My Tent on The Beach

The start of school.  There’s nothing like it, although it never feels real until 1) after Labor Day and 2) after the weather starts to act like fall.  But regardless, I’m teaching 5 days a week this Fall (a tremendous increase from what I was doing last year) and I’m just really happy about it.  And relieved, actually.

The longer I’m in grad school (and it’s getting very long…this is the start of my 6th year) the more real the toll of working solitarily starts to take hold.  Writing is an isolating process–alone with my ideas all day–and I’ve noticed an interesting phenomenon when it comes to writing–it actually makes me a fragile person.  I’ m moody and emotional.  I’m restless and discontented.  It’s taken a long time for me to realize that this isn’t something I’ve become totally; it’s only who I am when the overwhelming weight of this “dissertation” takes hold.  And as it turns out, teaching is the natural counterpoint to writing.  Through it I personally find a great balance.  It is therapeutic…and not in a needy sort of way.  It’s the space I need to synthesize things.  I think it’s the best of both worlds when both student and teacher can benefit from the experience.  Things “get done.”

I also happen to be teaching at 8am on MWF, so that means a lot of early mornings are in my future.  There was a time I would be less than thrilled with that proposition…and I am epically tired today (the 2nd day of school) because I still can’t make myself fall asleep in enough time to get in the recommended 8, but eventually exhaustion will take over and I’ll get to where I need to be.  But the thing with mornings is that it’s really the best of myself.  Though I always thought I was a night person, I think I’m actually a very, very early person.  It’s the time when the weight and worries of the day haven’t formed yet…I’m very clear (surprisingly clear) at that hour.  It’s been a nice discovery.

So far, I’m into both my classes at two different schools and I can’t deny the fact that this turn of events…going back into the classroom…has been nothing short of a godsend.  This will be exactly how this dissertation gets done.  I’m committing it to writing so that every time I get coerced to think about another way I can return here and remember this.  For good.

I’m a teacher.  And with students is where I need to be.

The funny thing about insight is that I can have it firmly in my grasp one moment and the next thing I know it’s poof, gone.  What the hell?

Today I want answers.  I’ve been trying (and actually succeeding) about being more Zen about accepting what’s coming at me and living with decisions and, while I vaguely remember that, the actual content of those insights is incredibly gone from my head.  It feels like I’m back at square one today.

And here’s why.  This always happens to me.  At the point I was having insight, everything was theoretical.  No changes happening.  Today the changes are real…I’ve hit those “markers” of time that I set weeks or days ago and now it’s real.  Before it was an idea.  Today it’s anxiety.  I guess it’s good to have the insights first…at least I can harken back to them and no matter how crazy they sound now, at least I know I thought them and that I do possess the ability to think them again…if I try…real hard.

Change is hard.  Uncertainty is hard. Working to fight a knee-jerk panic reaction is very hard.  And while I know that what’s transpiring here today–school-related, friend-related, me-related–will absolutely work out in the end…

…today it feels not good.  And the challenge is working through…

My horoscope continues to be right on. And it’s starting to really creep me out.  But, in the weirdest way, I’m learning an interesting lesson.

My horoscope has magically discussed the fact that there’s been a friendship in negotiation over the past week.  This is true.  It also commented on the fact, last week, that I shouldn’t question the change; all would be for the best in the end.  I seriously agreed with that and, frankly, it was what I needed to hear…desperately…thus, I’m willing to listen to my horoscope to hear it.  I know it’s the right thing but in that moment in which the questions happen, it’s hard to keep a firm grip on that.

However, the commentary this week has turned to accepting the distance and letting go of worries about it.  That it’s the space between in which growth happens.  I agree with that too but, once again, I’m thrust (yes I used that word) up against one of my greater fears.  I would love the ability to go ahead and get lifetime guarantees on friendships.  Just sign on the dotted line, thank you, and I’ll be good to go.  Without that to question, I could conceivably proceed happily through whatever comes my way.

