Use that Radio

I am not in this alone.  None of us are. 

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.

Authentic Discomfort

Sitting down to write this blog entry, two ideas come to mind:

1. What is most comfortable is not always what is most authentic.
2. We must push our limits to figure out what is best for us.

I’ll start with number one.  Just because something comes easily does not mean it accurately represents who we are.  There are many things I do, not because they are true self expressions, but because I’ve learned that they are means to be accepted and get rewards.  It basically amounts to rerouting my desires to please other people. 

Society teaches us that to be successful, we must adhere to certain social mores or participate in particular activities so that others will accept and promote us.  Because of this, many of us have trained ourselves—since childhood usually—to say what we think others will like rather than what we truly feel.  Even if we don’t want to do X activity, if someone says we must and that it won’t hurt anyone, we do it. 

Over time, these alternate responses overshadow our natural inclinations.  For people with eating disorders, this can mean always choosing the “good” food rather than what we are really craving.  Often, the decision to select the “good” food or the “healthiest” food on the menu is so engrained that we don’t even think we want anything else.  Many anorexics (including myself) say quite honestly, “But I don’t LIKE cookies,” or, “I don’t LIKE cheese,” or any other kind of food that might be frightening. They may not realize that fear is fueling these responses.  The anorexic may actually like cookies, but she doesn’t like the anxiety that comes along with eating them. 

It takes time to decipher which foods we honestly don’t like from those that we have simply decided, at some point, are not an option for us.  It’s okay to genuinely dislike cookies, but I suggest testing the assumption of dislike first.

For me, I had to try all kinds of foods I thought I hated, consequently discovering that I actually enjoyed many of them.  I had to face those fears.  Now, I can choose foods I truly like, even if it might be food that scares me a little.  I can usually tell now when I want something but am simply afraid.  That’s an opportunity to push my boundaries.

And so I come to number two.  We have to push our limits to know what we are truly comfortable with.  Sometimes, the most authentic thing we can do is test our own boundaries.  Even as children, we intuitively know that when it’s time to grow, it’s time to push things.  Kids eat too many cookies and learn what is enough for them.  Kids act out emotionally in public and wait for responses to tell them if it was appropriate or not. 

Kids try to climb things they’ve never scaled. They wear impractical outfits and find out later why their mother tried to make them wear layers.  Kids run as far and as fast as they can, eventually learning just how much they can push those limits so that the next time, they can run a little farther and a little faster.

We have to do the same thing.  Again, I’ve demonstrated this with food.  To know what full feels like, I had to eat beyond it.  Of course, when overeating becomes habitual, something is off-kilter, but to reach fullness, a person has to know what it feels like.  Only then can a person appreciate all the different levels of satiation that feel good to her.

To learn to eat new foods, I have to actually try them. To learn what I feel comfortable wearing in public, I have to purchase and put on different clothing.  To refine new songs, I have to play them in public. To learn how to trust, I have to open up to trusted friends.  These actions all feel uncomfortable at first.

Discomfort isn’t always a signal that something is wrong.  It’s a signal that something is happening that we don’t know what to do with yet.  Sometimes, we need to pull back and reach a more comfortable spot.  Other times, we need to try that new thing, sit in the discomfort, and see if we find peace instead.

I know it’s time to push my limits when a little urge inside of me crops up repeatedly, asking me to try something new.  Often, that urge scares me in the beginning.  But if it stays with me, I know I have to try it.  With the eating disorder, the urge may have been to eat a brownie fudge sundae.  In other areas of my life, it was to try a new singing style, to reach a new level of honesty, or to visit a place where I’d never been.

So many things in life are uncomfortable.  That discomfort doesn’t mean that what we’re doing is wrong or doesn’t express our true selves.  Going beyond boundaries is how we find out whether those boundaries are safety guards or prison walls.  Sure, I may eat too much now and then.  Sure, I may say things I regret.  Sure, I may end up going to places where I am utterly bored and disappointed.  But after those experiences, I know how much is enough, what is truly me, and where I feel most alive.  I can also learn to ask forgiveness when my tests infringe on someone else. 

When it’s time to grow, it’s time to get honest, ask ourselves if we are really being authentic, and live in different that reflect our true selves a little better. Stretch yourselves, people!  I’ll be right there with you.

Boxes

We all grow up with certain pictures in our heads—certain patterns, images, routines, sayings, and models that we are taught (or teach ourselves) are right and wrong.  Absolutes, or near-absolutes:  This is the way a nice person behaves.  This is what anger looks like.  This is what a job is.  This is how good people feel.  These are the things I have to do before inviting people over.  This is a good food; this is a bad food.  I am capable of X only if Y is present. These are the milestones I must achieve to be successful. The list of possible notions goes on and on. 

In my view, these are all boxes.  As human beings, we feel compelled to organize, describe, and categorize our lives.  Doing so makes it easier to see our place in the world.  It helps us make decisions.  It helps us build a sense of who we are based on what we are not.  We put things in boxes so that we can move forward and live.  We have to have some basis for choosing our next moves, so we wrap them up neatly in boxes. 

Many people cling all their lives to the boxes they were given as children.  They operate according to rules that worked for others—or rules they were told work for others.  For me, however, growing up has been, if anything, a string of opened boxes.

To understand the world and live in a fulfilling, satisfying way, I have had to face the fear that my most deeply held beliefs may not be true.  And even if I couldn’t prove some of my boxes false to a scientific certainty, I have determined that many of them no longer work for me and are impossible ways for me to live.  The boxes must be opened.

We all open boxes in big and small ways.  A baby eventually learns that mommy is not magically disappearing when the baby can no longer see her.  Mommy goes out, does other things, and remains alive and present somewhere even when she is not with her child.  This realization is essential for the baby to understand what people inherently are and how the world works. 

Other boxes are opened in less natural ways.  Some people who grew up in an environment where one race or gender was valued more than another may discover one day that the undervalued part of society has the same worth as everyone else.  A person who was taught that being attractive is the only way to succeed in life might meet a few people who, although they are not the image of perfection our society worships, are highly successful and likeable people.  Those encounters can alter that person’s paradigm. 

Someone may think that people who live in a certain country or city behave in particular ways.  Then, she visits that place and sees that nothing is how she imagined.  In another case, someone may grow up in a given religion and, at a certain point, start questioning it and eventually leave or radically change his spiritual practice. 

I have had to question deep-down beliefs about how people should behave.  I thought that I had to always be prepared, always have a full-time job, always regard family with sacred awe.  None of those ideas are bad, but to view them as absolutes is completely limiting.  It’s like thinking some foods are bad and others are good or that being a certain weight will equal a happy life.  It feels comforting because choices are limited, and I can easily see where I stand success-wise.  If I eat X, I’m good.  If I weigh X, I’m good.  If I am kind to my parents, I’m good.  If I am gainfully employed, I’m good. 

None of those statements are true.  But it felt safe to have concrete measures to stack myself up against. 

I have grown the most when I followed the courage to question my core beliefs.  I haven’t necessarily made radical changes in every area of my life.  Some values I picked up as a child still guide me.  But most have been tweaked, and many are no longer part of how I view the world.

 I no longer have the same spiritual beliefs I grew up with.  I no longer dress in certain ways, just to fit in.  I’m no longer quiet about my emotions or ideas in order to be considered a “nice person.” 

I’m still in the process of ridding myself of a few boxes.  The “what other people think about me matters” box is still duct taped on some edges.  The fact is, sometimes what other people think DOES matter to me.  The question is, do I care?  And then, of course, I wonder, “Maybe it really never does matter.”  In this case, I made a new box: the “what other people think about me does not matter” box.  Although I’m not entirely rid of the first one, I can choose which box to apply in any instance.  I usually pick up the latter, but having the earlier one available is a comfort.  Perhaps it will deteriorate eventually from disuse. 

Boxes are not bad.  We need them in order to function in the world, make decisions, and form ideas about who we are.  But we need to realize that boxes are not unchanging.  They are not permanent fixtures.  And the boxes we own are not the only ones in the world.  We can pick up new ones, discard old ones, and refashion ones so that they fit better. 

Most of all, even when using boxes, I try to remember to open the tops and see how much more is out there.  It may be comforting to live in a tiny box for a while, but the wonders of life cannot be contained in a small space like that.  Or maybe they can…  This is the beauty of opening the lid.  Nothing has to be true forever.  I can be open to any possibility and learn new things all the time. 

Maybe I don’t need to be in X profession.  Maybe I can go back to school at age XX.  Maybe I can move to another country.  Maybe what he thinks doesn’t matter.  Maybe she is wrong.  

Life is enriched when we learn to remain open to all possibilities.  We can choose particular beliefs we want to vouch for, but we can also listen and learn from other ways of thinking.  When I see someone in a box, I’m reminded of how limited it is, but I am also sensitive to how difficult living without boxes can be—and that living entirely without them might even drive a person insane.  

As for me, I’m learning that I can trust myself to question life.  When I lived in Spain and went through a deep depression, I made a conscious decision to question my deepest beliefs.  Nothing I knew was working for me anymore, but I felt deathly afraid of leaving old values behind.  Instead of giving in to the fear, I made the choice to live life differently, under different parameters, trusting that I would be okay.  I believed that if the values I left behind turned out to be right, I would be led back to them. 

I questioned religion, family, school, music, and everything I’d ever been afraid to walk away from.  Bidding my old beliefs goodbye was the only route to sanity for me.  I have never regretted the choice I made in Spain and the decisions that have followed along that path of rethinking and investigation.  

Whenever I haven’t had my core notions challenged or learned anything new for a while, I start feeling less satisfied and more off-balanced.  Mental and emotional issues surface, and my eating typically goes at least a little wonky, too.  I may feel depressed or hopeless.  When those stretches of stagnation hit, it’s time to break out the box cutters.

Perspective for a Better Day

The difference between a good day and a bad day for me is sometimes as simple as this:

On a bad day, I constantly wonder how I'm going to make it through.

On a good day, I know I will make it through and that the adventure is watching how it happens.

She Moves Intuitively

She moves intuitively. I just wrote a song with that title while envisioning the woman inside me who moves according to the tides within herself. And that takes her to exactly where she needs to be. Yes, I certainly want to be her.

Over the past few weeks, I have been trying to move according to my intuitions. It amuses me, however, how often I’m not sure exactly what I intuitively want to do! My intuition feels buried under other things I’ve learned throughout the years.

I was taught to do certain things to survive or to supposedly make my path through life smoother. I pay my bills immediately, clean my house at regular intervals, and behave in particular ways around different groups of people. I say this instead of that, do this when I mean that, eat this not that… Do you see where I’m going?

For all of us, our parents and society have given us a lot of shoulds. Sometimes, those shoulds are wise. We can use advice a lot of the time from people more experienced than ourselves. However, some of that advice does not apply to particular situations—or it may never apply at all.

What if the world says I need to eat at X time but I am hungry at a different time? What if I’m “supposed” to say X thing to be polite or if I’m supposed to behave a certain way to climb the corporate ladder, but I don’t mean those words or like behaving that way? What if the way the world says I should dress and move through it runs contrary to who I know I am?

I have every right to say no and behave in ways that people might sneer at. So be it. I have that right.

So, I’m moving along with the flow of me, not with the world. I’ve come up against some snags, but I can offer a bit of advice to others trying to act according to their intuitions:

1. Take quiet time every day to stop and do NOTHING. You may meditate during this time or just stop and breathe. The main thing is to quiet your mind and spirit. You can’t know what you want unless you provide time to communicate with yourself.
2. Don’t always respond immediately to every request you receive. You don’t have to accept invitations without thinking about them first. If your heart jumps when you get an invitation and you KNOW you want to go, then accept that one. But if you feel neutral, give yourself time to check in and see what you really want. You’ll probably be sure of the yeses. Take time to figure out the nos.
3. Get enough sleep. I have been low on this commodity for quite some time. This week showed me just how detrimental sleep deprivation is to my ability to make decisions. Sleep is necessary. Everything gets muddled when our minds can’t operate at optimum capacity.
4. Eat when you are hungry. For those of use with eating disorders, this is a serious struggle. And for many others, it’s hard to do, too. Our culture does not show us how meaningful it is to stop and ask ourselves whether or not we are really hungry before we eat. It also advocates “saving up” for the next meal. Why not just eat when we’re hungry? We think better and feel less frantic when fully satisfied. And feeling frantic is not conducive to decision making.
5. Love yourself, whether or not you think you chose the “right” thing. Enough said.
6. Remind yourself that every decision can be the right one, that all are equal. If you imagine that every step you take throughout the day is equal, it can be easier to see what you really want. Equality strips away the different weights that society, family, friends, or eating disorders place on things, leaving only what you truly value.

Those are just a few tips from me.

In other news, I baked a cake this week and LOVED it. It was a big hit and reminded me of how much I enjoy the meditative act of baking (and the tasty results!). And Lime-A-Way toilet bowl cleaner is a gift from heaven! Hard water stains GONE—in a flash. That counts as a miracle to me, and we all need those :)

Giving Up

I never give up. And I give up all the time. This is one of life’s great paradoxes.

Most people shun the idea of giving in. I often hear my own voice saying things like, “You can’t let go of this one. You can’t give in. Just a little farther. You’ve come this far; don’t give up now. Keep stretching. You can do this. There is enough. You can make it.”

But how many times, for the sake of sanity and happiness, do I also hear, “You can let this one go. Release. Surrender. Loose your grip. Take it easy. Rest now. You are not in control of outcomes; just let go. Give it up. Just give a little.”?

The same phrase, moved into a different context, reframes life and the way I live it. People claim it takes more strength to refuse to relent, to march onward despite aches and pains. For me, however, the endless march comes fairly naturally. Of course, I have plenty of moments when passivity and inaction take hold. But here, I’m focusing on the many, many times when I commit so fully to a task or ideal that I may never release it. I will hold onto it until I see completion.

Certain projects or ways of thinking evolve into monolithic dedications. I devote undue time and resources (internal and external) to “high priority” ideas that seem to have been labeled “high priority” without any cause.

I may decide that, to save money or reduce stress, I will take time every night to make lunch for work the next day. A task that serves as a sort of self-caring convenience can become a monotonous task that my obsessive-compulsive side refuses to relinquish. I will make the lunch every night because I have committed to doing so, even if it’s one in the morning before I get home. Over time, I’m exhausted and resentful of the activity. I want nothing more than to go to bed. But I might continue just because the act provides me safety and the illusion of self-care.

In the past, I also stayed true to certain spiritual ideas for years simply because I had decided at some point that they were true—based on no evidence whatsoever. To realize that I retained beliefs simply because they had been taught to me over and over again stung to the core. I couldn’t imagine life without those beliefs. It took a long time to lay them down and walk forward, even though they caused unfounded guilt, stagnation, confusion, and more. When I finally moved on, I discovered more glorious realities and ideas that I ever could imagine. It takes great faith to leave a kind of faith sometimes.

This same notion applies to former ideas I’ve had about food (good/bad, scary/safe), about what it meant to be a good employee or person, and about all sorts of tasks I’ve had assigned to me on the job or given to me in everyday life.

Oftentimes, when I feel worn down or bored, I discover that I have been striving for perfection in some area of my life. That eternally fruitless quest for an ideal always leads to never-ending projects, feelings, and beliefs that harm me and keep me from doing things I enjoy. Endless pursuits distract me and prevent the growth I truly want.

In those instances, I have to give up. I have to stop fighting the uncomfortable feelings. I have to give up trying to change an unchangeable situation. I have to let go of ideas that bring me supposed comfort but end in pain.

This means I may end up crying for hours in my apartment. I may have to take deep breaths to make it through a tedious or triggering meeting. I may have to admit that I don’t believe what I used to. All of these actions place me square in the middle of a liminal space—a space between, where I have left something behind but have not yet found the new.

For instance, I finally stop moving long enough to feel sad or disgruntled, and then I have to piece together exactly what provoked that emotion. I may even have to formulate an action to satisfy the feelings. I may be just need to accept my tears.

Breathing deeply during a meeting may open up space for me to examine exactly what is making me so uncomfortable. Do I need to say something? Not say something? Work on resentments toward another person? Is it simply that my body needs food or a pit stop?

Leaving old beliefs behind may mean uncertainty about what I believe. To live in that space is to live without explanations, without reasons. This can be hard for know-it-alls like me who appreciate pat statements and decisiveness.

In all of these situations, I give in. I give up something. I let go. I surrender.

However, in all of these situations, I don’t give in. I keep walking. I keep investigating. I keep living.

I give up an old way of living but do not give up living altogether. That is my truth for the day.

Space for Change

Let’s take a minute to acknowledge ourselves exactly where we are and as we are. Take a breath and accept that. Now, revel in it; realize that we are where we are for a reason and that we are all connected to each other.

Now, let’s look objectively (as objectively as possible) at our lives and the patterns in them. What do we keep doing that we don’t like? What are we doing that we do like? Are there things we want to change? And are we ready to change them?

I used to ignore that last question. My degree of readiness didn’t matter. If something needed changing, I required myself to change it ASAP. If I ended up not changing or realizing that I was incapable of change in that instance, I beat myself up. And if I did manage to change myself or the situation, but the result did not live up to my expectations, I gave myself a mental lashing for that, too.

Of course, my actions and changes rarely met the standard I had set, resulting in a perpetual cycle of shame. Today, I am starting to look at things differently.

I have been taught over the last few years to look at myself and my life without judgment. The way I am now is the way I am meant to be. Sure, future choices can move me in different directions, but the forces that brought me to where I am deserve to be acknowledged. All of my perceived flaws, all the hang-ups, the confusion, the circumstances beyond my control, and also the successes and good fortune, need to be appreciated if I want to see myself as a whole human being.

Once I have assessed these portions of myself and this life, I can understand where I am rather than judge it. Only then can I see if I am ready to change or not. By respecting my feelings, I can allow myself to hang back and not change now and then, especially when I’m not quite sure exactly what action to take. I must ask myself why I think I need to change and see whether my answer comes from a loving place or old, misguided beliefs that still hang around in my brain.

The greatest tool I have found in catalyzing change has come to light during the moments when I think I need to change but have a stubborn part of me that doesn’t want to. This emotional situation will often confuse me, and I begin wondering why I don’t do the things I clearly want to do. Why does a part of me hold back the rest of me that wants to grow?

The key to these moments is asking for willingness to change. I also see this as asking for a space to open up that will allow change to come. I don’t have to enact the change. Perhaps my divided desires indicate that I shouldn’t be the actor. Rather, I need to position myself as a vessel for change.

When I feel stuck, I can ask for a space to be opened up inside of me where innovative ideas can form, new desires can develop, and external change can creep in. Sometimes, the answer to this request comes as an unexpectedly free time slot on my schedule. Other times, it’s a person or thing that shows me a new perspective or way of being. And still other times, my desires quite literally change on their own in time, without me doing anything but asking.

We all wish we did certain things better, but why not seek to understand the reasons behind our current patterns before attempting to change? Perhaps where we think we want to be isn’t where we are headed at all. Instead of continually determining to enact change on ourselves and the world around us, we need to invite change in from time to time.

Out of Whack

Can you remember times in your life when the universe seemed to align—when the world outside, the world inside, your body, and your desires all walked together in synchronicity? Now is not one of those times. Not for me.

It feels as though the world is handing me things faster than I can take them while my body aches for rest and my heart wants everything and nothing at the same time. When a few spare moments float to the surface, I like to sit and be quiet, asking for some direction, some peace about life. The truth is, I prefer a slower pace. When things move so quickly that I can practically feel the breeze their momentum creates, it’s time to take a step back. When my to-do lists grow longer and more complicated, I have to throw them away. I have to trust that the important things will rise to the surface.

However, this has always been difficult for me. Especially now, I genuinely want to accomplish every single task and aspiration I’ve noted on colored post-its and affixed to my coffee table/work area. So many exciting opportunities, interests, and burgeoning abilities to choose from. Can I find a happy medium between throwing in the towel and pursing these line items to the point of overwhelming my mind, body, and schedule?

The key is doing one thing at a time and remembering the downside of multi-tasking. If I’m doing three things at once, I’m doing nothing as well as I could. It’s often more efficient to tackle one thing at a time because my mind can fully focus on the task at hand and complete it far more quickly. I can apply this to small things (eating, answering emails, cleaning, and doing work for my job) as well as to the pursuit of large-scale goals.

For instance, I can decide to work on my website a little bit tonight. I don’t have to decide what my entire online package will be. I can just work on a single page tonight. If that’s too vague or too much, I can decide to exclusively find the images I’m going to use on a few pages and upload them. Instead of thinking about the friends/contacts/mentees/associates I need to call as a giant entity I care so much about and can so easily let down, I can decide to reply to one email or make one outreach call. Simplification is often key for me.

But still, my body, mind, and outside world feel all out of kilter. What does my soul think? Can it possibly draw these disparate pieces together? Can slowing down fix this issue? Perhaps not. I am learning so much in so many areas; maybe none of these parts of me know quite how to continue operating. I certainly can’t be the person I was before I gained the knowledge I’m now gaining. I can’t make the world revert back to how it was before I had responsibilities, opportunities, or various hardships. I must start walking from this point, even if everything else is out of step at first.

So I guess the essential truth here is to take one step at a time, in whatever I encounter or go through, in any area of life. Just keep stepping. And I guarantee that I will also be lying down, closing my eyes, and crying out for guidance in the stillness.

Magic Bubbles

“Chef! Chef!” my neighbor’s granddaughter Alexa cries. She can’t quite say my name, and Chef is as close to Michelle as she’s ever heard. “The bubbles!”

Alexa blows a stream of bubbles from the plastic wand her grandmother holds and chases them to the other end of the courtyard. Standing in the empty space where the bubbles floated and popped, she calls, “Come back! Come back!” Over and over, the bubbles are blown and followed by her futile request.

~

Something in this scene warms my heart. Since childhood, I have never stopped crying out for the bubbles to return. When magic comes into my life and fades, I stand in the vacant space and beg it to reappear. Those sparks of magic sustain me but also keep me wanting more.

Nonetheless, watching Alexa chase the bubbles reminds me of magic’s everpresence. If I look for it with earnest patience, magic reveals itself. Furthermore, I am free to grieve when it passes and begin looking for it to emerge in new, unexpected clothing.

~

It starts to rain, and her grandmother asks if she’d like to come inside. “No,” Alexa replies. She prefers to stand in the grass and feel the magic run down her skin.

Inspiration Overload

I have inspiration overload. I took a weekend getaway to retreat and to participate in a recovery workshop led by Anita Johnston, an eating disorder specialist who uses (and teaches others to use) myth and metaphor to “decode” eating disorders and other issues. Sitting in circles of women all weekend, all of whom had come together from various places in diverse settings to seek a higher guidance truly invigorated and enlivened me. My heart sings even now!

I learned a great deal and am longing to share it with you all, but I honestly feel completely stymied. It’s time to sit back and take it all in, letting it soak through my skin and into my heart. Once I have fully felt all that I have learned, it can pour through me and be useful to others.

I do, however, feel compelled to recommend Nia movement classes and Anita Johnston’s book Eating in the Light of the Moon. Through free, judgment-free movement and reflection on the symbolic elements of our thoughts and lives, our soul, mind, and body unite in effective communication. The mind can serve the soul as a helper in navigating the logistics of the world we live in. The mind doesn’t have to rule us or make all our decisions. Our soul is who we are, and it speaks through our bodies.

By getting in touch with our bodies, we can access truth about our souls that our minds sometimes cover up with pesky worries, thoughts, and, at times, logic. We need our bodies and metaphor to puzzle through things that our mind can’t explain.

This weekend, I stayed at The Crossings in Austin, a wonderful spiritual retreat location that I recommend to anyone needing reflective time in nature. It provided the perfect mix of the natural world and a cozy room to sleep in at night. The wellness center, complete with all sorts of amazing services for body and spirit (from massages and facials to chakra alignment and spiritual guidance sessions), certainly helped as well. It was the ideal atmosphere (at least for someone like me) for quiet reflection and total permission to explore and examine in safety. I could choose to take classes, socialize, or spend time alone. And the atmosphere encouraged me to stretch the boundaries of what I could do to open my heart and move forward (or inward) in my journey.

All that said, I entered the weekend with some expectation of rest. However, it did not turn out that way at all. Once on my way to Austin, I felt drawn to participate in so many things. Time escaped me, and I found myself learning and going and moving and doing so much that I can still hardly keep it all straight. In an attempt to align my thoughts, I made a list of all the things I want to pursue now that I’m home. It’s long. Long.

Okay, so I did not receive the kind of clarity I wanted. The trip even extended my already lengthy list of aspirations. Perhaps I gained more questions than answers, but that could be a good thing. I like to think that I have gained a greater variety of questions to ask, and that’s a crucial step. Now, I can embark upon the task of exercising my mind in new areas as I answer them. It’s time to slow down, here in my everyday world. I may even take days off of work in the near future and NOT go somewhere so that I can allow the truths that have been imparted to rise to the surface.

Although I may not have returned equipped with a more straightforward list of to-dos, I do feel a greater sense of overall purpose. I see that I could lead groups of women in growth, even as imperfect as I am. I want to use my gifts with others. I see my skills as a friend-maker and as a thoughtful introvert. I see my strengths more clearly, and I see how I can use them. Now, the task is getting all this knowledge out into the world.

Do I start speaking at events tomorrow? Do I work more deliberately on a book? Do I put more effort into the support group I’m trying to form here in Houston? Do I initiate regular gatherings of my female friends? What do I do!?

For today, I answer, “Rest, Michelle.” As much as I ever do, I will let it all sink in. Part of what I see is my reluctance to rest. During the moments when I was expressly given permission to drop everything and lie down (physically or figuratively) this weekend, I noted the power of sitting still and simply allowing thoughts to come. Once worry about the next move is removed, space is created for the growth of truly actionable ideas or a greater sense of self that will walk alongside me after I have broken the stillness and returned to the busyness of life.

Of course, I can’t leave off without mentioning nature… Oh, glorious nature! I had many memories of hiking with my grandfather this weekend. It felt so similar, and I was able to access regions of myself I hadn’t in a long time, regions that also happen to be connected with food and the way I currently prioritize my time. Right now, I am considering nature and its connection to my personal nature.

In any case, I can end there. Consider this post permission to sit back, relax, and let whatever you’ve been learning lately to permeate your soul. Once you’ve soaked it all up, you’ll be able to stand and walk into the world, the new discoveries oozing out of you without any effort—even without making a list of all the things you want to do with those discoveries! Enlightenment cannot help but spread.

Simple and Sweet

I recently wrote a simple, happy song called “Colors of You.” Something in me loves a simple, breezy song. I admire its sweetness because so few of my songs have that quality. I tend toward the intense ballad, which I enjoy equally, but those few lighthearted pieces are treasures in my heart.

This extends to life. I am attracted to high-drama, bold color, and intensity. I try to create these things and live within them. But when I happen upon a simple moment with just the right feeling and all the right colors, I smile and relax. I am relaxing right now, as the sun shines through my window and I have no pressing business to attend to until I return to work next Monday. Glorious.

This life is beautiful and precious. I don’t think any gems are wasted, even if I’m the only one here experiencing them. Perhaps someone else out there is experiencing a charmed moment, too, and in a way, we share it together. That makes my heart smile.

See, I’m as cheesy as it gets… and I’m owning it now. For years, I dismissed the lighter part of me ‑ the delicate, girly, Disney-feature-film (if you will) part of me. Now, I like and appreciate her. Cynicism gets you places, but not everywhere. The same can be said for the more rainbow-esque part of me. I’m glad to embrace both elements now.

Anyway, I wish you all 365 more jewel-like days in 2009. Hopefully, it will be the best year yet! For my part, I’m certain it will be. Sure, parts will smell like the used Trans Am of a 16-year-old boy without enough money or sense to purchase deodorant. But other parts will be fresh as a daisy! Hope it’s filled with whatever makes you happy (and if that’s stinky teenage boys, more power to you, as long as we’re in legal territory…).

Happy New Year!

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Oh, and it has come to my attention that more than one reader out there is restraining him/herself from commenting or emailing me after digesting my posts. Just wanted to say, feel free to comment or contact at any time! If people don’t comment because no one else does, then the ball never starts rolling. And even if it never starts rolling, I enjoy the few comments I do get, whether online or in person. Thanks to everyone! I appreciate you all more than you can know :)

Trust the Instinct

Somewhere along the way, I picked up the notion that I should second-guess every inclination. However, life as of late has repeatedly confirmed the validity of my natural instincts. So - why do I resist trusting myself?

It’s difficult to believe in something without outside confirmation. I long for someone or something else to say, “Yes, Michelle, that is the best course of action,” no matter how strongly I already feel that sentiment. How will I know who to trust, what career path to go down, where to live, which shirt to wear, or whether I should run my errands before or after lunch?

Despite my doubts, I have a fantastic track record of predicting which friendships I will want to deepen after only a couple of meetings. I also seem to finish tasks that need to be accomplished on time, without too much stress… except during the process of deciding which task to take on first. I am now trying to remember that, just as I am now attune to when I am hungry and typically what I am hungry for, I know the best actions to take or if there are multiple, equally beneficial courses that present themselves during the day. Somewhere inside me, I contain this wisdom.

