Looking Forward (and minding the gap)

On Thanksgiving weekend, I remembered how nice it can be when everything becomes unfamiliar once again. That strange way that late December has, when all the usual routines are interrupted and the year gets ready to re-arrive.

I just finished watching a film called 2012: Time for Change, by Joao Amorim. It somehow managed to broach the subject of apocalypse! in an upbeat, positive way. Apparently, apocalypse! means a lifting of the veil, an uncovering of something. The film looked at the perspectives of this time from many indigenous cultural perspectives, and sees human consciousness in rapid transformation on this planet. It’s not so much about external indications like weather patterns or stock market indicators I heard, but the potential for awakening deeply embedded within each of us. Images of thriving communities, green buildings and people with big picture visions like Buckminster Fuller, cars running on water, and the neural networks of mushrooms were explored.

There’s always some kind of crush that goes on during holiday time: exams, papers, shopping, cooking, traffic jams, yankee swaps, and family dysfunction.* All of this followed by that gap: nobody to see, nowhere to go, pulling out a new calendar perhaps, a dry scene out the window. This gap can be lovely, but also unsettling.

I agree about this rapid change in human consciousness. I feel it within myself. You can’t swing a cat these days without hitting a new spiritual movement or natural disaster. The 80s and the 90s weren’t quite like this.

So, none of us knows what’s coming. It’s the same as every year in that way. What I like in this film is there was no hand wringing. There was no prediction. It had nice animations. And it made me look forward to whatever is in store, as part of this process of change, not as a bystander, victim or perpetrator of it, but as a part of this collective human experience in transformation.

I propose that for this new year, however standard or unfamiliar it may appear from your vantagepoint, you invite – even welcome – whatever is already here in your life, that is changing and in motion. It’s not so much to determine what that is, as to welcome that it is. I have a good feeling about this strange moment, and I think it’s an opportunity for the extraordinary, if we can open to it instead of fearing it.

I recently heard a friend give thanks for learning at the holidays to hang back and observe her surroundings. She started to take in that people love her, and to see what she’d been too busy to take in before. What would it be like to do a little less, and to be a little more. What do you choose to notice? I’m asking you and I’m asking myself.

Your mind is a powerful instrument, and I invite you to make a choice about what you nurture going on inside of it, and inside of your tender, human relationships. How are you treating the people around you? How are you treating yourself? Are you able to hang out in an awkward silence? Stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk to make a decision? Do you ever hold your own hand?

Please enjoy your life, and this place we share, in this precious moment where everything is ordinary and unfamiliar. Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year!

*Every year I send out the same post: The Good Bonfire Guide to Being Alive and Well at Holiday Time which is more directly about the time before the gap described above.

Edging toward the Hideous

It’s amazing how black and white my thinking can be. At certain moments, I feel like a strong, capable, interesting person with a true handle on her life. I find myself flowing smoothly in my car down a road, enjoying a song on the radio and feeling happy and open.

Twelve hours later, I’ve discovered myself under blankets, with a slow, dull tape of disappointment and aversion looping through my head. At those moments, which have varying degrees of intensity, I feel far away from the moments of simple presence and gratitude. At times it’s inwardly directed, and at others, it’s the world that isn’t measuring up.

Laying there, I may just feel like a potato.
Or, I might be experiencing physical pain, and somewhere within me, is the accusation: It’s your own fault somehow. You did or didn’t do something the way you should have and that’s why you are laying here in pain. The rest of the world, this logic authoritatively explains, is getting stuff done and shaking hands on major deals while you are not.

What prompts this logic? Letting my body rest after a long day, or breathing with cramps, or resting with a headache.

Buddha said, in other words to be sure, In Life, shitty stuff happens. It’s not personal. This is also known as the first noble truth. The logic in my head that it’s personal, is not, according to Buddha’s observation, an accurate read on reality.

Another translation of Noble Truth No. 1 is ‘In life there is suffering.’ Which I was down with for a long time, except that Suffering with a big S feels very dramatic, in the manner of Mother Theresa and Lepers, or the loss of a child, or war. And there is much of that kind of suffering in life, but my headache doesn’t quite seem to qualify.

And so, I like the translation: ‘In life, there is Stress.’ That I can apply to my own life.

All I’m trying to say here is this: My life’s project is to befriend myself. Not just when the sun is shining and the good song is playing. But to open up to even the parts that feel completely unqualified to be on the human team. Some people may read this and edge away from the monitor slightly: Wow, she’s got issues. Notice that! It’s called aversion. That’s just what I’m talking about. My life’s project is to open to that which I feel like I want to avoid, within myself, and in others.

And conversely, when things are sweet, to also hold it lightly, with an open palm, knowing that all of it is always, always, reliably, changing.

Here’s a simple Statement of Intention to work with, or you could call it a prayer if so inclined:
May I be free from attachment and aversion, while still continuing to care.

How to practice with these ideas:

a) Write that notion down on a scrap of paper, and run into it sometimes in your pocket or at the bottom of the laundry basket.

May I be free from attachment and aversion, while still continuing to care.

b) Be curious about what’s uncomfortable. If you’re not acting on that desire to avoid yourself, a situation, or another, what do you notice is underneath the aversion? Try asking yourself that question in writing or meditation.

What is underneath this aversion, this discomfort?

c) Get into your body to quiet your head: When the mind is full of itself and taking up a lot of space, bypass it by relating to something the five senses can notice: a texture, a smell, contact your skin is making with your clothing, or the reliability of gravity.

Note: this is not an assessment of your body by the mind, like (my hair is greasy and needs washing) but an experience of things through the body itself.

Tender activity: If in paralysis, see if you can get up for a glass of water, or to pick a piece of paper off the floor to place in a trash can. See if you can move slowly and deliberately, kindly. And then, see what’s next.

I’ll leave you now with a completely different angle on the same idea: The apostle Paul, is purported to have said, ‘I die daily…’
Perhaps he was referring to this idea of resetting or redirecting oneself over and over again, opening to things we want to run from, feeling the burn as they said in the eighties. What would be left if we let it burn itself into something new instead?

Melting – Melting!

The polar ice caps are doing it, why not us?
From rigidity to fluidity.

Everything, major geological plates, career paths, even the food pyramid itself, is shifting. Yet I draw so much comfort in what I know. Even the painful things I know, I know them, you know?

These days, I’m teaching some extremely uncooperative and challenged teenage kids, a variety of things about navigating technology, aka, navigating things that constantly change. I was very nervous to take this on, but so many aspects of this experience fit with my vision. At first I said, Universe, this isn’t what I ordered, exactly, and then I said, Yes, anyway.

