This weekend, I was catching up on reading some of my favorite blogs...not an easy thing to do when I'm busy writing my own! But they inspire me, so it is a must. One of the blogs I read regularly, Carrots 'n' Cake, brought me a great reminder...that what we want -- read: what our mind wants -- isn't always what's best for our body.
Not brain surgery, I know. How many times do we continue eating after we're full? Who hasn't had more than their share to drink because it sounds like such a good idea at the time? And what about ignoring our physical limitations?
While we are not our body, our continual trip around the sun is made possible by it. We are in partnership with it whether we realize it or not, and as such, we'd best mind it to a degree, or pay the consequences.
So how can we listen more carefully to our bodies, to what they are trying to communicate to us? How do we realize that while mind-over-matter can be a remarkable thing to behold, there may be some things that are in our body's best interest not to do...regardless of our mind's commitment to the contrary?
Tina from Carrots 'n' Cake was blogging about her recent New York Marathon adventure and what she learned about herself from the experience: "I love running more than my body does." You have no idea how relieved I was to see someone admit this.
Because in a very small way it gives me permission to admit it, too. And not just about running.
My body and my mind have come to blows many times in my life regarding who has seniority. Illnesses and injuries -- in many cases debilitating -- all because my mind eagerly picked up the gauntlet, time and time again, pushing my body farther than it could handle. I have never been one to back down from a challenge, physical or otherwise, and am one of those wild types who will sometimes invite a challenge simply for the opportunity to remind myself I can do anything I set my mind to.
I like to say this is the Sisu in me...but I still wonder if it's not just some level of pig-headed egoism instead. When "Bring it On!" becomes your war-cry, perhaps the Universe simply decides it's time for some different lessons instead...ones that require a bit less reckless abandon and more, how shall I put this, fine-footed-finesse?
As a firm believer that experience is the greatest teacher, what I've learned is that no matter what wild adventure I'm in the middle of, the experience of how I'm listening to -- or rather not listening to -- my body trumps everything as the most important. Perhaps it's because I've spent so much of my life idolizing the god of the mind that the lessons these days are less about a pure exploration of what I'm capable of and more about asking the hard question: how on earth can I get my mind and body to work together?
My mind believes it's invincible. My body knows otherwise. While it's priceless to know of your toughness, to trust without a doubt that you have the mental stamina to make it through any possible challenge that presents itself, it's also a beautiful and precious thing to learn to honor the body and what it can handle.
This is a perfect reminder for me going into Thanksgiving week at the bakery -- one of the busiest holidays of the year for us, all crammed into three exceptionally fast-pace, yet very long days. Thanksgiving 2009 is my most recent example of how I can let the signals from my body get hijacked by my desire to do it all.
Gratefully, I'm learning -- ever so slowly -- to mind the body. Staying connected with my body through eating well and yoga asana is crucial. Meditation helps. And presence is key.
What is your experience striking a workable balance between mind and body?//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
Our impromptu Friends and Family Week continues tonight as we go out for a belated birthday dinner with friends for the three of us with October birthdays. Even though it's a busy week, we are taking advantage of an open night for all to make this happen...since last year time got away from us (and real life happened) causing us not to celebrate until January!
Now, I'm all for extending my birthday celebration and everything, but that's ridiculous!
Last January's dinner was at Carmelo's Italian Restaurant in St. Paul and we had such a wonderful experience, we thought we'd try it again. I LOVE this place! And I love what they stand for (quoted from their website):
we do not believe in “ready-made” we believe in homemade that is why everything we serve, from the bread to the pasta to all of our sauces, they are made from scratch & all from generational recipes, just the way grandpa carmelo intended it to be
Sniff, sniff...so beautiful, I could cry!
Buon appetito!
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Monday, November 21, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Holding On
Ever since I started meditating daily, a little more than a year ago, I've started to notice where I'm holding tension in my body. I always used to think it was exclusively in my neck, my shoulders, all those trouble spots I get a talking to from when I go to the chiropractor or for a massage. I didn't realize it, but there's more.
Lots more.
Do I have that much tension? It doesn't seem like it, especially since starting meditation and getting back into yoga (asana) practice...you'd think I'd be as relaxed as relaxed can be. Or at least I think I should be!
So imagine my surprise when every single time I sit in meditation, the muscles in the back of my right knee and thigh tense up almost immediately. When I first noticed this, just a few weeks after I started meditating regularly, I was intrigued by it. I tried everything I could to relax it.
I thought maybe it was how I was sitting, that the muscles in that leg somehow thought they needed to fire differently to support me. But I was sitting in simple cross-legged pose. How much easier can it get? So I tried sitting with my left leg crossed on top...didn't help, nor did my left leg respond the way my right one did to being on the outside.
So I tried just being aware of it. Being aware of it does help -- noticing it matters and gets me to consciously relax it every time I feel it. But it hasn't made it go away. Isn't that what they say, being aware of the problem is the first step to recovery?
Where's the recovery?
So I had to ask the hard question: What am I holding on to? And why won't I let it go?
Part of the issue many of us have with our bodies is that we don't want to feel what's going on, because then we feel we're supposed to do something about it. We feel a pain and our first instinct is to make it go away. We think our bodies are supposed to be this perfectly healthy, perfectly relaxed vehicle that we get to cruise around in -- takes all the abuse, requires none of the upkeep. We expect it to feel great all the time, perform great under pressure, and just show up when we need it.
But maybe our bodies are holding onto things for a reason. Maybe they've got something to say.
Maybe, this mysterious, constant tension in the back of my leg stays for exactly this reason -- it's got me noticing and paying attention. It's serving a purpose in the larger scheme of things. Maybe if it trains me to pay attention to my body in times other than meditation, if it allows me to notice when I've stopped breathing or my shoulders are up in my ears, so I can consciously relax during other times of my day, maybe it's doing its job.
And if it wants to stay, who am I to say otherwise?
Maybe it doesn't have to go away. Maybe I don't need to control it. Maybe I just get to listen. Maybe it gives me the opportunity to practice presence, acceptance, and patience. And gratitude.
And maybe that's enough.
