I Loooove You…

Posted on October 14, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

Conditions–we place conditions and expectations on our interactions and how we operate interpersonally. We work hard for the expectation of a good salary and kudos. We do a favor expecting and hoping for one returned at a later date. We exchange goods for money or services. When something is offered for free, we either don’t trust it, or we swoon and hoard it even if we don’t need it.

When we witness a Giver, someone who just gives and gives and gives, sometimes we call him a sucker. You know, the person who is always giving their time and money and services. We don’t want to be the person who gets walked all over, taken advantage of.

I used to keep score. One for you, one for me. Gotta be fair, after all. Won’t be taken advantage of. Tit for tat. Won’t be a loser. Firm boundaries, you know. I see now I hid behind the guise of Firm Boundaries and Fairness as a way to mitigate pain too.

If I loved someone I would want him to love me right back. I’d get anxious until I’d hear it or see enough symbolic gestures to verify it. Because if he didn’t, that would suck to be me. So it sucked for him too; my anxiety for reciprocal feelings made everything feel pressured and heavy–apologies to everyone I’ve ever loved. You know who you are, but chances are good you’re not reading my blog then because you think I’m Psycho Girl and you may have filed a restraining order. Sorry ‘bout that. I’m better now. Promise–that’s what this post is about actually.

I’ve learned to love with no expectation of anything in return. Not a “Me too,” not a nod, not a promise, nothing in return. But loving someone simply because it feels good. Because he’s a good man. Because it’s a good thing. There is so much joy in just loving unabashedly. Your heart actually expands. And then your world expands. True story.

Am I risking? Hells yes! But a reply or nod or promise of the same isn’t security or permanence or even necessarily true. I know who I am. Someone’s love does not define me. What does define me is the love I put out in the world. How I choose to interact with people and this world speaks to who I am. It no longer scares me, most of the time. (Alright, 51% of the time–which is technically most of the time). And now I choose to interact in this world by sprinkling my love all over like fairy dust. Or like Johnny Appleseed. Only sparklier, and no flannel. Nor apples.

It makes me a better person (all the time), and it makes the world a better place. It teaches me to be patient and giving and strong and brave and gracious. It teaches me to be forgiving and kind. In a selfish way, loving freely for the sake of loving gives me the better part of the deal. I like who I am this way. I am so grateful to feel such joy and happiness and love. Such unconditional love feels fantastic to give, to feel.

Let me be clear that I’m not advocating for excusing bad behavior or accepting disrespectful interactions in relationships. It goes without saying there needs to be a baseline of mutual respect. And offering unconditional love and kindness begets love and kindness. My kids know it’s hard to be mad at someone when you are holding his hand. 

I’m not just talking about only a romantic love either. I mean sprinkling forgiveness and kindness and love to everyone without the expectation of anything in return. Try it sometime–it throws people off guard, which is always worth a chuckle. But then it softens them–and you too. It makes them lighter, breezier, smiley-er–and you too.  It makes your relationships easier. It makes people feel better–they can sense your unconditional kindness. Give of yourself because it feels good, because we’re all deserving of love, because well, why not?

And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth,
“You owe me.”
Look what happens with love like that.
It lights up the sky.
-Rumi

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Furlough: The Other “F” Word

Posted on October 8, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

sorry_we_re_closed

I’ve been placed on furlough, so I have had a lot of time to reflect. Here are a few lessons learned so far:

1) You can’t take too few showers
There’s unfortunately not much else I need to say about this. Other than it’s true.

2) Voids will be filled
Aristotle was right. We’re on Day 8 with the furlough, and you’d think I’d be bored by now. Eight hour days and a 3 hour commute–11 hours to fill a day. Yet somehow I feel busier than ever. And I haven’t even tackled those larger projects yet (move some garden beds, purge baby clothes and toys, organize photos, get a safe deposit box, clean out the garage, create world peace). But create a void, and it will be filled. There’s always something to be done. I had hoped to get a lot of writing done. Instead I’ve managed to avoid showering.