It turns out that there’s a combination of rigid and fluid that’s working in that kind of a classroom exchange. Consistency, or a framework that one can rest in, makes things feel safe enough to explore, but like our own bone structures, there are lots of options about how to pivot, flex and bend.

So when one kid decides to start singing, ‘don’t hate on me… just because I’m black,’ with a smile and flourish of her hands while I’m trying to teach, how can I be fluid there, go around the challenge, rather than dig in and derail the lesson completely?

Tibetans call this fluidity ’skillful means.’ It’s not commandments or set of rules, but a way of engaging with whatever is arising with curiosity and some creativity. You could call it a way of questioning.

It helps not to take whatever is happening as about me. My student’s song wasn’t about me, it’s just her way of keeping the whole scenario at a distance, loose enough that she isn’t cornered, like she’s been at other times in her life. I can appreciate that she’s got her reasons for doing what she does, most that I’ll never know or understand. Parts of me do that too, by sleeping past a reasonable hour, talking when I might benefit from listening, overdoing rather than resting.

The most useful place I find for this kind of fluid, creative engagement is with myself, first of all.

Yesterday for example, I was agitated. I couldn’t see a reason for it, but the world was pissing me off. So, I went out for a cup of mocha with myself, and tenderly asked in a journal entry, ‘What’s up your butt sweetheart?’ and this whole litany of reasons came scrawling out in the graphite – tender dialogue replaced and diffused the agitation.

It’s been gray, humid, and I’ve had a sinus infection for several days. I’m hungry. The lady at the bank got ridiculously confused and made me late.

So I eat something, and eventually steam my face, and let the singing student use the bathroom for 25 minutes while I taught my class. Not perfection, just movement. (And I didn’t do all those things at once just to clarify).

Someone showed me this video, and it seemed like such an apt metaphor for so many barriers in front of us. I can see myself as the cyclist in the second clip, or the first driver, cautiously investigating. The whole thing can end up being playful, just like this. Enjoy!

Invisible Rope. (Sorry about the ads). Perhaps the invisible rope is what scares us most? How do we approach and engage it? Who are these fellows on the roadside anyway in this metaphor?!

I

engaging joy (and bison)

Eckhart Tolle, strange character that he is, has some profound insights to contribute to our lovely human mess. First I’d just like to take a moment to appreciate that before he became a conduit for wisdom and a best selling author, speaker, the whole gig, everything fell apart for him. So, if you feel in moments like everything is falling apart for you, perhaps there is a fundamental reconstruction underway that right now, looks like just having hammered your thumb.

In other words, things change, and if you can embrace that, you’ll suffer less. That sounds so bleak. So, I’ll shift it around.

Bits and pieces of Eckhart Tolle’s book ‘A New Earth‘ pop up when I listen to music on shuffle. Today, as I work at the computer, he popped up between a rap song from the nineties and a jazz rendition of Smells Like Teen Spirit, to tell me essentially to unfurrow my brow while I work.

Here’s what the man said:
“Joy does not come from what you do, it flows into what you do, and thus, into this world from deep within you. The misperception that joy comes from what you do is normal, and it is also dangerous, because it creates the belief that joy is something that can be derived from something else, such as an activity or thing. You then look to the world to bring you joy, happiness, but it cannot do that.
…
The waiting-to-start-living syndrome is one of the most common delusions of the unconscious state. Expansion and positive change on the outer level is much more likely to come into your life if you can enjoy what you are doing already, instead of waiting for some change so you can start enjoying what you do.
…
Don’t ask your mind for permission to enjoy what you do. All you will get is plenty of reasons why you can’t enjoy it. ‘Not now!’ the mind will say, ‘Can’t you see I’m busy? There’s no time! Maybe tomorrow you can start enjoying.” That tomorrow will never come, unless you can begin enjoying what you are doing now.

…when you enjoy doing something, you are really experiencing the joy of being, in its dynamic aspect. ”

Enjoying the Boring – A suggestion from Tolle:
List mundane, neutral activities you do all the time, like the dishes. Then practice, while doing one of these, paying attention to “..the alert, alive stillness within you in the background of the activity. You will soon find that what you do in such a state of heightened awareness, instead of being stressful, tedious or irritating, is actually becoming enjoyable.”

Enjoying exceptionally bad moments
Now take a moment of financial stress. One of those moments where it feels like a huge stress bison is chasing you and you might die. Perhaps you’ve learned that you owe a huge sum of money you don’t have. What if, in the midst of such a crisis, you did the opposite of run, or even act? It might be like stopping mid flight, turning around to the stress bison chasing you, and asking a question, or introducing yourself.

The question might be, ‘hello bison, what’s your name?’ The bison may change its shape a little bit, and you are engaging awareness. Keep inquiring into its nature and see what you learn. Note if you don’t actually die.

It’s not fun to have to be in that situation, but being alive, these things come up. It’s not personal.

A way I’ve practiced with harder moments, like losing my car keys or finding out a friend has cancer, is to state, in the midst of such a moment, ‘It doesn’t get any better than this’ and then to ask myself, ‘How so, exactly?’ or, alternately: ‘How is this an opportunity?’ (While another part of me says ‘really?‘)

Just like stopping and introducing myself to the bison, these questions are a radical means of getting curious about the situation I want to reject, and to remain open in some way.

Perhaps it turns out to be an opportunity to…

appreciate how funny things are when bone tired
practice asking for help
book a ticket to CA midwinter
simply stop and regroup
feast at a clam stand next to the parking lot and appreciate that I have my wallet
find tender love in my heart with the other feelings
enjoy that my phone works fine
connect with X who just went through this

On the most basic level, all I am given is the moment itself. Am I engaging in the smell, taste, touch, sound of it? Am I tender with various elements of it, and with myself? Am I actually aware of what the person across from me is saying, and what is being said? Of my own feelings?

Engaging the stress bison may yield unexpected things. If nothing else, the mess of things becomes humorous. It dismantles the mechanism of fear and aversion, and behind that, things turn out to be ok. Even joyful.

Half Alive

Recently, I noticed a very fine gray ash blanketing my experiences. Looking into this gritty, unpleasant tone to things, I found it’s a byproduct of working a lot and being three steps ahead of myself. The thought: Once I do this one last thing then it will be enough – was generating the ash. In this frame of mind, my commitment to myself to take a walk in the beautiful day was thwarted by the realization that sunlight hours were over. My satisfaction was funneled into performing, to the extreme, causing color to drain out of things.

It turns out that I am not a machine. It’s been a radical act to re-engage my senses for some part of a day. The day I realized about the ash, I took a different route and went to a cafe I’d never been to, one that friends have been pointing out for years as purveyor of delectable taste and texture. It’s called Sofra, have you been? It was lovely. I was more than half alive that day.

