What if our present reality has everything we need to live our best life.
What is circumstances don’t have to change, because our perspective can?
So, there I was, just the other day, reeling from a number of uncomfortable things, when someone decided to offer me some advice.
It was of course, not advice I could take.
Why this irked me I’m not sure, but without thinking, I said yes, that would be the most obvious solution.
Oh aren’t we all living a life that seems easy for other’s to figure out? So easy, so obvious, but…
What if it doesn’t matter? What if every irksome, uncomfortable experience is nothing more than an earthly exercise;
Just another way ro observe ourselves and maybe get better at being?
How am I doing?
Well
On that day, not so well, (to the human eye) but here is what I realized:
I was having a moment. It passed. It seemed worse then it was because of how I was thinking about it. I saw it. I saw the part I played. I understood why I thought the way I did.
Understanding helped me be compassionate, compassion helped me lighten up.
Compassion for the others, but also compassion for my struggling self.
So for a split second, I stepped back and saw myself. Struggling, impatient, uncomfortable.
With kind eyes and calm confidence I knew it was already passing.
I wonder if being human is just a lot of waking up and fallng back to sleep. Physically and mentally.
Remember
Forget
Remember
Forget.
Impossible to stay awake all the time.
The eighth limb of the yoga sutra philosophy is called ‘Samadhi’. Loosely translated, its a fluctuating state of bliss or realization of all. What is, is what is, and we are okay inside of it.
Since Spring and Winter merged this year in New England, it should be no surprise that its 46 and raining again.
Gray skies, wind off the sea, rattling windows, the whole thing.
It’s Memorial Day weekend. According to my weather ap, summer isn’t even around the corner. No summer weather is coming soon for us.
If things were slightly different, I wonder if it wouldn’t be so bad.
I don’t mind the rain. I love many rain related things, I appreciate the green and the flowers. The fresh smell…
For a few reasons rain is a weird challenge here. Strange that in a place that has such diverse weather patterns, weather is so affecting of everything and everyone.
I find myself constantly wondering what can make this better? What can help us get through the next five days? I never have this amount of attention on weather usually.
I worry about everyone. I can’t believe my own relief and gratitude for just making it to bedtime.
What the heck? Its 3:36pm. So many long hours lay ahead. Too many gray and rain filled days.
Conflicts are harder. Every part of my situation is so much harder in this weather. I wish I could hibernate until the sun comes out, then troubleshoot through the rest of what’s already difficult.
Mental health, man, I am feeling compassion for anyone who struggles. The general climate of everything, of life on planet earth, all of it, feels lousy.
And now its going to rain for two weeks.
Cold. Wind. Rain.
Straight.
No summer
In the middle of all this rain-thought, I went to yoga.
And stayed.
What happened to my brain there was the exact miracle that I needed.
I stopped thinking about the weather. I stopped thinking about the plight and struggle, the conflicts, the worry.
I stopped thinking.
For a little while I just breathed and moved.
There was the reminder that we are more than this humaness. We are much more. For a small part of the day, energy shifted and lightened. The rain kept falling, but everything felt suspended. Paused.
Until I got back in my car. Checked plans. Returned to the ‘real world’
Which had not shifted or changed. Had instead, if anything, taken a worse turn.
I am left maveling at the mind phenomenon that I experienced. No real thing changed. Nothing popped up for me to look forward to. No fun. No better circumstances…
Plus, it was fleeting. I quickly returned to the mire, but there was something good bookended by its opposite. Something amazing in the middle that has me wondering once again, about the power of my own mind.
I was tricked into looking in a different direction, for one short moment, I got relief.
I am not new to the this. I feel like I have been studying mindfulness and mind science for years. For some reason, today, I saw from a different perspective.
I hope I won’t forget this. The sweetness of relief, the depth of discomfort. The shifts of energy back and forth and back.
I saw how real the ‘real world’ can feel and be. How thoroughly convincing and absolute, life can appear. I saw how nothing came along nothing changed, only my focus. I saw how impossible it seemed and was! But then wasn’t. I guess I needed a strong dose of what isn’t helpful to sandwich the extreme contast of what is, so I could really experience the difference.
