Throwing It In

Near the end of July, on what was to be my second of only two outdoor getaways for the summer (and not vacations mind you, short weekend with lots of travel just to get some woods and water), I was lazily swinging in my hammock, looking out at Lake Huron through my bug net, enjoying a book on trees, when I heard what I thought was the unthinkable.

     "Are you committed to staying, even if we throw it in?"

I had heard mumbling and rumbling, somethings about flies, the loud smack of hand against bare skin, possibly even some swears coming from the picnic table beyond the trees. But this? Throwing it in? What was this heresy? Sighing, I realized I was going to have to leave my comfortable cocoon of a hammock and join this conversation. Let's just say that by the time my feet hit the ground, my body no longer in the protective wrap of the hammock, I was feeling their pain. I planted a smile on my face, walked over to the picnic table, ignoring the biting flies. "Are you serious"? "We're serious".

My backpacking friends are a fairly hardy bunch. We travel with what we need on our backs, to locations without "facilities", and can go days without showering. (Full disclosure, we love Michigan because while this sounds badass, in three seasons we can usually find a decent water source to cool off and get a little less trail grubby). Unfortunately, most of us are in a season that between work and family commitments, time on the trail is limited. This was to be our only weekend of the summer. At our favorite spot. With private beach access on Lake Huron. And we're talking about throwing it in? After about five minutes of conversation, which felt like an hour in fly bit time, I capitulated. If they were going, I would go too.

What ensued was the fastest camp tear down I have yet to witness. Three women, with tents pitched, clothes drying and camp luxuries set up, were packed and on the trail in under half an hour. Mind you, this was 90+ degrees and very humid in the middle of the afternoon.

I proceeded to berate myself the two miles back to the car. There is just something about quitting that feels wrong. Adversity makes you grow. Gratitude helps you find a message from the Universe in everything. So giving up? We're taught perseverance as magical character trait that eventually brings a Disney like ending. I didn't even feel better when the sky opened into a downpour just as we reached the car. Perfect timing, right? Rain is part of the backpacking experience. If I packed it in every time it rained....well, let's just say trail time would be virtually non-existent. So no, even the rain didn't change my perspective.

That night, after a good shower, I was left with only my fly bites and thoughts for company. Truthfully? it felt good to be in clean. To rest comfortably in my bed. But the nagging narrative of the wrongness of quitting was relentless. What finally broke through for me was the realization that the guilt was unproductive. There are times, when choices are unproductive or hurtful, that some guilt serves a purpose toward growth. But this guilt was wrapped up in an ideal that I had imposed. No one was hurt by me "quitting" the trip. Not even me.

The growth comes in evaluating the guilt. And finding opportunities to grow. Persevering an unproductive path will not lead to growth or happiness. My life is more authentic, my choices more intentional, as I engage in actively evaluating relationships, career opportunities and moves, and the intention through which I make choices daily. Perseverance may be virtuous and serve to strengthen both resolve and success, but only if the path one is on is the right one.

When have you found "throwing it in" to be the right choice? And have you persevered, just for the sake of persevering, when you knew the quest was more about the negative narrative rather than the right pursuit?

Embracing the Dark

The day after Christmas can often feel like the day after the wedding. All of the time and energy that went into creating a celebration is over quickly.  And the clean up! (the too full tummy, the overindulgence of whatever poison you picked). This year, I wanted to be mindful of the season, to embrace the lessons that are coming with my word of intent for 2019, "engage". I came across blogs, lessons and meditations on advent through the contemplative practice community that inspired me to embrace Advent in the same way Lent is observed. Intentionally, with presence, instead of forward focused on the celebration that is to come.

Last full moon of the decade 12:12 on 12/12/19

The Season of Dark, leading to Winter Solstice as the day with the least amount of light of the year, can be a difficult one. Pressure and expectation of holidays, relationships that may bring unrest in anticipation of engagement or lack thereof, as well as the physical reality of living and moving a world with less light. The contemplative practice was a reminder that this too is a season to be celebrated, embrace, to learn. Engage. Be OK with the dark.

Truly, what that meant for me is learning to be OK with me. With my dark. To engage in the emotions, anticipation, dread, longing, not just for the celebratory season to come, but for life in general. My yoga practice is helping me breathe through the process. Feel the joy when it comes. Let the sadness and disappointment be acknowledged, and then let go. The importance for me was to be engaged enough to recognized the complexity of what I feel, long for and work toward. Every day I CHOOSE JOY. But there are days that the joy is not a feeling of happy, but a true choice of how I will embrace my present and engage to my utmost.

Like the couple who expends the energy and resources to plan a wedding, but has done no work to ensure a successful marriage, the day after becomes a disappointment. Reality sets in. Every day is not a celebration. On this day after Christmas, I sit engaged in this moment. I enjoyed the season, but practicing moderation means I don't feel physically or emotionally bloated. The celebrations were real and necessary and life affirming. As were the moments of dark.

And now, I celebrate the twelve days of Christmas, in anticipation of Epiphany. My tree and decorations will remain up through January 6th. I'm embracing my love of things Nordic by practicing hygge. I'm learning to find joy in a less hurried, scheduled existence and embrace the parts of me so intentionally avoided when not engaged. Love and peace through the last week of 2019. Let's engage in every moment we have of this year, before looking ahead to 2020.

It Isn't January, and That's OK

The other day a friend posted a devotional on Facebook. No caption, no message, just the picture of the daily devotional. Intrigued, I needed more information. Was this a new devotional? In August. Yes, was the answer (from my very verbose friend). Huh. A daily devotional, begun in August. But, but....don't you start those in January?

I am a rule follower. And somehow, starting a daily devotional in August seemed like breaking the rules. Truly, these are the issues I deal with. Is that a rule? If so, who made that rule? These thoughts were turning around in my head; considering, contemplating. What was supposed to be in my head was a School Finance assignment, but I digress. For several years I have enjoyed a daily devotional, some years more than others. The past two I have not found the right fit by the start of the new year. This year I was gifted Maria Shriver's I've Been Thinking early enough in January that it still felt like the start of the year. But it isn't a daily devotional, or one that will last the year if read regularly. So when I finished, I was finished. Already looking for next year. Determined to find the perfect fit that will last me through the year.  And then, this craziness! This start a daily devotion when the year is more than half way over FREEDOM. Yes, that is what this is. Freedom.

Engage is my word of intent for 2019 for many reasons. This silliness around "rules" for when to begin a daily devotional is a fitting example of the boundaries I have created to order my life that, in fact, keep me disengaged. So I will tell you what I did. Inspired by the reckless example of my friend, I bought a daily devotional. In August. One that is set up to be read daily. As in, each entry is labeled with the correct date to be read. And begins with January 1st. I opened the meditation, past the middle of the book, to the August 7th entry. And I read it. My world didn't shatter. Disorder did not ensue. I engaged in contemplation, reflection and scripture. On August 7th as Day 1.

Is it encouraging that it isn't the "BIG" things in life that trip me up? Or is it a diversion, believing that they don't. For now, I'm going to be grateful that my heart, soul and spirit are open to the simple things. Because I have so very  many of them to work through. Every day is an opportunity to Engage. To become your true self unveiled. You don't have to wait for a new year reset.

How are you engaging in life this summer? What challenges are working through as a result of the boundaries that you have created for yourself?

Engaging in Rebellion

Start the Day with a Smile

The early bird catches the sunrise - Mackinac Island

While listening to the audio version of the book Leading With Soul, a particular moment caught my attention in a way that made me eventually have to backtrack and re-listen, as my thoughts overshadowed the narrative. The story is a leadership allegory, with the traditional "sage" and "seeker" roles, moving through leadership choices and reflection. At one point, when bringing Spirit into leadership, the "Seeker" is asked about night time prayers. His response is that the prayer he remembers is the traditional 18th Century bedtime prayer:

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

If I should die before I 'wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

The discussion that ensued centered around the fear that accompanies this prayer, when as a young child every night ends with a prayer that emphasizes possible death! As an educator I often contemplate the things we do and say to and in front of children without considering the lasting effects. This prayer to me is the perfect example.

Where my thoughts went while listening to this was a place of gratitude, for a wholly different experience, thanks to my mother and her bedtime rituals with me. There was always reading, to which I attribute my early and continued love of reading. Then prayers, remembering family and friends and that for which we were thankful. The very last part of the bedtime ritual was a lullaby. Specifically Brahms lullaby. Her version veered from the original a bit, but this is what I remember hearing nightly:

Lullaby, and Goodnight,

Go to bed now, and sleep tight.

Close your eyes and start to yawn,

Pleasant dreams until the dawn.

When the sun lights the sky

you will wake feeling spry.

Start the day with a smile,

Life is really worth while.

Now, those who know me, not even that well, will attest that I am a morning person! I truly "start the day with a smile" from the moment I awake. I've been told it's annoying (by former roommates and my sister), but I believe in the spoken word. How could I not arise at sunlight, happy and ready to live life, when from the time I was born this is the message my mother gave me at the end of every day.  What a legacy my mother has given me, which I passed down to my son. Regrettably for him, as my mother is a much better singer. Instead of being sent to bed worrying over death and God wanting my soul, I was already looking forward to the joy of living life another day. 

Happy birthday mom!

My mother requested that family and friends share a favorite memory as part of her birthday celebration this year. I'm a few months late, but this is my story for her. More than a single moment in time, every day that I wake up smiling is a testimony and remembrance of the love I received from my mom. 

Sympathetic Joy

As I contemplated my Word of Intent at the end of 2017, I knew that I needed to be very deliberate in my choice for 2018. When I began 2017, the meaning that I had placed on my word "adventure" did not prepare me for the true ride, with significant life changes, that the year would bring. When I chose to be intentional with "joy" for 2018, I was inspired by two things. First, The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. A remarkable journey of friendship and how, in the face of many challenges, both have chose to traverse this life with a focus on joy. Second, I had to find a word that when the intent came back to me in ways that I could not imagine, it would not be experiences that would kick me in the butt! Joy. How could one possibly have too much joy?

So at the beginning of the year, I "joyfully" ordered my Word of Intent bracelet, found meditations, essays and quotes that would inspire me on those days that what was happening TO me did not bring a feeling of happiness. The teachings of the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu challenge us that Joy is not a feeling, it is a choice. Of how to respond, interact and live.

"No dark fate determines the future. We do. Each day and each moment, we are able to create and re-create our lives and the very quality of human life on our planet. This is the power we wield.

Lasting happiness cannot be found in pursuit of any goal or achievement. It does not reside in fortune or fame. It resides only in the human mind and heart, and it is here that we hope you will find it." The Book of Joy p. ix

Joyfully confronting the challenges presented each day (ummm, well, you know, working on it), I was working on finding joy in first world problems like a long commute (audio books, sunrise during part of the year), in alone time (instead of being lonely), and work challenges. I wouldn't say "I've got this", but I did feel like it was a great focus and I was using tools I'd gathered to focus on my intent.

That should have been a glaring sign to me. Less than a quarter of the way through the year and my intention felt doable, under control? The Universe doesn't work that way, at least for me! And so at a yoga class last Sunday, with a teacher that brings a more spiritual perspective to the practice, she introduced us to The Third Abode of the Buddha. Not being a Buddhist, I wasn't aware of the four abodes. And still couldn't tell you what are the first, second and fourth abodes. But the third abode, as she began to challenge us, felt personal. Sympathetic joy. I began an internal dialogue immediately, which began with , "Great, I knew it wouldn't be this easy!" to "Oh, I can do this. I'm always happy when my friends experience joy, success, adventures".  This is a great week to practice sympathetic joy, with most of my friends away to places warm to celebrate Spring Break as I continue to work. From Hawaiian honeymoon to Gulf Coast beach vacations, Mexico to the Florida Keys, I can choose to focus on what I'm not experiencing, or find joy in the pictures, message and experiences my friends are enjoying. But this just feels like a continuation of joy as a choice. It isn't difficult for me to be sincerely happy for those I love to find love and joy in experience and relationships. If it's this easy, I'm missing something.

I returned to The Book of Joy, and did a bit of reading on Sympathetic Joy, finding two ways to apply this to my intent this year. The first can be as simple as sharing the joy of my friends on vacation while I work through the cold Michigan spring and maybe for many this is a starting place. It certainly was to me over the years. This season connected me with a deeper meaning of Sympathetic Joy. This is the weeks of celebration of birthdays and losses for my niece, nephew and the babies we grew to love that are no longer with us. In celebration and remembrance, I remembered a time that I was called upon to express Sympathetic Joy. On the very night that we were preparing for the memorial of my nephew Ronan, we received the call that one of the sweet babies we loved would be receiving a lung transplant. Too late for Ronan, so many what ifs. And yet, never wanting another family to experience the loss and grief that surrounded our family, we rejoiced in the hope of the hour for them. There were questions. There were moments of bitterness. There was an intensity of grief in juxtaposition of the hope now offered to someone else. Joy in their Joy. In spite of our own grief and loss. Honestly, there were moments. And they became easier, and more meaningful, after the first initial weekend of misplaced timing. Heartstrings are powerful, and living in another's hope can bring its own joy.

I am grateful that this moment of Sympathetic Joy stands so clearly in my memory. For it is a difficult one. One that I'm hopeful that I rarely experience, but one that serves as an example of the tendency to do work that is surface instead of risking the intensity that is required for real work, that moves us toward gratitude and mindfulness that is not situational, to continue on this journey to becoming all that we are meant to be.

Today I'm grateful for a life that brings me peace, for friends who make it easy to feel Sympathetic Joy, and for the lessons that are continually presented to me on my journey.

Lessons From Goals Not Met

Reflection on the Old Before Ringing in the New

I've never been one for resolutions, at the start of a year or any time, but several years ago as part of living more intentionally in gratitude I found the idea of setting goals for the year a productive way of narrowing my focus. Education as a profession includes goal setting to measure achievement, so I have found myself, at times, focusing on the competition of completing the goals instead of the intention of the goal, the tendency to place emphasis on achievement over growth. This year, having not reached two of the goals that I thought were very in reach, well three if you count a failed marriage, I've spent my time reflecting on why the goals weren't achieved instead of ruminating on the failure. Perhaps I should have been a bit more cognizant of choosing "adventure" as my one word for 2017. I experienced a bit more "adventure" than I had envisioned!

Goal #1: Number of books read. I've set my goal at 75 for the past three years and always go well above this number. I am a prolific reader, and even as I transitioned out of being a school librarian, I read every day. It is my end of the day ritual, even if I've found no time the rest of the day. This year, I only read 50 books. I know that many people look at that at as an accomplishment, but again, this is a goal not met. A goal previously met. And in fairness, if I allowed myself to count my chick lit, I would more than meet the 75 book goal. But I don't. Or at least, never have. So that is also a reflection, why I choose to not count some material. And the answer to that makes me comfortable with my choice. While I share much of my life on social media, including GoodReads for reading and a Facebook Reading Challenge book, I know some of the books I read would make those I'm connected to uncomfortable. And, as an educator, when I began sharing my reading practice on Social Media I was still a school librarian. How much of me am I willing to have as an "open book" (pun intended)? This was reinforced recently when I attended a presentation on human trafficking, horrific reality in my own little corner of the world, as well as world-wide. Great information was shared, and a sense of shared responsibility for recognizing the vulnerable. However, when the faith-based organization representative concluded that much of the problem is "50 Shades of Grey" readers and movie goers, who normalize abuse (her words), she lost me. She hasn't read the stories. Not that I want her to read them. And am totally ok with people being offended and concerned by the subject matter. But, in all its non-literary value, the books do NOT glorify abuse. And I was glad she couldn't go to my GoodReads account and see that I have read the series.

Favorite book read of 2017

Goal #2: Number of miles trailed. This was going to be the year. The year I laughed at a measly 1200 miles and left it in my dust. I loftily set the goal of 1500 miles, determined that every day miles, as well as my focus on adventuring to trails near and far, would definitely hit 1500. Come September, it was apparent that I would not meet that goal, so adjusted it to 1300. I finished at 1292.7.

Peace and joy in the beauty of nature

An important aspect of reflection is to not allow it to be about excuses, but a consideration of all aspects, including were the goals appropriate in the first place. If I had the gift of clairvoyance, and was able to see when setting these goals what "adventure" in 2017 would like..... Who am I kidding. I would have set the unrealistic goals anyway. Which means I have to look at finding the balance in goal setting between appropriate level of challenge in a realistically achievable measure. And the reality is I've had significant life changes in 2017.

First, a new job. The search for which was not a desire on my part for a change, but the reality of my eliminated position. It is a bit stressful, even with reassurance of placement, to be in limbo for almost two months. The resulting change in districts is a great fit, with new challenges, title and compensation. But it comes with a year-round schedule (I know, you non-educators are rolling your eyes) and a 45 minute minimum one-way commute. Those time realities significantly impacted my ability to meet reading and trail mile goals. But the rewards! Grateful every day for this opportunity to work with amazing educators, moving forward in transformative practice, to provide students with life skills and content knowledge.

Chasing waterfalls in Iceland

Second, the empty nest. When the only little egg in your basket (it's tough being an only child!) is ready to begin semi-adulting, the emotions run between "thank God he's ready" and "oh dear Lord, he's really leaving me for good". I have enjoyed the process of watching my son mature into a young man learning to make his way in this world, but man, the space that is left empty seems so much bigger than his 6'2" frame would suggest. Top this with the dissolution of a long marriage, and suddenly I am living alone for the first time in, well, ever. There are moments that it is peaceful and glorious. There are moments that are filled with the stark reality of aloneness.

While the life changes experience during my year of "adventure" certainly contributed to goals not being met, more important in my reflection over the past several days has been what I did experience as a result of not meeting those goals. And that is where I find my gratitude. The truth is that with increased obligations of time that is not flexible, the goals of reading books and completing trail miles is in itself competitive. I don't like to listen to music, podcasts or audio books on the trail. I want to hear the water, the leaves, the wind, the birds. And so when I'm trailing, I can't be reading. And when I'm reading I can't be trailing. And the truth is that I NEED trails, in woods, near water. It is my therapy, my medicine, the way I maintain balance, clarity and do my best thinking. And so it is with choices. I chose vacations that did not allow me to trail significant miles, but the adventure and experiences far outweighed the lack of miles.

 

As I closed the year, I had the opportunity to make choices, especially in completing the adjusted mileage goal. I could have done it. But what would I have missed? Time. Time with ones I love, opportunities that are not of the every day. Mile stone birthdays, parties, surprise weddings, and even time spent waiting for adventures that did not happen. All connected me with those I love, with memories that will last a lifetime and bond me in new ways. All in all, goals not met is not necessarily a bad thing.

Cheers to besties

Today I'm grateful for:

• "Besties" from childhood. Neither time nor geographical space has separated us. Especially as we move into the time of middle age, the deep rooted connections, love and acceptance are a life string.
• Living in a time when being a single, adult woman is not a sentence of poverty and social scorn. My best life will be what I create.
• Cold gear. Long live wool!

Old Becomes New

Determining that my focus for 2017 would be #adventure has me viewing experiences differently. The saying is cliche, but life truly is an adventure. I find myself being more present, in tune with the immediacy of the experience in front of me as it unfolds. This shift has me reflecting as I trail with my nephew, who at 2 and a half is ready to march along under his own power instead of being packed. The delight of deep snow to trudge through, learning about trail markers to guide our way, and the exclamations of joy with each new animal track that crosses the path. I find peace and joy outside on a trail, but experiencing it as if first time all over again with my nephew Simon brings a smile to my face. Was the therapy the trail, or the reminder of seeing the extraordinary in what has become a standard past time?

Tonight I'm grateful for moments of presence, with those that I love. Especially the one delivered by a rainbow.