I Could Be Wrong

    I have never quite gotten the New Years Eve celebration.  When I was younger, I thought the holiday was about glamorous outings with terrific Prince Charmings I would meet before midnight – never quite found out how to get me some of those.  When I was a bit older, we would get dressed up and go out to clubs, and I would watch the glamorous hilarity folks tried to generate.  Friends with dates ranged from mildly amused to bored, and friends without dates seemed either desperate or lonely and sad. And of course, drunk. Everyone looked nice, and the food was good, but again, I never quite got it. What exactly am I supposed to do on this holiday?  What is it about?
    I will share that the jig was close to up for me the year I heard Dick Clark going on about the incredible excitement building in the crowd over the turning of a new decade. 1990. Wahoo!
    Like I said, the jig was pretty much up for me on the whole New Years thing by then.
    In more recent years, my older, more cantankerous self (yes, I used to be chirpy), has viewed this holiday with a Grinch-like demeanor. I like champagne, but why the boozorama?  It strikes me now that  New Years is nothing more than the Winter Solstice celebration with a liquor license.  
    Winter Solstice? Wait a minute. I know that one.  Soul searching, leaving behind outdated dreams, a re-commitment to the light – being part of the light – dreaming of what can be in our lives, believing in our lives.  All powerful, meaningful stuff. Maybe scary stuff?  Sometimes.  Could it be that the enforced hilarity and ball gowns are all about making sure we are anesthetized enough to not feel that scary or sad stuff?  Maybe we don’t dare ask ourselves what we value most, lest we face the fear of not living up to it.
    I think there is great beauty in the turning of our lives.  I think the act of deciding what we value and committing to it, trying that out, succeeding or not, trying again, junking what doesn’t work, and doing it all again is the sacred walk of life.  Sometimes scary yes, but we do it in the company of friends and belovedes, and in the presence of great Grace.
    And it can be a kick.
    I will offer you this activity to try for the New Year. I believe it is meant to be done around midnight, but I am fairly sure I will be in bed by then, so I will be doing it around 10 tonight. (btw, my life as the mother of a small child has taught me that the sky will not fall if you do this or any other self development exercise at a time that your family life supports so don’t feel wedded to the timing of it all.)  The activity was inspired in me by the writings of Jan Lundy.  She calls it naming your journey and surprise, I added to it.  Here it is:

    Sit.
    Breathe.
    Allow your mind to wander back over your year.
    Wait. Listen.
    Allow a word to bubble up from inside you, a word that describes your journey through 2011. Then, when you are ready, NAME your journey.
    Allow yourself to reflect on the word that arose in you and how it defines the passing year.  What memories and experiences come to mind?  Allow yourself to be with this for a few moments, maybe journal a bit, and then release the thoughts.
    Again, sit.
    Breathe.
    Ask yourself, “What do I value most?”
    Breathe easy.
    Wait. Listen.
    Allow a word to bubble up from inside you. When you are ready, NAME it.
    Allow your mind to float with the word.
    Write down images or thoughts that might arise. And write down the word.

    Only 365 days until this one comes around again.  See what happens.
    Blessed be.    

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

    I have always loved Winter Solstice.  Most years, I have found it difficult to slow down and take in the stillness, even as I yearned for it.  This year, my gift (?) has been having quite a bit less energy than in previous years, so slowing down has not been difficult. I won’t lie and say that I like being so tired, but I will say that I am enjoying this season. 
    I am not booking so much outside of our house. We go to bed early.  We look at Christmas lights.  We read stories together. We baked monkey bread for Solstice.  There seems to be time for the small stuff this year.  It turns out there is a great deal that nourishes me in the small stuff.
    I love the notion of the Winter Solstice.  Everything lies dormant within the womb of the Earth.  We swim in the dark waters of the unknown, waiting for Spring to return.  In the quiet, we contemplate what’s been left behind and seek glimpses of what will be.  No question we can encounter our fears in the dark (of the dark).  Winter Solstice for me is the time of the big questions.  Who am I?  What is my life for?  Will I prosper? Will Spring ever return?
    I think the reason this time of year is celebrated as a family time is that we draw strength from our heart connections.  I have been noticing small warm moments with my family this year.  Again, I would use the word nourishing –  heartening.  It has been said that Winter is a time to feel our connections to our ancestors.  There are lessons for us to learn if we allow them.
    Of course, yin leads to yang at some point.  I have also had moments where I pine for a bigger life.  When I feel sad, I wonder if my life will ever again get “bigger.” Yesterday, as I looked up at the gray, gray, I had a visceral longing to leave the small behind and soar through the sky. I have had moments in my life that have felt like that.  Glorious.  For me, nothing surpasses. Will I be able to go there again?
    I find myself asking these questions this Winter -- speaking into the unknown and trying to discern the answers. Yesterday, not long after I looked up, I was able to listen inward in meditation, and this time, I clearly heard the wisdom of my ancestors. 
    Remember who you are.
    And I felt that in my body.  A strengthening, a return, an alignment – like sap rising. In that moment, I felt exactly like my self, and it was good to be home.
    When the sun rose today, the sky was clearing.  I heard a bird chirping in the trees, and I felt held by the gentleness of the morning.  The hot monkey bread tasted great!
    Happy Solstice.

