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.

New Website

I'm working on putting together a new website. For now, I'm trying out a Wix flash site. And since I'm super-cheap, I'm using the free version that still has the Wix ads on it. Hey, I want to test drive before I commit.

Anyway, take a look and let me know what you think either by commenting here or sending an email from the contact page of the new site.

Here it is!
www.wix.com/Mickster7/Michelle-Cowan

Get It Out!

When you need to say something, say it! If something is bottled up inside, you have to get it out. Get it out somehow, even if only by speaking to the wind. If it’s something you long to say to someone else but just can’t, you don’t have to say it to his or her face. You can write it down or have a pretend conversation right there, in your room, in your car, alone. Imagine the reaction if you want. You don’t have to, though. Just speak your peace.

Writing is exceptionally helpful for me. It helps structure my thoughts in a way that makes more sense or is less overwhelming to me. Oftentimes, I feel as though I’m having a thousand thoughts, but when I write them down, they really only amount to four or five.

The danger of my mind is its tendency to loop. Although most of my thoughts are ones I can allow to pass without action, some rise to the surface repeatedly. These are ones that demand expression. If I refuse to recognize or release those thoughts, they remain near the forefront of my consciousness where they travel merry-go-round style until I feel dizzy and confused. A couple of resentments, a brilliant idea or plan, and a few repressed feelings start seeming like an ominous cloud of too-much.

In fact, this loop effect is the basis for my belief (and the opinion of others) that I “think too much.” I do think too much, but the key to resolving this issue is that the thinking often traverses the same territory./ I’m not thinking a multitude of thoughts necessarily, just the same ones over and over, because I have not done anything with them. I experience no freedom until I write them down, sing them out, talk aloud, or confront another individual.

Too many brilliant thoughts have failed to see the light of day because people were afraid others might judge them or think they were weird for having those thoughts. Many intelligent folks are afraid of what actions they may have to take if they voice their ideas. Once something is out in the open, it could go anywhere—in theory.

I’m here to say that step one is to tell your ideas to yourself. Gauge how comfortable you are with the thought and see if you are satisfied leaving it within the confines of your own space. If you are, the insanity may be over.

However, if you still don’t feel completely liberated, it may be time to share your thoughts with another person. (Some prefer to talk to a pet first, but that’s a matter of preference.) This step always brings a new perspective and usually a calm to the situation. Other people’s opinions are often the most feared element of all. To conquer that fear usually means the world—and either ends the painful thought cycle or sparks new actions.

Sometimes, before sharing with someone else, further analysis or organization of the thought is required. I have thoughts so convoluted that I have to turn them into stories or lists. Many of my ideas evolve into songs. People often understand my thoughts much better when release them to the world in a more creative form. They get lost if I just ramble. What’s more—the process of crafting the thought’s expression usually ends the torment of the thought merry-go-round all by itself.

Nonetheless, don’t forget that some thoughts JUST NEED OUT. Sometimes, your job is to say what you feel in the moment. As I have learned to do this, I feel freer and freer. I am more myself. Yes, occasionally, unintentionally offensive things are said or I am completely misunderstood. But I rarely regret speaking my truth in an authentic way.

Like I said in a previous post, I’m learning and practicing new, more tactful ways to put things. The core of the effort is not to delay the speaking of my mind, but to improve my ability to state personal thoughts or feelings in the moment using a means of expression that most accurately conveys my true intention and idea to the listener. I want to get it out but also be understood.

Right now, my moment is here, on my own. I think I have some journaling to do… And then maybe a person to call…

Sample from Sugar Hill

This morning, I rocked out at Sugar Hill Studios here in Houston, where Chris Longwood recorded eight original songs of mine. I went prepared to do four songs, but we ended up recording live takes instead of isolating vocals and instrumentation. We wrapped up much earlier than expected and with more to take away than I imagined.

I'm happy with the results we achieved in very little time. It's amazing what high-quality equipment can do! (Along with being well-rehearsed beforehand...) Have a listen:

She's Lovely
http://sites.google.com/site/michellecowandownloads/downloadables/01She%27sLovely.mp3?attredirects=0

I hope to build on the tracks we made today, adding harmonies, other instruments, and percussion. Now that I leaped over the hump of my initial anxiety, I feel much more hopeful about creating an album one day in the very near future. I encourage everyone out there to risk doing things you feel inexperienced at. What you learn is worth feeling stupid for a little while.

