Archive

Curiosity


One of my long-time teachers, James Yates says, “To make any life transition, you need three things: support, support, support.”

(And, I would add, since life is just a series of transitions, we all need support all the time.)

Support is all around us and in us. What’s curious is how often we don’t lean into the support that’s available.

The earth itself is always ready to take our full weight and hold us unconditionally. And yet, I find myself not relaxing into this steadfast support. Notice right now, are you?

I have internal resources that I can draw on, too. My physical strength (no matter how ill or injured I am), my very bones, my life force — until my dying breath are all there for me.

We are available to support each other. Know who you can go to for whatever support you need. Who can you go to when you need someone to listen? Who can you go to for advice? Who can you go to for inspiration? Who can you go to for laughter?

It doesn’t matter what you call it: the Universe, Nature, Spirit, God, the Mystery. That which is larger than we are is there to support you, too. Can you trust that this support is available? Can you be awake enough to feel it?

Earth support. Internal support. External support. Spirit support.
Tap into it.

Advertisements


The first time I heard these words, from meditation teacher Phillip Moffitt, I found them simultaneously confounding and profound. He was teaching about grasping and aversion, about clinging and resistance, about wantingwantingwanting and notwantingthatnotatall. He suggested that instead of pushing and pulling and fighting whatever was happening to open attention and simply acknowledge that this is what is happening right now.

Right now, this raspberry tastes sweet and cold and delicious.

Right now, my heart hurts from hearing the news.

Right now, this hot shower falling on my skin feels wonderful.

Right now, my hip hurts.

My mind is so quick to rush to the future — the next raspberry (and the next and the next), the cataclysm of what will become of the world, the apprehension about stepping into the cold bathroom, the fear that my hip will never be well. Instead I can say, “Right now, it’s like this” and just leave it at that.

Amazing.

The other thing my mind is quick to do is to compare what’s happening right now with the past and if it’s similar (even in the smallest way), my mind says, “Oh, I know this. This is the same as that. So I don’t have to pay any attention.”

Which is horse hockey, of course. Every moment is brand new. Every sensation is new. Every feeling/thought/awareness is new.

There is aliveness in this.

Especially when I’m resisting whatever is happening, I love Silvia Boorstein’s practice of choosing to meet each moment fully and as a friend. These two parts are important. It makes a difference to be both all in and with friendliness. She writes about how she uses this practice here. 

One definition of suffering is wanting things to be different than they are. This week, play with the possibility of making space for whatever is happening. Your mind will judge it — good, bad, like, not like — that’s what minds do. But this practice invites us to be with whatever is happening and letting go of the suffering.

Imagine that. No wonder every meditation teacher I’ve ever had says some version of “Right now, it’s like this.”

When I’m looking to make changes in the way I do things, I need to know what’s actually happening first. Otherwise, I’m working from faulty information.

Recently, I’ve been playing with going deep into what I’m actually feeling.
Not what I’m thinking about what I’m feeling
or what I’m afraid of feeling
or what I plan to do about what I’m feeling
but what I’m actually feeling.

A freaking revelation.

Here’s my habit. I feel a little something and quick-like-a-bunny, I wrap an idea around it.

Instead, what happens if I look at what’s under the blanket?

When I do this, I can respond and take care of what’s actually happening instead of the blanket idea I’ve wrapped around it.

This happens a LOT with hunger.

In an effort to avoid the feeling and the fear around getting hungry, I quick wrap it up and go eat something. Or a bunch of somethings.

Instead, I can determine if that’s really what’s happening. Or if I need to support myself in another way. (Often, I need water.)

This “blanketing” habit happens with lots of feelings.

Distraction is sneaky and can draw me away from something I want to avoid. If I find myself doing something mindlessly like a zombie, then it’s a pretty sure sign that I’m wrapped up in the blanket.

Again, looking under the blanket tells me more about what’s actually happening and what I really need. (As in, “Ah, I don’t want to do my taxes. If I just get it done, then I will free up time and energy to do what I want to do and not mindlessly scroll through Instagram.” OR at the very least, I know why I’m doing what I’m doing so I have a choice to keep doing it or not.)

The best place to start is in the body. If you feel the blanket descending, take a moment to feel whatever physical sensations are arising (including numbness or “no feeling”).

When I drop the blanket, I can make real choices for change that get to the heart of what’s really happening.

At the heart of the practice of Nia is the principle of awareness. We pay close attention, we invest ourselves in witnessing how we do what we do so we can make conscious choices rather than be carried along by habit.

It is a powerful practice that has served me well for nearly two decades.

I have always thought of awareness and the witness as being objective, non-judging, almost clinical. This is important for seeing things as they are.

But last weekend, at a Mindful Self Compassion workshop with Laura DeVault and Sharon Beckman Brinley, they introduced the idea of Affectionate Awareness. What if I observe myself with both objectivity and kindness? What if I see what is so with tenderness? As if I was observing a close friend or a child? 

Take a moment and think of a time that a friend came to you with a difficulty and they were suffering in some way. Think about how you spoke to them, what tone you used, what your posture was. Then think of a time that you were struggling or that you messed up or failed in some way. How did you speak to yourself?

Imagine for a moment, saying what you say to yourself to your friend. The thought of that took my breath away.

The practice of Mindful Self Compassion is based on the work and research of Kristin Neff and it is full of eye-opening and heart-opening practices. And if you, like me, thought that it all sounds like unicorns and rainbows and that there is really important work that needs doing and other people are suffering more than you are and you don’t deserve this kind of work, think again. MSC is a courageous choice to feel your suffering and others’. It can shift not only your relationship with yourself and those around you, but can shift the discord in our communities and the world.

