Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 26

Enough



When do you know enough is enough? It’s a colossal dilemma for most Westerners. We set ridiculously high standards according to an elusive “they” who rattles around inside our heads. It’s a gigantic setup for failure, because “they” are never satisfied and continually remind us there are additional things to do, further places to visit, and masses of people to feed, clothe and save. Reaching for enough is overwhelming when listening to the unrelenting chatter. I know if I wait until everything is done in order to declare myself gratified, I’m setting myself up for an arduous and dissatisfying journey.



Stepping back I ponder how to choose satisfaction over discontent and abundance over scarcity. What will be enough today? For me, enough arrives at the precise moment I personally and individually declare it so. Enough doesn’t cater to others. Anything becomes enough when I affirm it and believe it, if only for a moment. For example, consuming food isn’t about cleaning my plate and overeating because “they” told me that’s what I should do. Rather, it’s about nourishing my body until I am physically satisfied – no more or less. In yoga class, the teacher tells us the hard part is over once we’ve showed up. I get to choose whether or not I agree. Witnessing the end of the original Rocky movie, it’s hard to determine who officially won, because each fighter had his own standard for winning. When we try to complete or compete with someone else’s conditions of enough, it’s nearly impossible to achieve triumph.



When do I know enough is enough – for me? Designing standards comes from subjective thought just like any other, so why not set ones I can achieve and appreciate? I could stop mid-sentence and declare this piece enough, or I could set a goal of 500 pages for the day and feel dissatisfied every minute because it’s impossible to achieve. Personally, success feels much better than failure and tends to be infinitely more motivating. In the example here, my balance probably lies somewhere between mid-sentence and a tome, but the point is I get to choose my own enough.



Dedicated to Kanesha - I finally declared this post "enough"!



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Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 13

VISUAL PONDER...





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Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 9

Old Brain



There is a voice inside our heads that, believe it or not, usually wants to help. It comes from the places of old and is reptilian in nature. Karen Armstrong simply calls it “old brain.” Martha Beck names it our “lizard.” It also goes by such pseudonyms as the inner critic, devil on your shoulder, or possibly your mother. It is the voice that keeps us in check and goes back to primordial times when all we needed was to be safe, fed and procreate. Since there are no saber-toothed tigers stalking us today, our brain has a tendency to make stuff up that emulates danger.



Since it is an old brain, it is both sophisticated and naive in a very primitive way. My inner critic says things like Who do you think you are? No one will read this drivel! Stop while you’re ahead, fool. It doesn’t sound very helpful, does it? I want to shout back and name call, too, in a display of my own unevolved self. Experience, however, demonstrates that what we resist persists. Fighting, pushing, ignoring and shouting back – all feel like resistance to me. Perhaps a new tactic is in order. Pause. Breathe. Listen a little more closely.



Hey, Lizard, what do you really want? Like a sultry teenager or a petulant child, she pouts and whines and calls me more names. By engaging in the name-calling, the drama escalates and no one wins, so I choose to listen a little more deeply. What she really wants is to simply keep me safe. By convincing me to back off from my goals which entail taking risk, she thinks she’s performing her job successfully. Counterintuitive to my basic instincts to battle her, I’ve noticed responding with laughter, kindness, humility and confidence is much more effective in quieting down this petulant child.



What do you really want? Could there be something helpful beneath all that brain noise? Probing a little deeper, I understand my lizard also wants to be heard – just like me. Hmmm. Perhaps a compassionate bent is the best choice, even though placing my fingers in my ears and screaming, “I can’t hear you” can be quite appealing. Petulance or compassion – which will I choose today?



Today's ponder is inspired by Laura S. Her prompt: How does our inner critic serve us, and how do we best relieve her of her duties?



photo © h3images



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Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 6

Cutting the Cord

I don’t understand the chemistry of a labyrinth – if chemistry is even the word. How magic happens by stepping into a circle of stones. This day I was simply there to do the time. I even set the stopwatch on my wrist. Walking slowly, I was drawn to pulling out the haphazard weeds in the path. Themes of ritual and funeral rose in my mind. Letting go. Refining and expanding.

Stepping into the center, I see the altar of remembrances and symbols of others’ letting go. My pockets holding a hotel key and sunglasses, I have nothing to leave. But there on my wrist are the cloth bracelets I have worn for years. They represent another time of life. The raising of my children now turned adult. It’s time to release and let go.

The lavender band was the easier to remove. Elastic, faded purple, worn around the edges, it’s had many uses – holding my hair, snapping my wrist, adding color to my life. It is a reminder of my sweet girl. Today it’s time to let go. The green band comes next – not so easy to maneuver. I’ve worn it for seven years in honor of my dear son. It’s time to let go and as I stand in the center of the labyrinth I know that to be true. Ritual. Funeral. Release.

No scissors. No knife. No stone sharp enough to cut the cord. Only my sheer will to release and let go. It was painful and at times seemed impossible. Pushing. Pulling. Tugging. Centimeter by centimeter I stretched it across my hand. Tiny blood blisters form on my wrist and no doubt bruises will follow. Millimeter by millimeter. I cease to battle, because it is inevitable the bracelet will stay in the center of this New Mexico labyrinth. How do we know when it’s time to let go? We know.

Pausing in the center, tears formed and while there wasn’t a whoosh of relief or release, there was a calm presence that offered, “This is true. Yes.” Squatting by the sweet altar, holding my breath for a moment or two – leaving purple and green tucked and entwined together, a magpie feather guarding their resting place. “You can’t return the way you came.” Words as clear as the church bells in the distance. Another magpie leads my way as I step across the path. A hop here. A pause there. I can’t go back the way I came.

photo with permission © http://www.carryitforward.com/

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90 Seconds to Release

“Despite our fear of certain feelings, it is feeling each of them all the way through that lands us in the vibrant ache that underrides our being alive. To reach this vibrant place is often healing.” -- Mark Nepo

Life has been crazy full lately with all sorts of brilliant and shiny adventures. It’s all good, as they say. My body, however, seemed to indicate otherwise. Even amidst healthy eating, plenty of sleep and regular exercise, last week my body declared a moratorium on health. I came down with an icky cold “out of nowhere.” So, I slowed down (sort of), paid attention (with soft focus) and listened (perhaps with one ear.) Actually, I kept going – only doing the “essential” things, of course – until my body said, “Excuse me. I’d like your FULL awareness NOW.”

So, Wednesday, I woke up and I cried. Buckets. I finally let go and quit trying to analyze things and figure them out. I pushed my favorite “should” to the background – (“You should know better.”) – and just let myself be. I slowed down and got quiet. I lit a candle, played the Cistercian monks on iTunes, raged in my journal for awhile, sobbed into my pillow, wailed a little more, then went to my scheduled spiritual direction appointment where I sat with a wise listener who let me cry some more. (I hope you’re not distracted by what might have brought me to this state, because that’s not really the point… but I do appreciate your concern.)

If you’re asking what is the point, well, I just needed to let my emotions be. While I have a general idea where some of the angst arises (e.g. my mother died on Mother’s Day seven years ago and I tend to mentally forget this), the point was my body was giving me all sorts of signals that I needed a little grieving time. Again? Yes. Still? Absolutely.

We are such amazing creations and my new favorite mantra is “The body doesn’t lie.” Who would have thought that buckets of tears, some lament music, a gentle hot yoga session and ultimately oral surgery would provide the prescription to returning to my normal-feeling self? Counterintuitive, huh? Nonetheless, my blockage – both nasal and otherwise – seem to be on the pathway to clearness after following just that plan.

Brain scientist, stroke survivor and author, Jill Bolte Taylor offers that it takes only 90 seconds for the chemical release and physiological response of an emotion to be triggered, surge through our body and be completely flushed out of our bloodstream. We have a choice as to whether we mentally hold onto the pain and allow it to further poison our system, or allow ourselves the cleansing benefit of fully experiencing the surge when it arises. Wednesday I allowed my grief to expand and flow through me. It’s definitely harder than it sounds, but one of the reasons I’m recording this memory is perhaps next time, I’ll mentally get to this knowledge sooner and my body won’t have to pull out all the stops to slow me down when an uncomfortable emotion arises again. I’ve come to learn there’s nothing linear about life. We don’t get to grieve or forgive or cry, be angry or laugh just once and then be done. Life is a cyclical process that turns back on itself again and again as onward we go!

Is there an intense feeling you’ve been avoiding? Will you allow yourself 90 seconds of pure emotion today? Go ahead, throw rocks into the ocean. Crank up the blues music. Dance with abandon until your toes tingle with joy. Think about it.