It's the end of the week. Clocks don't really tick-tock anymore, but if they did, each tick and tock would bring you closer to the weekend. The future is near! Freedom! Hour after hour of not having to listen to The Man! or the Woman! I know that as much as I may enjoy my work, by Thursday I am so ready to spend every minute drinking in my daughter and all her new developments.
My challenge for myself tomorrow: Bring more into alignment the contrast between weekend and weekday. If my spiritual practices were taking hold, wouldn't it be harder to differentiate work from play? Wouldn't I be deeply drinking in every minute of my time with other people's children too? Wouldn't I feel the same sense of fulfillment on Thursday as I do on Saturday?
I'd like not to be counting the seconds! Help!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The Present Moment is Sleeping
I have come finally to this moment. I have rested, I have slid into warm water after 12 lifetimes of driving, lifting, holding myself erect, bringing myself to her level. I have nourished, I have dabbed myself with sweet mimosa because the only person I have to think about right now is me, and me wants to wear perfume. I have chosen a spot. I have turned around 3 times before nestling into the cozy bed of creativity. I have opened the taunting fresh page. I have generated at least 8 sentences and topics while going about my day this morning.
And I can't get past the rustling of my daughter in her sleep. She. might. wake. up. She WILL wake up. She will wake up and cry for mama just at the moment that I get moving, really rolling, when the waves in my sea of thought are crashing, she. will. wake. up.
The peaceful, resting sheet of calm that drove me to this cozy corner yielded to the old paralyses of fear - what if I run out of time? Why begin what I can't finish? Shouldn't I do laundry, something with a clear beginning and end, something that would have an outcome - clean clothes and space where the Jabba The Hut-like mound of dirty clothes has spilled its fat belly out of the closet and into my bedroom?
There sounds the discontented cry, a lost bink or a loud noise - I pause then type faster hoping to catch it all before the foghorn of the most important sound - my baby - blasts the non-mommy thoughts right out of my head, reels me back into the carousel of: clean diapers?What do I give her for lunch?Did she have enough dairy today?Vitamin?Babysitter's coming, what's the pediatrician's number? The carousel I love to ride, reaching for the brass ring of my daughter's rare and sweet kisses. And these rare minutes alone - maybe 60 of them, maybe 120 - a frenzy of thought and action, wearing myself down with the act of trying to nourish myself.
Anne Morrow Lindburgh, referring to Virginia Woolf's proclamation that all women need is a little money and a room of one's own, modernized the requirements. She offers that all women need now, because we've come so far, is time of one's own. A week out of the year, 20 minutes daily, however a woman can demagnetize the shavings of the world sticking to her. These women yearned to create, to share their messages about sculpting, moulding, babying our creativity, our Selves. They sent messages, personal and political, to their lineages of mothers and sisters and daughters, whose traditional duties are not the ones that feed their souls. The work of a mother and wife delight me, repay me in greater heights and depths of love and sweetness than any other work. That work does not feed me, me who wears mimosa blossoms and gazes out the bay window at the hideousness that is winter into spring, bare scrawny tree trunks with scraggly patches of evergreen like a thinning scalp. Me who sometimes looks at my hands on the wheel, and adores them. Me who remembers to lift my head up, to lok at the tops of buildings, to look at the open sky spanning out above the trees on the highway. This me who on most days has no right to live.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tell me a story
Tell me a story today about how unconditional love has touched your life, changed it, lit up a piece of you that had been in the dark... did you submit a daring "What I did this summer" essay only to have a teacher pull you aside and say, "That was terrific and daring!" Did your parents give your room to do whatever you wanted when you grew up, without a backup plan? In big and small ways, how has love without limits affected your life?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Do small things
STALL. I've been picking up this book, putting down this book, picking up that book, looking for something to catch my eye to share with you. The weather is so blindingly blissfully crisp that I can't even think about flat words on the page. The sky is blue! The air is clear! The wind is fresh and delicious! It's so good I'm practically illiterate.
A silver touchstone caught my eye, a small medallion that belongs to my mom. It was sitting on the counter in a ziploc baggie, for whatever reason. It says, "Do small things with great love. -MT" In this incredibly busy time when I feel I have very little emotional resource for my family, never mind myself, I have been searching for some kind of big time contribution to my spiritual life. Listen, we are maxed out on time and there are some non-negotiables, like exercise and food that have to be fit in to the madness. There is no spiritual hour I can eek out of each day. There is no half hour of morning meditation unless I want to see the wrong side of 5am - which I do not. No amount of meditation will make me a peaceful person at that level of sleep deprived.