Another brand of not enough is intense multitasking activity: pouring boiling water into my teacup with one hand, while putting bowls away with the other. To the not-enough mind, there’s pride in this. In reality however, it’s both dangerous and a little nuts.

Waiting for all seventeen arms to quiet their activity, I could instead ask, What next? One thing, usually something basic like getting myself a glass of water, will present itself.

The more I ask, the clearer I get the simple directive in response: Put on your coat and go outside, There’s a pattern: The responses that come back indicate actions, they are simple, and they are usually self care.

That kind of call and response is not a figuring out, brainstorming activity. Like, So what should I do next? Well, there’s this and this and this has to happen before that and so…complicated brain activity.

Asking what next and stopping and listen is a question posed to your higher self, your gut, the universe …something that isn’t the organ of your brain. It’s a clearer, higher quality reply.

I’ve also begun to notice that on certain days, I resist these directives intensely. I want the entire agenda before I take one step. In response to
put your coat on and go outside I reply But what if it rains? I don’t have an umbrella with me…
In other words, I resist the simple next indicated action, because uncertainty surrounds it, and uncertainty is uncomfortable.

The more I practice pausing, asking for, and following such directives even when they don’t make sense, the better things go. When I’m not wanting to move, I get the directive to walk across the room for something. When I’m ignoring the fact I have to pee, I’ll stop and ceremoniously ask for the next right action, and I get back ‘go pee.’ And if I keep asking, I keep getting just one step beyond the moment I’m in, a means of re-engaging, bringing with it color, balance, variety, and energy for the stuff that’s meaningful.

DIY
1. When you are under a pile of inadequacy, guilt and obligation – first off, take a breather.

Then, in about say 3minutes, try writing down everything that follows I should… and I have to….

Don’t stop there or you’ll just feel bad.

2. Ask yourself then, for each thing: Is that absolutely, 100% true? Is this really life or death?

If there’s a 1% possibility otherwise, explore it. Write down the counterpoints for each.

2. Now ask yourself, What would you do if you suddenly found yourself on vacation, with time and resources you hadn’t expected? Jot down what delights you. Include stuff you don’t usually get around to doing. Get it all down.

Troll through your best days for details. Make up a splendid day. Lying on a blanket under a flowering tree reading a novel? Making Jell-o? Fabric stores? Model airplanes? A certain town or body of water? Certain meal, event?

3. Pick something from the list and do it, even if it’s a small version of it, as a break between obligations.

There may not be time later to enjoy your life. Can you make a commitment to have some fun today? As a final caveat, if you feel guilty about it (particularly those of us in New England), dedicate your enjoyment to others, and enjoy your choices in their honor.

In relationship

This morning, I want to honor the force of gravity, and how it so reliably, always and ever more, keeps me in relationship. Meaning, always in contact with the ground, with the things I sit on and lean against. The original mother, some say.

And as a mother’s day present to all of you, here’s a loose rendition of my favorite story ever:

The Story of Buddha’s Enlightenment
Siddartha Gautama Buddha had left his regal life, gone to India, contorted and deprived his body, risen through the ranks of spiritual circles, and then left them, asking, is that all there is? I don’t think the bed of nails is doing it [a bit of a paraphrase there]. So, he resolves to sit under a tree until he finds what he’s searching for.

Sitting under this particular tree, things went ok for a bit, like they might during the first few hours of any meditation retreat. Soon though, the bully of bullies shows up, so the story goes. The demon Mara, known to ensare the mind in delusion, also known as the God of Death, was not going to stand for this deviant, under-tree sitting behavior.

To distract Buddha from his purpose, Mara first 1) pulled the fear card: calling up terrifying, hideous situations. Imagine a horror movie you wish you hadn’t seen, something you want never to see, hear or read about, manifesting right in front of you.

At this, Buddha held his seat. The fear subsided.

Mara then tried something else 2) : He pulled the lust card.

Bringing out the most captivating beauties, Mara offers them to Buddha, as the exquisite sensual break that he deserves. I’m sure Mara used all the senses on this one. And again, Buddha is unmoved. Now, that’s challenging for an average person, and we’re told that Buddha was just a human being. He did not have God-like power, but he remained sitting under the tree, and the lust went away.

Mara then makes a third attempt to get Buddha to flinch or react, in the form of 3) a direct challenge.

To set the scene Mara brings out his armies in a full blown shock and awe campaign. He goes right up to the Buddha to claim his seat with these armies as his witness. He roars at Buddha to respond by what right do you sit there beneath the tree. In other words, he’s asking, ‘who the f*k do you think you are?‘ thereby pulling the card of self doubt. The ultimate challenge.

Buddha then does something. He makes one basic gesture. He touches the earth.

Mara and his armies disappear. Buddha sees through everything and awakens.

Buddha goes into relationship, with the ground, the earth, and Mara is knocked off the formidable elephant he was riding, Buddha sees through everything, and is awakened.
His enlightenment came with the gesture of touching the earth.

My nephew, showing me how it's done

I thank the ground under my feet today, as the touchstone of connection to this moment, to myself, my heart and to all of you. Happy Mother’s Day!

read a full account of the buddha’s life

Connecting to ground: related posts

Face Yoga

Next time you’re out on the town, take a look around at people’s faces. I see faces with somewhat permanent looking expressions upon them. Expressions of fear, defensiveness, disdain, determined positivism, and apathy. I’m sure I’ve got my own weird expression default, instantly recognizable to a passerby, but completely unknown to me.

That’s why these days, I get the lead out with a little face yoga: extreme, ugly, contorted, disturbing faces in which all of my facial muscles are given an opportunity to do something other than their usual. I do this generally behind closed doors, by myself, accompanying often with sounds. My favorite go-to moments for face yoga -10 seconds is all it takes (try it right now! )- include:

-waking and stretching in the morning
-before an important phone call when nerves are jangly
-in public bathroom stalls (minus the noises) and when I have an elevator all to myself
-before any kind of public speaking engagement
-when I’m in a particularly bad mood (face poses that fully express the sentiment make it ridiculous enough to move it along)
-just prior to any social event where grace and poise may be called upon.

Officially, some therapies work with facial expression and muscle patterning to ‘de-mask’ from the conditioned face we put on, and gradually freeze into, without even knowing it. in yoga is an actual yoga pose involving an open mouth, tongue out, eyeballs rolled back…lot’s of fun and aside from all of the ancient medical reasons I’m not versed in, a momentary relief from the kabuki of our lives through the versatile tool of your face.