What are you holding onto?//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
I've got a staff meeting tonight at the bakery to prepare folks for theonslaught of the holidays fun and exciting weeks ahead. I've been saying all day that I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week. Can you believe it?? Yikes!
So it's a pizza party for me around the production table.
How 'bout you?
Whatever it is, I wish you a great night!
Lots more.
Do I have that much tension? It doesn't seem like it, especially since starting meditation and getting back into yoga (asana) practice...you'd think I'd be as relaxed as relaxed can be. Or at least I think I should be!
So imagine my surprise when every single time I sit in meditation, the muscles in the back of my right knee and thigh tense up almost immediately. When I first noticed this, just a few weeks after I started meditating regularly, I was intrigued by it. I tried everything I could to relax it.
I thought maybe it was how I was sitting, that the muscles in that leg somehow thought they needed to fire differently to support me. But I was sitting in simple cross-legged pose. How much easier can it get? So I tried sitting with my left leg crossed on top...didn't help, nor did my left leg respond the way my right one did to being on the outside.
So I tried just being aware of it. Being aware of it does help -- noticing it matters and gets me to consciously relax it every time I feel it. But it hasn't made it go away. Isn't that what they say, being aware of the problem is the first step to recovery?
Where's the recovery?
So I had to ask the hard question: What am I holding on to? And why won't I let it go?
Part of the issue many of us have with our bodies is that we don't want to feel what's going on, because then we feel we're supposed to do something about it. We feel a pain and our first instinct is to make it go away. We think our bodies are supposed to be this perfectly healthy, perfectly relaxed vehicle that we get to cruise around in -- takes all the abuse, requires none of the upkeep. We expect it to feel great all the time, perform great under pressure, and just show up when we need it.
But maybe our bodies are holding onto things for a reason. Maybe they've got something to say.
Maybe, this mysterious, constant tension in the back of my leg stays for exactly this reason -- it's got me noticing and paying attention. It's serving a purpose in the larger scheme of things. Maybe if it trains me to pay attention to my body in times other than meditation, if it allows me to notice when I've stopped breathing or my shoulders are up in my ears, so I can consciously relax during other times of my day, maybe it's doing its job.
And if it wants to stay, who am I to say otherwise?
Maybe it doesn't have to go away. Maybe I don't need to control it. Maybe I just get to listen. Maybe it gives me the opportunity to practice presence, acceptance, and patience. And gratitude.
And maybe that's enough.
What are you holding onto?//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
I've got a staff meeting tonight at the bakery to prepare folks for the
So it's a pizza party for me around the production table.
How 'bout you?
Whatever it is, I wish you a great night!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Five Minute Rule
It is yet another week that is running away with all of my good intentions for taking care of myself and healthy living. The busier I get, the more my self-care gets set by the wayside. Eating three square meals with healthy snacks, walking the dog, quality time with my husband, meditation, my asana practice.
It's the last two that are the most difficult to fit in when I'm busiest. Not necessarily because I'm so busy, but because I resist them. And yet it's what I need most. Yoga is the greatest tool I have access to for bringing me home to myself...and it's coming home to myself that's the most challenging when I'm feeling spent.
It seems counter intuitive, right? Why wouldn't we want to do what is best for us when we're struggling the most?
Because when we're feeling lousy, be it illness or feeling drawn out or overwhelmed, it isn't easy to be with those feelings. It isn't easy to be with a body that aches from overuse or a mind that is scattered or a will that is just too tired to continue with our commitments. To just be still and quiet and honor wherever we are takes a surprising amount of effort. Our mind wants nothing to do with it. Our mind wants distraction -- TV, food, alcohol, sleep, what have you. But to sit with it? To let "lousy" be OK?
Impossible!
The truth is, to accept the best of life, we need to learn to accept the not-so-best of life. We can continue our habits of distraction, or we can make the tiniest effort to accept ourselves as we are, where we are, when we are.
This is what I call the "Five Minute Rule".
When fifteen minutes of meditation feels like it would be just too much, when doing a yoga class -- even a restorative one -- feels like one more to-do on the list, I give myself five minutes. I lay on the floor and breathe. Long deep in, long deep out. I bring a knee to my chest and breathe in, and breathe out. In and out. I switch legs and breathe in, and breathe out. In and out. Then I bring both knees in, hug them to my chest, breathing in, breathing out, and I rock slowly side to side. I breathe. I feel my body. I feel my breath in my chest, in my belly. I remind myself that I'm alive, that this body I'm in is beautiful and precious and deserves to be felt. Deserves to be acknowledged and cared for in all the ways I know how.
Five minutes...it goes a long way.
What will you make time for tonight?//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
Papa Murphy's in on the menu tonight -- Cowboy Pizza -- because it's "Clean the House" night at our house. Nice to know our oven's doing the cooking while we're doing the rest of the hard work around here. We're entertaining three times in the next five days so it's now or never.
To be clear, I'm not one of those frantic, must-make-the-house-look-perfect-for-company folks. It's just that sometimes it's more obvious than others when it needs to be done.
Let's just call this one of those days...
It's the last two that are the most difficult to fit in when I'm busiest. Not necessarily because I'm so busy, but because I resist them. And yet it's what I need most. Yoga is the greatest tool I have access to for bringing me home to myself...and it's coming home to myself that's the most challenging when I'm feeling spent.
It seems counter intuitive, right? Why wouldn't we want to do what is best for us when we're struggling the most?
Because when we're feeling lousy, be it illness or feeling drawn out or overwhelmed, it isn't easy to be with those feelings. It isn't easy to be with a body that aches from overuse or a mind that is scattered or a will that is just too tired to continue with our commitments. To just be still and quiet and honor wherever we are takes a surprising amount of effort. Our mind wants nothing to do with it. Our mind wants distraction -- TV, food, alcohol, sleep, what have you. But to sit with it? To let "lousy" be OK?
Impossible!
The truth is, to accept the best of life, we need to learn to accept the not-so-best of life. We can continue our habits of distraction, or we can make the tiniest effort to accept ourselves as we are, where we are, when we are.
This is what I call the "Five Minute Rule".
