Changing My Life, Again

It feels like every planet imaginable is in retrograde, and I broke a mirror while walking under a ladder with a black cat in front of me. The apartment of my dreams slipped through my fingers, and I don’t know where I’m going to live in a week. While the prices of living in LA constantly make me feel like I need to get a “real” job or sugar daddy ASAP, the stubborn free spirit within screams, “ I LIKE FREEDOM AND BABY FACES!”

As some of you may recall, about six weeks ago I said I was going to change my life. Through meditation, affirmations and self discipline, I was determined to improve myself and my life. Well, so much for that. To be fair, I had many triumphs during that time, especially with insights on my relationships and setting boundaries. However, this last week shit hit the fan and it’s time for changing my life take 2…. Or take 973,694,761.

So, what went wrong? Nothing. Everything is as it should be. Yet, it feels like absolute SHIT. Why? Maybe because comedians love to suffer on the DL? idk. In all seriousness, I feel like a big part of my work in this lifetime is self mastery. The ADHD, depression, anxiety, addictions, and plethora of other goodies my hand was dealt in this lifetime, is really a royal flush. 

It’s like getting socks for Christmas from Santa. When you’re a kid you’re like “God damnit why the fuck did Santa go to Costco for these off white socks when I asked for a slutty Bratz Doll??” Then, years later, you get socks and smile while the Bratz doll would have gotten a buzz cut and thrown in the trash years ago. 

This is my path, and my sensitive bitch ass will find my success no matter how many takes I need. I will find my success because of these challenges I move though. They are not here to try to stop me, but to heal me. These obstacles are opportunities for the self mastery I was designed to experience and transcend. Take 2 (or 973,694,761) starts now.

Emotionally Unavailable Man Magnet

Have you ever wondered why you’re in another situationship/relationship/fling with a guy who has the maturity or emotional intelligence of a fetus? Or, perhaps you continue to date someone who is controlling or manipulative. Whatever the case may be, I can relate when it comes to attracting a similar type of person. I’d like to introduce myself. Hello, I’m Emotionally Unavailable Man Magnet.

Currently, my crush is emotionally unavailable for a plethora of reasons, but I think the fact that he has a girlfriend is a good place to start. My last crush had just gotten out of a 6 year relationship with the love of his life who left him for another girl. I think it’s safe to say he had some kinks to iron out. I could go on for eons but you get the point.

A few months ago, I was talking to a fellow human being, (I was going to say friend, but that would have been a lie.) when he unexpectedly read me faster than Harry Potter back in 1998. I felt naked, and although I’m pretty sure I literally was at the time, I’m speaking figuratively. 

Why? Well, somehow we got on the topic of relationships. After he spoke of his past love/ trainreck of an ex fiancé back when he was 18, I mentioned how I’d never been in love. That’s when the reading glasses came on. He took a drag of his cigarette from my bedroom porch before he spoke.

“You probably started to fall for someone back when you were like 15, and before anything could actually happen, he hurt you, and now you never let yourself go that far because you don’t want to get hurt again.” I sat at the edge of my bed with my mouth wide open. He smirked like he just spoiled the ending of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince without my consent. 

Instantly, my mind was flooded with thoughts and memories that made my heart ache. I began to ruminate about the boy I liked when I was 15, and how that became the catalyst for self harm and a suicide attempt. I also questioned if that connection could possibly still be affecting me over a decade later. To be honest, it wouldn’t have been the first time I asked myself that. I started to regret swiping right on this dude that was now pouring himself another drink while I sat in a state of inner turmoil. 

I began to ask myself, is the reason I crush on emotionally unavailable men because I unconsciously feel safer from harm? Is that why I tend to attract those experiences? Could going down this rabbit hole solve anything? The answer to the latter is possibly, but why not tell myself a new story instead? Maybe that was true, but that was then and this is now. Now, I don’t need a magic potion or wand to start shifting my perspective on life and love. It won’t be as easy as saying “Wingardiujm Leviosa!” but acknowledging that it is safe for me to be open to love, and more importantly, paying attention to my passions and projects rather than penis, will steer me in the right direction.

It’s time to tell ourselves the stories we want to read. I’m throwing away that old emotionally unavailable man magnet tale. I am a magnet for personal development and opportunities for positive change. I’d like to reintroduce myself. Hello, I’m Brooke Lyn Landon, and I’m a magnet for forward movement, and continuously creating a life of fulfillment.

I Will Never Try Again

I remember constantly feeling like the chick in that viral meme, looking confused, with complex calculations on a blackboard behind her. I was always trying to figure out what I should do and what steps to take next. On the outside I’m sure I held it relatively together, but inside I was shabby chic without the chic.

When I started solo backpacking the world, I set out with absolutely no timeline or itinerary. Even the thought of trying to plan out all the logistics had me more stressed than Jim Carey in Liar Liar. So, I just showed up everyday to see where the world wanted to take me.

I stopped trying and started being. My being didn’t always know what I was doing, or even where I’d sleep the next night, but life always worked itself out. Heck, I ended up staying in a strangers empty apartment so I could have a free place to stay in Japan. It made for a great adventure and story, but I am now realizing I’m causing my mom some serious emotional distress because she likely has just read about this questionable life choice I made. But hey, I’ve made it this far without really trying, so I must be doing something right.

From the start of my travels, life has taken me to places I never in a million thought I’d be. I never could have planned or tried to make it happen myself. Opportunities presented themselves to me effortlessly. I used my gut instead of my logic and now I’m getting paid to travel the world. Like breadcrumbs leading to a gingerbread house, I’ve followed the path life made for me instead of trying to make a path, and then starving because I had no bread to eat. I’ve made better metaphors, but you get the point.  

I’ll never try to get to a gingerbread house though. Why? Because as cliche as this sounds, it’s about the journey, not the destination. That’s because life is one big never ending journey. When you try to find the gingerbread house through forced effort, that evil bitch of a witch that lives in the gingerbread house will stop you in your tracks, and point you in a different direction.

Now don’t get me wrong, some things you certainly need to try to do. Like to get good grades, you need to try, and you need to use your logic. I tried and used my logic to cheat as often as possible, but I made it to the high honor roll every semester, so no regrets. Nonetheless, I had to try to find the way to beat the system. As for Josh Rosenberg, the only person who was always ahead of me on the honor roll, he actually tried through hard work to get those grades. What this post is about isn’t that kind of trying though.

I guess what I’m talking about is getting into the flow of life and trusting it. It comes down to using your gut instead of logic. It’s being instead of trying. It’s allowing instead of forcing.

I’m sure I’ll try again at some point. As much as I don’t want to, it’s only natural to have some challenges that throw you off your game, and make you feel like you need to control your life. That said, I will never try again so long as I can help it. 

Is it Destiny or a Total Mindfuck

I’m sure you’ve heard of the words destiny and freewill, yes? Well, is it just me, or is that a total mindfuck? Is my life destined to pan out a certain way? Can I fuck around however I want, and because I wasn’t a total dick in a past life, things will be Gucci? Or, is it my freewill that creates my fate? I’m about to get deep, with a side of sarcasm and sailors tongue, as I try to uncover this conundrum.

Before I get into my thoughts on the matter, I want to preface with the fact that I take everything I believe with a grain of salt. Who am I to say that out of 7 billion people on this planet, all of my beliefs are better or more accurate than everybody else’s? Do I still think I’m right? Naturally. Am I open to being wrong? No. Haha just kidding. Obviously I am.

Now that that’s out of the way, I believe life is like the Google Maps GPS. There are a few destinations that are important to make for our evaluation on earth, but if we choose to go down a path that wasn’t suggested, the system, or our inner compass, will reroute. Then, maybe you’ll see the recalibrated path and roll your eyes while clenching your fists like the Arthur meme. Or, perhaps if you looked at it through a more conscious lens, you’ll see the growth and beauty in the journey. Who knows, maybe your freewill could give you a lottery win or a sugar daddy. That also could just be my wishful thinking talking right now.

