Shedding My Should's - or - the Albatross and the Lizard

Recently I’ve been intrigued by a friend’s interaction with her purse. Yes, her purse. She has referred to it as an albatross around her neck and has been in the process of cleaning out this “heavy” bag. As a curious companion, I couldn't resist posing these questions to her:

Why wouldn't you eliminate something that is heavy and helps bring on migraines (impairs your health)?

How would it feel to go about your business unencumbered?

Why do you keep schlepping it around?

What do you gain by holding onto this heavy "albatross"?

Since my curiosity often peaks when something inside me is stirring, it was no surprise that today's Abbey of the Arts Lenten reflection prompted me to look in the mirror and ask myself basically the same questions I had just offered my friend.

What do I schlep around that encumbers my journey? What can I relinquish today?

Answer: I want to shed my should’s. They are my “albatross” and feel oh so very heavy. Through journaling and self-reflection, I ended up exploring today’s should which sounds something like: I should take care of myself. Is this true? Absolutely! Taking care of ourselves is a great thing to which I’m wholeheartedly dedicated. So what's the problem? Regarding my personal response to self-care, I’ve discovered an interesting space where I balance precariously between finding true rest and moving into a restless or paralyzing, non-productive state. This seems a direct result of the resistance I feel when I hear the word SHOULD.

My tricky lizard (the part of our brains that thrives on fear) somehow can convince me that doing something "restful", like watching two or three episodes of Brothers & Sisters (instead of reading or sleeping) will leave me refreshed. By staying up late, however, I end up exhausted and with nothing to show for it. On the other hand, I resist a push-push-push mentality and the “should” factor of always being "productive". Nonetheless, I know I’m much happier when I’ve done some writing, cleaned a closet, gone for a walk or intentionally snuggled with Aslan. My sneaky lizard, however, can pull me away from the things I love in the name of self-care and what I should (or should not) be doing. Oh, tricky tricky lizard!

When I play with the statement: I should take care of myself, it feels heavy like an obligation (or an albatross). Should’s are extremely weighty!! Should’s take away the gift and joy of simply doing and being. When I entertain the place of should (e.g. I should be taking care of others; should be working; should be eating cardboard diet food instead of delicious chocolate), I get caught up in fear (lizard brain) which for me ultimately leads to resentment. I begin to lose my presence and joy with others, resist my work, and punish my body for holding me hostage.

I know that shedding the should’s leads to greater joy and balance in life. It’s something I experience on a regular basis. Now, if I can just convince that sneaky lizard to leave me alone perhaps I can enjoy this present moment. Perchance the albatross and lizard should make a play date? Hmmmm.

Today, I want to relinquish my should’s. Care to join me? I’d love to hear what should’s keep you feeling heavy and encumbered. What albatross is hanging around your neck? What is your lizard whispering in your ear?

© port orchard heron; aslan doing what he does best

Riding the Wave of Breath

Before daybreak and slightly bleary-eyed from my night's sleep, I enter my studio. Touching match to wick, the soft glow of candlelight enters the room and morning shadows dance across the walls. Tenderly I curl myself into a comfortable cross-legged position, close my eyes ever so slightly and offer myself to this new day.

Inhale. Exhale. I ride the wave of my breath. As I meditate, there are moments where my curiosity stirs and I wonder from where this tranquility comes. I sit in silence and follow my breath. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. My body settles into a gentle rhythm. With the inhale, I hear the sound of wind through aspens. On the exhale, a storm is brewing in the midwest. My thoughts float by like gentle clouds on a summer day. Grounded. Breathing. Simple. I am tranquil. Again, I wonder how I got to this place until even that thought drifts on by. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four.

Door #1, #2 and #3

“All truth is one rarefied yet earthly room, but our awareness often is outside. We need to open a particular door and go through its conditioning chamber, gradually preparing ourselves to be able to see and respond in the subtle, awesome, caressing light of that spacious room.” -- Tilden Edwards

As anyone who’s followed this blog for awhile knows, I’ve been stalked by crows, danced with dolphins and stepped into more than a few foreign lands. Today, I’m here to write about mysterious doors - doors (& gates) that have been intensifying their pursuit of me over the last week.

Sunday while preparing for the Eucharist at Camp Cross women’s retreat, I glanced in the chair I had randomly chosen and picked up a blank mandala left there. Curious, I turned over the page and read this mandala is called “Gates of Death”. It speaks of the stages of my own journey and offered these words:

“You may feel compelled to turn your back on your accomplishments, to forgo security, or to let go of the way things have been, and step through a gateway to a mysterious unknown. This commences a journey downward, into the depths of yourself.”

Oh my... when I read those words I began to laugh as my upcoming pilgrimage to the Sinai Desert came to mind. I showed them to my sis sitting to my left and we giggled like little girls who’d been let in on a wonderful secret. Just in case we’d forgotten there’s a mysterious power greater than all of us… the message came through loud and clear! I will call that Door #1.

Door #2 became boldly apparent yesterday afternoon during a group phone call with my life coach when I volunteered to assist with an exercise. I was called upon to describe the room in my house with which I’m least satisfied. For some “kooky” reason, I chose the closet in my office. As I described its contents – a mess of other people’s stuff I can’t get rid of – some good things I can’t get to – a little window that lets light in, but I can’t access it because the door’s usually closed – Tonya patiently repeated my words, took some notes and then posed the question, “What area of your life might this room represent?” I get chills even now and the words again infuse all the way through my body. “My writing,” I announced without hesitation. Again, Oh My!!

Tonya’s charge to me? Not to start writing, but to physically clean out that closet and see what happens next. Whew... that's what I call a step of faith. So, I have a date with my husband for this afternoon and we’re going to turn on some nice music, roll up our sleeves, maybe even dance a little as we clean behind Door #2.

You know there had to be at least one more. Door #3 peaked in on me yesterday, but I didn’t realize it until this morning. I’ve been working with a few new SoulCollage® cards I made last weekend and one more card insisted on coming into the mix. It’s one that’s been around for awhile, but I haven’t spent much time with it. So… after reading Tilden Edwards quote (above) during my morning quiet time, my mouth dropped open & the giggly feeling rose up when I realized what’s on that card – a woman sitting in front of a huge closed gate/door… And believe me when I say, she has a lot to talk about!!

For now, I'll close with these snapshots of doors 1, 2 and 3. It’s a good thing I’ve spent the summer becoming physically solvent, since it looks like there’s a lot of adventure and mystery waiting to be let into the light. I hope you’ll stick around and journey with me!!

How about you? Any doors in your life beckoning for attention? Are there rooms in your ‘house’ awaiting a face-lift? Me? I’m off to de-clutter and see what happens next!

a very scary door #2
'the gatekeeper' © lucy

a few new beatitudes...

blessed is the broken self,
for she shall find rest.

blessed is the one who rests,
for she will find self-love.

blessed are the ones who seek God,
for they will be held & upheld.

art & words inspired
during 3/11/10
soul care supervision group

Guilt or Gratitude?

It’s a surreal experience, sitting in an aluminum tube looking out the window from 30,000+ feet to witness only vast expanses of water while knowing this morning I left my Seattle home where it was dark and rainy and by late afternoon, I will be feeling the warmth of the Hawaiian sun. My husband sits beside me listening to an i-pod and reading his Kindle. My daughter and her friend behind us with their manicured nails fiddling on assorted gadgetry to keep them busy. We indeed live a privileged life and at this very moment I am trying to feel gratitude instead of guilt.

My own reading topic of the moment is a book called Trauma Stewardship by Laura Van Dernoot Lipsky, and it is what prompted this post.

“I went shopping last week for a pair of shoes, and I thought to myself, “What kind of person would go shopping for a pair of shoes right now?” Community activist, New Orleans, nine months after Hurricane Katrina

As I read the above quote, I was filled with flashbacks of the last few weeks. As I mentioned in this post, I have spent lots of time working with individuals (myself included) who struggle with “good fortune” and “privilege” particularly in light of the recent devastation in Haiti. A few days ago, I had virtually the same thought: How can I be going to Maui when people are buried under rubble in Haiti? Never mind that the trip was planned months before the recent earthquake. Our thoughts don’t always make sense do they?

Lipsky says it is a common experience of caregivers to feel guilt over the disparity between our lives and the lives of those we serve. I felt a twinge of this same guilt yesterday as my co-facilitator and I finished up our weekly session of Deepening Spirituality through SoulCollage® at the Recovery Café. Our class represents a variety of participants, many who live on the margins of poverty. So when my friend prompted me to tell the participants that I would be absent next week, I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I announced my absence and they quickly replied with “Where are you going??!?!” I hesitated a beat, breathed in and exhaled, “Maui.” “Maui?!? Are you kidding? Lucky you! We hate you. No fair. Teachers aren’t supposed to play hooky!” The good-natured barrage continued until I finally laughed, “Hey, sorry guys, I’m going and I’ll see you when I get back.” They responded playfully and I realized we were having an authentic encounter that brought us closer than ever in our humanity. It turned into a magically sweet moment and my resolve to not downplay my trip, but to send them a postcard and let them know I really was thinking of them.

Lipsky goes onto say when we downplay our own good fortune, we distance ourselves from others by not being genuine, and ultimately begin “to experience our own life with less abundance and joy than we truly feel.”

All of these moments fit into my primary pondering category of self-care leading to good care of others. My husband and I both declared a night or two ago that we are really tired. It’s been a stressful few months and we need to recharge. Yes, we are fortunate and can afford a plane ticket and a week in a nice condo – but in my heart I take along those with whom I work and know that I will be a better caregiver for this respite.

So, I’m curious – do you ever find yourself downplaying your good fortune? What is the impact for you? Do you feel better or worse? Does it bring you closer to others or increase the distance? And what of ‘authentic encounter’? How has it expanded your view of humanity?

Well, this may be the deepest (or only) thought you get out of me for a few days. Who knows? I’m off to recharge and setting aside my guilt for the time being. ☺

Aloha!

rainbow over honolulu © lucy 2.11.10

first glimpse of maui © lucy 2.11.10