Tag: grace

Backing Up My Assumptions

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“You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” – Buddha

Last week I experienced the digital version of having to evacuate the house. My beloved laptop stopped being able to connect to AC power. It’s been touchy for a couple of years so I’d been putting the plug in a certain way and then jiggling it until the red light came on. And then it stopped being able to charge at all.

So I had to grab everything I needed in the span of the power remaining on the battery.

In theory, this should be no problem. I back everything up to the Cloud. In practice, I like to put things in places that aren’t backed up and think I’ll organize them later.

I closed my laptop (to save battery, of course) and thought about it. The first list of things I came up with were the things I needed in the short term. It felt like this was the equivalent of getting my family out of the house in the case of an emergency. Pretty obvious what to grab and the high-level “go bag” I’d prepared helped make me efficient.

But then the next list of things were the precious things in case I couldn’t get my laptop back. These were the digital version of grabbing the baby books and my dad’s lucky baseball mitt before running out the front door.

At this point I was pretty sure I could live with what I had and just needed to spend the time to rebuild my old laptop for what I needed to get done. This is the step where I learned the most because I started making mistakes. I flubbed a post, called someone by the wrong name, and didn’t have time to double-check details.

I ran smack-dab into my assumption that even in the case of disruption, I should be able to get operate like it’s business as usual. Sure, I can rebuild a laptop, stop by the repair shop and still get Miss O to the orthodontist, make all our classes and activities, and just do meetings in the car. <eye roll> Dang, my face still hurts from hitting that metaphorical wall.

The good news is that I got the laptop to the shop with enough battery power remaining that they could get the encryption key they needed in order to fix it. I’ll be back to full power in a couple of weeks. But more lastingly, I learned that in order to give other people grace, I need to learn to give myself some too.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast celebrates the art of teaching, learning, giving, and growing.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Flipping the Script So We’re Not Parked In Our Small Spaces

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“The more spacious and larger our fundamental nature, the more bearable the pains in living.” – Wayne Muller

The headlines from the news this week included a 6-year-old and her parents getting shot after a ball rolled into someone else’s yard, a cheerleader shot after realizing she had gone to the wrong car in a parking lot and trying to apologize, a teenager shot after pulling into the wrong driveway, another teenager (thankfully) healing after being shot when he went to the wrong address to pick up his siblings, a passenger on an airplane losing his cool over a crying baby.

Holy smokes – it just sounds like everyone is sitting a state of pain and fear just waiting to be lit up like a powder keg! That list makes me think of what happens when we get “parked in our small space” as my meditation teacher, Deirdre, describes. The state of being when everything and anything triggers us because we are already highly activated.

It goes without saying that most of us don’t react in any of the ways listed in the stories above. But I’ll speak personally to say that even when I keep my mouth shut and don’t show a surface reaction, being parked in my small space feels awful as I mutter obscenities in my head.

As opposed to when I’m feeling expansive and not only can I absorb the indignities of living but also I can even sometimes sit with others in their pain to help regulate their load. The small space/expansive state reminds me of a great story from the Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo:

“An aging Hindu master grew tired of his apprentice complaining, and so, one morning, sent him for some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master instructed the unhappy young man to put a handful of salt in a glass of water and then to drink it.

‘How does it taste?’ the master asked.

‘Bitter,’ spit the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the handful of salt and put it in the lake. The two walked in silence to the nearby lake, and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, ‘Now drink from the lake.’

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, ‘How does it taste?’

‘Fresh,’ remarked the apprentice.

‘Do you taste the salt?’ asked the master.

‘No,’ said the young man.

At this the master sat beside this serious young man who so reminded him of himself and took his hands, offering, ‘The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things…Stop being a glass. Become a lake.'”

The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo

When we flip our script and access our big space, everything seems less bitter. And we might even be able to help others flip their scripts as well. Or at the very least, not make it worse.

