I realize not everyone writes everything down the way I do. I don’t understand it, but I do realize it. I also realize not everyone analyzes stuff down to the subatomic level I do. Frankly, I suspect that’s a lot more comfortable. Except analyzing stuff, asking questions, is kinda fun. So, go figure.
But you don’t want to get stuck there, right? You don’t want to spend the rest of your life dreaming about climbing a mountain, only to die with sixty versions of your ideal scene (containing the “I climb mountains on holiday” intention), forty lists of what to pack and “get passport” on every to-do list for the past decade…and no travelogues of your own.
Writing it down doesn’t get it done. It does, however, help us create a picture to align with. It can help firm up our intention. It can make us feel so damned guilty that “get passport” is STILL on the to-do list (I do my to-do lists in Excel so I can easily prioritize and update them. Is that a sign of weakness?) that we either cross it off undone so we don’t have to look at it any more (consciousness!) or go get a picture and fill out the paperwork, no matter that we still have twenty pounds to lose and no money for an airline ticket to Nepal.
Writing it down doesn’t get it done, but it can goad us into action. Partly this is because we’re programmed to avoid cognitive dissonance, and creating a picture of what we want creates dissonance that we will try to resolve. And there are only two ways to resolve it: change, or pretend change isn’t necessary. (Cognitive dissonance often results in something like Douglas Adams’ “someone else’s problem field,” which is the idea that we will ignore really weird things if we don’t think we need to do something about them.)
So go ahead, write it down. Once. Review it as necessary—maybe once a year. Create new heights to aspire to, new views to admire. But then go out and do the things that need to be done. Writing it down won’t get them done. Only doing them will.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
I did what???
So here’s the thing with that great view in front of you. You got here because of a series of choices. The same goes for any not-so-great view, perhaps the same one you’ve been staring at for more years than you care to count. Doesn’t matter whether you’re desperately trying to create the life of your dreams—your own consciously sane style—or whether you’re there and just popping in to say hi, how ya’ doin’.
What matters is, you’re here (wherever “here” is). And, as I said, you’re here because you made choices. If your life to this point has been unconsciously insane, you may not have known you were making the choices you did—or they seemed like a good idea at the time. We drift into choices an awful lot.
It can be tempting to spend more than a few minutes (more of that over-analysis stuff) wondering how we got here and what we should’ve/could’ve/would’ve-if-we’d-known done differently.
Don’t.
It’s a waste of time and energy. Voice of experience talking to herself here. I am the queen of woulda-coulda-shoulda (It’s a beautiful country, but the view doesn’t change much; don’t like the weather? Tough. It’s not likely to change.) but I decided this year (finally) to abdicate my throne. I’m hoping it will get covered over with ivy and grass and other sorts of useful things for birds to nest in.
Where was I. Oh. Right. The view.
No matter what the view is—no matter what peak you’re perched on, how you got there is important for two reasons: one, you learned something that will help you create the path to the next peak, or two, (its inverse) you learned something you don’t ever want to do again. Ever. What keeps us stuck in the “what if,” though, is when we think about all the lovely trails we didn’t go down on our way here. Why do we think about them? In my experience, there’s only one real reason to “what if” the other trails (this is slightly different from the woulda-coulda-shoulda, which often carries a boat load of regret with it): we didn’t plan on reaching this point, it wasn’t where we thought we were going, and we aren’t sure it’s where we want to be (yes, that’s only one reason!). In other words, all the time we were hiking the path, we were unconscious of what we wanted.
This is NOT the same as exploring, or indulging curiosity. This is drifting. This is working, loving, living in a way that we just haven’t thought about, but maybe someone else told us it was the thing to do. And suddenly we’re here (wherever “here” is) and not sure why.
So, what next? No idea. But here’s a suggestion. Take a look around. Find the part of the path you most enjoyed walking. Find the particular angle of the current view that appeals to you most. Then let go. Realize that if you really want to, you can always walk back down the path and pick one of those trails (there are a few that are impassable by now, but only a few, and…well, as the saying goes, suck it up, because you’re here, not there) to explore. But also realize that it’s always possible you made the right choices all along.
What matters is, you’re here (wherever “here” is). And, as I said, you’re here because you made choices. If your life to this point has been unconsciously insane, you may not have known you were making the choices you did—or they seemed like a good idea at the time. We drift into choices an awful lot.
It can be tempting to spend more than a few minutes (more of that over-analysis stuff) wondering how we got here and what we should’ve/could’ve/would’ve-if-we’d-known done differently.
Don’t.
It’s a waste of time and energy. Voice of experience talking to herself here. I am the queen of woulda-coulda-shoulda (It’s a beautiful country, but the view doesn’t change much; don’t like the weather? Tough. It’s not likely to change.) but I decided this year (finally) to abdicate my throne. I’m hoping it will get covered over with ivy and grass and other sorts of useful things for birds to nest in.
Where was I. Oh. Right. The view.
