On Peace and Forgiveness

Posted on December 23, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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This holiday season we greet strangers with softness and compassion, “Happy holidays!” we say. “May your holiday season be filled with love, happiness, and peace!” we bestow upon friends and family.

Love, we know what loves is. We know how love feels. Happiness, we know what happiness is. We know how happiness feels. Peace. Peace feels calm, content. But what is peace? When we wish loved ones peace, what are we really hoping for them?

I think it’s hoping they find forgiveness and acceptance. Forgiving is about letting go of the hope you have for a better past, for a different past. It’s about letting go of the hope for a different ending. Peace lives in the space where you accept your past for what it is, and the space where you stop trying to rewrite your history, your truth.

Peace is about forgiving someone for not being the person you wanted or expected him to be. Peace lives in the space where you let go of your expectations for someone to change. Peace lives in the acceptance of this person, as-is–lumps, bumps, crack and bruises. Peace acknowledges life isn’t fair, and it’s not a matter of fairness anyway.

Peace and forgiveness does not mean agreeing that someone’s wrongs were in fact right or justified or acceptable. It does not mean you need to continue to accept the same behaviors from the person. But it does mean looking at all the transgressions, holding them ,examining them, and nodding your head “yes.” Here they are. Here is the cheating, the abandonment, the temper, the neglect, the lying, the abuse. Yes. Acknowledge these wrongs you’re holding.

And then put them down. Put them down and nod again, “Yes.” And then walk away. There is the wise saying of “Not forgiving someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” This is Truth too.

Forgiving someone does not negate or minimize your pain, your losses. It does not mitigate the betrayal, the abandonment. It does however take good care of yourself; forgiving someone is compassionate self-care, and is selfish in this way. In that it provides peace. It allows you to move forward and live a full life, instead of drinking your own poison and dying slowly.

But see, it’s hard for people to forgive. We hold on to the anger, we think if only…If only the person apologized, made amends, acknowledged the wrong. Perhaps even offered an explanation. We hold on to that anger hoping to leverage it for a more deserving ending–the person to offer restitution or begging for forgiveness. We want them to make things right.

Interestingly, a secondary definition of forgiveness is to stop requiring payment of money that is owed. Making someone pay–that’s part of holding on to anger. But see, the transgressor is not issuing a replay of a life that was wronged with different behaviors. He can never change the past. He can never pay you back. He can never give you want you want. Because what has transpired is gone. Done. Peace lives in accepting you will never be paid back.

And you didn’t deserve to be wronged. And we cannot determine if the transgressor deserves your forgiveness. Because it’s not about anyone deserving things, it’s not about worthiness. It’s about accepting these horrible things happened. I’m so sorry. But it’s happened.

That anger and resentment and bitterness, it doesn’t do a damned thing to the transgressor. It does however keep you in the past. As we step into a new year, I implore you not to stay in the past. I wish you peace today. I wish you peace in the new year. I wish you peace always.

Posted in Mindfulness, Relationships, religion, spirituality | Tagged , | 3 Comments

Make a Joyful Noise

Posted on December 16, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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I believe God has a sense of humor. Sometimes I think He thinks He’s funny and I respectfully disagree. This happens when one too many things go wrong at once, or when I’m faced with one too many ironies. But I also believe He takes great joy and glee in funny things. I”ve got to believe He laughs at jokes, life’s absurdities, and just funny shit. (How do you make a tissue dance? Put a boogie in it!) Because life is usually so jam packed with serious things, like murders and terrorism and fires and innocent children and men and women devastated by disease or war or weather events. I’ve got to believe He appreciates some good humor.

So I’ve got to think He had a little chuckle with La Chica’s card for a prison ministry project in her religious education program. They told her how and why people care about and minister to prisoners. She nodded solemnly. Then they asked us to make cards for the county’s prisoners. La Chica’s eyes lit up. Glitter glue, foam stickers, gems, markers…it was a veritable crafting wonderland for her. She made cards to let them know that she was thinking of them, that her favorite food was cheese, and that she hoped they had good mac and cheese to eat. She went through two glitter glue pens and a bazillion stickered gems to impart hope and faith to the recipients of her cards.