3) I’ve built a great life
#2 leads me to this. I’ve filled the void not with frantic tasks and busy work. Well, there is some of that out of necessity. But overall, it’s been a natural progression of doing what resonates. Catching up with friends. Baking. Cooking. Sharing my creations. Reading. Listening to music. Exercising. Gardening. Spending time with my kids. Watching the sun set. Meditating on the beach. Writing. Golf. I’ve realized I’ve got a lot of different and fun interests that fulfill me, I haven’t been at a loss of how to spend my time in satisfying ways.

4) I am not my job
And #3 leads to this. I felt a twinge of humiliation when I filed for unemployment. But it dissipated quickly. I haven’t done a bit of work in a week. And I don’t miss it. My work used to define me to a great extent. My professional self and accomplishments were very important. Guess not so much anymore. I still love my life’s calling, helping others, but I see now it can be accomplished in so many other ways large and small. My job title does not define me. I am not at a loss not being at work because my purpose in life is actualized in the many moments and interactions of my day, every day.

5) Walks make all the difference
I usually pick up my kids on my way home from work–I get them from after-care at the school, and we drive the mile back home. There’s been something about the mile walk to and from school that has altered the baseline of our existence. Something about walking through the windy wooded paths, breathing fresh air, talking about our days. I’m not distracted by traffic. They’re not fighting about whose turn it is to talk–it’s hard to be mad at someone when you’re holding his hand. We’re operating like actual human beings. We’re petting fuzzy caterpillars, looking for frogs in the creek, gawking at deer, and acting like civilized human beings. When we get home, there’s magically no fight about getting homework and music practice done before dinner. With each step, we connect a little closer. With each step we lay down our bothers.

6) You can live without a lot when there’s no paycheck
I was Costco’s wet dream. I would be good and walk in with a list–grapes, bagels, milk, a side of beef, 300 eggs and a machete and tomahawk combo (true story–that they sell it; not that I bought it. I can’t handle a ceramic blade knife safely, never mind a real weapon), and I walk out with 10 pairs of wool socks, jeans, pork jerky, 6 pounds of tofu, 5 pounds of ravioli, 50 Post-It pads, a bundt pan, a snow shovel, a sleeping bag, 4 Michelin tires, 3000 feet of foil, and a Dyson vacuum cleaner in a pear tree. When you don’t know when you’ll get paid next, suddenly it ain’t so hard to walk out with just grapes and bagels–screw the milk, water has fewer calories. What seemed like great deals and a good idea turns into excess when you know there won’t be a paycheck this week. I might take just the pear tree though to grow our own fruit if this furlough continues.

7) I like structure
How the hell does one gauge the passage of time without deadlines and standing meetings? Good God, I keep rolling the trash and recycling out to the curb on the wrong days. Truth be told, I did this all the time before the furlough, but I’m going to use this as my excuse now. But seriously, this lack of structure, though good, can be a little too freeing. I can’t even remember to get my mail every day. What?? Today’s not Sunday? Hell, it feels like a weekend.

8) I suck at making lists
I will never make a living as a writer. I envy the witty, clever writers who can succinctly make meaningful points through lists–the Top 5 Reasons Why The World is Ending or 10 Reasons Why I Am Not Successful But You Are…Look, I can’t even end my list on a good round number. And none of these lessons are anything you, the average reader, could use. This is just about Me, ME, and ME. Apparently I can only make selfish lists, or Costco shopping lists.

9) Self-care can be easy
They say you shouldn’t wash your hair every day–that frequency dries your hair out. I can’t even tell you when I washed my hair last, much less showered (see #1). See? I am learning to be kinder to myself!

So that’s it for now. In the meantime, keep calm and furlough on.

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The Guest House

Posted on September 30, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

Guest House

Sometimes life is hard. No, oftentimes it’s hard. It’s rarely fair. Sometimes painful. My 9-year-old son said to me last night, “Sometimes I can feel my heart weep.” That simultaneously broke my heart, and made my heart sing. It made me sad that he feels sorrows; but at the same time I was so joyous that he has both the capacity to feel deeply AND has the words for it. 

Life is like this. Amidst all our pain and suffering, throughout all our struggles and losses, is a thread of joy that weaves in and out of our lives. It binds it all together. Without pain there is no joy. You can’t separate the two in life. Life is hard, and it is beautiful.

