All know the way; few actually walk it.  ~Bodhidharma

i am obsessed with nyc. anyone who really knows me already knows this. but i just feel so alive when i’m here. don’t get me wrong – delray beach is a great place when i want some down time and am looking to regroup and recharge. but for me, my creativity and motivation truly comes alive in a completely different way during my trips home.

this time, i was lucky enough to take a writing workshop with my one-time new school professor susan shapiro. i adore sue. i can honestly say that taking her class, almost 8 years ago, totally changed my life. after enrolling in “how to write for nyc newspapers and magazines” i did just that – for a long time. but if it wasn’t for sue and the inspiration (and amazing contacts) i procured from her class, i don’t think my life and career would have taken the same path. i mean, in one night, i met an editor from the new york daily news and less than a month later i had landed an internship there, which led to a freelance writing gig and ultimately, my long career in celebrity journalism.

so recently, i found myself mustering up the courage to enroll in another sue shapiro seminar this past weekend, this time about how to write and sell your first book. the dream of writing a book has been nagging me since i was a kid and has grown louder and louder in recent months. still, it was difficult for me to imagine sitting in a room with a group of aspiring authors and talking about my ideas and how i planned to turn them into a real deal book. sure, i write all of the time (and even penned a few short children’s’ stories when i was younger) but my most recent work has consisted of 500 word blurbs on the state of angelina jolie’s romance. not exactly what i was thinking for my entre into book publishing…

i was nervous about sharing my thoughts with a large group of people who i was certain would have way more experience than i had. but as i sat in sue’s class (in her perfect nyc apartment, complete with bookshelf lined walls, natch) i found myself feeling hopeful: hopeful that i had good ideas that could actually translate into an interesting novel or memoir, hopeful that i might even be able to one day land a literary agent and begin my path to being a published author and hopeful that someone, somewhere might actually be interested in reading my story.

sitting in a room full of other people in my same shoes, i felt fear take grip. i was shaking and on the verge of a panic attack when it was time for me to speak. but somehow, i managed to tell sue and the two guest speakers about my project – and i even got some really positive feedback. i walked out of the 4-hour class feeling invigorated and excited. and at that moment i realized just how instrumental the city itself was in my new attitude.

the fast pace and constant physical interaction with people is what makes me feel alive. i thrive on that go-go-go mentality and while i have tried to slow it down, i now wonder: why? it’s just who i am. and i’m ok with that.

either way, i have started on my new project and am so excited to see what ends up happening. i almost didn’t sign up for the class last weekend, mostly out of fear but i now feel myself scared when i think about how different my life would be at this moment if i hadn’t done it. in that moment, when i spoke out loud and shared my ideas, i learned to get out of my own way…and i have a brand new attitude because of that.

I love getting new certifications and accredations. I’m not really sure why. Maybe it makes me feel smarter, better suited to do the job at hand, legit.

My latest decalaration of competence  – to join my YogaFox, AADP and IIN certificates, all earned in the past 3 months – comes from Yoga Alliance, the mack daddy governing body of yoga teachers worldwide. I had to wait for graduation from YogaFox before I could apply to Yoga Alliance and I was itching for it. For some reason, carrying around a card that says “Casey O’Hanlon – RYT200” meant the world to me. I can’t figure out why. The Lululemon discount is one benefit but that couldn’t be it.

Whatever the motivation and necessity, it feels great.

I’m going through the same thing with my nutrition program right now, too. I will graduate from The Institue for Integrative Nutrition next month and I’m already looking for the next step. IIN is a well-known and reputable program for holistic nutrition but for whatever reason, I feel like I need more to be able to really help peeople. I know this really isn’t true and that I am writing my own story; I have learned so much during my year-long studies at IIN and from all of the other reading I have been doing on my own – every time I hear a speaker like Deepak Chopra, Neal Bernard or Geneen Roth I go out and buy ALL of their books – and from working with my first few clients. But I still find myself researching nutrition degree programs or looking into enrolling to get a Masters in Public Health. My undergrad alma mater, UMASS, offers one of the best programs, and it’s all done online. It couldn’t be a better fit for someone like me who is never in the same state for more than 30 consecutive days. And a rolling stone gathers no moss and all, right?

