Life's Mindful Moments: Looking Up

Once in a while things don’t go our way. Ha! Okay, more than once in a while. And when it doesn't, it kind of sucks. We don’t like discomfort, being dissed, or feeling discarded. There is no getting around the fact that people disappoint us (and yes, we disappoint too). We’re left with this nagging feeling, “Huh, is this personal or just circumstantial?” We carry it around in our chest, shoulders, throat, belly, (for me it’s my hips because I’ll start to eat. I know what your thinking, “Wow, she must have a lot of disappointment!” I have recently but I’m working on not letting things bother me so much). Sometimes the thoughts in our head are like cicadas making that summer background sound that doesn’t go away.

 I came outside to sit and get still because I have a tinge of hurt that’s hanging around in my head. Someone didn’t return the phone call or email that I needed to hear back from. Someone bailed on getting together. Two valuable things broke and now need to be replaced. It is easy to allow our discouraged thoughts to hover like humidity in Chicago. We all know how draining that can be in July. 

I think cardinals are handsome birds. If I’m out on a walk and I hear one singing, I'll pause to look up and try to spot him. As much as I love watching birds, I could never be an ornithologist. I bet they have neck problems. This morning I was trying to get quiet and just meditate on the summer sounds. A striking red fella flew into the back yard. I didn't need to crane my neck to see him because he was on our driveway—which was unusual to see him on the ground. He grabbed a small leaf, about the size of a nickel, and looked like he was eating it (maybe an insect was on it). I watched and thought, “What are you doing on the driveway, you’re suppose to be up in a tree. You’re not meant to eat leaves, you’re suppose to feast on seeds and worms.” A few moments later he flew to a low branch on the nearest tree.  "Now there you go fella, now you’re moving up.” 


I smiled at natures little life analogy for me this morning: I’m not meant to dwell on these low-level thoughts either (I’m suppose to look up, right?). I can’t change the disappointing things that happen. I need to get off the ground and just move to a higher place within—a place where my ego doesn’t drag me down and make everything personal. Eventually the cardinal flew away. Right then I realized that I too need to let these thoughts just fly away—let'em go and move on.  


Following my breath a while longer anchored me back to the present moment. I said some prayers of blessing for those that I felt disappointed by. That usually gets me back on track—allowing me to let go of these feelings that only hold me captive to the past—even if the past was 12 hours ago. Accepting ‘things as they are’ goes a long way to keeping me sane. It takes time to watch the birds and watch my what my obsessive brain is up to, but it’s worth it--worth the peace within. Maybe later today I'll spot another cardinal. He'll be in a better place (high up in the trees) and so will I (in my mind). 

 Oh and if I haven’t called you back or returned and email, it’s not personal. Just, ‘my bad.’ 

Furry Entertainment

I am one of the estimated 77.5 million dog owners in America. Of course like the old Ken-L-Ration dog food commercial, I sing with utter conviction that “My dog‘s better than your dog!” Fred is my hairy-child (sorry, Kev, you left home so there’s a new Alpha Dog in the house). Fred has me wrapped around his furry little paw. Fred is a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier, which means he has silky hair and I secretly resent that I shed more than him. I admit I’m easily amused but nobody makes me smile like Fred. I don’t know what it is about Fred that reduces me to a babbling idiot when no one is looking: “Who’s the best boo puppy pup in the whole wide world?” I am also Fred’s interpreter. In my best dog-voice, I narrate on Fred’s behalf out loud throughout the day: “Oh my gosh, Kongs filled with peanut butter are my favorite thing.” “Ice cubes, can I have one? They’re my favorite!” “I don’t want to get off the bed. I was quite comfortable thank you very much.” “Oh, my gosh, going for a walk, that’s my favorite thing.”  “Did you see that Schnoodle? Dang, Poodles will do it with anybody. ” I even made up a song so he knows when we are going for a walk: We’re gonna go for a walk. We’re gonna go for a walk. We’re gonna go for a walk and talk as we go for a walk. We’re gonna go for walk. It’s a catchy little ditty and it gets Fred’s tail wagging. If by now you’re thinking I should be committed, been there, done that, the room has my name on the door. Fred just brings out the inner Doctor Doolittle in me (and they thought that guy was crazy too).   

Fred is a pretty relaxed dude as dogs go, except when he’s on a leash and another dog comes near– his inner Kujo kicks in – it’s embarrassing.  However, if you come over for a visit he will literally jump up for joy (full contact joy). “You came by to see me?  I’m so glad to see you; oh my gosh, you’re my favorite person in the whole world. Can you see how high I jump? Oh my gosh, let me give you a kiss.” He has no manners. When we go to the vet as soon as we walk in they say, “Crazy Fred!” He barks at every man, woman, child, and squirrel that comes by our house. I forgive Fred for his few faults because he’s so easy to be with 98% of the time. In my darkest hours he’s been there to let me cry on his shoulder. He watches TV with me. He’s super smart, and a great listener who never talks back. Fred is what I call a ‘near puppy’ he always has to be close by or on my lap-all 35-pounds of fluff. One of the benefits of being a dog owner is how they remind you to ‘lighten up, smile, and not feel guilty for taking naps. If you are paying attention, they can teach you how to live in the present moment.’ 