Of course, that’s completely untrue…in all cases, forever.  I’m completely aware that lifetime guarantees–even on material things–are a red herring.  We never can assume anything will be forever…in fact, Tom (my guru of sorts) constantly says to me “Everything will fall apart.”  It’s inevitable that things will just always change.  And if I really sat down to think about it, I’m not sure I’d want a lifetime guarantee on anything…because it only supposes what I know right now to be true.  And I’ve actually experienced the joy and wonder (and also scariness) of watching my entire world upturned in about one second.  We cannot guarantee the permanence of anything in this world…because this world itself isn’t permanent…and that’s good.

Because I can say that, I do wonder why I continue to want permanence.  I know I can’t have it, it’s not realistic, and that I really don’t want it…and yet in this moment it would be so nice to have…or so I think.

I think I’ve confused stability for permanence…and that’s be absolutely nothing but trouble.  I have stability; my day to day life is just as predictable as everyone else’s.  I can take comfort in that, just like everyone else.  And when I do, and let go of that idea of seeking something permanent, I can and do breathe better.

But what came into clear relief for me when I did accept my own stability is that I’m not necessarily happy with what I see there.  I think my problem is not permanence but contentment and that means only one thing:  time to clean out the closets (the figurative ones…although the real ones are often a sign of the figurative) and get proactive in getting the kind of stability I want.

With space comes the room to move.

Time to move.

Confession: I pay attention to my horoscope.

I know, I know.  It sounds awful.  In the best possible light it can be it sounds new agey and crunchy-granola-esque.  On the worst side, it just sounds like I’m giving weight to pure hokum.  I have no answers for you; there’s just something about it I’ve found fascinating for years.  I probably don’t consider it totally out of whack just because a whole portion of the ancients (the ones we like to forget existed like the Egyptians and Incans…the tribal folks) had it work for them.  It only doesn’t make sense in the post-Enlightenment world which embraces scientific rationality.  And listen, it’s based on the stars and their natural cycles through their orbits…so it’s the same brand of hokum as biorhythms and some of the more Eastern practices of medicine and wellness.  It’s a spirituality which Christians can be awfully judgy about.

Anyway, this is not intended as apologetics for astrology.  I don’t base my life or decisions on it–the same as I don’t pray for financial stability or seek answers to very practical questions in church.  BUT, I do find comfort in it sometimes and today’s really works for me.

Earlier I wrote about the Inevitable.  I still stand by everything I said.  But it’s funny how time further and further away from a moment of intensity or renegotiating or the inevitable becomes more tenuous.  In the moment, I had a grip on what was going on.  It’s been a couple days now since that intense moment and the grip is gone and I’m alternating between frustrated and angry, between hopeful and despondent.  I’ve found some comfort in distraction but distraction is a tool of the Hunker Mentality.  “Just don’t think about it,” you tell yourself…and nothing gets solved…you just wait for the feeling to pass without really feeling it. Experiencing the inevitable introduces other inevitables…ones you hadn’t thought about…and all of those are changes.

So, in yoga this morning I was asking the Great Expanse for some answers…guidance actually.  And what came back to me was: Don’t Question it.  Stop asking questions.  Stop trying to find answers.  Just be with it.  Truly, I was overjoyed hearing thing.  It made sense and felt good–a rare combination–because I think it taps into a Truth we can lose track of: thinking there are answers is a ruse.  There aren’t answers about the future; all we have is now, which, if we’re experiencing it, is being answered now. No need for questions.  I felt a wave of relief, hanging out there in Warrior I, a wave of power and resilience.  “I can not question it,” I breathed to myself. “Yes, I can…Si se puedo.”  And then I walked off the mat, out of that studio, and lost the moment.  Lost the magic.  Questions, questions, questions for miles around.

So, here’s the kicker about my horoscope today.  I came to school to get some work done and enjoy some AC (as it’s back up near 90 again today here in tropical Chicago) and as I sat down at the computer I just thought to myself, “I need a little inspiration.  I’m not sure where to find it.”  Of course, as part of my “I’m going to think about writing” ritual, I checked Facebook for all the good dirt and my daily horoscope was there. Lo, it said:

The stormy arguments and narrow attitudes that have been coloring your home or working world come to an end soon; and all because you finally put some healthy boundaries in place.It’s a day when logic and pragmatic decisions need to take priority. After the day’s work is complete, a little self-indulgence is in order. A confidence that no matter what happens today, it will all work out for the best. Having some faith in yourself and others is exactly what will make that come true. Any long term plans with your partner that will benefit you both in the near future is best worked out together today, rather than as a surprise.