I seem to expect myself to be an expert in all realms of music, but I'm not. Hiring expertise and remaining teachable proved to be more than worth it.

When Words Are the Problem

You’d think that, as a writer, I would say, “Words are the solution!” But no. Sometimes—in fact, most of the time—they are the problem.

We have all of these words—all this language—and yet, how many of us actually manage to say what we mean? History is fraught with misunderstandings, he-said-she-said, bogus interpretations, poor phrasing, and flat-out carelessness. Think Shakespeare, think Jane Austen, think Three’s Company.

How many times has the person you’re speaking with heard things you never said? And how many times has adding more words only made a bigger mess?

We communicate via so many channels all of the time. People read body language, pauses between words, eye flickers. We can move and touch each other in ways that communicate infinitely more than twelve pages of writing ever could. Despite the infinite communicative capacity of our bodies, we find ourselves in a world centered on words.

Phones remove faces from conversation; texting goes even further. We have to convey personality with the words and symbols we choose, which often provides an inaccurate reflection of the true emotions at play. We give up very few secrets; whereas, in person, the truth is often easier to detect.

Thank goodness for video on the internet, or else the Web could completely collapse into a tangled scrapheap of words, where real people no longer exist, only language and our fitful attempts to inject tone or personality into the figures we type. The internet is a dangerous place for personal communication.

Regardless of our culture’s ever-growing reliance on virtual communication, I have a difficult enough time expressing myself in person—at least in a way that comes across as intended. Am I a linguistic lummox? I feel so rarely heard and so often like the inflictor of unintentional pain. If I waited until I could think of a perfect way to say something, I’d never say anything. So, unfortunately, what comes out of my mouth often lacks the tact and kindness I envision.

Fie you, words! You always get in the way of what I’m trying to say.

Since I thus far have proved myself unable to bring my on-the-spot speech to the level I desire, I am choosing to cultivate other methods of communication. Although I have greatly improved my ability to say what I mean, it is nowhere near where I would like it. I’ve concluded that verbal communication is something that will only improve with time, growth, and experience. By studying language for years, I’ve topped out on any kind of unnatural progress that could be made.

So if you see me dancing about, gesticulating wildly, touching more people, painting more pictures, making more collages, or using more grunts and squeals than words, you’ll know why. A picture’s worth a thousand words? Well, I’ve heard sighs that say twice as many.

Goals

At certain times in life, we devote ourselves to a particular goal. Applying for universities, training for a competition, completing a work project, and dealing with family crises require single-minded determination and commitment. I thrive on that kind of direction. As a task-oriented person, I appreciate anything that requires the outlining of steps and a systematic, wholehearted approach. No distractions. Priorities are clear. The actions that are best rise easily and promptly to the surface.

At other times, however, I feel as though I’m wandering aimlessly. I’m not trying to get into school; I’m not recovering from a trauma of any sort. I’m not called upon to help anyone or join an activist movement. I try to think of goals. I meditate and ask for direction, for desire, for guidance toward an area of focus, but I receive nothing.

I don’t necessarily dislike these times. As long as I feel content, goals mean nothing. I do crave a sense of accomplishment and achievement, and that desire eventually leads me to the adoption of a certain goal. I kind of prefer the quiet happiness of a life well lived. In the last few years, I’ve come face to face with how little “success” really matters.

Despite my semi-“enlightened” viewpoint, I can’t shake the feeling that the world looks down upon such aimlessness. Everyone (including a little part of me) expects me to have a purpose, or at least be striving toward the discovery of that purpose. This gets tough, especially now, as I look back upon many months, months that have turned into years, rather sparsely decorated with goal achievement of any kind.

Then again, I do see some of the goals I reached. To my ego’s dismay, most of those goals have been quite personal and internal, like overcoming fears, learning to love, appreciating the gifts of depression, and many times, just getting through the day. No one sees those. I don’t get paid any money or get many pats on the back for those things. It’s hard to build up that sense of accomplishment with intangibles (no matter how valuable they may be).

Now, I’m 27 years old. I’m considering returning to graduate school, but I don’t know what I want to study. Art history? Curatorial/museum studies? Comparative religion? Anthropology? I’m not sure. Do I want to move? Where? Do I want to change careers? How much effort do I want to put into music? Do I want to pursue it passionately? Do I need to complete the building of my own web site? Do I want to do more freelance editing and writing? How much time should I put into dance? What about my spiritual activities? What do I want to do?

With such a mountain of choices, I can’t think. I can’t pick one. Or rather, I don’t pick one. Instead, I slip in and out of each interest, knowing that if I commit to one, it would flourish. But I feel stymied in the face of decision “Just choose!” I tell myself – yes, in a very demanding tone. Unfortunately, that kind of pressure only makes it more difficult.

How do I escape the pressure from the world and within to strive after a particular goal? If the pressure were released, I have no doubt that my most authentic desires would take hold, and I could pursue something in a directed way.

How?

Focus on now, and focus on the goals I know I have: I want to love as best I can and accept love with grace. I want to bring my true self to the fore in all areas of life and remain honest in a kind way. I want to enjoy each moment to the fullest and share that joy with others. I want to walk through fear.

Those goals feel a little vague to me. Perhaps they need some refining to help me direct my energy. I’ll do that… probably. In the meantime, I see that if I can focus on those credos, I can have a happy life. I can feel accomplished. I can bring light to the world. It’s about affirming to myself that no yardstick that would dare measure me provides any kind of accurate estimate of my worth. It’s enough to simply love and enjoy life.

Still, that desire for accomplishment lingers. Can I trust that focusing on my more eternal goals will lead me toward authentic choices and a satisfying life path? I’m not sure if I even like the idea of a path! With me, the questions never end.

Nonetheless, I advocate choosing. Just choose. I still want to pick something to pursue. I want to love something enough that I’m willing to commit to my choice for more than a day. This skipping around between goals is wearing me down.

Maybe I need to bring my broader life goals back more firmly into consciousness. Maybe instead of asking for direction and looking for an answer in my quiet hours, I can meditate on the goals I already know I have, the truly important goals.

Ah, that sounds satisfying. That sounds like new way I haven’t tried yet. The key always seems to be perspective. Look at the issue in a new way, and the doors can fly open. We shall see. For now, I’m still learning to value the meandering trajectory as much as the beeline.

Miss Independent

What happens when a woman, surrounded by reminders of her strength as an individual and who highly values her sense of independence, realizes that she doesn’t want to be quite so independent anymore?

Answer: A wrestling match.

Two sides of me are wrestling, battling it out. Although independence is one thing everyone can depend on me for, I want something else. I want to share, too. I don’t want to lose my individuality, but I want to experience the joys of merging more with the people I care about. I want to feel engrained in the lives of others, or at least one other person, and for them to feel a part of mine. Perspectives broaden when moments are shared, when visions are exchanged, when authenticity reigns supreme.

I want more of that joy, yet I want to grow in my own way. I don’t want to get caught up solely in the interests of another human being or for people to cling to me and ride my coat tails. I want to branch out freely according to my own path and let my deepest seed spring to life.

But I also want to experience that kind of growth with someone else. I want to get a little wrapped up in the cares and concerns of someone else. I want to tell someone about my journey and hear about hers or his, too. That would broaden me.

So I wrestle. I try to hang on to my free time and try to do things that stretch me while holding the deep desire to be with someone else and participate in life with him or her. I spend time with other people while making sure to assert my own opinions and ask if we can together share the growth experiences I could engage in solo.

Until I find a balance, I’ll feel the tension. There must be tension to build up new parts of me. Until harmony is achieved, I’ll simply be grateful to experience something I haven’t ever really had in my life.

I suddenly want to share my life, in a genuine, actionable way. The notion of sharing a life is no longer, for me, a hypothetical exercise. I honestly desire a kind of merge. I don’t want to jump into foolhardy codependency, but neither do I want to remain at arm’s length. I’ve experienced much of the world alone. What would it be like to experience it with a second set of eyes, or at least with someone to tell the story to at the end of the day?

