THE URGE TO PURGE AND OTHER PRIMAL RHYTHMS

There is a rhythm to the holidays that is deeper than tradition.
No matter how I try to resist some of them, they are not to be ignored and they will be expressed.  Even without modern advertising and communication and consumer frenzy, these impulses would be with us, in us.

There is the darkness theme.  The need to pull in, quiet down and to gather. This is the time for hope over fear--for reflection of "better" to come.
It is time to eat together-- the more the better, the fatter the better, the more indulgent the better.  It is a pre-hibernation feast.

There is the urgency and drive of building to one moment of celebration.
By Christmas, decorations have to be up, gifts ready and food cooked.
There is a pinnacle of expectation, followed by a purge.  You can see this tracked with specificity  in home magazines.

And there is an urge to give, to delight, to please, to tease, to have a feeling of abundance, enough to share.  The size or value does not matter one bit if the gift shows you are seen and matter and someone wants to make you happy.
I asked my crew, "Would you rather give or receive the exact right gift?"
Giving won, but the best it was decided when all are giving and receiving at the same time.

At one point, my daughter-in-law and I laughed and said, "Why are we doing all this?  We could all just agree to take it easy for the same amount of time as we take preparing."   We do it for all of it.  The planning, the laying in of stores, the huddling against the dark and cold, the giving and loving, and the rest and relief of a purge, of having a big celebration over.  And we do it for the hope of something holy.

These are deep human needs that won't be managed away.

SWITCH FROM HOLIDAY SCREED TO A HOLIDAY CREED

I can get pretty darned holiday hyper.
Right now I think the world is going to end because I can't find the James
Beard cookbook with my every Christmas Eve chicken chili recipe in it.
It is the first cookbook I bought.
I had it tucked on a high kitchen shelf for years. Scared it would get lost or
destroyed in a house with five kids.  Now kids are gone.  And so is the book.
Gone. James Beard is gone. 
Christmas is ruined!

Can't find one of the pieces of a felt advent calendar we've hung for 42 years.
Christmas is ruined!

Put the tree up too early.  Looks a little petrified.
Christmas is ruined.

The local picturesque main street is looking head shop sloppy.
Christmas is ruined.

I have to wrap, cook, make a special meaningful present, find all the lost things, write cards, put up the Charlie Brown tree on the front porch, call far away friends.  Two days to go.  Christmas is ruined.

It's commercial, it's exhausting, it's over stimulating.  Christmas is ruined.

That's my screed.  Here's my creed that saves Christmas for me.  Really.  


***I will be with people who love me or who never will regardless.  So I'll  get over performance anxiety that Christmas can bring.
***I will know the difference between tradition and obligation.  One is satisfying
even if hard to do (like the darn chicken chili without the recipe!) and the other
is tough to do even if easy. 
***I will remember that once people get into the house with coats and gifts and food, that the house will be a mess anyway
***I will sit every three hours with coffee, tea or a glass of wine and just breathe and shift into a slower gear.  I'll find a hiding place to breathe. 
***I will participate at my own gathering and not be the host every minute
***I will do one thing less than I planned 
***I will get it through my head that Christmas can't be ruined.  Just enough tradition will carry it with a different tone and permutation each year
***I will remember that Christmas is both sacred and pagan. I won't insist on one or the other.  
***I will allow the built up rhythms of our particular Christmas history carry me as I step back to catch my breath from a year with lots of family deaths.
***I will enjoy watching as my adult kids step to the fore and do the  cooking and managing and coping. 

I'm in the mood for a very silent night.
Hush.
Don't ruin Christmas.

HAVE A LISTLESS, LISTLESS CHRISTMAS!

Listless--meaning without a list!!!
I have been wanting to write about my philosophy on "lists".
Of course I have one!

I write lists in order to not have lists.  To protect me from constant pop-up
tasks.
I so mean this.

List gnats are everywhere.
I have a bunch buzzing over my head right now.
'Measure back door to see if new fridge can get by it.
Yikes.  Send nephews gift cards.
Talk to designer about new business card.
Call daughter to see about trip for New Year's.
Write people who live away Christmas cards.
Email Sun Savings (yep-long time ago) friends a "thank you".'

I'm not going to do those today!!
I don't do never ending lists.
I am, however, addicted to constant brain dumps.
I put those list gnats down on paper in order to ignore them.
Consciously.

I do have goals for the day. Some are pedestrian and some quite grand.  They all move something forward that I care about. Friendship.  A home that functions.  Creative projects.   Basically I get them done and let the rest go to hell.
  
That, believe it or not, takes discipline.  I am not happy if I don't do my goals.
But I am very happy about all I DID NOT do.
It takes real effort to NOT get things done.

 I've done my goals for today:
  Read for an hour in bed with coffee
  Made dinner for my traveling daughter to leave at her house for late arrival.
  Prepared for two clients this week.
  Dug out Christmas decorations.
  Wrote blogs. Well, getting there.

Done,done, done, done, done.
For the day.
I'll check my brain dump tomorrow and see what I want to move forward.
The secret is to have days or hours that are listless.
A mind that can be listless.
That, and a good list gnat repellent.

Is this my neurosis on parade?
How do you get to listless?
How do you manage pesty list gnats?
Tell me I'm not alone in this!

INDIFFERENT OR CONTENT

I have been bothered by a state of indifference.
Usually I over care about absolutely everything.
I may have gone numb from a year of drama.
New life, many deaths and big events and health threats
Here I sit
Nothing to be done about any of it
Christmas music plays 
My grand daughter draws quietly in California cold
Imperfect weather
Lots goes wrong right now
And still.   
There is peace in succumbing to what is
A moment of contentment
Not indifference

THE EVAPORATOR--MY HOLIDAY GIFT TO YOU!

Yep, I had a perfectly lovely food filled, love filled, game filled, family filled Thanksgiving.  I offer this is a disclaimer for what follows.

THE EVAPORATOR was created during a stress filled travel moment in an
airport.  It's great for any over peopled place so
 the airport environment was the right condition for its inception.

OK.  Here's the deal.  For THE EVAPORATOR to work, you need at least two people.  Somehow using it by yourself doesn't have the same positive impact.

Here's how it works.  For any given situation you can choose to evaporate ten people.  They don't get killed.  They don't get hurt.  They get "evaporated".
You evaporate them by pointing your finger at the person you want to "get" and nod your head.  Both players have to decide on the same person.  "Boom", they are gone. 

Such a relief.  That gum smacker?  Gone.  Loud cell phone talker?  Gone.
Big headed person who sits in front of you at the movies when the place is empty?  Gone.  Snobby cousin complaining at Christmas about gluten in your home baked traditional cookies?  Gone.  

Great to play at home or work.  Last minute boss requesting documents for
a Board Meeting?  Gone.  Disappearing admin?  Gone.   Crazy customer who causes a ruckus because you touched his credit card to help out?  Gone.

Gone.  Gone.  Gone.
Try it.  So satisfying.  You'll be surprised at how much better you feel.
Just a nod of the head.  Boom.  It's the suppressed part of irritation that makes you nuts.  Get your evaporator partner ready as you head into the holidays.

AND/OR  (this could be fun) send in your favorite evaporates!
Ho Ho Ho---- so to speak.

THE POWER AND PAIN OF TRADITION

Tradition is "the passing of customs from generation to generation."
It's more than just quirks or personal tastes of holiday celebrations.
Tradition has to bridge generations.  It has to connect loved ones beyond time and geography.

I used to stand on the receiving end of holiday traditions.
I learned my mom's way of hanging tinsel on a Christmas tree--strand by strand.  Meticulous.  I learned our family tradition was to have multi-colored lights for the tree even when white lights became the trend. I knew which Thanksgiving recipes that came from my Grandmother.  The very sound of the Macy parade reminds me of the luxury of only waiting for dinner to be served while I reveled in the first TV in our house with black and white Santa coming to town. 

And now I am on the giving end of traditions, the old ones and new things I have added.  I know that my adult children will know exactly what we are having to eat at our house and will remember and even cook some of the same dishes no matter how far away they may be geographically.  Or when I am not here at all.

Thanksgiving traditions will comfort me this year when I have had so many family members die. My brother Ronnie, my sister-in-law Romie, My cousins Barney, Sally, and Greta.  And it will hurt like hell too. The generations of my family are shifting.

So the power and the pain of traditions will be with me this Thanksgiving.

I will make my mom's Cranberry ice.  It's been served at at least 75 years continuously for Thanksgiving. 
My daughter Megan will make Aunt Romies' creamed onions.  (Romie is my sister-in-law that died this year)
My daughter-in-law Augusta will make Aunt Romie's rolls.
I will make my brother's favorite candied sweet potatoes.
I will make mashed potatoes with only the very whitest potatoes.  My mom's rule.
I'll use canned pumpkin pie filling--have to.  It alone gives the right sense memory to me.

Of course we improvise.  We'll add kale salad.  We'll have many new side dishes.  But the "traditional" customs in the form of food  that pass through generations" have to be made.  

I was once interviewed as a woman executive and was asked all kinds of questions about my expertise and contributions.  It was a solid interview, not a puff piece.  The last question was, "What will you be remembered for as people look back at your life?"  I answered with, "my cranberry ice recipe"  I explained its importance feeling kind of silly.  The newspaper printed the recipe and made it central on the page.  Still makes me happy.

WHY IS AUTHENTIC SO COMPELLING?

  
I've been mulling it over this week.
I don't have an answer.
Feel free to give me yours.

It started when one of my daughters sent me a video to watch. (See GOODIE BAG)
It tells the story of a woman herbalist and occasional gypsy dweller.
Don't yawn yet.
My daughter has a lot of healer in her (and gypsy too) so I was glad to watch the video.  And, I love when my kids send me info on their enthusiasms.

The compelling part of the video is seeing a person be so utterly fully
completely who she is----over a whole life time.  I found it soothing.  It made me hopeful.  It made me braver to be truer myself.
For some of us, this is the work of a lifetime. This dear lady, Juliette, was who she was from start to finish.

It's not that being genuine is admirable necessarily.  I've had a spell of buffoonish mistakes in word and deed.  I'm chagrined but people have responded by telling me how much they enjoy how "real" I am!! 

Go figure.  So what's the chemistry of being genuine that  rubs off on other people whether the genuine is goony or grand?  What is it that responds in us?  
Can you strive to be authentic or would that ruin the effort?  There is relief in being around real deal people.  It gives something substantial and stable to connect to.  And there is a kind of celebration of the unique involved.

Anyway, this is one quirky lady and it led me to think about the daily step by step courage it takes to be true to yourself and your gift.  And the power in it for others.




----GOODIE BAG----
http://vimeo.com/18952969

WHERE THERE'S A WAY, THERE'S A WILL

I hate to step on an old saying, but sometimes will doesn't work.
Sometimes there isn't enough power behind the will.
When there is, it's quite wonderful.
The vision pulls you for forward with some bumping and bruising  but it is all rather grand and exciting.
Grab it and enjoy.

But sometimes, optimism flags.
Big dreams sputter.
Using the will seems to create more resistance than forward movement.

Then it's time to use the way not the will.
Here's how I find my way to more will power.

I stop.
Period.
I let things brew until a way comes clear.  I could go into new physics to explain why this works but it does.

Or, I make a small, as in teeney tiny, baby step toward action.
Easy action.
My examples?
I've scheduled a meeting with a designer to add to my blog site.
I've looked up names for a virtual assistant.
I signed up for a writers' conference in San Miguel.
I've scheduled a bi-weekly meeting to co-consult with a friend.

I don't have the ooomph to go further right now.
But these actions with get the ball into play for me.
And will give me energy and optimism for more
Which will build my will until it catches fire again.

Don't wear yourself out straining your will power.
Feed it a little with small bites.
Doing something different takes staying power, sometimes bursts of energy
sometimes dry spells.  

Use a little "way" power.

METHOD OR MAGIC

I was heartened by the World Series.  

First of all both the Red Sox and the Cardinals were decent people with good Managers. 

Not to be taken for granted. Respectful competitors.  

BUT mostly  I love that 'team" is what did it for the Red Sox

Clearly defined common goal.

Unifying commitment made visible with the symbolic beards

No super stars

When one team member fell back, another emerged

Unswerving determination

Ability to toss off momentary defeat

The whole being  larger than the sum of the parts.

Heart felt bond between players

Synergy in the best sense of the word.

A steady path to a gloriously satisfying moment of victory.

But the team won't last

The draw of the dollar with pull it apart.

Would they choose to do it again together?  Could they?

How much was method and how much was magic?

Would they want to test the premise of team?

I would love to see it.

Why?  Because I believe in the method.  The method is the magic!!

BOSTON STRONG!!!!!!!

SAY YES TO THE MESS

Entropy lurks.
Go with it.

That's been my lesson the past few weeks.
I've been on a "create order--be planful" kick that  isn't working.
Just reading the definition of entropy made me laugh--"a degree of disorder and randomness in the system".

A degree of disorder and randomness in the system???  Oh yeah!

I plan a trip with my husband to visit the family of one of our five kids and "bingo" another kid with kids wants to come here during the same week.

I decide to spend Thursday night writing and my local grown daughter suddenly needs a baby sitter because her schedule has gone blooey.

A year ago we empty out our garage with the gift of help from my Boston son and his wife.  We celebrate being normal grown-up people with a garage you can actually use.  Just today, they arrived with a truck load of things to store in the garage!

My client work doubles right when I decide to taper.

I just took down Fourth of July decorations from my mantle.  I can't find the cold medicine I need.  The stacks of books in my home office have become
landslides, and I can't find my favorite heavy coat. Found last week's blog still in "draft"  And these are only the things I'm willing to share

So I soothe my self.
I long ago decided to say yes to the mess. 
And I have to remind myself.

Yes to the Mess for me means:
Family over schedule
Good work over clean house
Comfort over order
Friends over errands and tasks
Spontaneous fun over any plan I've made
Enjoying the vitality of surprise over plan
Room for random over too tight an expectation
Letting life have its way over always my way
Appreciating the humor of the mess over taking it soooo seriously 

Life doesn't stay tidy for long anyway.
So when the control and order bug starts to make me say "no", I remember my decision to say yes to the mess for the life in it.

A BREAKTHROUGH IS JUST ONE MOMENT OF A PROCESS

A breakthrough is a sudden dramatic moment.
It is exhilarating
Miraculous.
Exciting
And, in some way, a big relief.

Why relief?
Because there is a before and after to a breakthrough moment or event.
Before breakthrough, pressure has been building for a long time or it wouldn't be a breakthrough.
The pressure of vision, hard work, hope, belief, endurance and incredible resilience.
The pressure of seeing the breakthrough moment, wanting it and not having it.
Tolerating the tension of what is and what could be.

Several of my loved ones have just had breakthrough moments.
One, husband, just finished the last draft of a book he has been working on for at least five years.  (YES you will hear more about it)
It was a lovely moment to see him hold the physical draft in his hands.
He was buoyant for two days.

Then came the second half of a breakthrough moment.
The new moment becomes daily reality --the new normal.
The awareness of new labor to come dawns.
Second guessing the breakthrough follows.
The miraculous becomes mundane.

So when you experience a breakthrough wallow in it for a while.
Enjoy that something new has happened.
Work will always be, so why not work on something wonderful and new?

I WONDER IF I'LL LET MYSELF BE OLD WHEN I AM

I have said some variation of that sentence to several people this week  and have gotten the same reaction.
Somewhere between shock and repulsion.
I said the forbidden word.
OLD.  "When I am OLD not older or mature or seasoned--OLD

I  triggered a cultural taboo.  
I could have said some truly awful words and gotten a less strong reaction.

I was talking to a wide range of people too.  Adult children, a long term friend, a new friend, my husband, a client! 
It wasn't just that they didn't want me to get old.  I can so understand  that. Especially with kids.  I didn't think my parents were old even when they had died for Pete's sake.  Still don't.

No, the reaction was more that old was a very very bad thing to become.
Terrifying.  Absolutely to be avoided.
A reality that could be ignored if never spoken or brought to a conscious level.
A giant cultural contract.   Shhhh.  We don't do old.

After the strong reaction to the word OLD, came a bunch of conversations about the definitions of age, of retirement, of middle-age, of maturity of health even of youth.  "It all depends on what 'old' means. Do you mean 'old' physically or mentally."  All words used to tap dance away from the fact that OLD exists. 

No, I'm not old yet.  But I want to be when I am.  And I can see the horizon of old.  But no wonder no one wants to be old in the U.S.  where aging means being devalued and invisible or even worse--generic.  And hard to look at.  A reminder of frailty.  

Maybe I can be old better in Mexico where we live part of the year, where older people are loved and fussed over because they are revered (and also kind of treated like cute  babies -- at least the fuss is the same)  and never ever ever left alone. Eve. Los viejos are cared for--bathed, fed, petted and held.  

Actually, I'm thinking of something more magnificent when it comes to "old".  Jung and Erickson  talked about the development stages of a life--infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, middle adulthood and maturity followed by death.  We in the American culture tend to skip over the very last stage. We  pump up our middle life and keep recharging it until we drop (or are dropped)  "dead".  Battery kaput.

But the last stage of a long life should be distinct and lived fully.  It is  a time  of  shedding of material burden and care--a culling.  It should be one of comfort and simplicity.  It should be a time of formal acknowledgement of wisdom gained.  Time to tell the story of a life. There should be a ritual for entering "oldness".  The ritual should burnish the life, make it glow a little.  There should be a ritual  somewhere between a birthday and a wedding. The honored person would breath a sigh of relief to enter the time of life to only "be".  Doing is done.  The elder is  carried on the esteem of family and friends and culture.  Old would not be defined by physical deterioration but by a new stage of life--celebration and liberation.

I am laughing.  I just shared this thought with my husband whose visceral response was like that of  a hot potato to be dropped as fast as possible.
"Will you order the casket too?" he said.  He was appalled at the idea of relishing oldness.  I liked what he said next though.  "I'm at the stage where my age is none of my business." 

 Wisdom or denial?   

RANT N CANT

I have been out and about more than usual lately given that recluse has become my default position.
 I have been with friends and colleagues and family and clients and new acquaintances.  Red, blue, young, old, mostly all intelligent and nice.

Still I am stuck in small talk unless I want a personal Homeland Security Guard to protect me in conversation.   If I throw out hot words like Syria, Obamacare, gun, God, 1%, Palestine/ Israel--- (fill in your own taboo of choice) there spews a sudden Mount Vesuvius of words.  Even from quite reserved types.  Blah Blahddy blah blahddy blah.  I am seared.  My hands are up in front of my face.  
And this is with people I know and like.

So many beyond strong opinions.  So many words and phrases used over and over again depending which side of the opinion track you live on.  Such narrow ditches have been dug to protect these opinions from being accessible to new possibilities. So defended.

I am talking about people on almost any side of the hot topics of our day.
One word and the result  feels like pressing a button to dispense a cup of ranting and raving.

I don't trust any strong black or white opinion--at least not for making decisions and taking action.
The more simple the argument gets the more I don't believe it.
And I am not an easy person to shut up.
And I am not wish washy.
But I am getting quieter and quieter and quieter.
Beaten down my the anvil of already formed opinion.
And when I  work to be  informed and open, the complexity of most hot issues is what strikes me.
The patience and time  it would take to get clear and then converse.
The seemingly insurmountable task of creating open space to think together.


If I ran a "salon", I would ask six violently opposed (easy) people to come together (harder).
Three on one side and three on the other of their favorite rant topic.
I would have them give 3 things to read to their co-thinkers/opposition.
That would be the common ground of fact and rationale.
Then I would ask them to define the core dilemma and create an approach for its resolution.  Only silence or agreement with points made could be used to work, talk and think their way to new resolution.

Does the word "hysterical" ring a bell?  "Uncontrolled extreme emotion"!
The world needs a nap or a big time out til it can take part in the big people's table as adults.

Lest this become rant, I'm going to work at getting in behind the wall of rant n cant this week.  Asking for more depth to understand, being curious about the fear behind the rigid opinion and assuming goodwill as I listen.  Dieting would be easier.

SO GLAD YOU ARE OUT THERE

I set a goal for myself to write two weekly blogs for one year.
To see if I would maintain the discipline and to see if I enjoyed it.
One personal and one professional.

Funny thing about goals.
Or lists.
They have a specific focus and one of the things they do is help you to say "no" to everything that is NOT the goal or focus.

Well, I set a goal to write.
Wasn't thinking so much about being read.
I just had words to get out of my system so I could put more in.
Sort of an extreme readers' dilemma.

Anyway, I am beginning to hear from more and more of you.
And I love it.
I'm a talker so I love conversation and dialogue.
More like we're at the table together and less like I have a homework assignment.

On some anal day, I'll try to build in more interactivity.
Right.

Anyhow, thank you.  Very fun.

And great lesson about goals.
How to make them specific enough to get the job done, but not so narrow you leave out the most important (and so obvious as to be invisible) part.

I want you to read what I write
And I want to hear your thoughts.
There.  Better goal.

FROM THE SUBLIME TO THE RIDICULOUS AND BACK AGAIN

It's been a dumb week for me.
Many ridiculous things going blooey at the same time.
Refrigerator gone.  Rotting food stashed all over the basement
Long awaited  new eyeglasses don't work.
Three pair.  Deemed necessary by doctor. All off.  
Blurry is me.  Reverting to ancient glasses.  Constant headache.
Lost everything--car keys, house phone, passport.
Red spills on white stuff.
You know what I mean.  I hope you know what I mean.
RIDICULOUS

Now for sublime.
I am a God searcher wannabe believer.
I am way well read in theology and all the major religions.
God has become a celebrity by the way.
Love or hate.
Anyway, my husband and I have been reading in Sufism.
I got such relief from the Islam 99 names for God
Each carries an aspect of God.  Different focus good for different human issues.
The are often all named in a chant--just to cover all the bases.
Check it out on You Tube.  99 names of god chanted--ish.

Anyway it freed me up because I think God is just one ruined word.
One ruined stereotype.
In the sky, white beard giving out goodies and punishing too.
It kind of embarrasses me.  For Godness.
This mystery can't be cornered or contained or named.
So the 99 names of God made my week.
There are at least as many in Christianity.
So I want that Cistine Chapel  God image and name out of my searching.
And so the SUBLIME.

And now back to the slime of rotted vegetables.
Life is truly funny.  
But only from a distance.
I could use some.

WHERE DID THE MIDDLE GO?

I once had a real hot headed fight with a business colleague in front of many people.

Not the smartest thing to do.

And we were arguing about "the middle".  And what it was and why it was needed.  

It was irritatingly esoteric to everyone but the two of us.

The meeting leader called a break and everyone left us to figure it out.

We had been in the middle (not meant to be ironic, I swear) of working on a "vision" for a crucial work project and it kept degenerating into tiny execution details.  We were either in the clouds or in the forest of tasks to be done.  I was arguing for a middle ground between vision and minute detail.

Well I still am.  Arguing for the middle that is.

We as a planet are screaming with the need for more "middle"

But what we have is:

Upper class or middle class

God raving or God forsaking

Blindly committed red or blue voters 

Cynical with dark despair or pumped up hyper optimism

Over paid executives or poverty paid entry level workers

Blind faith or blind atheist

Hawks or doves

Global warning or environmental scoff laws
Religion or science

I want more middle ground, more moderate discourse, less drama.

It is the middle path that leads to sanity, to the greatest good for the greatest number.

It is so tempting to match extreme for extreme.

According to the Buddha, the Middle Way is a life lived between the extremes of self-denial and self-indulgence.   Doesn't that sound good?  How do we (you and I) begin walking the middle path as a way of growing common ground step by step by excruciating step?

NOT EVERYBODY HAS A DREAM

I have a dream but---

Who am I to have a dream?
I wonder if its worth the effort
I want to take care of myself and work less

It evaporates when I talk about it

Someone criticized it when I first mentioned it

I am too old to pursue it

I don't have to time for it
I don't have the skill to do it

I assume the cynicism of the world will kill it

I don't want to be exposed

I'm a private person

I don't have the money

No one is interested in it

I know it isn't practical

I put it on the shelf for later
I'ts  too grandiose 

I'm not that special and neither is my dream

Who cares, everybody has dreams

GUESS WHAT?  NOT EVERYBODY DOES HAVE A DREAM.

So if you do, get over it and get on with it.

What are your reasons to give up your dream?
I just shared some of mine!!
Get them out of your head where you can look at them.
And guess what?  With or without a dream most of  the above could be true.
Could.
So why not work the dream?

Might be easier than working to let it go.

With MLK in mind

THE MIRACLE OF THE ACTUAL

 I wish I could claim that phrase.  It's from the novel TransAtlantic by Colum McCann. Those words wrapped around my neck when I read it and held me tight.
  
I have been in two exaggerated states of mind all day.  Focused on the insanity of our world right now (and maybe always).  
Grotesque kidnappings, murder out of boredom, blowing ancient cultures to smithereens in hysterical violence, nature showing who's boss.  You name it and I was wallowing in it.

OR I was trying to counter that negativity by determined optimism and effort.
Hey let's do it.
Life is better than it is!  Just dream it, do it, have it.
What's wrong with you Joyce? Think big.  Live large.  Goading myself.

Not satisfying on a day of no obligation.  White space to use as I wanted.
And I was making myself nuts.

So I went to the porch and to my default.  A book.  Can't figure out life?  Read.
Mad at the world?  Read.  Itchy but not wanting to do anything?  Read.

So I did.  And there was that phrase--the miracle of the actual.
And I dropped into it.  Just like Alice in Wonderland.  There it was.
The lawn dappled with late afternoon shade.
The Adirondack chairs lit by sun -- white white on the green grass.
The window boxes on the porch  happy and still Summer healthy--a hallucinogenic  purple in the shadows.
The forty foot spruce bouncing its long graceful grande dame like arms.
Coffee  hot on the side table.
The air light and startling clear.
Kids shouting at cars to stop for a car wash -- an adolescent descant.
Farmer's market flowers  on the table.
A crow scolding
A white candle drooped from sun melt.
All note perfect. 


I'm chilly.  I hold still.
I sit with my hands clasped under my nose, not wanting to move to the moment when I'll slide out of the miracle of the actual.  Everything OK just as it is.  No need to edit.  No flaws, no tasks.  I hold the moment.  

I mean, the universe laughed at me and held up a mirror to my belly-aching through plain perfect beauty.  

I AM SO RELIEVED TO KNOW I'M HAPPY

Don't ask me why I'm relieved to know I'm happy, But I am.  Deep down happy.
On the surface of life, the day to day, maybe not so much.
Lately, I've been irritated and balancing all kinds of conflict and not laughing enough. 

BUT, today I got affirmation that I'm happy.
Deep deep deep deep down happy.

I went to my first Yoga class.
My daughter took me as a gift.
I loved every moment of it.
Every silent hysterical moment of it.

First of all it was some kind of "restoration" yoga--oops "restorative" yoga.
As my daughter said afterward it was like an organized nap.
We flopped around on the floor getting into positions (I mean poses) very like what any 18 month old sleeps in.  We never did stand up.
The teacher was quite lovely.  Let's get that out of the way right now.
But the minute I get into a situation that is supposed to be silent and serious---
I get the giggles.  Which I love. There are few things better than giggles.
Suppressed are the best.  Church communion was great for giggles.  Quiet libraries.  Funerals.

The minute I got quiet and my breathing slowed down, my natural desire to be naughty and rebellious got kicked up.  Which made me happy.  Which made me giddy with the wrong kind of gratitude.

I knocked my block over--my glasses were on it.
When I put my hands down my rings clunked.
We had blankets to use which along with the mats and bolsters reminded me of Kindergarten naps--which I flunked for talking too much.

The leader told us to forget our "to do" list which totally activated mine.
We were not to think about Monday tasks.  Right.  My Monday is now all planned.
I began to remember weird  unfinished tasks like buying a wig for a young bald woman in Mexico.  True.  Random "to do's" came pouring out of me.  I wanted a court reporter to quietly capture them.  So incredibly productive.  My mind was on fire. My adrenaline was coursing.  

The teacher told us to settle into the quiet and fire engines with full blown sirens went by.  Oh I loved it.  

I had such a good time.  Semi-sleeping on the floor by my daughter was nice and cozy too like having lunch with no talk and calories.  I was good and quiet as we put away our toys.  I tiptoed out reverently like everyone else.  I was ready to honor my daughter's practice.

