Category: Connection

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Lessons in the Almost

I have said many times and I am sure will say many more, that my daughter is one of my greatest teachers. My son is proving to be one of them too.

From my daughter I have learned perserverance, rule-breaking (again), unconditional love, that the “authorities” don’t always know what they are talking about, and that deeply feeling one’s emotions–all of them–is the way to find true connection: to one’s self, to those we love, to the world. She has also taught me about creativity and individuality and what it really means to be a rebel.  And her greatest lesson to me: You can never be fully prepared for what life has to offer.

She’s patiently taught me these lessons since she was in utero–when we were told at seven weeks pregnant she probably wouldn’t make it; when my water broke at 34 weeks and we hadn’t yet put together her changing table or even packed our hospital bags. She has been at least five steps ahead of me for the last seven plus years and by knowing her and mothering her I believe I have become a better person, coming closer and closer to the person I am meant to be, called to be.

I expected a similar pregnancy with our son: one filled with scares and unknowns. We (myself, husband and medical team) expected him to arrive early, like his big sister. I spent the first half of my pregnancy holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the bad news and obstacles, and yet they didn’t come.

My son is teaching me patience and to truly embrace each new day as it comes without expecting the worst, allowing space for the best. He has taught me to love my body again, its working parts and non-working parts. And his greatest lesson so far: settling into the becoming, the inbetween, the almost.

I’ve been pregnant more than three weeks longer with him than I have ever been before. I’m learning the nuances of aches and pains and contractions. I’m learning to embrace the uncomfortable: not only literally being uncomfortable because I have a 20 pound bowling ball of fluids and new organs and baby where my stomach and intestines once sat or because my hips and pelvis are spreading in ways I can’t believe are actually natural. No, the real discomfort is in the not knowing, the inability to plan, the wanting him here already and having to release any sense of control I may think I have to make that happen now.

He’s forcing me to rest in this place of almost: Almost a mama of newborn; almost the mama of two; almost the mama of a son; almost a family of four; almost stepping into this next iteration of my, our, life. I don’t know when BabyBoy is going to decide to enter the world and so all plans we make now are consciously tentative, made with the caveat of “unless he decides to make his appearance before then.”

The reality is all our plans are tentative, whether we acknowledge that consciously or not. A million different things can happen to change our course, from the big and dramatic changes like the birth of a child or the death of a loved one, to the more minor, everyday things like coming down with a cold, or a car breaking down. Life happens, and we can plan all we like, and yet the reality is we don’t have control.

So we are all living in this space of almost in many ways, in this space of constantly becoming. We make our plans and have our dreams and go through our lives. And how we deal with the changes in course, I believe, speaks volumes of who we are, who we were and who we will become. Do we resist and fight and demand the illusion of control, or do we step into the moments, embracing the pains and pleasures as they come to us?

I say we all do a bit of both resisting and embracing. I know I do.

When I sense the resistance however, when I become aware that I am fighting something I have no power or control to change, I breathe. I step into my body-centered mindfulness practice. I become curious about why I am so resistant, what is the fear behind the fight, behind the temper-tantrum. (And it’s always a fear that lingers there, trying to keep me safe, trying to keep me from shining.) What am I ready to release, what is the lesson that is sitting here for me to see, to breathe into?

She was becoming herselfOver the last week or so I have had more than a few temper tantrums. I have told BabyBoy he won’t get any birthday parties if he doesn’t make his appearance soon. I have been snappy and mean to my daughter. I have been angry that we aren’t moved into the next step of our lives. We have been ready for weeks now, with hospital bags packed and in the trunk of the car; infant supplies all procured; feelings of readiness and anticipation over-analyzing every twinge from my uterus, every mood shift, every food craving. I have researched every possible way to naturally induce labor and tried many of them.

I have tried to push us forward, when the lesson is to sit back and release and allow life to unfold as it is meant to. To open space for the becoming, to be in the being now: this almost, this “in-between.” I fall back on my breathing and body-focused mindfulness practice and explore my fears and hesitation and embrace this little boy and his lessons for me, allowing more space for the unknown and the almost. And knowing I cannot plan for tomorrow, I allow myself to live in today.

 

Savoring SensualityTo celebrate BabyBoy’s eventual entrance into the world, I have revamped my self-study program Savoring Sensuality and am offering it at a 30%+ discount. For more information and to register, click here. 

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Mindfulness, Schmindfulness – Part Deux

There’s been a lot about mindfulness in the media over the last month or so. The most recent piece receiving attention being the TIME magazine article by Kate Pickert. Both PsychCentral‘s Mindful Parenting writer Carla Naumberg and the Huffington Post‘s Religion writer Joanna Piacenza have responded, not really to the article, but rather to the cover art chosen to represent the article and mindfulness in general.

