Decision Fatigue

Lately, I’ve been connecting with a feeling I’m not super used to: decision fatigue. In my pre-woods life, while of course I experienced stress and overwhelm at times, my mode of operation as an organized-planner type, afforded me the ability to be pretty darn decisive. My systems were well honed, and I thrived on the routine I created for myself. But now that we’ve embarked on this new off-grid living journey, and are invested in slow-growing a rustic mindfulness practice center and wanting to encourage others to join us, the learning curve for what we’re doing is steep. I find myself maxing out regularly when confronted with the plethora of decisions needing to be made, and having such little practical experience and/or knowledge base on how to make them. 

I reckon that many people face the feeling of decision fatigue on a regular basis, even daily. It makes a lot of sense. There can so many decisions one must make in the course of a day! 

Here’s what I’m practicing right now, when it comes to decision fatigue (DF):

• Noticing. The first really important thing when it comes to anything really, is to take notice of what’s really going on. When I can pause and check in with myself when I feel frazzled, it helps me to create space so that I can see things more clearly. Simple recognition that Okay, I’m feeling decision fatigue right now, allows me to shine light on my present moment experience in a way that opens up some wiggle room for me to make a conscious choice about how to proceed, vs operating blindly and frantically.
• Befriending. After noticing, comes befriending. I consider this an advanced level skill to develop, and one that is well worth the effort. It never ceases to amaze me how the act of befriending entirely transforms a situation. Whole-hearted self-befriending is one of the most potent practices I’ve experienced. It’s a game changer. And it takes ongoing, consistent practice. 
• Shifting gears. Knowing when & how to shift energetic gears is crucial when it comes to self-care. Sometimes when I’m in DF overload, I find that what I am most in need of is a gear shift. And maybe that means I need to go and take a nap, or maybe it means I need to invest my time in doing an easy activity that doesn’t require a whole lot of brain power. Or maybe it means I turn on some music, and dance it out. Sometimes the best self-care involves knowing when to shift gears, and then, ya know, actually doing it. 
• Deep breathing. I’m not sure there’s anything I’ve encountered that isn’t beneficially aided by the practice of deep breathing. Breathing from my belly, so that my stomach rises and falls noticeably on my inhale & exhale, and not just from the shallow upper register of my lungs, offers an immediate surge of more easeful energy into my body & mind. I’m not saying it magically whisks away the feeling of DF overload, but it does promote a felt sense of groundedness, which I can gratefully lean into for support. 

The Body Knows Before the Brain

I’m starting to realize that off-grid land living is rather akin to what the process was like for me in becoming a person who practiced sitting meditation. Uncomfortable and strange and painfully unfamiliar. And yet, the heightened feelings of discomfort and strangeness and unfamiliarity were all in service to help flow the river of energy that is me – an often stubborn body of water, engrained in its ways – in the direction of something that was calling, and felt “right” to move towards. 

Don’t ask me how or why, but paired together sometimes are discomfort & contentment. I know it sounds impossible, as though one would automatically cancel the other one out. I know it doesn’t make logical sense. Still, when one steps on any new path, when it’s the right one, the discomfort that arises is a different brand than we experiences when traveling on a path that is leading us astray. The differences are subtle, but they very much exist. 

The body knows before the mind when it’s heading in the right direction. 

Thing is, the idea of doing something will always be way different than actually doing whatever it is. Whether it’s practicing meditation or living off-grid or learning how to fly-fish or pursuing a new career. Before we get into the real live thick of it, our romanticized ideas will whisk us away into a magical land of make-belive, where rainbows and puppies exist in unending supply.

From as far back as I can remember, something has called and spoken to me to live a different way of life. Counter to the culture displayed on the main stage around me. Counter to the messaging we abundantly receive here in the U.S through media, entertainment, and advertising. Counter to the hardcore military-like training instilled in us to believe that happiness means looking a certain way, having certain things, or acquiring a certain professional status, and that success is measured by the size of your residence, bank account, collection of toys & gadgets, and amount of awards, degrees, and accolades received. 

One Gal Flying Solo

April 18, 2023, Journal Entry

7pm and the sky dims in preparation for night’s return. I’m alone on the land overnight, for what amounts to only the second time since we moved here last July. While I’m no stranger to solo travels and overnights, I by no means am a well-seasoned veteran. Mostly I am with my person. I only dabble in the art of flying solo. So every time I am faced with being the lone crusader involving day turning to night and back to day again, it requires an extra rallying of inner strength. A strength I am sometimes unsure I have, but always seem to muster in the end. 

Safety is an interesting thing to contemplate and consider. A vocal raven has been calling outside and I’m not sure if it’s in reassurance or warning. With my person, I always feel safe. Without him, my surroundings get put into question. But as I have an interest in wanting to skill-build in this department, here I am, optionally choosing to lean into the discomfort involved in dwelling alone for a couple of nights. 

