Posts Categorized: Radical Kindness

When am I a tap-dancing clown?

I saw the new year in again this year with Byron Katie and friends at an annual event called the Cleanse. I think of it as a thought cleanse, and I’ve been “cleaning” thoughts ever since. I have so many opportunities, I notice, as I watch my knickers get all twisted and do a little research to find what I’m believing, always a lie.

One of the biggest fibs that continues to cause stress in my world is that I need everyone’s approval. Not just some people. Everyone. And if I don’t get it….let’s just say I’m not listening to my inner voice when I believe I should. I try harder to entertain, to make nice, and I lose my most precious inner self in the process.

Katie used an image that struck me when she asked when we turn into tap-dancing clowns for approval. I could easily see all the times in my life that I abandon myself and become a caricature of myself so that “they” will approve.

Nowadays it’s more subtle than it was when I was younger, but it’s still there. It’s a subtle kind of ruthlessness. I’m so curious to notice when the tap dancer shows up and find out what else is more true than my act. I have a hunch it will be much kinder to myself than my tap-dancing routine.

New Oasis Video Magic

Last summer at the Martha Beck convention, I pulled up my big girl panties and asked a few folks I had coached if they’d say a few words about their experience for a video outfit that was there.

httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70NjOlt7ImM

It wasn’t until a month ago that I actually looked at the footage, and I asked my son Ben to do his Video Meister magic to put it together for my website. He did an amazing job, given that a loud waterfall made the first cut inaudible.

I’m humbled and grateful to everyone involved. I think the results are pretty amazing, and that’s not just the mother inside talking… see what you think.

Giving Up Ruthlessness for the New Decade

It’s taken me a while to write my first entry for the new decade because I wanted to come to a clear intention that was deeply true from my core. So instead of giving myself of lists of admirable goals, I looked for something truer to emerge.

Here it is. 2010 is the year I’m giving up on ruthlessness with myself. I’ve looked at the belief that I need to change, and wherever I met it, there was the old demon of self-judgement…and ruthlessness, just over its shoulder.

I’m deeply curious about what Love has in mind for me this year. When I see that, I see a kinder world. A deep curiosity about what would change if I lived this resolution. I like that. What would that look like for you?

Compare this to your first list and revise.

From Dark to Light & Back Again

This season never fails to bring with it a little confusion for me. The source this year is no longer my Holiday Shopping List or the cacophony of ads and events vying for my attention. It’s just that the dark and cold naturally draws me to quietness, and yet Christmas lights are starting to beckon. When I think back, I realize my own version of seasonal mania in years past came got worse when I denied my real need for a Long Winter’s Nap.

So I’m trying out an experiment this year. I’m follow my inclination for sleep and dreaming. I’m allowing myself more time for dream journals and meditation in the early mornings, and I’m planning small field trips to the shops and lights of the holidays.

My strategy is this: by routinely allowing time to go within, I’ll be able to notice the subtle beliefs that would keep me off-center during a holiday when I’d like to experience more peace. I’m anchoring myself in the mystery of darkness so that I’ll replace stresses of holidays past with joy and excitement of a third-grader on a field trip. A non-sugar-driven, non-hyper holiday field trip. Then I can come home to savor some quiet, some warmth, and visions of sugar plums.

I’ll keep checking in. Let me know what you’re dreaming and how you’re keeping seasonal perspective.

Is it true?

This is the 24 carat question. It’s truly astounding to me how often I don’t stop to ask it, even after more than five years of inquiry where this is the first question (The Work of Byron Katie).  The more mindful of my choices I become, the more assumptions I notice I have about the world.  This is the source of all my personal restriction.

Sometimes it’s hard to catch the belief (see my blog on Thought Catching).  Often this comes after I notice a habitual pattern of acting that keeps me stuck.  I notice I frequently don’t allow enough time to get places, to be restfully present when I arrive. I notice the stress that comes into my life. 

Oh my gosh.  I’ve been believing two things my whole life: that I have to rush.  That I don’t have enough time. Is it true? that I don’t have enough time?  That I have to rush? Be honest with yourself.  No. But by the way I act you’d never know it.

There are other profound and powerful questions in this process.  But sometimes asking just this one takes me right out of a old, robotic way of living and brings me to the present moment, where I can create something different.

Try it out for yourself.  Ask this one question and notice what other wisdom emerges.

As for me, I’m going to take my time packing for my morning exercise routine right now, testing out whether it’s indeed true that I needed to rush.

Indian Summer, Wabi Sabi, Seasonal Questions

We call it Indian Summer. The light at this time of year is slanted.  Just a few days ago light and dark were in perfect balance. It’s a time between worlds, a perfect time to catch up with yourself.

The Japanese have a word to describe the deep yearning that autumn brings. Wabi sabi. It’s a way of seeing and a recognition that all things are temporary.  This experience of impermanence is the key to the  subtle beauty of the season. As we open to the beauty of the fall, we become aware of the constant flux of the natural world. We are called to deep appreciation of each moment, before it fades and becomes the next. This moment.  The one right here. Now.

After full-tilt boogying through life, there’s a yearning to go within, to get a little quieter. To bring home the harvest of the growing season.  To balance inner and outer worlds. To appreciate the subtle fluctuations of life. We open to the sweet impermanence of the season, the passing beauty of a leaf, a baby’s face, the light hitting the window just so.

When we move into a darker and quieter time, we  find out what’s in balance and what’s not. We  discover the little resistances and the limited thinking that would be keeping us from being our most peaceful and free versions of ourselves. This is a perfect time to ask ourselves some questions that call us into deeper living. Read More>>

Living the Questions

Many years ago I came across these words by Rainier Maria Rilke, in his Letter to a Young Poet:

“Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

I’ve been compiling a list of questions that I love to ask myself and others ever since. When I’m feeling confusion or stress, it’s usually because I haven’t taken the time to ask myself some good questions.  I notice this is true for my clients, too.  With that in mind, I’m sharing some of my favorite questions in the next few blog entries.

Here’s the one that shows up today: Who am I now? I’ll be carrying it in my pocket today to find out, as the day progresses, as I live with it.  Here’s what I notice this moment.  I’m finding my way back to my center after the last month’s whirlwind of activities. I’m noticing I’ve been missing me when I’m responding to everyone else.   Read More>>

How a Long Marriage is Like the Grand Canyon

As of this week, I’ve been married forty years to the same person.  Okay. Not the same person.  He’s changed.  I’ve changed.  And it’s not the same marriage.  It’s changed and we’ve changed. In many ways, it’s been more like a series of two or three marriages,.

When new friends ask what wisdom we have to share. I ‘m struck dumb. Those of you who know me understand what an unusual occurrence this is.   Looking back there’s the same feeling I had when I first set my eyes on the Grand Canyon. It’s just too big to grasp.

Generalities fly through the air. Kindness, rooted commitment.  Then specific words come to mind:  communication (learning what that means and how to do it better), acceptance, tolerance.  But mostly there’s a parade of images, single frames that become a whole, like flipping a book of line drawings that create animation. Viewing my own mental snapshots of these two young strangers and watching how shared joy and grief and pain has changed them together and separately simply boggles my mind. Read More>>

Octogenarian Observations

This week I’m leading a service to celebrate the life of a dear friend and an inspiration, Connie Foulke.  An ardent teacher, parent, and community leader, Connie was one of my reference points for how to live a good life for over thirty years.  A while ago she organized a group of “young friends” (most of us were only in our late 50’s, after all) for lunch and tea.  Our honored leader even gave us a name:  the Pleiades, and she requested we each choose a the name of one of the stars of the constellation, research the mythology behind it and select one that fit. After all, Google was a wonderful invention that would help us out.  Connie was that kind of thoughtful. That kind of thorough. She was what used to be called “a class act.”

When I turned sixty  I flew back to Kansas City for a gathering of high school friends who were also celebrating that passage.  I asked Connie to give some advice to those of us twenty years behind.  She was rather frail at that point, and I expected her to dictate  a couple of lines over the phone.  Not Connie. What I got was a call, four or five days later, that I should come and pick something up. When I opened the bag Connie had left for me, there was  a double-sided page of thoughts in an ornate old English font, printed on fine parchment-style paper.  The title was “octogenarian observations.”

I’ve been inspired for a year by her well-honed life, and her careful advice. I thought about excerpting this and sharing it in pieces because there’s so much wisdom that it’s hard to digest in one sitting.  Then I decided to post it as it is, in its entirety.  It’s such a testimony to a brilliant mind, a wise heart, and a generous heart.  Not to mention a model of conscious aging that I continue to find helpful. Here it is:

Octogenarian Observations

Laugh a lot, even when it hurts.  You’ll feel lighter for it.

Forget the feeling that you’ve forgotten something.  If it’s really important, it will eventually sneak back.  If not, so what?

Listen to classical music.  It will soothe your soul and envelop you in peace.

Consume quantities of chocolate!  There is never too much.

Dump people, possessions and practices you don’t want or need any more.

People:  “Remove from your life those who offer you depression, despair and disrespect.” (Nikki Giovanni)

Practices: give up compulsions.  For example, if you don’t enjoy sending Christmas cards, quit.  I did two years ago.

Love and enjoy your children and grandchildren on your own terms.

Be grateful!

Drink plenty of water.  It is good for your innards and keeps you active with frequent journeys to the bathroom.

Take the phone of the hook if you want to nap or read undisturbed.

Wear whatever suits your fancy, new or old.  But comfortable.

Use lovely perfume and enjoy your own scent.

Take your favorite jewelry out of the box and wear it for your own enjoyment.  (You didn’t acquire it to keep it in the box.)

Nap frequently and enjoy your dreams!

Damn the clock.  Keep your own time.  Get out of bed when you feel like it and stay up as late as you wish.  (But to be on time for appointments and engagements that involve others.)

Spend time on crossword puzzles and Sudoku to challenge your brain and enjoy the success of solution.

Eat quantities of fruits and vegetables, especially local produce.

Travel–actually, via TV or film, or in remembrance of things past.

Sometimes hang out with young people; their energy and enthusiasm may be contagious.  It is surely uplifting.

It’s OK to need a little help.  Use a cane or someone dependable to lean on.

Peruse old photo albums and vicariously enjoy fond memories.

Look at the clouds, the sunrises and sunsets, and MARVEL over creation.

Occasionally retreat into your shell and look at the iridescent nacre inside, like highlights in your life.

Believe in what’s good.

Vote for Obama; he’s the hope for the future of our beloved country.

Finally, as Micah said, Do justly, Love mercy, walk humbly with thy God.

Anchoring

On my bedside table there’s a brass anchor and a candle.  It serves as a reminder of my need for stabilizing as I question and learn and grow.  A reminder of those things that hold me to the earth and bring me back to myself and the present moment when my mind begins to wander, as it has a habit of doing.  Here’s a quick list:  my dog, a warm shower and clean clothes, sitting quietly in the morning, deep and sustaining breaths, holding hands with my husband, and a dear friend’s face.  The more I look for examples, the more I find.  And it begins to look a whole lot like a list of gratitude.

What’s on your list?  What brings your mind back to what’s important?  Find out. And let the list grow.