No matter what the view is—no matter what peak you’re perched on, how you got there is important for two reasons: one, you learned something that will help you create the path to the next peak, or two, (its inverse) you learned something you don’t ever want to do again. Ever. What keeps us stuck in the “what if,” though, is when we think about all the lovely trails we didn’t go down on our way here. Why do we think about them? In my experience, there’s only one real reason to “what if” the other trails (this is slightly different from the woulda-coulda-shoulda, which often carries a boat load of regret with it): we didn’t plan on reaching this point, it wasn’t where we thought we were going, and we aren’t sure it’s where we want to be (yes, that’s only one reason!). In other words, all the time we were hiking the path, we were unconscious of what we wanted.
This is NOT the same as exploring, or indulging curiosity. This is drifting. This is working, loving, living in a way that we just haven’t thought about, but maybe someone else told us it was the thing to do. And suddenly we’re here (wherever “here” is) and not sure why.
So, what next? No idea. But here’s a suggestion. Take a look around. Find the part of the path you most enjoyed walking. Find the particular angle of the current view that appeals to you most. Then let go. Realize that if you really want to, you can always walk back down the path and pick one of those trails (there are a few that are impassable by now, but only a few, and…well, as the saying goes, suck it up, because you’re here, not there) to explore. But also realize that it’s always possible you made the right choices all along.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Stop to think...or not
Sometimes, you just have to stop thinking. Granted, most people’s problems seem to be related to them not stopping AND thinking, but sometimes, you get stuck because you think too much.
There are two ways to over-analyze something. One (my personal favorite) is to pick up all the little things no one else notices and give them a good long look. This is often aggravating to the person (or people) otherwise involved for a variety of reasons. But sometimes it results in little gems that lead you to a whole new place to view the world from.
That’s the point at which you should stop thinking. It’s the point at which a lot of us stop and do more of it instead—usually along the lines of “how did I get here, where do I go next”—instead of taking a breath and a bottle of water and fifteen minutes or so to enjoy the view. Worse, we sometimes follow “how did I get here” with “what should I have done differently?” (More on this particular bit tomorrow.)
The other way to over-analyze something is to keep thinking about it—planning, planning, planning. Writing lists and goals and ideal scenes and lists and goals and oh-look-at-that-way-to-do-it and lists … you get the idea. The point of a to-do list is to, well, DO. I love lists—write ‘em all the time. But we often spend too much time thinking about what we want, and not nearly enough time creating it. Trust me, if writing it down was what made it happen, I’d be the richest size six on the planet. (More on this later, too. The writing down stuff, not the size six stuff.)
Sure, to be conscious about your life, instead of drifting through, you’re going to have to think about it. But to create it, you’re going to have to stop thinking and just do.
There are two ways to over-analyze something. One (my personal favorite) is to pick up all the little things no one else notices and give them a good long look. This is often aggravating to the person (or people) otherwise involved for a variety of reasons. But sometimes it results in little gems that lead you to a whole new place to view the world from.
That’s the point at which you should stop thinking. It’s the point at which a lot of us stop and do more of it instead—usually along the lines of “how did I get here, where do I go next”—instead of taking a breath and a bottle of water and fifteen minutes or so to enjoy the view. Worse, we sometimes follow “how did I get here” with “what should I have done differently?” (More on this particular bit tomorrow.)
The other way to over-analyze something is to keep thinking about it—planning, planning, planning. Writing lists and goals and ideal scenes and lists and goals and oh-look-at-that-way-to-do-it and lists … you get the idea. The point of a to-do list is to, well, DO. I love lists—write ‘em all the time. But we often spend too much time thinking about what we want, and not nearly enough time creating it. Trust me, if writing it down was what made it happen, I’d be the richest size six on the planet. (More on this later, too. The writing down stuff, not the size six stuff.)
Sure, to be conscious about your life, instead of drifting through, you’re going to have to think about it. But to create it, you’re going to have to stop thinking and just do.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Is anyone watching?
So I have these weeks….
Right. Don’t we all? Where we can talk about what we’re doing, or we can do it, but there isn’t time for both? Or is that just a matter of organization or getting too-easily distracted??
What's even worse is that was the beginning of YESTERDAY'S post. Sheesh. You'd think I didn't like to talk, or write, or something.
I do, of course. Both. So when I got home last night, it was all about the priorities--writing, editing, proofreading. New proofreading project (big one) due Monday, edits for a novella due back to the editor ASAP because it's the final round and now we can go to galleys, and the book-of-my-heart project (two sequels and a three-novel story arc already taking shape in my head).
And then this morning, rushing around because I'd let my brain get wired up and couldn't fall asleep and so overslept, I remembered: people are watching me.
No, not in a paranoid sense. Please, if you have paranoiac tendencies--even if they are really after you--what I have to say is all good, I promise! But over the last few weeks I've caught myself many times grumbling along the lines of 'no one even notices what I do.' Which of course isn't true, but it was true enough for me that I was bitching about it. (Note to those of you who know, love, and are laughing at me: I do try not to bitch about things that aren't real.)
Then, quietly, snuck in when I wasn't expecting it, I started getting 'good job' nods from people who had some say over the work I was doing. An editor double checking the novella for a second pair of eyes loved it. The proofreading coordinator I was freelancing for told me. My boss told me. But yesterday was the kicker: people I didn't even know should be paying attention told me. Not in words, but in actions. In a meeting yesterday, we got a look at website stats for December--hundreds of people were hitting the blog I post for work. People I didn't know were paying attention were paying attention.