I’ve also been sorting out my thoughts on this “Mindfulness Revolution” and how it is portrayed in the media. In my most recent Mindful Connections newsletter I shared some of those thoughts (which I consider to be Mindfulness, Schmindfulness – Part One). This one issue of my newsletter has received such a response from my readers that it has become crystal clear I should share these thoughts with a larger audience.

It feels like the whole world has declared 2014 the year of Mindful Living (The Huffington Post; Get Up and Do Something; NewCo; and various bloggers, including this one, just to name a few). At first this excited me. Ah, finally! I thought. The world is being turned on to mindfulness, a practice that has literally changed my life and how I view it. I envisioned the masses slowing down, putting down their devices, connecting in real time with the real people right in front of them, be those people children, romantic partners, work colleagues or friends. I saw a baby utopia starting to incubate and felt how the masses would step into this other way of living, of connecting and all would be beautiful.

Yeah, I’m a dreamer.

However, with every new article and blog post I became more and more disenchanted, frustrated and frankly bored with how mindfulness is being portrayed to and understood by the general public.

I appreciate the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn and his wife Myla in taking that initial step to separate mindfulness from Buddhist practice. No longer did one need to be a devout Buddhist to practice mindfulness: anyone could do it and receive the benefits of the meditations and exercises. The Kabat-Zinns opened the door for every person, regardless of religious affiliation, race, economic status or gender, to experience mindfulness and to bring more joy and peace and connection into his or her life.

And yet, when one does a Google search of mindfulness, we see image after image of serene scenes; yoga and meditation poses; young, physically fit and white women (rarely men are pictured); or images of Buddhist nuns and/or monks. Everything (and everyone) pictured is calm, at-peace and has this inner-I-am-totally-at-ease-and-peace-with-everything glow. There is no laughter, no chaos, no joy, no reality depicted.

And frankly that pisses me off.

A message is being sent as to what Mindfulness should look like; what your life, if you are doing your mindfulness practice right, will look like. I’m not good with shoulds. Or have-tos. Or thou-shalts. I react strongly to unrealistic expectations or homogeneous pictures of “if you did it right, everything would look like this.”

Mindfulness started to take on a sheen that is actually the opposite of what a mindfulness practice actually is about. Suddenly we could judge each other and ourselves on a scale of how mindful we are (or aren’t) and there are failure marks.

One of the tenets of mindfulness is non-judgement of the moment, of ourselves, of others.  Oops.  Guess the mass media missed that part.

Suddenly there’s a standard (serene, physically fit, never yelling, always calm, never reacting to anything) that is being put out there. A very unrealistic and not-based-in-reality standard.

Life is busy and messy and because of this, people who practice mindfulness can also appear busy and messy. We yell. We get excited. We laugh loudly. We dance and bring up high energies.  We rest and produce more subdued energies. We yell at drivers who cut us off on the freeway. We get mad at our loved ones, friends, bosses, the world. Sometimes we hit things or throw things out of frustration.

We feel. We feel our anger, we don’t stuff it down. We experience it. We feel our joy, we don’t cling to it, we savor it in the moment. More often than not we can catch ourselves from yelling at our kids or partner or friends and take in deep slow breaths, find center for a minute and then analyze what is really going on, what is really being triggered here. It’s a practice. There is no perfect. It is a continuum that we as practitioners slide up and down.

As I said in my newsletter:

My goal for my mindfulness practice is not to have that “inner-I’m-totally-at-peace-with-everything glow.” No. The goal of my mindfulness practice is to enjoy life. My life. To connect to the people I love. To experience laughter and spontaneity and connection. To be true to Me, whoever I am in whatever moment. To be fully me, now. And that may mean swearing like a sailor at the person who cut me off on the freeway. It may mean turning off my laptop and having a tickle fight with my girl. It may mean taking lots of breaths and checking in with my body or maybe it means going and punching the crap out of a pillow or punching bag. It may mean creating art, or having a spontaneous dance party in our living room, or going for a walk, or kissing my husband just because, or going on a date with one of my best friends because we need some grown up time away from the kids.

My mindfulness practice may sometimes look calm and peaceful. And sometimes it won’t at all. And that’s the way I want it.

Because I want to experience all of life. I want to be present for it. I want ME to be present for it. Not some “model of mindfulness” rather the true me right now.

This is what mindfulness has brought into my life. Yes, I do actually have a sense of inner-peace I didn’t have several years ago. Yes, sometimes people even tell me I glow. But my life does not look like an undisturbed lake nor does it look like a woman calmly and serenely meditating on the shore of said lake. And I believe the same is true for most of those who practice mindfulness, living in the real world. There are days of rushing out the door to appointments or classes or work. There are quiet moments of watching and smiling and feeling at peace. There chaotic moments of interacting and smiling and feeling totally connected to the people we are with and to the world. And there are moments when we have to search for our ground, our center, our breath. And frankly there are moments when even if we need to search for these things, we don’t.

