mindfulness

My Life in My Hands

"Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."

--Kurt Vonnegut

3 bowls.JPG

At the age of 55 I took up an art. I enrolled in a ceramics class. My secret dream was to throw pots on the wheel, but it was one of those things I barely let into my consciousness. Part of me just dismissed it as something I wish I would have learned. ​

Two years later, I'm completely hooked. Completely. I would do it every day if I could. 8 hours a day if I could. If only someone would pay me by the hour, I would quit my job and just sit in front of the wheel and spin it.​

3-legged box.JPG

The great thing is, I can't really tell you why. Perhaps that's the point. I make my living with my brain. I love that too, but after 25+ years of trying to figure out the human condition, my poor brain needs a break. ​

The rhythm, the feel, the spin, the bringing something beautiful out of the mud, brings me a satisfaction that reaches my bones. There are so many things I love about it, but the best one is this:​

I have to pay attention every minute.​

Every mishap I've had at the wheel, or at the glazing table, was due to the fact that I wasn't entirely present to my task:.

Kind of like life, right?​

clay bottle.JPG

Clearing the Way

bike pic.JPG

A few weeks ago I started riding my bike again. I have a long history of, let's say, resistance to the whole cycling thing.​ That would be putting it mildly. Long story, not very interesting, but I want you to know I had vowed never to ride again.

But this year I decided I'd go once, just for 20 minutes or so, and then see if I wanted to go again.

I'm not in any kind of shape to be riding. It's been years since I've had to pedal. The trails near my home are relatively flat; nevertheless I'm working hard and gearing down, even on the gentlest of slopes. I'm very slow.​ The joggers are faster than I am. I hate that.

But still.​

I wanted to go again. And again. And again. And then the other day, as I was riding, I noticed the presence of something great - I think it was joy. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what it was.​ Joy.

What a surprise.

How did that happen, you ask?  Here's what I came up with:

1. I decided to ride alone. When I ride with my husband, I'm attuned to him instead of me. He's stronger, faster, more experienced, and in better shape overall. When I ride with him I automatically compare myself to him. I focus on how much I suck compared to him. That's never good.

2. I decided to start where I am and do what I need to do. If I need to gear down, I gear down. If I need to rest, I rest. I decided to accept myself, without judgment, just as I am, instead of be disappointed in what I am not.​ And I refused to wonder how silly I must look to everyone else on the trail.

3. With all of that mental nonsense out of the way, I'm free to experience what riding my bike is all about - the satisfaction of propelling myself forward on the strength of my own legs, the sights and sounds of the trail, the power of conquering something hard, the exhilaration of flying downhill. 

4. I cleared the way for the joy that's always available to me when I get out of my head and into the present - the present moment, the present season, the present temperature, the sound of the birds and the spin of the wheels, the lifesaving presence of my own breath, the burn in my legs, the wind on my face, the blue sky, the green grass. 

I got out of my own way and look what I found - joy. ​

Now that's something.

Things They Never Told Me

Photo 43.jpg

I've been working with people for more than 25 years, which is to say I've been working on my own self for at least that long. ​Longer, to tell you the truth.

I didn't always have the best tools, though. As a young clinician I jumped into the helping business with great enthusiasm. I was sure I was one or two insights away from healing the human condition, and if I was earnest enough - and I was - I could heal myself along the way.​

I had a fix-it mentality, and an abiding belief that if people (including myself) just knew enough stuff we could eventually attain a kind of peaceful contentment - a more sophisticated version of happily-ever-after.

A couple of decades and an episode or two of professional burnout later, I've learned a few things I wish someone had told me sooner. 

I'll start with these:

  • You can't fix what's not broken.

(What?!? Not broken? Are you kidding me???)

  • There is an essential part of me that has never been damaged, abused, neglected, ​or stained. I can learn to live my life from that essential place. 
  • My various neuroses are just a collection of stories I tell myself over and over.​ When I live inside the stories, I suffer. Greatly. When I let them pass through, I ground myself in peace.

  ​

"Be (In) Yourself!"

DSCF0031.JPG

I have read, and re-read, and re-read again, Geneen Roth's ​wonderful book, Women, Food, and God. Whether or not you have issues with food, I highly recommend it. In it she writes:

"never underestimate the urge to bolt."

She goes on to explain how many of us as children felt ill-equipped to handle what was happening in and around us - in our families, in school, in our emotions and in our bodies. We needed a way to deal with our sense of being overwhelmed. Since we didn't have the mental and emotional maturity to deal with our situation, and since we were children and we didn't have the choice to leave, we needed a way to leave and stay at the same time. 

We learned to shut down our awareness - the sensations of fear or violation in our bodies, the deep sadness, shame, rejection and confusion of our emotions, the input from our senses that lets us know the reality of what is happening. ​We invented a way to bolt.

It was a necessary skill for some of us. It got us through, helped us concentrate on some of the positive things that were happening. But that ability to shut down, to block sensations, to numb emotions, came with a heavy price.

It cut us off from ourselves, leaving us feeling alienated, divided, and only half alive. It also kept us stuck in a permanent state of avoidance, believing we can't handle what's going on inside us: Strong emotions illicit fear and must be shut down. Bodily sensations get ignored. Denying what's happening in the moment separates us from what's happening now. Our ability to deal with real-life situations in a mature way is sabotaged, because, as Earnie Larsen says, we may be adults on the outside, but on the inside, our 6-year old is driving the bus. 

This urge to bolt is what drives our addictions: alcohol, drugs, food, sex, shopping, video games, crazy relationships, work, power, ​helping.

Eventually, if we're going to grow up on the inside, we need to find a way to occupy ourselves again, to return to the body, mind, and heart we left behind.​

We need a way to occupy ourselves, to be in ourselves.​

It's harder than it seems, and it's just the beginning of a long, scary road, but if you're up for it, there a simple way to begin to come home to yourself. 

Try this simple exercise called "come to your senses:"​

Set aside 5 minutes of uninterrupted time. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and let it out slowly.​

Open your eyes and notice 5 things you can see. Don't just check them off the list, try and experience the sights: the blueness of the sky, the texture of the wall, the curve of your coffee cup, etc. Don't label or judge what you see, just let it impact you.​

Now listen. See if you can hear 5 things in your environment. Experience them.​

Now see if you can feel 5 sensations of touch: where your clothes touch your body, your feet in your shoes, the pressure of your legs on the chair, the temperature in the room, the smooth surface of the cup.​

Are there 2 things you can smell? ​

Any taste lingering in your mouth?​

Now notice how you feel after doing this exercise, intentionally occupying your 5 senses. ​

Enjoy, and please feel free to share your experience with this exercise in the comments.​