Surprisingly, it’s what I needed.  Because this whole week has been about making boundaries (even the syllabus I’m writing for my culture class is filled with discussions of creating boundaries and why that’s important).  And the second part was my realization from yoga today; while I don’t have “a partner” necessarily, my life is shared in a lot of directions.  It was a relief to read it; whether or not it’s “true” or “predictive” (which I don’t think it is), I felt vindicated in my insight this morning, which is really all I needed.  A little validation from the Great Expanse itself.

Thanks Great Expanse.  And by the way, when did you get on Facebook?

I spend a lot of time on “waiting:” I myself wait for things to transpire, for people; I reflect on whether or not I should wait; I wonder if waiting ever does any good.  Given the number of years I’ve felt like this has become a kind of mantra, I’m becoming convinced that waiting is more a symptom of a particular kind of worldview as opposed to action.  Waiting almost seems antithetical to action; it’s non-action; it’s….waiting.

As I get older (and one would hope wiser…which I always think is the actual purpose of thinking about age at all–as a mark of life experience) I’m beginning to see waiting less as a courteous gesture on my part (I’ve always approached it like, “I’ll just sit here and wait til you get your shit together…don’t you worry about me.”) and more of a hunkering down–steeling myself against whatever kind of roiling storm is headed my way.  The bigger the storm, the harder I hunker.  I have a “wait it out” mentality…and I think I always have.  It’s how I’ve made it through just about every phase of my life.

But I think I’m becoming a cautionary tale for the hunker mentality; I have a really horrible relationship with the inevitable and as long as time is the mode by which our lives play out, inevitability is always going to be there.  The truth will out in the end…always…(by the by, I’ve never quite understood the grammar on that phrase yet this is how it’s used…a question for the ages).  And actually, when I push past what is a debilitating hunker impulse, I’ve watched the experience of inevitability work itself out.  Or at least present new opportunities that appear to materialize out of thin air.

This reflection is brought to you by the letter “I” and a conversation I had with a friend yesterday.  It’s a conversation that’s been long overdue…as I count it, it’s been about a year and a half since things have been “right.”  We’re both hunkerers so the unbearableness of the present was enough for me to finally draw a line in the sand and polish off my dueling pistol; said friend showed up with dueling pistol in hand…it was bigger than I expected. And thus I was swept into the inevitable, partially by my own hand and partially by the wake of my dueling partner’s efforts…and I couldn’t stop thinking, “This is it; the moment I’ve been dreading…I didn’t think it would look like this.”

It wasn’t an easy day.  It won’t be an easy week.  After that the stings that are there will fade.  My new reality will become “every other day” and everything will resume forward motion at its own pace and with new questions daring me to find new answers.  But in the midst of all of that, I couldn’t stop thinking two thoughts: I didn’t think it would look like this and How did this happen? I’ve felt alternating waves of guilt, then anger, then a simple old-fashioned giving in.  I kept wondering if the hunters and gatherers ever came to this point.  Inevitability was at my door and I just had to let it come in.

I didn’t think it would look like this. And today, it’s not a bad thing.  That’s the weird part about this inevitability; I can breathe today in a way I haven’t for a long time.  I can focus on what I need to do to get my work and, in a lot of ways, my life on track, a focus that was falling by the wayside. But mostly what’s missing is the worry associated with “what will happen when the inevitable comes?”  I’ve seen the inevitable…it was at my door…and in that moment it was okay for it to come.  And with it it brought Hope, Opportunity, and Peace of mind.  Also in it’s entourage were Hurt Feelings and Bruised Ego; those guys are nothing but trouble so I asked them to go. I can still see them poking their heads up over the windowsills, trying to peer in.  At least they can only look.

I’ve spent some quality time with Inevitable and I think there might be a spark of something there.  I didn’t offer him a beer or pull up the coffee table so he could rest his feet. But then, he didn’t ask for it.

Maybe someday.