When fifteen minutes of meditation feels like it would be just too much, when doing a yoga class -- even a restorative one -- feels like one more to-do on the list, I give myself five minutes. I lay on the floor and breathe. Long deep in, long deep out. I bring a knee to my chest and breathe in, and breathe out. In and out. I switch legs and breathe in, and breathe out. In and out. Then I bring both knees in, hug them to my chest, breathing in, breathing out, and I rock slowly side to side. I breathe. I feel my body. I feel my breath in my chest, in my belly. I remind myself that I'm alive, that this body I'm in is beautiful and precious and deserves to be felt. Deserves to be acknowledged and cared for in all the ways I know how.
Five minutes...it goes a long way.
What will you make time for tonight?//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
Papa Murphy's in on the menu tonight -- Cowboy Pizza -- because it's "Clean the House" night at our house. Nice to know our oven's doing the cooking while we're doing the rest of the hard work around here. We're entertaining three times in the next five days so it's now or never.
To be clear, I'm not one of those frantic, must-make-the-house-look-perfect-for-company folks. It's just that sometimes it's more obvious than others when it needs to be done.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Blogger Brain + Beginner's Mind
Blogging daily for the past month or so has been a really good time. Creating something new everyday. New ways of thinking about things. Learning more than I can even believe. I can barely keep up most days -- the ideas just keep coming fast and furious. If only you could see my dining room table, it's covered with post-its of all colors and sizes, scribbled with different topics, ideas, quotes, websites to research...you name it, it's showing up and it's all I can do to get it down on...
...what? Yeah, I could take a picture of the table and show them. What a good idea! Why didn't I think of that?? (Because I'd have to get up off the couch, that's why!) I'll be sure to write it on a post-it and save the idea for another day. What color, what color...
So now you get what I mean. Sharp, witty, amazing (!) ideas popping up at every moment...I can hardly keep a single train of thought. Which is really not that big of a deal -- I am an expert multi-tasker after all -- but when it's time to slow down, time to relax and to reconnect, when it's time to meditate, I feel like a gerbil on speed.
Not that I'd know what that feels like...
The second I wake up in the morning, the ideas start coming. I sit down to meditate and before I know it, my fifteen minutes have absolutely flown by. Great, right? Except I wasn't present for more than three or four of them. My mind is flitting off to every which place, crafting the best sentence, coming up with the catchiest title. Sure, I realize I'm off in neverneverland now and again and direct my attention back to the breath, but in a second my awareness scurries off somewhere else. Sometimes, just sometimes, if the sentence I'm wordsmithing is particularly compelling, I don't even try to refocus. I'm having too much fun!
Fun, yes. There's a huge argument for fun. Fun is a big part of what this blog is all about. But after the fact, I'm keenly aware that I'm not getting the job done. What good is meditation if there is no break from my thoughts? What good does it do if my mind is running rampant? Doesn't that put me back right where I started from?
Yes, and no. I'm not back where I started -- my mind isn't the same as it was a year ago. My relationship with it isn't the same as it was a year ago. But I do need to go back to the beginning.
What do we do when we think we've reached a particular destination or milestone, when we think we've got it all figured out, when we've become familiar with doing things a certain way and then things (*gasp*) change?
Acceptance is allowing me to let go of what I thought my meditation practice was before Blogger Brain came calling and to open to the possibility of what it might be now that I'm honoring and meeting my new and different needs. I'm still showing up morning and evening...that part sticks and is my priceless foundation. Now? I need to be patient. My mind is back to romping like the restless puppy it was when I began daily meditation -- but this time, it's a black lab instead of a boxer. The tools I need are those same ones that were useful the first time around. Same training, different dog. Instead of fighting my mind, instead of reprimanding it and growing tired of its meanderings, Beginner's Mind allows me to be the gentle, calmly assertive trainer who is well-versed in sharpening the mind's focus bit by bit to guide it back to the breath. To life in my body. To my experience of the moment. Whatever my experience of the moment may be.
Sure, a full fifteen minutes of connection would be fantastic -- but the three or four I'm getting are way better than nothing at all. Just show up, and let things unfold. Just like before.
Blogger Brain is pushing the edges of my comfort zone, as do all valuable creative journeys we take in our lives. What I know this time around is the importance of not getting stuck in my mind...I need a fully embodied experience, too. There's a different level of balance that I need, that I think we all need when our energy is being expended in new and challenging ways.
Meditation is still the most valuable tool in my toolbox to date. But I need to approach it from the place of the Beginner's Mind. If we all can find a way to start over with ourselves when new challenges show up in our lives, we can approach our day-to-day life from a more centered place...even if we encounter moments when we can't seem to finish a t.h.o.u.g...h......t...//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
We're heading to the hills of the North Shore tomorrow, so eating things up is high on the list of priorities. We didn't do much grocery shopping this week in anticipation of our adventure, so there wasn't much to do but Build Your Own Pizza...this time on the quickest and easiest crust -- flatbread!
There are a thousand kinds of flatbread available at any supermarket these days. I like to use the Indian flatbread, Naan, from Whole Foods. There are four pieces per package and I throw them in the freezer for nights like this. Just pull one out, top it up and throw it in the oven at 400 for 10-12 minutes. Quick, delicious and nutritious! Well, depending on what you top it with, I guess.
My creation is homemade pesto sauce that I keep sealed in the fridge for just such a purpose, lots of chopped up spinach, the squash I roasted this past weekend, fresh leeks from the garden and shredded mozz. So incredibly good!
The olive oil in the pesto makes for some crispy edges on the crust -- I love the crispy edges!
Sweets dreams, my friends! Next post will be -- if the technology gods are looking favorably upon me -- from the road. Happy travels!
...what? Yeah, I could take a picture of the table and show them. What a good idea! Why didn't I think of that?? (Because I'd have to get up off the couch, that's why!) I'll be sure to write it on a post-it and save the idea for another day. What color, what color...
So now you get what I mean. Sharp, witty, amazing (!) ideas popping up at every moment...I can hardly keep a single train of thought. Which is really not that big of a deal -- I am an expert multi-tasker after all -- but when it's time to slow down, time to relax and to reconnect, when it's time to meditate, I feel like a gerbil on speed.