The Gifts We Give Each Other

    I wrote the other day about being inspired to believe in our miraculous power in this life again.  I feel moved to say that I was called to that inspiration by the experience of someone I love.  Not because of anything she said or did on my behalf, but simply because she reported to me a couple of months ago her intention to sell her home and move to a better place by the end of 2011.  There were plenty of obstacles – selling a home in a depressed neighborhood, plenty of repairs to be made, lack of resources, physical limitations, availability of housing where she wanted to live.  She told me that she had absolutely no idea how this would all work out, but that she was acting on faith that it would happen as she felt it was supposed to. 
    I thought she was brave to be so bold in her intentions.
    I spoke to her on Thursday, and it had all happened just as she intended.  She has sold her home and moved out and will move into her new home in a few short weeks. When I heard this news, I felt chills.  I do not believe when she told me of her wish that she was intending to teach me something, although she is a teacher of mine.  Nevertheless, when I heard her story, I felt a thrill of hope such as the song describes.  It called me to a better part of myself and what I know to be true but often forget.  Of course, one might say that selling a house and moving is not exactly a miracle, but I really believe it was something of a long shot in her situation.  More importantly, the miracle of the story is how it landed on me, and the upsurge of hope it created.  She believed it would happen and it did, just like she thought it would.  Hearing that moved me.  That is what we do for each other in this life.
    We really can live our dreams.  What a gift for me that she lives her life according to her inner guidance and saw fit to tell me about it.  I have said before that we change the world simply by living our own lives according to our own best beliefs.  Sitting here right now, I am changed.
     Blessed be.

If Wishing Made It So

    Sometimes I hear things that I want to believe in but struggle with.  I love (and probably fear) the idea that we create our own reality.  To a point, I’m on board with this notion.  I get that when I take a position of gratitude, I notice more blessings in my life.  I have noticed that surrounding myself, in general, with positive people makes my life feel more positive. The same thing feels true about wading through lots of negativity; I feel more negative.  Fine, fine.
    Where the rubber hits the road for me is when folks begin talking about visualizing something concrete that they want in their lives, and then they get it.  That’s when I become that doubting 7 or 8 year old kid:
    Really?? But how could that possibly be true? There’s no such thing as . . .
    I realize even as I write this, that I have had that experience.  In my life, I have experienced seeing my fondest desire manifest.  I could introduce you to her, but she’s busy making puff ball snowmen at her art table right now . . .
    If wishing made it so . . .
    In truth, I did wish. I also hoped. I prayed. I cried. I subjected my body to what I can only describe now as weird science or Vegas style gambling, depending on how you look at it.  I consulted mystics. I wrote in my journal. I threw up my hands in frustration.  In short, I embarked on a path of self discovery and surrender that brought me face to face with a lot of my own assumptions and beliefs about myself and everything else.  I had to throw out what didn’t work.  I had to consider new ideas.  In short, I had to grow into the gift that I was about to be given.  Did it work?
    You betcha! (Only Sarah Palin quote you are likely to see here, ever, but I digress.)
    For me, believing was far from a passive exercise.  I did absolutely everything I could to make my dream a reality, and that still wasn’t enough.  I also had to surrender to the fact that in the end, it wasn’t really in my control.  But the belief was mine. And it worked.
    Why then, do I have to remind myself again and again of the power of intention and correct action to shape my own life? I guess I can be grateful that the reminders are there, and that when they come, they can be powerful.  
    And so here and now, it gives me great pleasure to declare, in what I now better understand to be the spirit of the season,
    I BELIEVE.

Happy Thanksgiving to the Super Committee

    I am not sure how anyone who is paying attention cannot be feeling a constant background hum of tension given the state of the world’s politics.  I started to write the word economy, but as I did, I realized it’s not about the money at the core.  It’s about power, and those who have it.  As one of the 99% who do not have power, I feel anxious and tired whenever I think about the world economy. And completely helpless, did I mention completely helpless?  I may have just given you a Thanksgiving recipe for anxiety – take lots of worry about the economy, add a heavy dose of helplessness and a dash of a tree fell on my office. (Wait, that last one is optional.)  Carry it all around with you for a while and you have . . .
    I don’t think about this all of the time.  I have a long list of other things I do think about.  Thank goodness.  This little topic is simmering on the back burner on very low heat.  I try not to focus on it because there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s the point.  The problem is that 100% denial is impossible.  As many of us know, it takes more and more effort to keep that ugly old thang locked away, off the front burner, not consciously felt, but it’s there . . . always there . . .
    I heard that they didn’t even meet together in the same room.
    No one thought they would succeed.  Many are now saying that they shouldn’t have succeeded. They never meant to succeed. “Their not succeeding is important,” I heard on the radio last night.
    Breathing . . . breathing . . .
    I understand why the occupy Wall Street folks beat drums.  It’s frustrating.  It’s maddening.  Dancing, moving – there is a need to bring some life to this problem.  I believe in gratitude.  I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for where I live.
    And the Super Committee . . .  and our beloved Congress . . . I think that this year, I will count my blessings while walking outside.  Taking deep breaths and focusing on the space between the stars.  This one, I gotta walk off.
    Blessed be.