Learn more about Dr. Neff’s work and the practices that can support you whenever you need them in this Google Talk and her TEDx Talk. Her book on Mindful Self Compassion is here.

Breathe deep and offer yourself some Affectionate Awareness.

Welcome to the NO-AUTOPILOT ZONE.
Instead, let’s make something interesting happen.

I’m not talking about doing anything dangerous or reckless, careless or thoughtless.
I’m talking about choosing something interesting instead of what you usually do…even if what you usually do works really well.

Making it interesting could mean playing with the way you move in class: stretch further, draw yourself in closer, make sound, shake things you don’t usually shake. Changing your movement patterns trains, conditions and heals your body and it also changes your brain. Making it interesting opens up possibilities that we never even saw before.

But making it interesting isn’t just about movement:
– make a project interesting by bringing someone else in on it (if you usually go it alone) or doing it by yourself (if you usually have help)
– make a chore interesting by doing it a different way or in a different order or whilst listening to Dizzy Gillespie
– make a conversation interesting by asking an unusual question
– make an argument interesting by saying something (or NOT saying something) completely outside your norm (keep it kind, y’all)
– make your thoughts interesting by imagining a scene that you love
– make your emotions interesting by getting curious about what the physical sensation is of each one
– make ANYTHING interesting by going into it by asking yourself, How can I make this interesting?

This week, I’ll be posting art every day along this theme. In the piece above, I’ve started with what I usually do: me and my favorite Bic pens in bright colors. Keep coming back to this space and check out my experiments in making something interesting happen!

Monday, Nov 13 ~

I got out my watercolors, something I occasionally dabble in and have very little confidence with, and played with using them “dry” (the letters in red) and “wet” (the letters in yellow and blue). The wet colors came out kind of muddle but then I wondered what would happen if I used water with my Bic markers. At the top, I painted water over something I drew. At the bottom, I drew on wet paper.

Tuesday, Nov 14 ~

Yesterday’s experiment made me wonder about using washes of water over Bic pen drawing. Here’s what happened:

Wednesday, Nov 15 ~ 

Now for something totally different. I got out a bunch of tissue paper and some Elmer’s glue and went a little Modge Podge-y I even added some 3-D pom-poms which made the scannning a little oddish but that’s all part of the process.

The last piece I made borrows from all that came before: Bic markers made into vivid washes with water, tissue paper stripes.

And this from Pete Kashatus who doesn’t like to color inside the lines!

 

And check out this genius poem by Jay Perry!

Here’s another playful one from Pete Kashatus!

If you want to play along, here is a blank version of the art. Print it out and make something interesting happen. Share what you create (email it to me at sjmnia@gmail.com with how you’d like me to list your name — or not — and any comments you want to share on what you did to make it interesting), and I’ll post it here! (If art isn’t your thing, print it out anyway and post it somewhere to remind you that making it interesting can happen in a zillion ways.)

magic mundane mandala 010216

“All chat is sacred and magical.” ~ Marcus, MailChimp Help Desk

“People think life is about marriages and graduations and celebrations but it’s really about doing the laundry. The mundane is what life is.”

My artist friend Harriet Arthur is telling me about a piece she created last summer called Life Line. Strung between two trees in a front yard in the Belmont neighborhood of Charlottesville, the sculpture is a line of pillow cases and underwear and dishrags and dresses stitched and strung together with multi-colored threads and glow-in-the-dark floss sewn into the jagged line of an EKG.

Life Line by Harriet Arthur detail 092015

Kids are running around it. Three women are sitting in lawn chairs turned toward the street. I stand and gaze gaze gaze at the white cotton floating in the warm September air.

Life Line by Harriet Arthur 092015


Building a Web site pushes all my “I-can’t-do-this-I’m-not-smart-enough” buttons. The slick SquareSpace TV ads say that their interface is easy and that you can have a beautiful site up and running in 15 minutes. I snap snarky things to the television. Those ads are either ludicrous bull-hockey or I am a total technological dummy since it took me more like 15 weeks. Either way, I’m annoyed.

I’m not a patient learner, I’m discovering, when it comes to my Web site. I know what I want it to look like and how I want it all to work and it makes me crazy with frustration when I can’t even figure out how to make the typeface blue.

Luckily, there is this fanglorious thing called The Help Desk. I can send a pleading email asking the most basic of questions and – BOOM! – a nice person writes me back and tells me how to do the ridiculously simple thing I’m stumped on.

As part of the Web Site Odyssey, I also want to integrate an email management program into the mix, so I plunge into the “easy-to-use” MailChimp system. I was instantly gritting my teeth and throwing things.

In a snit, I logged onto the MailChimp Help Chat and in moments Marcus The Help Chat Guy is typing a cheerful greeting and “how can I help you today?” I rant on and on about the painfully basic thing that I cannot figure out and Marcus slowly and patiently talks me through every step. At the end, our session looked something like this:

Susan: Well. Thank you so much for your help. I think I know what I’m doing now.

Marcus: You’re very welcome.

Susan: Sorry my questions were so basic.

Susan: Admit it. That was the lamest chat session on record.

Marcus: All chat is sacred and magical.

Susan: I officially love you.


At New Year’s gatherings and celebrations dressed in sparkly dresses and cuff links and funny hats, we ask,

What was your favorite moment of 2015?
What was a sweet, delicious snapshot of your year?

And it was

the hike up the Montana mountain
the concert at Red Rocks
the spa vacation
the extraordinary Christmas
the sunset swim in Superior

But home in sweatpants by the woodstove, I realize it actually was

How did your day go?
Would you like tea?
Thanks for unloading the dishwasher.
Dinner’s ready!
I’m doing a load of laundry. Want to throw anything in?

%d bloggers like this: