Still learning…

I’m an over-thinker, but I try and learn something from each painful experience in my life.  The discomfort that I’ve felt over losing our dog, Chili has got to mean something to me.  What have I learned from the past few weeks?

First lesson:  trust my intuition.  I’ve always been in tune with what I can feel or ‘know’.  Unfortunately, I’m also a very analytical and logical person, so I tend to override my gut instincts.  I knew that there was something a little ‘off’ about the dog all summer.  Even before the summer.  I kept telling my husband that something wasn’t right.

There were no overt signs.  She seemed healthy; her blood work didn’t show anything out of the ordinary.  But, there was something in her behavior that I found unsettling.  She wasn’t enthusiastic about her food, she seemed a bit depressed and sluggish at times.  I attributed it to our move, the new surroundings, the heat.  I had even written a couple of emails to a local holistic vet, saying that I felt like something was going on with her and I even felt like it was involving her liver or kidneys.  But, I didn’t act.  I suppressed it because I didn’t have any firm evidence.  Until of course, she got sick and died.  My gut spoke; my brain ignored.

The next thing that I learned:  reach out to folks who are going through a bad time.  We often don’t know what to say or how to react to people who are grieving or struggling or in pain.  It doesn’t matter what you say.  Say SOMETHING.  Let them know that you’re thinking about them.  Express your condolences.  Either by a note or a text or an email or a phone call.  Just do it.  More than once, if need be.

The comfort that comes from hearing from other humans is immeasurable.  Even from strangers, who only know me via my blog, my Facebook or my radio show.  The notes and comments that I received were of great comfort.  We are all humans, bound together by our common experiences of sadness, happiness, joy, sorrow, triumph.  Let’s suffer and celebrate together.

Lastly:  time really does begin to erode the pain.  It’s been less than a week, but I’m already beginning to soften.  I can finally talk about my sweet, departed pooch and feel warmth.  The pain I felt is morphing into gratitude for the memories and the time that we had her.  Everyone said this would come if I made a little space.  Everyone was right.  The collective psyche knows what it’s talking about.

Seems like we’d all have learned our life lessons by the time we reach the age of 50.  Not true. Gotta remain open to the wisdom that so constantly is knocking to get in.  Open the mind, open the door, open the heart.

It’s like gum on your shoe….

We’ve been in our new home in Michigan for about 6 weeks now and I love it. Love it.  Everything about it.

It’s weird because I dreaded leaving our house in Colorado.  I adored that house and even though I was ready to move to our new life, I was clinging to that house right up until the very last minute.  In fact, as I did my final walk-through, I sat down on the toilet in our master bath and bawled my eyes out.

Now that it’s in the rear view mirror, I have some thoughts on that whole clinging thing.  It’s a beautiful house.  We designed it from the ground up.  We made every decision right down to the drip edge and the door knobs.  It was mine.  It represented my success.  A beautiful custom-built, mountain home in a beautiful setting, close to a ski resort.  My American dream.  Hard to let go of that kind of symbol.

The funny thing is, I haven’t thought about that house once in the last 6 weeks.  Haven’t missed it for one second.  How can that be, when I was in such pain when I had to leave it?

Here’s what it teaches me:  letting go is the key to happiness.  Think of all of the stuff that we cling to; that we can’t imagine giving up or leaving or changing.  The stuff we hold onto is endless.  It’s hard to imagine a life without booze/job/lover/house/destructive and unhealthy habits/income/lifestyle/church/TV and the list goes on and on.

It’s like walking around with something clinging to the bottom of your shoe.  That irritating feeling when you get gum on your shoe and it sort of sticks with every other step.  You’re constantly looking down, scuffing along, trying to get that goddamned gum OFF YOUR SHOE.  That’s how clinging feels.  Distracting, annoying, nagging, sticky.

Make the change, walk away, scrape that shit off your shoe and guess what?  Life goes on. Every time I’ve made a major change in my life, it was scary and overwhelming and produced “what the hell am I thinking” nightmares, but it’s always turned out fine.  No, it’s turned out great.  I’ve grown and learned and adapted and morphed and evolved.  And I always ask myself, “What took so long?”.

Change isn’t all that scary.  It’s the thought and the planning and the worrying about change that creeps us out.  Think about something that you knew you COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT and now you do.  It could be a person or a material possession or a home or a job or an addiction.  You can live without it.  In fact, you will thrive.  You will grow.

If you’re in a situation where you’re squatting between what is and what will be, project 6 months forward and envision your life.  You’ll see that all of this is behind you and you’re in your new place on your new path.  Feel good?

It is good. You’ll love it. Change isn’t scary.  Change is life.