Goodnight Nurse

    I have been remembering old hurts.  Feels like part of the season.  Sorting through, deciding what to keep, what to throw away.  Driving down the road the other night, I found myself thinking about an old hurt.  Thinking about it.  To give words to the experience, “Oh yeah. I forgot about that place – a bit tender there.” 
    I realize that this particular hurt goes with a particular time of year – an anniversary if you will.  I do not like using that term though.  This hurt is not that awful.  It’s over and done with.  Everybody loves everybody, mostly.  Best not to think about it anymore. Walk down a new road, which I thought I had. And then . . . 
    I have been thinking about the difference between self compassion and nursing old grudges.  Here is what I have been doing.  When the thought of the old hurt comes up, I consciously think,”Yes, that was hard on you.” I automatically exhale, and I think my face softens in the way it does when I am compassionate toward someone else.  I can feel the compassion come over me.  A gentleness flows down from around my eyes, and my shoulders soften.  I probably take a few deep breaths, which down here is its own reward because the sweet, sweet smell of the South County grass always makes my heart smile.  Anyway, I feel better, softer on myself.
    Notice, I haven’t mentioned anything about the nature of the hurt, or who did what to whom.  That’s the surprising thing about all of this, and why I wanted to write about it.  It’s really not at all about the other person, or who did what to whom.  Intellectually, I have already made my peace with what happened.  I believe I understand everyone’s reasons for their behavior, and I feel validated in my feelings about it at the time and now.  So, it’s time to let it go. Move beyond it.
    Just do it.
    As soon as the sports talk starts, I know we have left my path.  Just do it is easier said than done, and in my experience, when it comes to feelings, just do it means just deny your feelings.  I don’t want to wallow, but I believe in my ability to transform a stuck place in me if I am willing to let the process unfold fully.
    I think I am describing a latter stage of letting go. Owning the hurts and offering compassion without judgment is what this is about – the business of tending to the emotional residue of life.  I know I am transformed by my experiences, and at this moment, it is possible for me to believe that the difficult ones can bring their own gifts if I don’t get scared and shut down along the way.
    Blessed be. 

Climbing Trees

    Today in Mexico, folks celebrate the Day of the Dead.  I don’t know what this holiday feels like for those who don’t have any Dead.  For me, it feels like old home week.  I like the tradition of setting out pictures and decorating with flowers.  Some people cook special foods.  For the past couple of evenings, I have burned candles in honor of my family members who have passed on.  It’s nice to once again have something to do for them.  It’s been such a long time since I have seen them.  I have been telling my daughter happy stories of times together with them and describing traits that she shares with each of them.
    There were six in my family of origin.  Growing up, that number felt tangible – two of each plus Mom and Dad.  When we were all together we felt full and robust, and when there started to be spouses, our gatherings felt like parties.  We loved to get together, and we were enough.  (We always called boyfriends and girlfriends "spouses" even before they actually were.)  I remember after they first passed feeling acutely aware of our much reduced number.  We who remained were incomplete and not nearly enough.  Over the years we have added actual spouses, extended family, and GRANDKIDS!  It’s been a while now, and we feel full again – different, but mostly enough.  Somehow, this year during this time of remembering, I have had moments where I feel full in the old way.  Hard to put into words, but precious to live through.  It feels like a visit, not just from my Dear Ones, but from a time that has passed.  Somehow, I get to be me now but also me then, before it ever occurred to me that it all could change.  For a moment here and there, I feel it, and the feeling tastes sweet.  Rather than being a only memory, the experience is somehow fresh and lovely – for a moment.
    So for the remaining day or so, I will continue to climb our family tree – feeling like one of six for the first time in fifteen years and enjoying the view.  My Dad used to feed ice cream sandwiches to our fat happy dog.  He (both of them) loved it.  That dog outlived my Dad.
    Blessed be.