We sat outside the classroom for a minute before getting in the car.  My daughter looked at me and said, "I have my whole life planned out for the next three months."  We  had a good guffaw.  What's better?

So when I am guided into my deepest, most authentic self, I like who I am.
Happy.  Ready to laugh and be naughty.  Full of crazy joy.  On the surface, I may be a mess, but deep deep deep ohm deep, I am happy.  I love yoga.

CIVILITY. IT EXISTS! I'VE SEEN IT!!!

I keep meaning to share this.
I have seen civil behavior in actual practice.
And in an airport crisis of all situations!
Experienced it.
Benefited from it.
Been heartened by it.

I was on the way to my brother's funeral on very short notice.
It was a Friday.  The service was on Saturday.  I was traveling from Portland Maine to South Bend Indiana.
My travel agent tried to book a prudent flight path given both weather and the impact of sequestration. (Will jump right over that)
My husband and I made it to Detroit Michigan easily enough.

Then all hell oozed loose.  Little by little disintegration began.
One delay posted.  Second delay posted.  Weather.  
End of day approaching.  Anxiety building.
People flooding the agents desk.  No answers.  No hope.  No service.
People competing for information and  for seats on any possible next plane.
I called my sister-in-law to say I probably would not make the service.
Tears all around.
We this great mass of people sat with our irritations and thwarted plans fuming.

It was a gridlock of no information, no authoritative help, not enough resource combined with  competitive fear and moral outrage.

Then something shifted.  It happened at the moment of defeat.
We began to share with one another our specific situations.
One woman just back from Singapore visiting her daughter sick husband at home in little town near South Bend.
A couple heading to give a workshop at Notre Dame. On first thing the next morning.
My need to get to my brother's funeral.

We began connecting based on common circumstances of geography and need   pointing out people to one another who were in the same boat.

The Singapore lady lived near my brother.
She had the last ticket for the flight that might (or might not) take off.
She wanted to give it to me and my husband would go back to Maine.
We were all making cell phone calls to hotels and loved ones--adapting.

Then I said, "I'm going if I have to take a taxi!"
Bingo.  The Singapore woman, my husband and I decide to rent a car.
Another 6 people going to Notre Dame rented a van.
On and on.  People grouping together to get what they wanted.
Some sharing a taxi for a hotel hunt.

This cooperative problem solving didn't start until we began to share stories and  until we gave up on any authority or expert helping us.  Hello.  Absorb that.

Off my husband and I and the Singapore Lady trudged taking turns carrying our luggage to the car rental place.  The three of us a triumvirate of jet lag, grief, exhaustion and betrayal by weather and airlines.
It was not until we got on the road to South Bend and were 15 minutes down the road that we introduced ourselves.  And not til we were on the road for an hour that we realized it was going to be a five hour trip.  

We chatted about work, religion, and food.  We stopped for coffee and ice cream.  We stopped for bathroom breaks.  We were on a family vacation in the middle of the night as strangers.  Later we would laugh as everyone we called to share our plan was worried about what we were doing and whether we (meaning all of us) were trustworthy.  

My husband and I were driven up to the door of my sister-in-law's house at 4 AM in the morning.  She ran out with homemade jam for our guardian angel lady. (Midwest response to any crisis)  We all hugged.  And that was it.  I may find her email address and I may not.

The point is that we were civil and generous with one another--this bunch of 300 or so people.  But not at first.  Not when we thought someone else could help us even if it meant it would hurt someone else.  After all, it was authority.  But when things fell apart and it could have turned Lord of the Flies, it didn't.  We used restraint and generosity and collaboration and people got where they needed to go.  Not just our group.  We passed people who shared their plans. A van.  A shared hotel room. Camping out in the airport with sleeping bags.  The airline employees had given up long ago and had gone home.  We took care of ourselves.

End of story.
Civil behavior won.
Why not more of this?

EXCITEMENT/ANXIETY/EXCITEMENT/ANXIETY

For me, anxiety and excitement live next door to one another.
Very close neighbors on the emotional scale.

Excitement gets me going.
Anxiety holds me back.
But both are full of energy to be used.

Excitement should be listened to.
Anxiety not so much.

Listen to the definitions:
Excitement--a feeling of great enthusiasm and eagerness
Anxiety--a desire to do something accompanied by unease

One is about feeling and one is about doing.
I always have some idea I'm excited about at the feeling level.
Doing is where the anxiety kicks in with it's unease.
Then again, excitement is not exactly long term comfortable.

Soooooo--how do I say this nicely?
Screw unease.
Don't let it win
It means you want to get something done.
AND if your going to have to manage being uneasy, then do something excitingly big enough or important enough or meaningful enough.