Epilogue: The rain finally stopped. Its 7pm on Monday night. I am enjoying a rare moment in the sunshine sitting peacefully beside my partially planted garden. Temperatures climbed to 64 which feels as miraculous as anything. Moods shifted. The weather ap changed its forecast. A measure of disgruntledness lingers, but feels less all encompassing. I can sidestep. Ony a few more hours until bedtime.
Here is my little painting on the wall in a little gallery in New London.
(downtown New London is very cute)
I have my toe in the door.
Its not easy to break into a new art scene. Plus the pandemic changed everything, art is no exception.
I was pleasantly surprised that all four of the local area galleries were putting up shows when I visited. One was very new and we were lucky enough to have the director show us all around.
Another director encouraged me to submit for an upcoming show. The cause was good, I liked the theme, so I did. She also invited me to sell my books there.
Friendliness all around.
I’m making friends with local artists, I set up my studio space. I’m teaching classes. I’m even doing some interior design work.
I guess hiding out in New England, for me, has run its course.
I heard a good story about an owl recently and the message was simply : you don’t have to hide, instead, be big!
I am learning to notice. I am learning to appreciate little things that often get overlooked because they are wedged between obvious noticable problematic things.
This is my new super power.
Yesterday was one of those days. Cold, gray, Monday. No one seemed to be in a good mood. Even at yoga. I think the weather is starting to get even the toughest New Englander down. Its almost June, but still in the 40s and 50s. Days of rain and wind and gray. On top of the rest of whats on the news…
Yesterday, a portion of road closure, rerouted me through a beautiful forest scape. Both sides of the road, trees for as far as the eye could see. At long last, I noticed, that the leaves are back. Bright green and bursting to life, pops of pink and white flowering bushes and trees interspersed in wide tall swaths of green.
Spring has bonanza moments here. As nature wakes itself up, birds are everywhere calling to one another long before dawn, carrying foliage, building nests. A mother fox lives down the road with her four adorable babies. Bunnies, squirrels, badgers. It’s practically a Beatrix Potter story. And exactly that magical.
I kept looking at the trees. Only a few weeks ago, lifeless sticks, now swaying as if dancing, while tiny unfurowing leaves flutter in the wind. Its kinda breathtaking, somethings you have to notice to appreciate, but once you do…
Usually for reasons that we never fully understand.
Truly, I think its pretty common. There are many careers that have it built into them. Sales, writing, music, acting, art. But also just getting a job, college acceptance. Making friends…Life is full of chances for us to gamble with rejection, so why is it so hard? How can we make it easier. Should we?
Maybe it just is what it is and we get to experience who we are around it.
I’ve spent a fair amount of time avoiding rejection, thinking that if only my skin were thicker, if only I could get tougher, then.
THEN I will contend with it. Or there’s the: …maybe if my art gets better…
In the mean time, I’ll stick to things I know are a sure bet.
Well.
I went ahead anyway. Skin as is.
I got two separate rejection emails this week.
One from submissions to a gallery, the other from a query letter for my book. They were not fun to read, but I reminded myself that most writers receive several rejection letters before they find acceptance.
The gallery did accept one of my painting and the director (who was not a juror) was excited to sell my book. In their defense, it is a very small town in Connecticut, there were no other abstract expressionist paintings submitted, the theme was very specific and the jurors seemed to favor more obvious illustrations of the theme. The jurors came from other places, even smaller towns. One of the reasons I avoided getting involved with art here was the cultural tradition of sail boats and landscapes. Ironically, my one painting that was accepted, was about me finding peace with feeling like a fish out of water here on this coast. Not reguarding art, just being foreign.
I thought I’d had my share of rejection, growing up, moving a lot, submitting art, dating…I decided somewhere along the way, that it wasn’t my thing. Is it anyone’s? Do I have to dodge discomfort, I don’t think so. I suspect small calculated risks are worth it. I have decided that I can handle it.
How am I feeling now that I’ve absorbed the rejection, picked up my paintings, told people, and lived.