The universe will always provide the experience you need to evolve - even in the small things you see when you get out of your head and into the present moment. DO SMALL THINGS WITH GREAT LOVE. Of course. Meditation in movement. Meditation in dishwashing, car locking, wallet coming out of the purse. Presence with the person behind the counter, with the day care providers, with my husband. Presence and love to my daughter in the frenzied act of trying to get through a grocery store with her.
Says the universe, get your head out of the sand!
A silver touchstone caught my eye, a small medallion that belongs to my mom. It was sitting on the counter in a ziploc baggie, for whatever reason. It says, "Do small things with great love. -MT" In this incredibly busy time when I feel I have very little emotional resource for my family, never mind myself, I have been searching for some kind of big time contribution to my spiritual life. Listen, we are maxed out on time and there are some non-negotiables, like exercise and food that have to be fit in to the madness. There is no spiritual hour I can eek out of each day. There is no half hour of morning meditation unless I want to see the wrong side of 5am - which I do not. No amount of meditation will make me a peaceful person at that level of sleep deprived.
The universe will always provide the experience you need to evolve - even in the small things you see when you get out of your head and into the present moment. DO SMALL THINGS WITH GREAT LOVE. Of course. Meditation in movement. Meditation in dishwashing, car locking, wallet coming out of the purse. Presence with the person behind the counter, with the day care providers, with my husband. Presence and love to my daughter in the frenzied act of trying to get through a grocery store with her.
Says the universe, get your head out of the sand!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Summer's Day
"Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
from New and Selected Poems, 1992
Beacon Press, Boston, MA
Beacon Press, Boston, MA
Copyright 1992 by Mary Oliver.
Just some food for Monday thought - a day we mourn the end of the weekend, dread our Monday obligations... "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Easy Street
These are the easy days, right? Sun is finally shining, you walked out of the house without that extra puffy coat on this morning, you didn't have to bundle the baby, you took a walk outside, you didn't have to heat up your car in the morning. It's easy to look upward or inward and feel gratitude with each breath of fresh almost-spring air. It's easy to remind myself that life is good with the windows open and my favorite tunes cranking.
What a change! Just last week I could.not.bear.one.more.day.of.winter. Nothing's changed except I now have a book on tape to enrich the looong hours of driving. Same house, same family, same job, car, circumstances, empty bank account. Something about the beauty of the weather day lifted the dark funk that settled over me during the winter.
Why does the weather alone have that effect, and how can I bottle that up for the rest of the year? How do you put a "spring" in your step even while being housebound for weeks? Do you think the great spiritual leaders had the same fluctuations in their deep joy of living based on things like weather? I know it's small talk, "How 'bout this weather we're having?" It's small talk because it's that important to us!
I do know that it makes breathing and coming into alignment with my breath more automatic - except when I'm next to my daughter's stinky feet after a day at school. ICK.
What a change! Just last week I could.not.bear.one.more.day.of.winter. Nothing's changed except I now have a book on tape to enrich the looong hours of driving. Same house, same family, same job, car, circumstances, empty bank account. Something about the beauty of the weather day lifted the dark funk that settled over me during the winter.
Why does the weather alone have that effect, and how can I bottle that up for the rest of the year? How do you put a "spring" in your step even while being housebound for weeks? Do you think the great spiritual leaders had the same fluctuations in their deep joy of living based on things like weather? I know it's small talk, "How 'bout this weather we're having?" It's small talk because it's that important to us!
I do know that it makes breathing and coming into alignment with my breath more automatic - except when I'm next to my daughter's stinky feet after a day at school. ICK.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Be JJ?
In The Happiness Project, the author's first "Personal Commandment" for herself is to "Be Gretchen". Initially, I didn't relate to that. I get it, be authentic and you'll be happier, but of course I "am" JJ, right?
Oh, the "am". The great, "I am". My belief is that I "am" only the river of life that flows through me and all the rest of us and all living things, the energy that animates the form I'm in right now. The big "I AM". We call it "god," "consciousness," "holy spirit," "grace," "buddha nature," "life," "energy"... those words all point to the unnamable river.
Gretchen is referring to the little "I am," the form, the story, the memories that compile our book, beginning to end. The little "I am" that is SO BIG for us that we will do anything to defend against threats to it. Loss of a job - devastating! Yes, because it threatens survival, but the emotional devastation? It threatens our little me. Unemployed? That doesn't fit with my identity. I was a teacher/broker/driver/dancer... Getting tailgated? Of COURSE they drive a BMW, how entitled they are, who do they think they ARE? We sort and analyze and categorize US and THEM to avoid threatening what we think we know about our"selves".
How I can "Be JJ" to get happier, while at the same time recognize that "JJ" isn't who I am in the big "I AM" sense? If I truly believe that the big "I AM" matters, how can it be that the life of the little"I am" makes me unhappy sometimes? Why should it matter that I change my circumstances in a way that is more authentic in order to influence my happiness? The only answers I can think of are that a) I am still more heavily identified with my little "me" than I think I am, and b) my outer actions aren't aligned with my inner purpose somehow.
