Thank you, thank you, to those who attended the evening of art last night. Because of you, it was a glorious evening I am thrilled to have been a part of. We will host another before the summer is out. Of course, if any of you would like to host an arts event at your home or venue like the reading/concert held on Saturday, please let me know. It’s a joy to perform/share my heart with you. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.
I am also feeling prompted to commit to recording a demo before the summer ends. I have no idea whether this is possible at this point, but I am putting it out there. Thank you to everyone for your encouragement.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Hope, Honesty, Curiosity, and Love
Never underestimate hope, honesty, curiosity, or love. When in doubt, choose one of those.
Hope. Some would say that hope is weak, that a person should do more than just hope. As long as ideas, dreams, and desires remain hopes, they remain unreal. But I counter that sometimes hope is all we have.
While individuals like the homeless desperately need food and shelter, they also need hope. Without regular reminders of life’s potential goodness, how will the disadvantaged feel motivated to pursue anything? How can a person strive for something they have never been made aware of? People in difficult circumstances many times do not have the access, knowledge, or mental/physical capacity, to actively make life changes. But if they have hope, at least their lives can be a little more bearable right now, until the appropriate access, knowledge, or help does come along.
Honesty. Relationships hinge on honesty. I don’t feel clean and free unless I am fully myself, not hiding anything. As long as I hold back something that needs to be said, I only partially express myself. Honesty means more than telling the truth about events or feelings; it’s about being one’s true self at all times.
I want to live my life without the need to hide anything. To achieve this, I will spend less time worrying about what other people think and more time saying the things that get caught between my heart and my lips. I can also respect who other people are and cherish it when they share honestly with me. Honesty breeds honesty, which leads to deeper, more fulfilling relationships. Disagreements I often avoid can lead to meaningful meetings of the minds.
Curiosity. I can usually infuse any emotion I’m feeling with curiosity and get a beneficial outcome. It’s as simple as asking questions. Say I feel afraid. Instead of cowering or trying to escape, I can ask, “What do I fear? Why do I fear that? What belief is generating this response? Can I let go of that belief?” If angry or resentful, I can ask, “Who am I angry with? Am I angry with myself? Is there something I can create with this anger? Is there something that needs to be said?”
Asking questions usually yields more fulfilling results than yelling at someone or sending a nasty email. Practicing curiosity helps me become a better listener and learner as well as fostering an increasing understanding of myself and others.
Love. All of the above open us up to loving more and better. When we catch a glimpse of the bright side, we can share that with others. We can grow love as a community through shared hope.
Honesty uncovers buried layers in people, allowing us to appreciate the hidden treasures in ourselves and others. By committing to honesty, we become more courageous and free to do all the loving acts we’ve always dreamed of.
And curiosity helps us find love in unexpected places. By remaining inquisitive toward the world, we see love where we thought only resentment existed.
Choosing to love can seem daunting. Sometimes, I need to choose one of the other three in order to make it there. It’s always worth it.
Hope. Some would say that hope is weak, that a person should do more than just hope. As long as ideas, dreams, and desires remain hopes, they remain unreal. But I counter that sometimes hope is all we have.
While individuals like the homeless desperately need food and shelter, they also need hope. Without regular reminders of life’s potential goodness, how will the disadvantaged feel motivated to pursue anything? How can a person strive for something they have never been made aware of? People in difficult circumstances many times do not have the access, knowledge, or mental/physical capacity, to actively make life changes. But if they have hope, at least their lives can be a little more bearable right now, until the appropriate access, knowledge, or help does come along.
Honesty. Relationships hinge on honesty. I don’t feel clean and free unless I am fully myself, not hiding anything. As long as I hold back something that needs to be said, I only partially express myself. Honesty means more than telling the truth about events or feelings; it’s about being one’s true self at all times.
I want to live my life without the need to hide anything. To achieve this, I will spend less time worrying about what other people think and more time saying the things that get caught between my heart and my lips. I can also respect who other people are and cherish it when they share honestly with me. Honesty breeds honesty, which leads to deeper, more fulfilling relationships. Disagreements I often avoid can lead to meaningful meetings of the minds.
Curiosity. I can usually infuse any emotion I’m feeling with curiosity and get a beneficial outcome. It’s as simple as asking questions. Say I feel afraid. Instead of cowering or trying to escape, I can ask, “What do I fear? Why do I fear that? What belief is generating this response? Can I let go of that belief?” If angry or resentful, I can ask, “Who am I angry with? Am I angry with myself? Is there something I can create with this anger? Is there something that needs to be said?”