Not that I'd know what that feels like...
The second I wake up in the morning, the ideas start coming. I sit down to meditate and before I know it, my fifteen minutes have absolutely flown by. Great, right? Except I wasn't present for more than three or four of them. My mind is flitting off to every which place, crafting the best sentence, coming up with the catchiest title. Sure, I realize I'm off in neverneverland now and again and direct my attention back to the breath, but in a second my awareness scurries off somewhere else. Sometimes, just sometimes, if the sentence I'm wordsmithing is particularly compelling, I don't even try to refocus. I'm having too much fun!
Fun, yes. There's a huge argument for fun. Fun is a big part of what this blog is all about. But after the fact, I'm keenly aware that I'm not getting the job done. What good is meditation if there is no break from my thoughts? What good does it do if my mind is running rampant? Doesn't that put me back right where I started from?
Yes, and no. I'm not back where I started -- my mind isn't the same as it was a year ago. My relationship with it isn't the same as it was a year ago. But I do need to go back to the beginning.
What do we do when we think we've reached a particular destination or milestone, when we think we've got it all figured out, when we've become familiar with doing things a certain way and then things (*gasp*) change?
Acceptance is allowing me to let go of what I thought my meditation practice was before Blogger Brain came calling and to open to the possibility of what it might be now that I'm honoring and meeting my new and different needs. I'm still showing up morning and evening...that part sticks and is my priceless foundation. Now? I need to be patient. My mind is back to romping like the restless puppy it was when I began daily meditation -- but this time, it's a black lab instead of a boxer. The tools I need are those same ones that were useful the first time around. Same training, different dog. Instead of fighting my mind, instead of reprimanding it and growing tired of its meanderings, Beginner's Mind allows me to be the gentle, calmly assertive trainer who is well-versed in sharpening the mind's focus bit by bit to guide it back to the breath. To life in my body. To my experience of the moment. Whatever my experience of the moment may be.
Sure, a full fifteen minutes of connection would be fantastic -- but the three or four I'm getting are way better than nothing at all. Just show up, and let things unfold. Just like before.
Blogger Brain is pushing the edges of my comfort zone, as do all valuable creative journeys we take in our lives. What I know this time around is the importance of not getting stuck in my mind...I need a fully embodied experience, too. There's a different level of balance that I need, that I think we all need when our energy is being expended in new and challenging ways.
Meditation is still the most valuable tool in my toolbox to date. But I need to approach it from the place of the Beginner's Mind. If we all can find a way to start over with ourselves when new challenges show up in our lives, we can approach our day-to-day life from a more centered place...even if we encounter moments when we can't seem to finish a t.h.o.u.g...h......t...//
What's For Dinner Tonight?
We're heading to the hills of the North Shore tomorrow, so eating things up is high on the list of priorities. We didn't do much grocery shopping this week in anticipation of our adventure, so there wasn't much to do but Build Your Own Pizza...this time on the quickest and easiest crust -- flatbread!
There are a thousand kinds of flatbread available at any supermarket these days. I like to use the Indian flatbread, Naan, from Whole Foods. There are four pieces per package and I throw them in the freezer for nights like this. Just pull one out, top it up and throw it in the oven at 400 for 10-12 minutes. Quick, delicious and nutritious! Well, depending on what you top it with, I guess.
Sweets dreams, my friends! Next post will be -- if the technology gods are looking favorably upon me -- from the road. Happy travels!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Weeks 39 & 40 and beyond - A Little Help
"We can do no great things, only small things with great love." ~Mother Theresa
One morning last week as Terry, Trooper and I were sitting next to the rain garden, I saw a small, pale green creature struggling to make its way across the grass by our feet. Upon closer examination, I noticed it was a freshly hatched cicada -- its wings weren't even fully unfurled, and seemed to be efforting greatly to find a place to rest. The blades of grass were unyielding until the cicada had climbed up to the very tip, at which point the blade would fold and extend to the next unyielding blades.
"Look how hard he's working," I remarked to Terry. "He looks like he's climbing mountains." I crouched down next to the cicada and extended a tiny stick, which he grasped immediately. The stick provided a bit of a bridge through the grass, aiding its way to where it finally reached its destination -- the leg of Terry's chair.
"You know, they've been doing this for hundreds, possibly thousands of years without our help," Terry said. "It'll be fine."
Indeed it would, and they have, and yet I couldn't help lending a hand -- or more accurately, a stick -- anyway.
In the month or so that has passed since my meditation project officially ended on July 5th, I've been contemplating what the experience has meant for me. Forty weeks of daily meditation. Has my life been transformed, as I had wondered when I began my journey nine months ago?
Perhaps not transformed, but certainly altered. "Transformed" seems so big a word, so full of expectation, so grandiose. Having used that word when I began these forty weeks, I realize I moved into this project with much more expectation than I had originally realized. Maybe it was more a hope I had than an expectation, but it put demands on the outcome just the same. I certainly felt the resistance of those unspoken expectations as I went along. It seems what I'm left with after nine months of daily meditation isn't earth-shattering by any means. And to my surprise, I'm finding this is more than OK. In fact, it's a relief.
I admit to having lived the better part of my forty years putting an extensive amount of pressure on myself for how I should live my life and what I should be when I grow up. Is what I'm doing with my life enough? Big enough, important enough? I'm not a mother or a veterinarian or a business owner or a published novelist or a teacher -- these all feel like appropriately Big Things and I've done none of them. Whatever I'm here to do with my life, shouldn't it be big? Shouldn't everything I do be above and beyond? What am I waiting for?
If my journey with meditation thus far has granted me anything, it is humility. And trust. Suddenly, where I am and who I am is enough. However I choose to live my life, whatever I am moved to do is perfect as it is. After years of feeling I needed to be more or do more, I'm relieved to trust that everything in my life is right on time. Being in the present moment and seeking to savor every little experience isn't necessarily easy, but it's satisfying. I'm content now knowing that a life well-lived doesn't have to be about doing or having everything grand -- small matters. Watching the hummingbirds and chickadees go about their daily tasks outside my window while I write on this endlessly sunny afternoon has me full to brimming. Embracing this moment, I trust that a life well-lived is about loving the life we live and living a life we love.
