In order to see the world differently – to better understand ourselves and other people – perhaps it’s necessary to expand the way we see. Here are some thoughts on seeing from various great minds…
“To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance,” said Oscar Wilde, but how do you acquire self-worth when you kind of sort of hate yourself? And what is self-love anyway? (No. Not that kind of self-love. Let’s keep our pants on for the time being.) I’m referring to the love a person might develop […]
When you find yourself lost at the crossroads of a big life decision, people will often suggest that you simply “Trust your intuition,” or perhaps “Listen to your gut.” To me, this has always been confusing advice… I’m not sure about you, but my gut can only communicate in a language that sounds less like discernible […]
Writing is a notoriously bad life decision if one has goals of either financial security or sanity. Kafka worked in an asbestos factory to pay the bills. Jack London sailed to Alaska to join a gold rush, where he developed scurvy and lost four teeth. Cheryl Strayed was a New York Times bestseller and on a book tour for Wild when…
We are so good at celebrating beginnings, but we tend to pity people during endings. But what if there was a different kind of tradition around quitting? A party with everyone you love there, and speeches. People would dress in violet, for violet is the colour of self-respect and restored optimism, and they would eat cake with a big Q on top, for Quit.
Once upon a time, there was a healthy, professional Western woman in her 30’s who found herself in a major life crisis due to one terrifying fact: She was suddenly single.
It’s uncommon – especially in your thirties – to meet people who are willing to listen to the uncensored truth of your private suffering. Everyone is too busy trying to survive their own lives and families. People are more likely to take in lost dogs than lost people. They’re less trouble.
It was supposed to be every writer’s dream when a Hollywood film producer bought the option to adapt my memoir for the big screen. Love with a Chance of Drowning was due to publish in three months time but the love itself was drowning. Quickly. Painfully. Publicly.
I’ve spent the last ten years experimenting with the boundaries of risk and fear, and this is my advice to women who want to walk alone.
Earlier this year I was travelling alone in Europe when I randomly ran into a woman in Cinque Terre whom I’d met briefly at a travel writers’ conference in New York.