Because we are all human.

Mindfulness, for me, is about connection. Connection to my self and understanding how my body, mind and emotions react to the world. Connection to the people in my life and being present and interacting with them in real-time, without electronic distractions. Connection to my greater community and the world, developing a deeper understanding of the experiences of others.

Mindfulness is a lot less about sitting on a meditation pillow and being all “ooooohhhhhmmmmmmm” and a lot more about having a dance party with my with girl or a long talk at the end of the day with my husband about nothing in particular.

And yes, actually I do meditate and practice yoga. And yes, those practices are a fundamental piece of guiding me to be more centered and grounded; to being able to be more present. And yet those practices take up less than an hour of my entire day (on the days I actually do them); they are not what my whole life looks (or even actually feels) like.

I would love to hear your thoughts on what mindfulness means to you. Email me or comment below.

 

 

 

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Forgive Yourself, Improve Your Relationships: A guest post at FloGascon.com

I am honored to be a guest writer in Flo Gascon’s Parenting Calmly series today. 

The practice of forgiveness is our most important contribution to the healing of the world.  -Marianne Williamson

Twinkle lights glowing in our family and living rooms. Candles at the dining table. Softness blooming out of the lights in our home, gently revealing what each space holds.

Creek gently babbling. Wind chimes tinkling. Sounds quietly entering my senses.

Mellow breeze kissing my face. Supple cotton touching my skin. Caressing touches opening possibilities.

I entered a world of Softness, surrounding myself with soft sights, sounds and feelings. This exterior softness represents the inner softness seeking out space in my body, my heart, my relationships, my being.

As I entered into this shift, the Hardness made itself clearly known. It came as resistance, to not see the world from the eyes of Others. It came as snapping at my husband and daughter over trivial things. It came as judgement of others and how they are living their lives.

Yes, others did hurtful things. Yes, others said unkind words. Yes, I’ve been misunderstood. Yes, there have been times I have been abandoned and unloved, shamed and ridiculed.

I held onto those hurts, the unkindness, the misunderstandings, using them as armor, protecting myself from future pain, or so I thought. Visit Flo’s site to read more (click here)…

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Dissonance

There is a dissonance that comes as we move from a highly distracted and non-present life into a life of connection and presence in the now. A shifting as we release old habits and create new ones. There is an ebb and flow to the process as we uncover the fears that are buried in our reasons for the distractions: the fears of true deep connection, the fears of being loved, the fears of being rejected, the fears of being seen as we are.

Stepping into the present moment is stepping into our vulnerability. It is a release of defenses that built the armor to distract us in the first place. By letting go of the long to-do lists and “have-tos” and “shoulds”; by letting go of expectations and worries; by letting go of distractions and numbing, we are allowing ourselves, our true selves, to be present and to shine through now.

This is some scary shit.

The dissonance comes into play as the space between—the space where we have started to release the old disconnecting habits and haven’t yet fully integrated the new connecting ones—comes into being. Our anxiety can actually increase in this in-between place: we know where we were and that it is not where we want to be, yet we aren’t quite fully living as we wish to live; neither space (distraction or connection) feels like home in this in-between place. This in-between place is a very uncomfortable place to be.

I’ve been feeling this dissonance lately as I shed even more distracting habits and focus in on deepening my connections with my world. I have been focused on releasing lately: releasing anger, frustration, fear, old stories, distractions. This release is creating some amazing amounts of space both inside me and in my daily life. As I’m releasing and this space is opening the dissonance comes: I feel off, odd, strange. I’m not used to having this space opened within me or in my days and I’m not quite sure what to do with it nor have I grown accustomed to having it. I am practicing breathing, meditation and of course, body-centered mindfulness to help me settle into this new open space, to find my comfort within it.

I honestly am a bit nervous about this process. I understand that releasing happens in layers and I am apprehensively curious how much more dissonance and discomfort I will feel as the layers continue to shed. I look at some of my old habits of isolation and distraction and on the rare moments I try to turn to them now, they don’t feel right, they only add to my “off” feeling. Yet as I practice settling deeper into connection (to myself, to my loved ones, to my world) some of those newly forming habits don’t feel quite like home yet either: while they feel new and strange they also feel like they could be home, once I allow myself the space to settle in.

So I continue this journey. I sit in this uncomfortable place as I give my body, mind and soul time to settle in, to find that “sweet spot” of being. I allow the discomfort to be and while practicing soothing exercises like deep breathing, repeating mantras, meditation, yoga, mindfulness, and play, I am being very mindful of not numbing and to allow myself to be where I am.

Being in this place of dissonance isn’t an easy place to be. It’s understandable to want to hurry up the process and get to the other side already. Yet this in-between place is important. Giving it space to be, giving yourself space to be, is vital to continuing on the path of savoring the present moment and finding those deep connections we all crave and need to thrive in this life.

Here’s to the dissonance. Here’s to this beautiful reminder that we are actively stepping out of our numbing habits and moving towards becoming even more fully present and finding those deep connections. I offer a prayer of gratitude to this dissonance, to its presence as I embrace it and where I am in this moment, knowing that this too shall pass, in its own time.

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Resetting

During the month of December, I felt off, not quite myself. While I remained present and enjoyed the season with my husband and our girl as a general statement, looking back I recognize the moments and days of disconnection and my own distraction. I can see how the end of the semester took more of my time and focus than I liked. I can see how the holidays, while beautiful and full of moments of our small family connecting, also brought their own stresses and pressure and distractions.

As the  holidays passed and December rolled into January the “offness” made itself even more known. For a few days I felt disconnected, discombobulated. I felt the stress of the long “to do” list for my business that I hope to complete before classes start back up at the end of the month. I felt overwhelm at the number of New Years cards I wanted to get out this week. I felt sadness from not getting more down time to myself; more time to connect with my little family; more time to connect with friends. Angsty is probably the best word to describe how I felt, however I was struggling to figure out what was at the core of the angst; what was beyond this bubbling tantrum of “I don’t wanna!!!”.

This morning, after my daughter woke me up, in those first moments of the day this angst and I-don’t-wanna were in the forefront. All I wanted to do was go back to bed, get some more sleep. All I wanted was to isolate in the dark and cry. All I wanted was to connect deeply with myself and figure out what in the hell was going on.

My husband got up and came down to the kitchen just a few moments after our daughter and I did. He too was exhausted and clearly needed some more sleep and some time to himself. I recommended he go back to bed and I would hang out with our girl for a while before starting my work day (one of the bonuses of running my own business from home: I can come in late whenever I want). He declined and recommended that I go back to bed before starting my work day.

I took him up on his offer.

I went back upstairs and curled under the covers. While I was exhausted, I couldn’t settle back into sleep. So I laid there for a while, allowing my thoughts to wander and came to realize that all this angst I was feeling was self-created. I created my deadlines for work. I created the deadline to get our New Years cards out the door. I created the deadlines to get the house cleaned and organized. I created the go-go-go schedule that kept us out of the house and didn’t allow space for relaxing and connecting.

I smiled at these realizations. Ah, I feel overwhelmed because of me. I feel angsty because I was trying to force myself back into a pace I walked away from four years ago when I left my previous career. I was feeling disconnected because I was disconnecting from those I love and value most. I glanced at the “to do” list I wanted to accomplish this weekend and decided at least half of what wasn’t done yet could be put off to next week. I breathed a sigh of relief, settled into my morning meditation, breathing in the word peace, and breathing out the word release.

Afterward, the smell of bacon motivated me downstairs for breakfast.

We sat at the breakfast table, the three of us. I smiled at our daughter’s now toothless grin and wondered how my itty bitty baby had gotten so big so fast. I talked with my husband and we connected while our daughter played with Barbies and Legos. I made myself some tea and then went upstairs to get ready for my day.

Once I was dressed, I went into the office where my husband was and gave him a hug and kiss. I then went into our girl’s room where she was playing and laughed with her, taking silly pictures of the two of us together. I told her it was time for me to leave and she asked that I stay, so I did for a few more moments, connecting with her and laughing. I went and gave my husband one more kiss and then when I was finally headed downstairs to work after gathering all my things, I saw the two of them cuddling and resting and connecting.

Ah, yes. This is our life: These quiet simple moments of holding each other; of laughing and being silly; of talking and hearing and being heard. This is our life because we chose it to be that way. We, my husband and I, chose for me to give up a career that was slowly killing me and us. I chose to go back to school to start a new career that would allow for more family time, more connection, more empathy and understanding. We choose to walk away from society’s expectations, shoulds and have-tos to create the space for calm, peace and living our lives connected to each other and ourselves.

I’m grateful for my husband. I’m grateful he offered me time this morning to restart. I’m deeply grateful I acknowledged this gift and accepted it; giving myself some much needed time to reset and look into what I needed and wanted.

I invite you to slow down this week. To sit or lay in quiet and allow your mind to wander; to give space to see where your life may not be working as you hoped and to understand why and how you could change that. Slow down, allow yourself to be.