Stuff is cheap, in the long run. At the end of our days, we’re not likely to remember the things we acquired as much as the moments we experienced.

This holiday season, reconsider the packaged goods you’re intending to buy for the people you love. Instead, design an experience for them they’ll never forget.

Here’s my take on a holiday gift guide for that special someone on your list:

1. Push the couches together and make a love nest that you both climb into. Put food on a tray between you, find a romantic movie on Netflix, and fall asleep in each other’s arms.
2. Cook a meal together using only ingredients you bought that day from the farmers’ market. Make something you’ve never made before. Do the work together, then enjoy the fruits of your labor together. Leave the dishes for tomorrow.
3. Take a drive in the rain. Bring sandwiches. Park in an empty parking lot and turn off the windshield wipers. Turn the radio off and then your cell phones. Share your lunch and your secrets.
4. Build furniture. Lay out the materials, gather the appropriate tools, and take turns reading the instructions. Divide and conquer. Question each other’s accuracy. Laugh when you get it wrong. Enjoy starting over because it means you’ll have more time working on something together.
5. Play startup entrepreneur and design an app together. Bring paper, pencils and sticky notes. Start with a problem you both always face, then sketch your way out of it. Encourage each other’s crazy ideas and explore new territory. Bonus points if you build a prototype. Figure out a business model and mock-pitch it to your friends.
6. Be their career coach for the day. Act professionally, greeting each other with a handshake. Find out what they really want to be doing and what they feel is missing. Listen closely. Ask the tough questions and offer thoughtful solutions. Brainstorm new directions and ways to get there. Write down next steps. Plan to meet again.
7. Go to a dimly lit local jazz club with people you’ve never heard of playing soothing melodies. Wear blazers. Drink whiskey. Put on your introspective faces and sway with the music. Snap your fingers at the end of each song. Make fun of the people sitting next to you who are clearly on an uncomfortable date in the quietest voice you can muster. Buy the musicians a drink when their set ends.
8. Find an underground supper club. Be the last to arrive so everyone is already mingling. Make conversation with the host. Sit across from strangers. Talk about things you’d never talk about with people you know. Pay attention to the description of each dish and savor every bite, trying to taste each ingredient. Compliment the chef. Ask a ton of questions. Stick around until they kick you out.
9. Go someplace you can really see the stars. Stare up at the sky together and marvel at all its wonder. Guess the constellations. Make up names for ones you don’t know. Talk about life on other planets. Wander through the galaxy in your minds and promise to experience space travel in your lifetime.
10. Get up from the dinner table and dance in the living room. Pause the passing of time and hold each other close. Half listen to the lyrics and half feel the music and wholly move in unison. Smile wide. Imagine what the other is thinking. Don’t talk. Lean back and let the other hold you up. Pretend the song will never end.

Eliminate the baggage and make your future. Save your money and save each other. From me to you, happy holidays.

• Darlin’ Do Not Fear
• I Scare Myself
• An Event Apart Minneapolis 2010
• I’ll be speaking at IA Summit 2009 in Memphis
• Nationwide Insurance demonstrates user research with NationPam

Two weeks ago, I bit the bullet and moved to Brooklyn. To my Manhattanite parents, this is a betrayal of epic proportions. To my childhood friends, I’ve lost my mind. But to the web community, what the hell took me so long?

I’ll tell you. It’s quite simple really. I’m not cool.

The same week I moved, I attended the much-acclaimed Brooklyn Beta. It was filled with borough-dwellers wearing plaid shirts and black-rimmed glasses. Even the women. They have nerdy tattoos and bed head. They take sketchnotes with fat markers and draw their own avatars. They live to build stuff. They want to change the world. I want to change the world too, but I’m not cool.

I have perfect vision and I’ve never dyed my hair. My body is a blank canvas dressed by Ann Taylor and her friends. I’m not skinny. I hate electronica. I can’t draw. I like money. I’m not cool.