So today, in breathing through some internal anxieties and struggles as my heart weeps, I offer this poem as I sit gratefully in the Guest House:

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

— Mewlana Jelaluddin Rumi, Danish poet

As translated by Coleman Barks

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Keep Calm and Birthday On!

Posted on September 24, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

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It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to! Nah, I don’t really want to cry. Instead, I want to tell everyone and their mother. And technically it’s not really my birthday. Yet. I have declared my approach into the 4th decade of my life a National Month-Long Celebration (which it might become if the federal government shuts down).

Let me tell you a little about myself first though. I hate being the center of attention. I hate anything that calls attention to me. I know, how is this possible when I wear a sequined miniskirt and glittered booties in public as often as possible? And when the only overarching theme to this blog is Me, Me, Me, and Enough About Me, What Do You Think About Me? Let’s just say I’m a study in contrast. I get seriously anxious and uncomfortable when I’m in the spotlight. I hate running meetings, being the guest of honor, crossing a finish line at a race, or otherwise having a group of people look in my direction. (Such as the recent time the stiletto heel of my boot got stuck in the entrance way of an office building with automatic sliding doors, and the doors kept shutting on me as I kept furiously waving my arms to activate the sensor so the doors wouldn’t keep slamming on me, while simultaneously trying to take the boot off to escape the Doors of Death.)

So I’ve never been one of those people who likes celebrating birthdays. I don’t even post my birthday on Facebook. The attention makes me cringe. But I found myself so happy and excited to be turning 40 that for a short while, I considered throwing a party. Fortunately, I remembered how uncomfortable and difficult being socially appropriate is for me. Plan B….

I have decided to start celebrating my birthday 20 days before my birthday, and I have little celebrations scheduled out 20 days past my birthday. What kind of celebrations? Just nights out with different sets of friends–dinner, drinks, dancing, whatever. I have even decided lunches, coffee, staff meetings, handshakes, or any other personal interaction will qualify as a Birthday Celebration! And just to make things more festive, email and text conversations will count as well.

I don’t expect anything different–I don’t expect anyone to buy me dinner or drinks. No singing, no cake, no candles. I don’t even expect people to wish me a happy birthday. Just being with people I enjoy, doing things I like, is enough. I am just so happy and excited to turn 40. And I have so many good people I am so grateful for in my life. I want to share in my happiness and gratitude with people I care about.

I used to be really morbid and thought I’d die young–like I’d never see 38. I have no idea why, but I really believed that as a kid. So I never thought I’d become old, much less enjoy getting older. But my God, I LOVE turning 40. In my life I have experienced feelings and thoughts and events and experiences I never imagined even existed–I can’t wait to see what the next 40 years brings. Don’t get me wrong, it has not all been easy or joyful–there has been great sorrow and strife. But it’s been, overall, a fantastic and interesting ride so far.

True, there is something to be said about youth–apart from the physicality–there was an optimism and promise of Anything is Possible, before responsibilities and obligations create compromises and mortgages. There was an invincibility that bred foolishness, and cockiness that produced insecurity.

I’m well aware now of my mortality and my sense of self. For that, and for so much more, I am grateful. The years have developed a gratitude that feeds a joy and contentment that is different and separate from happiness. The decades have both taught me grace, and graced me with grace.

I am surrounded by the most thoughtful, gracious, positive, kind, and caring people. I am so fortunate to have people in my life who inspire me, teach me, support me, motivate me, and buy me drinks. I could not ask for more. My friend tells me I have a Sweet Life. I really do. Because the relationships I have built and nurtured through the years make up the fabric of my life. There have been times I’ve dropped a stitch or two, but they add texture to me.

What do I want for my birthday? I want to remember how lucky I am to be bathed in such good fortune, to be graced with so many amazing people in my life. I want to be enveloped in this quilt of my life. These people–no matter how fleeting their time in my life has been–they give me life, they have made me who I am, they sustain me. I carry a piece of each of them with me every day. I think it’s fitting then, that to celebrate my birth day, I celebrate the people who give me life.

 

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“People gather bundles of sticks to build bridges they never cross.”-Anonymous

Posted on September 23, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

kiln bridge, anxiety

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“I don’t worry. I think ahead,” said my 9-year-old son.

