Category: meditation

The Most Influential Person in the Room

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“You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” – Mark Twain

When we drive to school, my son often says “go this way” as I back out and points to the direction opposite the way we need to go. The other day we had a couple of extra minutes so I humored him and went the way he wanted down our block – then I turned, turned and turned and we were back on our way. That little change to give him some control made him so much happier.

This little exercise reminded me of all the choices we make and as we do, how they help us narrate our own story. I also brought to mind the quote from humorist Kevin Kling “we need to rewrite our story sometimes just so we can get some sleep” that I talked about in the post I wrote for Aspiring Blog about the power of telling our own stories. I’m reblogging it here because I think there is so much goodness in remembering the power of our own stories:

I was listening to an On Being podcast where Krista Tippett was interviewing American humorist and storyteller Kevin Kling. He was born with a disabled arm and then in mid-life was in a motorcycle accident that paralyzed his other arm.

He was talking about the PTSD that came with his accident. With it came anger and inability to sleep and when it resurfaced with a vengeance years after the accident he was talking to his therapist about it.

She said that he needed to retell the story with a different ending – tell the story as if he didn’t hit the car and he reached his destination. He did that and it worked! He was able to sleep again. His takeaway was: “We need to rewrite our story sometimes just so we can get some sleep.”

That line caught me by the throat and hasn’t let go. Because it means that our bodies believe our own storytelling. It means that while I think a storyteller is someone like Kevin Kling, it is actually my own storytelling that matters most.

It means that the most influential person in my life isn’t my boss, my loved ones, a beloved actor or author, or even Oprah Winfrey – it’s me.

So I’ve pondered the stories I tell myself. The two most cataclysmic things that have happened in the past ten years of my life are when someone told me of the infidelities of my husband I’d been married to for eight years and the marriage fell apart.

Then once I was divorced, I choose to have kids on my own as a single parent. Someone said to me when my firstborn was about 6 months old, “I wish that he [my ex-husband] hadn’t wasted so much of your time.” And I replied something like, “It’s okay, that marriage and its downfall got me to meditation and where I needed to be.”

I rewrote the story of heartbreak and loss as the impetus to put me on my current path with these two beautiful children I love dearly. I believe that the Divine has used all of the past to get me where I needed to be which I genuinely believe to be true. But it is also a story that helps me be very happy where I am instead of mourning what I’ve lost.

In talking about the story he’s rewritten so that he can sleep, Kevin Kling said that of course he wakes up every morning and has to contend with the fact that his arms don’t work as a result of the fact that the accident did really happen.

Stories can’t change the circumstances of our lives, but they do change how we relate to those circumstances. Knowing this I’m carefully checking my current inventory of stories to make sure I’m telling myself the right ones!

Renewal

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“We are like someone in a very dark night over whom lightening flashes again and again.” – Maimonides

By the end of last week, I was feeling burnt out. My daughter stayed home from school for a couple of days, I was trying to start a new project with a new client and that’s scenario that causes me the most stress — when I try to parent and work at the same time. I end up feeling like a failure at both. Then I got the news that my favorite teacher from my son’s class is leaving, it added disappointment and worry to my heap. By Friday night, I was feeling disoriented – as if I was driving a dark road without the lights on.

So I took some advice about renewal that I’d recently heard a couple of places – maybe a podcast and the blogosphere and intentionally watched a movie after the kids went to bed instead of flipping through channels or surfing social media. It took me two nights to watch A Dog’s Purpose but I cried, I cheered and at the end, definitely felt better.

In two hours, it reminded me of perspective and faith. It all works out in the end. There is a beautiful design to this life. Once time and the Universe connect the threads, you can see how they all come together for good. I have come to know this in my bones and my Budheo-Christian beliefs (my made up combo name) have given my many examples.

And I’ve watched it work with my mom, especially after the death of her husband of 53 years. When my dad died suddenly in a bike accident, my mom has relied again on again on the verse from Romans 8:28. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” She is an extraordinarily strong, independent, smart woman – but I’ve seen how she goes back and reconnects to that belief to renew her charge to be useful, kind and good.

I get disoriented and disconnected from time to time, I think we all do. What I’ve learned is that it’s a reminder to reconnect to my faith and beliefs and the faster I do it, the less I blunder about without the lights on. Whether it is just sitting still and meditating, watching a movie or hiking to the top of something, when I find the way to renewal, I’m always heartened by the experience. It strengthens my faith that I can find my way back to the Source. Once again, it all comes together, I see how the dots connect or relax into knowing that one day I will.

(photo from Pexels)

Checking for Help

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“If you were waiting for a sign, this is it.” – unknown

Last week I was stressed because my biggest client was 35 days late in paying their invoice for July. I’ve been self-employed for 20 years so it’s not the first time I’ve had a situation like this. I’ve learned on my side, I need to make sure it isn’t an indication of a problem with my relationship with the client and work. If everything is okay and it’s just a payment issue on their side, I’m pretty good at weathering the storm and not worrying about it too much.

