letters into a book, titled A Year of Inspiration. Revising three years’ worth of letters, I have come to realize a few things. First, once in a while, I seem to have solid insight; second, even when I am at my most insightful in print, I don’t always walk the talk; and third, while it takes courage to pour my heart and thoughts out to you all in these letters, it gives me even more courage when you call or write to tell me that they mean something to you.
Why do I say I don’t walk the talk? Well, it looks to me like most Januarys, I advise everyone to stick to their resolutions. In early spring, I talk about loving yourself. Deep into summer, I ask that you play, run, surf, and I even recommended in one letter that you yell “cannon ball” as you jump into your neighbors’ pool. In the fall, like now, I seem to write about new beginnings and kindness. Yet, I do not always practice what I preach. My resolutions to give up sugar fail each year (I am chowing on candy corn as I write this); I find fault with myself daily (candy corn binging can bring a whole new form of self-loathing); and often work responsibilities don’t always allow time for play (in fairness, I do have to pay for this candy corn). Thank goodness for the fall!
Another theme that runs consistently through these last three years’ worth of letters (other than a weak attempt at humor) is forgiveness. Most often, I write about forgiving ourselves. To forgive yourself, you must first recognize your own flaws: I am sometimes a know-it-all; oftentimes a perfectionist; I have been known to be judgmental; and, yup, I am sometimes a candy-chomping bitch. Seriously, if this letter is my confessional (which it sometimes feels like), I admit I do something wrong daily. What’s worse is I am really hard on myself when I behave in any- thing but an evolved manner. I ruminate on the various missteps I take for months. Aren’t we all that way? Well, the good news is that I dub this season “forgiveness fall”! Let’s forgive ourselves for who we are, and go one step further and congratulate ourselves for who we want to be! Can you guess who I want to be? Someone like YOU, who has the kindness to tell someone like me, “I liked your letter this month.” That’s who I want to be.
I want to tell others how they touch me. The woman who sits behind me in church has a beautiful voice. Why have I never told her? If I do, I am sure she would only sing louder! I easily forget the power of a compliment. Until a month like last, when I received so many of them. Without those compliments—without such overwhelming response—I never would have had the courage to work on a book. I sincerely thank you.
In this month’s issue of Natural Awakenings Long Island, we offer ideas to improve the planet and change your biome (goodbye candy corn), and advice on how to be a better, healthier you. Did you fail yesterday at being a better, healthier you? Start again today. The leaves are changing. They change every year, and you can, too. I can, too. Let’s be who we want to be and then take it one step further and tell each other what we find wonderful about each other (careful doing this with random strangers though, they may think you are nuts). Start small—you already are much more perfect than you give yourself credit for. My small step in being who I want to be? … Yup, you guessed it, it starts with tossing this yummy candy corn!
Malama Pono!
Kelly Martinsen, Publisher