So here’s to you, and any horrible face you may be making right now. May it bring you true, all around satisfaction, a sense of unflagging dignity and fresh possibility.

blahgue

Did anyone else notice a massive shift in activity level in the last month?  It feels as if I’ve been in this winter tunnel and suddenly shooom I’m out in the middle of a bright traffic rotary of activity and manifestation.

The crocuses are shadowboxing their way out of the ground, and we’ve officially sent a notice to the sun announcing the new time is it’s going to rise.   I too, have undug myself and am peeking out, dirt in my hair, quite pale.

In lieu of a lot to say, I have a link to share.  It’s a Ted talk by Brene Brown,

recommended to me by Ron Denhardt, a Thursday retreat buddy at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center. He’d asked me how I was at the end of the half day retreat last week, and I replied, ‘well, it appears I’ve been meditating in part so that people will like me and I will master the art of controlling myself,’ last Thursday. It’s nice lunching with those guys on Thursdays, swapping impressions of our wildly distorted inside stories. I can’t keep track of all those Pali terms they use to describe things like ‘empathic joyfulness,’ however.

Also, in the spirit of being seen and being vulnerable (and a little defensive) I want to officially out myself as being the least together blog-maintainer-contributor in the world, loud and proud!  I’ve been treating this blog like an online file storage system with no log in to bar anyone from stumbling across it, and though it means that no one may be reading this right now, I’m here to say to myself in front of the infinite millions reading, ‘My Lamb, that’s ok – I still love you.’   But, there’s some stuff to read here anyway, right?  What, I’m supposed to have ‘launched’ this thing?  A weekly post? No Way. I welcome any kind or humorous perspective on this state of my blahgue – I will try to weed out your responses from the bots and spam replies – though I still haven’t figured out how.

And now back to our irregularly scheduled programming.

A sponge, the Sun and you.

In astrophysics and in macrobiotics, two subjects I know very little about, there is this concept of expansion and contraction. According to many, this is what our universe does. It’s also what breathing is in a sense. Things give and they take, people relating to one another give and take. As human beings, there are moments of moving forth, and other times to regroup.

A similar dichotomy is fear and inspiration. In fear mode, you might be chewing your nails a little more. If I do this then what if this goes wrong? Why did she say that? What did she mean by that? Why did I then say that? And then she said that other thing. Why did she say that? What did she mean….Aside from a swirling, circular quality, this mind state is one of contraction. In this state, one is like a sponge, trying to absorb meaning, control or security from things outside.

When inspired, you may find your shoulders down a few notches, your spine a little straighter, your exhales fuller and relaxed. This is an expansive state. It is a kind of radiance. It’s like the sun: radiance itself. The sun doesn’t run around, it shines, and its radiance is life giving, one might say. It is magnetic, it is powerful, and grass grows because of it.

When next faced with a decision, you may ask yourself, am I in expansion or contraction right now? Am I in fear or in inspiration? I am biting my nails over this, or breathing out easily?

If you find that it’s the white knuckling of fear, see if you can slow down and not act, or react. See if you can stand in that uncomfortable spot and wait to see what happens next. If you can simply even notice that it’s there, like noticing the sun going behind a cloud, just like that, you can maybe be a little curious about what might happen next, and something may shift.

If you find its an inspired quality, there is likely to be a natural motion toward some action, a simple action, or even just abiding and enjoying. See if you can accept that you feel expansive, and be curious as you take an inspired action. One clue you’re in that expansive mode is you will be less focused on others, in your own body, connected with your own experience and senses. Then, without urgency, actions happen.

A parting thought: both states come with the territory of being alive, and they are not personal. They come and go. If you’re feeling expansive, let that shift too, just lovely, cool sand through the fingers.

Standing One’s Ground

The phrase ’stand your ground’ brings up heroic or confrontational images for me (John Wayne or Matrix bullet dodging for example). In fact, it can be a humble, compassionate and dignified practice without any rules at all.

If a huge gust of wind with some cold rain blew up right into you, standing your ground would simply be to let it roll on through. That gust could be an experience of blame, fear, longing, self loathing, or awkwardness.

Connecting with ground - a good starting point.
Having an actual relationship with the actual ground through the body, and specifically, the soles of your feet, is a nice solid starting place.

In any meditation hall, you’re likely to see some kind of formalized practice of this. It often looks really stupid to an observer: people walking slowly, in a line or circle, until a bell rings and they stop. The practice within that, if you are one of those people, is to begin to notice the point of contact, the basic relationship of putting your foot on the floor, lifting it off, putting it down again. Sometimes the walking can be fast, or molasses slow. Inevitably, the mind kicks up it’s prattle. One can notice this (ie.: blah blah de blah), and then return to the quality of the contact in walking. The whole project in a sense is to get from thinking into the body, into directly relating with the moment through the body.

Usually when i’m in a formalized setting, the mind prattle begins as an analysis of why that person three people up from me is going so slow, it’s like she thinks its all about her…doesn’t she know we have places to go? Hannah! that’s rude. she’s just walking like you. What about my foot pain? Would they let me wear soft shoes in here?…These people! so slow. Damn! that’s judgement again, isn’t it?

When I notice, I can tenderly resume a focus on the basic quality of contact.

That’s one concrete and strangely revolutionary practice behind standing one’s ground.

Standing your ground out in the world.
And then zenly on your way home, perhaps you notice that your windshield is cracked.

Sometimes standing your ground involves not saying anything when every ounce of your being wants to tell someone to fbleep OFF. Noticing gravity in that moment, or your breath going in and out, can make a little resting spot in the midst of that churning. And then things can shift without finding yourself in greater pain.

Other times, standing your ground means to quietly say for the second time, though someone is clearly irritated by your apparent thickness, that you’re still confused and need it explained again. Still other times, anger is the clearest, most honest tone, and the edge you yourself are working in a new way.

Another variant of that is to say what’s true: It’s time for me to go home. or, I’m hungry, I need to eat something. No cloying guilt tones, just the truth. Saying what’s true, and letting it drop. So clean!

Other times, it’s staying with myself no matter how loathsome I appear to myself. It’s like holding the hand of a little kid you don’t particularly want to be around at that moment who is whining or trying to get your cookie.

Noticing the ground is a way of connecting to something greater than me – a reliable, consistent source of support, when everything is wavering and the future is not yet certain. There is no formula, much as I’d like to think so, but sometimes a phrase is the shortest distance back to a fluid and flexible present moment.

Time has love handles

I recently did a ‘time audit’, investigating on the audio book advice of Robert Holden, if I’ve skipped a meal, stayed late, multi-tasked while driving or on the phone, skipped something that I’ve declared essential for my well being at another time.

I often pull off three tasks in addition to driving. (On a bike, I’m more focused simply because I never mastered no hands biking). And secretly, it’s true if I’m honest, I feel more important when busy and multitasking.