So I was fine for the first 2 weeks the payment was late.

But by the 3rd week it was late, I’d started to check the mailbox a few times a day and when on one of those days, an envelope came from my health insurance provider, I ignored it and set it unopened on my desk.

When the 4th week started, I was spending a lot of meditation time both trying to acknowledge and dissipate the stress and praying to the Universe to end the wait.

By the 5th week, I was in a low-grade panic – I’d managed to pay all my commitments but I was down to $14 in my checking account.

Finally the payment came. It was only AFTER it came that I opened the envelope from the health insurance company and found that they’d sent me an unexpected rebate. I’d had a check sitting on my desk for TWO weeks while I sweated out the payment from my client.

It reminds me of the story about a man who gets caught in a flood and is stuck inside his house. He prays for God to save him and while he’s praying, the phone rings. It’s the fire department asking if he needs to be rescued. He answers, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” A little while later after the flood waters have risen even more so he’s hanging out his 2nd story window, some neighbors come by in a boat and ask if he needs help. He replies, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.” Finally the flood water is so high that he’s up on his roof and a helicopter comes by and offers to evacuate him. He yells, “No, I’m sure God is coming to save me.”

After he drowns and goes to Heaven, he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” And God replies, “I called you, I sent a boat for you and flew in a helicopter to get you but you wouldn’t come.”

The whole experience makes me wonder if life is simply a process of removing our self-imposed blinders. Note to self: when asking for help, be open to any package it might come in, not just the one I expect.

(Photo from Pexels)

Deep Enough

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“When you realize how perfect everything is, you will tilt you head back and laugh at the sky.” – Buddha

My honorary aunt and uncle came to visit recently. They were my parent’s best friends since before I was born so every time I’m with them, it feels like old times. Talking with my 92-year-old “uncle,” he asked about my son going to daycare all day during the week. “He seems so little for that” he says. And I agreed and added, “True, he is little. But I need the help.”

My uncle looked off, squinted his eyes as if he was trying and failing to imagine choosing to be a single parent, taking care of children, working and balancing it all. Then he looked back and gently said, “I guess I could see that” in a tone that confirmed he couldn’t.

My uncle is a renowned Biblical scholar and retired professor of Theology. He once spent 17 years writing a book on the gospel of Matthew. But he has very little practical knowledge of the world. Years ago my uncle visited a college in Texas and was sitting next to a rancher at a meet-and-greet dinner. The rancher said he had 300 head of cattle and my uncle asked how many cows that was. The rancher famously replied, “I don’t know about where you come from but here in Texas, our cows only have one head each.”

In the moments when I struggle to find any sense of the spiritual plane in my hectic life, I sometimes envy people like my uncle who seem to have created calm and ordered lives in which to acquire deep knowledge of the Divine. I would love to be so deep in the study of life, Mystery and God. But life has called me to be broad instead.

When I sit to meditate in the morning, I usually find I already am participating in the mystery of life, just in a different way than the enlightenment I imagine I could reach if I had hours to go deep. In the quiet moments before I wake my two kids and go full on to get them out the door, I often get a glimpse of the Divine and Universal Flow find right here in my beautiful, messy life.

Sure, I have popcorn in my bra and am changing diapers in the back of my SUV between dropping my daughter and school and my son at daycare but I don’t need to be a scholar to know that God is right there, laughing at the gentle touch between us.

My uncle has only been able to been so deep because he has my aunt who has handled almost all the details of their life, their kids and grandkids. At the end of their visit, she said to me with a smile and a wink on the way out, “I don’t know how you do it all.” And I felt the presence of God in that spark of knowing that passed between us.

(photo from Pexels)

Feedback Loops

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“Life is an echo. What you send out — comes back.” – unknown

My son and I were reading before bedtime. He climbed up on my bed with the pile of board books, snuggled in and then said, “Come up.” After I did, he said with a clap, “Good boy, Mama!”

When I put my daughter to bed, after we say our prayers and I snuggle her up so only her little face is showing above the comforter, I say “Good night, beautiful girl.” And she replies “Good night, beautiful mama.”

I studied feedback and control systems in college when getting my Electrical Engineering degree. But nothing has been more effective and more immediate than parenting in reminding me that life is an echo. My kids show me every day that what I send out comes right back to me, usually in the same tone.

Trust Falls

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“The angel seeing us is watching through each other’s eyes.” – Rickie Lee Jones

My friend Eric was over the other night and my daughter accidentally did one of those “trust falls” when she tripped over something, fell backwards and he caught her. She thought that was so much fun that she wanted to do it again and again.