All Work and No Play...

Hooray for Labor Day! If you are working and are not required to by your place of employment, STOP. Enjoy the day. The to-do list will never be completed; the inbox will never empty. Let it go for one day, please.

I’m not even going to work to think of a “deeper” post. All I’m going to say is that I’m very grateful for friends and family, especially for people who take the time to accept and care about others (including me) just as they are. It feels good to be patiently loved. Thank you.

Energy Use and Disappointment

Some people come into my life, use my energy, and don’t understand that it takes time for me to recover. I need reboot time, and other people seem to be either better at recharging or in less need of it. I wish more people were sensitive to the fact that I need a significant amount of downtime to rest, think my own thoughts, and then reenter the world with a full tank of creative energy.

Right now, I need to focus on embracing my need for rest and not feeling guilty when I have to (or simply want to) turn down social invitations in favor of introspective time. When I am unable to do things I enjoy because my mood or physical condition leads me toward something else I enjoy, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for missing out on personal growth opportunities or fun experiences. And I feel doubly guilty if someone may have been let down by my decision.

This smells a lot like people pleasing to me. I’m trying to please imaginary “perfect Michelle” and everyone else around me instead of listening to my heart, mind, and body. It’s time to give up and be honest with people, admitting what I want and how I feel. I have no choice at this point. I can only be me. I tried for so long to be someone else, but this is, in fact, who I am.

Although I love going out and having a good time, I also need a lot of quiet. Additionally, I want to consciously forgive those who seem to steal my energy so that I can start drawing better boundaries for myself based on what I know I can or want to handle.

It’s a process. When I focus on not “missing out” or not disappointing anyone, I run myself into the ground with constant activity—emotional or physical. After a few complete burnouts, I get the message. It’s time to recharge and reassess my own desires and limits.

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.

Speaking Our Minds

How do we balance the expression of our authentic selves with the desire to be kind to other people? Honesty must be tempered with thoughtfulness if we are to live truly satisfying lives. Sure, I would love to run around saying anything and everything on my mind, but I also value the people around me, especially my friends.

If we err too much in one direction, we say nothing at all or fall into people pleasing. We may say things we don’t mean because we think we know what the other person wants to hear. If we can’t determine what the “appropriate” response should be, then we say nothing at all. I’d say that most people who are out of balance fall into this category. Human beings are built for community and often seek to preserve it even at personal cost.

This can be good. Sometimes, it serves no benefit to irk another person just because we have a differing opinion or we notice something that might irritate that person. But many times, valuable points of view are suppressed out of politeness or fear of rocking the boat or embarrassment. We all have to learn, at some point in our lives, that our individual voices matter. We must step out and say what we are thinking. We must risk hurting another to be honest.

We have to do these things or our personal feelings will stay bottled up inside until there is no room for any more repression. That’s when negative physical and mental conditions surface. It may take psychotherapy or another transformative experience (usually a combination) to move us into a healthier means of expression, where we assert our voices without deliberating too much on the repercussions of others. We can only sweep our side of the road. We cannot control the thoughts or feelings of others. It’s time to speak for ourselves.

However, oftentimes, after that transformative moment when we start learning new ways of expressing ourselves, the formerly repressed person can err too much in the other direction, where we can thoughtlessly speak our minds and ignore the consequences. Of course, there are people who naturally start out at this other end of spectrum, too.

At this end, we say what we feel in the midst of whatever company might be around. We believe in the value of our speech. Healthy self esteem can be at play here, but there is a point at which we can alienate or unintentionally hurt someone else. We may also spend too much time talking without reserving space to hear other perspectives.

Because the power that lies within each human being is a fascinating and exhilarating thing, especially when discovered inside oneself, people can become someone addicted to the rush of adding personal opinions to every conversation. If emerging from a repressed state, self-expression can require such a concerted effort and feel so foreign that an individual may still doubt s/he is expressing her/himself enough, even if that person is really going overboard. Because of this doubt, some cross the line into offense.

To be able to speak one’s mind, the constant worry about other people’s feelings needs to be lessened—but not eliminated. Self-expression should not be restricted simply because we fear we might offend someone. We have no way of knowing what might offend other people. But I believe that there are situations in which we can make educated guesses. The key is slowing down.