I often walk down the street wondering if people think the same thoughts I do.  Clearly, not the exact same thoughts so much as the types of ideas.  I’ve come to a point in my life that is not a crossroads so much as it is a need for clearing out.  I cleaned my room (I was trying to think the last time I had a clean room and, with the exception of a couple days, I think I’ve never had a clean room).  I’m filing and organizing all of the shit that’s accumulated on my desk for the past, oh, year.  I’ve been asking myself everyday as I walk to and fro, “What, exactly, do I want to do…today, this week and year, this…life.”  As far as I’m aware, I’m on my 4th mid-life crisis.  And I actually think that’s okay.  I don’t trust people who seem to know exactly what they’re doing; that to me is always a sign of a lack of introspection.  And it’s because I’m realizing for the first time, truly, that it’s hard work to just be who you are; it’s really so much easier to just be who everyone thinks you are.  And then you can go home and watch Burn Notice and no one will bother you.

It’s the same conundrum I find in yoga literally every day.  It’s so much easier to jam yourself into a complicated pose, hold your breath, and wait out the pain for a minute than to find ease in whatever it is you’re doing.  I’m fascinated by the fact that the simplest poses–mountain pose (standing with your feet together, hands at your heart), seated cross-legged pose, forward fold–are really very hard to master.  Because they are “easy” poses–ones that require ease…one’s we often don’t have enough time–or courage–to really do correctly.  And I think it’s because they require introspection, they require quiet and a commitment to looking for what’s really in there when all the flashiness of complicated, complex, and achievement-driven falls away.  These poses are who you are when you’re standing, sitting, and folding.  Seems like they would be the resting poses; I am wasted by them repeatedly.

This is what makes me wonder what other people think as they walk down the street.  They look so self-assured so many of them.  And they’re going so fast and with so much stuff. The clacking cadence of heels, the amble of a dog walker, the unsteady gait of the grocery-laden–they’re going somewhere, they’re doing something–what are they thinking? Because as I’m flip-flopping toward home at what, for some, seems an uncomfortably slow pace…I’m thinking about what it means to be me today.  Maybe my pace reveals my lack of answers or the burden of the question…but that’s okay.  Because I don’t trust the quick clackers or the scurrying laden ones.  Industriousness, to me, says distraction. I’ve known a lot of fast walkers in my life; to this day I’m not convinced that any of them really knew where they were going. I think I’m judging them; wait, yep, I am.  That’s okay, too. It’s not like I haven’t been judged for my snail’s pace…I’ve actually been yelled at.  Water under the bridge, I suppose.

But I always feel solidarity with slow walkers.  I believe in my soul that the weight of the thought determines the ease of the walk…and I’m working hard to walk with as much ease as I can muster. Wherever I’m going will just have to wait.

This is what the world can look like if you let it.

I’ve been really scattered lately.  Sometimes I notice that when my blog entries fall of it’s for usually one of two reasons: either I’m overwhelmed by ideas and can’t decide which one to pick that day OR I’m underwhelmed by my entire life and I’d rather stab my eyes out with hot chopsticks than keep thinking about it.  Thankfully, the recent problem has been the former. My brain has actually been “whizzing” around…stuff’s getting started and I’m thinking in 27 directions.  In the past I would just consider that busy; but I’ve actually been having inspiration in 27 different directions…thus the Thousand Points of Light. That’s a literal reference.

I think I’d be robbing you of the experience if I didn’t include a couple gems just to illustrate my point:

*I’ve been thinking all day about the dream I had in which I met Bernadette Peters at my local McDonalds for lunch.  Then we met Elaine Stritch across the street at Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee.  I’ve spent hours just on this one dream.  I’m both fascinated and a little proud that these women are in there.  Nice.

*I had a “breathing” realization the other day; all the time I think I’ve been breathing deeply…I actually had about 1/4 more room than I thought because I was holding my neck muscles so tight.  So now I’m really breathing deeply and I wonder what all that extra oxygen is doing to me.  Maybe the thousand points of light I’m seeing are actually warning me that I’m ready to pass out from over oxygenation.