Watching this, I was trying to think who I trust to catch me. As I started listing all the wonderful people in my life in my head and thinking whether I’d trust them to catch me if I metaphorically fell (like if I got sick), I started automatically providing excuses why I wouldn’t ask. Like there’s Lindsey but she is so busy, there’s Eric but he just started a new job, there’s Katie but she’s a half hour away, and there’s my mom but she should be enjoying her senior years.

I had to meditate on this for a while. Why is it that I don’t “trust” any of the people that I really and truly trust? And the answer is my own fear of vulnerability. I don’t want to ask. I fear having to ever own that there are some days I’m a hot mess on the inside.

Of course this is all thankfully hypothetical but also represents my ongoing battle with over-preparing for life. It’s not just now. I can think back to when I climbed mountains and I would check the packing list over and over so that I wouldn’t have to ask anyone to borrow anything. Or sleep with my contacts in so I wouldn’t be late to tie into the rope team when we’d leave for our final summit bid in the middle of the night.

When I really dig deep, I see that I trust my spiritual guides like my dad and God much more than I do living people. Because I don’t have to ask out loud!

When it comes to trust falls, I think it is far easier to be the person catching than the person falling. Unless you are a 6-year-old and then you love doing the falling. But if I remember correctly from the group building exercises I’ve done in the past, you have to both do the falling and the catching.

A good reminder that we have to practice vulnerability. So I’ll go first. I started blogging regularly because working remotely and being a parent means that I don’t have enough conversations with adults that go deep. That leaves me feeling this weird kind of loneliness that isn’t bored or even unhappy but just scared I’m missing the point.  So I write but I don’t advertise this to anyone outside the blogging community just in case I’m overreaching. But I aspire to one day own all of me and to know the power of doing so.

Whoa! That was scary. But I’ll catch you if you want to take a turn!

Practicing Gratitude

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“The more grateful I am, the more beauty I see.” – Mary Davis

Yesterday I my daughter and her friend wanted to ride their bikes to school. So I loaded up my toddler on the back of my bike, threw my mask and wallet in a small backpack and shepherded them through the route we’d planned. After we dropped them off, I rode my toddler the rest of the way to his daycare.

After coming back home and finishing the essential work items I needed to get done, I drove to the store to do the weekend grocery shopping. I loaded my basket with all sorts of yummy fall weekend ingredients – for pumpkin bread, homemade chicken soup along with crisp, juicy apples and crunchy green grapes. I opted for the self-checkout line, scanned the bottle of wine I’d selected as my first item and then hunted in my purse for my wallet to show the attendant.

I didn’t have my wallet. It was still in the bike riding backpack.

As I drove the 7 minutes home to get it while my groceries waited patiently with the attendant, I was grateful that I had enough time to do the extra trip back and forth in a quiet car that felt like a driving meditation.

As I drove the 7 minutes back to the store, I was grateful that the wine was the first thing I’d scanned.

And when I arrived back at the store, I was grateful that the basket of items that I’d carefully selected was still waiting for me.

It’s true what they say, practicing gratitude makes it easier to find, even when you’ve forgotten the other things you need.

Betrayal and Forgiveness

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“True forgiveness is when you can say, ‘Thank you for that experience.‘” – Oprah Winfrey

My daughter’s 7-year-old friend came over the other day with the news that their former au pair had betrayed them (her words). The gist of the story was that au pair had agreed to stay with the kids for a weekend and then backed out. Our young friend said that her parents had found someone else to stay with the kids while they travel leaving only the feeling of betrayal to somehow process.

That word, betrayal, always reminds me of my ex-husband. Because when his friend and my business partner told me of my husband’s infidelities, my husband at the time felt so betrayed because his friend told me. And the more he declaimed it, the more embedded I felt in his betrayal of me and our wedding vows.

In this circular pattern of pain and distrust, there seemed to be no way out. I couldn’t get any resolution of what had happened because every time we touched on it, even in counseling, it just triggered my ex-husband’s feeling of betrayal. He could bring more dramatic outrage to the table so I always ended up bottling it up in a misguided effort to make it stop. When we finally divorced, I was so relieved that cycle was over.

But it left me having to forgive my ex-husband without any satisfying resolution about what had happened. Which was even harder work. Our wisdom traditions talk about the power and necessity of forgiveness. Growing up as a pastor’s kid, it was like the bread and butter of our family. Knowing that and wanting it, I still had to find out my way of actually forgiving. I was like a goat tethered to a stake always covering the same ground until I did.

In the end, I discovered meditation as a way to lean in to the mess of it all and develop a bigger perspective. That is when I finally figured out how to forgive. The pain of betrayal led me to the life of meditation and perspective. Which has then gone on to give so many more gifts of faith, confidence and personal belonging that allowed me to choose to have kids on my own. Looking back, I have never been so glad for the gift of pain leading me to the richness of life.