Trusting that gift of wisdom is a process. I am continually learning to discern between ego-powered impulse and true, universal intuition. When peace rests beneath the instinct, it’s usually worth following.

Even if I mess up and follow a course that I wish I hadn’t, life has never ended. I approach things with an open, true heart, and if I make a mistake, it can’t keep me down for long. I simply learn. I make the choice and move on. And I must say, Little Miss Indecisive is making some big strides. Who knew I would ever believe that there are no mistakes? Truly.

Now that I trust instinct, I find that my life follows a miraculous sort of rhythm. I end up synching with other people’s schedules and having time for everything. I watch the lives of people who agonize far less about daily decisions and take note of those who seem in tune with something greater. It is possible to follow a natural course, not over-think things, and still live a successful life (though it might not be successful in the way I initially envisioned it).

Growing up, I never conceived that a person could excel and enjoy life without pre-plotting every step. Letting go of my compulsive need to plan and control is difficult, but I’m learning firsthand how healthy and freeing it is to let life take its course rather than remaining chained to the construction of personal forecasts and predictions. If I spend all my time building nets to catch myself in case I should fall, I have no time left to climb the ladders and take the leaps that make living a worthwhile adventure.

Here’s to trusting myself to know when to make healthy preparations and when to release my fears and simply LIVE.

Points on a Pendulum's Path

Life is ebb and flow, contraction and stretching, pulling in and pushing out. It's many different forces all at once, and somehow we balance in the midst of all of them. At least, that's the goal.

I can go too far. I can stay too safe. I am a pendulum swinging sometimes, one moment in perfect rhythm, another moment at startling extremes. But everything is allowed.

How would I know what it feels like to feel steady if I didn't also know what it feels like to be out of synch? How would I know happiness without sadness or loneliness without social overwhelment. Hitting the extremes reminds me that the middle is excellent, if at times boring. It's a trade-off of sorts: live at the extremes for excitement and precarious or frightening emotions, or live in the middle for solidarity of mind but also eventual boredom. When the boredom hits, I'm out the door, stretching again.

For quite some time, I believed that one way had to be better than another or that I had to choose how I wanted to live my life. Was I the kind of person who wanted to live an exciting, spontaneous life full of fun, adventure, and ripped-to-shreds emotions? Or was I the type to choose a quiet life, reading and calm, resting in the cradle of nature and thought? Both options still appeal to me.

However, now, instead of choosing one or the other, I am beginning to see that I can choose both - and everything in the middle.

At times, I feel wild and crazy and want to go-go-go. I shift into social overdrive, my performance gear kicks in, and I fly high for days. Other times, I want the world to completely stop and suck me into a black hole. I barely leave my house. I may try to do music; I may go to the grocery store. In that space, I frequently feel sad for a while...and WANT to feel sad. Letting sorrow take over occasionally rejuvenates my spirit and enables me to leave my house with a smile on my face once more, or to stay in my house but be able to laugh with more joy than ever.

Other times, I feel the peace of resting in the middle. It will seem as though I have the right amount of social engagement and the right amount of alone time. I find a balance between work, exercise, thinking, music, and just being myself. I accept all things and feel incredibly loving.

In each of these states, I wonder if I should perhaps be another way. Do I need more alone time? Am I not going out enough? Am I getting bored with this "balanced living"?

Truth is, each state works for me in some way - and typically also works against me. None of them are all good or all bad. They are simply points along the trajectory of my pendulum, and I can embrace them all without fear that I am not doing enough.

I'm still learning this, learning to trust that I can enjoy my propensities in each individual moment and also that I will eventually have different propensities. Although it sometimes feels like I will be sad and socially reluctant forever, that stage has always passed, and I have entered many an extroverted stint. Perhaps my introverted phases last longer or are more numerous, but I am learning that this is just me. I like that.

I also regularly return to balance after toying with the extremes, slowly seeing that the middle is not necessarily better than the edges. The extremes teach me. The state of balance is where I enjoy the fruits of those lessons. I'm still learning. I'm still confused. I still distrust myself. But I am learning to love others and myself for all the different ways we think and feel at various points in our lives. None of us is one way all the time.

Knowing myself means, in part, knowing that one, static definition of me cannot encompass the many phases that make up who I am. I never stop growing. Forward is the only direction (even though it feels like backwards sometimes). And the essential nature of humanity defies permanent labels.

Hooray for change and acceptance!