Tag: renewal

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

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“Faith and prayer both are invisible but they make impossible things possible.” – unknown

About a dozen years ago, a good friend told me a story about her son who was about seven or eight-years-old at the time. Their neighbor’s dog had gone missing and her son was worried. So they looked everywhere they could think of. When they didn’t find the dog, they went home and said a prayer for its safe return. By the next morning, the dog had returned home.

Shortly after, her son was worried about getting a new class seating assignment. He didn’t want to have to sit next to a particular kid. So he prayed about it before he went to bed.

When he came home from school the next day, his mom asked him about the seating arrangement. Did he have to sit next to the kid he didn’t want?

Her son answered, “Of course not. I prayed about it.”

Ah, the wisdom of kids.

I love the time talking with my kids right before bedtime. They snuggle in to bed, we talk about the highs and lows of the day, and if there is a nagging worry or hurt, it usually comes tumbling out.

Then we pray, I kiss them goodnight and turn off the light. Rarely does a worry persist to the morning. They turn it over to a Higher Power and then let it go.

Of course they have smaller worries – but they also have a good practice. One that I need to remember for myself.

We need to empty our cups before we fill them.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Creative Restoration aka Mouping

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“Creativity is the power to connect the seemingly unconnected.” – William Plomer

By the time my kids went back to school on Tuesday of this week, we’d been together for 11 days. Christmas, New Year, a few days at an AirBnB on the coast – all great things. But I imagine like a lot of people, the days without a predictable rhythm, rich foods to eat, and special events have left their mark. The house is a mess, my body is out of whack, and my mind needs some help settling down.

I have a young friend, Alia, who told me she made up a name for creative restoration – mouping. When she’s mouping, she’s drawing, crocheting or doing something else creative but also a little mindless and repetitive.

It reminds me of the advice that scrolling social media is not restorative (why is it that I have such trouble putting the phone down?). But doing something like coloring or my recent favorite, glass mosaics, feels to me much more therapeutic.

Trying to connect the dots on why this might be makes me think of something I learned from Brené Brown: “unexpressed creativity is not benign – it’s malignant.”

Here’s one of the points the Brené makes about what she’s learned about creativity from her research:

“If we want to make meaning, we need to make art. Cook, write, draw, doodle, paint, scrapbook, take pictures, collage, knit, rebuild an engine, sculpt, dance, decorate, act sing – it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re creating, we’re cultivating meaning.”

Brené Brown in The Gifts of Imperfection

When I’m in the rush of the holidays, I am spending my time interacting with others at best, and reacting to others at the most exhausting points. But mouping feels like changing the rhythm — moving from ping pong to tai chi. It’s reestablishing the flow of life and balance that exists within me that I’ve suppressed when surrounded by others.

Alia texted me her explanation, “It’s one of my favorite things I’ve done for myself. It doesn’t mean I’m just hanging out when I could be doing other things but is dedicated time to recharging bc that time is just as necessary for me as checking things off a list is. 😊”

I have to say that I’m impressed she’s figured this out at 23-years-old (and actually she started mouping as a teenager) because I’m just now putting my finger on what really works to help renew me. Even Brené didn’t figure it out til she was in her 40’s.

But whenever we figure it out, it’s helpful to know that time mouping is not frivolous but something that helps us cultivate meaning.

Tent Associations

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“And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” – John Muir

When my daughter told my mom’s 83-year-old gentleman friend that we were going to camp out in the backyard this weekend, he turned to me and said, “After I got out of the army, I told myself I’d never spend another night in a tent.” It seemed like a reasonable vow for him.

My friend, Phil, who was the first American to climb the north side of Everest quips that bivouac is French for mistake. It isn’t – it’s derived from a French word that means “by guard” according to Merriam Webster but since Phil had to once bivouac high up on Everest, he’s earned the right to that joke.

My association with tents comes from the first time I spent an extended amount of time in them. It was 5-week trip through Ecuador I did in college with a group. We lugged the tents up there in our backpacks and then huddled in them to stave off the cold of the Andes. I remember one of my tentmates, Ted, retelling the entire movie of Dead Calm with no interruption since we had nothing else to do. Then we sweltered in the humidity of the Amazon jungle in tents where we squished ants and spiders and talked about our dreams of what we’d be when we were full-fledged adults. I can still replay my tentmate, Lisa, talking at length of how great an ice cube would feel sliding over her forehead. We’d take to our tents every afternoon on a beach near the Galapagos that had no shade and told stories about things we’d seen on the trip.