What Dreams May Come

    I haven’t posted anything in quite a while.  I began writing one or two ideas, but nothing  materialized.  My life in these weeks has been full of soccer games (!), board meetings, major construction, two weddings performed, meeting with clients, and of course, my favorite, medication change hijinks. (Steroids and sleep – why can’t we all just be friends?)  On top of that, in the last week, I really noticed the lack o’ blog.  That in itself became a thing.
     “Why am I not writing? Folks won’t keep reading if you stop writing. Product girlfriend. You need product!” (I don’t even try to sound enlightened when I have inner conversations. Gets stuck in my teeth.)
    To give myself credit, (and why wouldn’t I?) I realize that blogging or not blogging is not really the thing.  I write about what I am thinking about.  I write when I have something to say.  The anxiousness was really about a stuckness in my inner process. 
    So, I did some inner work yesterday morning, and I definitely feel more lined up.  No question that clarity came. It’s just that, at first, I didn’t want to hear it.  That’s actually not true.  A part of me loved hearing it.  My body exhaled.  I took a walk.  I could breathe.  I felt a flush of energy come into my body.  It’s just my ego self that had been resisting getting with the program.
    How unusual.
    What I heard was that it’s not time to manifest a BIG NEW IDEA. That’s when I noticed that it’s big, fat glorious Fall out here!  No question that the movement in Nature is downward and inward.  No question that rest and detoxification and being here now are what my body wanted to be doing right then.  As usual, as soon as I surrendered to what felt right to do, rather than what felt like pulling teeth to do, things opened up and creativity started flowing again.
    I realized there was no need for a big new idea.  I already had it.  I have known for some time what I want to do next.  I have heard it clearly a couple of times while journaling and praying.  When I think about the books I have bought and the conversations I have most enjoyed in the past couple of years, all of this makes a great deal of sense.  I am already doing what I am supposed to be doing next.  Sitting here now, I can’t believe that yesterday I was still wringing my hands and writing in my journal, “what’s next for me?”
    I have had plenty of inspiration, I just kept denying it.  That’s right. When inspiration finally came, my first impulse was to give it back! I guess I needed to sit with it for a while.  I needed to take the next step of acknowledging my commitment to moving forward on the idea. And come to think of it, I also needed that commitment to include moving forward on the idea in balance with what my body needs to be well.  The cosmology of Chinese acupuncture holds the energy of Fall as one of sorting through and determining the value of things – what to keep, what to throw away.  That process of bringing myself in tune with Nature and then listening to my inner voice represents the core of the work I have been doing for several years now, and yet it never fails to amaze me.  There is so much to discover in this life! Blessed be.

Zelda Mae Dance

    I have noticed a lot of working through going on right now.  Storm and earthquake recovery and repair goes on all around us – structures damaged by shaking and wind, water damage, canceled events, not to mention unscrupulous insurance providers.  Money concerns continue to press us, and organizations face cutbacks and closures.  As usual, I won’t even mention the shenanigans going on in Congress, except to wonder if a tree has to fall on their houses in order for them to cut the crap and get to governing.
    I was driving down the road the other night on the way to a meeting about a legal dispute when the song, “Shake Your Groove Thing,” came on the Ipod.  I had a fairly intense visceral impulse to jump out of the car and dance.  I could feel how good it would feel, in my body, to shake my, well, you know.  Of course, I didn’t.  The first thought I had after that was, “You’ve got to go to this meeting.” Of course, I did, but the experience stayed with me.  I remembered it several times through the evening and wondered what it meant. 
    I realize now that part of me really wants to cut loose and have some fun.  Yet, another part of me wonders if it’s ok to stop thinking (and let’s face it worrying) about the issues at hand long enough to have fun.  Of course, as soon as the words come fully to the surface of the consciousness, the answer seems obvious.  Clearly, dealing with serious matters in no way requires us to surrender joy.  In fact, I would suggest quite the opposite.  Emotional resilience comes from balancing the serious with the less so.  My logical mind knows this quite well, and yet, I notice at times an unconscious impulse to pull myself back.  I am working with it.  Like most feelings, observing moves it, and right now, I am looking forward to a weekend of family and friends and a wedding that I am performing for two of my beloveds.
    I knew a woman once who gave herself the name Rose May Dance when she reached midlife.  I always liked it, and I get it now like never before.  So may I re-introduce myself?  Today, call me Zelda Mae Dance, and of course, you already know Peaches and Herb.