I don’t like to give advice, but I wish I’d given myself this a long while ago.
Something like, if it feels uncomfortable don’t do it.
Or
If you can’t avoid, wear a warm coat
Stay out of the wind, and when you can’t, wear a hat.
Don’t cross paths with wolves or coyotes or get into conversations about them.
If its none of your business, don’t talk. If it becomes your business, let the other person talk first (you’ll know).
Go to yoga even if its fake Easter. Do your asigned part, but also take care of you. Be helpful if needed, stay within the peramiters. Dress as if it’s actually Easter.
Sometimes being right and quiet is the best way to be right.
Being right in some (most) cases doesn’t matter at all.
I’ve learned the hard way. It took a few years. Im not sure why, but I get it now. Put the oxygen mask on youself first. Its a metaphor for life.
I now spend most of my time here doing things I like doing. I got a job teaching, I walk with a friend, we laugh, I do a ridiculous amount of yoga, I even have my art in a gallery, my books in a handful of establishments. Instead of enduring, I’m sidestepping. Instead of trying to blend in, I decided not to.
Weirdly, even when others are spending their days doing things they don’t want to do, and disliking it every step and in every conversation, I give up any guilt for being happy. Also weirdly, if I’m happy, I tend not to be part of problems.
Here’s the yoga term I just learned:
“Ahimsa”.
Its a Sanskrit word that means do the opposite of harm. Not just do no harm, but actively do good. Uplift, inspire, encourage, love, show kindness, invoke joy. Nurture, heal, help…
As my yoga teacher suggested, we start with ourself!
Its a good metaphor. On days with more time, I might have gone around. I don’t know what is on the other side, though. It might be blocked also.
A sudden change of plan.
Since arriving in New England this is how its been going. Not because there is a police car with flashing lights blocking the road.
Other complications abound. No forward movement. Energetic road blocks seems to be popping up often.
G, ready to finish the outdoor shower we had plumbed last year, arrives home with materials. Its the one thing he is fairly certain will be agreed to.
A hose with a crack in it is coiled loosely where the shower floor is. The broken hose was not there last year, apparently it was in the shed because it was broken, but has been relocated quite recently.
Several conversations about fixing this hose were not that interesting, so it wasn’t until recently that I put the two together.
To G’s surprise, keeping the hose where it now is, is not negotiable, or at least, wasn’t, until he came up with an idea to get a hose holder.
He says he has never had luck with fixing hoses. (I didn’t know this, when was he fixing hoses?) She insists her late husband did it all the time. (I’m picturing an old hose getting smaller and smaller with a new end being added every time it gets a new hole). I watch the conversation like a tennis match.
It seems like a problem that might have been solved days ago. New hose, a hose hanger, shower finished. I don’t know about these things, so best not to comment.
Its been several days. The hose hasn’t budged. This is only one of the many big and small roadblocks.
I manage to dodge most of them, but the home energy is challenging. Often I understand the many sides, but am powerless to change any of it. So. I listen. I try to understand. I give them space and hope time will help work things out.
The event in town will be over soon. I know the police car will turn off the flashing lights and drive away. Another class will start. Another day will come along.
This year I thought I was prepared for contradictions and logic that I wouldn’t understand. I’m not leveled by it, but still sometimes surprised.
Is it really so bad to slow things down or even stop now and then? The hose and shower issue will resolve. Roads need to be blocked at times. Its okay. There are always other ways to go or new plans to be made.
…weeks later…
New hoses have been purchased. A compnay was hired to put down seed, watering has become the focus. Hoses are strewn out 175 feet in a few directions, across the driveway, around the back, two old school sprinklers are on a timer which miraculously comes on twice a day. The grass looks healthy and tall, seed is still germinating
Between all the rain and watering, grass HAS HAD to grow. The grubs of past years seem to have disappeared.
Meanwhile, life marches on and on.
Situations come up and resolve.
Months later…
Grass grew. Was cut and grew again. Watering is still an ongoing discussion.