Granted, that's a nice ego boost (since they weren't leaving nasty comments), but it was also the reminder I needed: do what you need to do, and trust that it's seen where it needs to be seen. Whether it's an act of ego or service (with writing books, that line gets blurred, especially since I tend to loosely define service as "that thing you must do for yourself whether anyone likes it or not, but it's best if it helps other people"; in other words: what you are here for), someone, somewhere, is going to be touched by what we do. A test of your own truth, I think, is whether you'd change what you were doing based on what you know about who's watching. If you wouldn't--if you are pouring yourself into it (and adjusting where need be--want a reminder it's not all about you? Sit through a round of book edits!), regardless of who's watching: that's the truth. That's where you should be. It may not negate the need for an audience on a practical level (if your truth is teaching, you must have someone to teach--but the deeper truth is how/why), but it's done REGARDLESS of the audience.
Doesn't really matter whether we know about it or not.
Right. Don’t we all? Where we can talk about what we’re doing, or we can do it, but there isn’t time for both? Or is that just a matter of organization or getting too-easily distracted??
What's even worse is that was the beginning of YESTERDAY'S post. Sheesh. You'd think I didn't like to talk, or write, or something.
I do, of course. Both. So when I got home last night, it was all about the priorities--writing, editing, proofreading. New proofreading project (big one) due Monday, edits for a novella due back to the editor ASAP because it's the final round and now we can go to galleys, and the book-of-my-heart project (two sequels and a three-novel story arc already taking shape in my head).
And then this morning, rushing around because I'd let my brain get wired up and couldn't fall asleep and so overslept, I remembered: people are watching me.
No, not in a paranoid sense. Please, if you have paranoiac tendencies--even if they are really after you--what I have to say is all good, I promise! But over the last few weeks I've caught myself many times grumbling along the lines of 'no one even notices what I do.' Which of course isn't true, but it was true enough for me that I was bitching about it. (Note to those of you who know, love, and are laughing at me: I do try not to bitch about things that aren't real.)
Then, quietly, snuck in when I wasn't expecting it, I started getting 'good job' nods from people who had some say over the work I was doing. An editor double checking the novella for a second pair of eyes loved it. The proofreading coordinator I was freelancing for told me. My boss told me. But yesterday was the kicker: people I didn't even know should be paying attention told me. Not in words, but in actions. In a meeting yesterday, we got a look at website stats for December--hundreds of people were hitting the blog I post for work. People I didn't know were paying attention were paying attention.
Granted, that's a nice ego boost (since they weren't leaving nasty comments), but it was also the reminder I needed: do what you need to do, and trust that it's seen where it needs to be seen. Whether it's an act of ego or service (with writing books, that line gets blurred, especially since I tend to loosely define service as "that thing you must do for yourself whether anyone likes it or not, but it's best if it helps other people"; in other words: what you are here for), someone, somewhere, is going to be touched by what we do. A test of your own truth, I think, is whether you'd change what you were doing based on what you know about who's watching. If you wouldn't--if you are pouring yourself into it (and adjusting where need be--want a reminder it's not all about you? Sit through a round of book edits!), regardless of who's watching: that's the truth. That's where you should be. It may not negate the need for an audience on a practical level (if your truth is teaching, you must have someone to teach--but the deeper truth is how/why), but it's done REGARDLESS of the audience.
Doesn't really matter whether we know about it or not.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Guided by intuition
Been kind of a weird week, and every time I sit down to write blog posts, whoosh!, there goes another day. But I'm here now, it must be meant to be.
Signs and portents everywhere. At least, that's what some people will tell you. I see them myself, although I admit that I'm more often skeptical (that's my next book--The Skeptical Mystic. Or maybe not.) about what I, or anyone else, might consider "a sign."
I'm also skeptical about what my intuition tells me. I don't know if I was born hyper-analytical--Mom didn't put anything like that in my baby book. You know: Lorena spoke her first words today. I was hoping for "mama," or even "dada," but imagine my surprise when the first thing she said was "prove it!"
Okay, I'm not quite that skeptical. And there are probably a lot of people who look at what I believe (or they think I believe) and assume I'm not analyzing any of it, since of course it makes more sense to believe it their way (post on the comparative 'huh???'s of religion, atheism, and what-have-you to come later when I don't mind ticking off everyone I know). For now, back to intuition.
The tricky thing to following your intuition is actually two-fold, which conveniently creates a middle way to follow. First, you have to trust what it's telling you (this is the part that gets me, because I'm over-reliant on step two). You also have to trust that what it's telling you is significant, rather than stating a preference OR presenting you with a thought based on a projection of what you want. I tend to worry about this part a lot, which means I don't really trust what my intuition says until something or someone confirms it. So if my intuition is screaming at me (I can be a little hard of cosmic hearing), I look for signs, and then I worry about coincidence and projection and all that and I'm back where I started.
So what does a skeptic who understands that there is something to this intuition business, but isn't really sure it applies now, do?