I’m not popular cool and I’m not nerd cool. I’m not stylish or trendy, ironic or vintage. I’m not into politics or literature. I don’t follow sports or indie films. I haven’t seen the Star Wars trilogy. I couldn’t understand a Woot shirt if I tried. I don’t know what fonts were recently released by Typekit. I haven’t upgraded to iOS5.

I’m not friends with all the right people. I often feel like I don’t fit in. Sometimes it gets to me that I’m not on the inside. It can seem like everyone else is in on something I never caught onto. It can make me feel behind.

But then I realize…

I think we all feel judged. I think we all struggle to remain current. I think we all carry the burdens of high school too far into our adulthood. And the echo chamber is bullshit. No one has all the answers. No one knows the right way. We’re all in service to something much greater than ourselves and that’s what we each really need to focus on — not whether we’re accepted, or impressing anyone, or fulfilling another person’s expectations of who we are, who we’re supposed to be, and what we’re doing here.

I know exactly what I’m doing here. I’m doing me. You do you. Then let’s do ourselves together.

Get your head out of the gutter.

• December Flickr Updates
• Finding Myself in You
• Inspiration and Aspiration
• Web 2.0 Expo NY: Jason Fried’s “10 Things We’ve Learned at 37signals”
• Hanging out at IxDA’s Interaction09

I always see these “top Twitterer” lists of people with high follower counts touted by social climbing social media DBs. Those people bore me.

Instead I’m inspired by people with a unique perspective on the world around them, unique voice and style, who make me smile or think differently or challenge me to be a better person. Following them isn’t about some ulterior motive or networking agenda. Their words feed my soul.

I hope they’ll do the same for you.

@Texburgher

Geoff Barnes
Pittsburgh, PA
Humorous quips, familial reflections, artful turns of phrase

@Marshmallowgun

Susana Martins
Chicago, IL
Social criticism, witty banter with celebrities, unapologetic snark

@Alex_Godin

Alex Godin
Westchester, NY
High school ennui, teenage observations, young ambition

@Gregpalmer

Greg Palmer
Washington, DC
Activism, current events commentary, gay rights

@Swissmiss

Tina Roth Eisenberg
Brooklyn, NY
Visual inspiration, beauty in everything, geek motherhood

@Sashakane

Sasha Kane
Unknown
Fighting breast cancer, motivational insights, gratitude

@Stevefarber

Steve Farber
San Diego, CA
Leadership, personal empowerment, universal lessons

@Dalailama

His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Dharamsala, India
Proverbs, moral principles, spiritual growth

@Corybooker

Mayor Cory Booker
Newark, NJ
Civic duty, continuous improvement, local pride

• December Flickr Updates
• I’m Not Cool
• Finding Myself in You
• Happy New Year to You
• GEL 2008: Day 2, Session 2 “Twist”

Thank you to Mr. Dan Kramarsky who in the eighth grade suggested that I elect to take the Computer Science class in ninth grade.

Thank you to Mr. Charles Rice who let me take his one Computer Science class for all four years of high school, and encouraged me to consider applying to Carnegie Mellon University.

Thank you to Assistant Dean Mark Stehlik who, when I told him I wanted to leave CMU’s School of Computer Science, nodded in understanding, and told me that the door would remain open to me if I ever changed my mind.

Thank you to Susan Swan, a PhD student and my freshman year English teacher, who awarded me a Kermit the Frog stuffed animal for having written the best paper in the class, and ignited my passion for writing.

Thank you to Jim Davidson, my journalism professor, who believed I had what it takes, who taught me how to conduct an interview, how to structure a story, how to develop my own personal style, how to do away with all the rules, but always make sure to spell the source’s name correctly.

Thank you to Scott Kaufman who thought to tell me about his double-major in Human-Computer Interaction, twice until I understood it, and shared the magic of the “field studies” he had been assigned to do.

Thank you to Professor Richard Scheines who took me under his wing, accepted me into the HCI program, gave me job designing educational software at an hourly rate I probably didn’t deserve, and let me linger in his office longer than I needed to, because I needed to.