So for me, tents are not only a base for adventure but also a safe place to lie on your back and just listen. Listen to your tentmates, listen to the wind and the rain on the nylon, listen to your heart beat in a new place where nothing is familiar.  To me they smell like hard work, feel like closeness, look like a kaleidoscope view of the world outside them, taste like crappy food that you are just so grateful to be eating and sound like everything you can’t hear when you are too close to life as usual.

No wonder I’m excited about back yard camping with my little ones even though the ground feels a little harder than when I was young. It was hard to go to sleep with all the excitement and the steady rain on the tent and we only made it til 4:20am and the birds woke us up. And maybe they’ll need their own adventures before we’ll really know but I can’t wait to find out what they associate a tent with!

How about you – how do you feel about tents?

The Threshold to Love

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“The best way out is always through.” – Robert Frost

I’ve been divorced for 10 years and a single parent now for 6 and a half years. I’ve written about the reason I didn’t have kids when I was married and instead chose to do it on my own. Since I went into this phase of my life choosing to be single, I think it’s largely exceeded my expectations. Although there are tough moments, it’s been incredibly joyful for most of the time and I’m grateful for all the people around me that provide encouragement and support.

I’ve always thought that I would circle back around to dating at some point. This pandemic has shown me again and again that my optimism makes me a terrible prognosticator but I still believe I will end up with the love of my love.

The problem is that at a base level I don’t believe that adding a man to my life will improve it. Intellectually I know this to be a result of having a crappy husband the first time around. I don’t think his infidelities hang me up much. The fear is more based on the give/take of our relationship. As my gentle father put it when I finally got divorced, “he loved to BE loved.” Perhaps we were just mismatched but I could never make him feel loved or secure enough, and I exhausted myself trying.

So, I have this threshold between me and my future that I need to cross. It is returning to the belief that I held before I was married that romantic relationships can be life-giving and refreshing. That belief is one that I embody in all my other relationships but have taken a step back from when it comes to love. And as much time as I spend analyzing it, writing about it, knowing it, it is just dancing in front of the door without stepping a toe over.

It is one reason that my breath was taken away when I read this quote by Henri Nouwen’s, “The future depends on how you remember your past.” I know it isn’t just me that needs to do the work of genuine risk to face the thresholds installed by the pain of the past. As the Robert Frost quote at the top of this post says, the only way out is through.

So I take a deep breath in and thank my ex-husband for preparing me to love these two children. They at many times need as much care as he did but show great promise of growing out of it. And then I breathe out the fear of a relationship that only withdraws from me and never gives. When I do this over and over, I prepare myself to walk through that doorway into the possibility of love once again.

(featured photo from Pexels)

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)

A Safe Place

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“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh!’ he whispered. ‘Yes, Piglet?’ ‘Nothing’ said Piglet taking Pooh’s paw, ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’ “ – A. A. Milne from The House at Pooh Corner

The other day I picked my son up from preschool and my daughter from spending an afternoon with my mom and from the instant we were in the car together, the fussing started. My daughter was covering my son’s eyes and he didn’t like that, she didn’t like her attempts at play not being well received and the crabbiness mushroomed from there.

As a mom with two young kids, I’ve thought a lot about being someone’s safe place. My kids fuss, fret and freely object with me in a way that they don’t with anyone else. Often it’s after they have been somewhere else and behaved marvelously according the reports I get, that they fuss the most. It’s as if holding themselves together comes with this letting down of the hair with me. I’m pretty patient but whining gets my goat. I don’t whine (not out loud at least) and I hate (thinking about whether there is a less potent word to be used here but nope, hate is accurate) when my kids whine. Crying, having a fit, objecting strongly – all of that I can handle but whining, especially symphonic whining that moves from one kid to the next and ARGH!!

It’s the idea of being someone’s safe place that both fascinates and saves me. In a world where it’s not possible to be happy all the time but not acceptable to express anything but happiness, safe places are where we get to act out that shadow side. Our safe people are the ones who can help us process the grime that collects during the day and practice shaking it off, sometimes by creating friction and rubbing up against others who help us shine again.

When my daughter was about 3-years-old she became very interested in the Narrator in the Winnie-the-Pooh chronicles. She wanted to know who the voice was that was providing context and integrating the story. She’d want me to pretend I had a microphone and narrate her activities. I’ve come to think of being my kid’s safe place like being that personal narrator – someone who helps them understand the bigger story around the things they are seeing and learning when out and about in the world. Someone who helps them figure out how they are feeling and reacting to it all.

Once I learned from Mark Nepo that the German root of the word friendship means place of high safety it changed how I think of that hallowed ground between friends. Because I believe we do the same thing for our friends that I do for my kids – we help each other work out our stories. We listen to the bumps, bruises, moments of awe and renewal again and again if necessary until we work out our narratives.

When I see it that way, I feel less abused by the acting out. While I’d prefer that I bring out the best in my kids, I can handle when it seems I bring out their worst. I can find grace for the fact that I’m allowing the authenticity of my kids to show and opening the opportunity to talk about our values, respect for others and ways of handling things when we are overloaded with information and activity. And when I sometimes growl, “Stop whining” which isn’t my best either I’m glad I get to work that out in my safe space too.

Cultivating Play and Rest

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“Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” – Albert Einstein

Yesterday my sister-in-law took my daughter for the day and my son was in daycare, I had an entire day to myself. This is so rare, especially since COVID came and we have all been packed into the house on most days. I’ve had a few hours here and there but a whole day?? Of course I needed to work, the house was a mess and I had a to-do list as long as my arm so I was far from bored but the real question was, did I know what refills my cup?

Brené Brown has been doing this podcast series on The Gifts of Imperfection as it’s the 10 year anniversary of that book. And there is a particular guidepost in it “Cultivating Play and Rest – letting go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self-worth.” It was a reference that Brené made in a podcast to this guidepost and the work of Dr. Stuart Brown, psychiatrist, clinical researcher and founder of the National Institute for Play, that got me interested to read the Gifts of Imperfection in the first place. That to be whole-hearted, that is to say, fully awake and involved in life, we need to play.

My first thought when hearing about cultivating play was that I am a mother of young children, I should be all about play. My second thought was I have no idea what play is for me anymore. When I got my first night off from parenting when my daughter was about two years-old, I went out to drink wine with a friend. It was fine but I ended up feeling like I wasted that precious time. The second time I had an overnight break from parenting was when my daughter was three years-old and I went on a meditation retreat. It was so lovely to eat organic food, do yoga, meditate and cut out pictures for my vision journal. It really worked to refill my cup but isn’t very practical to do very often. The same goes for hiking which is my all-time go-to for refilling my cup but often takes too much time driving to do on these rare days off.

Here’s what I’m slowly realizing about cultivating play and rest for me. I know I’m still learning because I’m trying to be the most productive at rest. 🙂 But with that said, rest for me always involves some combination of reading, writing and exercise. Being quiet including turning off extraneous noise like the tv in the background is important. I never clean my house when my kids are gone unless it’s part of tackling a project that is fun for me. I try to reach out to at least one person that is key to my health and sanity. And when I’m very lucky, I go to a rarely visited neighborhood and find a place to eat lunch with a book.

Last night when my kids were returned to me, I listened to their reports from the day and we galivanted around the neighborhood and talked with neighbors, I felt like a new (renewed?) person. Someone who had a refilled cup to share with everyone else.

Vacation

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“Another name for God is surprise,” – Brother David Steindl-Rast

Twenty years ago my friend Jill and I were looking for something to do for a vacation and considered going to a spa in Arizona but as lovely as the hiking, yoga and pilates schedule and menu sounded, we never could pull the trigger. We thought we’d get bored. Instead signed up for a trip to climb two Mexican volanoes, Mt. Ixtacchuatl (17,200 feet) and Pico de Orizaba (18,500 feet). While I already summitted Mt. Rainier (14,400 feet) once (as had Jill) on my second attempt, that was in my backyard since it was 60 miles southeast of Seattle where I live. This trip was the start of what I came to think of as vacations in my early adulthood. I’d sign up for a trip, usually with a friend or two to climb something as time and budget allowed. It was how I saw Russia, Nepal and Peru when I was single – usually dirty, tired and out of breath but so delighted for the change of perspective and chance to adventure.