That made me laugh out loud. But then it made me worry. He’s a Worrier. The boy was born with an extra dose of Anxious and a natural knack for Ruminating. He’s an expert at Catastrophizing. Of course, I am befuddled as to where on earth he could have gotten these traits–MUST be from his father’s side of the family…

It seemed as my son grew older, his anxiety subsided. I’m only now understanding it’s gone underground. Behaviorally, he’s pretty socially appropriate now, but all the anxiety lives inside his head and it seems pretty crowded up there. For instance, he’s spent a great deal of time planning what to do in case of a fire at home. On the surface, this seems appropriate. After all, don’t we practice fire drills, teach kids to know two escape routes out of the house, where to meet outside, etc.? Well, he’s taken it one step further–he’s worried a fire may break out in the kiln.

We don’t own a kiln.

“But we might, and I want to be prepared then,” he insists. The fact that I know we will never own a kiln does not dissuade him from planning ahead. He takes his concerns very seriously. This quirk seems very cute and makes for some good Facebook status posts. Until he stays up all night worrying about his math autobiography assignment, and if it’s good enough, detailed enough, long enough. He ruminates that if he doesn’t get a good grade on it, he won’t ever pass math and won’t graduate so will never get a job and thus will become homeless and hungry. The End.

Well then. His life story as he’s authored it makes my parenting job much easier if the bar is set so low. Phew! But alas, I “think ahead” too and know that if I don’t get this kid to learn better coping skills and how to live in the moment, he’s up against some other issues later in life. It’s been difficult playing Mom and Therapist to him because pleasedearGodjustfinishyourhomeworkandgettobedalready because yourmotheristired. And it’s been difficult for him to hear Therapist from me because well, to him, I’m Mom and I don’t invoice him–I just dole out meals and consequences.

When he’s so worried about everything possibly going wrong every step of the way, he’s missing precious, joyful moments of Silly and Gross and Woo-Hoo’s and Carefree. He’s spending too much time planning ahead for imaginary scenarios and elusive disasters and potential pitfalls. Many of the most amazing moments in life are the ones unplanned. Moments that catch us off guard if we’re open to them.  He’s a control freak–always wants to know details to plan ahead. He’s naturally set at “Hyper-vigilant.” He is not a fan of change or the unexpected. Neither am I, truth be told. But as I get older and wiser (mainly just older), I’ve gotten a lot better with embracing the unknown and going with the flow (and not just when I’m drunk).

Being in the moment. Embracing the moment. Each moment. Each experience. Because I see now I’ve never really crossed those bridges I spent so much time erecting all these years. Those bridges were carefully constructed because on the other side of “planning ahead” and the compulsion to control is the belief and misguided perception that this control minimizes hurts and disappointments and pain–keep your expectations low and controlled. But when you minimize your experience of pain, you’re diminishing your joy too. You can’t choose one set of emotions to dull. So not only do you miss opportunities for joy by focusing on planning ahead, but you also diminish your joy when building a bridge that’s really a dam that keeps feelings contained and pent up.

But dams overflow. I’ve learned to trust that everything will work out in the end–even when there’s a flood of emotions. Trust that I can weather disasters and hurts. Trust that things will be fine both in spite of and because of our imperfections and mistakes. Trust that I’m resilient when everything goes to hell. I’m not sure these lessons come only with time and age. I’d like to believe (NOT plan ahead!) that he can learn to live in moments of uncertainty as well. We do this with a lot of talking, a lot of patience, a lot of me modeling behavior. It’s a lot of practice, a lot of doing, not a lot of planning ahead. 

“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow. It only robs today of its joy.” ~Leo Buscaglia

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Enough is Enough

Posted on September 18, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

enough, worthiness, shameEnough. I’m on an Enough kick lately…the notion of being Good Enough. Having Enough. Being Enough. It’s all wrapped up in the concepts of Shame and Worthiness. We feel Shame when we believe we’re not Smart Enough, Thin Enough, Competent Enough, Young Enough, Wealthy Enough, Cool Enough, Martha-Stewart-Crafty Enough, or Whatever Enough. We feel inferior to Imagined Others (you know, Everyone Else, or Normal People) and that we’re not worthy to sit at the table with them or be seen as equals.