*I was talking with Anna, my jewel of a yoga teacher (Anna Schabold, YogaNow North…check her out), today after class and she said the most amazing thing: that we experience the world physically and mentally and emotionally at the same time. [Pause for mind blowing.] I realized I’ve worked pretty hard to separate the two out.  So, every time I’ve experienced pain caused by my physicality (whether it be spraining my ankle or being rejected because of my physical being), I’ve only just “shut off” or isolated the pain.  You rehab the ankle or strengthen the tendon, but what do you do for the emotions that come with that?  I’ve done zero.  Thus, today I’m a mess.  Similarly, when I have emotional or mental stress (this &#*$ing graduate degree), I isolate it there and forget about the physical toll.  It was actually the latter that led me to yoga (b/c my hips and shoulders were killing me) but I think the bigger work that lies ahead for me is reconciling all of the pain my physical body has caused…and releasing it.  I shake like a leaf when I’m doing yoga…huge trembling waves…(it actually looks totally nuts…like a giant muscle spasm)…and Anna’s always like, “don’t come out of the pose…the trembling will stop…it’s energy being broken up and being released”…and by god if it doesn’t stop eventually.  Then of course, my muscles are burning like a raging fire, but no more trembling…and that’s when the work can really start. Anna and her crazy forrest yoga are changing my life. That’s like a supernova point of light.

*I want to Feng Shui my apartment.  Turns out that’s easier said than done as I can’t control the layout of the windows and doorways which apparently is central to the whole thing.  However, I’ve spent time Feng Shui-ing my bedroom and, as crazy as it sounds, I feel better.  I do.  I’m trying to comprehend this change while still trying to figure out how to reconcile all the dairy I eat which, supposedly, blocks energy.

*I saw the move Inception Friday night and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s the rare movie that caught my imagination and will not let go.  Now I walk around wondering if people are trying to plant thoughts in my dreams.  Maybe Bernadette and Elaine aren’t so random after all.  Maybe they’re using inception to suggest I need to go to New York and see them together in that show.  Or maybe, they’re telling me that McDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donuts ain’t so bad after all.  Either way, I’ll tell ya, if Thomas Hardy is the one behind the inception, he can root around in my dreams all he wants.  That, in itself, is a dream.

See.  That’s just 4…I have hundreds of these ideas running through my head all at once.  But they’re positive, so I’m not going to work especially hard to quiet them down. It’s sometimes nice to see light, even if it is whizzing past my eyes in the style that the “Big Wheel” on the Price is Right whizzes around (thankfully, my thoughts don’t make that beeping noise or I’d go permanently insane).  I’ve been futz-ing around in the dark so long that I can say for sure that futz-ing in the light…infinitely better.

I just installed a showerhead.  I’ve been waiting anxiously for it to come in the mail, having picked it out months ago and waited until it was on sale enough that I could “afford” this “luxury.”  I’m most excited about the fact that my skin won’t smell like chlorine after a shower anymore.  And that was my Friday night.

It’s that part of the summer, that part of the year, that part of the week, I guess, when people are doing their “summer” things–traveling, barbecuing in the backyard, spending quality time that they don’t often get–that usually leaves me installing a showerhead and calling it an evening.  I suppose it’s the price I pay for being non-busy, non-married, non-with-children, maybe non-inspired and hoping for something outside of myself to create a little interest or buzz or energy.  I’m not sure why I still think this will work; looking outside of myself for anything has only ever ended in disaster.  And so I lay here on my couch, trying to pump myself up to watch a movie and wondering how I get myself some of those things that make installing a showerhead a weekday chore to be reminsced about over a gin and tonic on the back porch with someone who’s interesting and interested.  It doesn’t seem like that much to ask but yet remains deceptively elusive. Maybe someday there’ll be a trace of this scene.

But not today.

I want to make it okay that this is what this evening holds…but it’s not just about this evening.  I often wonder if anyone ever remember how it feels to hear some iteration of “I’m too busy for you,” when they’re saying it to someone else.  I’ve just never understood this idea.  “But Katie,” they’ll say, “you just don’t understand because you have so much time and you don’t have responsibilities to worry about.”