I'm Limited

    For weeks now, I have had that song from the Broadway play, Wicked, in my head.  The song begins with the main character singing, “I’m limited.” That line makes me feel emotional when I hear it.  I feel limited these days, and let’s just say I’m not hooked on that feeling!  I hate feeling like I can’t accomplish what I want to do.  When I make a mistake or I have to let go of something I wanted to do but don’t have the energy for, I find it difficult to live with.  Maybe better said, I find it difficult to live with how that makes me feel.
    How that makes me feel. And how exactly does that make me feel?    Disappointed with myself? Embarrassed?  Maybe at first, but that’s not what it boils down to for me.  Turns out, it scares me.
     Scares me?
    Well, yes. What will I do if I can’t do what I want to do right now? My mind begins racing down roads to nowhere or worse.  I wonder if this experience of limit will only lead to more of the same.  My Inner Critic helpfully offers some harsh self judgment words like lazy or failure.  Maybe I don’t get to live the life I am supposed to live.  It gets pretty ugly in there.
    Of course, my first response often involves shutting down emotionally.  The problem with that of course is that shutting down leads to stagnation and a failure to recognize rising energy when it comes. And it does come.  If I am closed down, I miss the opportunity for movement in a new direction – new ideas, new inspirations . . .
    Limited.
    Aren’t we all?
    It occurs to me that this conversation is about living within my emotional and physical means, and said that way, it sounds like a good thing.  Healthy boundaries are good, at least when we are talking about other people.  For ourselves, we’re supposed to refuse to be limited by the idea of our own limitations. And we wonder why the federal budget is such a mess.
    How can I live with my own physical and emotional limitations without unnecessarily limiting myself?  I struggle with this.  I know that the answer includes staying connected and present as I walk through the days.  When I notice myself struggling or shutdown, connecting with another person often helps me.  Sometimes, I can regain a sense of connection through journaling or prayer, but when I feel really bad, connecting with another person seems to work best.
    I confess that I wish that I didn’t have this struggle.  I wish I could simply do what I want when I want to, but the thing is:
    I’m limited.

Mama Mia

    I live on a lovely piece of land that I feel would appreciate far more nurturing from me than I give it.  So, as much as I love where I live (and I really do love it), I often feel like a bad parent when I drive down my driveway.  Sitting here today, I wonder if I sometimes avoid spending more time in my yard because of the ever present should do list I have for her in mind. 
    Yes, my yard is a She.
    Don’t start.
    Anyway, this weekend, one of my Circlesisters and I got together to mark the Autumnal Equinox.  Our circles usually involve a fair amount of yakking, noshing, tee drinking, and then some practice together in keeping with the season.  So yesterday during the pre-practice noshing and yakking, my Sister and I both acknowledged that we were coming to our Circle feeling somewhat depleted.  Both of us have a great deal on our minds and our agendas and feel busy with the day to day of our lives.  We, neither of us, felt we had a lot of energy to bring to our practice together.  So, we decided to go outside and sit together at the edge of the woods to meditate and pray.
    We picked a lovely corner in a northern point in my yard.  A lovely white Rose of Sharon blooms there in August.  I have always thought that place seemed like a gate to the woods beyond.  Rose of Sharon bloomed late this year, just in the last week or so.  The gray of the sky and the cool humidity of the day felt restful and hushed.  The still green leaves on the trees soothed the eyes and the mind. 
    We said a few words, lit a candle and some incense, sat and listened.  Eyes wise open, I looked into all of that green and felt enormous comfort and welcome.  I drank in the quiet and the gentle sounds of life proceeding quiet nicely all around me and remembered my place.
    I am a part of the web of life, and it does not revolve around me.  In that moment, nothing was required of me and yet I received so much – receive so much- from the life all around me.  I felt like a child happily playing in Mama’s back yard, and I remembered the contentment I feel when my child is happily playing in my yard.  Mother and daughter nurturing each other, in reciprocal relationship.  My co-dependent belief that I must always take care of distracts me from the rich experiencing of this moment on this land, together with all that is.  The equinox is about balancing – night and day, light and dark, nurturing and being nurtured. 
    Yesterday, I offered thanks for being nurtured, hanging out with Mama Mia.
    Blessed be.

Here Comes the Sun

    I walked outside.  My shoulders straightened.  My head lifted.
    Sun.
    It’s yellow, warm, suddenly Summer.
    Amazing how 92 straight days of rain (well it feels like 92) can begin to affect how you view your life.  I found myself wanting to burn candles and play Christmas music – my sure fire way to keep my spirits up during the darker winter months.  As ever, I am awed by the way change comes into the life.  All of a sudden, it’s like it’s always been this way.
    Rain?  What rain?  Maybe we should have a picnic.
    Once again, life reminds me to open myself to the possibility of the moment – this moment. And then the next.  I frequently say that I hate change.  Turns out, that’s not precisely true.  Not even close. 
    Here comes the Sun, and I say, I’m alright.

When Words Get in the Way

    For a while now,  I have suspected that I am tuned a little differently than most  people.  The words that get used and the way they resonate with me makes a huge difference in how I feel.  I have been accused from time to time by relatives (blood and otherwise) of being over sensitive, thin skinned, and occasionally even, overly suited to theatrical pursuits.  Sometimes, I have worried and suffered over what something gets called and what that means. In the context of illness, I am particularly aware that words mean things, imply consequences and possible outcomes that can be hard to live with.
    Too often, I find myself ruminating over a particular word or phrase.  Tones and attitudes play a part as well.  Feelings go with those thoughts – otherness, fear, helplessness,  anger, or even shame and humiliation.
    “Much too sensitive,” my ever vigilant inner critic offers helpfully in situations such as these.  “You need to learn to ignore those feelings – toughen up.  Get on with it.” 
    That’s how She rolls.
    Here’s the thing though, my wellness very much includes becoming more in tune with how things affect me, not less.  Times when I ignore how I feel often lead to inflammation and illness, I have discovered.  Of course, regularly turning off feelings turns out to be bad for lots of us, unless we like addiction, codependency, anger and victimhood.  I could go on, but there is no need for me to get militant.
    I comfort myself with the thought that words matter, and perhaps I am hearing nuances worth noticing.  This is not a wind up to a plea for political correctness.  Sometimes a well chosen word or phrase shines a light where I have avoided looking.  The clang of a naked truth reverberates and guides me towards good.
    It’s in the delivery I guess.  I hate the offhand macho attitude that shows up so often in medical settings.  Unchecked egos of doctors and nurses combined with disrespected staff persons create an environment that makes us want to apologize for troubling them or become belligerent and uncooperative because they deserve it.  I’ll own my part.  Seldom am I at my social best when I feel sick or scared. Or both.  I’ll wager that I am not alone in this regard.
    Still.  Most of us feel better when treated with dignity and respect.  In my experience, some of it begets more of it, in kind.  I heard Oprah say that everyone wants to receive the same message from her when they come on the show:
    I see you. I hear you. What you say matters to me. 
    Let the healing begin.

Who Can Stop the Rain?

   What a strange day this has been.  It’s late Summer, and there is still the call to partake of the fruits of the season, the colors of abundance.  The kids are going back to school so the vibe of the Fall to get moving, get busy, get organized is here, ready or not.  And, in the midst of it – all electronic media today calls us to, simply, fear.  We had some early prep in the form of a 5.8 earthquake on Tuesday so we’re already a little strange, now here comes Irene.
    Here’s the thing: I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t feel like it.  All day, I have had the feeling that I should be doing something, but I can’t imagine what that would be.  I’ll bring in my patio plant, stack the chairs under cover this evening – 10 minutes maybe.  I filled up my 10 gallon jug of water, but beyond that, WHAT???? 
    The truth is, I do not know what will happen as a result of Irene passing through.  I hope nothing too bad.  All this free floating anxiety and spin doctoring courtesy of our friends at the power company serves me no useful purpose.  I suppose if the power is out for days, they’ll try to say, “You can’t be mad at us. We told you this could happen.”  They shouldn’t waste their electronic breaths on me.  I will still be mad at them for neglected infrastructure maintenance and improvement, record profits, and now for their fear-mongering PR campaign.
    Although I have thoroughly enjoyed this rant and thanks for hanging in with me through it, it has little to do with anything important.  I write this today to tell you about the process that preceded me writing.  All day, I have felt tired, fuzzy, and unconnected.  I didn’t even sleep well last night.  I had some stories (and self judgments) about what might be going on with me, but nothing that helped with getting me moving.  So I did what I often do when I can’t do anything else – I recreated in reading someone else’s ideas.
    Thorne Coyle wrote on her website, “if we don’t meet each day from a pool of silence, we will drown in the noise of our own making. The clamor of the over-culture will hijack our best intentions over and over.”  Hmm.  I took a few minutes and did some square breathing.  What came up as I did the breathing was this slightly below the surface noise about the upcoming hurricane, and the thought that maybe I should be more worried. 
    I’m worried that I am not more worried.  Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce senseless suffering, ducca to those of the Buddhist persuasion.  I do not have any brilliant answers as to how one should respond to senseless suffering when she finds it.  It helped me to recognize and name it for myself.  What I did after that was drink some water, look at pictures from our recent day trip to the beach, and sit down to write this blog.  In a little while, I will meet with some clients. Blessed be.

Being the Change

    For a long time, I thought I had the soul of a warrior.  My childhood and younger days were all about fighting to defend those who were being picked on, engaging in public debate for social change, getting involved in activist causes.  I have been quick to throw myself into the middle of conflicts to try to make things better.  It is what I have always felt drawn to do.  It’s who I thought I was.  I remember a conversation early in my marriage when I shared this opinion of myself, and my husband said, in his rather mild taoist priest-like way, “You know, if you were at heart a warrior, I think you’d be better at it.”
    No, I did not pull out my sword at that moment and cut off his head.
    He actually had a point, so to speak.  Here’s what it was. He told me that although I might win the battle, the cost of the fight for me, emotionally, was rather high, or as he actually put it, “the next day, you shouldn’t be here bleeding all over the floor.” 
    So to speak.
    That conversation changed my life.  I have spent the past 15 years learning more about self care and boundaries, balancing passion and restraint, and returning often to the Serenity Prayer.  I went back to school.  I became a counselor. And, I haven’t had a migraine headache since I was 30.  The thing is, I have never lost interest in making things better.  I went to social work school for heavens sake!  I just haven’t involved myself in politics much in the last several years.  ( I have also quickly exited any conversations containing the phrase, “what’s that supposed to mean?” but that’s for another day.)
    Well, I’m back in politics.  I have involved myself in a fight about zoning in the area where I live.  I have been writing, speaking in public, and going to lots of meetings.  I’ve recently joined a Board.  I was sitting in a County Council meeting last night waiting to testify, reading an article on contemplative education.  The term was described as the “marriage of a compassionate heart and a purposeful mind.”  It occurred to me that somehow, I have to engage in the political process in a way that feels consistent with what I now know.
     Albert Einstein said that “problems can’t be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.”  I don’t want to become my enemy.  I don’t even want to have an enemy.  I really think that we have lost sight of our values in recent times.  “Adversarial” is not the environment in which humans do their best work.  Competition is not our highest value.  Politics should not be played like some extreme sporting event.  We may pray for it, but the best man hardly ever wins, and don’t even get me started about how often the best woman  . . .
    I will meditate today.  I will spend some time outside.  I will actively do something creative to get my right brain fed and happy, and I will give of myself to someone today.  I have learned that my insides need to match my outsides.  Today, I will be the change that I wish to see in the world.

It's Not Fall Yet

    I have had two thoughts I have been carrying around for the last week or so, planning to write them here.  As you may know, nothing happened.  I don’t know if you’ve been feeling it, but there is an undercurrent of Fall flowing through these days.  The kids are getting ready to go back to school.  Many of us are returning from vacations.  And we’ve had these gorgeous cool mornings.  I associate Fall with making lists and getting things done.  For those tuned to the agrarian, it’s harvest time.  The energy of the harvest is busy.  I’ve always liked it.
    So early this morning, I sat down to journal with a “let’s get cracking” intention.  And . . . I’m just not feeling it.  I had a moment of tiny panic, and I could hear my Inner Critic clearing her throat and tuning up for the talking to that was surely “for my own good” – something about my limitations and probably weight loss.  I’m just guessing.  Anyway, that’s not the story.  Here’s what happened after that.
    I had the IPOD playing in the kitchen, and I heard the music change mid song to a Sweet Honey In The Rock sacred song.  (Earthy and Africa mystical in case you are unfamiliar.)  I was aware of my nose being filled with the sweet grass smell I associate with down here.  It smells a bit like chamomile and is truly heavenly.  A cardinal chirped from the railing across the porch and flew right in front of me into the woods.  And my little Rosie popped up at my knee looking for a petting.  All of this and a cup of really good hot tea, experienced more or less at once.  It was a full, truly beautiful moment.
    And I heard in my head, all at once, as though it had already been spoken and I was remembering it, “My child, smell the sweet grass.”  It was as if the Earth rose up and to meet me.  What began as a thought about limitations became a moment of nourishment and healing, an  abundant experience of rightness.  I know with certainty that what’s next for me is just around the corner, just not this moment.  This moment is for taking it all in and letting myself be filled.  
    Or, said another way, it’s not Fall yet.  

On Ripe Peaches and Doing the Right Thing

    Sitting here right now, I just want to stop the world and get off for a while.  It is so beautiful outside this morning.  The temperature is a cool 78 degrees.  The sky dazzles me with a low humidity blue, and there is full crape myrtle representation.  Everything about this time of year says, “Use your five senses.  Take it all in.  Winter is coming.”
    It is.
    But, it’s a work day, and the house is a mess, and I need to work on a presentation I’m giving in the early Fall.  The thing is, the peaches will only be available for another couple of weeks.
    You know that buzzy, caffeinated feeling you can get in your head – tired and activated all at the same time?
    Right. 
    So I went outside for 15 minutes just now and sat looking at the trees.  It’s like they breathe with me.  The green is so soothing, and of course it’s not just one green.  There are many shades of green among the leaves as they blow in this gorgeous breeze today.  Feeling the air on my skin.  Breathing in and out.  I feel gratitude to get to be doing this right now.
    I find I can only sit out there for about 15 minutes, then the day’s work calls me back in.  I still have no idea what to do about the ants on the kitchen counter, but I feel a bit differently inside.   
    Barbara Walters once asked someone if they were a tree, what kind would they be.  As I sit here right now breathing in and out with my eyes closed, I can see the green of those leaves behind my eyes.