Assisting a cicada on its journey to someplace dry and stable enough to complete its metamorphosis is a small gesture. As is a pat on the back, a smile or a kind word to a friend in need or the man or woman on the street. It's an acknowledgement of our common source, of what is essential and real, when what is changeable and impermanent falls away. We're all here together as manifestations of this common source on this earthly journey doing the best we can. And sometimes we all could use a little help.
Perhaps meditation is the little stick that has aided me to a safe haven to continue my metamorphosis. It's another tool in my toolbox -- a way to center, to ground, to unwind and certainly to connect. I have come to love how it bookmarks my day as I continue to sit every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. Over the months, my practice has simply evolved into a morning and evening touch point, sitting for 15 minutes or more depending on how I feel and it works for me.
I imagine my practice will continue to grow and change just as I will, little by little, bit by bit, depending on what's required in the moment. It is what it is, as am I, and it appears to be just the help I need.//
One morning last week as Terry, Trooper and I were sitting next to the rain garden, I saw a small, pale green creature struggling to make its way across the grass by our feet. Upon closer examination, I noticed it was a freshly hatched cicada -- its wings weren't even fully unfurled, and seemed to be efforting greatly to find a place to rest. The blades of grass were unyielding until the cicada had climbed up to the very tip, at which point the blade would fold and extend to the next unyielding blades.
"Look how hard he's working," I remarked to Terry. "He looks like he's climbing mountains." I crouched down next to the cicada and extended a tiny stick, which he grasped immediately. The stick provided a bit of a bridge through the grass, aiding its way to where it finally reached its destination -- the leg of Terry's chair.
"You know, they've been doing this for hundreds, possibly thousands of years without our help," Terry said. "It'll be fine."
Indeed it would, and they have, and yet I couldn't help lending a hand -- or more accurately, a stick -- anyway.
In the month or so that has passed since my meditation project officially ended on July 5th, I've been contemplating what the experience has meant for me. Forty weeks of daily meditation. Has my life been transformed, as I had wondered when I began my journey nine months ago?
Perhaps not transformed, but certainly altered. "Transformed" seems so big a word, so full of expectation, so grandiose. Having used that word when I began these forty weeks, I realize I moved into this project with much more expectation than I had originally realized. Maybe it was more a hope I had than an expectation, but it put demands on the outcome just the same. I certainly felt the resistance of those unspoken expectations as I went along. It seems what I'm left with after nine months of daily meditation isn't earth-shattering by any means. And to my surprise, I'm finding this is more than OK. In fact, it's a relief.
I admit to having lived the better part of my forty years putting an extensive amount of pressure on myself for how I should live my life and what I should be when I grow up. Is what I'm doing with my life enough? Big enough, important enough? I'm not a mother or a veterinarian or a business owner or a published novelist or a teacher -- these all feel like appropriately Big Things and I've done none of them. Whatever I'm here to do with my life, shouldn't it be big? Shouldn't everything I do be above and beyond? What am I waiting for?
If my journey with meditation thus far has granted me anything, it is humility. And trust. Suddenly, where I am and who I am is enough. However I choose to live my life, whatever I am moved to do is perfect as it is. After years of feeling I needed to be more or do more, I'm relieved to trust that everything in my life is right on time. Being in the present moment and seeking to savor every little experience isn't necessarily easy, but it's satisfying. I'm content now knowing that a life well-lived doesn't have to be about doing or having everything grand -- small matters. Watching the hummingbirds and chickadees go about their daily tasks outside my window while I write on this endlessly sunny afternoon has me full to brimming. Embracing this moment, I trust that a life well-lived is about loving the life we live and living a life we love.
Assisting a cicada on its journey to someplace dry and stable enough to complete its metamorphosis is a small gesture. As is a pat on the back, a smile or a kind word to a friend in need or the man or woman on the street. It's an acknowledgement of our common source, of what is essential and real, when what is changeable and impermanent falls away. We're all here together as manifestations of this common source on this earthly journey doing the best we can. And sometimes we all could use a little help.
Perhaps meditation is the little stick that has aided me to a safe haven to continue my metamorphosis. It's another tool in my toolbox -- a way to center, to ground, to unwind and certainly to connect. I have come to love how it bookmarks my day as I continue to sit every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. Over the months, my practice has simply evolved into a morning and evening touch point, sitting for 15 minutes or more depending on how I feel and it works for me.
I imagine my practice will continue to grow and change just as I will, little by little, bit by bit, depending on what's required in the moment. It is what it is, as am I, and it appears to be just the help I need.//
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Weeks 32 & 33 - Honoring Auntihood
This past weekend, I took on the awesome task of caring for my nephew and two nieces, ages 6, 4 and 2, while my brother and sister-in-law took a small trip for their 10th anniversary. Awesome because the kids are amazing and I'm most fortunate to be a part of their lives. And also awesome because in all of my 40 years, I have never truly appreciated the amount of constant attention and energy and selfless giving that is required in the thoughtful rearing of children...until now.
Let me say, and I hope this will in no way sound trite: Motherhood is, by far, the most important and essential role on Earth. And, it is not for me.
Instead, perhaps for the first time since we found out we couldn't have kids seven years ago, I find I am endlessly grateful (and relieved) to play Her second most important supporting role (second to Daddyhood, of course): that of Auntie.
I left my brother's house last night in a stupored awe of the toll that a mere weekend of caregiving took on me. I felt as though the kids ate constantly and I hardly ate at all. I never showered because, dear god, what would happen if someone needed me while I stole a moment to take care of a need of my own? I peed when they peed...and seemingly only when they peed. I watched the clock constantly to be sure everyone was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there and was never more aware of every second of every day -- especially, how long it would take to get, not from point A to point B, but just packed in the van before commencing from point A to point B. It was exhausting on every level: physically, mentally and emotionally. Did I do the right thing when my two year old niece had a nuclear meltdown at t-ball when her bandaid fell off and I didn't have another one in my purse to replace it? Did I scar anyone for life when we were all spent and impatient and tensions ran high (all ten minutes of it)? Would they ever forgive me for not being their mommy when they woke up wanting her and I was only me instead?