It happens to the best of us, and each of our triggers are slightly different. But we all get struck with pangs of fear and we react to quell that fear and anxiety. To prove to the world, and to ourselves, that we’re Worthy and Enough.

This happens every day–mothers scramble to bake brownies and set up craft activities for school events when there’s really not another free minute in the day. Because they feel great shame and guilt that a Good Mother who Loves Her Children would certainly do these things. All the other Good Mothers are volunteering and chaperoning and frazzled, thus I am a Good Mother too.

It happens in ordinary, mundane moments that make up the days. A parent we know through school is a difficult man to have a fun and casual conversation with. He takes every opportunity to show how smart he is. In some instances it’s really interesting and adds to the conversation. But when each interaction feels like a competition and that he’s always trying to one-up you, it gets exhausting, And not fun. And just plain irritating. He is a smart man. He is also a kind man with good intentions. Just irritating as hell.

I felt bad thinking negative thoughts about him. Sometimes I feel I shouldn’t avoid him as much as I do because he is overall a good person. I tried to think about what this was really about–it’s too easy to write him off as a conceited prick who is full of himself. It struck me that it’s about Enough. When we don’t internally believe we are Enough, we posture and pose and strut our stuff to show the world how Enough we are. We get some positive reinforcement and do it more, for more positive reinforcement, and it’s a vicious cycle of relying on externals to fill our internals.

He wants to demonstrate just how smart he is. So he does. A lot. But it’s too much. If he believed he was Enough, he wouldn’t need to show anyone he was Smart Enough. Eventually, someone would figure out he was Smart Enough–probably Smarter than Enough. But here’s the kicker–it doesn’t even matter if he’s Smart. Whoever he is, However he is, is Enough. But he has to believe that.

I had a nasty habit of always wanting to be right, getting the last word in–I win! Showing that I am smart and competent and know what I’m talking about. (Confession, it’s not really a secret: I still do this sometimes. Shhh….) And it would be under the guise of being helpful. No, no–that’s not the correct way to hang a picture on the wall, THIS is the right way. No, no–your financial decision making is not wise, you should consider THIS plan.

I’ve learned many lessons of late. One is that I’m Good Enough so that I don’t need to show people that sometimes, every now and then, I really am right. I know it, and that’s enough. There’s value in not sharing every thought that runs through my head. Another lesson is that when I connect with a person, it’s the relationship that trumps being right. These connections range from store clerks to co-workers to friends to intimate partners.  I want to support and nurture the person. I want to be kind and gracious and giving. It’s not about winning. It’s not about being right. It’s about validating the person’s dignity. In the end, how ever the person self-determines his life to unfold has nothing to do with me. 

I can pick the battle of showing the correct way to hang things on the wall. Short-term goal is that it stays put and is level, and the house looks good. But at what cost? If I “win” then that means he “loses.” If I am Right, then he is Wrong. Do I really want to leave people feeling that way?  I can also keep my mouth shut and let him do things his way, and support the outcome and person. Long-term goal is connecting with the person. Nurturing the relationship. Demonstrating the value of the person. Showing that he, and how he thinks, and what he does, is Enough.

I’ve found Grace in this new (for me!) way of navigating the world. I’ve always been struck by people who do this easily in their relationships and interactions. There’s a Stillness to their being. A Kindness. A Gentleness. They just Are. Because they let me just Be. Grace. Is Enough.

Posted in Dating, Meditation, Mindfulness, Relationships | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Little Miss Stubborn

Posted on September 13, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

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Holy shit, I’m a slow learner (NOT stubborn!). Shocker, I know. I went to see an acupuncturist today for my lower back pain and my historically horrible knees. I used to see a crazy acupuncturist who swore she could heal everything with one needle. I bought her snake oil and loved her brand of snake oil. I did recognize her crazy though, and this time wanted to try someone a bit more reputable–someone who didn’t wear a fur Russian Ushanka hat and snow boots in the middle of summer. So today I saw someone different–someone who came highly recommended. But I still wanted to buy more snake oil. Hell, I wanted a damned miracle. I wanted to run my 13 miles again and pretend I was never injured.