I’m also looking into getting CPR certified again (the last time I did it was at the Y in White Plains with Kate C. and all I remember from that class was the amazing chicken soup and Potato Skins chips we used to eat afterwards) and am enrolled in a seminar on How To Sell Your First Book with my amazing writing professor Susan Shapiro in NYC next weekend. It’s never ending but I like it that way.

As for the next step with my nutrition and wellness studies, no decision has been made yet and I don’t know if going back to school yet again will even be the right play. Whether I enroll in a likely pricey program or just do reading and research on my own, I will always be a full-time student. There is so much to learn and I will never give up my thrist for knowledge. As my Jewish studies teacher, Sidney, says “When we stop learning is when it’s time to shut the lid.” Never stop.

I’ve been spending the last few months tirelessly forging a new path and going confidently in the direction of my dreams. It was time for vacation.

Michael and I flew into Boston on Thursday night for a ski weekend at Stratton, our most favorite East Coast mountain. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s our most favorite mountain but we are completely obsessed with The Equinox Hotel so there we were…

Landing at 6 pm, we started our drive to Manchester. I’m so embarrassed to admit this (I’m a nutrition advisor, after all) but we stopped off in Concord, NH at PIZZERIA UNO! Wait, before you judge, I have to give them kudos for the amazing winter salad with organic mixed greens, walnuts and some other veggies. The Penne Primavera and Deep Dish pizza we shared? Not so healthy. 90/10 is my mantra – this dining experience was definitely part of that 10.

We got to the hotel around 11 and had a drink at the Falcon Bar, then headed to bed for our big day on the slopes. I am prone to vile, debilitating altitude sickness – I once spent 3 days in bed during Sundance while everyone around me got free shit and partied with celebrities – so I didn’t want to chance it, even though it was just Vermont.

Amazingly, it snowed all night and when we got to Stratton around 10 am, there was about a foot of fresh powder, ungroomed. Score! Sadly, I haven’t skied in a year so I had a tough time with that. Sure, I do yoga or barre or walk on the beach every day but skiing is totally different. Especially with fresh, wet snow sticking to your skis. Thankfully, the sun was shining as inches upon inches dumped on us and we had entire trails, like Mike’s Way, to ourselves.

My thighs started burning around 2:30, so we called it a day.

A spa day, to be specific. Ah, there’s nothing quite like a deep tissue massage after a day on the slopes. My therapist was a yogi from San Fran so instead of relaxing, I spent the whole hour chatting with him about his wife and kids and Downward Dog. I left feeling great, but the pain in my calves persisted. Now I even had a huge bruise on my right shin. Damn boots…

Dinner was at Mistral’s, an adorable family-owned place on a babbling brook with amazing food. It was picture perfect Vermont at it’s best. And even though it was Presidents’ Week, hardly any tables were seated and we got a prime spot by the window, overlooking the water. It was Top Ten Most Romantic dinners ever. And the seared albacore tuna with veggies I ordered wasn’t too shabby either.

Back at Falcon Bar, we started making new friends, bonding Jonie and Dennie from Queens and Ellen from West 21st Street. I love that we always gravitate towards the New Yorkers wherever we go – or maybe it was just that the entire hotel was filled with ’em.

Day two of skiing was fun – just a LOT more crowded and with less powder. We attempted some Blue Square runs but just weren’t feeling it. I grew up skiing; got thrown on a pair when I was 3 or 4 and spent most weekends at our house at Mount Snow, until I got older and too cool and wanted to stay home on Saturday and Sunday so I could go to golf course parties…or have my own “the parents are out of town” bashes. I skiied so often and was pretty good. But it’s way different for me now. I have fear, which didn’t exist when I barrelled down Black Diamonds at Heavenly when I was 11. I worry about broken bones and getting plowed into by an oncoming skier now. And those tree runs I used to go down every single time? Not a chance. It’s just not as fun for me to take risks. So I stick with the Greens, and I’m fine with that – even if my ego isn’t.

Day three, we planned to head back to the mountain for more pow pow, but awoke to another snowstorm, this one accompanied by dark skies and freezing wind. I was not going but didn’t tell Michael right away. Thankfully, he reached the same conclusion so I wasn’t stuck reading magazines in the base lodge for hours. We opted for a yummy brunch at Up For Breakfast and blew out of town instead, 3-day passes and rentals be damned. Our flights weren’t until the next day but we changed those too; when we’re done, we’re done.

