Tag: joy

open up and say AWE

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*pardon the long absence. I’ve been distracted by…life.

Spokane River
Spokane River

flow like a river

When I was a kid, I used to spend entire days wandering the riverbank near our family home. The allure of the river and all that surrounded it called to me on a daily basis, and there was no end to the wonderment that I experienced once I crossed River Road. Even without knowing the names of the trees, the brush, the birds, the wildflowers, I knew they were a central part of who I was, and I knew that I was more myself when I was in that part of my world.

Beginning in the early spring, I took to the terrain surrounding the river like a true explorer, ripping off my shoes (and sometimes more) and padding through the thickets without any worry about what anyone thought. I delighted when the spring runoff caused the water to rise, creating secret lagoons where I pretended the cottonwood and alder trees were the canopy of a Louisiana swamp. I hid in the grass, ran through the fields, jumped over horse droppings, and sang at the top of my lungs. To this day, the blossoms of red osier dogwood and the tender toughness of buttercups and bluebells enchant me. And to this day, I feel the pull to run barefoot over the earth while swinging my arms in wild abandon.

I wish I had a river so long. I would teach my feet to fly.
-Joni Mitchell

And yet I don’t do these things now. In fact, I rarely even walk my dog without my smart phone tucked into my pocket, because God forbid I see something spectacular that I miss for an Instagram shot. And what if someone tries to reach me by text? Or I want to casually glance at Facebook or Twitter, or to look at something interesting through the view of my phone, thinking about capturing an image rather than taking it in and tending to the experience that comes up when I look at beauty or witness nature?

Never, in my entire childhood, did I carry a camera to the river. I don’t even know that I owned one. I can’t imagine that I thought about what anyone else was doing, aside from whatever random friend or relative I managed to wrangle into what I considered my very own nature preserve. I simply entered into my experience fully and with all senses alive to whatever came my way. As an adult, this takes more intention and a willingness to pull away from the distractions and minutiae that so often pull away the possibility for moments of awe.

awakening AWE

The river and the area surrounding it represented where I found my “flow”; not for the way the river carried water or fish or water bugs, or for the way groups of children careened down the steep banks on inner tubes after a snow storm, but for the way I lost track of everything and entered into ‘effortless action’ when I was there. Now, as an adult, I recognize my need for more opportunities for flow, and, more importantly, for A.W.E.: (an acronym I made up while riding my bicycle) aesthetic wonderment experiences.

AWE’s don’t have to take a lot of time, and they certainly don’t have to be moments of spiritual awakening. They merely require an ability to awaken the senses to wonder (which may be easier without a computer, television or a smart phone nearby…). Moments of AWE are different for everyone and there are a bazillion opportunities for AWE for each individual. The only similarity is that all AWE moments are opportunities for letting go and experiencing what it is to be alive and connected in this world.

For me, these moments are most likely to occur when I’m outside. Maybe it’s in the garden, on the beach, riding my bike, stomping in puddles, or running with my dog. But they can also happen when my face is buried in my partner’s back while I listen to the heaviness of her sleeping breath or when I pause from looking at the computer screen to gaze out the window at a couple of birds frolicking in the tree. There aren’t rules. Just possibilities.

And that’s the beauty of it. AWE is available right now. And I firmly believe that AWE could save the world. Sort of an alternative version of ‘turn on, tune in, drop out’. Only in this case, no need for psychedelics. Turn on your intention, tune in to experience, drop out of the judging, thinking, worrying, craziness of life. Be. Here. Now.

Will the real YOU step forward?

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Enough about you already. Let’s talk about YOU.

It’s not that I’m antisocial; I hate useless small talk. It’s not that I don’t enjoy good conversation; I want dialogue that involves some amount of meaning. My head spins when people give me the rundown of their weekend (e.g.: I did this here and then I ate this and did these chores and this thing that has little to nothing to do with anything that really matters to you, or me for that matter, I’m just filling up your time with useless facts about my life because I’m uncomfortable with silence).

Seriously. Enough already. Aren’t we beyond this by now?

I want to know (ala The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer) what is on your heart, burning in your mind, making you want to scream with joy. I want connection. I want authenticity, even when it involves some amount of mess (maybe even especially if it involves some amount of mess). Anything else, when it doesn’t entail matters that I need to know (such as weather patterns that involve a need to run for cover, gather emergency equipment, or make plans to escape to higher ground), doesn’t usually interest me.

 I blame it on the cancer.

After being diagnosed with cancer five years ago, I realized I had little room for crap in my life. In fact, I worked pretty hard to limit the people whose energy dragged me down. As one colleague kindly described it, I encouraged more “net positive” people into my life and limited the amount of “net negative” folks. It’s been quite lovely, actually.

I’m not saying I only want positive folks in my life. “Net positive” is not exclusively positive. It’s not happy go lucky. And it’s not fake. A net positive person is authentic, genuine, willing to admit to limitations, able to sit in silence before giving unwanted advice, and totally, beautifully, perfectly infallible (i.e. very messy from time to time).

When I am around someone who is net positive, I feel whole and lifted and not dragged down.

A net negative person, on the other hand, could be someone who is passive aggressive, painfully phony, or tedious. A net negative person most likely has little insight into their own crap and tends to be one sided and self-centered.

When I spend time with a net negative person, I am antsy, exhausted, frustrated, and often distracted by thinking of ways out of the situation.

Unacceptable. Best to cultivate net positivity in my life.