The State We're In

    I can hardly bear to think about the fight about money going on in national politics right now.  Not much point.  I know which team I usually root for.  I think both sides have a point to some extent on this one.  Nothing I do will affect the fight, and the fight may very much affect my life.  Honestly, I try not to think about it.  
    That’s actually what I have been thinking about.  In my line of work, when someone is systematically ignoring something that has affected  or will affect their lives catastrophically we call it denial.  And anyone who’s ever tried it knows or at least has felt the affects of maintaining a state of denial.  It takes a lot of work.  We have to numb ourselves to our feelings about the subject – whenever they come up. And they come up.  Some of the ways we numb ourselves is with drugs, alcohol, gambling, compulsive sex, overeating, over spending.  Gosh, we don’t have epidemic levels of any of those behaviors in our country . . .
    Then of course, the thing about being numb is that we don’t just numb ourselves to the bad thing.  Numb is numb.  We lose our capacity to experience the good stuff too.  So fun doesn’t feel like as much fun as it used to, and we need to go to more and more extreme lengths just to feel the thrill of being alive. Our patience and our attention span grows ever shorter as we seek distraction from the worries and burdens we are trying to avoid.  Many of us feel disheartened and discouraged and quick to anger.  We want to care about things, but what’s the point?
    I think a numb electorate works for the powers that be.  The doings are so exaggerated that we can barely stand to listen.  Other than tweeting “Go Red!” or “Go Blue” when they tell us too, there is nothing that we can do.  It’s all too ridiculous and too scary to really think about. So we try not to think about it.  We don’t require subtlety from our representatives.  There is little patience for listening to reasoning and comments longer than a sound byte.  Who needs government?  We’ll just all sound tough on Twitter.
    I have been asking myself what can I do? All I can think of right now is to try to cultivate in myself the kind of open-mindedness I wish existed more in Congress right now.  That means I am trying to listen to points of view I disagree with.  I let myself feel whatever feelings go with tuning in, and I try to stay open.  I am practicing (or trying to practice!) tolerance.  Ghandi said we should be the change we wish to see in the World.  Maybe that’s where we start.

The Tenor of the Days

    As the Mama of a soon to be five year old, you hear yourself talking, ahem, a lot.  Often, I have the feeling that I am the only one who hears me when I talk, but that is a side issue.  I spend a great deal of time directing my daughter.  What I mean by that is telling her what to do, what not to do, and in some sense, how to be.  The other day we were having an extended . . . we will call it a conversation . . . about picking up and putting away.  At some point she asked me if I liked her. 
    Hello.
    As a matter of fact, I do like her.  I told her this.  We talked about how it feels to pick up and put away our toys. (We both don’t love it.)  Everybody loves everybody.  Next topic.  It got me to thinking though.  If I am involved in a day in and day out conversation with my daughter about how to be, is what I most want her to know being communicated?
    I’m not talking about saying, “I love you” twenty five times a day.   Nothing wrong with saying the words, but I think our deepest sense of being loved and being worthy of it comes to us more subtly and much more powerfully than that.  Earlier this year, I heard Toni Morrison speaking about raising her children.  She said that whenever her child entered the room and she looked at him, she wanted her fundamental love and acceptance of him to be present in her eyes.  Think about that.
    For me, it means remaining connected to my deepest regard for my daughter even as we disagree, experience frustration or whatever else.  What a thing.  I’ve been trying it here lately – not always easy.  It ends up being a mindfulness practice.  I hear myself speaking, call to mind my intention to stay connected, and my energy changes.  I think my tone changes.  I am hoping this speaks to the deepest part of her.
        The most interesting part of this practice is how I feel when I am doing it. I feel happier when I am presencing my regard for my child.  In truth, I feel more connected to the Divine.  The Divine in me connects to the Divine in you.  And please use your inside voice when we’re in the library.

Starting Where I Am

Finally and at last!  I walked outside this afternoon to a warm breezy day and took what felt like the first deep breath in a week.  The oven we’ve been living in has transformed into a regular warm Maryland Summer day. (That’s around 90 degrees for you out of towners.)  As I walked into the backyard looking for a little renegade beagle, I felt the receptivity of the trees and greenery all around.  As I breathed in and out, I felt the tension leaving my body and somehow being absorbed and transformed by the life all around me.  During these last hot days, it's been as if the hot air pushes back against me when I walk outside -- much harder for me to connect to the calming effect I so enjoy.

The energy of Summer is such a pleasure.  I love the peaches and the tomatoes and swimming in the pool.  I also think that the bright golden pop of the Black Eyed Susans deserves special mention here.  I love the emphasis on connection that goes with the energy of Summer.  It's not always easy though, all that heat and human relationships can surface the places where we feel wounded and blocked.  (Does anyone really want to think for too long about those family vacation fights?) Personal growth can feel stagnated in the heat of these days, and yet today, I am reminded that movement will come if I am open to it.  It's starting to rain. I can hear the wind in the trees.  It feels like an exhale.

It seems like a good day to begin this dialog with you.  As I write, I hold the intention to share what I learn as I go through the days, and I would like to hear your thoughts, additions, and reactions if you wish.  I am not interested in negativity or bashing, so if it comes up, write it somewhere else -- or walk outside and breathe.  Blessed be.