In the grandest landscapes, pleasure can be a small detail.

Life Lessons Learned from the Pursuit of Pleasure

The ocean is a great teacher of failure.

1. It can lead you to colossal failure.

 
I recall being a depressed and angsty fifteen-year-old and vacationing with my family in San Diego. I am determined to become a surfer. I’m not even remotely athletic or strong enough for such a challenging sport. And yet something inexplicably draws me to surf, moving me to struggle in vain against the unforgiving beach break of Pacific Beach.
 
So there I am, parents and sister waiting patiently on the beach, a rented longboard, throwing all of the energy and strength I can muster into the onslaught of the whitewater. I thrash and struggle for what seems like hours, using every ounce of force and determination that I have just to stay upright and keep my head above water.
 
At last, I surrender. I have nothing left. I never even make it past the whitewater. The ocean has completely humiliated me. Ashamed, I hobble back to the beach on rubbery legs, sit down in the sand and stare at the ocean, holding back tears. Colossal failure.
 
The glittering promise of pleasure, of gliding along a wave gracefully, eludes me. I’m left with the truth: that I need to get stronger. That I need to fight harder. That the ocean can be unforgiving and brutal.
 
And while I can taste my hot tears of frustration mixing with dried salt water, I am still determined.
 
Although in later years I will experience the true pleasure of riding a wave, I believe it is this day at Pacific Beach that I become a surfer.
 

2. It isn’t where you think it is going to be.

 
I’m lucky to lead a life full of pleasure. The funny thing is, it’s almost never where I think it will be.
 
A couple of years back a friend and I embark on a labor-day “peak bagging” trip in the Colorado Rockies. We plan to summit two 14-ers and camp two nights in a high alpine valley. We successfully reach the summit, enjoying expansive views across the Collegiate Peaks and feeling a great sense of accomplishment. But I fail to drink enough water and develop a serious headache that prompts us to break camp a night early and hike down from the valley to a lower altitude.
 
Back at the trailhead parking lot we cook up a dinner of miso soup with noodles, tofu, and mushrooms on the camp stove and sit side by side in the back of my truck. We have one set of utensils so we pass the pot back and forth and take turns eating under the starry sky. Tired legs, laughter, and full, warm bellies. It is the best miso soup I’ve ever tasted. This is by far the greatest moment of pleasure I experience on the trip.
 

The summit of Mt. Belford was just a footnote to the miso soup experience.

3. It often hangs out with suffering.

 
The year I spend living in Chilean Patagonia as an English teacher is the year I have more intimate contact with suffering than ever before in my life. Certainly there are places in the world that are more poverty stricken than the south of Chile. But having grown up in Cape Cod, Massachusetts and attended college at the University of California Santa Barbara, my first-hand experience with suffering is pretty limited. For the first time I see hunger, cold, loneliness, sickness, and alcoholism right in front of me, integrated into my daily life with people who I know and care about. There is nothing to do but stare it in the face.
 
Surprisingly, during this year I experience more unbridled joy, wild love, and sheer gratitude for life than ever before. I can’t pretend to understand the mechanism at work here, but it seems to me intense suffering and intense pleasure are often closely related. Both can make our hearts grow huge, to the point of explosion, to the point of forgetting ourselves and our worries for just one moment and becoming a part of something bigger.
 

Pleasure mixes with suffering in Chilean Patagonia.

4. It wants you to get out of its way.

 
Often, when the circumstances add up and we do find ourselves in a moment of transcendent pleasure, it is tempting to grab on. We think,
 
“This is good. Something is working here. How can I do more of this, deepen this, make it last?”
 
It is best not to do that. Usually, the moment those thoughts enter into our heads is the moment the pleasure experience ends. The Zen master Dogen Zenji said it best,
 

Let go of it, and you are filled by it.

5. It will end. And then what?

 
I remember sitting on a rooftop terrace in the middle of Santiago, Chile after my life-altering year in Patagonia. I write a letter to myself, urging myself not to ever forget the person I have become.
 
I am afraid of forgetting.
 
I write that I “want this epic adventure at the bottom of the world to stick to my ribs and stay there forever.” I’m afraid of “getting swallowed up into the city streets, feeding emptiness with cappuccinos and dreaming of lost horizons.”
 
Of course, this special time in my life has to end.
 
And yet, are these moments truly gone? The salty tears at Pacific Beach, the miso soup, the wild love I find in Patagonia…
 
Looking back over this list I see the moments that have in some way or another shaped my life. I see the human condition; aren’t we all looking for pleasure in some form? And yet the juicy part is always what slips between the cracks.
 
This stuff between the cracks is impossible to define. Is it pleasure? Suffering? Life lessons? Life itself?
 
I believe it is this very impossibility that defines us.
 

The universe is pretty generous when we get out of its way…

It won’t be a good week to issue unreasonable,
illogical, and self-centered demands. And please don’t make peanut butter
and jelly a part of your sex life, take a vacation in Siberia, or photocopy
your butt and deliver it anonymously to your boss. On the other hand, it
will be an excellent time to scrawl motivational poetry on your bedroom
wall, stage a slow-motion pillow fight, and cultivate your ability to be a
deep-feeling free-thinker. Other recommended actions: Give yourself a
new nickname like Highball or Root Doctor or Climax Master; write an
essay on “The Five Things That the Pursuit of Pleasure Has Taught Me;”
and laugh uproariously as you completely bypass the void of sadness and
the abyss of fear.

The post The Five Things That the Pursuit of Pleasure has Taught Me appeared first on sarah athanas.

Biking in Buenos Aires can breed certain type of rage… (image from graffitimundo.com)

Enter me, a red beach cruiser, and a distant memory of “cruising” the wide streets of Isla Vista in flip-flops on my way to class at UC Santa Barbara. And that’s how I’ve been getting around these days. Armed with no helmet, no lights (mom, don’t read this), some awkwardly wide handle bars and a big basket, I cruise the streets of this crazy city as if I were on my way to grub on a Cantina breakfast burrito in a lazy California college town.

Except that this ain’t no lazy college town. Bike paths are potentially blocked by anything from potholes, to large dumpsters, to pedestrians, causing one to swerve, break, and dodge in a sort of uber-dangerous bicycle slalom. So my “cruising” has become more like “maneuvering,” and my attitude has become slightly more aggressive.
 

Actually, I have full-blown bike rage.
 

I’ve developed this rage quite naturally, without even realizing what has become of me.
 

So here I am, whipping my way through a crowded plaza full of arts and crafts vendors, sidewalk cafes, and wandering pedestrians. (Human obstacle course, you’re no match for me!) And here comes a man and his son, about to walk right in font of me on the bike trail. (Ignorant bastards!)
 

Biking in the opposite direction is a ragged looking teenaged guy with dark skin, a signature Buenos Aires rocker mullet, baggy pants, and a skateboard under one arm.

 
Without any trace of resistance, this guy breaks, comes to a full stop, smiles at the man and his son, and motions graciously with his free hand for them to cross the bike path.
 

Damn, I’ve been told.

The bicycle bodhisattva rides away, and I pedal home much more slowly.

The post Biking in Buenos Aires: Potholes, Pedestrians, and Bodhisattvas appeared first on sarah athanas.

It’s always a good idea to get into the water.

WHY?!! Why do I make my life so difficult and complicated when I could be enjoying a New Year’s brunch of tofu scramble and bottomless coffee with people who speak English and read the New York Times?

But really, would tofu-scramble brunch be material for my next blog post? I think not.
 

Brunch is pretty awesome though.

To-Do List for 2013

 
1. Take only what I need.
2. Mend and fix things before replacing them.
3. Be more open and vulnerable, especially with family and close loved ones.
4. Take more risks in love and matters of the heart.
5. Spend at least two months in a place where I can surf every day.
5. Spend as little time as possible earning money.
6. Spend as much time as possible making art.
7. Let go of my self-doubts and believe in myself.
8. Believe in others.
 
Happy New Year folks! I hope your adventures will lead you to the water’s edge this year, wherever that may be for you.
 

The post Get into the Water: A New Year’s To-Do List appeared first on sarah athanas.

Does Patagonia hit the mark with this Black Friday campaign?

Here in Buenos Aires, it is early summer and as I write this post I’m enjoying a cafe con leche on a shady terrace. There may be a few “holiday” type items in the supermarket, but for the most part the massive advertising and consumption frenzy that leads up to Christmas Day is pleasantly… well, absent.

 
How utterly relaxing.

 
There are certain things I miss about the holiday spirit when I spend Christmas in the Southern Hemisphere, such as spending time with my family, reconnecting with tradition, and taking a moment to reflect on what truly matters to me.

 
There are other things I don’t miss, such as fighting for a parking space at the mall, watching in horror at the Black Friday crowds on the news, listening to garish Christmas carols blaring out of crackly department store speakers, and stumbling into big, wasteful displays of plastic trees and synthetic ribbons at every corner.

 
So let’s focus on the things I love about the holidays. The good juicy stuff. Not the fake plastic-y stuff.  Because chances are you love the same things I do. And your customers probably do too.

 
See where I’m going with this?

 
If you are rolling out a holiday marketing campaign, skip the plastic and make it meaningful. Here’s a handy list of holiday marketing “do’s” fresh from summer in South America to help you get on the right track:

5 Do’s for Holiday Marketing

1. Be Generous

Take a clue from Ebenezer Scrooge and don’t be stingy this holiday season. Now is the perfect time to show people how much you care by giving them something of value. This could be a simple as a holiday greeting or a cute video that spreads holiday cheer. Maybe you have some valuable content, such as a how-to guide or e-book that you can give away for free. Some companies even go so far as to indulge in random acts of kindness, sending chocolates or other unexpected gifts to their most valued customers. Decide what you are uniquely positioned to offer, give it away, and notice how good you feel afterwards.

2. Offer to Help

The holidays can be a stressful time for many of us. Is there a way that you can help out? Maybe you have some useful tips or gift ideas you can share. Here’s a great example from recipe blogger Elana Amsterdam. Perhaps you can help your customers save on holiday spending with a big discount. Maybe you offer a special service that caters to holiday season demands. (An example: Joe’s independent grocer offers free delivery on orders of $100 or more the week before Christmas.) If you can help ease some of the holiday stress, you’ll win fans for life.

3. Create Meaning

What annoys me more than ever are holiday ads that are devoid of meaning. In my mind, they suck the magic right out of the season rather than adding to it. So rather than bludgeon people with offers and calls to action, think of a way you can add value to the holiday conversation. Perhaps there is something special you do in your company culture that you want to share, or perhaps you have a unique insight or message you want to bring to the table. The holidays are a time to be reflective about how we interact and affect one another. They should bring out the best in the human condition. Honor this, and people will thank you.

4. Thank your Customers

Speaking of thanks, don’t forget to thank your customers. If they are on your website, getting your email, or interacting with you on social media, they are supporters of your tribe. They are making your dream possible. Thank them for that, and not just during the holiday season.

5. Elicit a Smile

The physical act of smiling makes us feel good. Fortunately, a recent Harvard Medical study shows that with increased consumption of eggnog and chocolate people are more likely to smile. Just kidding. (Pssst. Did you smile just then?) But seriously, people do tend to be all touchy-feely during the holiday season, meaning that you have better odds to get a smile or two. And if you can make ‘em smile, they usually start to like you and (gasp!) trust you. Imagine that!

6. Know When to Shut the @#$% Up

As with all marketing, there comes a time during the holidays when enough is enough! So please, one holiday-themed email is probably sufficient. A flourish or two on your website will do. Don’t overdo it and add to the growing clutter of the commercial frenzy. Give us some space to breathe, reflect, and remember what the heck we are celebrating for. I’ll probably be in my hammock, kicking up my feet, and taking an afternoon siesta. ;)

The post Idea(l)s for the Season: 5 Do’s for Holiday Marketing appeared first on sarah athanas.

“Have you ever seen a more splendiferous crash, Boss?

Yes, it happened to me.
 

There I am, all cool and DIY, googling how to restore a WordPress database using the command prompt. If that doesn’t mean anything to you, don’t worry. It didn’t mean much to me either, but then again, that’s nothing a little google research can’t fix, right?

Oh, so wrong.

In fact, a couple of days go by until I visit my website, and when I do, my homepage has been replaced by the most terrible five words known to bloggers everywhere:

Error establishing a database connection

It takes an hour or so of frantic google scrambling until I realize what I have done. I have deleted my WordPress database. Yes, I have deleted my entire blog.

Fortunately I’m armed with a number of stress-relief tools, so I shrug my shoulders, watch Zorba the Greek dancing with wild abandon on YouTube, head off to yoga class, and grab a beer with some friends. Time to give my website a makeover, I chuckle to myself. Ha, ha…. HA.

So without further ado, and in hopes that you will never suffer from a similar catastrophe, I offer you some post-disaster words of wisdom:
 

Life Lessons Learned from Deleting my WordPress Database

The Tibetan Buddhist sand mandala is a practice in letting go. (image by Wonderlane)

Ask for help

You might say that there is a fine line between a “do it yourself” attitude and stubborn “I’m a total bad ass and I don’t need anyone to help me!” pride. While the former can be an excellent quality for self-starters, the latter can be fatal. And while independence is great, inter-dependence is even more powerful.

So I encourage you to take stock during your next project. What are your strengths and weaknesses? Does the project involve anything outside of your comfort area? If so, who can you bring onto your team that is trustworthy and talented? A high-performance individual can accomplish a lot, but a high-performance team can accomplish the impossible. Here’s a quote from Adam Werbach, founder of the Sierra Student Coalition:
 

One person working alone is a martyr. A group of committed people working together is a movement. Start a movement.

Take clue from me and don’t be the martyr who deleted her database. ;)

Look for the teaching

Yes, you can find a gem of wisdom in the most heinous of situations. Learn to see everything as a teaching and suddenly life becomes a fun and experimental sand box rather than a grim sequence of fuck-ups and successes. When I first learned to edit video, I plugged an external hard drive into the wrong power cord and blew it up. Literally. There were sparks and smoke. An entire semester of work was lost just a couple of days before I had to turn in my final project. I could have quit video editing right then and there, deciding that I just wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing, but instead I learned to back up everything religiously.
 

I often think fondly of that hard drive disaster as my initiation into the video editing world. Similarly, I think this WordPress database disaster is my initiation into the world of hosting and administering my own website. And yes, I’ve learned that backing up in the world of web is just as important as backing up in the world of video. If you learn nothing else form this post… back EVERYTHING up.
 

Let go

So you blow up a hard drive, lose your blog, get your Macbook stolen, crash your car…. it happened. You can’t go back in time. Take a clue from the Tibetan Buddhist practice of creating and destroying sand mandalas. They spend days absorbed in the painstaking intricacies of these sand paintings only to destroy them when they are done. A beautiful lesson in the practice of non-attachment.
 

Let. It. Go.

Move forward

And once you have successfully let go, take a step forward. Take what you have learned and keep creating. You learned these lessons for a reason, now it is time to continue the journey. I’ll leave you with a well-known Zen story:

The hermit of Lotus Flower Peak held up his staff and showed it to his disciples, saying, “When the ancients got here, why didn’t they remain?” There was no answer from the assembly, so he answered for them, “Because it is of no use in daily life.” And again he asked, “What will you do with it?” And again he answered in their place, “Carrying my staff across the back of my neck; going to the thousand, the ten thousand peaks.”

So grab your staff, learn from your mistakes, and find your ten thousand peaks… wherever they may be.

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