Summer invocation

Attention is the rarest and purist form of generosity. — Simone Weil

Today is the last day of non-summer break for me. Tomorrow afternoon the house will once again be full of boys. I feel the urge as I do every year to create lists: goals, expectations, screen-time rules, guidelines for sharing communal space… but I’m being pulled to approach this summer a little differently.

This summer I want to help the boys (and myself) be really aware of our energy and our attention. Where we put our attention grows. I want us all to increase our awareness of both where we are directing our attention and how our energy feels when our attention is shining in different places. Are we antsy? needing to move? to rest? to be outside? to be in water? to create? How is our energy affecting others? How is the energy of others affecting us?

I am realizing that more than I want my babes to be rule followers and contract honorers, I want them to be in touch with their ever-changing needs and desires and tuned into their relationship with their environment. I want them to understand the importance of attention and the power we can harness by placing our attention on purpose.

For little bits each day I want to focus my attention upon each one of them so fiercely the generosity is palpable.

On repeat?

I shamed Mr. Middle. Again. The distance between episodes is growing fatter (thank you teachers and guides), but the echoes of my voice and the pain it caused are still reverberating in my chest.

You drank all the almond milk??!
I only buy so much,
now I want my special treat,
and it’s GONE!!!

Who was this screeching?

The growing loneliness in my heart space that needed soothing?
The feelings of inadequacy rising just below my skin?
The charge from an earlier encounter?
The eating disorder that surfaced when I was about his age?

Luckily his father called me out on my outburst breaking me out of my trance. Thank you. (And fuck you too, I thought at the moment).

I softened. I returned. I used more words. I apologized.

Though it sucks, I know this endless cycle of failure, reflection and recovery builds my resiliency and capacity to be a better human, and I know that if I continue to play with presence and attention, maybe it will build that of my boys too.

A friend shared this Hawaiian poem, Ho’oponopono, with me just this week. I may tattoo it on my palm.

I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.

Ditching the spreadsheet

Once upon a time, not too many years ago, I made decisions based upon a giant spreadsheet that I kept in my head. I weighed the hypothetical effects of all possible scenarios on everyone who could possibly be impacted by my decision (the environment and future generations included), checked in with my long list of “shoulds”and then I’d choose the option I believed brought the greatest amount of good and the least amount of guilt. This process was used to determine driving routes, plan meals, choose children’s activities, accept invitations, make career moves. Everything. This was an extremely exhausting mental activity, and often left me paralyzed in complicated mathematical indecision as well as feeling depleted. The question what do I want? seldom crossed my mind, and it didn’t matter anyway, I believed I was too much to too many, and I hadn’t the skills to even know what I wanted.

Flash forward a few years and my decision making process is unrecognizable. The first questions I now ask myself when faced with a choice to make are:

What is my body telling me? Am I attracted to the idea, invite or a particular choice? Do I feel lit up inside?

If so, I’ll follow up with:

Is this in alignment with my intentions?

If so, I proceed. (If not, I gracefully decline or wait a bit for more clarity.)

This new approach to decision making proves to be much less stress and much greater pleasure for me, and in turn, for my people. Yay!

The paradigm shift from outside input to inside input didn’t occur with the flip of a switch. I had to dance around the pond of self-care and self-trust and dip my toes a few times in before committing to practices that led to the big shift. They help me get in touch with my body, mind and spirit, so that I can use them as tools to become wiser and more deliberate about creating the life I want to live. Some of the biggies include:

  1. Mindfulness meditation – one of the best ways to get to know how we think and feel is to sit with ourselves and do nothing. Or rather, try to focus on one thing as simple as the breath and see what actually happens. The thoughts come, giving us opportunity to observe them. What are they? What’s their quality? Do they serve? Is there a pattern? AND how does the body respond to different thoughts?
  2. Yoga – another opportunity to practice mindfulness, but with movement, which takes some of the pressure off for those of us who tend toward anxious. Both the classes I teach and attend are a constant invitation to enter the body with full attention to see what’s going on. What sensations am I feeling? How do they change? Where do I feel energy? Both home practice and attending class offer opportunity to practice decision making. What do I want to do next? How deep do I want to go? Do I want a prop or a different variation of the pose?
  3. Wild writing – like meditation, but different. This specific journal practice –writing for a specific amount of time without letting the pen leave the page– allows us to see what’s wanting to come out. What are the themes? What are we imagining? Craving? Where in the world do we want to go? What are our interests? Dreams? Liz Gilbert says that the opposite of depression isn’t happiness, but curiosity. Writing helps us answer the question: what are we curious about?
  4. Check in (*and act accordingly) – first thing in the morning, last thing at night and a gazillion times in between. Just like we’d do with a visiting friend or a child, we can ask, how is my nervous system? How is my attention? What may l be needing? (Food? Water? Sunlight? Rest? Movement? Beauty? Nature? Vitamin B or D? A friend?) Once you know, give yourself the care you need. You are the only one who can truly know what you need. Trust you.
  5. Pay attention to your joy meter— Notice when you get a goose-bumped skin orgasm. Notice when you’ve lost track of time because you entered a flow state. Notice when you’re taken aback by the beauty of the moment. Search out more of these scenarios. Likewise, notice when you retract in fear or disgust. Inquire about the why. Can you eliminate these encounters? If not, can you grow into and through them for deeper self-knowledge? What skills may you be needing?
  6. Find support – personal growth (self-care) is a team sport. Find your teammates. Pay for it if you must, YOU ARE WORTH IT. Hire a coach or therapist. Join a group. If it doesn’t exist, create it! You deserve support, so search high and low until you find the right fit. Accountability partners are crucial. We learn in conversation, and when we share what we learn, we all learn faster and deeper.
  7. Practice gratitude – As Robin Wall Kimmerer says, “gratitude breeds abundance.” Feeling abundantly blessed leads to well-being and greater confidence, including greater confidence in decision making. Scan your day each evening for specific experiences you are grateful for. Paint yourself a mental image of the experiences, write them down or share them with a friend via text.


These practices, among others, have helped transform my headspace. There’s less tension due to less “figuring out”, and there’s more ease and freedom. I don’t know exactly where or when I adopted the beliefs that formed spreadsheet thinking, but I’m grateful for plasticity of the brain, wisdom of the body and all peeps teaching and learning with me on this exciting path.

Out beyond

I acted hastily this week, as I often do.

Interacting with the world without mindfulness frequently leads me to opportunity for apology, loss of -or damage to- personal property and the need to redo tasks. I am aware of this, and in the last few years I have slowed down significantly. That said, just last week upon leaving one of my favorite clogs in an Argentine hotel, I was witness to the mental beating I still give myself for being careless . Continue reading Out beyond

Yirah: magic fear

Earlier this week we had a friend over who had recently watched the documentary series Inner Worlds, Outer Worlds. Her multiple references to the program over dinner inspired us to snuggle up between the ancient crackling fire and the modern flat screen TV to watch part one. Full-bellied and sipping cups of tea, the boys took it in with a mixture of perplexity and boredom until the violin scene. In this scene the camera showed a violin being played before a tray of sand and the sand responding to the frequency of the music by forming beautiful geometric patterns– familiar to anyone who’s seen a mandala or indigenous pattern on a piece of art. All of a sudden Gus was jumping up and down, covering his eyes and begging for it to stop.

I don’t like magic! Magic is scary! Shut it off!

At the time, I thought it was super cute and interesting, especially coming from the boy who still believes in Santa and begs to watch any scary movie his brothers may be watching. The next day the scene was still at the forefront of my mind and worthy of a mention to a close friend. Today I’m seeing the relationship between Gus’s reaction to the magic moment in the movie and my reaction to seeing and feeling magic in my life.

Often I feel chills as I realize the power of sending a wish, making a vision board and more recently creating my first altar of intention. The tingles come when I sense the universe is responding to a question I have posed or a request I have made. When I ask to learn something and the lesson-opportunity shows up quickly, or when I have a flash of insight and the lesson gets reinforced by a story in my newsfeed or a book recommended by a stranger, I feel connection to the universe. I sense the role I play in co-creating and conversing with her. Lots of times this whooshing feeling of connection feels empowering, supportive and delightfully playful, but other times I respond like Gus.

I don’t like magic! Magic is scary! Shut it off!

And then I do what humans do. I eat it, social-media distract it or busy it away until I feel I’ve landed back in my comfort zone (albeit a bit numbed and detached). Eventually, I am ready to crawl back out, so I make the wish, set the intention and the cycle begins again.

Awareness is the first step to change right?

I am hoping with awareness of my fear cycles I can begin to shorten the time I spend in the disconnected zone. Besides awareness, another catalyst for change is looking at things from a different perspective. As someone who has dealt with anxiety since my teenage years, I welcome a better understanding of fear. Recently I’ve been reminded of a long-forgotten interpretation of fear that is helping me to reframe my anxiety both around the sacred and the mundane, which I’m finding more and more to be one in the same.

According to Rabbi Alan Lew, the Old Testament speaks of two different kinds of fear.

Pachad: an overreactive, imagined and projected fear that sees danger and threats; the panicky lizard-brain fear for survival that often includes unconscious thoughts such as rejection could destroy me or I could combust if I step out of my comfort zone

and

Yirah – the fear that overcomes us when we suddenly find ourselves in possession of more energy than we’re used to, when we’re taking up more space than we’re used to and when we feel that we are in the presence of the sacred

I am betting that both 9-year-old Gus and myself are experiencing moments of the yirah type fear. We can sense that the sacred is being made known. This is weird and scary, so we want to stop.

But it’s also exciting.

Perhaps being able to more specifically name the fear as well appreciate that humans have been experiencing it for time unknown can help us ride the sensation of awe and connection with a little more trust.

And joy.

Better problems

While basking in said glory of having up-leveled (see my last post), I didn’t stop to consider that this new spiral of the video game would mean new challenges to content with.

New level + new tools = new issues. Duh.

Although I’d love for a new notch in my belt to mean a walk in the proverbial park, the challenges keep coming.

This sort of reminds me of something I read in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. The author, Mark Manson said problems never go away, –they just improve. Warren Buffett’s got money problems; the drunk hobo down at Kwik-E Mart’s got money problems; Buffett’s just got better problems than the hobo. So here I am with my “better” problems than I had last year at this time, at that lower spiral in the video game.

This February, instead of being all bent out of shape like I was last year because other people didn’t plan things the way I wanted them to (sibling trip), weren’t considerate (didn’t ask what I wanted to do on Valentine’s Day) or didn’t love me the way I wanted to be shown (endless complaints in many directions), I am planning my own damn trips, realizing we all have different desires and learning to care for myself, or at least ask for what I want.

Though I’m doing a much better job planning proactively, accepting differences and communicating, I still wind up in the valley of self-doubt and stumble into the entrance to the cave of black and white thinking due to the new things I’m learning (and the things I’m getting to learn again, but better this time). The difference is that this year, I can get out much quicker. I can see myself approaching the cave and pull myself away from it. I can see myself in the valley and say things like, here I am again; look at me being all sad and feeling defeated, acting like a three-year-old. What’s this about? What do I know for sure to be true? I can ask myself what tools I may I need to get out of my toolkit in order to exit and maybe even if it’s okay to stay in for a bit.

Sometimes I feel a bit foolish posting about how great things are and how much I’m learning only to have the next day feel dark and lonely, but with reminders like the one above from Mr. Manson, I know I’m not alone, and I know that these challenges are but invitations for growth. Sometimes it just takes a moment, a day, or a week to decipher what I’m being invited to learn.

Heart cage expansion

Basking in the afterglow of a lovely Valentine’s Day, with a full heart I realize I have made it to a new level, as if I’m participating in a live video game. I have earned some sort of badge that has launched me up a rung on the ever narrowing spiral of vertical development. (I can almost hear Mario sounds). Although I’ll continue to have trials, I know it will only be possible to fall so far, due to some sort of safety net. Perhaps it’s the support system I’m building, the faith I’m cultivating, or the expansion of my physical heart space and the softening of the tendrils surrounding her. In the future I may feel like I’m sinking lower than ever, but in reality I won’t be, because the learning I’m doing is integrating at a cellular level that my gut says is impossible to un-know.

My body and spirit know that…

I am deeply connected. To all humans, blood relation and non. To the earth, to the rivers, to the whole vibrating planet with all of her multiple legged and sans-leg creation, and this web of connection is un-severable.

I create my reality. With spoken and unspoken words, intention and attention, I choose what to see and how to interact. Even if I find myself in physical constraints, I get to decide which thoughts to entertain.

Pain is a blessing. She lets me know I am alive and what part of my body or psyche needs care and attention. She lets me know when a relationship is asking to be examined and handled with care. She is my canary.

Fear is a portal. Like pain, fear provides an entry point for growth and understanding, as well as access to magic. She lets me know when I’m approaching the sacred. Without fear, courage doesn’t exist, and with courage the game cannot be played.

I am worthy of joy. Extended happiness, even bliss, doesn’t mean there is a monster waiting to sabotage. Joy doesn’t mean I’m cheating or not pulling my worldly weight. Joy is part of the human condition I am cultivating.

I have helpers and guides everywhere. Whether in the etherial form of angel and ancestor, or the concrete form of my favorite authors and podcasters, they are always present and ready to cheer me on.

Sisterhood support is for real. My blood sister, the sisters I circle with, and the women I meet on the street know what I may temporarily forget, and they are willing to remind me of my innate wisdom when I may need a gentle nudge or a firmer push.

All this is really truly sinking in. I see it in the resiliency that I am demonstrating, the paradigms that are shifting, the conversations that are evolving and the beautiful life that I am co-creating.

Thank you universe, for partnering.
Thank you friends, for supporting,
Thank you family, for sharing lineage and story.
Thank you medicine wheel, above, for showing me just how playful this game can be.

Finally, thank you, Max, for gifting a token of love and validation yesterday, and for launching me into the biggest realm of growth I have ever known: motherhood.

xoxo,
mm

December brags

I’m going to take a moment here, or maybe a multitude of moments, to boast and to brag. I realize this is a bit counter culture, or at least counter my culture. I am going to scream from the mountaintop (my blog page) the badassery I manifested in the last month of 2018. I am going to savor and digest the goodness of it by writing it down and sharing it with YOU, thus helping myself to squeeze all the gratitude possible out of it. I do this to live the experience again, further imprinting it in my memory and shifting my brain toward the positive, and I do this to inspire. I do it because I keep hearing how awful 2018 was, and I feel moved to point out some highlights. I also do it because the universe has repeatedly given me the message:

Undigested goodness turns to negativity.

…or in my case at trip to urgent care after many sleepless nights of belly pain.

Only a short while ago I would never have dreamt to have courage enough to risk wasted time, wasted effort and possible rejection like I did this past month. But here are my brags (thanks for the terminology Mama Gena and thanks to the women who helped me learn to brag).

Here goes. This past December…

I invited anyone who had done one of my circles (and a few that simply are my circle) over for a sisterhood solstice soiree. We nourished. We circled. We shared. We sang. We honored. We even crafted.


I celebrated the solstice with my four boys by studying the enneagram with a spiritual director, and they stayed engaged for the two hour+ exploration.


I asked for an electronic-free night in the candlelit house, and the five of us spent the night being together —talking, joking and sitting around the fire.


I coordinated a meaningful gift for my in-laws’ 50th wedding anniversary. Local artist Bill Hoover beautifully captured the essence of the seventeen of us in a painted family portrait.


I orchestrated the exchange of 19 made-by-hand Christmas gifts, inciting hugs and laughs and nearly 100% engagement of nearly 100% of the group, aged 2 – 67.


I rang in the New Year without alcohol, something I don’t believe to have done since age 17.

I write this blog also to encourage us as humans (especially those of us who tend to create connection and meaning by sharing our trials and tribulations as opposed to our successes and brags) to elevate the way we relate. I am not encouraging us to hide our darkness, but rather to shine in our splendor when the opportunity arrises.

Thanks for sharing in my sunshine.

Happy New Year!

Katie

Gratitude and brain change

I haven’t been writing or blogging as much as I’d like to be. I have been so submerged in my world of reading and thinking that my thoughts and insights seem trite. What could I possibly have to share? Then I remember that not everyone that reads my blog is on my path with me. Not everyone is having the same insights or spending their disposable time talking goddess, brain science and consciousness, so maybe what is beginning to seem habitual to me won’t seem so obvious to someone else. Take the whole black-and-white thinking thing. I’ve been working on it for a long-while, and I’ve blogged about it before in Seeing gray, but at that point in time I hadn’t felt the full effects of a gratitude practice aiding my transformation. The two practices go hand-in-hand for me. I believe a sincere gratitude practice  (seeking out moments for which to be grateful) is helping me peel apart the stickiness of my instinctual all-or-nothing thinking. Continue reading Gratitude and brain change

Intention and the fall equinox

I find myself wanting to pinch myself lately. I am experiencing life like I haven’t since childhood, not stateside anyway. I have built-in tinker time almost on the daily. This is time to ponder, to straighten up, to organize, to weed, to contemplate, to play, to move furniture, to walk around my house and simply take it all in. Thursday I even spent a whole day at a state park with a dear friend. We packed provisions and spent the afternoon resting on blankets under the big blue sky. We felt the warm wind of the last days of summer and we listened to it blow through the leaves of giant trees. I vacillate between gushing gratitude to the universe (mostly) and succumbing to nagging ancient guilt that speaks up now and again to challenge me,

who do you think you are, barefoot and playing with plants, sitting and sipping tea …isn’t there something you should be doing? producing? achieving?  Continue reading Intention and the fall equinox