Anecdotally, I can say that finding ways to use my time in the car (I drive between 3-6 hours a day) by listening to podcasts and audiobooks was a great "Be JJ" way to increase my happiness - it removed sources of boredom and enriches and stimulates my mind. For what it's worth, little me is a little happier.
Oh, the "am". The great, "I am". My belief is that I "am" only the river of life that flows through me and all the rest of us and all living things, the energy that animates the form I'm in right now. The big "I AM". We call it "god," "consciousness," "holy spirit," "grace," "buddha nature," "life," "energy"... those words all point to the unnamable river.
Gretchen is referring to the little "I am," the form, the story, the memories that compile our book, beginning to end. The little "I am" that is SO BIG for us that we will do anything to defend against threats to it. Loss of a job - devastating! Yes, because it threatens survival, but the emotional devastation? It threatens our little me. Unemployed? That doesn't fit with my identity. I was a teacher/broker/driver/dancer... Getting tailgated? Of COURSE they drive a BMW, how entitled they are, who do they think they ARE? We sort and analyze and categorize US and THEM to avoid threatening what we think we know about our"selves".
How I can "Be JJ" to get happier, while at the same time recognize that "JJ" isn't who I am in the big "I AM" sense? If I truly believe that the big "I AM" matters, how can it be that the life of the little"I am" makes me unhappy sometimes? Why should it matter that I change my circumstances in a way that is more authentic in order to influence my happiness? The only answers I can think of are that a) I am still more heavily identified with my little "me" than I think I am, and b) my outer actions aren't aligned with my inner purpose somehow.
Anecdotally, I can say that finding ways to use my time in the car (I drive between 3-6 hours a day) by listening to podcasts and audiobooks was a great "Be JJ" way to increase my happiness - it removed sources of boredom and enriches and stimulates my mind. For what it's worth, little me is a little happier.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Breathe Me
"Breathing in, I calm my body
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment
I know this is a wonderful moment"
-Being Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh
My toddler is old enough to start practicing with me some of the teeniest little breaths inserted into the space between her very active activities! Her mind is so open, her eyes so wide, so observant. She picks up my phone and knows how to hold it, using her little thumbs like a stockbroker in the throes of a deal. She holds it up to her ear and says "Hel-LO," walking and talking just like the busy adults around her. She pointed out my eyebrows today. I have no idea where she learned what an eyebrow is. She sees everything. She hears everything.
I yelled at her for the first time. I thought she would stop dead in her tracks, I've never raised my voice to her. She didn't even flinch. She didn't even look at me! Feelings of dread and guilt washed over me - I never wanted to raise my voice to a toddler, who doesn't know better, who is there to be taught and who doesn't yet even know what disobedience is. I decided I had to cultivate other strategies to have at my fingertips, and immediately this beautiful, simply, childlike quotation arose. "Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment, I know this is a wonderful moment".
Early on, when she was tiny and I was experiencing post-partum depression, feeling overwhelmed and incompetent, when the simple act of changing a wriggly baby would reduce me to tears, I would repeat this quotation to myself and aloud to my daughter. I wanted to be a happy mommy to her, and give her experience with calming breaths. After a while, as I became a more fluent parent, I forgot about the quote.
I picked up Being Peace and I can't remember why, but there in Chapter 1 was that darling little quotation again. Like the spring breeze yesterday after the longest, snowiest, slushiest winter, that little quotation saved the day. When I feel my temper rising, breathing in and smiling out mentally and physiologically bring me back to my daughter, who is doing exactly what she should be doing - testing me. And now I feel like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing - staying calm, loving her deeply while she pushes my limits, and showing her another way.
Today in the midst of a "Get me out of this high chair now" screaming mimi fit, I said to her quietly, "Honey.. what do we do? Breathing in we calm our bodies..." She came to a screeching halt, looked me in the eye like she viscerally recognized those words, and the tantrum was over. Children know what adults have to rediscover.
A couple other things I've tried to bring to her: This morning, we also started family lovies as a Sunday spiritual practice. Although we no longer attend religious services on Sundays, I wanted to set aside some time for family spiritual practice. We held hands in a circle and each looked at the other and said, "I love you". At night, in lieu of lullabies (she has finally caught on to my terrible voice and begs, "No, no no no mama no!" when I start to sing to her), we have started doing "Send loves". "Send love to Grammy, send love to Nana..." Something I am looking forward to creating is a breathing corner.. a kind of spiritual replacement for Time Out - a place where all family members can go in the heat of the moment to breath, meditate, be in a calming space and come back to themselves.