Thank you to Professor Bonnie John who drilled into me the mantra, “The user is not like me,” which I continue to carry with me like a torch, a guiding light, to remind me who I am, why I’m here, and what I’m destined to do.

Thank you to Professor Randy Pausch who changed the way I see the world, who taught me how to prototype and iterate on my really bad ideas, who regularly took me to task in a lecture hall of 150 students, who let me argue back, and who I now realize was always right.

Thank you to Dave Camillus, my senior year roommate, who thought to forward me a job post for an interaction designer position back in NYC, when I had no idea what an interaction designer even was.

Thank you to Tom Blum, Stew Katz and Consuelo Ruybal, three VP creative directors who interviewed me at Digitas while I had a fever of 102, and opted to give me a position above entry level for reasons I still don’t understand.

Thank you to Oonie Chase, yet another VP creative director at Digitas, who gave me the freedom to explore my ideas, got huffy when I wouldn’t push the boundaries far enough, and supported me in bringing user research and testing practices into what was a very creative-driven organization.

Thank you to Brendan Gallagher who locked himself in a room with me for six weeks while we took an idea from nothing to something never seen before, and for showing me the align button in Visio (which saved me quite a bit of time).

Thank you to Judy Laughren, the SVP of account management, who trusted me to present our card finder prototype to the CEO of American Express, on the couch in his executive office, when I was 23 years old.

Thank you to Ken Chenault who cared about what he saw, and recognized how it improved people’s lives, and initiated a patent filing on which I am named as a co-inventor.

Thank you to Brian Ragan, my next boss, who protected me from an unstable leadership, gave me free reign to run my own projects, and didn’t hold it against me when I abandoned ship after only 6 months.

Thank you to Josh Seiden, my user experience manager at Liquidnet, who opened my mind to rigorous process, helped me to focus on enhancing my strengths instead of eliminating my weaknesses, and became the catalyst for me following my true path.

Thank you to Sarah Rice and Kaleem Khan, two independent consultants who showed me the way forward through the fog of uncertainty and unknown.

Thank you to David Armano, a former co-worker who was the first person I followed on Twitter, who sent this tweet and started it all.

Thank you to Jared Spool who (by being the second person to follow me on Twitter) is the reason I started this blog, who enlightened me when I read his essays in college and continues to enlighten me every day, who I am honored to call my mentor and friend.

Thank you to Christian Crumlish and Chris Baum who, on a walk around Savannah, helped me bridge the gap between old guard and new guard, and who insisted that I overcome my nerves to share my voice.

Thank you to Liz Danzico who has been my role model, my inspiration, and my connection to an incredible community of the most talented practitioners I’ve ever known.

Thank you to Jeffrey Zeldman who gave me a gig at Happy Cog when he hardly knew me (with a referral from Liz), who asked me to speak at An Event Apart having never seen me present (other than to our clients), and who has astounded me with his generosity time and time again.

Thank you to Tony Bacigalupo who gave me a home away from home, a place to work where work is love, a community of brilliant and motivated people who enable me to be more brilliant and motivated, and friendship that I never imagined was possible, that I was at first too afraid to try.

Thank you to Charlie O’Donnell who introduced me to Fred Wilson who introduced me to Avner Ronen, founder and CEO of Boxee, who sparked my passion for startups and gave me the opportunity to collaborate with one of the best teams in the industry on one of the most beloved products.

Thank you to Lis Hubert, Ray DeLaPena, and Donna Lichaw who asked me to join them in forming UX Shop Talk (which quickly became UX Therapy), who every week have the courage to share themselves with the rest of us, who encourage me to bitch about whatever is on my mind, and who are always there to remind me how fortunate I really am, to have them, and to have this life.

Thank you to Jennifer Bohmbach and Livia Labate who took a big risk when they invited me to give the closing plenary at IA Summit 2010, despite several people’s protests that I was too young, too inexperienced, and too insignificant to be worth listening to.

