Saying no is often the way to say yes.

I am a self proclaimed relationship girl; it’s so bad that every attempt at a one night stand turns into a minimum three-month relationship.

I’m the crazy-one-acting-like-a-girlfriend, while simultaneously trying not to be in a relationship. After years of wondering why dudes think I like them more than I really do, I finally realized that it’s because my base nature is ‘girlfriend.’

I guess this translates into nurturer (although I think that definition, when directed at me, is pushing it). I started to notice that I was a girlfriend to everyone. My boss: Do you want me to carry that?‘; my gays: Don’t forget you have that thing tomorrow afternoon; my friends: What can I do for you?‘; strangers: That dress looks great on you! You should get it!; ex-boyfriends: Did you call your mom? and potential future ex-boyfriends: Want me to make you some juice?

These efforts to make others happy and comfortable come naturally to me and I don’t even realize ‘the girlfriend’ is happening until it’s too late. Either a boy freaks out cause he thinks I’m trying to marry him (ugh, please) or, more likely, I freak out because something more than I want to commit to is being committed to.

This happens with all parties mentioned above, not just silly boys.

Before I know it, I have booked myself solid for weeks. Weeks. The common and unfortunate answer to ‘When can we hang out?’ is usually ‘Next month’

As you can imagine, this does not go over well; the person asking is hurt that I don’t have time for them and I am furious, and quite honestly, a little depressed, that I don’t have time for myself.

This all came to a head a few months ago, when life was bordering on too-much-to-handle. There was lots of crying, praying and my preferred unhealthy method of dealing with things: full on shutdown mode.

I shut down in all aspects of my life and therefore all aspects of my life shut down on me. Some of my friends took this emotional disconnect very hard (as they should—it’s a shitty way to treat the ones you love—even when it’s done in self preservation).

Needless to say, the fog lifted, I extracted myself from a few situations that were sucking all the happiness out of me and I learned (or more accurately, the lesson finally sunk in) a huge and life changing lesson.

Since then my mantra has been:

Sort of, but not really. Sometimes but not always. 100% 30% of the time. Yes but No.

What I mean by all of that is this:

If I’m not happy, how can I be happiness for anyone else? Impossible.

My great revelation was realizing the importance, necessity and practicality of being consciously selfish.

This concept has changed my life; I now know (and am comfortable with, because I know the negative ramifications of not doing this) that not giving everything of me all of the time to everyone is a good thing.

It is a good thing to say No thanks; to be ok with leaving when you have lost interest.

And in the end, even if I say nope, I say it with love.

With love for the future ex, the best friend, the parent. But most importantly for myself.

Saying no (for me) is saying yes to happiness.

originally published here.

Jaywalking makes me feel like I am alone in the wilderness.

Walking down the middle of any Manhattan street makes me feel like I am in the middle of nowhere. Especially on the avenues. Somehow, even when there are cars stopped at all the other corners and people everywhere but next to me, and I can cross the street at a diagonal in the middle of the road, everything seems right with the world.

It is little moments like this that remind me, abstractly, of the expanses of the vast wilds I used to live in. I get caught up in big city life. The hustle and bustle. The excitement. I forget how my soul craves expanse. Uninterrupted openness. I forget what it was like walking out of my front door and into nature. And not a little bit of nature. Deep, real nature. I realize now, that although I appreciated every moment of it and knew how blessed I was to live in such a fantastic little bubble, I still took it for granted.

Every now and then, I peel myself away from the city and am always instantly shocked by the relaxation that overcomes me once I am out in the country. I enter a deep, subconscious zone out. It starts right in the center of my atoms. Or, maybe more likely, it always lives there and only becomes active and felt when out in the vastness of nature. On rare days in the city, the feeling of undefined space, boundless and free, jolts through my body like a bolt of electricity. And it always happens as I am jaywalking across a street or sometimes, if I am very lucky, walking right down the middle. The buildings get sucked back and the sky opens. I feel like I can breathe, like I am alone. Like I am standing deep in an expansive green valley with fresh, pristine, Colorado wind whipping around me, the sun beating down on my tan face, fully unencumbered. And I smile a great big smile, sigh with loving memory and refreshed, hop back onto the sidewalk.

originally published here.

One week makes all the difference.

A little over a year ago, I spent a week on the Tibetan Plateau. Here is the email I wrote to friends and family after the experience:

Friends,

As you can see by the subject line, I’ve covered some major ground in the past week. It’s been a journey.

Here are some of the hardships and highlights:

No hot water, no potable water, no English, no heat, no tickets, no beds, no women allowed, no foreigners allowed, no money, no internet, no electricity, no computer, sick Tibetans, sick Jen, disgust, confusion, fury, too many sunrises from bus station parking lots, a lot of waiting, three long bus rides, three very long train rides, and never resting my head in the same place twice for 15 nights straight.