I suggest going with it. Take notes if you want--teachers seem to always recommend journaling things like intuitive moments--or moments that you think are intuitive, at least--and dreams. This gives you a record, which can be kind of handy later. It's also handy if something happens that you think might be related to your intuitive impulse, because then you learn to build connections between your symbols. Getting things "wrong" uses the same probabilities as getting things "right." So if intuition is saying "wear red" (or your subconscious is perhaps projecting a preference) and you wear red, and there's an unexpected meeting called and it goes well (red being a power color), then the next time intuition says "wear red," you say, "huh. Maybe I should wear red. Might be nothing to it, but maybe the Universe is letting me know I need to be on my best game today." And you see what happens, and you pay attention to the difference in feeling so you learn to distinguish between intuition and subconscious statements of preference (making them conscious).
This is not superstition, by the way--it's not the same as ritual behavior that must be done before you make a move. It can be, of course, but then people can create rituals out of anything, including looking for inner guidance. But "I must wear red" isn't the same as "I must spit on my lucky shoes before the first pitch." In the first case, the intuition comes, and you act without particular expectation as to the outcome. You simply say, this may be an indication of xyz. In the second case, you assume your actions must be done in a particular way in order to affect the outcome. Wearing red when you know the meeting is scheduled is only superstitious if you think of it as your lucky color, not as a color that has been shown to psychologically impact people as a power color.
Intuition--whether it's your subconscious mind uncovering information you've taken in through the usual channels and stored, or the voice of God letting you in on something no one else knows--is real. It's worth learning how to maneuver past the tricky parts to allow yourself to be guided by it well.
Signs and portents everywhere. At least, that's what some people will tell you. I see them myself, although I admit that I'm more often skeptical (that's my next book--The Skeptical Mystic. Or maybe not.) about what I, or anyone else, might consider "a sign."
I'm also skeptical about what my intuition tells me. I don't know if I was born hyper-analytical--Mom didn't put anything like that in my baby book. You know: Lorena spoke her first words today. I was hoping for "mama," or even "dada," but imagine my surprise when the first thing she said was "prove it!"
Okay, I'm not quite that skeptical. And there are probably a lot of people who look at what I believe (or they think I believe) and assume I'm not analyzing any of it, since of course it makes more sense to believe it their way (post on the comparative 'huh???'s of religion, atheism, and what-have-you to come later when I don't mind ticking off everyone I know). For now, back to intuition.
The tricky thing to following your intuition is actually two-fold, which conveniently creates a middle way to follow. First, you have to trust what it's telling you (this is the part that gets me, because I'm over-reliant on step two). You also have to trust that what it's telling you is significant, rather than stating a preference OR presenting you with a thought based on a projection of what you want. I tend to worry about this part a lot, which means I don't really trust what my intuition says until something or someone confirms it. So if my intuition is screaming at me (I can be a little hard of cosmic hearing), I look for signs, and then I worry about coincidence and projection and all that and I'm back where I started.
So what does a skeptic who understands that there is something to this intuition business, but isn't really sure it applies now, do?
I suggest going with it. Take notes if you want--teachers seem to always recommend journaling things like intuitive moments--or moments that you think are intuitive, at least--and dreams. This gives you a record, which can be kind of handy later. It's also handy if something happens that you think might be related to your intuitive impulse, because then you learn to build connections between your symbols. Getting things "wrong" uses the same probabilities as getting things "right." So if intuition is saying "wear red" (or your subconscious is perhaps projecting a preference) and you wear red, and there's an unexpected meeting called and it goes well (red being a power color), then the next time intuition says "wear red," you say, "huh. Maybe I should wear red. Might be nothing to it, but maybe the Universe is letting me know I need to be on my best game today." And you see what happens, and you pay attention to the difference in feeling so you learn to distinguish between intuition and subconscious statements of preference (making them conscious).
This is not superstition, by the way--it's not the same as ritual behavior that must be done before you make a move. It can be, of course, but then people can create rituals out of anything, including looking for inner guidance. But "I must wear red" isn't the same as "I must spit on my lucky shoes before the first pitch." In the first case, the intuition comes, and you act without particular expectation as to the outcome. You simply say, this may be an indication of xyz. In the second case, you assume your actions must be done in a particular way in order to affect the outcome. Wearing red when you know the meeting is scheduled is only superstitious if you think of it as your lucky color, not as a color that has been shown to psychologically impact people as a power color.
Intuition--whether it's your subconscious mind uncovering information you've taken in through the usual channels and stored, or the voice of God letting you in on something no one else knows--is real. It's worth learning how to maneuver past the tricky parts to allow yourself to be guided by it well.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Following your heart
Okay, before we get into what I really want to say, I want to make one thing very clear: you might need a vacation.
Sometimes we get caught in the daily grind and get to a point where we’ve forgotten to take care of our Selves, our innermost beings, adequately enough. Sometimes, what’s wrong isn’t so much that something’s wrong as that we really need a break.
It seems like it shouldn’t be that way, and maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe living a life of sanity—of inspiration and enchantment and entrainment with Source should be so fulfilling, that taking a vacation really means just getting a different view to look at for a few days, because the rest of it’s going exactly the way it ought to be. It may be that most of us are somewhere in the middle—moving toward that space, but still holding our obligations and commitments in a space where they drain us and we have to recharge.
So I just wanted to make clear that just because right now things really are sucking lemons (if they are) or even if you’re just worn down, it might be that you need a different view—it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.
Because you are following your heart, right?
What does that mean, anyway? Like the old line “if it feels good, do it”? Isn’t that just a copout on our commitments and choices and an act of selfishness?
No. Not if it’s true. If you are truly following your heart, you had better be walking away from the things that don’t nurture you. But more, you should be walking TOWARD the things that DO. Following your heart isn’t a reaction to boredom. If your soul is restless, it’s not because the sex isn’t as good as it used to be, or the job has turned into the same old-same old. Your 9 – 5 completely mundane job at the supermarket can be as fulfilling as … oh, pick a profession. Whatever you think is glamorous. It doesn’t matter. Because unless your heart is telling you “be a doctor,” who cares if you pay the bills by bandaging knees or pay them by selling bandages? If your path and your passion is writing mystical poetry, spend what time you can writing mystical poetry, and the rest of it finding inspiration.
Sometimes we get caught in the daily grind and get to a point where we’ve forgotten to take care of our Selves, our innermost beings, adequately enough. Sometimes, what’s wrong isn’t so much that something’s wrong as that we really need a break.
It seems like it shouldn’t be that way, and maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe living a life of sanity—of inspiration and enchantment and entrainment with Source should be so fulfilling, that taking a vacation really means just getting a different view to look at for a few days, because the rest of it’s going exactly the way it ought to be. It may be that most of us are somewhere in the middle—moving toward that space, but still holding our obligations and commitments in a space where they drain us and we have to recharge.
So I just wanted to make clear that just because right now things really are sucking lemons (if they are) or even if you’re just worn down, it might be that you need a different view—it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.
Because you are following your heart, right?
What does that mean, anyway? Like the old line “if it feels good, do it”? Isn’t that just a copout on our commitments and choices and an act of selfishness?
No. Not if it’s true. If you are truly following your heart, you had better be walking away from the things that don’t nurture you. But more, you should be walking TOWARD the things that DO. Following your heart isn’t a reaction to boredom. If your soul is restless, it’s not because the sex isn’t as good as it used to be, or the job has turned into the same old-same old. Your 9 – 5 completely mundane job at the supermarket can be as fulfilling as … oh, pick a profession. Whatever you think is glamorous. It doesn’t matter. Because unless your heart is telling you “be a doctor,” who cares if you pay the bills by bandaging knees or pay them by selling bandages? If your path and your passion is writing mystical poetry, spend what time you can writing mystical poetry, and the rest of it finding inspiration.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Making room
Dark moon today (new moon is at 2:12 a.m. tomorrow). Excellent time to think about the dark spaces in our lives.
It’s not that there’s nothing there, any more than a dark moon is equal to no moon at all. We just can’t see what’s there. Or maybe we refuse to look. Or we look in the wrong direction.
Or maybe it’s stuff we should be letting go of.
Maybe we look at that dark-moon space and think—I could put something there. I could fill that with love and joy and creativity and…but then you go there and discover that there’s something already there, you just weren’t paying that much attention to it. You thought you didn’t spend that much time watching TV, for example, until you go to block out play time, or writing time, or whatever-it-is-that-fulfills-you time, and catch yourself in an old habit of, say, Criminal Minds. Not that I spend any time watching that, or anything. Or Life After People. We create this dark hole of background in our lives—reading the paper, watching TV, surfing the net, playing that silly bubble-shooting game until our brain looks like we’ve been doing crack. And we don’t realize that the hole has become the whole until we try to put something in the corner it occupies.
We often think we “can’t do without” whatever it is that takes up space—whether it’s energy space, time space, or physical space—even though if we looked at it objectively, we’d realize that just like the statisticians say, 90% of the time we wear 10% of the clothes in our closet. And the reason we haven’t written the great American novel or trained to run the Boston Marathon is that we spend our time doing things that in the end—or even in the now—mean next to nothing to us.
If you skipped the news, how much time would that free up? If you stopped watching TV, or cleaned out your closet, or did away with gossip, what changes in the paradigm of your day? If you let go of the things you don’t care about, how much room would you have for the things you love?
It’s not that there’s nothing there, any more than a dark moon is equal to no moon at all. We just can’t see what’s there. Or maybe we refuse to look. Or we look in the wrong direction.
Or maybe it’s stuff we should be letting go of.
Maybe we look at that dark-moon space and think—I could put something there. I could fill that with love and joy and creativity and…but then you go there and discover that there’s something already there, you just weren’t paying that much attention to it. You thought you didn’t spend that much time watching TV, for example, until you go to block out play time, or writing time, or whatever-it-is-that-fulfills-you time, and catch yourself in an old habit of, say, Criminal Minds. Not that I spend any time watching that, or anything. Or Life After People. We create this dark hole of background in our lives—reading the paper, watching TV, surfing the net, playing that silly bubble-shooting game until our brain looks like we’ve been doing crack. And we don’t realize that the hole has become the whole until we try to put something in the corner it occupies.
We often think we “can’t do without” whatever it is that takes up space—whether it’s energy space, time space, or physical space—even though if we looked at it objectively, we’d realize that just like the statisticians say, 90% of the time we wear 10% of the clothes in our closet. And the reason we haven’t written the great American novel or trained to run the Boston Marathon is that we spend our time doing things that in the end—or even in the now—mean next to nothing to us.
If you skipped the news, how much time would that free up? If you stopped watching TV, or cleaned out your closet, or did away with gossip, what changes in the paradigm of your day? If you let go of the things you don’t care about, how much room would you have for the things you love?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Not-so-random Wisdom
Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life. Thich Nhat Hanh
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Escape?