A few ways I encourage net positivity, wholeheartedness, authenticity, and realness into my life:

 

  • Allow for messy. Perfection makes me uncomfortable and just a little skeptical. I crave a little bit of mess in my life, which means I want to be able to see other people in less than perfect states. Part of asking for messy means that I have to admit to my messy. 
  • Stop doing. Just be. This goes beyond mindfulness where one is expected to breathe into discomfort, be in the present moment, blah, blah, blah.  I love that, too, don’t get me wrong, but what I mean here is to stop trying to do, help, or fix what isn’t broken. Listen more. Love more. Forgive more. But mostly, stop and just be present with another person. It’s a miracle. 
  • Send out love without being prompted. A text, a card, an email, an impromptu hug or appreciation. I work at being grateful for the small and large miracles in my life that come in the form of human beings, and let them know what it is I’m grateful for. 
  • Model authenticity and positivity. As easy as it sounds. When someone is draining my happy juice with their negativity, I do my best to infuse the conversation with as much realness and positivity as I can possibly muster. And when that fails; 
  • Walk Away. It’s ok to pass. It’s ok to decline offers for dinner, walks, coffee breaks, telephone chats, etc. If it’s draining and awful, I pass it up. I make it my own personal responsibility to fill up my own container of happy for when I might need it one day.

 And for inspiration, I refer to someone like the amazing Brené Brown, Ph.D.:

 Authenticity is a daily practice.

Choosing authenticity means: cultivating the courage to be emotionally honest, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable; exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are all made strength and struggle and connected to each other through a loving and resilient human spirit; nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we let go of what we are supposed to be and embrace who we are. Authenticity demands wholehearted living and loving- even when it’s hard, even when we’re wresting with the shame and fear of not being good enough, and especially when the joy is so intense that we’re afraid to let ourselves feel it.

Mindfully practicing authenticity during out most soul-searching struggles is how we invite grace, joy, and gratitude into our lives.

Be authentic. Be messy. Be wholehearted. Be YOU. And then tell me about what’s really going on.

out of the compost pile, I bloom

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Today, the sun is shining in a wild show of spring. The birds have been up since before daylight singing into the world, and I’ve spent much of the morning watching a squirrel scavenging for seeds and nuts below the bird feeder. There are countless blooms in the garden surrounding the patio; multicolored blossoms that beckon the bumblebees with rich and fragrant nectar. It’s absolutely stunning, and I can’t help but admire the natural beauty before me. I am also fighting my inner freak that is screaming in my head that the lawn needs mowing, the garden needs weeding, and the kitchen needs mopping.

She is such a drag to be around.

I know for a fact that the world won’t end if I don’t mow the lawn or weed the garden. These tasks can certainly wait. I also know that, sometimes, lovely things happen when I stop and take in the wonder of the world without trying to change anything. Being content with this and that. I notice the small things that I would have passed by in my hurry to get things done. Like the glorious red poppies that poke brightly out from the compost pile, showing that beauty can grow from discarded garden materials. And somehow the blossoms look more gorgeous knowing that they weren’t planned and haven’t been tended to. These flowers have made their way in the world all on their own, and they serve their purpose so beautifully.

I also know for certain that I miss out on so much with my need to be productive; experiences, pleasures, and personal growth. I forget that beautiful things come from the simple act of stopping and that if I just soften a bit, I can still get things done and my heart will be happier in the end. No need for head spinning or list writing. Just being here. Now.

Even in my (limited) experience of teaching yoga, I’ve noticed that the less I try to plan and control, the more joy and ease I feel. I’m happier, and the class appears to be more satisfied in their experience. I then remember what it is about a yoga class that I’ve loved all along- joining with other people to breathe and move together in community while cultivating awareness in the moment. Everything can wait- the mat is rolled out, the phone is off, the computer out of sight. Practice in being here now and not trying to change or fix or be anything other than what I am.

Out of the compost pile, a flower blooms. A reminder that I can bloom anywhere.

dance

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Dance when you’re broken open.
Dance when you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Struck, the dancer hears a tambourine inside her,
like a wave that crests into foam at the very top,
Begins.
Maybe you don’t hear the tambourine,
or the tree leaves clapping time.
Close the ears on your head,
that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes.
There are other things to see, and hear.
Music. Dance.
A brilliant city inside your soul!

– Rumi

 In the past two weeks, my body has been reawakening and my spirit lifting. I’ve been integrating moments of spontaneously removing my head coverings, which seems like a small thing, I’m sure, but there’s vulnerability in baring a naked head to the world. Especially when that hairlessness isn’t by choice. And so the times when I take off my hat in the park to take advantage of the sun shining down on my crown, I try to quietly acknowledge this temporary place that I currently occupy- that space between treatment and healing, life and death, internal and external. The present moment, where I am able to recognize that vulnerability is a gift of this human experience, and that I am not alone in it.

This past week, I had my fourteenth infusion, and I celebrated the following day by dancing at NIA class with a community of joyful souls. Even though nobody but me and my friends knew about the countdown of infusions, it was a precious gift to feel secure enough to throw my hat and over shirt to the back of the room when I was too hot. Wearing just my camisole and yoga pants, I spun, leapt, and danced with a smile on my face and my bald head shining for the world to see. I couldn’t have felt more beautiful or healthy, and it was clear from the responses of some of my classmates that they appreciated my honest presence- scars and all.

The more I consider what is important in my world, the more it boils down to the people around me and my ability to be authentically me. I love that I’ve been encouraged to be open and honest in my experience and to continue to be my silly self. Cancer doesn’t always make one wise, but it absolutely encourages one to reflect on what really matters. To me, that includes dancing, even when I can’t keep the rhythm, and laughing, even when nobody else gets the joke. Isn’t that where joy begins? And it flows into the world, creating possibility.