I had a client who wanted to make a big geographic and professional move.
She dreamed it, planned it and then said, "Now I have to go to lots of therapy so I'm not afraid to do this thing."  I looked at her and said, "What's fear got to do with it?"  She was stunned.  Thought she had to get rid of fear before she acted.  She got it.  She made her move and created exactly what she envisioned.  To the nth degree.  Beyond bizarre.


Trust me, I am talking to myself.
Thanks, anxiety for making me want to "do".








a desire to do something accompanies by unease
a feeling of great enthusiasm and eagerness

LESSONS FROM AN IN-BETWEEN PLACE

At last, I can put a name to it.
I am in transition, in-between, neither here nor there.
Now that I recognize it,  I can get excited as well as irritated and dis-oriented.

I thought I was recovering from being tossed around by life and death issues.
No, not really.
Grief and joy are really quite clean, easily identified emotions.
You ride them til they are done.

Now I realize that I am in a life skid heading toward something new. And I don't know what. Something is finished and new isn't here.

Here are my symptoms that I recognize that tell me "Here we go again--transition":

• First of all, it takes me awhile (too long) to realize that I am going through a big shift.
• My emotions are murky, it's hard to know what i am feeling other than confused.
• I am exhausted. My insides are changing while my previous external life goes on.  I can feel tired from doing nothing.
• Nothing pleases me. I can be bitey and not like it or know why.
• I am easily distracted and it's hard to concentrate.
• Things I love to do, don't interest me.
• Social situations irritate me.  I feel like I am wasting my time.
• I tend to just sit and slobber.  Meaning I am lying fallow whether I like it or not.
• Taking any initiative feels artificial and oh, so difficult.
• I am forgetful.
• I feel generally incompetent.

All of this is because I am not really present.  I'm getting ready to do something else or to be different.  This beginning stage of change can be profoundly dis-orienting and make one (that'd be me) feel nuts.  Unless--you know how to swing through what feels like free fall into your future new grounded place.

So what helps?

• Know you are in transition.  I feel so much better just talking about it.
• Be alert to your dreams.  Mine have been repetitious and demanding. (I am looking for a lost car in a parking lot where I used to work before retirement. The parking lot is dark and frozen and deserted.)  Hellooo!  I am looking for a vehicle to take me from an old place and can't find it.  Hmm.
• Let people know you are in transition so they will cut you some slack for your temporary craziness.
• Cut back on some activities to give yourself time to see what is pulling at you  naturally.  Look for a  pull where effort comes easily.
• Mourn some of what you seem to be stepping away from
• Begin to get more interested in what could be than what is.
• Practice moments of exhilaration that come from letting go.
• Look for and allow images to come to you of how it might be in the future.
• Sleep more.  Move more.  Anxiety from not knowing feeds on exhaustion.
• Know that major transitions don't come that often so remind yourself that youare moving toward being more alive, more self determining and more aligned with yourself. At least, that is the opportunity you have.

  There is another option too, which is to talk yourself into living with discontent and adaptation. Sometimes that is a viable and necessary choice.  But your body and your soul make a lot of noise if you are truly killing your spirit or joy.  Then it's time to dig into the transition.  See what's there and step into the in-between. That's what I'm doing. When I take that step I  have a sense of excitement.  Carbonation in my stomach. The fun of not knowing as well as all the other stuff.

Some old sage said  that eternity and perfect realization come in the space between two thoughts.  Well then, in-between can't be all bad. 

I'VE BEEN LIVING SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LAZY AND LETHARGIC

And it's not so bad.
The earth has not swallowed me up.
I have not been shunned from human kind

Whether from heat or grief from the death of my brother or pure exhaustion from too many major events in a short time, I have been living from a new place.

My mantra has been "I don't care."
It's been oddly exhilarating.  And, certainly,  liberating.

We had an out of town guest this week.
Didn't grocery shop ahead of time.
Didn't cook.  We ate out every meal.
Didn't "entertain" him.  Talked when I wanted.  Left the room when I didn't feel like talking.

Adult kids came to visit.  (I am a foodie and family equals food to me.)
I eked out one meal.  No snacks in the house.  
Someone asked about dessert--I suggested the local ice cream hut.

I read a little. Mostly magazine articles.
No purpose just meandering through some distracting words.

I did great "work" with my coaching clients because they had to do all the work.
I couldn't/wouldn't.  Too lazy to cancel appointments.

I didn't read email or text.
Too much contact. 

I sat and enjoyed sitting.
I liked my own company best.

Most interesting, I didn't need words--to talk, to read or to write.

Depression?  Wisdom?
Don't know.
But it has been good practice for detachment.
Not making it happen but letting it happen.
I can feel the lists beginning to form.
I can feel new energy building so living in this indifferent place won't last much longer.
But I will remember it fondly.

Someone once said to me, "In life you are either sinking or swimming."
I hated the concept then.  I hate it now.
I am so not going to sink or swim.
I'm going to float for a while.