Our outgoing meal was just as good as the incoming one – soup and salad at the Logan Airport Wolfgang Puck’s. But we were heading back to the sun and yoga and days at Spot Coffee, doing work and meeting friends. And almost a week later, my legs are finally starting to regain some feeling…it’s a tough life.

I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am – I FINALLY officially completed my yoga teacher training this past weekend. Yes, nine months after I began my journey, I am a real deal yogi!

And while I truly believe that I’ll continue to learn so much more for years and years and years, I can now walk into studios and gyms and country clubs (it’s Florida, folks) and accurately represent myself as a certified yoga teacher. Three days later and I’m still kind of freaking out about it, as you can tell.

That’s because this had always just seemed like such a far away, unattainable goal. As I’ve said before, I used to longingly watch the amazing instructors at Om Yoga in NYC, jealously pining for their lives as I got dressed and headed to my stuffy office and my 9 to 9  job. And when I quit Star Magazine last April to embark on my new path, it still felt like a pipe dream. What skills did I have? I’m good at Downward Dog, sure, but I’ve never TAUGHT it to anyone! How was this going to play out? I was terrified, thinking, “What have I done?”

But now it’s happened…and it just shows that you really, honestly can do ANYTHING you want to do in life. It’s about intention and dedication.

Yes, I have been very lucky – I have a very supportive husband who didn’t even flinch (much) when I told him I was leaving my six figure job to become a full-time yogi. And Delray Beach happens to be an amazingly progressive little community as far as health and wellness goes, so I had such great opportunities to make this happen.

But I’m still in awe.

And as I sat in front of a room filled with about 100 people at The Colony Hotel in Delray Beach on Sunday morning to get my YogaFox certificate from my teachers Keith and Kelly, I was so grateful for everything they and my other teacher trainer students have taught me. There is so much to achieve in life – what are we waiting for?

It’s time to be true to yourself and go for it.

The time is NOW.

Namaste.

So this past Friday night was a little different from my normal Friday nights. Instead of going to Atlantic Avenue for dinner or heading to Cinemark premiere to watch a movie with Michael, we ended up at temple. Shalom!

My evening began with a near-frantic call to my BF (and one of my first Jewish friends from college) Sari. I had no idea what to wear. Being the fashion guru in my life, she told me that nice pants and a top should suffice but that a skirt or a dress might be more appropriate. Considering I rarely wear anything but Lululemon workout clothes, I freaked out. Thankfully, I found a cute floor-length skirt from LF sitting crumpled on my closet floor and paired it with a temple-friendly shirt and sweater. I was saved.

After informing Michael about our night (note: even though he converted FROM Judasim to be Catholic, he was psyched) we headed to Temple Sinai on Atlantic Avenue to start our adventure.

The whole idea for this night of religious service began while I was sitting in my Jewish conversion class on Thursday night. I realized that I was about halfway through the class but had never been to a Friday night service, which my hysterical teacher, Sid, references at least a dozen times during each lesson. Plus, I am trying to finish up and become a Jew-by-choice sooner than later so I thought it would serve me well to show my face on a Friday night.

It did.

As soon as Michael and I walked into the temple, we were swarmed. I’m not sure if it was because I knew a few of the people from our joint conversion/B’nai Mitvah class or if it was because we were at least 30 years younger than everyone else and they could smell our young blood. Seriously, the average age in the room was about 75 and a half a dozen people had walkers. We were clearly the fresh faces in the crowd, both figuratively and literally. Either way, a nice woman named Susan from my class – whose husband was the Temple treasurer, naturally – grabbed Michael and I and told us to come sit with her. In the 3rd row. Eek.

Since we had arrived over 15 minutes early, there was ample time before the Rabbi stepped onto the bima. And in this time, about 10 different people came up to us and introduced themselves. Every single one was from New York. Others just stared, sizing us up. I kind of felt like a caged animal at the zoo, or the new installation at a museum. Everyone was intrigued by our presence. I was thrilled that I had gone with the skirt.