Is it possible to use good-for-you things as an escape from the daily grind?
I think it is, believe it or not. I think it is possible to spend too much time meditating, too much time exercising, too much energy doing whatever it is that looks like something you ought to be doing to make your life work.
Note: it is not possible to spend too much time doing whatever it is that DOES make your life work, only those things that LOOK like something you ought to be doing.
In other words, if you need to train five hours a day for that marathon that will fulfill you, that’s good. Do it. Enjoy.
But if you’re training five hours a day when one is sufficient, and you’re using the other hours to avoid something (anything) else, like the fact that if you were truly yourself, you'd be off on a meditation retreat getting in touch with your childhood trauma and inviting it home for tea, that might be a problem.
If the good you are doing is moving you closer to your truest self, to living your life feeling loved, connected, and joyous, it’s good. If it’s helping you avoid the part(s) of your life where you feel unconnected, unloved, or in pain…maybe not.
I think it is, believe it or not. I think it is possible to spend too much time meditating, too much time exercising, too much energy doing whatever it is that looks like something you ought to be doing to make your life work.
Note: it is not possible to spend too much time doing whatever it is that DOES make your life work, only those things that LOOK like something you ought to be doing.
In other words, if you need to train five hours a day for that marathon that will fulfill you, that’s good. Do it. Enjoy.
But if you’re training five hours a day when one is sufficient, and you’re using the other hours to avoid something (anything) else, like the fact that if you were truly yourself, you'd be off on a meditation retreat getting in touch with your childhood trauma and inviting it home for tea, that might be a problem.
If the good you are doing is moving you closer to your truest self, to living your life feeling loved, connected, and joyous, it’s good. If it’s helping you avoid the part(s) of your life where you feel unconnected, unloved, or in pain…maybe not.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Letting go of choices
Like it or not, there isn’t room in our lives for everything.
Some things are mutually exclusive: you cannot be a vegetarian and eat Kobe beef, for example. Some things are not-so-mutually exclusive: to some extent, you can be a couch potato and have a yoga practice.
For some people, letting go of the option of making a decision about things to include and exclude in their lives is essential—or at least really damned useful. Gretchen Rubin, of The Happiness Project, suggests that some people are abstainers and other people are moderators—that is, some people need to give up chocolate altogether to kick a candy habit, other people can be satisfied with two M&M’s a day (I have friends like that. I don’t understand it, but I have witnessed it.). Some people have to quit smoking cold turkey, others can gradually let go.
I am an abstainer, for the most part. When I’m making a change slowly, I tend to be very conscious of WHY I’m not doing it all at once. For example, if I were to make the decision to become a vegetarian, it’s impractical for me to simply empty my cupboards and refrigerator and restock with all veggies. (unless you’re doing it for a health emergency, in which case the priorities change drastically, don’t they?) What IS practical is to make buying meat a non-option. In other words, I can cook what I have, but there’s no more coming in. This way, I don’t have to think about how much I’m buying to stay 'on track' (I’m having two meat meals this week, so that’s….you know what I mean), nor do I have the option of heading to the grocery store later in the week just ‘cause I feel like it. It’s not an option. I might have six weeks’ worth of steak in my freezer because I went shopping before I made the decision, but there won’t be any more coming in.
Part of being consciously sane is deciding—since there isn’t room for everything—what isn’t optional and making that happen. You do this, in part, by forming a complete picture of how you want your life to feel, and then doing only that. It’s like the old story of the guy talking to the sculptor about how he creates, and the sculptor says “easy, if I want a sculpture of a horse, I just cut away everything that doesn’t look like a horse.”
That third ear? Not an option.
Some things are mutually exclusive: you cannot be a vegetarian and eat Kobe beef, for example. Some things are not-so-mutually exclusive: to some extent, you can be a couch potato and have a yoga practice.
For some people, letting go of the option of making a decision about things to include and exclude in their lives is essential—or at least really damned useful. Gretchen Rubin, of The Happiness Project, suggests that some people are abstainers and other people are moderators—that is, some people need to give up chocolate altogether to kick a candy habit, other people can be satisfied with two M&M’s a day (I have friends like that. I don’t understand it, but I have witnessed it.). Some people have to quit smoking cold turkey, others can gradually let go.
I am an abstainer, for the most part. When I’m making a change slowly, I tend to be very conscious of WHY I’m not doing it all at once. For example, if I were to make the decision to become a vegetarian, it’s impractical for me to simply empty my cupboards and refrigerator and restock with all veggies. (unless you’re doing it for a health emergency, in which case the priorities change drastically, don’t they?) What IS practical is to make buying meat a non-option. In other words, I can cook what I have, but there’s no more coming in. This way, I don’t have to think about how much I’m buying to stay 'on track' (I’m having two meat meals this week, so that’s….you know what I mean), nor do I have the option of heading to the grocery store later in the week just ‘cause I feel like it. It’s not an option. I might have six weeks’ worth of steak in my freezer because I went shopping before I made the decision, but there won’t be any more coming in.
Part of being consciously sane is deciding—since there isn’t room for everything—what isn’t optional and making that happen. You do this, in part, by forming a complete picture of how you want your life to feel, and then doing only that. It’s like the old story of the guy talking to the sculptor about how he creates, and the sculptor says “easy, if I want a sculpture of a horse, I just cut away everything that doesn’t look like a horse.”
That third ear? Not an option.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Finding passion--making the path
Some people, it seems, have it easy. They know what they want, have always known. Don't necessarily do it to pay the bills, but it's so all-encompassing, that there's no question in anyone's mind: this is her passion. My friend R is like that. She travels as part of her career path because it's one way for her to honor and feed her passion: the paranormal. Ghosts and UFOs, big creatures, that sort of thing. Another friend combines her passion for inner knowing with a strong sense of justice: she's a psychic detective. I have friends who are doctors, or cops, because they simply couldn't be anything else.
Some people know what they love, but don't have the courage to leave what they're doing now—or stop something else—to make room for it (this is your year to change that, you hear me?).
Other people, as one friend commented the other day, don't know what their all-consuming passion feels like.
There are books, and organizations, designed to help you find it. They'll tell you to make lists. To think back to what you wanted to do when you grew up (when you were five. I think I wanted to be a pioneer.). "They" make it sound so easy.
But what if it isn't that easy? What if you buried your true self so deeply that it's like exhuming bones from an ancient burial site? And what if you did this before you were conscious of any of it? What if the path to discovering your true passion is actually part of your journey? And what if you gave yourself permission to just take a couple of day trips to check it out?
Some people know what they love, but don't have the courage to leave what they're doing now—or stop something else—to make room for it (this is your year to change that, you hear me?).
Other people, as one friend commented the other day, don't know what their all-consuming passion feels like.
There are books, and organizations, designed to help you find it. They'll tell you to make lists. To think back to what you wanted to do when you grew up (when you were five. I think I wanted to be a pioneer.). "They" make it sound so easy.
But what if it isn't that easy? What if you buried your true self so deeply that it's like exhuming bones from an ancient burial site? And what if you did this before you were conscious of any of it? What if the path to discovering your true passion is actually part of your journey? And what if you gave yourself permission to just take a couple of day trips to check it out?
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Fearlessness
I am in the right place at the right time.
That can be a hard thought to hold, sometimes. Seems over-simplistic. A little too crystal-bunny-hugging Pollyanna-ish. Right place, right time, when the world is falling apart?
What if you dove into the thought, truly believed it? Can you find a reason, or at least a kernel of faith, that this might truly be the right place, right time?
Sometimes we end up in places--relationships, experiences, actual geography--for reasons that are unclear until farther down the path when we turn around to see what got us here and realize we wouldn't have been here "if not."
That can be a hard thought to hold, sometimes. Seems over-simplistic. A little too crystal-bunny-hugging Pollyanna-ish. Right place, right time, when the world is falling apart?
What if you dove into the thought, truly believed it? Can you find a reason, or at least a kernel of faith, that this might truly be the right place, right time?
Sometimes we end up in places--relationships, experiences, actual geography--for reasons that are unclear until farther down the path when we turn around to see what got us here and realize we wouldn't have been here "if not."
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Not-so-random Wisdom
Acknowledging that we are all churned up is the first and most difficult step in any practice. Pema Chodron (The Places that Scare You)
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Finding your path
Originally I was going to post a short journey/meditation, but after a conversation with my friend K2 yesterday, it seemed like a good time to explore the path of passion a few steps further (it's still a journey!).
Rumi: let the beauty you love be what you do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
This is absolutely one of my favorite observations. Let the beauty you love be what you do. There are a million paths to Source (actually, 6 billion and counting)...and THAT is all that is required of you. THAT is where your passion leads--to being so connected with Source that everything else falls into place. It is, for most of us, a life-long journey just making our way to where we are aware of the connection once in a while. Your particular path--your passion--is to walk as closely to Source as you are aware. To make/have/live in as many enlightened moments as possible.
For a lot of us, those moments are rare. For a lot of us, we don't put that name to them--we're just living what makes the most sense to us and we feel good about it. Picasso may not have been aware that he connected to the divine every time he put brush to paint, but do you think he was painting because he wanted to be doing something else?
Let the beauty you love be what you do...bring a sense of sacred to the things that matter most to you. Your grand passion might be raising a child to be a compassionate warrior; it might be raising yourself to be one. It might be art, or music, or making sure the world-as-we-know-it runs smoothly and that your pleasure is showing others how to have fun.
The path is the practice.
"This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.” (Rumi)
Rumi: let the beauty you love be what you do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
This is absolutely one of my favorite observations. Let the beauty you love be what you do. There are a million paths to Source (actually, 6 billion and counting)...and THAT is all that is required of you. THAT is where your passion leads--to being so connected with Source that everything else falls into place. It is, for most of us, a life-long journey just making our way to where we are aware of the connection once in a while. Your particular path--your passion--is to walk as closely to Source as you are aware. To make/have/live in as many enlightened moments as possible.
For a lot of us, those moments are rare. For a lot of us, we don't put that name to them--we're just living what makes the most sense to us and we feel good about it. Picasso may not have been aware that he connected to the divine every time he put brush to paint, but do you think he was painting because he wanted to be doing something else?