If you have a spiritual practice, how do you bring it into your family life?
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment
I know this is a wonderful moment"
-Being Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh
My toddler is old enough to start practicing with me some of the teeniest little breaths inserted into the space between her very active activities! Her mind is so open, her eyes so wide, so observant. She picks up my phone and knows how to hold it, using her little thumbs like a stockbroker in the throes of a deal. She holds it up to her ear and says "Hel-LO," walking and talking just like the busy adults around her. She pointed out my eyebrows today. I have no idea where she learned what an eyebrow is. She sees everything. She hears everything.
I yelled at her for the first time. I thought she would stop dead in her tracks, I've never raised my voice to her. She didn't even flinch. She didn't even look at me! Feelings of dread and guilt washed over me - I never wanted to raise my voice to a toddler, who doesn't know better, who is there to be taught and who doesn't yet even know what disobedience is. I decided I had to cultivate other strategies to have at my fingertips, and immediately this beautiful, simply, childlike quotation arose. "Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment, I know this is a wonderful moment".
Early on, when she was tiny and I was experiencing post-partum depression, feeling overwhelmed and incompetent, when the simple act of changing a wriggly baby would reduce me to tears, I would repeat this quotation to myself and aloud to my daughter. I wanted to be a happy mommy to her, and give her experience with calming breaths. After a while, as I became a more fluent parent, I forgot about the quote.
I picked up Being Peace and I can't remember why, but there in Chapter 1 was that darling little quotation again. Like the spring breeze yesterday after the longest, snowiest, slushiest winter, that little quotation saved the day. When I feel my temper rising, breathing in and smiling out mentally and physiologically bring me back to my daughter, who is doing exactly what she should be doing - testing me. And now I feel like I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing - staying calm, loving her deeply while she pushes my limits, and showing her another way.
Today in the midst of a "Get me out of this high chair now" screaming mimi fit, I said to her quietly, "Honey.. what do we do? Breathing in we calm our bodies..." She came to a screeching halt, looked me in the eye like she viscerally recognized those words, and the tantrum was over. Children know what adults have to rediscover.
A couple other things I've tried to bring to her: This morning, we also started family lovies as a Sunday spiritual practice. Although we no longer attend religious services on Sundays, I wanted to set aside some time for family spiritual practice. We held hands in a circle and each looked at the other and said, "I love you". At night, in lieu of lullabies (she has finally caught on to my terrible voice and begs, "No, no no no mama no!" when I start to sing to her), we have started doing "Send loves". "Send love to Grammy, send love to Nana..." Something I am looking forward to creating is a breathing corner.. a kind of spiritual replacement for Time Out - a place where all family members can go in the heat of the moment to breath, meditate, be in a calming space and come back to themselves.
If you have a spiritual practice, how do you bring it into your family life?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
All we have to do...
Thank you to my classmate who introduced me to The National who introduced me to this beautiful sentiment: "All we gotta do is be brave, and be kind". I don't think there is any other sentiment that boils it down so succicently (how do you spell that? Spell check wants it to be succulently - which is also appropriate). In many hard ethical and moral dilemmas I've been in, that's what the decision comes to. Handling a parent who is ripping me a new one? Be kind. Handling the same parent for the 5th time? Be brave enough to stand up for myself... and be kind enough to hear the fear in their voice.
An unlikely source of the guiding wisdom of a lifetime.. what have you gotten from pop culture or pop songs that you go back to over and over to shine light in a difficult time or decision?
An unlikely source of the guiding wisdom of a lifetime.. what have you gotten from pop culture or pop songs that you go back to over and over to shine light in a difficult time or decision?
Monday, March 7, 2011
Goodbye, Facebook
If you haven't picked up The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, grab it! It's a lovely little pragmatic year's journey into happiness by someone who was mostly happy... but not happy enough given all the blessings in her life. Reading it made me nearly suffocate with all her tiny resolutions, and how they must have added up to one huge project that would have made me well, miserable... but I took away one big message: Don't waste my time on things that bring mediocre happiness. So, I deactivated my Facebook account. Maybe I'm going to be socially disconnected. Maybe I'm going to miss knowing every time a "friend" gets a job, loses a job, has a bad day, has a good day, goes down a steep escalator, sees a funny sign, posts a picture of their child (OK, I will really miss the pics of my friends babies)... Since I don't know what I don't know, I think we'll all survive without my virtual presence.
Which brings me to... back to... the blog. Back to the pursuit of meaning, spirituality, connectedness in all things living... in this tiny microcosm I dwell in. Hi blog, I missed you.
xoxo
Which brings me to... back to... the blog. Back to the pursuit of meaning, spirituality, connectedness in all things living... in this tiny microcosm I dwell in. Hi blog, I missed you.
xoxo
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