Then she found this foam sticker, “Make a joyful noise.” So she drew a prisoner being released, shouting “Yay!” at the door that’s labeled “Exit to prison.” I was tickled pink. I had her show the catechist. Because I thought this was so outstanding. So typical of an innocent child who thinks concretely. And so, so funny.

Apparently the catechist did not think this was so outstanding. She did not think this was so funny. She stiffened up and pursed her lips. I said, “Oh come on, we’ll leave the file and shank out of the card.” See, I think I’m pretty funny too. Apparently, she does not. This is when she really glared at us. And made La Chica add “through prayer” to the card after some tsk-tsking.

This is another example of why I don’t feel at home with our parish. Because I shouldn’t be made to feel bad. I believe God is a loving God, and shame isn’t something He doles out with his grace and mercy and love. Because shame is the feeling that there is something inherently wrong or bad about me. Completely different flavor than love and grace and mercy.

I’m reminded of the Living Nativity we attended this holiday season. The homily resonated with me. It was about Jesus’ humanity. That we must remember Jesus took on all of our human weaknesses, other than sin. He took on our humanity. He took on our hunger and anger and fear and suffering and fatigue and grief.

This is important to remember, the homily reminded us, because wherever humanity is found, especially at it’s most vulnerable, that is where God is to be found. And we must continue to seek Him. The flip side of this is that we can become divine if we act and speak as He did. That is where grace is found.

At no point are we supposed to be glaring at children who say the damndest things. At no point are we supposed to make someone feel shame for trying her best. At no point are we supposed to glare in disapproval at life’s ironies.

We are to seek God in our humanity. In our mistakes. In our missteps. In our messy. We are to strive to be grace. In the face of this humanity. It is in these moments we celebrate the gift of grace and mercy in the face of humanity. This holiday season reminds us of this. This is the reminder that we can bedazzle the crap out of our messiness. It is in our messiness that we have the opportunity to both find divinity and be divine.

So in the end, we left the file and shank out of the card. I let go of my irritation for the catechist. La Chica turned in a card she’s thrilled with. We remain with this parish because for now, I’m grateful for the opportunities to practice grace. These are all worth celebrating and making joyful noises. Can I hear a Woot?

Posted in Parenting, religion, spirituality | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Happy Lights

Posted on December 12, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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“Happy holidays,” we wish friends and strangers. Happy. We want to be happy. We want others to be happy. New shoes make me happy. Vodka makes me happy. The beach makes me happy. My kids’ snuggles makes me happy.

But see, I don’t want to be happy. And I don’t want you to be happy. I’m not a Grinch. But I am realistic. Happiness comes and goes. This fleeting pick-me-up feeling comes at the first sip of seasonal Starbucks’ coffee drinks, and lasts only as long as the Venti cup lasts. Possibly even longer as it migrates to my hips.

If we strive for happy, we’re always chasing. Chasing something that isn’t substantial. But if we dig deep and seek joy and contentment, that feeling of being full is long-lasting. This feeling of being filled weaves in and out of life events and daily moments and life’s tragedies and celebrations.

There’s a difference between a satisfied life, and a satisfactory life. I’ve been mindful in the past few years to create a very satisfied life. I fill it with people who make me a kinder, better person. I fill it with activities that feed my soul and challenge me to spend time in discomfort.

Moments of chaos still crop up, stressors and sad things occur. But I’m mindful to juggle people and things each day that each say “Ah!” in my life. So that when I string each of these sacred moments together, it lights up my life with the very deep feeling of being full. Filled. Content. Satisfied in an exhale-and-smile-sort of way.

When I was younger, I lived a very satisfactory life. I was successful in school and in my career. I had friends, had intimate partners, participated in activities, traveled. I did what we’re all supposed to do–held a job, had a car, dressed nicely, exercised, showered daily, went out with friends, had hobbies, stayed out of jail. But it was all just satisfactory. It was “Meh.” which is very different than “Ah.”

I used to have this inner itch, this inner hunger for something more. I felt unsettled. I was seeking something to fill me. Was it another advanced degree? A promotion? A new hobby? A new boyfriend? A bigger city to live in? I reached for them all. And I was still hollow inside.

