Intentional Living: Who Are You?

“Intentional Living” is one of the big buzz terms everywhere in the world of self improvement. Who are you? The goal of intentional living is to get you to answer that question and then live accordingly. We are what we do. We are what we say. And we are what we think. So decide who you are, who you want to be, and then act, say, and think accordingly. That is intentional living.

What It Means

Intentional living is what it sounds like. As an atheist, I imagine intentional living as what Christians would call living a Christ-like life. Jesus’ goal, his intention, was to spread love, so when he set out each day he had that intention in mind. When you keep your intention in mind, every action you take should reflect that intention. When the leper approaches you, you react with love. When the prisoners have dirty feet and can’t get them clean, you help them wash their feet. You shield “whores” from abusers, you stop stones from being cast. Intention.

Practical Application

My goal is to empower women, to build community, to spread peace. Intentional living to me then has to reflect my goals. Not only my writing, but also my speaking, my actions in my neighborhood, my comments or posts on social media, even the way I carry myself have to reflect my intention. If I don’t model an empowered woman, how can I expect anyone else to listen to anything I have to say?

Like My Daughters

“Celaya. Don’t talk back to me.” I overhear my husband tell my then four year old from another room in our house.

“I’m not talking back to you.” Celaya responds. “I’m standing up for myself.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I teach my daughter to be bold, to speak up for herself and for others who can’t, and to stand up for herself when she feels she is being wronged. So far, her biggest foe is her father.

My husband is an unabashed feminist. He not only recognizes that he lives in my queendom, he also does whatever he can to make it glorious. He does all this without losing any credibility as a king in his own right.

At the same time, my husband grew up in Mexico, where there are very concrete methods for raising children. Children are to be seen and not heard, children do not speak unless spoken to, and children most certainly do not talk back. Carlos doesn’t enforce any of these Mexican guidelines in our house, but they are in his blood, in his DNA. And the talking back is the hardest one for him to swallow.

Question Authority

“But that is not who we are raising her to be.” I have to explain to him when he gets frustrated that Celaya challenges almost everything we ask of her or tell her to do. “We do not want her to grow up submissive and subservient. We are raising a strong, smart, capable woman. Yes, she needs to be respectful when challenging or questioning, but we need to encourage her to challenge and question.”

That is intentional living.

Writing

“Are you getting paid?” My husband will ask when I tell him I have to stay up late and write. If I’m not writing for my contract, Carlos doesn’t understand why I would stay up late, exhausted, to write.

“No. I’m not writing for pay. I’m writing because I’m a writer. I can’t call myself a writer if I don’t make the time to write. This time, right now, exhausted, is the only time I’ve got. So I’ll be up writing.” I explain.

There was a time when I could put the kids to bed and sit on the couch with Carlos and Teno, my brother, and watch shows or a movie. I could have a glass of wine, and I could put my feet up. Those times are now few and far between. Now they sit and laugh at the TV, and I sit here writing. Because I am a writer. And every single time I sit down to write, every time I hit “publish,” and every time I get feedback from a reader or I get a new subscriber, I feel like a real writer.

That is intentional living.

Running

Same goes with running. I enjoy running, and I am proud to call myself a runner. Sure, days go by when I just can’t get to it. Too tired; kids sick; freezing weather; but in the end, I lace up my shoes, push my headphones into my ears, and click play on my playlist.

Eminem tells me to lose myself in the music, the moment. Jay Z reminds me to brush my shoulders off, Pink tells me I’m fucking perfect, and Rhianna convinces me that I’m so hard.

Every single time my feet hit the pavement, my face flushes with the endorphins, and my chest heaves from the cardio, I know I’m a runner. A real runner.

Intentional Living

Intentional living means doing it, creating the habit, falling out of practice, missing it, and getting back into it. What it does not mean is that you are perfect at it, that you never make mistakes. It is that kind of thinking that will stop you from starting in the first place.

When we talk about our goals, we don’t need to be perfect in order to work toward them. In fact, that is exactly why we work. We are constantly striving for perfection, knowing all along that once we meet one milestone, we will be seeking another. No one climbs Mount Everest and then says, “okay, I’m done. Mission accomplished. No more climbing for me.”

No. You climb one mountain and then you scout out another. You publish an essay and you submit another. You publish a book and you outline a new one. You run five miles in under an hour and you shoot for forty five minutes. When we live intentionally, we strive. We don’t just want to “publish a book.” We are writers. We don’t just want to run five miles. We are runners.

We don’t just want our daughters to grow up and challenge authority. We want them to be strong, smart, capable women, starting now.

The Little Things

“Are we gonna go?” My husband asks me tonight. =We had discussed going to the Oakland Zoo to check out their Christmas light display.

“Ugh. I don’t know. I want to go, but Matilda may lose her shit on the way there, while we’re there, on the way home. Who knows?” I was indecisive. Matilda has a cold, which has thrown off her sleep schedule, and I didn’t feel like dealing with a fussy baby.

“Okay.” Carlos is so easy. But I could see the disappointment in his face. I knew I would see the disappointment in Celaya’s face. I looked over at Matilda and she was making silly sounds, flipping her tongue in and out of her mouth.

“Let’s do it. Let’s go. Right now. Let’s go.” I decided.

We Went

It was unimpressive. The traffic was horrible, my baby screamed in the back seat the whole way there. The line of cars just to get into the zoo was so long, I finally got out of the car, got Matilda out, and walked alongside the car to calm her down.

The line to get in was even longer, and by the time we walked into the park it had been over an hour since we left our house. We live ten minutes from the zoo. And the light display wasn’t even that amazing.

But in the end, I was able to calm Matilda down. Celaya got to be part of the zoo lights experience. We finally checked it out after all these years. There was a playground for the kids to play on across the road from the line, so the wait wasn’t unbearable. And we went, as a family.

One of my major goals in life is to make memories with my family, as a family, all four of us, out and about, experiencing the world. Matilda won’t be a back seat screamer forever, but I don’t want Celaya to lose a year or two of experiences while we wait. Matilda will survive. We all will. And we will look back and laugh at the time Matilda tried to bust our eardrums on the way to the zoo.

I call myself an involved mother, a loving wife, an adventurous person, a doer, not just a talker. And I’ll tell you what, sometimes I just want to talk. I just want to sit, and I just want to say “no. I’m too tired.” And every once in a while I do. I just say that I am too damn tired. But most of the time I get up, I put my bra on, throw on my Uggs or my flip flops, and head out with my family.

Happily. Lovingly. Intentionally.