Don't get me wrong -- we had a fantastic weekend. They were, for the most part, fabulous, as I can only hope they could say about me (if kids said such things...). Nothing went terribly wrong, no one killed anyone, no one lost a limb. We laughed, we played, we created, we got lots of fresh air. We had adventures. And at the end of each day, everyone (other than me, as it seems to go with mothers) was comfortably fed and clean, present and accounted for.
And yet, when I heard the garage door open at precisely 11:18pm last night, when I was formally off-duty, I nearly cried. And not because I was sorry it was over...
I was never happier than I was last night to be home, to have a quiet, solitary meal at midnight by the dim light of the microwave, to take a long, hot shower and to sleep like the dead in my own room with no worry that someone would cry out and need me in the middle of the night. Even going to work this morning, I have never been more grateful to be smack dab in the middle of my very own life.
I don't say any of this asking for sympathy, nor to be dramatic. Actual mothers get exclusive rights to this kind of storytelling. This was two days, not six years. No mother would ever be shocked or amazed at my tale of hyper-alertness, drained energy and self-sacrifice. I write this merely to share my sheer disbelief of the all-consuming nature of child-rearing. And I fully and humbly trust that I don't even know -- nor do I want to know -- the half of it.
My friends who are mothers have been telling me for years (and even twice today) how much easier it is when it's your own child. Thank you all for giving me an easy out. It may be true but I have to say, I'm not buying it. It feels like these kids couldn't be more mine if I had carried them myself -- I love them with a fierce passion I have never experienced and I am constantly blown away by the magnitude of it. Of all the kids I've been fortunate enough to share bits and pieces of my life with, I have never known a love like this before. I believe it is this kind of maternal (and paternal) love that enables us to want to throw ourselves in front of a barreling-down locomotive to save them at the same time that we want to sell them off to the neighbors and never see them again. It is the kind of love that keeps them safe and alive and well in our care throughout their childhood and beyond.
And maybe this is the true gift of auntihood -- being able to love like this while simultaneously conserving our own energy to jump in and offer the break when required, to play that supporting role. To be able to step in and love these kids and care for them as if they are our own, to keep them safe and turn them over to their parents at the end of the day. To be another adult who can witness them and offer them a fresh, non-entrenched perspective -- offering them different liberties and freedoms because we have the energy and desire to allow it.
I found my role as "mom" this weekend much more cumbersome than I ever have with my role as auntie. As auntie, the kids can bury themselves in the sand and stomp through puddles or make malts for dessert or read an extra five books at bedtime or otherwise push the edges of what is generally allowed because auntie doesn't mind the inconvenience of giving another bath or additional clean up in the kitchen or the like. But as "mom" this weekend, I found myself becoming more controlling and much more concerned with bedtimes and bathtimes and other fine details because my peace-of-mind, and the running of the well-oiled machine I was entrusted with, was at stake...there was little room, on any level, for extra work.
In the beginning of my forty week meditation adventure, I wrote about the desire to become a better mother to myself in the absence of physically being a mother to anyone else. I wondered if that was my calling -- to learn to better care for myself. Regardless of the what or the how, my intent for this project has been to become more authentic and more true to myself by listening more fully within and accepting myself more. And above all, become more willing to and adept at trusting my heart.
Somehow, this past weekend has given me this gift. Or perhaps this gift has been offered many times over and now, through my meditations, I find myself suddenly open and able to receive it. For the better part of my 30's I was either feverishly preparing for the possibility of a motherhood I couldn't quite reconcile wanting or lamenting the fact that the choice of whether or not to have my own children was taken away. Over the years I have made my peace the best way I know how and yet have never quite let myself off the hook -- still somehow expecting I should either be a mother (through adoption or insemination or being like one to my brother's kids) or I at least should desperately want it anyway. Which I don't -- at least not very often. The world has enough mothers than to make one of me. And god knows the kids already have the best mother they could ever hope for in my sister-in-law.
The truth is, I've known since I began babysitting as an 11-year-old that I was not cut out whatsoever for taking care of children. Somewhere inside of me, hindsight being 20/20, I've always known that it wasn't for me. But I've never trusted this knowing -- I never knew how to reconcile it. I kept trying to force myself into a role that was never mine to take on. I continued to babysit, I nannied for a family when I was in college...I was a girl, after all. This nurturing and patience stuff was just supposed to come naturally. Wasn't it? This desire to give all and be all? Or is this just the bill-of-goods we're sold?
Just as we are all our own unique mix of personality traits and temperments that make us more attuned to some jobs more than others, I believe parenthood is the same. Not all women are meant to be mothers (nor are all men meant to be fathers). Not that we can't do it -- the world is full of reluctant or ambivalent parents who simply do the best with what they've got. The question, it seems for all of us before embarking on such an undertaking is, should we?
I can safely say now, in the spirit of self-acceptance and authenticity -- and even in being a better mother to myself -- in my case, the answer is no. Even toying with that answer in past years would drive me to desperate tears. What does it mean that I feel I shouldn't be a mother? What it means, I have finally realized, is that I'm that much better at, and much happier, being an auntie. The trouble I've had is that I never knew an acceptable alternative was available. I always thought there was only one job I could be qualified for and no matter how hard I tried, I never quite fit the bill.
What a relief to finally forgive myself for all those years of wishing I was something, and someone, I'm not, and to embrace what the divine order of the Universe must have already known -- that my unique mix of personality traits and temperments suits me best as an aunt. Who knew that my calling has been here all along?
So here is my nod to aunties everywhere who support and love their nieces and nephews as if they were your own. What a gift it is to accept, with humility and enthusiasm, the role we are meant to play...whatever that role may be. Thank you to all the aunties who have come before and for the many more who will surely come after.//
Let me say, and I hope this will in no way sound trite: Motherhood is, by far, the most important and essential role on Earth. And, it is not for me.
Instead, perhaps for the first time since we found out we couldn't have kids seven years ago, I find I am endlessly grateful (and relieved) to play Her second most important supporting role (second to Daddyhood, of course): that of Auntie.
I left my brother's house last night in a stupored awe of the toll that a mere weekend of caregiving took on me. I felt as though the kids ate constantly and I hardly ate at all. I never showered because, dear god, what would happen if someone needed me while I stole a moment to take care of a need of my own? I peed when they peed...and seemingly only when they peed. I watched the clock constantly to be sure everyone was where they were supposed to be when they were supposed to be there and was never more aware of every second of every day -- especially, how long it would take to get, not from point A to point B, but just packed in the van before commencing from point A to point B. It was exhausting on every level: physically, mentally and emotionally. Did I do the right thing when my two year old niece had a nuclear meltdown at t-ball when her bandaid fell off and I didn't have another one in my purse to replace it? Did I scar anyone for life when we were all spent and impatient and tensions ran high (all ten minutes of it)? Would they ever forgive me for not being their mommy when they woke up wanting her and I was only me instead?
Don't get me wrong -- we had a fantastic weekend. They were, for the most part, fabulous, as I can only hope they could say about me (if kids said such things...). Nothing went terribly wrong, no one killed anyone, no one lost a limb. We laughed, we played, we created, we got lots of fresh air. We had adventures. And at the end of each day, everyone (other than me, as it seems to go with mothers) was comfortably fed and clean, present and accounted for.
And yet, when I heard the garage door open at precisely 11:18pm last night, when I was formally off-duty, I nearly cried. And not because I was sorry it was over...
I was never happier than I was last night to be home, to have a quiet, solitary meal at midnight by the dim light of the microwave, to take a long, hot shower and to sleep like the dead in my own room with no worry that someone would cry out and need me in the middle of the night. Even going to work this morning, I have never been more grateful to be smack dab in the middle of my very own life.
I don't say any of this asking for sympathy, nor to be dramatic. Actual mothers get exclusive rights to this kind of storytelling. This was two days, not six years. No mother would ever be shocked or amazed at my tale of hyper-alertness, drained energy and self-sacrifice. I write this merely to share my sheer disbelief of the all-consuming nature of child-rearing. And I fully and humbly trust that I don't even know -- nor do I want to know -- the half of it.
My friends who are mothers have been telling me for years (and even twice today) how much easier it is when it's your own child. Thank you all for giving me an easy out. It may be true but I have to say, I'm not buying it. It feels like these kids couldn't be more mine if I had carried them myself -- I love them with a fierce passion I have never experienced and I am constantly blown away by the magnitude of it. Of all the kids I've been fortunate enough to share bits and pieces of my life with, I have never known a love like this before. I believe it is this kind of maternal (and paternal) love that enables us to want to throw ourselves in front of a barreling-down locomotive to save them at the same time that we want to sell them off to the neighbors and never see them again. It is the kind of love that keeps them safe and alive and well in our care throughout their childhood and beyond.
And maybe this is the true gift of auntihood -- being able to love like this while simultaneously conserving our own energy to jump in and offer the break when required, to play that supporting role. To be able to step in and love these kids and care for them as if they are our own, to keep them safe and turn them over to their parents at the end of the day. To be another adult who can witness them and offer them a fresh, non-entrenched perspective -- offering them different liberties and freedoms because we have the energy and desire to allow it.
I found my role as "mom" this weekend much more cumbersome than I ever have with my role as auntie. As auntie, the kids can bury themselves in the sand and stomp through puddles or make malts for dessert or read an extra five books at bedtime or otherwise push the edges of what is generally allowed because auntie doesn't mind the inconvenience of giving another bath or additional clean up in the kitchen or the like. But as "mom" this weekend, I found myself becoming more controlling and much more concerned with bedtimes and bathtimes and other fine details because my peace-of-mind, and the running of the well-oiled machine I was entrusted with, was at stake...there was little room, on any level, for extra work.
In the beginning of my forty week meditation adventure, I wrote about the desire to become a better mother to myself in the absence of physically being a mother to anyone else. I wondered if that was my calling -- to learn to better care for myself. Regardless of the what or the how, my intent for this project has been to become more authentic and more true to myself by listening more fully within and accepting myself more. And above all, become more willing to and adept at trusting my heart.
Somehow, this past weekend has given me this gift. Or perhaps this gift has been offered many times over and now, through my meditations, I find myself suddenly open and able to receive it. For the better part of my 30's I was either feverishly preparing for the possibility of a motherhood I couldn't quite reconcile wanting or lamenting the fact that the choice of whether or not to have my own children was taken away. Over the years I have made my peace the best way I know how and yet have never quite let myself off the hook -- still somehow expecting I should either be a mother (through adoption or insemination or being like one to my brother's kids) or I at least should desperately want it anyway. Which I don't -- at least not very often. The world has enough mothers than to make one of me. And god knows the kids already have the best mother they could ever hope for in my sister-in-law.
The truth is, I've known since I began babysitting as an 11-year-old that I was not cut out whatsoever for taking care of children. Somewhere inside of me, hindsight being 20/20, I've always known that it wasn't for me. But I've never trusted this knowing -- I never knew how to reconcile it. I kept trying to force myself into a role that was never mine to take on. I continued to babysit, I nannied for a family when I was in college...I was a girl, after all. This nurturing and patience stuff was just supposed to come naturally. Wasn't it? This desire to give all and be all? Or is this just the bill-of-goods we're sold?
Just as we are all our own unique mix of personality traits and temperments that make us more attuned to some jobs more than others, I believe parenthood is the same. Not all women are meant to be mothers (nor are all men meant to be fathers). Not that we can't do it -- the world is full of reluctant or ambivalent parents who simply do the best with what they've got. The question, it seems for all of us before embarking on such an undertaking is, should we?
I can safely say now, in the spirit of self-acceptance and authenticity -- and even in being a better mother to myself -- in my case, the answer is no. Even toying with that answer in past years would drive me to desperate tears. What does it mean that I feel I shouldn't be a mother? What it means, I have finally realized, is that I'm that much better at, and much happier, being an auntie. The trouble I've had is that I never knew an acceptable alternative was available. I always thought there was only one job I could be qualified for and no matter how hard I tried, I never quite fit the bill.