Have you ever felt like Google Maps took you the most shit way to your destination? I’m pretty sure I’ve sworn to never use it again several times. Well, life kinda does that to you too. Freewill contributes to the way you interpret these scenarios. You can choose to be a little bitch about it (No judgment here, I’ve been that bitch) or you can learn from it while simultaneously acknowledging and accepting your feelings.

Now, was it destiny that my friend Elise met Kavin on our night out in Hanoi, Vietnam? Well, at first it looked like it would be more of a shit show than anything. He seemed like a nice guy, but after all of the other guys swooning over her, I didn’t think she’d go for the one hammered out of his mind, constantly raving about Ed Sheeran. I remember it like it was a month ago. Oh wait, that’s because it was. Now he stayed in Vietnam for her and they fucking live together. Oddly enough, I don’t think it was a coincidence. They’ve met and their lives will forever be different. For fucks sake, the dude moved to Vietnam, so of course it will be. Maybe he recalibrated the GPS using his freewill, but their paths were destined to cross at this time. Why, I’m still not sure, but I love it.

What should you believe? It doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is if you make a choice, you listen to your gut and follow your joy. What matters is that the places life takes you, whether you call it destiny, or a mindfuck, embrace it and take the lessons they bring.

I’m not sure if the mystery of this mindfuck called life was solved, but opening topics like this up for discussion is important and thought provoking. At the end of the day, idgaf. I had fun and hopefully you enjoyed reading it too. 

What Will I Do Once My Dream is Over

I have plenty of dreams, and one that I’ve had for the longest time is about to come true. In a few days I’ll be in Japan. If I got tattoos of things I’ve been obsessed with at some point in my life, I’d probably have a Hello Kitty tramp stamp, manga sleeve, all that Morning Glory store crap on my calves, a miso soup face tattoo, and throw in a couple geishas and Harajuku girls while I’m at it.

When I think about going to Japan now, I get so excited, but I also instantly picture that money emoji with wings flying away. I will try to make that forever tomorrow’s problem. What I am unnecessarily making today’s problem is finding out what to do once my dream is over.

Like I said, I have plenty of dreams, but when this one is over, I don’t have a plan of what step to take next. Im going back to a country where I have no home, or idea what will happen. The world is my oyster, and though that is a dream to many including myself, it’s an overwhelming amount of responsibility and choices. I trust that it will all unfold as it should, or as my friend’s tattoo says “It’ll probably be fine.”  That said, it made me think about what more I can do to help me through the phase when a dream is over.

I’ve come to realize, the easiest way to move through this, is to get excited about the next phase, step, or event of my life. It could be acknowledging the tremendous growth this next chapter will bring, my next trip, or that dream that I get the feels just thinking about. As long as it’s not triggering in some way, focusing on another dream, event, or positive thought, will have me smiling because it happened rather than crying because it’s over.

However, focusing on a dream is not to say forget about where you are. This is not a day dream to take you to Neverland. If you feel like shit, acknowledge and process your feelings. Know that your mind is afraid but your heart knows what to do and will guide you if you let it. Then remember more is on its way.

This may be the end of one dream, but there are plenty more dreams to be fulfilled and that will come true. All that exists is the present and I know that sounds cliche as fuck but it’s the truth and you know it. In times like these, it’s when I need to focus and consciously do what I can to move forward with a positive mindset. I’d be lying if I said it would be a walk in the park, but I’ll be walking on sunshine if I make the effort.

I’m not saying this because I think I know it all or feel like you don’t know wtf you’re doing. I’m saying this because it helps be process my feelings and walk on sunshine. I also do this in the hopes you’ll be able to join me on my walk in the sun too.

I’m About to Have a Midlife Crisis

I guess one could say I’m on the verge of having a bit of a midlife crisis. Not the crisis where I’m on my hands and knees begging for mercy. It’s more like the kind where I’m really hoping for some dude to come out of the sky and be like “Do this. It’s gunna be great. You’re awesome. Here’s some bomb, vegan, calorie free ice cream.” Like, is that too much to ask?