On the other hand, there were Buddhas, monasteries, history, Tibetans, Tibet, mountains, snow, wandering, playing charades with monks, lots of smiles, amazing new friends, interesting food, fascinating culture, honesty, reverence, humility, laughter, clean air, blue skies, stars…

Honestly I can’t really wrap my head or heart around what the last week was.

It just was.

But I can say (given it’s Thanksgiving and all of that) I am so thankful for toilets (I’m not making a joke), safe drinking water and high standards of hygiene. I am thankful for my health, ability, and privilege and that I am part of a culture that genuinely appreciates and encourages individuality, knowledge, and diversity. And I’m thankful for the experience(s) of the past week that bring my over-comfortable, over-convenient, wonderful existence into sharp focus and enable me to feel, understand, and accept how extravagantly blessed I am.

~

I often think of this experience and reread this email, trying to recreate the grateful, blessed, humble feeling I was consumed with throughout the week and after my return. I try to recreate in my mind what I went through that week and the small glimpse I was privileged to see of not only monastery life, but the day-to-day struggle of the Tibetans.

When I returned to Shanghai after the trip, and met a friend for lunch, she was struck by my tranquility. She said I was different, peaceful, totally relaxed. I hadn’t felt like I had changed, but the more I reflected on the week, the more I realized how deeply I was touched by what I witnessed. The trip was almost unbearable. Everything, everything about it was uncomfortable. And I can honestly say that it was not really “fun.” It was amazing and important and special—a struggle, but also a gift. A total perspective-shifting, mind-altering, hugely important and necessary gift.

I am still uncovering parts of this week that affected me, the experience still vibrates through my body creating little, new, perspective-shifting waves.

originally posted ref="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/01/perspective-jen-mckelvie/" target="_blank">here.

People never cease to amaze me.

I was walking home the other night with a huge basket of laundry when a hoodlum stepped out of the shadows. I immediately looked down and slightly quickened my step.

He said, “Hey gorgeous, I know I’m not your type, but if I was, you know what I’d do?”

Ugh, here we go, I thought.

To my scoff he replied, “Girl, I would fold your laundry, you know it ain’t true what they say about us,” and all I could do was die with laughter right there in front of him.

I’m not overly judgmental, but like everyone, I make snap judgements about my surroundings. This is human nature and important to our survival. We learn, assimilate information and form opinions; these opinions are judgements. Judging has gotten a bad rap, and it’s understandable because we use it to exclude, hurt and objectify.

But, I have found there is a positive upside to all the opinions we throw at everything, all day, everyday. Other than the whole survival thing, having someone unintentionally prove us wrong right as we are judging, teaches us some major lessons. It blows our perspective out of the water and makes us reevaluate. It makes us take a step back and reconnect to ourselves and what we truly believe. We are given an opportunity to rethink, readjust and either consciously hold onto our judgement or let it change. Neither path is correct, but it is a beautiful and special gift to be given the opportunity to change.

Reconnecting with our base beliefs and core values that may have been altered and molded during our day-to-day life is rewarding. But being able to connect being to being is even more special. The spark that fires between two people when a connection is made, regardless of how small or one-sided it may seem, is the glue that keeps everyone together. These little moments of readjustment, connection, spark, are our lifeblood, whether we realize it or not.

When perspectives positively shift, even just for a moment, a whole new positive energy is added to the flow and it not only affects you, but everyone around you.

So next time you are given the opportunity to grow from your judgement or help ease someone of theirs, rejoice in the freedom of the choice to release, shift and add a little more love and compassion to the air.

originally published here.

It’s the little things.

He looks old. But we are face to face snuggled into each other, every so often he kisses my neck. I can see pools of affection in his deep brown eyes and feel tenderness when his rough hand caresses my face.

On the train home from work, one stranger gives another a commiserating glance after a long day. A smile is exchanged between passengers when they both notice something funny. At a café, everyone patiently waits in line as a new customer deciphers the menu. On the street I drop my wallet and three people stop to pick it up, warn me I dropped it and give it back. A homeless man says, “God bless you” to a stranger who doesn’t give money, but at least gives a smile.

It’s easy not to notice, understand or appreciate the moments of our lives. It’s difficult to breathe, rearrange thought patterns, settle in, settle down, release and enjoy the ebb and flow.

Your life, their life, my life, our collective lives.

Why not savor?

Why not enjoy?

Why not say yes?

Why not dig in?

Why not love, care, feel?

Give me one good reason to not unclench my fist and offer an open hand and heart. What more could anyone ask for than to be able to give love?

The worst that will happen is that I will learn, and in the end, that’s really not so bad.

originally featured here.