Turns out this new acupuncturist is a very quiet, measured, careful physician who dresses appropriately. She took my medical history with a lot of “Mmm-hmmm”s and nods. She examined me. And got to work. I asked her what the prognosis was. “Balance,” she said.

That was a complete sentence for her.

We stared at each other for awhile in silence–I was waiting for the rest of her answer. She was waiting for me to hear her answer.

Because I’m a slow learner (NOT stubborn!), and Life thinks I’m in denial, I ask pointedly if I can run again and at what distances. She reminded me that running was the activity that created these problems, and running is what aggravates these problems. Yes, of course–I just told her that for God’s sake. Just answer me!

She tells me I shouldn’t ever run more than 10 miles at a time again. Hm, not what I wanted to hear…so I press her for more details. I’m like a kid–if I pester her enough maybe I’ll hear an answer I like. How many miles? How often? Will this treatment take away all the pain forever, or will I need maintenance to keep running? Tellmetellmetellme!!!

She looks thoughtfully at me, her expression never changing. She kindly reminds me that I’m at a point now where I have a chance of alleviating the pain. The pain could get worse and become chronic. She points out that I could run a lot now, for a little while. Or I could run a little, for a few more years. Or I could be forced to pick up another sport entirely. I ask her what she can do for me. (Tellme!)

She looks at me and says simply, “That’s up to you. This is about balance. You need to decide what to do. There are consequences to our choices. We all have choices to make.” She refuses to tell me what I should do. She points out I already knew the answers to my questions.

I was so sad she wasn’t offering me snake oil. Not even a little taste. I realized that all the doctors were only helping me cope with the pain–there is no fix. The scans show a tear, some bulging, and my lower 2 discs are degrading. There’s no reversal in this process, period. Life has put her in my path to point out that everything else: the meds, the physical therapy, the steroid shots–those relieve the pain but don’t solve the problem that has plagued me for over nine months. This is the same lesson as the neurologist/brain injury doctor conflict. I thought I just learned this lesson of coping with life versus dulling pain. I must not have passed the test and am now signed up for the remedial class. I need to stop acting like my 7-year-old, searching for the answer I want to hear. I need to put on my Big Girl pants and hear what the answer is. Listen.

I also need to let go of all the emotional, psychological, and spiritual meaning I’ve attached to running. Running has meant so much more to me than exercise and weight loss. It was so empowering to me in so many ways. It was meditation for me. It was a comforting ritual. I tied so much of who I am into running. I need to embrace that I am so much more than a runner. I need to let go of my expectations and goals and vision of what I wanted my body to look like and accomplish. I need to learn to accept that knowing I can accomplish certain goals is enough. Enough.

I also understand the other lesson that Life keeps bashing me over the head with is Balance. She said that word (again, as a complete sentence!) several times. Balance. Recently I’ve been struggling with parenting my daughter’s personality and just the general concept of being a parent and the sacrifices one makes for the family. How much of the self each of us chooses to give for the sake of another or the greater good. There are no right answers to this, but I have been having a really hard time balancing feeding the souls of my family and feeding my soul. So this really hit home today. Balance.

And Balancing how much loving-kindness we give to others AND to ourselves. I keep forgetting to take care of myself and to be kind to myself physically and psychologically. I think I am, but I’m clearly not. I’ve been pushing and throwing and forcing myself and my body through life and it has served me well until now. Through the years though I’ve torn it to shreds and beaten it up. It is begging and screaming at me to slow down and rest. Through all of this, I have been hard on myself for my shortcomings and flaws. I am having a hard time right now accepting all of me–my impatience, my stubbornness, my selfishness, my judgments, my mean streak…and those are only the ones I will fess up to publicly. Yes, yes–I know we all have our moments and overall I’m a good person. But the issue is to stop beating myself up over them. Work on them, AND be kind to myself. As kind to myself as I am to others.

And being kind will bring me to the point where I am not walking around daily with ice down my pants, carrying a lumbar pillow everywhere I go and sleeping in a soft collar. And that folks, is how I’m welcoming in my fourth decade of life–with my internal struggles somaticized throughout my entire body, literally head to toe. I’d like the next 40 years to be good ones, so I’m working hard on learning these lessons and quieting these struggles. Please note I may need a tutor or additional instruction so don’t be surprised if you read more posts on this topic. After all, I’m a slow learner, NOT stubborn.