I know forgiveness is extremely hard to do when we feel like keep the wound open provides evidence that we were the injured party. I recently read a quote by Henri Nouwen, “Your future depends on how you decide to remember your past.” In that passage, he was talking to himself but the Truth of it brought tears to my eyes.

Watching my daughter’s friend as she told me the story, I could see her rewriting her history of the 18 months the au pair lived with and cared for her based on this last interaction. If I could amend Henri Nouwen’s Truth slightly, I’d add that “Your kids future also depends on how you decide to remember your past.”

Receiving Pain

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“Only love, with no thought of return, can soften the point of suffering.” – Mark Nepo

When I trimmed my 2-year-old son’s hair recently, he’s started saying “Ow” with each snip. I checked to make sure I wasn’t pulling his hair or in any way touching his head with the tip of the scissors and continued. And he kept saying, “Ow.” It was possible he was the first person I’ve ever heard of to have feeling in his hair but his body language and smile told me it was more likely he was saying something that got a reaction.

But it brought to mind for me all the different ways I’ve received other people’s pain. I’ve dismissed it as not as bad as they are reporting. I’ve wondered when they will get over it. I have compared it (both inwardly and outwardly) as not as bad as something I’ve experienced. And I can report that none of these methods are helpful. The only way that I’ve found to bear witness to pain and to help alleviate suffering is to believe that every word they say is true and to listen as they process their story.

This makes me think of a winter climb I once did on Mt. Whitney with a good friend about 3 months after her boyfriend died of cancer. He’d been cremated and she was climbing with him in a little urn attached to her pack. She kept on mentioning Rick to the other people in the group we were climbing with, none of whom knew us from before the trip. And because she was talking about Rick as if he was with us (and I suppose he was if you counted the urn), they would get a pretty confused look on their faces and eventually take me aside to ask me who Rick was. But it was a group of really nice people who let her talk and talk and talk about him. We were slogging in thigh deep snow up the side of the mountain and had days to listen.  It was like an extreme walking meditation.

After a while, I thought we’d heard enough about Rick. I fortunately never said anything. Because it wasn’t until my dad died that I understood that the telling of the story of his sudden death in a bike accident and talking about what an amazing person he was were both such healing ways to help process the surprise of finding him gone.

So I’ve adopted some of my dad’s wisdom. As a retired pastor, he often was asked by friends, mentees and former parishioners to go to coffee for advice or to air the pain of living. And if you asked him how it went, he’d smile kindly and say, “Mostly I listened.”

My kids give me lots of opportunities to practice to listen to their pains and I do my best to calmly bear witness, not lecture about safety (at that moment at least) and just slather them with love. As I cut my son’s hair and he giggled and said “ow,” I started narrating that he was the bravest person on earth to get his hair cut. In that way, we made it through together!

Foreshadowing

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“Where there is love, there is life.” – Mahatma Gandhi

My dear friend Katie came to pick up her dog and as the kids ran around and showed her how well they took care of the dog she looked at me and said, “I’ll call to update you tomorrow.”

Which was weird because she was standing right in front of me. Update me about what?

Then she called to tell me that her wonderful mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. In an ironic conversation, she said that her mom called to tell Katie that something was going on with her and when Katie gently prompted, “What’s going on, Mom?” She said, “I have something but I can’t remember what the name of it is.” Until Katie’s sister that was sitting next to her mom reminded her it was Alzheimer’s.

Katie was the first person that I called when I found out my dad died in a biking accident so we’ve shared these hard milestones of life before. When I was a senior in high school, I lived with Katie and her family when my parents moved across the state so my dad could take on a new job. Katie’s gentle and loving mom, Connie, shared their family traditions with me, bought me matching socks for Valentine’s Day and helped me get dressed for Prom. Her mom is in many ways my second mom.

As Katie and I cried on the phone, I thought about foreshadowing. Which is great for fiction but seems tortuous in life.

When I visited Katie’s parents this summer, they were doing great. It was clear Connie was losing her memory but especially because of her gracious social skills and the way she and her husband of 60 years work together, it isn’t really noticeable as a problem. Her 82-year-old body is still strong and the love and joy she emanates is as powerful as ever.

So we were crying over the fact that we will lose her and it seems more dire today than it did yesterday because there’s a word attached. And that word brings with it a lot of connotations of loss and sadness before the person dies. All of a sudden we started leaving today to imagine the future.

We did our best to return what’s going on now. Connie went fishing with her husband, daughters and son-in-laws last week and Katie and her daughter are going to visit her next week. Then Katie’s parents are off for a road trip south.

If one of these days Connie doesn’t remember the past, at least we can all be with her in the present instead of borrowing trouble and worrying about the future.