I must admit that I am quite familiar with the route from tight-lipped people pleaser to quick tongued attention seeker. I enjoy expressing myself and value my own opinion, but I have to balance this with an appreciation of other people’s expressions and a respect for their points of view. I am likely to say something shocking for mere entertainment value without considering the wounds it could cause in certain members of my audience.

I will never encourage someone to stifle their thoughts and not speak up when they feel like it. But I do advocate slowing down before responding and asking one to three questions before opening one’s mouth:
1. Will what I’m saying probably hurt someone?
2. Will I probably be hurt more by not saying this?
3. Is there a way to say this that will lessen the hurt for both me and the person (or people) this could hurt?

Notice that number one does not read, “Could what I’m saying hurt someone?” Anything could hurt anyone at anytime without us knowing it. People who tend toward quietness often overthink the likelihood that they will hurt someone else, almost always concluding that their words could hurt. Yes, they could. But the first question above asks if it would probably hurt—and that does not mean offend, but truly hurt. We can all distinguish this in most cases. Most of the time, what we say probably won’t hurt, and we can speak freely. On the other hand, we’ve all been in situations where we know that something we want to say requires a second look. That’s when we move to question two.

There are times when I will hurt more by not speaking up than the other person will hurt if I speak. If someone else needs to hear what I have to say, even if it hurts them at first, I can speak. I do not have to live knowing that I kept silent when I could have brought something important to light. Think of all the people who have written articles or made speeches that they knew would offend others (such as many vocal speakers in civil rights movements). Yes, they offended some people. But the need to say the things on their minds outweighed the hurt that may have occurred.

We can also reduce this to smaller issues. Do I really need to tell so-and-so that her lipstick color is completely inappropriate for the occasion and does not flatter her skin tone? I may take great pride in knowing the best color combinations and being at the height of fashion. So-and-so may need to know this to avoid future embarrassment. Some people wouldn’t mind having an on-the-spot consultation. But we all know people who would be crushed to know that they don’t look as beautiful as they thought. Even in seemingly casual things, we need to take the other person into account. Just because we might not care if someone told us something like that doesn’t mean that our more sensitive friends might not be crushed in that moment. We have to take into account the situation (party or private dinner, crowd or one-on-one) and the person (Do they need this information for the future, and can I even determine if they do?).

If it seems like the person would be significantly hurt by what I have to say, but I still feel a drive to say it, I can move to question three. Can I rephrase my thoughts? I don’t have to spout of the first line that comes to my head. I can mitigate the hurt. I can even see where my statement might be taken incorrectly and figure out a way to say it that will make my true meaning more apparent.

Personally, my first inclination is often to say the most shocking, bluntest thing. Being frank often garners the most attention, and that’s what I want if I feel that what I have to say is important.

However, there are times to smooth the edges. If I am honest with myself, I can often see that the bluntest way of saying something could be misread a million different ways. If I can simply be clearer, I can avoid hurting those I care about…and even those I don’t.

As my mom likes to say, “There’s a fine line between being honest and being a bitch.”

Anyway, not everyone needs this advice. Many people are completely capable of balancing their own need for expression with the needs of others. For some of us, though, we need some coaching before we can naturally feel out situations. I know that with email especially, sentences can be combed over a dozen times and the virtue of hitting the send button can be contemplated ad nauseam. Sometimes, words can be sent as-is, without another thought. Other times, those words may need some reworking. And in many instances, the send button can be avoided altogether.

Good luck in your eternal pursuit of balance. I’m working on mine for sure!

Safely Connected

Human beings are all connected as one. We all came from the same stuff, and we will all return to it. Yet we exist in separate bodies; to some extent, we are independent creatures.

But it fascinates me how useless many of us feel when the things we do are not visible to other people. I have a need inside of me to show other people the things I create, the acts I perform, and even the thoughts in my head. I want to share and be understood, even though both of those things are sometimes impossible.

Perhaps we are all aware of each other’s secret acts to some degree, but not consciously. And so we feel disconnected. For me, when I feel set too far apart, I start trying to connect by calling people and sharing feelings, by getting out and being around people, or by doing or making something for someone else. I try to put myself in the same space as others or in a place that will be connected to them at some point so that I feel less alone.

What happens when life limits my abilities? What happens when I start relying on fewer and fewer social outlets? Suddenly, I’m highly dependent on one or two people for support of many kinds. This feels dangerous to me. I don’t trust anyone enough to limit the extent of my trust to a single person.

The desire for a broad social net seems healthy to me. It must be best to maintain a chorus of different voices in my life, rather than one lone tone. I don’t need the same perspective every time I need to share something. I need a variety of opinions and ways of being to keep me better-rounded. There is no one right way to be. There are many, and I need regular exposure to them.

But what if I’m tired? What if I can’t seem to reach out to anyone except a couple of people? I feel scared in those times. I wonder if others are forgetting about me or if I’m wise to trust the few people I have let in. I wonder when I will feel energetic enough to get out there and broaden the circle again. I worry about it.

To battle this, I must return again and again to the notion of living in the present. I only know this moment, now. And perhaps, now, I feel tired and need rest. Now, I have certain people in my life, and now, I will love them as best I can. I will love others as they venture in and out of my spectrum. I am safe with one hundred friends, with five, and with none. I am safe. Whether I know it or not, I’m connected to everyone and can tap into that power whenever I want to.

The main thing is to live in faith, not fear, and to love those I can. That’s it. If my life constructs a certain group of people around me, I can accept it and move within that, even changing it if necessary. But I do it slowly, moment by moment, as I am able.

Never think your social circle is less or more than it should be. Just concentrate on the individual relationships and how you would like them to grow or fade right now. Everything else is overwhelming and results from worry about the future or about what other people think. If we nurture what we have and what we are interested in, things will fall into place, and we will feel loved. I believe that and wish it for all of you.

Safe Love

Where does love meet self-preservation? When does a relationship become too much for me? How do I balance my desire to help another with my own needs?

Some call it loving with limits. But for a romantic like me, who prefers a limitless view of love, it’s easier for me to call it loving safely.

Thinking about true love as a safe love helps me to not put up too-thick barriers of self-protection. I don’t have to be in defense mode all the time, on guard against all the people that could potentially hurt me. Relationships are complicated and difficult. I’m going to get hurt occasionally. I don’t want to hang myself up on that reality and block myself off from deep connection in an attempt to ward off pain.

Instead of living a mistrustful life and avoiding any potential complications, I can enter into relationships with open eyes and make decisions based on the safety of everyone involved. If I start realizing that I don’t have the internal or external resources to deal with the issues someone else brings into my life, I need to back off and/or tell the other person that it has become too much for me. I have to be even more in touch with myself than with the other person.

When I think about my relationship choices in terms of safety, backing off, breaking up, or having difficult conversations seem like less hurtful actions. I’m not blaming; I’m not running scared. I’m not being inconsiderate or self centered. I’m doing what’s best for everyone involved. I’m trying to love in the best way I know how, and that could take the form of limiting the amount or nature of contact I have with someone.

A relationship is never worth spiraling myself into peril. Facing fears is different than putting myself in danger, and communication is often the key to deciphering which category a particular situation falls into. I can acknowledge my fears or doubts and even discuss them with the other person most of the time before making any rash decisions. If I think that things we are doing or habits we have with each other are putting one or both of us in potential jeopardy, I can say so. I don’t have to keep my mouth shut to preserve positive feelings.

When I have engaged people I care about in these difficult kinds of conversations, one or both of the following usually occurs: 1) the relationship grows more intimate; or 2) I learn something meaningful about myself and humanity. Number two is a guaranteed result, as long as I’m paying attention. Number one is a bonus. Other relationships have to end or change in significant ways.

For today, I am listening to my friends’ problems, hearing their joys, and staying involved as much as I can. But I am also honoring my need for rest, for introspective time alone, and for safe distance from potentially harmful behavior. My goal is safety, my shield is awareness, and my sword is honesty. May I fight the honorable and loving fight.

Tribute to my Grandma

As requested in her journal, I offer the song "Wayfaring Stranger" in memory of my grandma, who passed away on July 4, 2009.

(Turn up the volume.)