Thank you to Kevin Hoffman and Brett Harned who guided me through the most difficult and rewarding project of my career, three emotional months of user research for the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, who taught me grace and humor in the most challenging moments.

Thank you to Tom Daly, Mike Perry, Tricia Comstock, Sandra Lloyd, and Van Shea Sedita who helped me swing the pendulum far in the other direction during a summer of fun with House Party.

Thank you to Ana Hevesi, Jason Kende, Ben Fisher, Jonathan Wegener, Michael Tseng, and Theo Skye who give me Sundays to look forward to, who force me to lighten up, and who each and every day remind me what independence truly means.

Thank you to Campbell McKellar who sat down on the couch next to me at New Work City and changed the course of my life with just one conversation, and who together with Anna Thomas, Cody Robbins, and our entire Loosecubes team are helping me to realize new dreams and old.

Thank you to Aaron Schildkrout and Brian Schechter who see me.

Thank you to Sasha Rudenstine, Michael Shulman and Sharin Apostolou who allow me to be (often) out of sight but never out of mind.

Thank you to my parents, my friends, my colleagues, my readers, the reasons I get up in the morning and who flood my head when I go to sleep at night, whose love and goodness and charity are boundless, who sometimes drive me crazy but always get me a drink, who have the highest expectations for me and appreciate when I fuck up and let them see it, who make me feel like I’m nothing next to them but I’m everything to them, and who I’m eternally grateful to walk beside on this extraordinary, unexplainable journey.

A million thanks. Thanks is never enough.

• From the Archive: Changing Majors
• The outpouring of love for Randy Pausch
• My high school computer science homework
• I Am Not A Woman Blogger
• Fulfilling My Dreams, and Saying No Along the Way

There’s something I have to metaphorically get off my chest. You literally don’t have a clue what “literally” actually means.

Literal is defined as: actual; absolute. Literally is defined as: in the explicit meaning of the word; without embellishment or exaggeration; not as an idiom or metaphor.

I’m not the first person to plead this case, and I doubt I’ll be the last. Complaints of the misuse of the word are rampant. But despite the growing reeducation and the obvious satire, the abuse seems to be spreading more aggressively than ever.

And I think I’ve figured out why.

We are in an era of virtualization — our work, our leisure, our relationships and education all being served and maintained via intangible technologies — and at this stage in our transformation, people have started to crave the physical.

When our lives are largely lived out in the ether, we struggle to give emphasis to our intentions, our desires, and our goals. We struggle to give emphasis to just about anything, due entirely to the constraints of our communication vehicles: email, text message, IM, Twitter, phone, Skype. Their affordances for emphasis are severely limited. WE WANT YOU TO KNOW HOW WE REALLY FEEL. Did that do the job?

I’m in pain. I’m happy. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m in trouble. I’m in love. And I’m much, much more than pixels on a screen.

To say you’re “literally dying” about the news you just heard, or are “literally falling off my chair” from the video you just watched, or are “literally over the moon” in love with the man you just met is just your way of expressing that you really, really mean it. But you aren’t actually dying, or falling, or flying in outer space. You just feel like you are. And you’re desperate for everyone else to understand.

We are more disconnected than ever before. The more we learn about each other second-hand (in status messages and blog posts and tagged photos), the less we feel the need to ask and the harder it is to tell. The less we literally connect eyes and hands, the less we figuratively connect our minds.

I try not to be a language Nazi (see what I did there?), but this is one case in which I think it’s crucial that we start paying attention. When we fall back on the incorrect usage of a word, we’re implying that we haven’t found a better way to express ourselves.

I don’t think it’s poor word choice. I think our virtualization is eroding our ability to intonate. Perhaps our ever-growing modes of communication are so devoid of pitch and tonality that we’re losing our grasp of them in meatspace.

What can I, as a user experience designer, do to reverse this trend? What can we all, as contributors to and creators of technology, do to imbue our input devices with the subtleties of tone and allow for the necessary expression of emphasis? Or is the pollution of language an omnipresent and unavoidable reality of evolution?