Posted in Health Issues, Meditation, Mindfulness, Running | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

I Hope You Dance

Posted on September 10, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

hope

Hope is a funny thing. The dictionary defines it as: ”the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best”

Let me digress here–I want to split hairs for just one moment. I argue that the belief that events will turn out for the best is more about faith and trust, whereas hope is the desire that what is wanted can be had. Because what we want isn’t always what’s for the best.

But let me get back to hope now. It’s a powerful thing. It keeps us moving forward. It injects positivity in our lives. It puts a lift in our step. It helps us shape our goals–a bigger house, our own business, a promotion, love, a clear bill of health. It keeps us going.

Humans–we’re funny things too. We hope against hope. I remember a few years ago, an ex-boyfriend wanted to reconcile. Give it another try. I talked with a friend about this, and how even though my heart wanted to, I didn’t think I could because I’d be a real idiot to go another round with this one. I knew he had not changed and the dynamics would remain the same. And that despite how I felt about him, it would never work out in the end. I asked her why on earth would I try this again? She said simply and softly, “We all need hope.” I had long ago grown afraid of hope.

She’s right–we all need hope. It’s not a bad thing. It’s also not a rational thing. My daughter takes ballet classes. She is not particularly skilled, and doesn’t have a passion for dance. But she always asks to continue with classes. I ask her why, because quite honestly I’m cheap and would love to save the money. And I’m not too keen on running around to one more activity. She dances for two reasons–one is that she gets to wear makeup at her recital (this has turned out to be a very expensive makeup session).

The other reason is that she bonded with her very first instructor from two years ago. Ms. Melissa. She is constantly asking for Ms. Melissa. Each session, the studio tells her she will not get Ms. Melissa again as an instructor because she no longer teaches there. Every week, my little girl hopes against hope. For some reason, the hope inside her has not died, and she hopes that maybe, just maybe, today will be the day she’ll see Ms. Melissa again. After each class, she’s a little crestfallen, reporting that in fact she did not have Ms. Melissa. But she’ll look forward to next week…

I’ve stopped reminding her that her hope makes no sense. I’ve stopped trying to explain rationally how this works. I’ve stopped explaining how her hopes are futile. Because there’s nothing worse than extinguishing someone’s light inside. It doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t want her to learn to despair. I want her to learn resilience and practice hoping. It’s a beautiful thing, that elusive, irrational hope. It keeps us alive. And dancing.

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Be Still, Part Deux

Posted on September 7, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

be stillWe just spent the day hunting for fossils. There are a few beaches along the Chesapeake Bay where fossilized shark teeth are in abundance. Beach + Fossils = Kids in Heaven. The kids were super-excited. I was looking forward to a day of both fun and relaxation. The weather was perfect. Turns out, the kids’ attitudes, not so much.

The day started off with high hopes. A friendly beachcomber taught us how to find the fossils, and what exactly to look for. Go to the edge of the water, find spots where there are rocks and pebbles, and look for dark triangles. Both kids started off strong, tossing tooth after tooth into their respective buckets. Then the Boy started getting distracted…by other kids splashing in the bay, by the seagulls, by the sand, by…

I watched him walk to and fro, all over the beach, from the water to the parking lot. Sometimes he would stop and stare off into space. Sometimes he’d race along the beach. When he noticed his sister’s bucket was filling up faster than his, he started to frantically pace along the water, and then….

Whiiiiinnnne… “That’s not fair! I can’t find any fossils! How come she has them all? This is haaard…I’m booooored…whinewhinewhinewhinewhine”

I start to explain how his sister and I are slowly and methodically looking, whereas his frenetic energy and lack of focus prevent him from seeing the small fossils. This, of course, falls on deaf ears. And all I can hear are his whines of how difficult this is and this just sucks and it’s not fair and…This is precisely where I ignore the Boy.

He continues to dart all over and make the motions of hunting for fossils. He finally comes over to me, and asks “What are you doing?”