Asking questions usually yields more fulfilling results than yelling at someone or sending a nasty email. Practicing curiosity helps me become a better listener and learner as well as fostering an increasing understanding of myself and others.
Love. All of the above open us up to loving more and better. When we catch a glimpse of the bright side, we can share that with others. We can grow love as a community through shared hope.
Honesty uncovers buried layers in people, allowing us to appreciate the hidden treasures in ourselves and others. By committing to honesty, we become more courageous and free to do all the loving acts we’ve always dreamed of.
And curiosity helps us find love in unexpected places. By remaining inquisitive toward the world, we see love where we thought only resentment existed.
Choosing to love can seem daunting. Sometimes, I need to choose one of the other three in order to make it there. It’s always worth it.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Swap the Thought
Advice. There are few things I react more strongly to than the advice of others. I never want to take it! I instantly think I know better and assume the person could not see things from my complex point of view. It’s especially insulting when the advice-giving party offers suggestions I’ve already considered myself. Does s/he not think I’m smart enough to figure this out on my own?
Of course, this completely backfires when I find myself in situations I am not at all smart enough to figure out. Countless times, I find, to my dismay, that I am not strong or knowledgeable enough to accomplish a task set before me. Questions confuse me. I am physically unable to move an object or get to a certain place. I may simply lack knowledge of a location or subject. All of these circumstances require that I ask for help. My tendency to put off asking for help until the last, most dire moment, has made for more than one stressful evening.
Can I let my armor down? Can I trust the goodness of people? This is the challenge. I can no longer look simply at my instantaneous, almost unconscious rejection of help when it is offered. I can no longer sit and puzzle over why I would beg for help in my prayers and in my home alone and then deny the need for it when with other people. I must examine my mistrust of human beings in general.
In the past, people let me down fairly regularly. Indeed, I have dealt with many individuals who were not as smart, responsible, or creative as I am. Unfortunately, those interactions made more of an impression on me than the times I received extraordinary help or met people whose intelligence, strength, awareness, and artistry exceeded mine. I want to recall more of the satisfying, uplifting interpersonal encounters in my life.
This is the new project: Meditate on the best social interactions I’ve had in my life. Examine what made them so great. A large portion of those memories involve me receiving help. Oftentimes, I’m simultaneously giving help without even knowing it, but I want to concentrate on the gifts I’ve received rather than what I give. By filling my thoughts with and directing my focus toward the positive traits of others, I’m more likely to tap into the positive qualities of the people I know today. If I can more easily recall times when people have come through for me, the instinct to reject others lessens.
At least, this is the theory. I base it on the fact that I know a vast number of wise, creative, street smart, genuinely helpful people. None of them think I’m stupid, but all of them would assist me if I needed it and they were available. Seeing the truth of the goodness and capableness of people in this world makes my belief that people aren’t to be trusted seem ridiculous. Sure, there are a lot of nincompoops out there, but even they have something to offer and will offer it when the need arises. It’s just true. Even if a person can’t offer one thing, they may be able to offer another.
I want to put my preconceived notions about people to the side so that I can smile and accept it when someone comes along beside me and offers to help with a project. Right now, a wall immediately comes up, and I put off an “I am perfectly capable—I certainly don’t need you” vibe. I can’t stop that from happening simply through willpower. I have to start filling my head with thoughts that will counter the negative beliefs I have about human beings in general.
This approach has worked in other areas. Time and time again, telling myself to not binge or not be anxious or not freak out about the cleanliness of my apartment has no effect. Only by replacing those thoughts with others—such as images of eating grand meals that ended with me feeling happy and full, memories of times when troublesome situations worked out without me doing a thing, and recollections of all the times I have not been ill or suffered any negative consequences after forgetting to clean the bathroom—can I develop new patterns of behavior.
Now, I am replacing the memories of people’s unreliability and stupidity with reflections on certain individuals’ conscientiousness and brilliance. Soon, those images will outnumber the negative ones, and my instinctive rejection of help will hopefully diminish. I want to be open and honest with people, but how will I get the chance if everyone is afraid to approach me in the first place?
We’ll see if this thought-replacement exercise works as well now as it has in the past. I encourage you to test it for yourself. It’s not a quick fix, but I have high hopes.