“Well,” I think, “that’s just the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.” It appears I have a lot of time because I make time for people who need to talk, people who want to get together, people who need a hand with something, people who need a place to stay.  I bend and compromise; I practice understanding and compassion; I wipe my feet before entering; I bring a bottle of wine; I’m good for a laugh.  But it just never seems enough.  Because when push comes to shove, I just don’t understand enough what it means to have responsibilities–or relationships–to care for.  It’s only the thing I do every day…silently and with no symbols or markers to signify my work or care.  No. My work is silent and invisible and I should be happy for the time I do get…

…because after all…people are busy…and I have so much time.

I’m sick about it.

I haven’t ranted in awhile.  I think it’s because I’ve been trying to get my Zen on…which has been working splendidly and I live in fear of jinxing it, so I try to curb the rants.  But I just cannot let this one pass by and so I must, I must, I must increase my…honesty with a certain group of people of the world.

Far be it from me to decry another’s blogging efforts.  But I think we have to be realistic. Blogs are inherently self-serving; you’re either writing it for yourself to read or others to read.  But when it becomes understood as a service to others…that’s where I’m gonna go ahead and call 2 minutes for self-righteousness.  And you know who’s totally the worst offenders of this right now?  Blogger moms.

Now before your hackles get all up in my grill, just take a deep breath and listen.  I’m not talking about all blogger moms.  Frankly, I don’t read moms’ blogs in general because, well, why?  I have to deal with your annoying kids in reality…why would I want to read about them too?  I’m talking about moms who appoint themselves the mistresses of all things healthy, lively, fun, and energetic and then try to pass this off as a service to the world.  My issue begins with one blog in particular (which…no, I will not name…I do have some shame) but in glancing through her blogroll, I know there are others just like her hawking their special brand of “clean and healthy family living the right way.” My ultimate favorite part about all of these is their, “well, this is how I do it, but it may not be right for you” tone; “I choose to make organic whole wheat carrot and cucumber muffins from scratch every morning to feed my kids because I know they’re worth it.  But if you have to go with pop-tarts and Tang, I get it; we moms work hard.”  Oh my dear god. I actually started laughing at the last article I read on her blog which broke down why getting vegetable-fed beef is better for you.  The information was impressively good and very useful…and then came the discussion of how to go about obtaining such a thing for your family.  I’ll just summarize the whole thing by saying “the internet” and “your local farmer” were the strongest options.  I my childless self live in an urban center.  It goes without saying, I’m not real familiar with my “local farmer.”  This leaves me with…the internet…to buy beef.  What’s going on here.

My issues with discussions that happen in this particular manner stem from two points.  First, they REEK of privilege.  The right way becomes the way in which only families who have enough money–and moms who have enough time–can actually live.  I found in thoroughly systematic but completely NOT surprising that there were never any adaptations made (like in the composting article) for 1) apartment dwellers, 2) urban dwellers, 3) and people who aren’t highly literate (composting is not an activity for imbeciles…you gotta know about living stuff and shit like that).  Recipes offered…not easy and often involving ingredients you can’t pick up at the corner big box grocery store (which, sad to say, is where most of us HAVE to shop for one reason or another).  Let’s not even talk about the fact of needing special appliances.  One article on juicing (suggested as the better way to get all 8 servings of fruit per day) didn’t mention that…you need a juicer.  And that corn-fed beef you buy from the “local farmer”…right…they don’t sell that in 1lb increments…you need a whole freezer to store the side of beef you’ll end up buying (and a minivan to haul it).  The article on switching from white bread to wheat bread you bake yourself (from flour you mill yourself) provided a recipe that required a bread machine.  If you don’t have one of those, I hope you have about 3 hours to devote to the process.

Aside from what I’ll call these plausibility issues, there is that kind of normative decision made for us all (and by us I mean “women” because the men are out bringing home the bacon and running 10Ks) in each of these articles.  They do, in fact, give us a nice, neat, pin-tucked set of values to use in judging ourselves successful and valuable…there’s always kids involved and they are usually picky eaters who have to be contended with; the word “organic” comes up more often than not; there’s always “noshing” involved; bright colors and attitudes to match seem de rigeur; eliminating dairy are very important; networking and self promotion seem oddly written into the underside of the surface of everything; let’s not even talk about the “greening” of everything–apparently moms are the new Al Gore; there’s a lot of baking involved and “fast food” are 4 letter words to the power of 2; “health” is their god.  And they’re all “consultants” of something (I have to believe they’ve been promoted from within…their own happy company of one).

Bottom line: this is the production of “mom” and “family” that rivals that of Betty Crocker–this one today is just greener and more organic and even more impossible for most women (and dads and families) to achieve.  Sadly, the moms I want to know about don’t have time to blog or probably the money to explore Whole Foods (which my friend rightly refers to as “Whole Paycheck”).  And my guess is they don’t know their “local farmer” either.  And because of that, they’ll never be successful…because the “Consultant Moms” say so.  It’s actually a little socially gross…like your colon is metabolically gross after you’ve eaten grain-fed beef all your life (according to the excellent article noted above).

If they really wanted to provide a useful service to the world, Consultant Moms should take 30 minutes to sit in their Lulemon yoga pants in their perfected half-lotus pose and think about how they’re actually destroying “family” by writing about theirs.  Then just go and live a happy life in whatever form that takes and leave the rest of us to do what we’re doing…no services–or self righteousness–required.

But what do I know…I don’t have a husband or kids…so technically I’m not even a woman.

Today is one of those days.  You know the kind…my brain is just churning out a lot of thoughts that are good but really disjointed.  So, for instance, as I was waiting for my post-yoga raisin toast to prepare itself via the magic toaster this was my train of thought:

I wonder why yesterday the toaster burned the toast and today, without touching the toaster or doing anything differently, the toast is perfect? Where did I leave my flip-flops? I wonder if an all-girls high school education actually made me more masculine than many men I know? I should take a shower. Almost done with IRB. That breeze is cool. I wonder how other people experience pain?

Literally…that was in two minutes.  I walked home from yoga this morning; it took about 25 minutes and I had a lifetime’s worth of conversation with myself.  Going in 25 directions.  Whenever this happens I feel the distinct need to write everything down as quickly as possible.  There could be good nuggets of something in there which only time will reveal.  But despite this mental chattering, there was one thought I kept coming back to, I think because it didn’t originate in my brain.

In the 2 or 3 moments in between crazy shooting thoughts, I actually felt compassion.  I’ve been reading this book by Pema Chodron called The Places that Scare You and I assumed it would be a lot about fear.  It’s actually more about the opposite of fear, which as it turns out, is compassion.  Who knew?  Maybe this is where I’ve gone wrong all these years. Here’s a picture just in case you want to read (and you really should…what else are you really doing?)

Anyway I usually don’t feel ideas; I think about them, dissect them, think more about them, start to worry about them, get anxious about them, then am exhausted and can’t sleep.  That’s usual.  But, I’ve really been working on “heart opening”–I interpret it more as willing myself to feel things rather than approach them intellectually.  It’s given more dimension to my ideas; we all think a lot about love or anger or hurt.  We ultimately want to manage them, so we approach them as events and then get a plan to deal with them.  But I’m learning that if we feel them, they actually have textures…things we can grip onto a little bit and push our edges.  In other words, I think I’m learning that if we feel things, we can grow in ways that thinking about them cannot approach.

But, back to compassion.  So, I think “heart opening” is working a bit.  I was practicing feeling compassion which isn’t empathy or sympathy.  In those, we place ourselves in the shoes of others (sympathy) or recalling when we’ve actually shared the experience of another (empathy) and felt with them.  Compassion, I think, is the following step.  In compassion we stay in our own shoes, recognize the place of another (be it filled with suffering or joy), and then love them as only we can.  It’s not sharing the experience; it’s just opening our arms and loving, regardless of what happens to us or what we’ll get out of it.  I think compassion is the act of giving away love unconditionally.  We always approach that idea from the receiver’s end…I haven’t really even imagined what it feels like to give it.  I think it’s a good thing.

So this is what I’m feeling about today.  Even writing this down has slowed the chatter.  And it makes me think that in order to give this…dude, you gotta tap into a kind of strength that you just have to trust you have…because I think it’s tough.  You may hurt in the process.  But its completely worth it, I think. I mean, I feel.

Ha-HAH. Caught myself there.