Now I’m redefining what vacation means as a mom with two young kids. Our range is a lot closer to home and my budget is a lot tighter so we’ve tried a few things pretty close to home. The first trip we tried was six hours by car – that was too far as I can feel all you experienced parents inclining your heads in agreement. The second trip was eight hours by boat but a big boat that we could move around on. Better because the boat was an adventure in and of itself but we came home a little stunned from all the pounding through water. This weekend we went with a friend to a AirBnB cabin on Whidbey Island about an hour and half trip from our house. Better yet!

But regardless of how we have gotten to our destinations, I’m fascinated by how the kids take it in. They get to the new environment, and then regardless of what is outside, explore every nook and cranny of the temporary quarters.  In the first place we rented, they seemed to have a plethora of toilet cleaning brushes and my toddler discovered each one and wanted to carry each one around until I confiscated them. Nothing is familiar so it seems the kids spend a lot of energy mapping out their new world as I follow along making sure it’s safe.

Then come the new activities – beach combing, swimming in the pool, finding new playgrounds. Everything, even if it’s an activity that we’ve done at home, seems more adventurous. If it’s a beach like it was this weekend, it seems to come with cataloging it as a new entry of what a beach looks like – more sandy, less rocky, more sea life, less driftwood. My five-year-old daughter ran through every tide pool with her arms outstretched yesterday in a glorious expression of taking it in.

So eating and sleeping become huge issues. They seem to consume massive amounts of food to support all the novelty. Going out to eat is not only new because they are places we haven’t gone before but also because we haven’t done it much during COVID. There is a dichotomy of wanting to have the staples I’ve brought from home as one form of familiarity and willingness to try something new since everything else is new. Sleep, I’ve learned is much harder if we all try to do it in one room. WAY too exciting when it’s WAY too necessary.

I come to the end of each time away absolutely exhausted. This is where I have had to redefine what vacation means to me. It certainly isn’t less work. It’s definitely less predictable. But now I see that’s part of the joy – to find the Universal where we go. Somehow God makes it so that by switching everything up, we are renewed in our life together.

I’ve realized that I never liked vacation where I just sat around and thank goodness, because that doesn’t seems to be part of this new era. And I’ve found in another way, it’s like my mountain climbing vacations – I’m usually dirty, tired and out of breath but also delighted for the change of perspective and chance to adventure, this time seeing the world… through the eyes of my children.

Renewal Isn’t Just for Spring

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“When you are finished changing, you are finished.” – Benjamin Franklin

I was talking with a friend who is having a hiccup in a long-standing relationship she has with some friends, a couple. We were talking about what was frustrating her and how she views them and their history and it seemed clear to me as an outsider that there was a different way to see it. She decided that there were two ways she could proceed, do nothing and trust that God would help work it out or to speak up and say something, though she wasn’t quite sure what. I asked her if she felt like the relationship needed to change even if it was her that had to change, maybe just by seeing them differently? She wasn’t sure.

Which I think was a fair answer but it made me wonder, when do we say “yes” to change? I think back to long before I had kids, when I was married and was dying in a relationship with someone who needed a lot of care but gave very little back. And still, I was hanging in there until someone told me of his infidelities and it all blew up. Best thing that ever happened to me. But, why was I unwilling or unable to make a change before then even though I knew I was unhappy was largely about not wanting to break my word.

Recently I read a blog post by Rebecca that told of her experience of being laid off after more than 30 years when COVID hit. She walked through the dismay and disbelief that this happened and then she did the work to reframe it as best thing that could have happened to her. Is it loyalty that keeps us from changing before it’s foisted on us?

I assume that we aren’t in charge of the big seismic shifts that happen to us. They come along to blast us out of our ruts when we’re in too deep. So instead I’ve been working on recognizing that everything is seasonal. If I like something, perhaps the way my baby runs to me for reassurance when he hears a loud sound, that’s great but it’ll change. And if I don’t like something like how hard it is to clip the baby’s fingernails, that’s also okay because it’ll change. I look outside and watch my yard grow, bloom and shed and try to stay soft.

We can embrace renewal from within or be eroded by change from the outside. In my lifetime, both have and will continue to happen and what I’m finally realizing is that the benefit of embracing it is that it’s a lot more graceful. The flexibility that I am trying to practice on little changes helps keep me from stiffly falling over when the big changes come. Talking through this with my friend helped me see this in my experience of relationships as well. Planting that seed with her, the idea that change is always happening, helped her see it a little differently and she found the words she needed to say to be a part of where’s it’s going. That inspired me to see her differently and so the renewal grows and grows!