Once the service began, things settled down and we started to blend. Susan was eager to help us follow along and kept turning the pages in Michael’s prayer book and pointing out which reading we were on, while I smiled at the Rabbi, hoping to make eye contact. I wanted to get proper credit for showing up. Plus, he’s really funny.

In fact, Rabbi Kanter was one of the main reasons I chose to go through my conversion program at Temple Sinai as opposed to the many others in Boca or Delray. First of all, he is gay. With a partner and two kids. Not to get all politcal, but one of my major gripes with Catholicism is their exclusion of the gay community. I fancy myself a liberal and went searching for a very relaxed Reform temple when I decided to finally take the plunge to be a Chosen One. I figured a synagogue with a gay Rabbi was probably pretty accepting.

So I sat through the 90-minute Shabbat, mostly lost as Hebrew readings were recited.  But I remembered a few from class  like the Sh’ma and Mishebeirach. Plus, I was excited for my new community. Michael and I stayed for the oneg afterwards (it was sponsored by the Temple Sinai Sisterhood; Jews love to sponsor things at temple – it’s hysterical!) and each had a little shot of Kosher wine. Mazel tov! I spoke to the Rabbi for a few minutes and mingled with my conversion class cronies while munching challah. When we walked out to leave, a few more random people smiled and came over to wish us a good night and thank us for coming. We felt so loved. It had been a totally new experience and it was different and exciting. For real.

But the challah hadn’t really done it for us so we headed off to Houston’s for a seared tuna salad, surrounded by twenty-somethings from Boca, and were back in our world again…

I love keeping in touch with everyone. Seriously. Everyone. Sometimes it’s really hard to maintain all of these friendships but it’s important to me. I still chat with friends from kindergarten just as often as people I’ve met since moving to Florida.

And I am proud to say that I have a certain knack for keeping up these relationships. Even if I haven’t spoken to someone in months, or even years, I can meet up with them for lunch or call them to catch up and pick up right where we left off. In fact, during a recent lunch with my college roommate Beth, we chatted about how easy things always are between us, even if months and months pass with no communication. I rarely end friendships because of a nasty fallout; sometimes people get busy and their lives go in different directions, but that’s fine. Actually, it’s great. How boring would it be to have friends who were all just clones of myself? I embrace diversity.

Plus, I don’t care much for drama. Sure, I love gossip and being in-the-know but real deal drama is not for me. I couldn’t care less if a friend cancels dinner hours before our reservation or forgets to return a phone call for a week. A hot new guy asked you on a date at the exact same time we were supposed to meet up drinks? Hell yeah I want you to ditch me! And it’s genuine – I’m not secretly harboring some animosity. Life happens, and I’m sure I’ve been on the giving end of those cancellations and rescheduling situations many times.

So I was thrilled to go out for lunch with my friend Jackie from grade school on Friday afternoon. Jackie and I were joined at the hip for years while going to Good Counsel Academy in White Plains ages ago, until she moved to Arizona and later, Florida. We spent hours ironing our hair in my bedroom and trekking around the park in Sleepy Hollow, hear where she lived. I have vivid memories of ice skating at Ebersoles on Friday nights, flirting with boys and eating French Fries until my dad picked us up down the block so no one would see. We kept in touch loosely for a few years but then lost touch – until Facebook. As I was getting ready to move from NYC to Delray Beach, I was thrilled to find out that my partner-in-crime from 4th grade was living in West Palm Beach.

But since life is crazy and people get busy – she has two kids, I travel frequently between NYC and Florida and we both work a lot – we only got together once since I moved here. I keep up with her life through status updates but it’s clearly not the same. So this past Friday, we made plans and met at House of Siam for a much-needed catch up. After 90 minutes chatting over pad thai and sizzling beef, we walked to Starbucks and talked non-stop for another hour over chai tea lattes.

It was amazing how easy it was. More than a decade has passed since we first became BFF 4eva & eva (yes, I really did write that in a note I passed her in class, which I recently found in a box of things in my dad’s attic) but it’s like nothing changed.

Seeing Jackie made me realize that it really is easy and important to keep in touch with people who have had meaning in your life. Sure, you may only speak once or twice a year but if they were important enough to be good friends in the first place, they are important enough to make some time for no matter how busy life gets. Friends are like family to me and I’m thankful for each and every person in my life.

Me & Jackie, a million years ago:

I found this little newspaper clipping on the mirror in the bathroom at Christina’s this morning while having some oatmeal. It was kind of random but I was into it…so I took a photo and had to share.

It’s just so true. Our attitude about things in our lives is really what makes all of the difference. If we can learn to take something uncomfortable or shitty and turn it into something good, we will be a heck of a lot happier. I have really been trying to work on this more and more in my own life, especially through my yoga practice. I’m cutting out experiences, things and people that no longer serve me in a positive and complimentary way. There’s just not enough time in life for that.

I’m really, really trying to apply this mantra to my career as well. Things are actually going really well, but I am always looking for ways to make things bigger and better. Try being positive all day today – it feels amazing.

What have I gotten myself into? I am so not a morning person, yet I have volunteered to teach the 6:30 am Vinyasa class at the Buddha Lounge, my yoga studio in Delray Beach, twice a week.

Why would I do this to myself? I am cranky and half-sleeping for hours after I wake up. Until recently, I slept until 11 am on weekends and only got up then because I felt guilty. I had royally screwed up my body’s rhythm from all of my years bartending, when I would work until 5 am and sleep until midday. And the years working for the gossip rags, going out to fabulous parties until 2 and 3 am on weeknights, regularly, didn’t help any either. Seriously. I was a disaster.

But from a yogic perspective, I felt like the universe was presenting me with a new, exciting opportunity that I would be crazy to pass up. Maybe having to peel myself from my comfy bed at 5:25 is just what I need. Maybe I will become a whole new person – a morning person.

Don’t get my wrong – there is nothing better than waking up before dawn. And even more amazing is doing Sun Salutations as the sun rises. There is a whole different energy at this time of day. Everything is so quiet and serene, and everything seems possible. I feel like I have the entire day ahead to get done everything I need to do, and then some. I feel so accomplished after I have taught 2 yoga classes, had breakfast, read the Daily New and the Post and taken the dogs for a long walk…and it’s still only 9:30 am.

Of course, my main issue with arising so early is that I am dead tired by midday. Like, I feel like I will collapse by 2 pm. I usually need a nap, which cuts into all of that precious time I was planning to use to do all of those important things. And then I’m up all night, mindlessly trolling gossip blogs. *sigh*

But I’m learning to embrace it. Last April, I decided I wanted to become a yoga teacher and a nutrition counselor. I took a giant leap of faith and went for it. Well, it’s all worked out and now I’m living the life I always imagined. Even if it’s just a few hours too early…

Hands down, without a doubt, the hardest part about not working for the celebrity glossies anymore is Monday.

Anyone in the biz might think I’m crazy for saying that, right? Mondays usually mean early mornings coupled with late (sometimes very late) nights, stories that change all day long up until the very last minute, unreliable sources that go cold and rabid publicists who are freaking out about what we plan to print about their usually guilty clients.

But the reason I got into the celebrity gossip industry to begin with was because I thrive on chaos and deadlines and the excitement. The part that seemed awful to many was actually quite a rush for me.

It was always like being a part of this little club, one that you only really understood if you lived it. Sure, people work stressful jobs with ridiculous hours all of the time. Investment banker, anyone? On-call doctor? But there was something different about being a tabloid reporter and editor, at least to me. I worked for 2 years as an auditor at Arthur Andersen – and was miserable the entire time. I was never, ever happy about staying late to tick some more Excel spreadsheets with red pencil.

But during my years with In Touch, and later Star, even the worst days were fun in a way. Don’t get me wrong – sometimes it totally sucked, like whenever I had planned to go to dinner with friends at 9 pm or meet up with someone for drinks and had to call to cancel because my pages still hadn’t gone to copy. And when I finally departed from the industry, I was relived at first not to get midnight phone calls from the fact checkers. But now, months and months after moving on, I realize how much I miss it.

I loved being front and center for the drama. It’s often vapid bullshit, but lots and lots of people really like reading these magazines and being a part of creating it was a blast. Doors would slam, new photos would come in and change everything at the 11th hour – Angelina’s very staged trip to the beach in Africa with Brad and Maddox comes to mind – and lawyer letters would show up. It was a little dangerous – and a lot of fun.

Of course, my days living between NYC and Delray Beach are now super relaxing, filled mostly with practicing and teaching yoga while helping people fix their diets and their health. I must admit, it’s a lot more personally and spiritually rewarding than revealing when and where Britney’s secret wedding will take place. But, sometimes, on Mondays I feel a pang of jealousy for now being an outsider to the secret club.

We really never know how good we have it till it’s over, do we? I suppose the grass really is always greener…

I begin this post with an apology. Every time I come into NYC I have these grand plans to see each and every person I have ever known. You can imagine how well that works out…

I’m really not a flake. Not at all. In fact, I am actually excellent at making and keeping plans. I tend to be early for dinners and meetings, and it takes a lot for me to cancel. But I find that whenever I land in the Big Apple, I get overwhelmed. I should have bigger problems than trying to get face time with a huge list of amazing friends and family, right?

Still, I’m totally torn up over it.

We flew into town on Thursday night, and barely had anything lined up for our 11 days in town. Michael was thrilled, since I usually drag him around from bar to restaurant to club to Cozy Soup & Burger during our trips up north. After we landed and dropped our luggage off at our apartment downtown, we decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out. We argued between Blue Ribbon (my choice) and Blue Hill (Michael’s fave). He won. After an outstanding meal of  salad and butternut squash “steak”  for me, roasted veggies and venison for Michael, and a mega-celebrity sighting (Ed Norton, Naomi Campbell, Lance Armstrong and QTip breaking bread together), we strolled through Washington Square Park to meet our friend Jon at Fat Cat. Home by 11 pm, we were so proud at our quiet “adult” evening.

Too bad that didn’t last.

The next day, after doing a kick-ass barre class with Kate Bohner at FlyWheel Sports in Flatiron, I started doing what I always do – texting and calling all of my NYC friends and making tons of plans. Suddenly, I had triple booked us for drinks that night and we had lunch, dinner and drink plans for every single one of our evenings in town. Unfortunately, I was also battling a really nasty upper respiratory infection, so I was already run down and exhausted, before I even had one sip of my Ketel One and soda at our local watering hole, Black & White.

I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy our Saturday night dinner at Bar Pitti and dancing at Tzigan because I did. But by Sunday morning, I was wiped out and even slept til 11 am, college-style. It wasn’t even an option for me to lift my head from the pillow any earlier. Thankfully, we were heading out to Long Island that day for a Jets party with the O’Hanlon clan so I got a break from my own crazy plans. I didn’t touch a single drop of booze and we even had a fabulous snack at Otto when we got back into the City after the game. You know, to celebrate Gang Green’s big win.

The week carried on and, not shockingly, my cold persisted. Begrudgingly, I was forced to make that dreaded call and cancel on a few friends. It was just too much and I needed rest. But I was gutted over it. After a lowkey dinner a deux with Michael at Kanoyama on Monday night (what, was I supposed to stay home and eat in? We have a 400 square foot studio – no way), I found myself tucked into bed at 10 o’clock. But I was filled with guilt over who I should have reconnected with that night instead of wasting time to take care of my poor health. It was all in my own head, obviously. No one gave me grief over not going out but I just felt so bad about it.

You see, I have made some really great friends in South Florida but I can count them on one and a half hands. I don’t have 29 years of history there. Up north, it’s a whole different story. I have friends from high school and college, people I met at Arthur Andersen and Ava Lounge and the gossip mags and even a few folks I’ve met since moving to Palm Beach County who go back and forth like Michael and I…and I always feel the need to see them all within a two-week visit. Unrealistic, clearly.

Every time I fly back to Delray Beach, I completely freak out and break down. After the rush of city life and getting to catch up with so many amazing people whom I have known for years and years, nothing can compare. But I just wish that I didn’t have so little time to see so many friends. And so I send out my deepest apologies to anyone I wasn’t able to see, or even worse, made plans with and canceled on. It’s not personal, really. It’s not you, it’s me. I have been trying to learn how to slow down and not try to do so much at once. I think it’s time I applied that to my social life as well. I might just be better company to my friends – and most definitely to myself.