Anchored In Love

 

On Friday, I had one of those moments that will forever stay imprinted on my brain. I had just driven 3 hours to pick up my daughter from a two-week Appalachian Trail hiking trip. She had never done something like this and no cell phones were allowed (yay!) so I had no idea how the trip went. She's also a teenager, which means I have low expectations for the kind of hellos and goodbyes we might receive. I parked the car at the high school pick up spot and started to walk across the parking lot searching for which group she might be clumped together with, when suddenly I see her running toward me across the field of grass with her arms open and a huge smile on her face. I got the biggest hug I think I ever received from her. She is NOT a touchy feely person. I'm not sure there is a better feeling than the one I experienced in that moment. Since then, every time I revisit the moment, a huge smile beams across my face.

As we drove home, once we exhausted what there was to know about the trip and what she had missed at home (not much), I found myself noticing the surprise I felt at being loved and wondering why being loved continues to surprise me. This is not new. I seem to forget or not fully believe that I am loved. For me, it takes a lot of self-work to trust it. Even here, with my own daughter, I saw just how vulnerable my faith in being lovable is. I know that may sound sad. But after decades of inner looking, I know why it's there and so it doesn't feel so sad because I know it's not "true," just something that needs reinforcement. It also doesn't sadden me because I know that this is not only my experience, but many others also experience this slippery relationship to feeling anchored in love. I do the best I can to not let it get in the way of my close relationships because it is such a drag to love someone and have them not trust in it.

So what helps me to trust in love? It takes the steady presence of someone. People who repeatedly come close in one moment and go away in another, for no obvious reason, are not great matches for me. That's what I need from "the other," but then there is what I need from myself which is my own love. It's been a slow process, this learning how to love myself, but I do now. Of course I have my moments where my inner critic gets too loud, but for the most part, I look in the mirror and I like who I see. How could I possibly trust in the love of another if I didn't have my own love? How could I love another and let them be free if I didn't have my own love?

I used to think that learning to love myself was the only key needed. I now understand that we need two. We need our own deep affection and we need the steadiness of someone else, especially if it felt unknowable as a child (for whatever reason that may be). In my 20's, I remember one of my first therapists saying I needed to learn to love myself. I knew she was right and I found it frustrating because I didn't understand how to do that. It didn't come overnight and I now understand that it's a lifelong process of watering those seeds.

My invitation for this week is to practice anchoring in love. What does that mean? Here are some practices that help me:

• I thank my body regularly for all it does for me.
• I let myself pause and rest before I get to the place of "too much."
• I take a moment to honor the work and effort I put into something so that I don't roll onto the next thing without saying, "thanks."
• I look into the mirror at my face every night and see the beauty of a vulnerable human being and I smile at her. I see the young girl in myself and my heart softens toward her.
• I remind myself to stay connected to those I love. It takes conscious doing and opening.
• When I doubt love, I stop and ask, "is it true?" I wait for my higher self to respond. She tends to see more clearly.
• I remember that I am part of a giant web of interconnected life. I am more than this body. This person who I identify as "me" is not separate from anything or anyone and, with that understanding, I love more easily because there is not much to be afraid of if I am part of it all.
• I remember that to love is a choice and there is nothing to lose when it is given freely. At the same time, I don't bother trying to love someone who gives and retracts their love often. I can still show love and care without incurring the pain of not knowing what I will get or in the hope that "this time they will stay."  

You may have more ways of anchoring in love and I welcome you to share them with me. If you struggle with it, reach out, and we can see what would help to make the love you have stick.

🌻
Jean

A Mindful Life In Micro-Moments

 

Do you sometimes feel like you're not doing a great job living a mindful life? What does living a mindful life look like? What does it really look like? Stock images of people meditating can have it appear oh so simple and graceful. The image of someone sitting perfectly upright, aligned, appearing effortless, calm, at ease, and of course, in a beautiful setting, is not what I, generally, know of it. I have meditated in some very beautiful places, but even if I got that part of the picture right, I don't think I imbue what I see in these model meditators or a serene Buddha statue. My hair is a little off, my clothes a bit sloppy, my body a little more full than the people in the pictures, and if I'm outside (like most of these photos), I'm trying hard not to swat at the flies or mosquitos. A mindful life is not so perfect. Thank goodness. This means we can all live it.

