I Love People

Original spoken word piece (fresh off the mental press):

People are complicated, in more ways than one,
they are heart-felt and hollow – dirty and rancid,
they are magnificent and astoundingly talented and profoundly lost without direction,
they shine bright as a Vegas marquee and lack luster like flat brown earth in winter,

and I love every single drop of it

the taste of humanity’s vast spectrum coats and hangs and lingers on my senses
the same way watching a sun set or rise reminds us that there’s something….more –
more to connect with than securing our morning coffee,
more that getting transfixed with misplaced angst on social media,
more than our stone tower of impatience stacking ever-higher day by day,
more than the petty and over-dramatic utterances we think and hear and say,
more than being bound in the self-conscious prison we hold our own selves hostage,
more than constantly trying to assess who’s right and who’s…not

Me? I revel in the more –
from the enchanting song of pre-dawn silence to the interplay of colors interloping in the hills,
from the gentle sway of tree tops to the grace of birds in flight –
and I love people,
I love their fascinating awkwardness and amazing proclivities,
I love the way gals smile and guys walk,
I love watching people open up and talk in a way they never knew they could
and I love bearing witness to something new

I love being reminded that Yes we are all different and Yes we are all the same too
and I revel in the person I get to become when I’m around the all encompassing and collective You –
the You who allows the Me to interact more wholeheartedly
without fear of rebuke or ridicule or discontent
simply because you’re living how you’re living and now I get to be better for knowing

Cuz, when we stop listening we stop growing,
when we stop listening we stop loving the wet drops of humanity
falling like nectar in the valley gracing the fertile fields of our understanding,
cuz there is nothing more potent than befriending that in which our inclination
is to apprehend as suspect to our own discomfort

And one of the greatest misfortunes is that we run too easily,
we shut down too quickly when confronted with shaky ground
and we haven’t learned the benefits of sticking around,
even and especially when it’s hard

I love people because they’re messy and unpredictable
and pains in the ass
and full of surprises I did not see coming

I love people because I see my own self reflected
and they show me the work I have to do

I love people because
how can you not,
when the alternative is anything less

A Teaching Moment

It was deceivingly chilly outside the other day, when we went for a walk. Still, I dressed them in a warm-enough outer layer and hats that covered their ears. Half-way down the block, though, the allure of a late-October stroll to the park amid a blue sky and sunny day was masked by whipping winds, which carried winter’s slow approach on its breath. Suddenly, the delight of traipsing through colorful and crispy leaf piles was replaced by great discomfort. Scrunched up faces of disapproval and whining quickly ensued.

“It’s cold, let’s go home!!” said the 4-year-old.

“Eeehaaaaaaoohhh,” said the 2-year-old – or something to that affect.

I did briefly consider their input. I even glanced in the direction of the warm house we could return to, before determining that what we had here before us was an opportunity. This was a teaching moment.

I made some minor adjustments before we proceeded, one of which was to redirect our destination. The others involved putting the 2-year-old in the empty stroller I had carted along and showing both boys how to tuck their frigid fingers up into the sleeves of their sweaters, like turtle heads retreating into their shell. Lastly, and most important, I shook off my own feelings of cold displeasure, buoyed my attitude, and re-calibrated my compass in the direction of adventure. For good measure, I reminded my fellow travel companions that we were heading to the place we intended on going after visiting the park, which would afford them the chance to pick out a treat in which to enjoy after lunch.

The two-year-old was appeased enough to stop his caterwauling, once he was nestled in the stroller. The four-year-old, however, was decidedly unconvinced that anything other than returning home was in his best interest. Since he really didn’t have any other viable options, though, he reluctantly trudged alongside of us. Through his continued pleas to turn back and complaints of how cold it was, I made out-loud observations about the Halloween decorations on display at the houses we passed by and the beauty of the day. It wasn’t that I was trying to dismiss him or tune him out, I just wasn’t adding fuel to his detrimental utterings by listening intently – which, I might add, also helps with not getting personally swept up in the falderal of children’s un-skilled (and fleeting) reactions. After all, young ones are constantly learning from the words and behaviors of the adults that surround them. So, if I were to become as eq!”ually dis-satisfied with the coldness as he was, it would be teaching him to stay in that mode, instead of learning how to transition out of it. It’s worth mentioning that regardless of what’s going on, the level of our happiness depends almost solely on our attitude. We are presented with an active choice in every moment in regards to how we respond to whatever it is that’s happening.

Can Men & Women Be Friends?

At first glance, this post title may seem a bit off-topic in the realm of mindfulness, but upon closer examination of the word ‘mindfulness’, we may come to realize that really anything can be included under this umbrella word when we apply the application of direct and engaged attention, spurred by a desire to come into a deeper relationship of understanding.

This topic has been coming up for me lately. Can heterosexual men and women be friends? Part of me says yes and part of me says no. I think it depends largely on the circumstances involved. Social friendships, where interactions occur mostly in group settings, are different than close one-on-one friendships, where you’re spending more concentrated time together. I think social friendships are much more plausible than one-on-one friendships, in terms of the likelihood of having romantic feelings develop on either or both sides of the fence.