In the latest episode of Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, I talk with my meditation teacher, Deirdre, about how to flip the script on small spaces so that we can thrive in the big spaces of empowerment. We also dig into holding space – how to sit with others in their pain and discomfort. We talk about breathing – inspired by Patti’s comment on the last podcast and her suggestion of the song “Breathe” by Anna Nalik.

If you need an antidote from the news, or just even want the calm balm of Deirdre’s voice and wisdom, I know you’ll love this episode.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts or click here to listen to the podcast on Anchor: Episode 14: Holding Space with Deirdre Wilcox

And here are the show notes on the Heart of the Matter site: Episode 14 show notes

Spilled Milk

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“Challenges are what make life interesting and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.” – Joshua J. Marine

Can we talk about spilled milk? I completely believe, “No crying over spilled milk.” When my kids spill milk – no problem. But when I spill milk, I have a much harder time finding graciousness. The other morning I spilled a glass that I had just filled before I could get a top on it. I found myself reviewing my rhythm of the morning trying to find what I hadn’t done well enough so that I was in such a hurry and spilled the milk.

Years ago when I read the famed psychiatrist Dr. Scott Peck’s book The Road Less Traveled for the first time, I was captivated by his explanation of the continuum between neurosis and character disorder. If you are neurotic, you tend to take too much responsibility for the events of your life and if you are character disordered, you tend to take too little. The beautiful takeaway quote from that section is, “…the problem of distinguishing what we are and what we are not responsible for in this life is one of the greatest problems of human existence.”

There is no doubt that I exist on the neurotic side of the continuum and having kids has made it more pronounced.

My tendency to take personal (over)responsibility for one has evolved into personal responsibility for three people. If my kids doddle on the way to bed and I don’t manage to get them to bed on time, I believe it’s my fault that they’ll have a poorer shot to have a good day the next day because they aren’t well-rested. There is a whole post I need to write (and read) on shifting that responsibility from me to them as they age.

But it has created a lot of great ground for meditation. Because as I create space to observe my own ego, I have a much better chance of observing when I overreach the boundaries of my responsibility. Sometimes, the milk just spills.

This brings back a poignant conversation I had with my ex-husband about the concept of neurotic vs. character disordered right around the time we were finalizing our divorce. As I explained what Dr. Peck’s long experience and training in psychiatry revealed, he proclaimed himself the only person that is right in the middle with no tendency one way or the other. It seemed his self-awareness could stretch just enough to know that he was not neurotic but couldn’t quite expand far enough to own that he tends to take too little responsibility. It was such a deeply ironic moment — and one that I remember just quietly witnessing because it explained so much.

There is a delightful space that I find now and again where I can just admit, “I spilled the milk” and laugh about it. When I do, I know I’ve found some balance and the milk is just there to help remind me.

(photo from Pexels)

Praying for Rain

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“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.” – Rabindranath Tagore

My friend, Mindy, told me this story about her son when he was about 6 or 7-years-old. It was the beginning of the school year and her son didn’t want to have to sit next to Henry in school. He came up with the idea to pray about it. The next day after her son came home from school, Mindy asked him whether or not he had to sit next to Henry. He replied, “Of course not, I prayed about it.”

I was reminded of this story the other day when my daughter was looking for her kinetic sand and said she’d prayed to God that she’d find it. I knew I’d thrown the kinetic sand out so no praying would help! I threw it out because I’d been praying not to have that stuff all over the floor and I knew how to make that happen. 😊 But it also made me think about my relationship to prayer.

The longer I live the less I know what to pray for. As our overall human and my individual scientific understanding of our world has grown, I’ve found it precludes praying for anything that I know how it works. And the more that I think I’m in control of my life, the less that I pray for things like money or even happiness.

So as I summon my centeredness and quiet as I meditate, I find myself instead praying more for a feeling and connection to the Divine. Praying for a voice that speaks kindness, a heart that serves from its depth and a mind that is childlike enough to search for mystery. I pray for an acceptance of things how they are and eyes to discovery the delight in it all. I pray for arms that are tender enough to hold everyone that I encounter during the day. I pray for ears that are open to listening and a patience to do it without judgment. I pray for a curious nose that can draw me to the sweet smelling things around me. I pray for a feeling of grace so that I face the day from my depths instead of my human fragility. I pray for feet that will guide me to my individual path that I should be walking and the courage to do it.

This weekend my daughter was praying for rain. I thought that one was likely to pan out given the forecast but it turned out that she was praying for rain right at that instant. So I shook the wet tree branch that she and my son were standing under and we laughed and laughed. Then when it really rained, we ran around, jumped in puddles, held our umbrellas upside down and sang. That turned out to be exactly what we all were praying for.

Kiss the Pain Goodbye

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“Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.” – Charles Dickens

We’ve had a seemingly unending string of clear, sunny days here in Seattle so I trundled my kids off to the park yesterday morning. My toddler was on his strider bike, my 1st grader on her bike and I was pushing the stroller in case of any breakdowns, mechanical or otherwise. Because my son is new at the strider bike it took us so long to make it to the park four blocks away that the first thing we did when we arrived is to have snacks. We found a perfectly shady bench on this perfectly sunny morning and I started to unzip the cooler bag. My daughter, wanting to be the first to crack open the bread sticks with cheese dip, pushed off to run around the bikes, slipped and fell, crying out as she hit the ground.

I wasn’t very sympathetic. The thoughts that crossed my mind were that she was being careless and greedy to have the first go at the snacks and this might have been the fourth fall already on a Monday morning, fortunately none of them serious enough to even warrant a mark. But I knew that adding hurt feelings to a hurt knee wasn’t going to help so I didn’t say anything and bundled her up and gave it a kiss.

That’s when the grace of the moment dropped in. I had a split second of understanding that the cry and the wanting to be first was not really from the fall but from holding it together as her brother celebrated his second birthday and got all the presents. And that my reaction was from being tired from hosting the second birthday party the night before so that my impatience and judgment were the side effects of pretending that I wasn’t.

I have no idea why humans are such complicated creatures so that what seems to be happening rarely is. But I suspect it is so that we are lured to look deeper. It brings to mind the Buddhist tonglen meditation where you breathe in the pain of those around you and breathe out relief. I find that even when I don’t yet know the true cry of the hurt, it still works. I’m starting to think that maybe that’s why mamas have kissed skinned knees for generations upon generations – so they have a moment to breathe out relief and keep their mouths shut. I found that it works because things are as rarely as perfectly sunny as they seem.

God Bless You

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“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.” – Mahatma Gandhi

I don’t know what is in the air but it’s making me sneeze. But yesterday I had to drive my toddler to the very first birthday party he’s ever been invited to on a farm an hour from our house, I didn’t take any allergy medicine just in case it would make me sleepy. We had a great time at the party but whatever it is got worse so by the time we got home, I was sneezing non-stop. Achoo, achoo, achoo. My kids think it’s funny and maybe it was fine for the first 100 but by the 101st, I was tired of it. Finally, I took an allergy pill.

I tend not to tell my kids when I’m not feeling well. I guess I think they can’t do anything about it, it’s not their problem… <snort> until it is because I’ve got a fraction of my patience and am swimming in the shallow end of my grace pool. But last night, I did tell them as I went to lay on the couch for a minute, the Benadryl made me drowsy.

Their reaction was fascinating. They tried to help. My 5-year-old daughter took off my shoes and covered me with a blanket. My toddler son followed his sister’s cue and piled on whatever he could find on the floor, which these days is a lot of stuff, and then sat on me. Not particularly helpful but very amusing. And he tried to say, “God Bless You” which came out sounding a little like a sneeze itself.

Yet another little lesson for me not to keep my inner world and my outer world so separate. Somehow in the communicating of how I’m really doing, life continues but just a little more authentically, humorously and with a little less effort. Not to mention it’s hard to keep anything to yourself when you are violently sneezing… achoo!😊