For this reason, today I want to encourage the micro-moments of practice that add up to make a truly mindful life. In my mind, a mindful life (or call it a life of grace) involves presence (being in the moment), gratefulness (appreciating what's here), compassion (being able to be with suffering), joy (feeling connected), letting go (remembering impermanence), and the awareness that we are all connected to everyone and everything that is, was, and will be. Sounds like a tall order, but it's really not because we practice in small ways everyday and those micro-moments combined are what make a life a mindful one. We don't have to become something we are not. No huge transformations required. Here are some ideas of what it looks like:

• Meditate daily. This is really not a be a big deal if we don't make it one. It's not mystical or magical. We don't need to set up a special room or get ourselves ready to do it. Keep it simple. Set a timer or show up to a group and practice every day. If all you have is 5 minutes, great. Just do it and make it a habit like brushing your teeth. Those 5, 10, 20 minutes add up and contribute to how present you are in the rest of what you do.
• Bring your attention to your senses in small moments throughout the day. Feel the touch of the silverware as you empty the dishwasher. Hear the sounds of the gravel under your foot. Feel the water on your hands. Stop and smell a flower or the scent of wet trees after a rain. Feel yourself breathing at a stop light, as you listen to your friend, as you wait on line. Practice being present in micro-moments and you will find there is more time, space, and more to enjoy. 
• When you wash your face at night or take a shower, as you touch the different parts of your body, say thank you. Thank you to these arms, these legs, this skin, this back, these eyes for all they do. Without this body, we can't experience this life. No one else will thank your body for all it does, for putting up with all the demands and criticisms we have of it. It does everything it can to heal and keep us going. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." 
• Make note of what was good in the day, of what you created in the day, of what you received in the day. You can change the wording around like I just did to keep it fresh, but no matter what way you phrase it, it gets to the point of seeing goodness and appreciating. Make a note of the feeling behind each thing you name because that's what gratefulness feels like. It's not the thought, but the feeling that matters. And note just how much goes into what you named -- all of the people, resources, elements, conditions that came together for any of it to be. This reminds us of our interconnection. When we remember we are connected we tend to be kinder, more generous, more forgiving. It also reminds us just how incredible this all is. 
• Having a hard moment? Something doesn't go the way you had hoped or expected? Someone says something that rattles you? Feeling the stress of too much of something or too little of something? Witness someone else or a group having a hard time? Bring in compassion. It's that simple. Don't push the pain or upset away; don't even try to fix anything just yet. Recognize suffering with a tender heart and be kind. Start simply. Feel the pain and form a phrase of loving-kindness. "May I have peace of mind. May I have relief. Or may he/she/they be gentle with themselves. May they feel loved." Whatever phrase brings relief, offer it up. Hard moments don't need to be met with more hardness. 
• Feel yourself trying to control a situation? These are good moments to remember that all things change. Let it go. Easier said than done, but start with simple things. Someone cuts you off, let it go. Forgot to do something, let it go. Your appointment gets canceled, let it go. Newly washed car gets pooped on, let it go. Start small and practice releasing the things that, in the big picture, don't matter so much (at the end of your life you won't care). When we let ourselves find more flexibility with the small stuff, when the larger things happen, we have more resiliency, more faith, more understanding that this, too, will change.

We can't fail at mindfulness.It would be kinder to think less of seeing some grand change, but instead, allow ourselves to fill our days with micro-moments of presence, gratefulness, compassion, connection, and letting go and this is a "perfect" picture.

Wishing you a beautiful week.

Finding The Past In The Present

 

This writing is adapted from the talk given on Sunday, July 10, 2022. If you prefer to listen, you can find the recording here.

In mindfulness meditation, we talk about staying in the present moment, but what we know is that our minds, more often than not, bring us to the past, the future, or somewhere in our imagination. The focus of this talk is on the past.

A few weeks ago, my son and I took an excursion back to my hometown on the North Shore of Long Island. It is a place that is embedded in my memory as being one of the most beautiful places to live. As we made the tedious drive there from NJ, I wondered whether it would be as magical as my 15 year old mind, the age when my family moved from there, remembered it to be. As we pulled off the LI Expressway and found our way to the village of Laurel Hollow, it was indeed as idyllic as I had remembered.

I pulled down the quiet lane where we lived and it was hard not to be overwhelmed with the memories of the landscape I loved and wished we had never left. We drove the two miles from our old house to the town beach, a ride we would take on our bikes as kids. My son, seeing that the ride was a slight decline, asked if we had to peddle back uphill the whole way on the return. We did. It always felt exhausting and endless. Then he said something that surprised me, he said, "no wonder you love Maine, Mom." I never put it together. Mount Desert Island in Maine, the summer place I have been going to for the past 10 years, has many of the qualities like this area of Long Island without the mountains. But Maine, unlike Long Island, isn't drenched in childhood memories. It is a place of newer memories. A place where I found myself again. A place that is mine, unadulterated by the past. 

When we returned, I had to let this excursion digest for two weeks. Going "home," even to a place without the people there, isn't always easy. I felt how much of my current being is still wrapped up in the past and being there made it all so clear. The things I struggle with as an adult are woven into this place. Threads of belonging, money, beauty, privilege, longing, loneliness, and the goals, desires, struggles of my parents all woven into a thick tapestry that has influenced everything I have become.

This experience of returning threw me into a whirlpool of emotions that I thought I was done with. Memories, and the feelings they evoke, don’t work that way. We don’t get to choose to be done with them. We get to respond to them differently as we mature even if, at first, they dredge up those old responses. When we got back, I had to let them raise turmoil running in circles amok inside until they were ready to quiet down again. The whole experience was clarifying. I got to hear myself say, “well off course you struggle with these issues still!” I was able to be on my side in recognizing that there are reasons behind the places I continue to get stuck. At some moment in the week, in speaking with a family member about it, he said something and it was as if a bell of mindfulness went off reminding me of who I am now and what my values are now and suddenly the conflict I had with the past that had gotten dredged up quieted. 

Memories are charged. They have a volt of electricity behind them that inevitably causes a reaction. Some memories we simply want to close the door on. They are usually ones that have shame circling around them. As Brené Brown explains so well, shame likes secrecy. It gets stronger the more we stuff it down. Mindfulness teaches us that we don’t have to do that. We can make room for the difficult past experience and not judge it and not add onto it, but breathe with it and offer compassion for the hard feelings that come forth. We can recognize that other people also have this experience and we can offer compassion for this collective experience of being human. This moves it away from being a personal attack to a basic experience of living that we all share. The specifics may look different, but we all suffer; we all experience joy; we all want to be happy and loved and safe.

In my story, I chose to go to the past, well aware that I would be facing many feelings. I was surprised at how powerful they were, but going there was intentional. When we meditate and the past comes up -- when we start rehashing a conversation, when we replay a scene, it’s often unintentional. Or in our daily life, when this happens, we start ruminating and we stop being present. On the other hand, when we reflect, we are choosing to go over something with awareness. This is what makes reflection different than unconsciously ruminating. Reflection is not something that takes over, but something we decide to pay attention to with care in order to gain insight. Looking into our past has value when we look with curiosity and with kindness, seeing beyond what happened, to what we learned, possibly to find forgiveness, or to see more clearly. 

My son and I had a great day. I showed James a bit of where he came from. In going back with him, my guess is that he understands me a bit more. This is the gift of being able to go to the past – to understand more now. The past makes up who we are, but the present is who we choose to be. 

Certain seasons, holidays, places, objects, smells can cause memories to arise and when we stop and are still in meditation, the past is sure to resurface. What we do is practice observing it without getting caught in the web. In the present moment, observing the past. It is a very powerful ability because we look from the person we are now.

The next time you are in meditation, or at any moment in the day, notice when you find yourself going over something that is behind you and lean in. Step out of the thought and get curious about the feeling that comes with it, the reaction you have to it, what you are adding onto it. Then, let the judgment go, let the reactivity go and breathe with what’s here now as you behold it’s aliveness in you.

🌻
Jean

What Does It Mean To Be Productive?

 

Over the past couple of weeks the A Mindful Life community has been exploring two themes, productivity and procrastination -- cousins of sorts, and what an interesting exploration it has been. We've held questions like what does it mean to be productive? What does it feel like? What qualifies any action as being a "productive" one? And what's underneath productivity's opposite (or maybe its nemesis?), procrastination, and avoiding what's here? It's been a worthwhile investigation as it debunks many ideas we have on these subjects which, left unexplored, awaken our self-critic. One thing they both need is our kindness and care. 

One of the very revealing comments that came out of the exploration on productivity is that people feel productive when their body is exhausted or when they feel spent. Do we need to get to that point in order to feel we have been productive? When I asked the bigger question -- what truly makes an action/activity a productive one, very different answers came. Rather than checking things off a list or feeling "in control," these answers universally tapped into what really matters to us, to what we value. They were less concerned with what we can cross off, how much we accomplished, or what credit we received. It was quite beautiful to hear what people shared. It felt kinder, wiser, more loving.

At the end of our life, we won't be asking, "did I check everything off my to do list everyday, or did I achieve some position, or make enough money, or travel to all the right places?" I doubt it will matter so much.  When we notice ourselves judging our productivity in a day, a week, or year, it could be a good moment to change our way of evaluating to a more sophisticated one that asks, "in what ways did I cultivate what I believe matters most?" For example, if what matters most is presence, kindness, connection, generosity, healing, ask yourself what you did that was motivated from those places and see what you name. They are not often the big displays, but the smaller moves, gestures, words that accumulate to make a day, a week, a month, a year, a lifetime a "productive" one.

My invitation this week is to keep track. If we don't acknowledge what we have done that feels connected to our values, our life purpose, we will keep rolling through until the end, at which point we won't be sure if we lived how we aspired to. First, make a list of what values matter most to you in living. Now honor all of the acts at the end of a day, or at the end of a week, that cultivated what matters most to you. If you remove the judgement, you will see that there are many. See how much you have given and received from small moments where you complimented someone, drove a child somewhere, took care of your body, were present in a conversation, slowed down to take in a flower or a sunset, gave a project your genuine effort, helped a coworker, made a nourishing meal, planted a seed. 

Next week, I wIll share on procrastination, but until then, enjoy just how "productive" you are when you are living by what you value everyday. You are enough.

🌻
Jean