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.

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.

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