Of course, this completely backfires when I find myself in situations I am not at all smart enough to figure out. Countless times, I find, to my dismay, that I am not strong or knowledgeable enough to accomplish a task set before me. Questions confuse me. I am physically unable to move an object or get to a certain place. I may simply lack knowledge of a location or subject. All of these circumstances require that I ask for help. My tendency to put off asking for help until the last, most dire moment, has made for more than one stressful evening.
Can I let my armor down? Can I trust the goodness of people? This is the challenge. I can no longer look simply at my instantaneous, almost unconscious rejection of help when it is offered. I can no longer sit and puzzle over why I would beg for help in my prayers and in my home alone and then deny the need for it when with other people. I must examine my mistrust of human beings in general.
In the past, people let me down fairly regularly. Indeed, I have dealt with many individuals who were not as smart, responsible, or creative as I am. Unfortunately, those interactions made more of an impression on me than the times I received extraordinary help or met people whose intelligence, strength, awareness, and artistry exceeded mine. I want to recall more of the satisfying, uplifting interpersonal encounters in my life.
This is the new project: Meditate on the best social interactions I’ve had in my life. Examine what made them so great. A large portion of those memories involve me receiving help. Oftentimes, I’m simultaneously giving help without even knowing it, but I want to concentrate on the gifts I’ve received rather than what I give. By filling my thoughts with and directing my focus toward the positive traits of others, I’m more likely to tap into the positive qualities of the people I know today. If I can more easily recall times when people have come through for me, the instinct to reject others lessens.
At least, this is the theory. I base it on the fact that I know a vast number of wise, creative, street smart, genuinely helpful people. None of them think I’m stupid, but all of them would assist me if I needed it and they were available. Seeing the truth of the goodness and capableness of people in this world makes my belief that people aren’t to be trusted seem ridiculous. Sure, there are a lot of nincompoops out there, but even they have something to offer and will offer it when the need arises. It’s just true. Even if a person can’t offer one thing, they may be able to offer another.
I want to put my preconceived notions about people to the side so that I can smile and accept it when someone comes along beside me and offers to help with a project. Right now, a wall immediately comes up, and I put off an “I am perfectly capable—I certainly don’t need you” vibe. I can’t stop that from happening simply through willpower. I have to start filling my head with thoughts that will counter the negative beliefs I have about human beings in general.
This approach has worked in other areas. Time and time again, telling myself to not binge or not be anxious or not freak out about the cleanliness of my apartment has no effect. Only by replacing those thoughts with others—such as images of eating grand meals that ended with me feeling happy and full, memories of times when troublesome situations worked out without me doing a thing, and recollections of all the times I have not been ill or suffered any negative consequences after forgetting to clean the bathroom—can I develop new patterns of behavior.
Now, I am replacing the memories of people’s unreliability and stupidity with reflections on certain individuals’ conscientiousness and brilliance. Soon, those images will outnumber the negative ones, and my instinctive rejection of help will hopefully diminish. I want to be open and honest with people, but how will I get the chance if everyone is afraid to approach me in the first place?
We’ll see if this thought-replacement exercise works as well now as it has in the past. I encourage you to test it for yourself. It’s not a quick fix, but I have high hopes.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Permission
Lately, life has been about permission—well, permission and impatience, but I’m focusing on the former for this post. I find that too often, I live in bondage to myself. Instead, I want to be the loving person that comes with compassion and trust to unlock my chains.
But I can I give myself permission? What if I allowed everything? What if everything was okay? What would happen—what would I do—then?
At first speculation, it seems like I would do all kinds of unhealthy things like drink too much, eat too much, smoke, or try every drug under the sun. But that has not been my experience. Although, by giving myself total permission, I claim license to do any of those things, I simultaneously acknowledge my license to do everything else, too. When everything is allowed, all choices are equal, and it’s easier for me to spot my true desires.
Yes, every choice is equal. If there are no better-thans, do I trust solely in my own desires? On the surface, this can seem dangerous. But really, it’s a simple alleviation of guilt. Listening to my desires does not mean abandoning everything I’ve learned over years of trial and error. The main breakthrough here is that where there is no shame, there is freedom. I am a human being who uses that freedom wisely and wants the best for myself and the world, even if I don’t know what the best is yet.
I make a massive amount of choices simply in order to avoid guilt. I hate feeling guilty, so I try to always pick the “best” thing to do, often disregarding my personal desires/dreams and the fact that I usually have no clue what the “best” thing actually is. By granting myself permission to do everything, even the “bad” things, I free myself to make a choice without feeling guilty that I didn’t choose something “better.”
I do not want to live in fear of guilt. I want to see each option clearly and make a decision based on a combination of external circumstances, inner propensities, and my knowledge and intuitive sense about what is best. Decisions overwhelm me when the options are blurred by an arbitrary ranking system my psyche has developed over the years that places things on a scale of “good” to “bad,” a scale that much of the time fails to account for the vast array of mitigating circumstances that could surround any one decision.
Do I have permission to cancel at the last minute? Do I have permission to say no to this person? Do I have permission to say yes? Do I have permission to change a previous decision? Do I have permission to do nothing? Do I have permission to ask more questions?
By throwing away my list of approved actions, I open myself up to an infinite number of paths. Perhaps my choices aren’t limited to a simple yes or no. Perhaps I can ask for more information or for a different date or location. Or could I ask for more time? Maybe I don’t have to choose anything at all. Maybe I can disregard this decision and move on to other things. When none of the options are bad, creativity springs to life and reveals new ways of thinking.
Because I have learned many of life’s lessons through the lens of food, I can explain this liberation with a food metaphor. When a person is controlled by an eating disorder, dieting, or even has taken for granted misguided ideas that certain foods are bad or good, selecting an item from a restaurant menu can be a nightmare. On the surface, it might appear that the dilemma results from a menu too packed with choices. It contains too many selections, too many combinations, too many tastes. But perhaps this is not the issue.
The true issue is that the person at the restaurant believes that an item (or combination of items) exists on the menu that will be better than everything else. The valuation of one item over another can be based on many factors: quantity; nutritional information; color; texture; price; or even whether it is categorized as an appetizer, entrée, breakfast or lunch, salad, or dessert. Everyone has his/her own hang-ups.
Now, what if everything on the menu was equal? I, of course, am not accounting for those people with allergies, etc. But I speak from personal experience of the change, the widening of scope, that resulted from discarding the system I relied on to help me make day-to-day meal decisions. I thought my system helped me make menu choices. However, in hindsight, I see that adhering to my beloved system, in fact, resulted in panic if the “right” items weren’t available or if what ultimately showed up on my plate didn’t match what I thought it would be when I ordered. It also made a perusal of the menu a sort of scavenger hunt for the right things instead of an exploration of new tastes. My system, in effect, served as blinders. I thought that whittling down the choices was best, when in fact, I was blind to the array of options and too busy hunting for the “right” food to listen to my body’s needs.
Leaving the system behind, I realized that any choice could be okay. I could take a breath, hear my body, and choose something to eat. Today, I have the power to order it cooked specific ways, with certain ingredients, or in combination with other items. I even have the power to not order anything at all or try something most people wouldn’t usually eat at that location or time of day. I can pick an item at random, ask the server for more information, or request an off-the-menu special.
If my order doesn’t show up as I envisioned, I can send it back or accept and eat it, knowing that what I choose to eat does not make me a better or worse person. Food doesn’t have that authority.
So I must ask, do any of our choices make us better or worse people? This question challenges some, who would contend that yes, our choices reflect the kinds of people we are. I wouldn’t flatly disagree but would follow up with: What standard are we using to measure “good” and “bad”? What makes one option “bad” and another “good”?
Too many variances exist to support hardwired measurement systems that work in every circumstance. By equalizing all choices, everything on life’s menu becomes visible, including combinations I never would have noticed before with my blinders on. Now, I see every choice clearly and don’t have a ranking system overshadowing my true emotions and needs.
Give yourself permission. Allow yourself to be who you are. In difficult situations, many times, all we have to do is step back and ask, “Am I allowed to feel this way/do this thing/be this person?” Then, we can remind ourselves, “Yes, I am allowed to feel/do/be that.”
Now, do you want to continue on the same path, or do you want to change? Neither choice is better or worse. What do you feel is best for you, regardless of any preconceived ideas? By giving yourself permission, you accept life as it is, and it’s easier to accept others as they are. We are allowed to be ourselves. It’s just true.
But I can I give myself permission? What if I allowed everything? What if everything was okay? What would happen—what would I do—then?
At first speculation, it seems like I would do all kinds of unhealthy things like drink too much, eat too much, smoke, or try every drug under the sun. But that has not been my experience. Although, by giving myself total permission, I claim license to do any of those things, I simultaneously acknowledge my license to do everything else, too. When everything is allowed, all choices are equal, and it’s easier for me to spot my true desires.
Yes, every choice is equal. If there are no better-thans, do I trust solely in my own desires? On the surface, this can seem dangerous. But really, it’s a simple alleviation of guilt. Listening to my desires does not mean abandoning everything I’ve learned over years of trial and error. The main breakthrough here is that where there is no shame, there is freedom. I am a human being who uses that freedom wisely and wants the best for myself and the world, even if I don’t know what the best is yet.
I make a massive amount of choices simply in order to avoid guilt. I hate feeling guilty, so I try to always pick the “best” thing to do, often disregarding my personal desires/dreams and the fact that I usually have no clue what the “best” thing actually is. By granting myself permission to do everything, even the “bad” things, I free myself to make a choice without feeling guilty that I didn’t choose something “better.”
I do not want to live in fear of guilt. I want to see each option clearly and make a decision based on a combination of external circumstances, inner propensities, and my knowledge and intuitive sense about what is best. Decisions overwhelm me when the options are blurred by an arbitrary ranking system my psyche has developed over the years that places things on a scale of “good” to “bad,” a scale that much of the time fails to account for the vast array of mitigating circumstances that could surround any one decision.
Do I have permission to cancel at the last minute? Do I have permission to say no to this person? Do I have permission to say yes? Do I have permission to change a previous decision? Do I have permission to do nothing? Do I have permission to ask more questions?
By throwing away my list of approved actions, I open myself up to an infinite number of paths. Perhaps my choices aren’t limited to a simple yes or no. Perhaps I can ask for more information or for a different date or location. Or could I ask for more time? Maybe I don’t have to choose anything at all. Maybe I can disregard this decision and move on to other things. When none of the options are bad, creativity springs to life and reveals new ways of thinking.
Because I have learned many of life’s lessons through the lens of food, I can explain this liberation with a food metaphor. When a person is controlled by an eating disorder, dieting, or even has taken for granted misguided ideas that certain foods are bad or good, selecting an item from a restaurant menu can be a nightmare. On the surface, it might appear that the dilemma results from a menu too packed with choices. It contains too many selections, too many combinations, too many tastes. But perhaps this is not the issue.
The true issue is that the person at the restaurant believes that an item (or combination of items) exists on the menu that will be better than everything else. The valuation of one item over another can be based on many factors: quantity; nutritional information; color; texture; price; or even whether it is categorized as an appetizer, entrée, breakfast or lunch, salad, or dessert. Everyone has his/her own hang-ups.
Now, what if everything on the menu was equal? I, of course, am not accounting for those people with allergies, etc. But I speak from personal experience of the change, the widening of scope, that resulted from discarding the system I relied on to help me make day-to-day meal decisions. I thought my system helped me make menu choices. However, in hindsight, I see that adhering to my beloved system, in fact, resulted in panic if the “right” items weren’t available or if what ultimately showed up on my plate didn’t match what I thought it would be when I ordered. It also made a perusal of the menu a sort of scavenger hunt for the right things instead of an exploration of new tastes. My system, in effect, served as blinders. I thought that whittling down the choices was best, when in fact, I was blind to the array of options and too busy hunting for the “right” food to listen to my body’s needs.
Leaving the system behind, I realized that any choice could be okay. I could take a breath, hear my body, and choose something to eat. Today, I have the power to order it cooked specific ways, with certain ingredients, or in combination with other items. I even have the power to not order anything at all or try something most people wouldn’t usually eat at that location or time of day. I can pick an item at random, ask the server for more information, or request an off-the-menu special.
If my order doesn’t show up as I envisioned, I can send it back or accept and eat it, knowing that what I choose to eat does not make me a better or worse person. Food doesn’t have that authority.
So I must ask, do any of our choices make us better or worse people? This question challenges some, who would contend that yes, our choices reflect the kinds of people we are. I wouldn’t flatly disagree but would follow up with: What standard are we using to measure “good” and “bad”? What makes one option “bad” and another “good”?
Too many variances exist to support hardwired measurement systems that work in every circumstance. By equalizing all choices, everything on life’s menu becomes visible, including combinations I never would have noticed before with my blinders on. Now, I see every choice clearly and don’t have a ranking system overshadowing my true emotions and needs.
Give yourself permission. Allow yourself to be who you are. In difficult situations, many times, all we have to do is step back and ask, “Am I allowed to feel this way/do this thing/be this person?” Then, we can remind ourselves, “Yes, I am allowed to feel/do/be that.”
Now, do you want to continue on the same path, or do you want to change? Neither choice is better or worse. What do you feel is best for you, regardless of any preconceived ideas? By giving yourself permission, you accept life as it is, and it’s easier to accept others as they are. We are allowed to be ourselves. It’s just true.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wordlin'
Since I feel all a'jumble lately, I thought I'd tell you about www.wordle.net, a great site that creates word clouds based on text you cut and paste or a specific web page that you specify. The more times a word is used, the larger it appears in the cloud. Wordle also allows you to customize the colors, look, and orientation of the word cloud.
Seriously, as someone who loves collages and words, it can be a real time consumer for me. It's fun to see different things I or others have written broken down this way. Key themes (or overused expressions) pop out immediately.
Anyway, here's the Wordle created from the text of all of my blog entries for this year (since January 1, 2009).
Seriously, as someone who loves collages and words, it can be a real time consumer for me. It's fun to see different things I or others have written broken down this way. Key themes (or overused expressions) pop out immediately.
Anyway, here's the Wordle created from the text of all of my blog entries for this year (since January 1, 2009).
Perty, ain't it? Have fun making your own!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Someone Else Entirely
I once laughed at a suggestion I read in a self-help book: For one day, pretend you do not have an eating disorder. Imagine a person other than yourself, who can be anything except eating disordered, and be her for a single day.
It’s not that this seemed ludicrous—just a bit silly. Ah, those were back in the days before I realized the immense fun of being silly and ridiculous. Now, I’ve set ridiculousness as a daily goal (mostly because it’s one I know that I can easily achieve).
Anyway, I have never completely done this (pretend to be an entirely different person for a day). I have followed this practice for a few hours at a time, especially for activities I may not be too excited about. Imagining myself as someone different can certainly spice things up. And when necessary errands seem unbearably dull, I’ll sometimes apply eccentric make-up and saunter through the aisles at Wal-mart as a person who does things I never would.
Those are all very short-term applications, though. Today, I discovered the power of asserting myself as a different person for an entire day.
I did not create a whole new persona; I simply decided to pretend that a couple of my values had shifted. I decided that, just for today, I am not going to be a person who cares about exercising. Instead, I’m a person who cares passionately about music. I didn’t specify how I related to my eating disorder or how I would spend my time. I just decided to behave as I felt I would if I truly cared about music much more than exercising or maintaining a perfect body.
Freedom. Freedom is the experience. And you know what I also found? This person who values music above exercise—she is the real me. I am my dreams. I do value music. It’s no wonder that I resent the times when I force myself to exercise when I would rather play music. I know what I would prefer; I know what is truly important to me.
This isn’t to say I should stop exercising entirely. For today, however, I did practice a song instead of working out before heading to the office. I also came home and spent a good deal of time working on some other music, practicing and finishing up a new song, instead of doing anything else. Valuing music highly also changed my orientation toward all the to-dos that often nag me when I get home. Today, I was able to say, “No, I do not value those things right now. I value music, and that is what I’m going to do. There is time for you later.” Deciding to maintain this mentality for an entire day helped me face any obstacle that got in my way. I knew my primary value and acted on it each time I was faced with a choice between acting out of love for music or a preoccupation with appearances.
Life, ideally, balances itself out between the tasks we have to do to survive in the world, good health, relationships, and self-expression. Sometimes, I get all out of whack. It isn’t that I shouldn't value exercise. Biking and walking are fun. I enjoy activity, no doubt. But I never want to think that one enjoyable (or unenjoyable) thing defines me. If I define myself according to a single measure, life becomes pure drudgery, and I become an awfully boring specimen.
I proved to myself that I can live a day without exercise as a crutch. I let myself flow and shifted my priorities. This shift didn’t change most of my activity for the day, but the mental realignment echoed through me. I felt powerful and true to myself. I took care of myself and my true desires. There have been plenty of stretches in my life when exercise didn’t concern me, and this day reminded me of what it feels like to live without that burden. This is certainly something I thought I would have down pat by now, but today revealed that I still have a huge potential to learn and grow in this area. Struggles ebb and flow.
I highly suggest pretending to be someone else for a day. You may discover new ways of approaching the world or learn that you can do things you fear and not crumble. Or, in being someone else, you may come face to face with who you really are.
It’s not that this seemed ludicrous—just a bit silly. Ah, those were back in the days before I realized the immense fun of being silly and ridiculous. Now, I’ve set ridiculousness as a daily goal (mostly because it’s one I know that I can easily achieve).
Anyway, I have never completely done this (pretend to be an entirely different person for a day). I have followed this practice for a few hours at a time, especially for activities I may not be too excited about. Imagining myself as someone different can certainly spice things up. And when necessary errands seem unbearably dull, I’ll sometimes apply eccentric make-up and saunter through the aisles at Wal-mart as a person who does things I never would.
Those are all very short-term applications, though. Today, I discovered the power of asserting myself as a different person for an entire day.
I did not create a whole new persona; I simply decided to pretend that a couple of my values had shifted. I decided that, just for today, I am not going to be a person who cares about exercising. Instead, I’m a person who cares passionately about music. I didn’t specify how I related to my eating disorder or how I would spend my time. I just decided to behave as I felt I would if I truly cared about music much more than exercising or maintaining a perfect body.
Freedom. Freedom is the experience. And you know what I also found? This person who values music above exercise—she is the real me. I am my dreams. I do value music. It’s no wonder that I resent the times when I force myself to exercise when I would rather play music. I know what I would prefer; I know what is truly important to me.
This isn’t to say I should stop exercising entirely. For today, however, I did practice a song instead of working out before heading to the office. I also came home and spent a good deal of time working on some other music, practicing and finishing up a new song, instead of doing anything else. Valuing music highly also changed my orientation toward all the to-dos that often nag me when I get home. Today, I was able to say, “No, I do not value those things right now. I value music, and that is what I’m going to do. There is time for you later.” Deciding to maintain this mentality for an entire day helped me face any obstacle that got in my way. I knew my primary value and acted on it each time I was faced with a choice between acting out of love for music or a preoccupation with appearances.
Life, ideally, balances itself out between the tasks we have to do to survive in the world, good health, relationships, and self-expression. Sometimes, I get all out of whack. It isn’t that I shouldn't value exercise. Biking and walking are fun. I enjoy activity, no doubt. But I never want to think that one enjoyable (or unenjoyable) thing defines me. If I define myself according to a single measure, life becomes pure drudgery, and I become an awfully boring specimen.
I proved to myself that I can live a day without exercise as a crutch. I let myself flow and shifted my priorities. This shift didn’t change most of my activity for the day, but the mental realignment echoed through me. I felt powerful and true to myself. I took care of myself and my true desires. There have been plenty of stretches in my life when exercise didn’t concern me, and this day reminded me of what it feels like to live without that burden. This is certainly something I thought I would have down pat by now, but today revealed that I still have a huge potential to learn and grow in this area. Struggles ebb and flow.
I highly suggest pretending to be someone else for a day. You may discover new ways of approaching the world or learn that you can do things you fear and not crumble. Or, in being someone else, you may come face to face with who you really are.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Magic Bubbles
“Chef! Chef!” my neighbor’s granddaughter Alexa cries. She can’t quite say my name, and Chef is as close to Michelle as she’s ever heard. “The bubbles!”
Alexa blows a stream of bubbles from the plastic wand her grandmother holds and chases them to the other end of the courtyard. Standing in the empty space where the bubbles floated and popped, she calls, “Come back! Come back!” Over and over, the bubbles are blown and followed by her futile request.
~
Something in this scene warms my heart. Since childhood, I have never stopped crying out for the bubbles to return. When magic comes into my life and fades, I stand in the vacant space and beg it to reappear. Those sparks of magic sustain me but also keep me wanting more.
Nonetheless, watching Alexa chase the bubbles reminds me of magic’s everpresence. If I look for it with earnest patience, magic reveals itself. Furthermore, I am free to grieve when it passes and begin looking for it to emerge in new, unexpected clothing.
~
It starts to rain, and her grandmother asks if she’d like to come inside. “No,” Alexa replies. She prefers to stand in the grass and feel the magic run down her skin.
Alexa blows a stream of bubbles from the plastic wand her grandmother holds and chases them to the other end of the courtyard. Standing in the empty space where the bubbles floated and popped, she calls, “Come back! Come back!” Over and over, the bubbles are blown and followed by her futile request.
~
Something in this scene warms my heart. Since childhood, I have never stopped crying out for the bubbles to return. When magic comes into my life and fades, I stand in the vacant space and beg it to reappear. Those sparks of magic sustain me but also keep me wanting more.
Nonetheless, watching Alexa chase the bubbles reminds me of magic’s everpresence. If I look for it with earnest patience, magic reveals itself. Furthermore, I am free to grieve when it passes and begin looking for it to emerge in new, unexpected clothing.
