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I have a history with new year’s resolutions.  Namely breaking them.  And then swearing off them as I prefer not to do things I don’t anticipate will be successful.  In recent years I’ve played with intentions instead.  Feeling less pressure to do anything other than sit back and let the universe take the reigns and make the magic happen.

This year I’m going deep.  I’ve made a vow.  It all happened on New Year’s Eve in a mini meditation retreat at Insight LA in Santa Monica.

A few mornings before the retreat I was in tears about going. I had agreed to it.  Even been the person to initiate the registration after the invitation from JH had been sitting in my inbox for weeks (ignored by me, patiently waiting from her).  Still, there was some dread.  Some fear.  She had just returned from a month at a Modern Zen Buddhist monastery.  I’d been meditating 3 to 10 minutes a day… most days.  Could I keep up?  Was I good enough?  Was it going to be uncomfortable?  Was I going to be judged for my relative inexperience and my obvious lack of skill?  The answers my fear provided in order were: No. No. Yes. Definitely.

I didn’t want to go anymore.

I had already committed, through conversation with my naturopath, purchasing of a book, writing and mailing a check for a registration fee, and many many hours of discussion with JH, to a different relationship with my body in the new year.  I was going to be participating in a group who, along with me, would remove all grains and sugars from their diets and explore the changes to their spiritual body as a result.  My confidence level was high going into this new way of life.  Even though I had NEVER been successful at implementing anything like it before, I was certain I could do it this time.  And I was sure that SOMETHING was going to come up in the silence of meditation that would shake that confidence.  I was dreading it.

We went.

The retreat opened with the teacher guiding us through a ritual.  He explained that the bodhisattvas made vows daily.  Vows to take on the suffering of all.  Something like:

However innumerable sentient beings are, I vow to save them.
However inexhaustible the defilements are, I vow to extinguish them.
However immeasurable the dharmas are, I vow to master them.
However incomparable enlightenment is, I vow to attain it.

These vows give them direction.  When repeated daily, and worn with a protective garment (for them, their robes – for us, knotted blessing cords) they provide steady guidance toward the fulfillment of those vows.

And then, without the need to take on any more than what causes our own suffering he invited us to make a vow that will set the compass of our hearts.  With my eyes closed and my breath at the forefront of my attention the vow came easily.  I vow to value, prioritize, & choose (above all else) WELLBEING for: my body, mind, & spirit; those of my family; loved ones; & those whose I may encounter and can impact.

Red strings were passed around and knotted, first for the belief we hold most dear, second for compassion, and third for our vow.  We tied them on and knew them to be for our protection.  Protection from what?  For ourselves of course!  The rest of the evening was spent in silence.  And in the remaining hours of meditation I did not suffer.  I soothed myself when soothing was needed.  I felt my heart take the lead and set direction toward my vow.  I connected to the power within me to live without suffering.  And the new year rang in with a soft bell, a tearful smiling kiss with JH, and hope.

Happy New Year.  May you find what you seek in the silence when you turn your attention to your heart.

Thank you for the warm reception back to the inter webs friends!  It was quite heart expanding.

My commitment to myself has already wavered, as things tend to do when I don’t put them in my phone as calendar appointments or reminders.  But the good news is that as soon as I realized I had been forgetting to pay attention to myself (my commitment to myself was a minimum of 5 minutes of daily singularly focused self attention: could be blogging, drawing, meditating, walking, etc just has to be intentional), I decided to blog.  Back.  On.  Track.  Woot!

My family just returned from a road trip up to Oregon and back home to Los Angeles and it was lovely.  I wasn’t sure if I was a road trip person.  The road trips of my youth were forced, awkward visits to grandparents I didn’t know how to appreciate when I could or sick dad consolation prizes that felt scary and unnerving.  And I often have a lot of anxiety about visiting other people.  I worry that I won’t spend the right amount of time making it worth their while.  I’m worried that my family (JH and The Boy) won’t like the people we’re visiting and they’ll be uncomfortable and then I’ll be uncomfortable.  I worry that I won’t know what to say or how to act or basically anything required to be a social being.

And on this trip, somehow that magically faded away.  We spent every night in the bed of someone generous enough to offer us one, after eating the dinner they made for us, and departing on the breakfast they made too (people are SO generous)!  And I didn’t go into it knowing how the exchange of energy was going to work.  But instead of fretting about “making it worth their while” I just let myself show up, be kind, and wait for the gifts to be revealed.  And they were!  We came and took sleeping space, food, water, and air and in return we gave conversation, meditation sessions, a playmate for siblings who usually have just each other, dishwashing, vacuuming, hugs, love, and authentic presence.  And it was more than enough.  And I never worried that it wasn’t really.

And I was reminded of something my great friend, JM, says, if we’re going to make up stories in our heads, let’s make up good ones.

The story I used to have in my head about traveling/visiting was one where I was a “taker” and other people “givers” and that being the opposite from my usual role in life… was not something I could take.  The stories our minds make up are intensely convincing no?

Just before the trip I realized I couldn’t find The Boy’s iPod (and he was leaving on an airplane with his Nana the next day and “needed” it).  I used the magical “find my iPhone” feature on iCloud and got cryptic readings about whether the device was connected to the internet (it wasn’t, then it was, then it wasn’t, then it was…) and the location where it was last recorded.  And I, not recalling that I had taken it out of my bag in the car earlier and tucked it into the glove box, concocted an elaborate story in my head about how I must have dropped it getting out of the car, someone in the neighborhood found it, they were busy stealing it and connecting it to their internet connection when they saw the LOST message I sent to the device, so they shut it down, and turned it back on again in curiosity, and shut it down again out of nervousness.

And then I went to look in the car.  And found it.  And got a reality check.

If we’re going to make up stories in our heads… let’s make up good ones, eh?

xo
KM

This past weekend I had the pleasure of giving the keynote address at the Women’s Wellness Retreat at Camp Arroyo, a YMCA camp operated by the YMCA of the East Bay.  90 women from all walks of life were in attendance taking the weekend as an opportunity relax, rejuvenate, pay extra care to themselves, connect, and take on challenges.

Arriving at camp, I felt intimidated.

I haven’t been having the smoothest couple of months.  It’s a time I would have described as “not being at my best.”  For reasons related to parenting, work, and life in general I’ve been pushed past my limits and out of my comfort zones. And I’ve reacted by stress eating, raising my voice, shutting down and worst of all: not writing.

As I started to get to know the ladies at the retreat, and not let them know who I was as often as possible, my old friend doubt joined the party.

“What do you have to offer any of them?” she chimed in.  “You can here to talk about authentic self care after months of putting yourself last… They’re already here, they already know everything you have to say.”

“Gee, thanks for your encouragement there, friend” I had the sense to respond.  “Your feedback isn’t welcomed right now, be on your way.” And she kept her voice quiet but showed up in my body in other ways (a stress dream about speaking after not having oreoared at all, anxiety in my stomach, chest, throat, shoulders, neck, and head…).  I continued to make it known that while I knew she was trying to help, I wasn’t interested in hearing from her by sharing my nervousness with a few new friends.  And when Saturday night came I stood up in front of the room and did what I had promised. And as it turned out, there were women there that needed to hear from me.

And reflecting about doubt’s contribution to the weekend got me thinking about what it really meanest to be at our “best.”

I think of my “best self” as the one who is compassionate, patient, kind, intelligent, creative, mindful, and committed.  And under stress, my capacity for all of those things is limited…  in some cases I seem to lose touch with those qualities completely.  I become judgmental, angry, rude, short sighted, limited, mindless, and want to give up and walk away.

Here’s the thing…  those things I described above, are not traits, they are feelings.  That best self FEELS compassionate where her opposite FEELS judgmental.  They are not me, and they don’t come and go… they remain static. All that changes is my sense of connection to them.  I am always my best self because I am always doing my best (and so are you).

Best is as good as it gets in the circumstances.  And how you and I show up in any room at any moment is our best.  It’s easy to look back and evaluate behavior and choices and say what we could have done differently… if we were truly able to, we would have.  Sometimes we do!  Sometimes we stop ourselves mid nag and change our language or tone.  Sometimes we change course when we’ve headed to dessert table for another helping and refill our water glass instead.  Sometimes we delete the text message we just typed instead of pushing send because we know sending it wouldn’t be helpful.

We do our best with what we have in the moment.

We are always at our best.

Have you heard of this “word of the year” trend?  It’s a bit of a substitute for making new year’s resolutions.  I haven’t made resolutions for years.  Some time ago I realized the process of choosing resolutions and promptly not following through on them was a surefire way to set myself up to feel failure and subsequent shame… so I stopped doing it.  

What happened next is that I started looking at every day as an opportunity learn and grow.  I almost wrote change there because I think that was the intent at first, but since then I’ve learned that striving for constant change is remaining in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction with myself whereas being open to learning and growth is just being in the state of living, not always moving forward, but being.

I can see now that my failed resolutions were a product of not being connected to my true desires and not honoring the commitments I made to myself (because they weren’t commitments I really wanted to make!).  When this happens often enough, a sense of self trust is lost.  What’s funny is that if I were to make resolutions now I would be much more likely to be successful because I would choose things with purposeful intention and my relationship with myself is strong enough that I wouldn’t be willing to betray my own trust any longer.

I learned earlier this week about the idea of choosing a word for the year and before I was even through reading about it and thinking about whether I’d do it the word was echoing in my head:

SUCCESS.

Success is never a word I would have chosen before.  I would have gravitated to a more that I judged as more “noble”  like love, forgiveness, compassion… and those are the words I’ve been working with rather diligently the last couple of years.  But I’ve done enough.  Truly.  They’ve received enough of my attention and affection that I’ve built a solid foundation in the values that are important to me.  They aren’t going anywhere.

Late last year I was shopping at a jewelry sale and gravitated towards these bracelets that are a piece of cord with a single crystal strung on them.  They were called “Prescriptions for Life” and were perfectly packaged in plastic cylinders that looked like medicine bottles.  I picked up every single one and was putting the one that supported Love in my basket when I felt the “Success” and “Luck” (also: follow through) staring at me.  I bought those instead… and those bracelets (that I’ve worn every day since) mark the first moment I allowed myself to prioritize success and accomplishment.  That’s all it takes.  Do one small thing to plant a seed and watch as it melts into your intentions and infuses your experiences with new life.

I am ready to experience success.  I know I don’t yet know what that means, what it feels like, or what I will need to do or let go of to get it… but I am prepared to find out.  Success is the word for this year.  Success is the experience I will have.  Success is what I’m worthy of.

My high school drama teacher (at one time the sole distributor of life altering wisdom I paid any attention to) said that one of the biggest mistakes most people make is believing they’re the only one who feels/thinks the way they do.  Time and time again I’ve found this to be true… and it’s comforting to take solace in the company of being known, heard, or understood even if it’s just by someone who isn’t in the same room (or maybe someone you don’t even know yet).  Shared experiences and being able to see ourselves in others contributes more toward the goal of world peace than anything else I can think of.

In recent years I’ve become acquainted with the second cousin to this life lesson…  that, another of the biggest mistakes we make is assuming that everyone thinks the way we do.  When we send a card to someone who would love to have lunch with us, they may not be receiving the love we sent.  Instead they’re focusing on the lackthey feel from the non-existent lunch date.  When we have a great plan for the way a project is going to go at work, the person we’re presenting it to (who has the same exact goals) may not see the “greatness” we’ve devised.

I forget this lesson a lot.  Many of us probably do.  The holiday season is a common time for me to be confronted by it again and have an opportunity to circle around it, look at it from all sides, pick it up and toss it around, get to know it better, and start to understand it.  Besides serving as a reminder to not make assumptions about what others need, feel, or think… this phenomena seems to be what creates cultural expectations or societal norms.  It’s the huge space taking energy that leaves little wiggle room for those practicing outside the traditional.

Earlier this week I posted on Facebook about my partner and I exchanging rings.  We had been “string married” for fun at a kid’s birthday party months before and found out we loved wearing our “rings” (so much so that they got rather worn out and nasty by the time we took them off for good).  As an interim solution to meeting the desire for symbolic commitment without wanting to be “engaged” to be “married” (because we simply haven’t decided yet if that’s the path that matches our desires or practical needs) we decided to get silver rings engraved with a quote from a favorite movie.  Photos of two, wide silver bands brandished with “because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible” and their background story accompanied a Facebook “life event” reading “Got Ringed.”

I was expecting a lot of excitement and fawning about how adorable the idea (read: we) is and was surprised instead by a flurry of congratulations.  The reaction felt like we had announced an engagement, which wasn’t the intent.  It was lovely… there’s not much better than your friends and family celebrating your love… but it felt off.  I wondered if I needed to clarify.

It took me back to planning the wedding to my now former husband.  We wanted it to be picnic style.  We didn’t rent chairs.  We asked people to dress casually and prepare to sit on the ground.  There were many questions about it, challenges of it, and lots of prodding/reminding from us that this would not be a typical wedding… still, not a single person arrived in anything less than their Sunday best, expecting a chair.

Somewhere along the way we’ve invested so much in the guarantee of sameness that I fear we’ve begun to rely on it as a way of validating our worth.  Even I, who encourages people of all walks of life to live as their authentic self, got a little down in the dumps and insecure feeling about the modest, intentional Christmas we had while looking at pictures of piles of gifts pouring out from underneath trees.

I have felt different my entire life.  As a child I acted it out on purpose with mismatched socks, bowler hats, and neckties (wow, I was a hipster before it was cool) hoping someone would see and appreciate it.  Then I learned to squash it when that plan backfired, and now I’m back to acting it out again… in a more digestible way.  And encouraging others to do the same.

It can be lonely though…  when I realize that not everyone thinks like me after a long time of forgetting, the first reaction is an old familiar ache.  Being different isn’t easy.  Still, every time I think I’m different, or alone in being different, I find out I’m not.  Thank goodness for that.  May the cycle continue to push and pull on all of us until we’ve stretched into the fullest expressions of ourselves, living lovingly, side by side with our most similar and different neighbors.

Happy New Year!

I judge people.

We all do.  It’s part of the human experience.  And while some might say that the goal of a mindful life is to live free of judgment, I like to remind them (and really, myself) that living free of judgment includes judgment of the judgers.  So, I judge.  I notice.  I correct… rinse and repeat.

This week I’ve done a lot of judging other people for what ruffles their feathers.  Really?  You’re upset about food spilling on your sweater?  Or that you can’t get moving done today that movers are coming to do tomorrow?  Or that you’re not going to get to have dessert after a day of eating every sweet thing you could get your hands on (that one was my son)?  And it wasn’t even that I couldn’t understand why these things were upsetting… it was more that people held on to their upset when they were clearly in situations they couldn’t control.  The sweater was covered in sauce, the moving wasn’t going to get done today no matter how badly you wanted it to, and eating your weight in goodies for lunch is a reasonable substitute for dessert.  Let it go.

I started to interpret their distress as “they are letting stupid stuff upset them” because although I was aware that I sometimes let things upset me they’re definitely not stupid…  And then I watched myself.

Things I have “let upset me” for longer than 2 minutes this week:

• Tablecloths that didn’t arrive at a party on time
• Not getting to arrange the fake snow drape on the table the way I had envisioned
• Being asked to fill up hot water bottles to warm the bed
• People asking me questions they think I should know the answer to
• Being asked to know my 2014 vacation plans
• Dinner plans changing from Vietnamese to Thai
• Ill fitting pants
• I could go on…

We all have a thing, sometimes things… big things… That thing that triggers us no matter the circumstances because it’s tied tightly to our core issue–that main lesson we’re here on this earth to learn in this lifetime.  And, as it turns out, we have a lot of small things too.  And none of them are stupid, they are all reflections of our feelings and needs and every emotional experience we have is valid.

The thing about that big trigger is that it’s trying to get our attention to give us information.  It’s trying to tell us which direction to go, what to watch for, and how to begin the process of healing.  And the small stuff, well…  it’s distracting us.  Yes, every conflict is a lesson.  Yes, noticing your responses to things (even the small ones) can give you insight into yourself, others, and the world.  And if we can stop, take note, and move on we are building up our resilience as learners to take the big trigger head on.

But when we get all wrapped up in the small stuff and are constantly being triggered, without  pause for evaluation or self inquiry, we can’t tell the difference anymore between the little helper lessons and the GREAT BIG LESSONS!

I encourage you to give up sweating the small stuff (and it’s not quite all small stuff) so you can notice when the big stuff arrives and have the time, energy, and focus to work with it.  Your life, even when it feels like it isn’t, is working with you to help you become the best version of yourself.  It isn’t always easy.  It isn’t always painless.  But it’s worth it.