Let the beauty you love be what you do...bring a sense of sacred to the things that matter most to you. Your grand passion might be raising a child to be a compassionate warrior; it might be raising yourself to be one. It might be art, or music, or making sure the world-as-we-know-it runs smoothly and that your pleasure is showing others how to have fun.
The path is the practice.
"This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.” (Rumi)
Monday, January 4, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Happy New Year!
Let's talk about passion for a minute.
In the tarot, the suit of wands or staffs represents fire (yes, to some of you it represents air, but if that's the case, pretend I just wrote "swords"). One of the areas the suit addresses when you get the cards in a reading is "career." To me, though, this isn't just about the job--about what you get up and do every day. It's really about why you do it. Your passion.
In some cases, the "why" might be as simple as a desire to keep clothes on your body, food in your belly, and a roof over your head, to whatever degree it's possible. Not all of us are working jobs we love for great rewards (volunteer at a homeless shelter sometime if you want to see bare-survival as a passion). But whatever it is, whatever drives us, THAT is the reason we do what we do, or dream of doing something different.
Make this the year your passion makes a difference.
If you are already living your passion 24/7/365 -- great. This is the year you'll see it blossom into something foundational. I really believe that. For those who've been letting their passion slide, I think this is the year it's going to become a conscious choice--do I keep doing what I've been doing or do I make the leap of faith?
I'm not saying that if you're an accountant who wants to be a musician that you should quit your job and go on the road with guitar in hand. I mean, do it if you want, but a leap of faith does not necessarily mean cutting all ties to what you've got going on (although we somehow always feel that way). A leap of faith to embrace our passions is based on just a couple of things: one, to make a complete fool of ourselves (in this case, the holy fool, a la the fool card from the tarot, which is all about starting that new journey); two, to want it so badly that even if you're wrong, you win. Or maybe it's about being willing to want it that much. Too often we let being afraid of being hurt hold us back--not just in human relationships, but in becoming our fullest selves.
If you've always dreamed of being a musician, and don't do it, what's holding you back from it? Being a lousy musician? Nope. Bad reason. Really, just turn on the radio sometime ... be willing to find out you can't do it. Be willing to throw yourself so fully into the love of it, that in the end, it doesn't matter whether you win awards, get contracts, or even get out of the shower. Want to climb mountains? (I do, and I've been using this as an example a LOT lately, which tells me this might be the year to suck it up and give it a go.) Maybe you--maybe I--find that really short hills are all that's possible. But you know what? If you don't try, you aren't being your truest self, and THAT -- that ALONE -- is what matters.
NPR used to do this series called "This I Believe." I loved listening to it. My manifesto is probably pretty short--but this is what I believe: It is through being our truest selves, no matter what, that we will evolve. It's scary, perhaps, it's hard, absolutely; but it's exhilarating--how can it not be?--and if we are to evolve, spiritually, it is what we must do.
In the tarot, the suit of wands or staffs represents fire (yes, to some of you it represents air, but if that's the case, pretend I just wrote "swords"). One of the areas the suit addresses when you get the cards in a reading is "career." To me, though, this isn't just about the job--about what you get up and do every day. It's really about why you do it. Your passion.
In some cases, the "why" might be as simple as a desire to keep clothes on your body, food in your belly, and a roof over your head, to whatever degree it's possible. Not all of us are working jobs we love for great rewards (volunteer at a homeless shelter sometime if you want to see bare-survival as a passion). But whatever it is, whatever drives us, THAT is the reason we do what we do, or dream of doing something different.
Make this the year your passion makes a difference.
If you are already living your passion 24/7/365 -- great. This is the year you'll see it blossom into something foundational. I really believe that. For those who've been letting their passion slide, I think this is the year it's going to become a conscious choice--do I keep doing what I've been doing or do I make the leap of faith?
I'm not saying that if you're an accountant who wants to be a musician that you should quit your job and go on the road with guitar in hand. I mean, do it if you want, but a leap of faith does not necessarily mean cutting all ties to what you've got going on (although we somehow always feel that way). A leap of faith to embrace our passions is based on just a couple of things: one, to make a complete fool of ourselves (in this case, the holy fool, a la the fool card from the tarot, which is all about starting that new journey); two, to want it so badly that even if you're wrong, you win. Or maybe it's about being willing to want it that much. Too often we let being afraid of being hurt hold us back--not just in human relationships, but in becoming our fullest selves.
If you've always dreamed of being a musician, and don't do it, what's holding you back from it? Being a lousy musician? Nope. Bad reason. Really, just turn on the radio sometime ... be willing to find out you can't do it. Be willing to throw yourself so fully into the love of it, that in the end, it doesn't matter whether you win awards, get contracts, or even get out of the shower. Want to climb mountains? (I do, and I've been using this as an example a LOT lately, which tells me this might be the year to suck it up and give it a go.) Maybe you--maybe I--find that really short hills are all that's possible. But you know what? If you don't try, you aren't being your truest self, and THAT -- that ALONE -- is what matters.
NPR used to do this series called "This I Believe." I loved listening to it. My manifesto is probably pretty short--but this is what I believe: It is through being our truest selves, no matter what, that we will evolve. It's scary, perhaps, it's hard, absolutely; but it's exhilarating--how can it not be?--and if we are to evolve, spiritually, it is what we must do.
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