Until I learned how to be more mindful in my life. Until I learned the difference between happiness and contentment. Until I learned how to say No to things and people that drained me instead of filled me. Until I learned how to be brave and try things that scared me and yet resonated with me. Until I learned to be courageous enough to create real connections with people who teach me to be the kind of person I want to be. Until I learned to stop being concerned about the outcome, and live in the process instead. Until I learned to fill myself from the inside.

So this holiday season, as we string festive lights along the roof tops and around trees, I urge you to take a moment and look at your string of life moments. Does it light up your life? Does it fill you? If not, replace some of those “Meh” lights with “Ah” lights until your string of life shines with joy and contentment. It is each of these decisions every moment of who we choose to share our selves with, what activities we choose to put our selves into, how we share our selves with the world; it is each of these moments each day that create your string of life lights. Be mindful of what wattage of light you shine into this world. Wishing you all a satisfied, content, full life.

Posted in Empowerment, Meditation, Mindfulness | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

Today Is Not the Day

Posted on December 9, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

20141209_131949I write because I need to. Topics come to me, suddenly, and I need to immediately sit and write. It’s like a purge. No, it’s actually more like the sudden realization you MUST pee but you’re not moving on the Jersey Turnpike the day before Thanksgiving, and the next rest stop is 15 miles away. The sudden urge hits you, and you have no other choice but to release. The process of writing for me is just like that, only slightly more graceful. And not as messy.

I share this to say I write because it calls to me. I don’t write for money or for fame or for accolades. A lot of people have said I should write a book. I’m honored they think my writing is of such caliber. But see, I have never wanted to write a book. But as each day passes, I wonder a bit more if I should rethink that. I think maybe I should write a book. Maybe I could write a book. Friends encourage me. I told a friend recently that I toy with the idea, but I don’t want it enough to compile my essays. I don’t want to enough to find an agent. Yet. I said to my friend, “Today is not the day.”

Isn’t that how life works though? Isn’t that how humans behave though? We keep doing the same thing until we don’t. The cost/benefit ratio, the pros/cons list must tip over just enough to warrant action. Until then, status quo.

I’ve come to realize that’s how I live my life the best. I used to worry. A lot. About everything. And by that I mean I was the Queen of Ruminations. Until I started listening to my gut. I learned to sit in the unknown until I knew. I learned to breathe. I learned to trust that I would know. One day. But today was not the day. I learned to trust that life will unfold as it will, regardless of my ruminations. I learned to wait. To trust and breathe and wait. See, miracles do happen.

I remember reading an interview of a trapeze instructor about 10 years ago. Something about it called to me. I tore the article out and placed it on my desk. Every now and then I’d run across it, and think “Today is not the day.” One day, a few years ago, I picked it up. And I knew. Today was the day. I called and reserved a spot in class.

For a year and a half, La Chica and her drum teacher kept telling me I should start drum lessons since I’ve always wanted to play. I kept them at bay–too busy, I said. No, the time was not right. Until one day it was. I walked into her class one day, still as busy as ever, looked at her teacher, and said, “Today is the day.”

I was recently asked to come back and serve on a Board of Directors I was Vice President of a few years ago. Oh how I want to. But I told them, “Today is not the day.” One day it will be. And I’ll know.

A friend recently spent a great deal of time in uncertainty, very ambivalent about what she should do about a relationship. She wanted answers. I told her if she was still uncertain, then today is not the day to do anything. She will know when she knows, one way or another. Wait until then. Allow things to unfold. And sure enough, one day, she knew.

So I’ve come to realize this is how I live my life. By knowing and living “Today is not the day.” Until one day it is. I’ve come to realize that allowing the graceful unfolding of life is sacred for me. I’ve come to realize I still get in my own way at times, and that when I step out of my own way and listen to this inner voice that is actually more of a cosmic voice both outside of me and is me, that is when the magic of life happens.

In fact I’ve come to be grateful for trying times, difficult decisions, uncomfortable uncertainties. Because I know if I trust in knowing “Today is not the day,” that one day it will be. And there will have been growth and depth in that process of waiting and being. And there is so much magic at the end. And that trusting “Today is not the day” also means trusting that one day I will know Today is the day. That, to me, is faith. That the only thing I know for certain, is uncertainty. And that’s not a bad thing.

