On Attention

I am learning to focus on what I have rather than what I have not, the relationships available to me for nurturing rather than those that are not. It is a practice, to see what is in abundance rather than to focus on what is withering away. If I place my attention on what is withering, so too will be the fate of what is currently growing.

On Global Conflict

Having given up cable television last year, I rarely watch the news but CNN happened to be closed captioned on the screen in front of the chest press at the YMCA yesterday.  In the two minutes that I sat there, this is what I gathered: Iran is acting badly and Obama made a threat.  The media was analyzing with fervor whether or not Obama would follow through on his threat.

I found this humorous.  What I saw was the alcoholic/codependent dynamic on a global scale.  I heard the words of my sponsor - Say what you mean.  Do what you say.  It's ironically simple.  I saw the media scuttling around in a dramatic buzz like ants with a disrupted mound, like family members dealing with an alcoholic crisis of chaos and I felt - amazingly sane.

Time

Time. Wide open. Empty. Ready to fill with possibilities, so much so that I am paralyzed. This is why I sit here on my brand new computer which I was forced to purchase when my old one died a few weeks ago. I've barely used it because my son is on it constantly. I have to say...Niiice!

Who knew that in five years computers had gotten so much faster and had so much more drive space?! Now I have to start saving for the next one that I will undoubtably have to purchase five years down the road, kinda like the replacement car which I have not begun saving for yet.

Did I buy or give a car to my seventeen year old daughter? Heck no. Is there college savings? Some, but it didn't come from my pocketbook. Am I saving up for the wedding she will someday have? That's a laugh. Welcome to the world of most people, Laine. God knows, it is not how I grew up. Everything was given to me. I practically had someone walking behind me sweeping up my tracks. So it surprises me, of all the high expectations that I have held myself to all of these years, why was it so easy for me to let go of the idea that parents should provide these things for their children?

Just as I was about to walk away and end this with the question, "What do you think?" the answer came to me. I was able to let this go because as an adult, I've resented it. I've resented that my parents didn't allow me to grow up, to pay my own way for some things, to mature into an independent adult. I began at 37 what I should have begun at 15. So when my daughter leaves for work on a bike or a bus I take no pleasure in that, but neither do I feel any guilt. I lose no sleep over what she is going to do after high school or how she is going to pay for it. I have complete confidence that she will find her way. She may have little money and no education, but she will be far better equipped to deal with life than I was. Nope. No guilt.

On how I start my day

I wake and look into the mirror. I see circles under my eyes and think, you have not been giving yourself enough rest. I see flaky skin and think, you have not been drinking enough water. I see eyebrow hairs growing in and think, you need to take care of that and I recall that I've been telling myself this for several days now.

Today I awaken to the fact that these are not the words of love, but hate. I wonder, if this is my inner landscape, then what must I project outwards and onto others and if I do not treat myself with loving kindness how can I expect to attract others who will? Then I think how much better it would be to place my effort into this endeavor, to love myself, then it is to place my effort into seeking it from impermanent external sources as I have always done.

I go back to bed and imagine starting my day over, peering into the mirror and saying, "Good morning. I love you."

On Happiness

Who knew that happiness was quiet? It is not exuberant exhilaration. It is a placid lake. It is sitting still. It is warmth in my belly.

Happiness is accessible. It is within. It is without. It is expansive. It reaches out.

Happiness is knowing with certainty that no one is disconnected, separate, or alone and that there is absolutely nothing that we must do.

Performance Art Witnessing

Thank you to my friend, Emily, and her performance last night at A Family Affair. Before she began speaking we sat silently observing a film,  a film of a person being mummified in toilet paper.  In those seconds before Emily spoke a feeling came over me, an urge, the need write, just as she had done when she had witnessed the original mummification. But the moment wasn't about me.  It was about her witnessing experience so I listened and was moved as much by her experience as by my own.  What follows is what I experienced in 30 seconds of witnessing.

Free me of these bandages,  this bondage of self which encumbers and prohibits me. I am screaming to break free.  There is no one to hear me,  no one to witness me.

There is no one with scissors to cut me loose. It is I who must free myself like a butterfly from a cacoon.  It is in the struggle to break free that the muscles are developed to fly.  I must do it on my own.  No one can do it for me and I must do it because I have the desire to see the light of day,  to spread my wings and fly.   Daily I do what I can to chip away at that which binds me.  Today is the day,  the day I break free and fly. 

On a hike

I decided to do things differently this weekend.  I chose to focus on myself by going for a hike and in doing so I was going to war with myself.   You see there is a part of me that is all about change but there is an impudent child in me as well, a child who wants to maintain the status quo.  The result is an intra-psychic battle.

As I began the ascent to Lake Valhalla, I observed my thoughts, “Ugh.  This is hard today.  Maybe I should have stayed home.  Maybe Ben would have eventually wanted to go swimming or do something other than sitting in front a screen all day.  Perhaps I am a bad mother for leaving him at home.”  I listened but pushed on. 

Soon enough my heart had reached a steady cardio rhythm.  I found my stride and the status quo’s voice of negativity disappeared.  The noise distractions and interruptions of daily life had been shed like a child’s coat after returning home from school.  I was in flow, a moving meditation.   My body, mind and spirit were synchronized and at ease with the surrounding environment.  I experienced mental clarity and receptivity, the reason I hike.    

I remained in flow for some time until the voices of other hikers calling after their dog, Oscar, crept into my awareness.  We became traveling companions until at last our destination, Lake Valhalla, was reached.  I, seeking the solemnity of solitude to eat and to reflect and to write, took a separate path.

Alas, solemnity was not to be.  Though there were no humans in close range, there were the black flies.  I moved.  I swatted.  I swung my extra shirt like a horse swishing his tail.  I stood in the water.  I stood out of the water.  I ate. I didn’t eat.  Finally I took a new approach.  I sat on a log, closed my eyes and calmed my agitation.  I listened to the sound of insect wings whirring past my ears, some growing louder, others softer.  I felt the tickle as they alighted on my skin.  I observed myself.  I did not react.  I was willing.  Then one bit me.  That was it! 

I came to see that a seated reflection was not the purpose of this trip.  I was meant to move and so I did.  I moved to begin the return journey.   I had plans for that evening to get home to, plans I was looking forward to.  I allowed the thoughts of what was to come carry me down the trail and back to my car.  I moved swiftly over Stephen’s Pass, past the Iron Goat Trail and the town of Skykomish.  I checked my GPS for the estimated time of arrival at home.  “That couldn’t be right,” I told myself.  I sought another source of information and as I did, the traffic came to a halt.  I single line of brake lights stretched out in front of me and disappeared around a bend.  My heart sank and the voice of the status quo perked up with delight.  “I knew you shouldn’t have come out here on a Sunday!” it berated.  It called me stupid and what were you thinking, you should have known better.  I took a deep breath and this is what came to me - acceptance.  

The day had been an opportunity to accept life today as it was, with all of its imperfections, unrealized expectations, annoyances and changes of plans.  It was an opportunity to accept my powerlessness to change any of the circumstances of the day and an opportunity to accept myself, impudent child and all.  It was an opportunity to practice patience and to extend compassion to myself.  What I got to experience was love.