The time I’ve saved from all of this deft corner cutting is likely to correlate directly with my compacted and distracted experience of not enough time. Multitasking may ultimately make me late. So why the rush and blur? Perhaps it makes me feel more important or keeps me from what my heart wants me to see, hear or feel. In Holden’s words, busyness can easily become a status symbol, or a mistaken indicator of success.

Sometimes, I like to ask a client, if you were to die within the week, what would you want to do with your next hour? Such a decidedly morbid and un-coach-like angle is merely meant to broaden perspective on time, and on your purpose here.

I was recently reflecting on the theory that at the end of your life, you see clips of the moments of your life in rapid succession. What if, it turns out, the clips that are all strung together aren’t the nice ones, but are of every single time you’ve rummaged for your keys? That would be several months worth of rummaging in my case.

So with lots of cars whooshing by to important places outside right now, I am making a stand to do one, or just one or two, things at a time wherever possible today, so maybe my final string of images will be a better show.

Spring, wait – Summer now.

I was sitting under some blossoming cherry trees in the Arboretum a few weeks ago, one of my all time favorite circumstances in life, and have a few thoughts from that moment to share. Already, the blooms have given way to young leaves.

Looking at these incredibly loaded trees, there’s no way of really catching the point of explosion (maybe with stopaction photography, but not while really being there).
This kind of explosion is quiet, a humble magnificence that is suddenly, here. It’s a total abundance that at some point, if you’re lucky, you notice. Like fireworks in amber.

I keep wanting my silver bullet. That point in life where I know everything is all set. All squared away.

Spring is amazement. It is abundance and beauty to be sure, but it’s also slow – not like a bullet – and not *set* in that it’s still moving into something different.

‘Successes’ may be like that: Moments in which you step back from what’s happened, what’s already arrived, which had built up over time or tipped to the point of noticeability. In those instances there may be no catching the specific moment of success, because its a slow build, a slow, graceful explosion.

Whatever pile of money, reward, assurance, symbol, commitment or release that you may be holding up as a holy grail, the ‘if only’ source of everlasting security and relief, perhaps you can put it down for a moment, and see what that moment right now is actually like. What about it is actually ok, or even ‘not bad’ as they say.

These blooms – there’s nothing secure about them – they are vulnerable to the frost, rain, heatwave and winds, and they will eventually drop.

Can you imagine that these lovely blooms that many of us dream of and pine for in the long winter days, that these blooms are fruition itself: as good as it gets – the great reward – fleeting and easy to pass up and pass by if your mind is elsewhere.

Taking stock of what you have today – matching socks or a brand new home – something nice in the fridge for lunch, that is a way to spend time in the blooms and surplus abundance of your life. When I am satisfied by what I hope is just around the corner, which might not come, which might not fit my image of it if it does, it’s like saying I am incomplete right now, almost ok but not. Would be wonderful but presently I or this life I’ve got, is not making the grade.

It’s a fine balance to strike, but the more I am rooted to the moment I am in, the easier it is to take in what’s lovely, gritty or wierd about it, and then appreciate the parts I appreciate.

And then the colors change, they drop, the leaves push out and its summer.

Comparison and the timing of two fine films

Comparison: to weigh and measure two things to see how they are different and alike, seems like such a rational thing. And yet, comparison is the henchman of self doubt and insecurity. All one has to do is run across a friend on a beautiful day and -ding!-  comparison begins to happen, innocently in the back of the mind:

What they have that I don’t:
a day off, a house, kids, a yard, a boat, a grant…that shirt, a dog, no kids, bigger paycheck, their own hours, a PhD, more friends, true love, big family, small family, blond hair, blond eyes, black hair, black eyes, a car, no car….a better sandwich….

Or, it goes the other way. In the name of being thoughtful, how easy it is to note the gaps, misfortunes, or cautionary tales of others that subtly can put you at ease (think of Tiger Woods or the guy who cut you off in traffic); or, that whistful utterance ‘I just hope he finds someone….’ Poof! an unbidden dose of smug has entered the building.

It’s that one up, one down activity: a flight of well worn stairs that serves only to exhaust, breeds self doubt or self doubt dipped in superiority. The result is a black and white that is hard edged and not much like reality.

Comparison is like pausing two different movies at exactly the same point in time.

Let’s say there’s an incredible movie. It’s got the beauty, plot, suspense, twists – the laughter and tears of an excellent movie. There are characters we love and we hate, maybe one and the same at different moments; it’s inspiring, moving and thoughtful.

And cued up right next to it is another movie, same high quality, but completely different. In and of itself its a masterpiece, but it’s a completely different movie. The timing in one is completely different from the timing in another.

If you paused both of these movies one hour and five minutes in, and compared what was going on, what might you find? In one, there’d be an incredible celebration going on, maybe topped by a night of unparalleled lovemaking. In the other, there might be a solitary person lost on a lonely drive down a rainy road. Ten minutes later, it might be the reverse. Laughter and sun in the rainy film, and an unwanted pregnancy in the place of celebration in the other. Even if you looked only at the cinematography, the shades of complexity and beauty you might perceive in the saddest moments might make it a scene you’d never want to miss.

When comparing myself to someone else, I am attempting to pause the movie of one life and compare it to the same instance in another’s, to get some handle on how its all going. Truly, there are several thousand better uses of my time.

Noting comparison

When next you feel less than (or puffed up), open a few notches of awareness by noting if comparison is happening. You might say inwardly, ah! so this is comparison. It’s as if you became aware while watching a movie, that you’re in fact watching a movie and are not in it. (Hey! I’m watching a movie!) This awareness of comparison is like becoming aware of your own film playing, and it creates a little space from comparing, so things can relax in the mind. In a moment, something else will happen and you can note that too.

Enjoy the springtime show.

And I’ll now send you out with The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World which expresses it best.

Playing Dumb

When I was a teenager, the adults I tended to trust were the ones who were able to say ‘I don’t know.’   In honor of those before me, these days I’m opting to play dumb. On a good day, I forgo the response ‘I know’ for ‘Wait, actually, what do you mean?’ Sample situations where dumbness comes in handy include waking up, brushing my teeth, asking for help, listening to a friend, teaching, being in an unknown situation (aka life), meditating, looking at art, spending time with family.

By dumbness, I don’t mean being a stone wall, ignoring someone, avoiding responsibility, lying or being insincere. You could say it’s being blank, or a happy fool even.  It involves the practice of these behaviors:

• Asking questions that aren’t rhetorical
• Saying ‘I don’t know,’ when I don’t know
• Using fewer words, more space
• Generally being open, like a question is open
• Avoiding superlatives meant to persuade or impress
• Welcoming being new at something
• Allowing for silence, even when it’s awkward
• Using plain language, short sentences
• Letting self and others off the hook often, from perfection
• Admitting fault in a straightforward way when indicated
• Letting the situation – the future – unfold by itself.

Dumbness looks at a situation afresh minus the tangle of assessment, narrative, caveat, and the other straggling mental threads.

Dumbness is being open.

Examples of applied dumbness:

TEACHING

Letting the silence stand until a student is compelled to respond – that I would call being effectively dumb.

MEDIATING

In mediation, as in coaching, the mediator doesn’t solve problems, doesn’t look at evidence, and doesn’t judge: she just facilitates the conversation. She  sticks to the simplest framework that works and lets the content develop on its own.  In this way,  those in dispute move the content themselves, often toward resolution.

COACHING

One client and I agreed to communicate for a few sessions like we were truckers: short, to the point, and in monosyllables. It took us right to the guts of things; the conserved energy brought a renewed power and focus to her insights.

ART MAKING

In my art studio, just arriving and sitting at my table is usually an effective way to begin. Maybe opening my notebook. The appropriate action simply follows when it’s ready to.

WALKING

While walking, just feeling my feet on the ground is another form of basic-ness, literally an experience of dirt or concrete, or bird, gust of wind or blaring horn – these don’t need the running commentary of my inner dialogue.

THINKING

That inner dialogue however, like a dear but neurotic friend, is incredibly hard to shake at times. So when it’s there, there’s generally no use fighting it, just make some space for it as if you’re a kind of a blank, open presence (to some what might appear dumb), and inevitably that dialogue runs out of things to say.

BEING

When I just am somewhere, I just am present there. When I am simply present, the most intricately effective solutions – brilliant solutions, have the space to show up. They are not forced through mental gymnastics – they arise. My thoughts take me away from such presence and basic senses – and as such, they obscure lovely insights.

The very being that you are is the truth.
Yes, you are the truth. If you look for it elsewhere, you will be deceived every time.
-E. Toale

…don’t forget to celebrate in a ridiculous and exaggerated way

When you accomplish something small, like getting an important form in the mail on time, don’t forget to celebrate in a ridiculous and exaggerated way. My personal favorite way to do so is to hum a few bars of Pomp and Circumstance or the Rocky theme song, while in the final throes of completing a task, like for instance, uploading this post. Think of a 14 year old kid on his dirt bike, spastically pumping down the street like he’s in the Bourne Identity: that’s the spirit of what I’m talking about. In dry coaching jargon, it’s called ‘building by immediate success.’

Why do this?

a) Let’s face it, as adults no one else is going to widen their eyes and clap for us like they might’ve when we were small (at least not consistently). Consistent positive reinforcement is a habit strengthened by practice alone, and its an inside job.

b) It’s a lot easier to celebrate someone else’s successes when you’re already doing so for yourself – so its a service to others.

c) The playfulness in such a small act cancels out piety, rigidity and other boring by-products of modern adultness, so you can enjoy your day and others can enjoy you more too.

A more systematic approach is to make a daily list of what you’re proud of, have accomplished, however imperfectly, in the day.

And here’s where I press play…

Living in the wreckage of my imagined future…

My imagined future generally used to involve scenarios of lateness, inflexible meter maids, and dry boiled kettles. I had no idea that I was living with those images born of anxiety on my back, but they were ruling my present moment, every day, for oh about the first thirty three years of my life. The unconscious logic at work went that negatively anticipating outcomes would prepare me for anything and therefore I’d be ready, unflapped. Calm. Instead, I was living the quality of those imagined scenarios in the present. I might have well have stayed in crouch position wearing a helmet.

Expectation v. Intention: Equally unskillful was the iron-fisted determination to have a good day, to BE NICE to that rude person, or to wear a smile at all costs. This is the scary caricature of positive thinking. This is taking an intention and turning it into a white-knuckled expectation: ‘This meeting better work out or else I’ll know that I’m secretly meant to suffer and fail and it will be on your head, universe!’ Ahh, the bargains I’ve made!

An expectation as I’m describing it is rigid and contracted in energy, based in fear. An intention on the other hand, is something open, an imagined possibility I make room for among my practiced pessimisms, and then release. It’s got lots of room for anything to happen, and leaves the future to itself.

An intention is formed in the present moment, and it’s an opportunity to invite in the quality and experience I would choose for myself around a certain anticipated event, so I can connect with that quality, now.

For example, lets say I’m going to coach my favorite derelict teenagers across town, and my small self is dreading it. I’m betting they’ll be sullen or rude, and I’ll feel bad. So that’s the default wreckage I’m imagining for my future.  There’s also the option of expectation (those kids better be nice today, or by God I’m going to quit, or …), and thirdly, intention:

I invite into the present, as simply and openly as possible, a couple of qualities I’d love to experience during my time coaching these kids. An image of myself laughing, which makes me smile to think about. Qualities of ease, inspired and surprisingly sweet exchanges that I’m honored to be a part of. And then I release it, like dropping a pen or chucking a soda can out the car window (in the 70s). And that’s it.

Try it out by asking yourself:

How would I like to feel at the end of this task, phone call or meeting? Use all five of your senses. Turn it into a short mediation or journal about it.

If it feels fraught with unlikelihood, throw in the phrase: I’d be astonished to feel connected to that person, or to have resolved that email issue faster than I thought.

To be sure you’re keeping it open, you can always throw in ‘This or something better!’ at the end.

Music: an antidote to the vultures of doom

As we know, music gets into every crevice, can conjure a musty memory or feeling, or blow out the cobwebs of a disorienting nap.  So why don’t we tap in more often?

Here’s a simple 30 minute means of rebalancing this season, to resume enjoyment when the vultures of doom begin to circle:

Get centered, meaning, sit with your butt on a chair and feel gravity and your breath for a moment or two.  Make some wild faces to release the tension in your face muscles.

Then ask yourself this question:

What quality would balance and nourish me right now?

and this one:

These days, what quality am I most hungry for?

What is that quality like?  what color, texture, smells, sounds, activities, people, foods, inspire it in me?
Let images and impulses come.  Or freewrite it all down without editing or good spelling.

Then make yourself a playlist or cd entitled for that quality:  Buoyancy for example, Ease, Freshness.

Wake up to it, make a date with it while you’re getting dressed.  Whatever it takes to rebalance and nourish yourself.

Why bother?
1. Because it’s a nice first step to changing the world.
2. It’s cheaper than a new haircut.
3. It takes like, 10 minutes.