And one day, if I ever do publish a book, you can say you always knew I would.

Posted in Mindfulness | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Deserving Enough

Posted on December 4, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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I’m a writer because I believe words have meaning. We need to choose and use our words carefully. Words can hurt. Words can heal. And I’m a little grumpy today because I’m tired of all the pithy sayings we throw around carelessly and casually. We say these things without thinking–something akin to answering “Good” when people ask “How are you?” as a greeting. But see, when we hear these pithy sayings, they become ingrained in our psyche and we accept them as truths, oftentimes without even realizing it.

Take for example, a recent blog post about dating not going well. A well-meaning friend commented, “It will happen when you stop trying.” That comment irks me. Because I hear that a lot. And it’s simply not true. In fact, when I stop trying, nothing happens. I stopped looking at online dating site profiles, I stopped responding to messages for a while. And guess what? Nothing happened. I started looking at online dating profiles and interacted with people, and guess what? Two dates that week.

So please stop telling me to stop trying. I understand they mean I ought to not be desperate. But see, I’m not. I can get dates. I can have a relationship. I am in fact so NOT desperate that I don’t want to have a relationship with any of the men I’ve met so far. And let’s be honest. If I wasn’t trying at all, I would be chastised for not putting myself out there. So let’s look at the words we use and just accept that it may or may not happen.

But the other pithy phrase that really pisses me off is “You get what you deserve.” Well, actually, no. You don’t. The young boy does not deserve to be beaten by his step-father. The mother does not deserve to lose her 11-year-old son to cancer. The college student does not deserve to die in a drunk driving accident. The family of four does not deserve to be homeless.

I think the message that we get what we deserve started out with good intentions. I think it started off trying to teach a good work ethic, that working hard and not giving up is worthy. There is a loose correlation between input and output. You put in 110% expecting to be rewarded with kudos, a bonus, a promotion, a book deal.

But see, it’s not a direct correlation. We have all worked our asses off for something, only to be disappointed. We have all discovered life is not fair.

The danger in believing that we get what we deserve is that when we fall upon hard times, or when we’re going through a really rough spot, we are taught to believe we deserve bad things happening to us. So we feel guilt and shame and it’s easy to get stuck in this dark place. When a marriage does not work out, it’s easy to internalize that you are a bad person. When your boyfriend hits you, you believe it was your fault for angering him.

The inverse to this dangerous belief is that if we get what we deserve, we must also earn our worth. This faulty belief is equally as dangerous, if not more so. We internalize the belief that we must be Enough–perfect enough, smart enough, pretty enough, Pinteresty enough, witty enough. But see, we don’t earn our worth, our Enough. We ARE enough.

We don’t get what we deserve. We all deserve unconditional love and grace and mercy and support and loving kindness and compassion. We do however get what we get. And we can either get upset at it, or accept this is how life is. There is no rhyme or reason. It just is. And sometimes it just plain sucks. Sometimes you sing from the treetops. Sometimes you cry in the fetal position under the desk. These things occur, independent of our inherent worth.

I do believe positive outlooks, positive energy, positive interactions in this world leads to generally good things happening, and the inverse of negative world views and negative behaviors tend to result in not such great outcomes. But how we interact with the world and our expectations are very different than worth, than deserving things. Our worth is not measured by life circumstances.

Posted in Empowerment, Mindfulness | Tagged | 16 Comments

Bookmarking Your Life Story

Posted on December 1, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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Guest post from The Boy, age 11.

“If something sad happens, you should always move on. What you shouldn’t do is forget. For example, in a book you place bookmarks where you left off. Think about it like your life is a big book. The sad and happy things are what you bookmark. My friends are moving to North Carolina. They are some of my longest and best friends. I will miss them a lot! I will always remember the happy/fun times we had including the sad. You should always cherish your memories.”

Well I’ll be damned. Love that. How does he know I talk about writing our own stories? I don’t know, but let me tell you, I am so proud of him. I asked him more about this analogy.

He said he bookmarks important parts of the books he reads. So he can go back and re-read them later. To mark them as important. He went on to say we should do that with life, put virtual bookmarks to mark the passage of important events. Sad events, happy events. Anything worth remembering.

He said using these bookmarks are important because you don’t want to stop reading and get stuck. You want to move on and keep reading. So you mark it as important, let it go, and keep going. He said it’s important to let things go so you can keep going on, but know those bookmarks are there when you want to revisit them.

I really love this idea. I want to take it one step further though, to writing our stories. I don’t want to just read my story. I believe we write our own narratives, our own plot lines, our own climaxes and redemptions and endings. I don’t want to get stuck in a sad place. In fact, I don’t want to get stuck in a happy place either. There’s no opportunity for growth then. So bookmarking these events to revisit later, if desired, sounds about right to me. It allows for acceptance and letting go and forward movement.

I’m really looking forward to reading The Boy’s life story as he continues to write and bookmark. I wonder who will play me in the movie version of his book?

 

Posted in Empowerment, Mindfulness, Parenting | Tagged | 6 Comments

Lessons from Marriage & Divorce

Posted on November 24, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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Several different couples I’m friends with are uncoupling right now. They’re at the very beginning of the separation process. It’s got me thinking. Because when I look in their eyes, when I hear their voices, I recognize the fear and sadness that permeates their souls and colors their minutes and future plans and past memories.

They ask me for advice. They ask me for my support. They ask me for reassurance that everything will be ok in the end. I try not to give advice, because their priorities and situations differ from mine. I gently ask them to listen to their own guts, and do the next right thing. I remind them there are no right answers. There is however, a way to do things with kindness and grace. Even when it’s really hard. Even when you don’t want to because it’s so hard. Especially when it’s hard. Especially when you don’t want to.

I remind them of this, because as I witness their journeys, I am brought back to my own separation over seven years ago. I remember the fear and panic and confusion and grief. I remember acting from those fears and panic and grief. And I was not as kind as I could have been, as kind as I should have been.

I was disappointed and wounded and broken and angry. I did not know then that I had a reservoir of grace that I could have tapped into. I also did not know during the marriage that I had this reservoir of grace and mercy and loving kindness. Perhaps I didn’t then. But honestly I think we all have it in ourselves. It was my responsibility to tap into that, and I did not know how at the time. Or it was too hard for me. Or I just didn’t.

So I’m thinking about what I could have done differently during my marriage, during my divorce. I think of both because though they seem to be opposites, they’re in fact both about connections. Divorcing the father of your children does not sever your ties to him. He will always be a part of our lives. He still occupies this house, and I know this when I look into my children’s eyes.

If only I could have been more gracious, more kind, I think. But then what? Would I still be married? Probably not. It was not meant to last for many reasons. I do not regret the divorce. But I do want to ensure I do not make the same mistakes again. I’ll make other mistakes, but not these.

So I’ve learned it’s better to be kind than right. I’ve learned…well, everything else stems from that. It’s better to be kind than right. So many of the small disagreements that pile up like little pebbles until they build a stone wall–so many of them could have been dealt with without turning each pebble into a resentment.

But see, I thought I was so smart. I thought I was so insightful and wise. I thought for sure I knew what was best. I was right. I tried to force things. I made sarcastic and snide remarks under the guise of humor.

There were so many other problems that would have spelled the end of the marriage anyway. But I could have been kinder. For that failing, I am sorry. And I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with a list of 5 lessons I’ve learned. But if your default is “It’s better to be kind than right,” then the love and respect and support and compromise and communication come with it. I’m a slow learner, but I won’t make that same mistake again.

Posted in Empowerment, Mindfulness, Relationships | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments

Saying Good-Bye

Posted on November 19, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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“I don’t know how to say good-bye.”

La Chica writes this in an important note to me about her feelings of her good friends moving away. I don’t blame her. No one knows how to say good-bye. It’s hard and it’s sad. We say good-bye to people when we leave them, or when they leave us. At the end of a party. At the end of a relationship. At the end of a life.

After we say good-bye, life is different. There is a house to clean up in silence after a party. There is an absence in your life after a relationship ends. There is a life to be rebuilt after the death of a loved one.