Generosity=Happiness

I’ve been thinking a lot about generosity.  I think that truly happy people know that their happiness comes from getting outside of themselves and swimming with the other humans in the sea of humanity.

I do not tend toward generosity.  I say that sadly and certainly not with pride.  I close myself off from people.  It’s some sort of defense mechanism that I developed as a young ‘un and the intensity waxes and wanes with the situation.  I’m working on changing that.

I think that in our culture, we equate generosity with philanthropy or financial donations or support.  If you give money, you’re generous.  That may be true…or it may not.  There are plenty of folks who hand out bills or write checks that lack true generosity. What I’m talking about, we’ll call generosity of spirit.

In a nutshell, generosity of spirit means that you greet pretty much everyone and every situation with an open heart.  You cut them some slack.  You realize that we all struggle together on this big blue marble.  Generosity of spirit means you soften when you see people’s pain, rather than judge them with a “well, you made your bed, now lay in it”.

Generosity of spirit requires empathy and the realization that underneath people’s bad or annoying (i.e. human) behavior, there is a soul that needs nurturing, just like you do.  That we all share 99.9% of our DNA and that as humans, we thrive on kindness and compassion from our compadres instead of the much easier, criticism and impatience.

There are cultures around the world (many of which as proud Americans, we make fun of as soft or poor or ‘third world’) where generosity is prized above all else.  Where you are expected to love your neighbor and see to their comfort and happiness and in turn, you bless yourself.  American values stress rugged individualism, making our own way, taking care of #1.  Which could be the reason why EVERYONE complains that nobody is very nice anymore. Are you nice?  Are you generous?  All the time?  Me, neither.

But, I’m professionally successful and financially well-off and I have two nice houses and a couple of cars and lots of stuff.  I should be ecstatic!  I’m not.

I’m working on opening up my heart to people, ideas, nature,  compassion and the love that I believe underscores life on earth.  That also means opening up to pain, grief, jealousy, envy, hate, anger and all of the things that lead to our suffering and struggling as we make our way.  Embracing the good stuff, while recognizing and allowing the bad, is the way to awaken to our short and finite time on earth.  Our culture does not help us on this path….at all.

It’s a process for me and I slip up and backslide everyday.  Some situations prompt me to old behavior where I close down,  curl up into my little protective ball of ‘me’ and ignore the needs of those around me.  I snap or bark or toss out a stinging, smart-ass remark, when I should smile and listen and encourage.  Two steps forward, one step back.  The key is not to hate myself for my shortcomings.  To practice the same generosity toward myself that I want to project to others.

I wish you well, I wish you freedom from suffering.  May you live a life of ease and peace.

Recalibrating….

“Recalibrating…Recalibrating… Recalibrating”…..

My brain has been like a confused GPS unit all week.  I thought that I was prepared for this kind of situation.  Why do I meditate?  Why do I study?  Why have I spent so much time reminding myself to live in this moment and that life is all about change and evolution?  That was all supposed to help me cope with the inevitable course alterations that are required of a functioning human.

I’ve spent the better part of the past year preparing for a transition in our lives.  Emotionally, financially, physically; the whole package.  I did this knowing that it all might not play out the way I was anticipating.  The whole point of a mindfulness practice is to remind ourselves that all we know is this particular moment.  All we really know is that life changes randomly despite our best-laid plans.

So, when a ‘recalibration’ became necessary, why did it freak me out?  Because old habits are so very ingrained in all of us.  I hate that.  Enlightenment is extremely hard work when your brain is so damned stubborn.

I want what I want, NOW.  I cannot stand uncertainty.  I need to have firm plans. I am dangling and swinging in the wind. ARGH!

So, as I sat on my meditation cushion this morning, it suddenly hit me: I’ll be fine.  With whatever transpires.  I planned for one scenario, but I’m open and ready to embrace the other one that has suddenly appeared.   Either one will be great.

The funny thing about my current angst is that I’ve always been a glass half-full type when it comes to how my life has played out.  Things typically work out just fine.  Yes, there are challenges, but we adapt.  We recalibrate.  I must keep reminding myself that it all unfolds as it will.  I can only respond in a healthy and flexible way.

I was listening to a podcast the other day from some talks at a Buddhist retreat center and a couple of concepts jumped up and stuck in my brain like  post-it notes.  “Respond, rather than react” and “pay attention; don’t cling”.    Allow yourself the time to ponder and assess your new circumstance and then don’t hang onto the old one and expect it to change. Don’t cling to the pre-conceptions or the ‘what ifs’ that can clog up our brains and cause us such suffering and pain.

I’m marching toward a fork in the road and either path is fine.  Either path will contain joy, pain, challenges, peace, happiness, tragedy, growth.  Because that’s life.