What a relief to finally forgive myself for all those years of wishing I was something, and someone, I'm not, and to embrace what the divine order of the Universe must have already known -- that my unique mix of personality traits and temperments suits me best as an aunt. Who knew that my calling has been here all along?
So here is my nod to aunties everywhere who support and love their nieces and nephews as if they were your own. What a gift it is to accept, with humility and enthusiasm, the role we are meant to play...whatever that role may be. Thank you to all the aunties who have come before and for the many more who will surely come after.//
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Week 19 - Surrender, reprise
As I sit to write, another winter storm rolls in. The mild temperatures and melting snow of the past week or so, the patches of grass that were lusciously beginning to reveal themselves, are again a thing of the past. At least for now. Inevitably, the snow will indeed melt and the sun will reign supreme once again. But not nearly soon enough. I want it now.
I'd be lying if I said it didn't matter. It does and I'm antsy. The warmer, sunnier days helped, but Mother Nature is a tease. She tempts us and then when we put away our heaviest winter gear, whomps us again. I like lazy Sunday afternoons like the best of them. I especially like snow days. But not now. Not like this. Why is she doing this to me?!?
Boo hoo! Of course that's what I'd like to believe -- that this is personal. That on some level the Universe and Mother Nature have conspired to torture me. But the truth is, what happens, happens. What is, is. We are not victims, but simply here in this experience. It's winter in Minnesota -- what do I expect? It's up to us to respond to what is before us, not react to the perceived injustice of the situation because it doesn't match what we want it to be.
Outside the window, the squirrels and birds will not be deterred. The cardinals that began singing in earnest from the treetops a week ago in the warmth, continue. The squirrels never cease their pillaging of the feeders. The weather is the weather and they live their lives, doing what they do, being who they are, one song and one snack at a time. Why should we be any different?
I haven't written on time these past few weeks, frankly because the weather warmed up and I was out in the world more. Life called for me to be more active and I responded to the call, which left less time to sit and contemplate and write. Understandable and in being with what is. But I'm uncomfortable with that. I made a commitment to write every Tuesday and with the past few weeks being busier, I haven't held up my end of the bargain...even if no one notices but me. It feels like a slippery slope -- if I'm not writing now, if I'm willing to let part of the commitment go, will the whole project fall apart? Or am I just being dramatic because it fuels the desire to react rather than respond...to force rather than surrender?
More likely, I'm moving into another phase of the process. Life has been pretty mellow the past month or so and I've gotten used to it, gotten used to the routine. Then things begin to change...the weather became warmer, I became more comfortable stretching my wings and getting out in the world more. Like the pendulum ride I mentioned over the holidays, there is a time for activity and a time for solitude and contemplation. When we force one or the other we get antsy. When we're present, there is room for what is needed. And consequently, because we are in flow with what is called for, there is peace.
When we allow ourselves to surrender to what is, we aren't giving up...we are simply letting go of the need to fight, to control and to be right. It occurs to me that this, above all, may be the true reason I've undertaken this journey to invite meditation into my day-to-day: I've spent the better part of my life at war with myself either expecting circumstances to be different, or worse, myself. I'm happy to make the space to let that go...and to let acceptance and compassion and love take its place.
The tricky part is remembering all over again, how to surrender. Gratefully, this experience is yet another reminder.
Today, if I go with what is, is easy...a fire in the fireplace, a steaming cup of tea and a write of this blog. And so I respond accordingly. I'll save the song and the snack for later...//
I'd be lying if I said it didn't matter. It does and I'm antsy. The warmer, sunnier days helped, but Mother Nature is a tease. She tempts us and then when we put away our heaviest winter gear, whomps us again. I like lazy Sunday afternoons like the best of them. I especially like snow days. But not now. Not like this. Why is she doing this to me?!?
Boo hoo! Of course that's what I'd like to believe -- that this is personal. That on some level the Universe and Mother Nature have conspired to torture me. But the truth is, what happens, happens. What is, is. We are not victims, but simply here in this experience. It's winter in Minnesota -- what do I expect? It's up to us to respond to what is before us, not react to the perceived injustice of the situation because it doesn't match what we want it to be.
Outside the window, the squirrels and birds will not be deterred. The cardinals that began singing in earnest from the treetops a week ago in the warmth, continue. The squirrels never cease their pillaging of the feeders. The weather is the weather and they live their lives, doing what they do, being who they are, one song and one snack at a time. Why should we be any different?
I haven't written on time these past few weeks, frankly because the weather warmed up and I was out in the world more. Life called for me to be more active and I responded to the call, which left less time to sit and contemplate and write. Understandable and in being with what is. But I'm uncomfortable with that. I made a commitment to write every Tuesday and with the past few weeks being busier, I haven't held up my end of the bargain...even if no one notices but me. It feels like a slippery slope -- if I'm not writing now, if I'm willing to let part of the commitment go, will the whole project fall apart? Or am I just being dramatic because it fuels the desire to react rather than respond...to force rather than surrender?
More likely, I'm moving into another phase of the process. Life has been pretty mellow the past month or so and I've gotten used to it, gotten used to the routine. Then things begin to change...the weather became warmer, I became more comfortable stretching my wings and getting out in the world more. Like the pendulum ride I mentioned over the holidays, there is a time for activity and a time for solitude and contemplation. When we force one or the other we get antsy. When we're present, there is room for what is needed. And consequently, because we are in flow with what is called for, there is peace.
When we allow ourselves to surrender to what is, we aren't giving up...we are simply letting go of the need to fight, to control and to be right. It occurs to me that this, above all, may be the true reason I've undertaken this journey to invite meditation into my day-to-day: I've spent the better part of my life at war with myself either expecting circumstances to be different, or worse, myself. I'm happy to make the space to let that go...and to let acceptance and compassion and love take its place.
The tricky part is remembering all over again, how to surrender. Gratefully, this experience is yet another reminder.
Today, if I go with what is, is easy...a fire in the fireplace, a steaming cup of tea and a write of this blog. And so I respond accordingly. I'll save the song and the snack for later...//
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