Not only is life different, but we are different. We had been changed with the connection to someone. And when there is a good-bye, who we are will be different once that person leaves. We may revert back to who we were before, or we may grow further.

There are multiple scenarios of what happens after a good-bye, but the act of ending a connection as you knew it is difficult. Because it’s sad. Because life as you knew it is no more. Because there’s fear in the uncertainty of what lies ahead. Because it can seem scarier and lonelier with one less person by your side.

So oftentimes people don’t say good-bye. They act out to push the other person away first. Or they just slowly and quietly withdraw into the shadows without a word. These are easier alternatives than to say “Good-bye” out loud.

When you say it out loud, you’re acknowledging there is an ending. An ending of some sort that indicates life as you knew it will be different. You’re acknowledging there will be a loss. You’re leaving yourself vulnerable to painful feelings of difficult conversations or uncomfortable moments.

I used to be horrible with saying good-bye. I would patch things together to keep relationships afloat–intimate relationships and friendships. When really, the right thing to do would have been to say Good-bye. That’s hard to do.

So when La Chica wrote this note to me, I was of course sad to see her hurting so. But when I read her heart saying “I don’t know how to say Good-bye,” my heart stopped. Because she just put in words what I never could. Because she knows the other side of connection is the disconnecting. Because it takes courage to say she doesn’t even know how to do this. She doesn’t have any idea what she’s supposed to do with this loss. She knows life as she knows it will be different come Sunday morning. And she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do about it.

She’s asking me to help her navigate the complexities of life. Of learning true friends are always true friends no matter how far away they live, no matter how busy everyone is, no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other last. Of learning that proximity and frequency of someone is not a measure of the connection you have.

She’s giving me an opportunity to teach her that when you are brave enough to truly love someone, that even after a Good-bye, the love remains. Through time the love changes as hearts heal and life continues in the absence. But the love remains in some form. She’s giving me the opportunity to teach her that it’s a beautiful thing.

So I tell her that with these friends, we will always be friends. Because I can have stalker tendencies. I tell her that we are not saying farewell, but that we are saying, “See you soon.” We are saying, “Wishing you best of adventures in your new chapter in life, and we can’t wait to hear all about them soon.” We are saying, “I love you. Always.”

We are saying it is hard to say Good-bye, and we do hard things.

Posted in Empowerment, Mindfulness, Parenting, Relationships | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Making the Band

Posted on November 12, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

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I love being in my band. We’ve only existed for about a month as an entity, but I’m pretty sure they feel the exact opposite about me. It is really hard for them to play a song that’s recognizable when the drummer can’t keep a beat, and slows down and speeds up, and then just fucks up and plays whatever her arms and feet flail to until she calms down.

But they smile at me in my little corner every now and then. That’s got to mean something, right? I’ll tell you what I love about being in this band. We’re strangers with different ability levels, different musical tastes, different ages, different backgrounds, and different personalities. But when we’re in that room together, we all have a common goal, and we try our hardest. We are kind and patient. We connect through the music, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Now I’ll tell you what I hate. I hate Mr. Jones. Someone had the bright idea that playing the Counting Crows’ “Mr. Jones” would be fun. Someone thought it would be a great song to play at our first gig. Let me tell you, that someone was not me. But I’m learning the drummer also gets very little say in matters. Especially if the drummer sucks. I can’t fault them for that.

So there is something about Mr. Jones that just fucks me up. I have spent over 20 hours trying to learn it. But who’s counting? Granted, I’ve come a long way. I am pretty much up to speed now, can mostly play through it, but still mess up, and some grooves are just not quite right yet. My timing is a little off, much like the rest of my life. But apparently in music, that matters a great deal.

At our last band practice, I was very, very anxious. It was not pretty. I was very down on myself about this, because the rest of the band has to speed up or slow down to my beat. That’s a lot of pressure. They’ve all been playing for much longer than I, so I’m already feeling inadequate. I don’t like feeling like I let anyone down, and I don’t want to mess them up. So of course as I’m feeling Not Enough and anxious, I mess up even more.

After practice, we were talking and they assured me I’d be fine by show time. I know that. But I felt foolish and stupid and like I let them down, and like I’m not pulling my own weight. I apologized profusely as I was sweating under the spotlights. Our bassist offered to record us to show us how we really sound.

He told me that the recordings we hear on the radio are really several of a band’s best takes, spliced together. Of course. That musicians usually play slightly different arrangements each time. Of course. That there is no perfect. Of course. That what we hear on the recorded single is not what was actually played in one take. Of course.

Huh. I realized I was under the illusion of Perfect again. Of course. I know women don’t have perfect bodies, we don’t have perfect houses, we don’t have perfect jobs or husbands or kids. But songs? I had no idea those weren’t perfect either. Professional musicians? No clue their playing also was not perfect.

Perspective is everything. I fell into my Not Enough hole. Thank God my bandmates are kind and full of grace. They hugged me and reminded me to have fun. They pointed out that I don’t stop when I mess up and I jump right back in where I’m supposed to, and keep going. They reminded me that’s all you need to do–just don’t give up. Jump back in and keep going. Hello, life lesson.

Let me tell you, this band thing is a big deal for me. Because of my propensity to fall into a Not Enough hole despite my best efforts. Because I have a smidge of social anxiety. Because I hate being the center of attention for anything, much less be on a stage. Because I am an introvert. Because I’ve only been playing for 6 months. Because truly I can’t keep a beat and I can barely count. Because I don’t want to let people down. Because I’ve told everyone and their mother to come see me and I’m highly allergic to failure.

Let me also tell you, none of that is news for me. Those are also the reasons why I’m doing this. Because no matter how badly I suck, I love drumming. I love rising to challenges. I love doing hard things. I love not giving in to my fears. Because I love growth. And truly, this will not kill me, but it will make me stronger. It won’t make me perfect. And I’ve been reminded I don’t want perfect. I want fun. And I can’t think of anything more fun than a drummer that keeps you guessing.

Posted in Empowerment, Mindfulness | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

Life Writing

Posted on November 8, 2014 by bonnevivantelife

20141107_150237There is the theory that artists are a bit mad–that there is a higher preponderance of creativity in those with mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder or depression. That the madness fuels the art.

That may or may not be the case. I’m starting to realize there is another underlying factor that ties good writers together. I’m not talking about famous New York Times bestselling authors. Some of these authors have this bragging right. But I’m talking about good, thoughtful, provocative, nuanced writers. Writers that make you think. Writers that change the way you think. Writers that touch your soul. Writers that change your world. Writers that put words to feelings your gut or heart feel.

These writers are resilient. Oftentimes we hear of humble beginnings, struggles, traumas, chaos in their upbringing. It is these people who overcome tragedies and find meaning in life events and pain and suffering. They carry the wounds softly, and transcend the scars to offer wisdom and compassion and a soft place to land. There is Beauty and Truth in this resiliency of the human spirit.

These writers are Honest in their Truth. They bear their embarrassed, unsure souls to the world. They know that fears grow in the dark shadows, so they turn their soft underbellies bravely to the light to show the world that we all have these similar soft underbellies. These bellies that quake with laughter and shake with sharp sobs and get tied up in knots of anxiety and fear. There is Grace in this authenticity.

These writers are resolved with fortitude to soldier through this hard life. They refuse to stay down because they see the beauty in these lives filled with tears and screams and losses and celebrations. They recognize the healing power of connections, so they use their pains and losses and gains and triumphs to remind us that we are more similar than different.

These writers are wise in understanding that even when they felt so alone at their lowest points, they know they are not alone, we are all here together. This wisdom buoys us when we feel alone and fragile and raw and shaken. These words beckon lonely and broken souls to join in empathy and compassion and a spiritual connection.

One might say it’s pure madness to not connect with grace and beauty. Perhaps the art of life is what keeps us all grounded. And these writers, their brush and canvas are keystrokes and paper. These writers, with their art of transforming pains and sorrows and faults into art. These writers, they own their stories. They live these stories instead of trying to live someone else’s story. Or society’s expectation of the story. I hope to be such a writer when I grow up.

Posted in Mindfulness, spirituality | Tagged , | 6 Comments