The only thing Fred can’t do is be off his leash. He’s a freakishly fast dog. I’ve watched him run in perpetual circles around doggie parks or as he races in my sister and brother-in-law’s fenced-in landscaped backyard with pure abandonment. “Here he comes he’s spinning around the tree, he’s leaping over the lawn chairs and small dogs, he’s sprinting towards the azaleas, he’s got a strong lead on anyone whose trying to catch him!” But by far, his favorite thing to do in the whole wide world (and he’ll tell you) is go for bike rides on his Walkie Dog-a long pole that attaches to a bike. It has been the greatest invention known to dog-kind. Fred loves it. I don’t even have to peddle the bike the first block because he’s running so hard (seriously). It is hilarious to see his wooly mammoth hair blowing in the wind. “Oh my gosh, biking is my favorite thing in the whole world. Did you see that Labadoodle? Sheesh, Poodles will do it with anyone!”

I think it’s pretty cool how God gave us a few domesticated pets (dogs in particular) to remind us to chill out and laugh more throughout our days. I’m telling you, Fred is free furry entertainment. Mostly he makes me smile. If I had to sum up Fred (in my subjective opinion) I’d say, Fred likes his life. And I like my life more because of Fred.

Side note: I’ll try to post a video of Fred here in this blog occasionally if I can figure out how to do that.

Balancing Extremes

  

I was very immature when I was young, and for me there was no balance. Everything was just all or nothing. ~Mickey Rourke

I can relate to Mickey. I had no balance in my life when I was young. I didn’t even know what balance was or that I should have it. I just did what I had to do for the people around me that I loved. That went along well for about 20+ years until one day I realized that something shifted. My life felt wobbly and unsteady. There were lots of reasons that factored into my lack of equilibrium (maybe I’ll write about that down the road--it’s actually best told over a bottle or two of wine).

I am by nature a woman of extremes - all or nothing: I hibernate all winter and want to explore all summer. I am either too hot or too cold. I’m a ridiculous coward when it comes to heights and reptiles, but beyond brave when it comes to facing bullies and BS-ers. I am a serious germ-a-phobic but have no problem with blood gushing or bones sticking out. (If there is a crisis, you want me there. However, if someone has the flu, a fever, a cold, or a cough, I’m secretly wishing I didn’t have to be within a football field from you - which is probably why I hibernate all winter. I once attended a church where they had sanitizer at the end of the pews; we were in complete theological and biological agreement). I can fast like a monk or feast like an Epicurean. I love socializing with people. However, I also have a contemplative and reclusive part of my personality.

These are just a few of my extremes. My friends and husband could provide you with a more comprehensive list. I’m honest enough to know that these things about me will never change. I’ve tried. I’m not fooling anyone. Lately I’ve been asking myself what is true balance: What is the ‘Middle Way’ when it comes to balance? How do I make peace with my extremeness and yet find balance in three areas: body, mind, and soul? At present, the hardest area to give grace and acceptance to is the physical part of my self. I’m more aware than ever that I’m getting older and this ‘ole body’ is changing-rapidly!

I used to teach aerobics back in the Jane Fonda days (which dates me). I often taught 2-3 classes a day and could live off of Snickers and Kit Kat bars, and not gain weight (oh the good old days). This was the beginning of my extreme eating, dieting, and exercising. I was young and naïve back then and had no idea what was coming. Not sticking around long enough to experience this herself, Marilyn Monroe once said, “Gravity catches up with all of us”. No kidding. Thanks for the heads up.

When you’re my age, our bodies start to talk back. First it’s polite and whispers with a little unexplained fatigue, then it whimpers with and ache that won’t go away for six months, and then screams at you like a insolent teenager shouting at you just because you exist. Next thing you know, you have serious symptoms that need prescription medicines that you don’t want to be taking and don’t really seem to help anyway. My body was persistent enough to find its voice and got my attention.

Since I didn’t have the energy to do step-aerobics anymore, and still struggled with getting off the legal crack-a.k.a sugar, I started doing yoga. Being that I’m sort of a hippy-dippy type, yoga seemed like something I would dig doing. Terri Guillemets said of the “bendy” activity, “I tried yoga once but took off for the mall halfway through class, as I had a sudden craving for soft pretzels and world peace.” Terri and I could totally be friends. As for me, I’ve stuck with yoga. It’s taken me some time to lean into it, make it a routine, and now I love it. My body loves it. 

One of the fundamentals in yoga is balance. I quickly learned I didn’t have any. It took me six months to do a full tree pose – I mean arms gloriously reaching overhead holding the pose for a minute or two and breathing naturally. Just this pose alone was something that I had to be patient with because my body lost its flexibility and strength somewhere in the last decade. Oh I could whip the heel of my foot up into the corner of my thigh, but that didn’t mean I was in tree pose and was balanced. My mind was trying to attain perfection, but my body was screaming, “Um, you need to lose a few more pounds girlfriend!” Soon I was learning that the reason I couldn’t do tree pose wasn’t so much that I was curvaceous and flabby, it was because I was not balanced within my mind and soul. Instead, I was listening to a judgmental voice in my head and couldn’t accept my limitations and be content with who I was –now- in this moment. This mean-spirited voice for decades has tried to convince me that what I weigh is who I am as a whole. It is a shaming voice and it's a lie. I am not my weight! Sadly, too often I get tripped up and think I am. For example, if I’m hiding from the camera, I’m thinking negative thoughts and secretly terrified that you'll tag me on Facebook. 

I have a long history of being unkind to myself - seeing myself through a distorted lens – saying mean things that are not true. I can be so encouraging to others but unmerciful toward myself. In yoga, I learned a lesson I wish I had learned years ago: “NO EXPECTATIONS, NO COMPARISONS, NO JUDGMENT.” This knowledge would have helped me to be a better mother, lover, and friend. This insight has been the beginning of me finding balance in my life again. I haven’t arrived - stay tune for the continuing saga.

Even these past few weeks I’ve been beating myself up and neglecting kindness towards myself. After losing 40 pounds over the last year, I recently gained 15 back. I know why it happens. I lost my balance. I’m a woman of extremes: “Oooh, M-Dogs opened in McHenry, lets go!” or "Hmmm, sit by the lake or go bike off the Chicago Style hotdog and fries?"  The extreme of eating and loafing have kept me out of physical balance since May. The fact that I’m thrashing myself emotionally is keeping me from personal forgiveness. Do you ever do that? I get mad at myself when I self-sabotage by falling back into old conditioned habits. However, to my credit, I'm still working out-some. 

What I am learning is externally and internally there are many stages of syncing up body, mind, and spirit. It takes a lifetime to pull off ongoing stability. Yet ‘True Balance’ is something we always have deep down inside of us; we just need to come into harmony with it on the outside. Of course the ‘aplomb heart’ doesn’t come from me, I’m not that accomplished. It comes from God. He put a core center of immovability within me for a good reason – probably because He knows I get tipped over in attaining perfection in tree pose, against resistance to ‘what is’, or my struggle with yummy food, or my worry over germs and judgment. Below the surface of my crazy, extreme self is ‘True Balance’: a level place, a still place, a place of compassion, a place of acceptance towards others, a place where all is well when I take care of myself, a place where gravity (and Hersey Bars) doesn’t pull me off center.

Staycations

Life’s Mindful Moments:    Staycations

The economy has taken a bite out of our ability to just go off and take a trip when we like. We don’t travel as often (except for work or to see relatives). We can’t remember the last time we took a vacation just the two of us. But that’s okay. Someone invented the word ‘Staycation’; and thankfully on the heels of us all wondering how we were going to cope with our changing lifestyles. Prior to September of 2008, many of us lived sweet entitled lives compared to the rest of the world. We wasted more money than we should have, and took things for granted to one degree or another. You know what I’m talking about.

So instead of booking a few nights in a B & B, whenever we want a getaway spot over looking a lake in ‘Somewhere USA, we head up to Lake Geneva Wisconsin (our home away from home). It’s about 40 minutes away from us. It’s Staycation time: We pack a lunch, our lawn chairs, a blanket, and I swear to Rich on a stack of receipts that I won’t step foot in any of the charming little shops. Instead, we spend the afternoon reading a stack of books and gaze at the view. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. All summer, I’ll find a shady tree to sit under, let the breeze kiss my cheeks, count the sail boats, laugh at children with ice cream, listen to the birds, watch people go by and wonder what they are up to, swat an occasional ant off my toes (some times I don’t even care). We meet all sorts of happy dogs and dog owners (I can’t resist a cute dog walking by. We must become friends.). The one thing I do now is make sure to look up every few chapters from my book, pause and just follow my breath for five minutes. When I do, the peace within me is as deep as the lake. From time to time I’ll tell Rich, ‘Doesn’t get any better than this.’ Even in the winter I’ll go up there (I love it when the latent lake begins to stir. If you are really still you can hear it thawing). If going up to Lake Geneva isn’t an option, we’ll hang out at the lake in our town or sit on the patio in our own little backyard. Contentment is accepting right where you are at, in the moment (in all seasons). Sometimes those moments are so pleasant it doesn’t matter where you are staying.