I was interested in boys at an early age. I had my first boyfriend in third grade and stayed in a steady stream of romantic relationships up until I met my husband, at age 19. Growing up, I had mostly guy friends. And I falsely told myself that it was because I just related better with guys. When I encountered SLAA (sex and love addicts anonymous) at age 19, I realized I had developed a lot of patterns of behavior that were detrimental and destructive. I came to understand that a big reason as to why I surrounded myself with guy friends was because I got a certain amount of attention that I really enjoyed, craved, and used to assert my self-worth and feel good about myself. A hard truth to come to terms with, at that time, was realizing that while I may have had no intention of being physically involved with my guy friends, I got a certain high from knowing that it was an option.

Allowing Others To Be As They Are

This is me crafting a response to a friend that I thought might prove helpful to post here as well. Recently, a friend approached me inquiring about how I was able to manage the ability to stop trying to control my husband. She had spoken to my husband, Mike, and learned that one of the components in his journey of getting clean and sober 5 years ago, while simultaneously healing from a long bout of depression, involved the work I was doing on myself, centered around, among other things, letting go of being so controlling.

With the crucial support of Alanon (a 12-step group aimed at helping people who have loved ones struggling with addiction), I was able to learn a key element in regards to how to cultivate my own sense of deep-rooted joy and happiness, which was to detach from Mike with love. Detaching with love was an alien concept at first. I was clumsy around it and fumbled with it for a while as I tried to understand what it meant, in a real-life application sort of way. But I slowly started to figure it out, using a slightly adapted version of the Serenity Prayer as a guiding principle along the way (see my own re-worded iteration above).

It is my opinion that most of us do not really and truly know that we are not in the position to change other people. I think we have an intellectual grasp that we cannot change others, but when it comes down to it, we think we’re right and others are wrong on a routine basis. And as long as we think our way of doing things is the right way –  maybe even the ONLY way – then we will continue to try to assert control over others, especially those closest to us, in an effort to get them to change.

5 years ago, the work I was doing on myself could be summed up with this statement: I was learning how to take responsibility for the quality of my own well-being. One of the biggest pieces of doing this work involved coming to see how much I heaped the quality of my well-being onto Mike. How oftentimes my mood depended on his. How I allowed his actions to affect my attitude and outlook. I came to see that as long as my mood, disposition, attitude, and outlook relied on his, I was powerless. If I was needing him to be a certain way in order for me to be a certain way, I was going to be miserable, and stay that way.

I’ll take the issue of cleanliness, as an easy and workable example. I am someone who greatly appreciates, and on some level really needs, a sense of spacial orderliness and cleanliness. However, one look through the window into his truck cab, and you would clearly see that my husband could care less about such things. I spent years and years being the sort of wife who mastered the common and destructive patterns of being passive-aggressive: huffing and puffing my way around him picking up dishes and dirty clothes, stomping around on my way to take out the trash or mow the lawn, and washing dishes or cleaning the house with the manic energy of the Tasmanian Devil. And, of course, no master passive-aggressive would be complete without having their own well-cultivated Tone of Voice, indicating to those that know them best to Watch the F*** Out. I remember my mom’s Tone of Voice while growing up. Like mother like daughter.

No Such Thing

“There is no such thing as an insignificant moment.” – Chan Dieu Hoa

 

You Are What You Think

This is me preparing for another teaching-style talk at my local sangha Be Here Now. So, while it may not be the most riveting post for you to read, my much-appreciated friends, it does offer me a great platform and outlet in which to figure out what it is I’d like to say – and I am reminded of the ending statement I recently heard from Hemingway’s acceptance speech from 1954 for winning the Nobel Prize: “…A writer should write what he has to say and not speak it.” Of course, my motivation lies in writing about it in order to speak about it, but I am nourished by this statement just the same.

I’ll also be giving this talk jointly with my husband Mike, which we’ve been doing once a year for the past 2-3 years. We’ve entitled it: You are what you think and we’ll be offering it on Monday night, October 23rd.

On an introductory note, for those of you sticking around to read this through :), the topic for this talk was spurred by coming to the realization of how a lack of self-acceptance is one of the largest obstacles on the path of healing, growth, transformation, and well-being. In having been attending a meditation group virtually every week for the past 15 years, where we have an open sharing circle built into our format, it’s become very clear to me just how much people give themselves a hard time about ALL kinds of things. But it’s only recently been an insight of mine that this is in fact one of the greatest roadblocks we face in regards to living more mindfully and skillfully, with more ease and balance.

My husband will be talking first, for about 20-minutes, and plans on focusing his segment on highlighting what a thought and a view are and what the differences are between them. The idea being that our long-held views are what shape our thoughts, and our thoughts are what fuel our words and actions. Most of us are not well in touch with what our views are – our deeply held beliefs that have shaped us and continue to shape us. A guiding quote for us is one from Thich Nhat Hanh:

Attachment to views is the greatest impediment to spiritual growth. – TNH

For my portion of the talk I plan on opening with a psychological exercise that I recently learned, which will prompt folks to get in touch with how they talk to themselves internally while in the process of doing it.

As for what I’ll say, here goes:

If it were as easy as just stopping giving ourselves a hard time we would’ve all done that by now. Most of us know when it is we’re being hard on ourselves or beating ourselves up over something. So just stopping this particular habit is most likely not a realistic thing to expect to have happen. And the reasons are 1. We’ve been practicing this internal dialog for probably our whole lives, so it’s deeply ingrained and thus will take time to transform and 2. Because when we get stuck in our intellect it keeps us from developing the necessary actions it takes to embody whatever it is we’re looking to work on in regards to our own growth and well-being. So just because we know something in our mind intellectually doesn’t mean it translates into an embodied experience, which is what’s necessary in order for us to progress on our path. Knowing is not enough – knowing is a critical first step, but we need to pair knowing with doing, in order for transformation and healing to take place.

Mindful Morning Saturdays

 

I was inspired by the new Thich Nhat Hanh film “Walk With Me” and made this video montage of a practice I call Mindful Morning Saturdays, which I do on Saturday mornings from 5-8am. Music by Ballake Sissoko; ending chant by Michael Ciborski.

Developing a spiritual component in our life

allows us to become both full and empty at the same time.

Full of connection with everything and everyone else –

and empty of a separate self,

the “I” that stands in our way of growth,

transformation,

and freedom.

Familiar Suffering

17 percent:
the success rate of the oldest residential drug & alcohol treatment facility in the world.
17 percent
of people stay sober for a year after they leave.
17 percent.
And it’s the highest success rate of any treatment center in the w h o l e world.
17 percent.

*Data from the book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, published in 2003.

One of the most recent studies on recidivism rates – which most often refers to the rate at which a person relapses back into criminal behavior after being released from prison – showed that 67.8% of people were rearrested within 3-years of being released from prison, within 5-years that number increases to 76.6%. And of those prisoners, a little more than half were arrested by the end of the first year of being released.

I often ponder why it’s so hard to break our cycles of detrimental behaviors and habits. These are more extreme examples, of course, but the thread is the same for all of us. We all have a hard time letting go of the suffering we’ve grown strangely accustomed to. Even when we know what we’re doing is not working. Even when we’re miserable. Even when we’re crippled by shame and guilt and fear.

A common deterrent towards making positive changes that I’ve heard often from people, in a variety of contexts, involves the deeply rooted and long-held view that they’re broken, un-fixable, damaged beyond repair. My husband used to think he was one of those people. I have at least two friends and a family member I can think of that feel this way, too. And it makes sense to me that if we think we are broken then there’s little sense in trying to change course – because there’s a core belief that nothing will work.

“Attachment to views is the greatest impediment to spiritual growth.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

Knowing Thyself

To listen to me reading this blog post in audio form:

 

I’ve questioned whether I can make it through this book: A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, the likes of which I discovered propped up in one of those little free libraries situated on a quiet neighborhood street in town. I almost didn’t take it, on account of the Oprah’s Book Club sticker adhered to the cover, which was designed to be a draw, a first-class recommendation, a rubber-stamp of approval by someone people trust. For me, though, it served only the ill-affects of resigning to a fate that had been chosen – neigh, thrusted – upon the masses, as though a woman who graces the cover of every O magazine should wield the power to say what’s hot in the literary world. How does this work? Do people care so little for their own opinion that they should have cause to hold hers in such high regard as to turn over their decision making power? But, I digress.

The reason I may not get through this book has nothing, in fact, to do with the circular sticker glued to the front. Instead, it has to do with the sheer visceral magnitude of the writer’s account of getting sober – in what turns out to be the oldest residential drug and alcohol treatment facility in the world, located in the state of Minnesota. The rock-bottom nature of his experience. The clutching force of how far a human being can spiral down the black hole of depravity. The hellish descriptions of agony. But it’s the realness that keeps me reading. And I know that since he mustered the ability to relive it while coiled over his computer, hands shaky on the keys, I can settle in beside him and listen to his story.

The point? There’s a time to push through discomfort and there’s a time not to. It depends on the situation and where we’re at. If we don’t know ourselves well, it becomes almost impossible to intuit which time calls for which action. Sometimes discomfort is a sign of needing to stop engaging with something because it may trigger us in un-beneficial ways. Other times, it’s a sign to keep going because it affords us the opportunity to learn and grow. And only we ourselves can know which time is which.

Don’t Take Things So Personally

I know what THAT look means. What is it? Is it my tatts you’re disapproving of? Is it my piercings? My wild hair? My colorful outfit? Geese. Why do people have to be so judgemental? I mean, here I am having lunch, minding my own business, and this dude has the gall to stare at me like THAT?! Who does he think he is? Does he have nothing better to do? Is my alternative appearance so displeasing? People are such haters.

Uh-oh. Crap. Now he’s coming over here. Great. Here we go.

“Excuse me, would you mind closing the shade right next to you? The glare is quite something over where I’m sitting.”
“Uh. Sure.”
“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. My eyes thank you, they’ve been stuck in squint mode ever since I sat down.”