I can’t wait to hear your thoughts, so please share in the comments. I’m literally on the edge of my seat.

[Update: Thanks to @devintrix for this appropriate cartoon]

• The Experience of Giving
• Photo of the day: Visualizing Genres
• Microsoft Download Center
• Inspiration and Aspiration
• You are in context to another

When I was asked to speak at An Event Apart Minneapolis, I thought, “An Event Apart, yes! Minneapolis, whatever.” I wasn’t expecting much from my trip to the Twin Cities — but I was dead wrong.

Flying over Minnesota for the first time a week ago today, all I could see was a flat expanse of green, like a giant lily pad. So lush. Downtown was bigger than I had expected, and the neighborhood around the Hilton Hotel was dotted with great restaurants and bars, interesting architecture, and cool public art. And the weather…ahh the weather was absolutely perfect — big, open, sunny skies of blue, with a lot less humidity than NYC, and a cool breeze at night.

I got to spend a few hours on Saturday with my friend Samantha LeVan who I met in grad school at CMU, her husband Craig, and their beautiful baby girl Penelope. They live in lovely apartment in Eden Prairie so I got to see a bit of the suburbs. More luscious greenery.

On Sunday I organized a brunch tweetup at Hell’s Kitchen. Had a delicious meal and fun time with @JBertling @germanmartinez @juliefaye @KatieCW @evoljennifer @kevinfarner. Thanks to everyone for showing up to hang with me!

Afterwards I hung out with Paul Isakson, a guy I’ve been following on Twitter since the very beginning, but had never met before. It was a funny coincidence that I finally got to meet the man behind the original @don_draper Twitter account on the same day as the much anticipated series premiere of Mad Men. Paul isn’t twittering from that account anymore, but he inadvertently started quite a movement (and controversy) on bringing TV characters into social media. He’s a long-time ad man himself, formerly of space150 and now out on his own with a variety of business strategy projects. But honestly, Paul is so much more than that, and it was such a pleasure to get to spend some time getting to know him. We walked around the Mills City Museum, learned all about the history of the Washburn A Mill (Gold Metal Flour) explosion, and got a stunning view over the Mississippi River and St Anthony Falls. Some people you just have an instant connection with, and Paul is one of those people for me.

I spent Monday and Tuesday at An Event Apart, which I’ll write about in another post, and flew out Tuesday night. I regret not having the time to take one of the city’s new rental bikes out for a spin around the lakes, or to even get a glimpse of the Mall of America…so I’ll just have to go back! A few folks that I met showed me a bunch of photos of “up north” — the Twin Cities version of upstate or the Hamptons — so maybe at some point I’ll treat myself to a restful vacation and rent a cabin on a lake up there for a week.

If you’ve been reading this blog for even a short amount of time, you probably know that I travel a lot, and I love exploring new places. But it’s been a while since I discovered such charm in a place I didn’t even think I’d remember. I’m thrilled I gave the city a chance to make an impression on me. I’m quite sure the people played a big part in that.

Thanks to everyone I came into contact with, and hope to see you back there soon!

• Where is Whitney in 2011?
• More great press on the boxee NYC meetup
• An Event Apart Minneapolis 2010
• I’ll be speaking at An Event Apart 2009
• The importance of delivery to New Yorkers

I think like a lot of us, I have an incessant need to see myself reflected by others in order to believe that I am who I think I am. Positively and negatively. I save adjectives like souvenirs, reminders of when I got them and from whom. I wear them as badges, as armor. When I start to doubt myself, I take one off and toss it around in my hands a bit to see how it still feels, try it on again to make sure it still fits. They’re my fuel, my food, my vitamins. I collect them like baseball cards, determined to find the full set.

But sometimes in my attempt to win an adjective from someone, I cease to be another one of my adjectives (usually one of the good ones). I have to backpedal in order to earn it back. And it’s then that I realize that I’m juggling adjectives in service to someone else.