~
It starts to rain, and her grandmother asks if she’d like to come inside. “No,” Alexa replies. She prefers to stand in the grass and feel the magic run down her skin.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Chasing Flies
I’m chasing a fly. Stupid fly, buzzing and rustling my blinds and spreading its who-knows-what germs all around. That tiny hole in my window screen gave him just the space he needed to break in. Seriously, get lost!
Sometimes, in life, I feel like I’m chasing flies. Little annoyances that aren’t really doing anything to hurt me somehow attract my complete focus. I can ignore them for a while, but before I know it, I can hear nothing but their buzzing. At that point, nothing else matters but swatting the fly or shooing it out the door.
I stop doing whatever task I’m involved with to stand up and hunt down the fly. Is this really a good thing? Would life be better if I could sustain focus on one goal at a time? Are all the germs or bad things I imagine these annoyances are bringing not really so dangerous as I imagine? Perhaps the fly would go away on its own if I simply ignored it and continued the task at hand.
I get frustrated when little things take up more of my time than necessary. Chasing down the fly seems like a simple enough task, especially if I’m in an enclosed place. Surely it won’t take more than a minute or two to swat it or at least get it out the open door. But it always takes longer. The creature eludes me; I smack it with a notebook, and somehow it flies away, unscathed. The fly sucks the time away.
I don’t want these trivial tasks or bothers to consume my days and preoccupy my mind. This means learning to let thoughts come and go as they may without clinging to them, without letting them penetrate the forefront of my thoughts when I want to focus on something else.
Meditation helps with this practice immensely. If I can sit for fifteen or twenty minutes and think a million thoughts without acting on them during a meditation session, I can do it when trying to blog or work or write a song.
This also means trusting myself to remember those “important” thoughts when I do have the time or mental space to do so. If I am working on a particular task, I don’t have to immediately stand up and pay my bills or do the laundry just because a thought that I should do those things floats by. I can remind myself of what I’m working on now and trust that I will accomplish to-dos that need to be done at a later time. I can trust myself to remember and follow through later.
Trust in myself is key. If I don’t trust myself to do things that need to be done, I’ll spend all day chasing flies instead of sitting down and doing work I am truly passionate about. Distractions need not become full-time occupations.
I must learn that I can choose not to act on obsessive thoughts and that I can trust myself to succeed at this life thing. I can let the flies buzz until I’m finished writing/playing/preparing; then, if they are still around, I’ll have plenty of time to shoo them out the door.
Sometimes, in life, I feel like I’m chasing flies. Little annoyances that aren’t really doing anything to hurt me somehow attract my complete focus. I can ignore them for a while, but before I know it, I can hear nothing but their buzzing. At that point, nothing else matters but swatting the fly or shooing it out the door.
I stop doing whatever task I’m involved with to stand up and hunt down the fly. Is this really a good thing? Would life be better if I could sustain focus on one goal at a time? Are all the germs or bad things I imagine these annoyances are bringing not really so dangerous as I imagine? Perhaps the fly would go away on its own if I simply ignored it and continued the task at hand.
I get frustrated when little things take up more of my time than necessary. Chasing down the fly seems like a simple enough task, especially if I’m in an enclosed place. Surely it won’t take more than a minute or two to swat it or at least get it out the open door. But it always takes longer. The creature eludes me; I smack it with a notebook, and somehow it flies away, unscathed. The fly sucks the time away.
I don’t want these trivial tasks or bothers to consume my days and preoccupy my mind. This means learning to let thoughts come and go as they may without clinging to them, without letting them penetrate the forefront of my thoughts when I want to focus on something else.
Meditation helps with this practice immensely. If I can sit for fifteen or twenty minutes and think a million thoughts without acting on them during a meditation session, I can do it when trying to blog or work or write a song.
This also means trusting myself to remember those “important” thoughts when I do have the time or mental space to do so. If I am working on a particular task, I don’t have to immediately stand up and pay my bills or do the laundry just because a thought that I should do those things floats by. I can remind myself of what I’m working on now and trust that I will accomplish to-dos that need to be done at a later time. I can trust myself to remember and follow through later.
Trust in myself is key. If I don’t trust myself to do things that need to be done, I’ll spend all day chasing flies instead of sitting down and doing work I am truly passionate about. Distractions need not become full-time occupations.
I must learn that I can choose not to act on obsessive thoughts and that I can trust myself to succeed at this life thing. I can let the flies buzz until I’m finished writing/playing/preparing; then, if they are still around, I’ll have plenty of time to shoo them out the door.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)