The warm months are here now and all neighboring grass is looking dry and brownish in spots. Ours, on it’s rigorous watering schedule, is lush and green.
I watched this grow as a priority. Grass.
Meanwhile, I have made my own.
Priorities.
I am back in my attic studio painting every day. 5:30 am until the heat chases me out or yoga. Its been a a learning curve of adjustment, but I might have found something that works. At least for now, I feel some forward movement. I am suddenly surrounded by paintings of octopuses.
Obviously I am the crazy one with the silliest of priorities,
I would say that the big obvious risks are more dramatic, but the little ones have changed my existence and experiences just as significantly.
When I was young, I was instructed, and tried, to do all the ‘right’ things so I could insure that nothing bad would happen. The things that were ‘correct’ according to the world as my parents saw it, were not always easy for me, but I struggled to do them. I often became frustrated with myself for falling short or ‘failing’.
If ever I risked listening to myself and following my inner voice, I would feel both good and bad. Bad for not complying, good for not complying.
I did that enough to get used to it. Sort of. The more I do it, the easier it gets.
What I think I learned, is that I can trust my intuition. If something feels off, I know its not right for me. It might be right for another, which was another thing, because I was taught growing up that there was only one right way. Anything else was wrong.
I spent years doing everything ‘wrong’, because I had to. (I was sure I was wired wrong).
Wrong is an interesting absolute.
Life is luckily long enough to learn a thing or two about perspective…
I risked not listening to my parents, society, teachers, friends, religious leaders, anyone, when the direction felt off. I risked following through with things that resonated. (I listened enough to regret listening too).
Little things that added up to a somewhat feral heart. No apologizes now, looking back I was practicing courage. I didn’t know it at the time, but the big and little risks of listening to me incrementally helped me see me, and be me and know me better.
Which might be the whole point…at least for me because I spent so long caring about trying to care about things that weren’t. Along with what everyone thought about me and my wacky ideas.
Here’s what is actually wacky: caring about what anyone else thinks enough to not listen to one’s own self.
I was trained to care, even when I didn’t. I learned that I should for many wacky reasons. Stir some guilt into the equation and its a wonder I ever stopped.
is what I ask whenever I’m having a particularly rough moment.
Often I can’t see any good solution, but I never want to decide there isn’t one because I know there is a vast intelligence out there working out much bigger, much harder problems than I’m probably having.
I trust that time, combined with me letting go, will adjust perspectives and usually move things.
Asking that one question is helpful because it keeps me from starting on the all-is-lost-downward spiral that I may otherwise be about to fall into.
Sometimes, I even remember past issues that felt insurmountable, then gently played out into better than I could have imagined scenarios.
I have several examples, but here is one I’m experiencing right now:
Back on the east coast, many of the issues we endured previously have resolved and been replaced by good things. On this first day of May, I already have a fun new position teaching cooking class and meditation. My book is being sold in three separate locations, I dropped off paintings ready for hanging in a gallery, yoga is even better than it was, I just today got my keys to a studio/work space.
Its starting off in a completely different way than other years.
I had to let go of many things, many concepts, many beliefs. I had no choice but to let time do its magic. Plus I think I had lessons I needed to learn. How to care differently for one thing and how to disern what truly matters.
A lot can change as the years pass. Asking good questions is one way for me to find some perspective and remember there are possibilities I wouldn’t have thought of.
Plus the sun is out. No clouds just bright and clear.
How am I dressed? I’m quite sure it doesn’t matter since I have on my warmest gigantic coat.
Ugg boots are not warm enough, really how practical is suede when it rains, (this happens unpredictably often, even if its not mentioned in the forcast). My coat has a hood. This is very practical. Plus I have no shame.
Yesterday I was walking behind two girls without coats. My hood was zipped and buttoned around my neck. Hardy, these New Englanders weren’t bothered by the cold wind blowing relentlessly off the water. (Directly into our ears). Not even a little.
Me? I can’t look at the weather ap without feeling depressed. Walking in 36 degree windy weather isn’t my favorite. Neither is knowing its going to be like this for at least ten more days straight.
Peace Kit 