#1 on my list of New Year’s Resolutions was this: “Do what I want to do instead of what I think I’m supposed to do.” What I should have written was, “Be whom I want to be instead of whom I think I’m supposed to be.” It’s what I should have meant.

And so tonight, I’m writing my own adjectives. These aren’t the compliments and insults I’ve collected, but rather what I see when I look at myself. Maybe my list will inspire other people to write their own lists, so we can all stop reaching out for adjectives and start reaching in.

I am resilient

I am clever

I am knowledgeable

I am intuitive

I am passionate

I am funny

I am liberal

I am independent

I am empathetic

I am resourceful

I am efficient

I am thoughtful

I am tenacious

I am hopeful

I am loyal

I am assertive

I am outspoken

I am serious

I am responsible

I am adventurous

I am romantic

I am sensitive

I am superstitious

I am sentimental

I am intense

I am vulnerable

I am fearful

I am restricted

I am cautious

I am obsessive

I am old-fashioned

I am lazy

I am self-indulgent

I am wasteful

I am overweight

I am introverted

I am nosy

I am judgmental

I am controlling

I am distrustful

I am lonely

I am unfulfilled

I am fatalistic

I am fortunate

I am ambitious

I am energetic

I am receptive

I am kind

I am spiritual

I am forgiving

I am confusing

I am loved

But I’m also probably many, many more adjectives that I have yet to discover. I just hope to stop relying on other people to grant them to me.

• Where’s Whitney?
• Questions show passion, not doubt
• May you be inscribed in the book of life
• The ups and downs of consulting
• Can Leadership Be Learned?

2010 is here and I can hardly believe it. A new decade. A new period of time to look forward to with high expectations and even higher hopes.

At this time….

…ten years ago, I was starting my last semester of high school and looking forward to the freedom of college.

…five years ago, I was starting my first full-time job after graduating from Carnegie Mellon and looking forward to a steady salary.

…two years ago, I was about to join Twitter and start this blog just a few days later, and looking forward to expanding my network.

…last year, I was just four months into self-employment and looking forward to more choices, more flexibility, and more challenges.

Now I can’t help but think about what the next ten years will bring. I was just a high schooler ten years ago and it isn’t far-fetched to assume that I could be married with children ten years from now (though I have no plans to do either any time soon!). Oddly enough I feel much closer to the past than I do to the future. The future is a big unknown, and I’ve never really been comfortable with unknowns. I’ve never planned more than a few months out at a time. I’ve never had a “5 year plan” and now more than ever I can’t imagine attempting to create one.

A major theme in my life has always been wanting more. I guess you could call me a glutton. I’ve always wanted to make more money, buy more stuff, do more things, see more places, have more friends, face more challenges. Maybe this year I need to focus on what I already have and try to get more out of it all.

• I am at a wonderful place in my career and have a lot of opportunities to grow and learn
• I am part of an tight-knit professional community that inspires me to be better, reach further and think harder
• I have two loving, driven, passionate parents who have ingrained in me an undying work ethic and general zest for life
• I have a close group of dear friends from elementary school, middle school, high school, camp, and college who have been my loyal extended family, and held me up when I found it difficult to stand on my own
• I have an incredible boyfriend who challenges me in new ways every day
• I have the means to give myself a good life, and am truly my own best friend

Every year I write a list of New Year’s Resolutions (things I want to do more of or better), and a list of things Not-To-Do (things I want to do less of or not at all). I prefer not to post that list publicly here, but there is an overall theme across all my resolutions that I want to share:

Be who I want to be, not who I think I’m supposed to be.

My experiences over the last year, and the last decade, have been beyond my wildest dreams. But a lot of my decisions have been based on what I thought the world was expecting of me, and I’ve ended up in situations that have drained my resources and morale. This year and the decade ahead needn’t be about getting more stuff and gaining greater status; I want to focus on being prouder of and more comfortable with what I already have. I look forward to living life by my own rules and moving slowly enough to squeeze every last drop out of the great fortune that I’m surrounded by.

Thank you for being a part of my happiness, and indulging my whims and passions. And a happy new year to you all.

• New Year’s Resolutions for 2011
• Today is my 1 year anniversary of going solo
• Pleasure and Pain turns 2
• Reader E-mail: “Follow your dreams while you can”
• In 2008, You Changed Me

Sometimes the perfect song just finds you.

When I arrived in my own set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

Alongside my innocence I laid in bed awake
Conflicted in these chains with the impetus of age
But like a phantom she crept across the floor and out the window
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

From its place on the mantle my heart was taken down
Scattered in a thousand little pieces on the ground
And out below the street lamp like an orphan with a halo
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

‘Cause it won’t last – the worries will pass

All your troubles they don’t stand a chance
And sometimes it takes more than a lifetime to know
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

The confidence is full as your faith etched in stone
And neither could comfort you from the wild unknown
So bury your burning hatred like a hatchet in the snow
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

If you have a broken heart or a battered soul
Find something to hold on to or to let go
To help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

‘Cause it won’t last – your worries will pass

All your troubles they don’t stand a chance
And it always hurts the worst when it’s the ones we love the most
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

Sometimes your path is marked in the sky
Sometimes you’re forced to fit in between the lines
Sometimes all that you can do is say no
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

I said, when I arrived in my own set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know

I said, darlin’ do not fear what you don’t really know
We said, darlin’ do not fear…

– Darlin’ Do Not Fear, Brett Dennen
[Listen on Lala.com]

• I Scare Myself
• Finding Myself in You
• Today is my 1 year anniversary of going solo
• Pleasure and Pain turns 3
• In 2008, You Changed Me

Yesterday was Yom Kippur, considered the holiest day of the year for Jews. I have never been particularly religious, but fasting on Yom Kippur is something I’ve done since I was a kid. Not because my parents told me to or because it was expected of me, but because the significance of the day is something I’ve always inherently understood.

Christians have confession periodically throughout the year, but in Judaism it’s an annual event. The 10 days between Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) and Yom Kippur are a period of self-reflection and repentance. You’re meant to think back on the year that has passed, acknowledge the ways in which you wronged others, and seek forgiveness for the pain you caused. Yom Kippur is called the Day of Atonement. For a full 24 hours you don’t eat or drink, but just wait to be given a sign that you’ve been absolved by God. A common phrase for Jewish people to say to one another during this time is, “May you be inscribed in the book of life.” The notion is that by the end of Yom Kippur, God will have decided who gets to live another year — a harsher analogy to Santa’s Naughty or Nice List.

Even as a child I was struck by the idea that I might not live long enough to fulfill my true destiny, that I needed to be my best self in order to earn my right to life, that ultimately I was being judged. I’ve taken those 10 days very seriously every year, admitting to myself how I’ve let people down and then reaching out to them to make amends. But this year in my meditation I came to the striking realization that the only one person to apologize to was myself.

It’s been an incredible year filled with new adventures in the professional and personal aspects of my life, but the truth is that I haven’t been very nice to myself. Somewhere along the way my motivations changed from pursuing happiness to fulfilling other people’s expectations. And as a result I’ve over-committed, made lots of excuses and lost a piece of myself.

So this year on Yom Kippur I made a vow to get my best friend back: me. I’m going to make a lot more space in my life, only do what feels 100% right, and slow down this wild roller-coaster I’ve been on. I’m nowhere close to being ready to leave this planet, and I better start showing it — not by living by other people’s rules, but by writing my own. Ultimately we’re all here to make our own contributions. I think I’m finally ready to make mine.

May each of you, no matter what your faith, be inscribed in the book of life. In your own ink.

• New Year’s Resolutions for 2011
• Pleasure and Pain turns 3
• Maimonides’ Eight Levels of Charity Applied to Building Your Personal Brand
• Leaving for Israel
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