I’m a dame who places value in conjuring a balance of having in mind a plan of action should something unwelcome happen, and centering myself with ease and friendliness in the present moment. It’s not uncommon for me to need to sweet-talk myself away from crossing over into the unhelpful realm of catastrophizing. But if there’s anything I am good at it’s self-befriending, and I regard it as one of the most practical and superbly beneficial skills I’ve worked to develop. 

As the mountain air cools outside, the woodstove crackles inside. After eating a delicious dinner of butternut soup and rosemary focaccia from Le Petit, I went for a walkabout up to Morning Sun meadow. When I came back, I sang the evening chant and sat for a bit in meditation. These are a few of my favorite things. 

My heart thrums with the community of trees rooted in all directions. As they transmit their poetry of harmony and quiet rejoice, I, too, cast the net of my loving-kindness near and far. As a means of both protection and sacred connection.

Onward Ho to Deer Park We Go

Soon soon, Mike and I will once again be heading back to Deer Park Monastery (DP), with plans to return home to Montana and our small-sprouting, rustic & humble practice center Empty Mountain (EM) in April. As we’ve been venturing to DP annually since 2014 – and for longer stints over the last 3-years – returning to DP feels very much like a homecoming. 

Since moving onto the land we purchased on July 1st, most of my energy for blogging has been routed towards EM weekly blog posts on our website (see here) and less so here on my personal practice blog. But since we’ll soon be on retreat at DP, with no EM updates for a little while, I anticipate jumping back into my site here a little more, perhaps posting twice a month. 

By happenstance and not direct intention – also fueled by the pandemic – Mike & I have become snow birds these last few years, wintering south like migratory birds. Personally, however, I’m not a big fan of people assuming I head south to get away from our north country winter. It’s just sorta worked out that way. Actually, I quite miss winter in Montana when we’re gone. The writer in me, especially the poet, thoroughly enjoys a good hibernation season. For me, a proper winter is fertile ground to help spark creative flow. 

Please don’t get me wrong, though. I super enjoy the near full-time sun of southern California, but it’s kinda like when I visit back home, the place of my birth & raising outside of Philly (go Eagles!). It’s perfectly nice and lovely, but it just doesn’t hold my heart in the same way as my home in Montana does. 

What a treat and gift it is to structure our lives in such a way that enables Mike and I to spend swaths of time on retreat at DP. We are incredibly fortunate and deeply grateful for being practitioners on the path of practice; continuations of our beloved teacher Thay (Thich Nhat Hanh); and welcomed in by the four-fold community at DP. 

Onward ho to DP we go.

Simple Living

For months leading up to this big new life change my husband and I are amid, lingering in the background: a quiet but persistent wondering, tinged with doubt, about whether or not I’d be cut out for this; ready for it; willing enough; able. 

With the right attitude, I’m realizing now, anything is possible. More than setting one’s mind to an undertaking or action, a proper angling of mood is necessary. Just as a great photograph is made possible by the right lighting, our outer experience is largely crafted by the quality of our internal landscape.  

At a little over a month in, situated on our newly purchased land, sans structures and services, I can say this: we’re doing it. Despite knowing little about how to live off-grid in the woods; despite the low morale moments that crop up; despite the feelings of overwhelm that sometimes seem unbearable; despite my own physical limitations. We’re figuring it out, one slow step at a time. We’re settling in. We’re learning. We’re living a different way of life. 

We’re scaling down on our material needs, living within our means, and living debt-free, without Mike needing to work 50+hours of hard labor a week. We’re on the path of cultivating a more simplified way of life. 

Simple living is one of those things, I think, that can be both over-glorified and underrated. Otherwise put, it’s easy to misunderstand what it means to actually do it, and not have it be just some grand idea or set of notions that sound good. Everything exists on a spectrum and simplifying one’s way of life is no different. There are many ways to simplify, whatever our circumstances are. Still, there’s a decent chance that any amount of simplifying will require an ability to not get swept up in the sea of societal/collective judgements, at least if one desires to maintain a sense of self-possession and strength.

I recently finished reading Eleanor Roosevelt’s book You Learn by Living, which I found to be an excellent read, BTW. In it she writes: Today, the outer pressures are not as drastic as they have been in the past – the terribly recent past, in some cases – where failure to conform meant imprisonment or torture or even death. They are, however, more dangerous in a way because they are more insidious. These are the pressures to live like our neighbors, to think like our community, to reshape ourselves in the image of someone else. The net result of this surrender is the destruction of the individual and the loss of his integrity…It is a brave thing to have courage to be an individual; it is also, perhaps, a lonely thing. But it is better than not being an individual, which is to be nobody at all. 

Her words are a powerhouse of wisdom, in my view. It’s so very easy to fall in line with what we think we should be doing, vs. risking any sort of discomfort of differentness to walk our own path, against the stream. We may say: Who cares what others think?! But the truth is, many of us do care, a lot. It’s worth looking into how much of the life we lead is to appease others or fit in or keep up with the Joneses (which, as Eleanor puts it, is one of the real menaces of our country). To go our own way is truly not so easy.