I, being the really good mother that I am, ignore him. I am sitting on the beach where the water laps against the shore, and I’m picking the fossils out one by one in a steady rhythm. He kneels down next to me and watches me. He finally sits down and observes, “You’re just being still. It brings you what you need.”

That kid is a genius, and this time I’m not just saying it because he’s my kid. Yes, I’m being still and life gives me what I need. Well, the water in this case. The water washed in the fossils and I didn’t have to move. I did not have to go seek out what I wanted. I just had to sit still and pay attention and wait.

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I Heart You the Mostest

Posted on August 29, 2013 by bonnevivantelife

unconditional love

I’ve been talking about relationships a lot lately with friends in different stages of coupling and uncoupling. Nobody likes a broken heart. Cause it hurts. We talk a lot about finding The One. Or believing there is a Soul Mate. People search for the Right One. Someone who Completes us. There’s a lot of romance and hope and magic in such language and thoughts. A lot of walking off into sunsets. Happily Ever Afters. There’s great joy, rightfully so, at weddings. True Love wins, right?

And when we hear about divorces or break-ups, we are sad, and want to know what happened. Whose fault was it? Did someone cheat? Is he a cad? Is she a bitch? Then we want to know if he’s dating again. But it could be too soon. Or why isn’t she dating? Then we think perhaps the new partner is too much like the ex. Or he’s a rebound.

There’s a lot of room for missteps. There’s a lot of opportunities for pressure. To get it Right. To find that One who will make you a Couple again. At each step, there’s a lot of symbolism to denote the proper milestones in a relationship. Meeting the parents, anniversaries, rings, co-habitating, sharing email passwords, weddings. Oh, the pressure…

Then we expect the next set of progressions–the house with the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, minivan and dog. Up the career ladder we go with jobs that begin with Director or Chief or Vice. Memberships to pools or country clubs, casseroles to bring to events. There’s a lot of celebrating in the normalcy that is expected of us by society. All these symbols of normal life are supposed to provide us with security and stability and certainty–we know what’s next. They tell us we’re well on the path of Happily Ever After. And that we deserve this Happiness. We’re worthy enough to have the Dream. We’re worthy enough to matter the mostest to Someone. Someone loves us the mostest.

And each of these milestones are supposed to assure us this is forever–we make vows, we acknowledge verbally this will be hard, but it’s supposed to all work out in the end–Richard Gere ended up with a prostitute for God’s sake. So here’s the thing–every now and then, I still succumb to the belief that Coupledom, and the symbolic gestures that accompany Coupledom, assures security and stability and certainty. And that I matter the mostest to Someone, and I won’t ever get hurt like That ever again.  

But see, nothing in life remains the same. It’s all transient–there is no certainty or security or permanence. The one thing you can count on in life is that if you look around at your current circumstances, don’t get too used to them–they’ll change.

So sometimes couples uncouple. Sometimes you hurt someone unintentionally. Sometimes you meant it. There are no guarantees, even with hard work and good intentions. And as it takes two to couple, it takes two to uncouple and not one person is to blame. There’s more pressure to reach the symbolic milestones than to maintain the couple.

The moments when I say I want to matter the mostest to Someone, I’m in a place of discomfort and uncertainty, searching for a wall to lean up against and exhale and be done with not knowing how life will unfold. There’s not only the internal desire for connection, but there’s a lot of external pressure to get it Right. Sometimes I still want my happily ever after.

But most of the time I don’t feel this way. I’m well aware that along with the desire to matter the mostest to Someone also carries the expectation for someone to complete me and make me whole–it’s a double-edged sword. I’ve been coupled in the past with the desire to fill this role. But I’m done with that. It’s not something I want anymore. I know that I should matter the mostest to myself. And I’m the only person that matters in this quest for mostness–only I can love myself enough. And that knowledge and ownership of myself is in itself security and certainty. If I look for someone to love me Enough, it will never be Enough.

So do I want to be happy? Yes, of course. A Someone for me though is added value, not any One. I invest my time and energy into enjoying the moments shared with someone, and I continually assess whether it continues to be a positive value in my life. And each day, a decision is made whether to continue forward together for another day. And it is good intentions and hard, mindful work to maintain the current Togetherness. For now, that is Enough.

Posted in Dating, Mindfulness, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment