Unstuffing

Why do we stuff our lives with so much?  What holes are we trying to fill? Or maybe I should ask why do I stuff my life with so much? 

It's a reaction to a feeling of scarcity I've carried with me for as long as I can remember. It's why I like to save things.  It's why I like to keep in touch with friends for years after our relationships stopped being very meaningful. I don't like to lose things. I mistakenly think that if I let something go, nothing will fill the void.

But something always fills the void.  Something always comes in and fills my life with newness when I let go of the old.  I have to be willing to release things or say no to them from the start.

Lately, too much has been swooping in, and I've been accepting far too much of it. I have to unpack my life.  Much like when I stuff my body with food, if I stuff my life with commitments and activities, I feel sick, tired, and sad.

At first, being incredibly busy feels great, especially when everything I'm doing are things I love. It's hard to say no when the opportunities are all so great. Nevertheless, too much of anything does not equal happiness.  Too much is usually, well, too much.

Why am I becoming more aware of this tendency to stuff?  Meditation. During meditation, I get an acute sense of what it feels like to exist without worry, to not have to do anything. In those moments, I know down deep that I will be okay, even if I achieve nothing or win nothing. Most of the time, I am not worry-free throughout my entire meditation, but in those pockets of serenity, I understand what it means to let go.

Only now, at age 30, am I can beginning to understand letting go at a deeper level.  I barely got to know it as a concrete thing in my 20s.  Before age 26, it was a mythical idea.  Now, I see the deeper necessity of letting go. 

After living on earth long enough (I guess 30 is long enough), we accumulate things and we start choosing what to save. People like me want to hold onto everything, to go back, to keep the old for the future. Everything seems equally meaningful. But in actuality, it's healthiest to release it all and to move forward afresh. It's also healthy to know when my life has hit capacity and to say no to new commitments and things at those times.

Today, I commit to choosing things for my calendar based on my values, not on my fear of not having or being or doing enough. I can make choices that align with what I want to be and what truly matters—not other people, not the world's standards, but instead, my values.

Will you clear you calendar with me?

High Water

It's stormy outside in Houston today. I was trying to get from a hair appointment to a frozen yogurt shop when I encountered a stretch of deep water.  I drive a tiny hatchback, and after seeing a Jeep and a Chevy Blazer struggle through the water, I knew I couldn't make it.  I stopped, threw on my reverse lights, and the person behind me backed up so that I could escape.  Immediately after that, I saw two or three cars just as small as mine try to make it through the water.  All three bailed out halfway through.  It was a near-disastrous mess.

As I watched a Nissan Versa chugging through water almost higher than its tires, I couldn't help but sympathize. Much of the time, I feel like a tiny car surrounded by water. I'm rolling farther and farther into the rising current, not knowing how deep it might get. Still, I roll forward, water splashing. The water is so impermanent but somehow also so powerful. Puddles that start small grow more quickly than I expect.

That's what my to-do list feels like sometimes. Maybe that's what my life feels like sometimes.  There's so much I want to do — an endless list of tasks that slowly rises up around me, sloshing up on my windows, slowing down my eager wheels.  I'm going through a music business coaching program right now, and ideas for what I need to do to grow my business and my brand are flowing. But my energy level doesn't flow at quite the same rate…

I don't have the energy to implement all these ideas.  It's not that I simply won't get to all of it now.  It's that I probably will never get to some of it.

That's where prioritization comes in.  Only prioritization can save me from the rising water.

I got quiet with myself today and decided on two things I could do this weekend. I can write this blog, and I can work on the paperwork to register my new songs with ASCAP. Two things.

This seemed brilliant.  But then I promptly sat down at the computer and chose to update the auto-responses to my contact forms and mailing list sign-ups instead. Sure, I accomplished something, but not what I set out to do.

I've decided that this is okay, and it simply means that I need to investigate what keeps me from doing the other two things on my list.

After some examination, the difference is in the perceived complexity of the tasks. Updating auto-responses involves more editing than writing (less pressure), and the dozen different auto-responses I need to edit are all short and fairly simple to update. The task as a whole is easily broken down into its component parts.

In contrast, I had done no work to break down the steps required to do my two higher-priority tasks. I knew I had to do a little more pre-work before I could tackle them.   

In reality, writing a blog entry is no big deal. I know how that goes:  I write it, leave it for a while, come back and edit it, post it, and then send out an email notice.  Pretty basic. I'm doing it now.  I'm clearly accomplishing at least the biggest part of that task: the writing.

The ASCAP publishing task, however, was more mysterious because it involved some research and many as yet undefined tasks.  I wasn't sure how long it would take me, so of course, I was avoiding it. I'm less familiar with publishing.  As a solution, I decided that I would work on it for a maximum of one hour.  I could set a timer.  One hour. 

With unclear tasks that I can't seem to start, this is a great strategy.  It's not that I have to finish the task.  I just need to work on it for a short while.

I believe in SARK's concept of the "micro movement."  Sometimes, full steps are too big.  We need to break them down to the micro-level.  I can get on the ASCAP website.  I can look at the tools.  I can fill out something, ANYTHING.  But I don't have to do it for more than an hour.  I can even limit my time to 20 minutes if I need to.  It's all about inventing ways to allow myself to start a task.  I clear the way instead of forcing myself to do it.

Now that I've given some actual thought to what I have to do instead of just writing line items on a to-do list without further thought, I feel like I can get these two tasks done.  I don't feel like a tiny car trying to muddle through high water anymore. I have choices.

Maybe some people learned these skills early in life.  Somehow, I missed them.  I have the "I must get everything done and get it done NOW" gene.  Part of recovery — and life — is about finding balance within that tendency.

If I ever feel this way again (which I can guarantee I will), I can do exactly what I did today: back up and go down a different street, a street with only an inch or two of water rather than a few feet. I back up, look at the tasks I have to do, and then I break it down into the smaller steps that can get me where I want to go.

Success! And no flooded engine.

~

Update: Between the time I wrote the first draft of this blog and when I published it, I completed my publishing tasks.  I'm totally done — for now.  There are a few more things I need to do to get set up, but this was a major step. It was so easy once I started getting into it.  I'm going to use the back-up and detour technique the next time I get stuck on a task I don't want to do.

Peace in Chaos

Chaos. Christmas = chaos. But for the moment, the chaos is outside of me and does not invade my personal space of peace. Last night, however, I felt chaotic inside.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about chaos. Daily, I’m assaulted by thoughts – tons, sometimes repetitive. Many would suggest that this condition could be remedied with medication. In fact, I am finally to the point where I am considering it. I have done so much self-exploration and practice many techniques, but the sheet number and repetitive/distracting nature of the thoughts is bothersome beyond compare.

Christmas festivities in my family typically usher in a reign of chaos. One of my primary objectives during the holidays is to maintain a state of peace within, even though I am usually surrounded by a flurry of activity and distraction. This year, the holidays truly reflect what I have been feeling inside.

I'm longing for a place to relax and settle, to give my full attention to the things I’m interested in. I have so many thoughts, so many creative ideas, but I seem to lack the ability to focus enough to turn those thoughts into anything fruitful. This is the current challenge.

I want to live in the moment, but it’s tiring to be dragged from one thought to the next. I want to grip one idea long enough to follow it through.

For now, though, my main objective is to nurture the peace inside myself. Lots of activity, lots of holiday love, but it can leave me lost. I have to take breaks to stand outside, get some quiet, tap into what I want, and assert my wants and needs. I cannot be embarrassed to do what is right for me, even if it is not like what everyone else is doing. If I need alone time, I need to take it. If I need to exercise, I can. If I need to sit still and rest, I can. I can sleep as late as I need, stay home if I need to skip out on a group activity, or work on things that are important to me even if I think people will call me strange. Usually, no one cares, and everyone is following their own yens, too. It’s up to me to keep the peace inside.

Even here, with my family, without a proper bedroom, on a weekend when I might rather be home, I am doing well. I have been listening to the truths I know and allowing my own leanings today. Yesterday was a different story. I felt trapped and unsure. Events triggered memories of holidays past and brought up anger and anxiety that I didn’t even recognize. Instead of listening to myself and seeing what was happening, I ate to get through the evening. I used food as a distraction and a crutch to make my way through Christmas Eve activities.

Today, I got up and made a new choice. I took time to check in with myself last night and woke up this morning more centered and aware of what I want. I can appreciate the love and enjoy myself without automatically linking celebration to getting what I want food-wise. I have to consciously make the effort.

Today, because I’m more aware of what I want and have taken steps to get it, I can embrace the love around me so much more. I am much more present and able to focus in the midst of the craziness that is my family holiday.

I’m enjoying Christmas now, and I’m also practicing the focused attention I’ve been longing for. Despite rapid-fire thoughts and constant activity around me, I am writing this blog. That’s a feat in itself.

And as an apology for not having posted in many weeks, I’m including a recent recording. Chris Longwood and I were in the studio at Sugar Hill last weekend, where I did several piano recordings along with some more on the guitar. I’m continuing to tweak and am glad to finally share my songs with a larger audience. More gigs to come! And more peace…

Here I Am
http://sites.google.com/site/michellecowandownloads/downloadables/04HereIAm.mp3?attredirects=0&d=1

Chasing Flies

I’m chasing a fly. Stupid fly, buzzing and rustling my blinds and spreading its who-knows-what germs all around. That tiny hole in my window screen gave him just the space he needed to break in. Seriously, get lost!

Sometimes, in life, I feel like I’m chasing flies. Little annoyances that aren’t really doing anything to hurt me somehow attract my complete focus. I can ignore them for a while, but before I know it, I can hear nothing but their buzzing. At that point, nothing else matters but swatting the fly or shooing it out the door.

I stop doing whatever task I’m involved with to stand up and hunt down the fly. Is this really a good thing? Would life be better if I could sustain focus on one goal at a time? Are all the germs or bad things I imagine these annoyances are bringing not really so dangerous as I imagine? Perhaps the fly would go away on its own if I simply ignored it and continued the task at hand.

I get frustrated when little things take up more of my time than necessary. Chasing down the fly seems like a simple enough task, especially if I’m in an enclosed place. Surely it won’t take more than a minute or two to swat it or at least get it out the open door. But it always takes longer. The creature eludes me; I smack it with a notebook, and somehow it flies away, unscathed. The fly sucks the time away.

I don’t want these trivial tasks or bothers to consume my days and preoccupy my mind. This means learning to let thoughts come and go as they may without clinging to them, without letting them penetrate the forefront of my thoughts when I want to focus on something else.

Meditation helps with this practice immensely. If I can sit for fifteen or twenty minutes and think a million thoughts without acting on them during a meditation session, I can do it when trying to blog or work or write a song.

This also means trusting myself to remember those “important” thoughts when I do have the time or mental space to do so. If I am working on a particular task, I don’t have to immediately stand up and pay my bills or do the laundry just because a thought that I should do those things floats by. I can remind myself of what I’m working on now and trust that I will accomplish to-dos that need to be done at a later time. I can trust myself to remember and follow through later.

Trust in myself is key. If I don’t trust myself to do things that need to be done, I’ll spend all day chasing flies instead of sitting down and doing work I am truly passionate about. Distractions need not become full-time occupations.

I must learn that I can choose not to act on obsessive thoughts and that I can trust myself to succeed at this life thing. I can let the flies buzz until I’m finished writing/playing/preparing; then, if they are still around, I’ll have plenty of time to shoo them out the door.

No electricity breeds creativity...and exhaustion...

I like to think I'm strong, that I can make it through anything. But hurricane aftermath? That might be my breaking point.

Suffice it to say that I am filled with immense gratitude. My water and power came back on Sunday afternoon. And although my cell phone drowned in a flooded street and my car smells like a swamp, I am blessed with an absence of the incredible difficulties so many people I know are facing.

Still, the backed up traffic brings me to tears. The shortened grocery store hours and long gas station lines make me frantic. Naturally, my shelves were fully stocked before the hurricane, and I continue on without need of anything. But everything has been thrown off, and that seems to be enough for me to break down.

However, for someone who struggles with change and for whom acclimation comes slowly, I did quite well during the storm. Years of awareness surrounding my trouble with non-routine times have made me quite an expert in preparation and coping. I was ready for the storm, and I continue to provide for my needs and those of people who come across my path. Good stuff.

To brag or not to brag? Brag! I made a stupendous apple crisp after the storm once I discovered that the ice cream shop across from my apartment had opened for business. (Baked desserts are only half-complete without a creamy, melt-a-licious topping.) The family who owns the shop still has no power at their house. No wonder they chose to go to work instead of roast at home!

Baking the dessert, talking to the shop owner's family, coming up with a fun way to kill a few hours... That little part of my week illustrates the things I find most excellent about disaster: people get to know one another and people discover their own creative coping skills. I now know more of my neighbors than I ever thought possible. I asked for help in tough circumstances and received it! I discovered that I have a knack for creating fabulous meals from only canned items. I also realized how blessed I am to enjoy reading and other non-electric-dependent activities. I have also learned how to strike up conversations with almost anyone. During the hurricane, my neighbors and I did it because we were bored. Now, I do it because I'm curious.

I love watching people who are able to handle discomfort well. Several folks at my office still without power are chugging along remarkably well. They take it step by step and simply do the next thing that needs to be done. Inconvenience leads to simplification. Just do the next thing.

In the midst of it all, I'm fine. Still writing music. Still planning on doing the half-Ironman (although I must confess that the training for that ranks very low on my list of priorities at the moment). Still calling friends, going to work, and getting outside and enjoying. I still have my endless list of to-dos, but I remain thankful that cleaning up a yard full of tree limbs or salvaging the contents of a flooded house do not count among my concerns.

Gratitude for sure. This life is a miracle, moment by moment.