If someone were to ask me what I’m doing with my life, I’d probably have some basic white bitch answer like “Living my best life! #blessed” or some shit. That wouldn’t be lying. I’ve been traveling the world for months having the time of my life. That said, I can’t help but dwell on what’s around the corner when I return to the US.

Currently, I’m home free. I like to say that instead of homeless because it sounds cuter. I have no plans on how I’ll make money, where I’ll live, and most other things that are comforting to know. I’m a cross between an infant that doesn’t even know what’s on the other side of someone’s hands playing peekaboo, and a college dropout who doesn’t want to deal with all the BS. Great combo when 30 is creeping up and you see your friends with their 9-5 jobs, moving in with their significant others. If a guy can hold my interest for more than a month, I feel like I deserve a metal and one of those pageant sashes that says “Yass Queen! Keep those fingers crossed!”

So, how does one prepare for the inevitable depression that follows after the trip of a lifetime, or when you don’t know what the fuck is next? Or better yet, both at once.

My first instinct is to say the preparation involves a big trip to the grocery store, target, and some online retail therapy. However, I think the preparation is less about doing and more feeling.

Here’s how I feel. Everything to date has always and I mean ALWAYS worked out. Times like these are the pinnacle of ones own growth when looking back. The more of these challenges we face, the stronger and more prepared we are for the future. It’s a hustle, hurdle, and an advantage. Does it feel mildly terrifying and really icky? Yes. Will it be worth it in the end? Also yes. So, there you have it folks. That’s what you’ve got to tell yourself on the verge of a midlife crisis. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to keep me sane.

The Bus Ride From Hell

Many people refer to the sleeper bus from Laos to Vietnam as the bus ride from hell. I think that’s an understatement. This ride felt like purgatory on steroids. I’ll tell you why. 

I get to the bus where I see several other Americans waiting to board as I notice people from Laos getting on one after the next. Turns out, we have to wait until all of the locals board.

“Interesting, but no biggie, I’ll wait.” My ignorant, cheery ass thinks to myself, without a clue of the purgatory that awaited.

After waiting for what seems like forever, he gestures for us to come in as though we’re late. Then, I find a place in the back and put my stuff there.

“Nooo!! No!” The driver shouts at me to move. He shouted like he was the kind parent that yells at his kids in public and you’d think to yourself, “Yeah, that poor kid is going to need intensive therapy and be really fucked later on in life.”

Apparently, that back seat wasn’t back enough. I have to share a small space near the freakin’ toilet with the other Americans with no room between us. Essentially, I had to share a bed with strangers unlike any of the people from Laos. I’d be the first to admit I’ve grown up with white privilege. For one of the first times, I felt like it was a disadvantage, and related to other races on a different level than before.

I couldn’t sleep whatsoever. For the first 15 hours the bus swerved and bumped around the mountains and dirt roads of Laos. I regretted not wearing my sports bra. Several times I was legitimately concerned for my life and the girl by my side who would probably get knocked out from me crashing into her. I grabbed on to my seat like the bus drivers imaginary kid would probably hold on to his mother when his dad yells at him.

Finally, the bus stops at 2AM at the boarder as we wait for customs to open at 6AM. My heart dropped as my eyes widened when I heard him take the keys out of the ignition and felt the AC turn off. Next this you know, I’m sweating my ass off to the point where sweat is dripping down my back and face. If there was a white flag, I would have waved it. I felt like crying.

At 5:30 AM I finally decided to try sleeping in the isle because I couldn’t sleep on that faux leather piece of shit. The floor was better, but I still felt like I was lying on a tortilla bought at the dollar store.

Less than 30 minutes later I hear yelling that customs are open. The customs were so chaotic that I’d rather go through the New York, JFK airport, during the holidays. If that didn’t make your skin crawl, you’ve either had a supernatural experience at JFK, or you have never been. No one spoke English and people dismissed you like you were the vein of their existence. Thankfully after customs the roads were smoother and generally it wasn’t as hellish.

Long story long, it was 15 hours of hell, and 12 hours of meh. I’m sure some busses are better than others. So, if you want to take on an experience like this, just make sure it’s more like a bed and less like one of those leather chairs you’d find in a retirement home minus the arm rests and padding. If there are blankets with cartoons and flowers on them, run away because that would be my bus. Also, be prepared to be treated like you don’t exist and surrounded by complete chaos for 15 hours or so.

For the record, I don’t regret it. I would never look back on a plane ride to Hanoi, Vietnam. The bus to Vietnam will be something to remember, and content for a blog post.

What I Realized From Having a Virus in a Developing Country

Yesterday, I spent several hours getting pumped with fluids in a hospital bed, in a developing country, alone. Believe it or not, those were the best three hours of that day. Well, not too hard to believe considering it was cheaper and easier than getting care in the US, I felt like a queen, and got to nap with no other agenda. Fuck. Yes. Every adults dream.

I thought by this point I was good enough to muster the strength of a 4 hour bus ride to Vang Vieng, Laos. Now however, I’m crippled with concern that this bus will be showing waterworks starring me. Main Attraction: Projectile Vomit Everywhere. I have a plastic bag ready, and trust me, my fingers have never been crossed so tightly because I want that show cancelled.

I always joked about how I was one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. Be careful what you wish for. Not only is that a load of BS, but it’s probably the opposite. The laundry list of food I’m going to want to tackle once I get my appetite back will give me enough rolls on my sides to feed a Mormon family. I can’t even imagine how the Australian dude who was next to me with Dengue fever is going to feel.

It puts things in perspective. Fuck being an “ideal” weight. That shit isn’t even ideal. It’s a standard created by mentally ill people. Screw all ideals! Most people are pretty messed up in the head, so I think it’s  safe to say the only logical ideal we should strive for is to be genuinely healthy and happy. That may be a no brainer, but hear me out.

When I took 8-10 gym classes a week and counted calories like it was my day job, I thought I was being healthy. What that’s really called is an eating disorder. When I was feeling good as a result of having social recognition and approval from other people in high school, I thought I was happy. That was masked insecurity. It’s harder to be truly happy and healthy regardless of our outside circumstances than we think. Though I’m constantly getting closer to that real healthy, happy place, I’d be lying if I didn’t internally huff and puff trying to fit into my old pair of shorts earlier today.

I think the first step to transcending the bullshit of expectations and unhealthy ideals is to become aware that life, for the most part, is a set of ideals and expectations that have been created by mentally sick people. People who thought happiness came from somewhere or something else. Or that if you didn’t have your life a certain way at a certain time, you were less than. By acknowledging that, at least I can be aware of the bullshit that it is. Awareness, patience, perseverance, and self acceptance of wherever we are, is a recipe to a genuinely healthier, happier life, and a smoother drive to Vang Vieng. I’m pleased to announce that I only have 20 minutes left of the ride, and I think the French boys next to me will stay dry.

Six Days of Silence: Journal Entries From My Silent Meditation Retreat

7/28/19

What does someone want to get from attending a silent meditation retreat at a monastery in Northern Thailand? It varies. Some may simply want to find stillness and peace, and others go with the intention to find themselves. Who knows, maybe the dude with a giant man bun made of dreads infront of me wants to levitate back home in a state of enlightenment.
I’m doing this to put myself out of my comfort zone because that’s where change happens. I go to grow. I don’t want to have expectations or a desired outcome. I want to see what the experience will bring me. Granted, if I were to have chosen a desired outcome, I probably would have wanted to leave turning water into wine, so I’d just be setting myself up for disappointment.
The highlight of my first day at the monastery was opening my eyes after a lying down meditation practice, only to realize I had fallen asleep. By that point, everyone else was sitting up, listening attentively to a monk sitting on the stage infront of a giant golden buddah statue. I made eye contact with a woman next to me who was clearly amused by my state of shock. I couldn’t blame her. I was too. Still, I internally judged her for not waking me up.
Now it’s day two. Considering the fact I talk like an auctioneer and eat like an elephant, the whole shutting up and fasting thing is going much better than expected. Almost too good. Maybe I’ll start to go insane tomorrow. That’s what most people had been telling me would happen at some point. That said, every experience is unique, and only time will tell. Highlight of day two was appreciating the beauty during a walking meditation practice.
*3 hours later* I was upgraded to a single dorm suit. Is it too materialistic and un-zen of me for that to be the new highlight of my day?
7/31/19

It’s certainly not getting easier, but I’m up for the challenge. At least I’m not looking like the young man sitting to my left. I haven’t seen someone fidget around so much since I was at the LIB music festival, but they were happy and on drugs.
Breakdown of my unconscious thoughts today goes as followed.
86% unnecessary worry and overthinking (Like I think the fact that I didn’t buy a souvenir in Sweden isn’t going to kill me, but the heart palpitations I get thinking about it during my meditation practice say otherwise)
12% comparing and judging myself (There’s no doubt all this pad thai has been taking a toll though)
2% other (probably food related)
Fun stuff.

8/2/19

As my time at the Wat Pa Tam Wua Forest Monastery comes to an end, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be walking out of here turning water into wine. Instead I’ll be walking away with something even greater. Mindfulness and a deeper sense of self. WAIT ! Before you internally roll your eyes and think “Dis generic ass bitch serious right now? I could have guessed that.” Understand that I’m not spitting those words out to sound like every basic bitch that travels Asia and floods her instagram with her adventures (Yes, I do that too, so no judgement there. @mindartists)
It’s not the awareness like “I’m aware Im eating right now.” Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to not mindlessly shovel food in your face like the day before you decide to start a diet. The mindfulness I speak of goes deeper.
It’s like getting a free Disney Fastpass to avoid the lines full of ungrateful grimy children and foreigners who have no sense of awareness or boundaries. You pass them instead of resentfully standing behind wondering what happened to your own morals and patience. You detach yourself from what you once identified so closely with, giving you a sense of liberation and peace. There’s certainly more on this topic, so stay tuned for a future blog post. For now, I’m signing out.

Best wishes always,
Your slightly more enlightened friend,
Brooke Lyn

It Doesn’t Matter Where You Are

I’m mid temple tour in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I’m surrounded by some of the most stunning and sacred temples in Northern Thailand, but the only place I want to be is back in Indonesia. I asked myself why I’m not stimulated by such beauty and found some answers shortly after observing my surroundings.

When I look to my left I see an elderly Asian couple from my group. They take an absurd amount of selfies, but who am I to judge. To my right is a squad of Spanish teenagers that look like they all went way too hard the night before. Behind me stands a couple who speak as though they only know how to talk about Voldemort, so they say nothing at all.

If I was with any of the people I befriended in Indonesia, I’d be laughing my ass off right now. Even if I was merely in the vicinity of them, I’d feel joy. So it’s not about where I am, it’s who I’m with.

We are co-creators. Life is meant to be shared. I used to cringe when I heard that saying because it reminded me about how I’m single as a dollar bill over here, but you don’t have to shag to share an incredible bond and experience.

Wait, I know what you’re thinking. What about being alone? Shouldn’t you be happy anywhere so long as you love yourself? Yep, my thoughts exactly. Maybe I still have a ways to go. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been very happy with who I am and being on my own this trip. I went to the night market alone last night and enjoyed my time there.

Could it be that witnessing others sharing experiences has me aware of the power and beauty of co-creation, and the void of not having that now is more apparent? Perhaps the amplification of my independence and freedom scares me. Maybe it saddens me because I’d rather have someone to depend on and be free with.

It could be so many things, but one thing’s  for sure. I trust that life will unfold beautifully and this is just a micro ebb in the flow of my travels. I’ve been in Chiang Mai for a little over 24 hours, so I’ve got to cut myself some slack for not having made a connection I’m really pumped about. Time to see what magic life brings me next.