PS.  When choosing your music, make sure it isn’t a song that tugs you into the past or some dark emotional neighborhood.  As we know, music is a powerful beast, so get some new tunes from friends or itunes if need be.

Tell us!  What are your favorite tunes these day?  What qualities do they inspire for you?

What’s a good bonfire?

Good Bonfire is a reference to the book Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind, by Shunryu Suzuki. To paraphrase it for now, the message is

Whatever you do, burn yourself up completely in it, like a good bonfire.

In other words, leave no trace. In other words, don’t leave strings attached all over the place. For me traces would be: qualifiers, anxious explanations, apologies, nagging doubts, gossip, assessment. Usually, those traces take the form of fear, resentment, judgement.

E.g., the difference between singing, and singing while thinking about how your singing is going, what if you screw up, sound bad, get discovered…

What if how you do is none of your business? Instead, your mind could be on engaging the person, place or thing in front of you. And that’s it.

Be a good bonfire and have a great day.

Rare Air

There are moments when you walk into a room and the air is unlike the rooms you’ve just come from.  When you shake someone’s hand and walk away thinking about the conversation you had, or the simple quality of the exchange.  ‘Thinking about’ is the wrong term here.  Sensing is more like it.

I’m not talking about some pretty face or romantic interest here; maybe it’s a business associate, a family you meet, or a classroom exchange.  Something felt different and worth investigating.  That’s all you need – just that sense.  It’s not a logic or a proof – in fact its the opposite: more of a hunch.  My challenge to you in such a moment is to investigate it.  Take a small action toward that curious encounter.  It might be a phone call, placed first with the intention of learning more and having an open mind.  Or it might be to stop in again next week and see what the next whiff is like.

Thinking about it is generally, in my experience, a way to dull the sense, flatten it.  Another way to lose track of it is to share it more than you’re truly inspired to, if you are at all.  Thirdly, there’s a gestural quality to it, meaning it can’t be held on to, but simply noted. The bold option is to investigate without knowing more, to step toward it and check in with yourself again.  Being an expert, or thinking you know what’s important before you experience it, these are ways to be sure you miss it entirely.

It might be the collaboration, friendship, client or partnership that will guide you to the center of your life.  You can be sure it won’t look the way you thought it would, which is why  it’s worth investigating.

With Affection

to you from Hannah Burr

In a recent session, a client of mine described sitting down and creating something she’d thought about doing for years.  It had seemed daunting and complicated.  It took her ten minutes.  It was a true outward success, and deeply satisfying.  When we looked into it, a key ingredient in her approach had been affection.

I’d like to kick off this very first dispatch to you as a Valentine of sorts, addressing the under-appreciated power of engaging with affection, and how it relates to inward and outward success, as you define it.

Affection is useful
I am finding affection useful in writing, right now.  This is my first blog post/newsletter.  I’m a little nervous about it.  Perhaps I’m thinking about the scary readership, arms crossed, noses in the air, picking apart my punctuation, the rolling of eyes.  This a) makes it hard to write anything b) cancels out my sense of connection or usefulness.  In short, it’s isolating, not fun, and not inspired.

Conjuring Affection melts fear
Instead, I can regard a single reader with affection, someone who, when I think of this person, brings me a soft smile. Writing with this person in mind, I feel connected and something melty happens.  Specifically, my fear melts, I’m actually moved, and the words arrive.  I can regard the topic affectionately, the client that brought it into my awareness, and you, gentle reader, as well.

I also can approach myself  with affection by keeping my expectations low, getting it started instead of getting it right. I am approaching this task affectionately by doing it gently, in stages, and appreciating the progress I make.

In short, by being affectionate with the task at hand, the process and yourself, fear and anxiety diminish and you can simply get on with it.

In action with affection
Try it out:
1.  First ask yourself what you feel affection toward.  Animals, small children, a plant, a cranky grandparent?  Jott down your personal favorites to connect with that affection vibe.  This vibe, when strengthened by use, burns off the less helpful vibes you may carry around.

2. Try thinking of one sweet thing on the list for 30 seconds, see how it feels.

3.  Next identify an albatross task, something you’re dragging your feet on. Will it be seen by others?  Is there an ‘audience’ you’re up against?  If so, find common ground with one or a few individuals in that phantom audience.  Maybe they too have trouble sleeping, get on a chair at the site of a spider, or have trouble spelling ’separate.’

If it’s an object driving you crazy, a computer, or a sock with a hole in it, handle it gently, go get a glass of water as a break, see if you can be regard it with patience, interest, or appreciation. (Note:  When you feel the burn, it’s working!).

Affection is mindfulness
Handling a plate, answering the phone, putting on mittens, or salting your eggs can all be done affectionately:  often it involves slowing down and grounding in your five senses.

Lately I’ve been quietly stating the words “with affection” within myself.  It puts a different spin on whatever situation I’m in.  Try it – on the train, in traffic, on the phone, brushing your teeth…

If a question is more helpful, try “How would it be to do this with affection?”  And that’s it.  Just ask.

Regard yourself with affection
If you’re anything like me, I can be nice to everyone else, and not even realize that I’m beating up on parts of myself like bad radio playing attack ads with static.

Here’s where the real world-changing part comes in.
Particularly on crappy days,
-Treat yourself the way you’d treat a friend in a rough spot.  Better yet,
-Treat yourself the way you’d treat a small child standing there with sloping shoulders looking at the floor.  How would you talk to that kid?

Because the bad radio station plays insidiously, it can take some initiative – a new channel – for things to start shifting.

Try asking yourself a gentle, open ended question.
“What would you enjoy doing in the next ten minutes?” for example.   The key then, is to listen, openly and with curiosity, to the response.

The challenge at hand?  A warm, furry bear.
Maybe not all of you are working with a goal right now.  Those who are may have moments where the approach is like a driven, dog-sled decathalon kind of thing, bleak and striving.

Especially when you’ve given yourself a challenge, remember that you’ll get the very best out of yourself when you’re kind and address yourself, actions, and milestones with a genuine, respectful affection.  Plants thrive when softly pillow talked, why not you? Why not the very source of your dreams and beginnings? No one knows better than you the brand of affection that would be just right.

Happy Valentines Day.  Hannah B and Good Bonfire.

Your Year-In-Review

It’s New Year’s Eve!  The last of the decade, never to be repeated.  I will spare you my own, ‘Hannah’s year-in-review.’  However, it was a wonderful way to while away the snowy morning – scrawling it down, luxuriating in the recollections of my own life after a banner holiday season of three full blown Christmas mornings in a row.  If you’d like some quality time with yourself,  this list-making (or prose if you prefer) venture is low-stakes and high reward.  Also enjoyable with a close friend, or small group if everybody’s in the mood.

In this year, what were your…

soundtracks of choice

favorite books

life changing books

memorable movies and shows

sweet and savorable moments

what is new to your life and your routines that was not in place last January

hardest moments, and what strengths you brought to them

what you choose to take away from them, and what you choose to leave behind

pivotal events in your year

new friends, communities, people in your life this year

things (also people and places) you’ve let go or that are no longer in your life

memorable meals

trips not to be forgotten

important choices in this year

new tools and skills in your ‘toolkit,’ spiritual, professional, or other

people you may be ready to forgive

people you’d like to acknowledge or thank

what you’re celebrating today, thanking yourself for, grateful for

what this year has taught you

experiences and qualities you want to bring with you to 2010

what you’re willing to consider leaving behind

It’s snowing out, it’s cold here in Boston, but in six months, what might you possibly be entertaining?  What is it that you would delight in, what might have moved on past?  Use all of your senses here.

This life experience is strangely collaborative.  In working with others, and in my own life, I’ve seen this time and time again.  If I name the things I love, would love to experience, and then offer them up or throw them over my shoulder like salt for good luck, I am showing up and making space in my life for them.

So I’ve started this massive year in review list, and I now plan on looking into what might be delightful, just for me, to encounter, to experience more of.

If all this ruminating makes you antsy, then open a closet and make some room for what you’d love to welcome in, starting with the concrete reality of your stuff.

And thank you very, very much for being a part of my 2009.  I’m honored to have you as part of this year, and look forward to further adventures in the next.

with love,

Hannah B (aka Good Bonfire)

The Good Bonfire Guide to Being Alive and Well at Holiday Time.

At the Holidays, whatever is happening, it’s also shifting.  The best way to use this guide is to scan and read whichever item feels most relevant, and spend five minutes with it when you’re feeling in a fog, tangle, or in overdrive.

1.  Routine is grounding. Flossing, if that’s your thing, wiping down a counter, and bigger commitments in your life can often be maintained:  a gym visit, reading before bed, yoga – it might be in a different town or with guests – but you can get creative with remembering you’re still in the middle of your own life this week.  When you get out of routine, well, simply resume.

2.  Acceptance. We’re still messy human beings at the holidays, despite what the shop windows tell us.  Beauty is somehow in the middle of this fractal mess, not arrived at in battle with it.  Perfection and human love aren’t really even cousins, I’m learning – they appear to be on different planets.

Self Acceptance includes letting feelings arrive, including loneliness, and giving them some pastureland in your heart.  They aren’t personal, but they will keep knocking more and more loudly if locked out.  Sit with them by the fire, and they will soon either be on their way or sharing their insights with you.  Loneliness can strike in a room full of people you love – it’s not personal, it just happens sometimes.

3.  Self care + simplicity = apply chapstick. Or make the bed.  If you’re hair feels on fire with stress, consider the big guns:  a bath, a walk, make a list of how you show yourself love, the real kind, not the (substance related) kind that leaves you with regret when you’re finished.

4.  Pause. Take a moment to see if you have both gloves before leaving the restaurant.  If rattled by jarring circumstances, get thee to a bathroom and let your shoulders drop.  Pausing can be 20 minutes to lie down, read a lovely book, or concentrate solely on a cup of tea.

5.  Set intentions. On the drive over, in the morning, the night before.  When the visit, day, hour is over, ask “what do I want to feel grateful for?”  Name qualities you’d like to feel, textures, surprising or astonishingly easy experiences:  what would that be like?  Be sure to focus on your own experience, not the behavior, thoughts and feelings of anyone else.

6.  Slow it on down. If you think something will take an hour, plan for two hours.   Be honest and generous with your time estimates, and there will be no apologies later. Also, connect with your physical senses when there’s discontent brewing, notice the textures, contacts, smells, sounds, and you will re-present yourself in alignment with the moment you’re in.

7. Give what you value. First you want to be clear on what it is that you value and prize.  Where you find it, experience and express it.  And then how you can share it with others.  I’m not talking stuff here, I’m talking the ingredients for delight, contentment, laughter, etc.

8.  Keep your expectations low and stay open to delight from any corner. Probably, people or circumstances that have been a certain way for all time will not suddenly change, so it’s a waste of energy in my experience to hope for that.  (See item number two).  Conversely, if I’m convinced that someone will never ever be different, I’m also shutting myself off to other possibilities.  I can practice acting as if change is possible, while accepting people/things as they are.  That includes me and my own foibles.

9.  Know thyself (and sugar and alcohol): Part of self care includes checking in with oneself.  For instance:  Dear stomach, what would you delight in right now?  My only body, what would nourish you? Are you even hungry?!  If you leave it all up to your eyes and taste buds, you’ll get a different story entirely.  Work as a team on this one, and you’ll find yourself crashing less, having more energy, and your blood will circulate freely and with grace right into the new year.

10. Communicate, tenderly. Let relevant parties know in a simple and neutral way when you’re feeling pulled, stressed, (having a sugar crash), uneasy, whatever is going on.  If the feelings are strong, take yourself out of a situation to recenter, and then share this quietly, without an expectation of a particular response.  It will help those around you and ground you as well.  They won’t have the answers, but you will be more present, accepting and in reality which is a real service to those around you.

11. Ask for Help. In New England?  No Way! A great way to ask for help is with the full understanding and openness to someone else saying Yes!  I will help you and also, the equally valid  No, I’m unable to help you at the moment.
Maybe it’s with wrapping.  Perhaps it’s sharing the cooking load.  Perhaps it’s calling a friend to see if you can come over, or if they have time to talk for a few moments.  There’s no telling what a gift this kind of honesty can be to another.

12. Give thanks. In any circumstance, there is some cause for giving thanks.  That I have all my limbs or that I’m wearing clothes in public.  These are causes for celebration, and not necessarily givens.  There’s always something I can appreciate, and doing so resets my perspective, fills my own reservoirs, and things again feel workable.

13.  There are 12 million shades of gray between black and white. There are more creative possible alternatives, subtle shifts and flexible outcomes than may feel possible.  If you’re willing to not know for the moment, to flex and bend a little, while keeping in touch with what you’d love, how you feel and what would bring balance, graceful outcomes sometimes result.

14.  If you’ve got a lot of people around, take a secret break. This is not the Olympics.  Its just a holiday.  A full explanation, or getting permission is often not as necessary as one might think.  Secret errands are par for the course around this time, and it’s ok to sit in a cafe alone for a half hour, or choose a walk alone to clear your head.  No one has to know!

15.  If you are alone, you are in good company. Take this list and if inspired, work deeply with it.  It’s simply guideposts for reconnecting with the present moment, the only place where love, solution, inspiration consistently show up.