|
|
May 23rd, 2012 I am pleased and honored to be the newest member of the Cape Cod Children's Writers. Please check out our web site at:
Cape Cod Children's Writers
Soon my bio will appear there and one of the best things about being a member of this group is they have a blogging section and the members blog on the site regularly. I haven't even attended my first meeting yet, but my first blog may be being written as we speak. Sometimes, when the topic applies, I will post it in both places. It just so happens that one of the other members, Jeanne, posted a blog last night on the site that struck a nerve about something I've always felt very strongly about. Please check it out. Her blog, (Jeanne is an author/illustrator) was about picture books for adults, sparked by a question asked by a child. I think you will find it an interesting topic, and one you may have not thought about before.
As I read her words, images from things I used to contemplate when I was a kindergarten teacher, came to mind. In my 23 years of teaching five year olds, I spent a lot of time in other classrooms in the primary school. The one thing that used to bother me the most was the absence of easels, paint, clay, etc. in first grade classrooms. These children were only six years old and to see them reduced to academia at such an early age made me sad. Their teachers were wonderful. They were some of the brightest and most creative individuals I know, but they also were being crucified by the standards and regulations imposed on our NY schools today. In kindergarten I got "special dispensation" because kindergarten isn't even required in NYS and you would expect paint, clay, and sand, to be present in a kindergarten classroom. First grade, however, is a different story. The stringent requirements for reading and math, and now science and social studies that must be covered before the end of the first grade year leave precious little time for a six year old to be six during the school day. That always broke my heart.
As a writer, I spend a lot of time talking to and listening to people and I have come to think that this is also true for most adults. The people I meet have the most interesting stories and amazing talents. When I say to them, "That is an amazing story – you should write that down." I hear more often than not, "Oh I'm not a writer." or "I'm not creative enough to write."
How sad that makes me feel. Over my 58 years of living I have come to believe that every man, woman, and child is an artist. Everyone has a story. Everyone has something from their creative side to make with their hands, or create with a brush or write with their words or sing with their voice or act on a stage. One thing I learned on my journey these past three years in the arts is that being a writer doesn't mean you published a book. Being an artist doesn't mean you have work displayed in an art show. Being a musician doesn't mean you made a hit record.
Being an artist is something that lives inside of everyone. It's a side of us that most people don't think about, or if they do, they put themselves down with the "I can't possibly show anyone that" or "tell anyone that" or even be able to write it or create it for their own eyes only.
It's interesting that Dr.Phil runs a side bar asking people to write to him under the title of "Dr. Phil, Make Me A Star In My Own Life." That right there leads me to believe there's a real need out there for people to be given permission to explore and bring out their creative sides and tell their stories. To be honest, I have to give a bit of credit to Facebook and social media, because these tools have also given people a stage to be on and in some ways many people have begun to see that they can share writing, art, and photos and just maybe they should take that part of themselves a little bit more seriously.
My artist dates with myself have gone a long way to leading me back to that six year old that so enjoyed the sandbox and the messiness of the paint. So, if you have a story, or even the inkling of even thinking you might have a story, or you took a picture with your iPhone and you think it's kind of cool – give it chance – put the pen to the paper or click a few more pics outside of the kids and the family gathering. You just might be surprised when the six year old pops out – and the freedom you find in it. Even if you never show anyone or tell anyone – YOU are already a star in your own life and you really don't need Dr. Phil to tell you so.
And so, as another day goes by, ahh…I've wanted to say that to people for such a long time, thanks to my artist/writer friend Jeanne for the inspiration, check out our site, and….I have written.
May 22nd, 2012 Walking over to turn off the nightlight this morning, the smell of the marsh at low tide wafted through the window and caught my attention. I spent a few moments with my arms and chin on the windowsill gazing out on a beautiful rainy Cape Cod morning. The fog covered marsh across the road had turned that bright spring green and told me summer is almost here.
That nice, idyllic way to begin my day soon took a downward turn a couple of hours later when I entered the hot room. The pre-class mat chat was mentioning that it seemed a bit hotter in here today. Oddly, to me, it wasn’t that hot, but I felt something slightly uncomfortable, too. Then it dawned on me. Summer brings that misty elusive visitor to the cape – humidity.
Today was the first spring day I noticed the humidity was up in the room. I put the thought aside, and started class. My heart rate was on the rise by the middle of the first pose. Oh no, it’s too early to wrangle with a bit of humidity. This has to be shut down now. I paid extra attention to my breath, but as I bent over for standing forward bend, I stopped pulling so hard. I just eased into the stretch. As the voice of the instructor encouraged us to pull harder, I pulled slower. I made it to where I needed to go by relaxing my muscles and just let the stretch happen. Right then and there I set my mantra for the rest of the class. Relax, move slowly, no unnecessary movements, and reach my capacity for each pose by easing into them, instead of tensing all my muscles and taking them to the max quickly.
Class, from that point on, progressed beautifully. Eventually the teacher cracked the window right next to me, the rain was beating down outside just a foot away, my mat cooled off and I actually felt like I was practicing outside. Humidity, for today anyway, was kicked to back of the class.
When I left the hot room today, the words “with ease” followed me. I have a lot to do this week, some of it new stuff that could I could be a little anxious about, and taking on the mantra of “with ease” as I left the studio, quieted my monkey mind.
The end of May holds a lot to be anxious about. School ending, graduations, holidays, summer guests arriving, family gatherings, and the list goes on. Approaching them “with ease”, instead of muscling our way into the summer season, would reduce anxiety and let the people we care about have the best side of us.
And so, as another day goes by, a rainy week and the hot room bring forth good things, and…I have written.
May 21st, 2012 Today when I entered the hot room, a group of my friends were set up congregated in the third and fourth rows. I decided, after being forced to vacate my front row left corner last Friday by the teacher, I would venture into the back row today. Of course, I headed to the back right corner. If I couldn’t have the mirror, at least I could have two walls, right? One of my friends began to looked panicked as I set my mat down in a spot she loved and clearly counted on using today. I had no problem scooting over and practicing between two people – still had a wall behind me, right? I was happy to please her and just as happy when I get bounced out of my expectations. Didn’t I just spend all day yesterday touting how I finally enter that room everyday with no expectations? (My, I’m full of the rhetorical today, aren’t I?)
Anyway, we all happily settled into our back room camps and waited to begin class. As soon as we all stood up, I knew I was going to be writing about “my view from the back” today because right away I saw there wasn’t one. In front of me was a sea of bodies and not only couldn’t I find a sliver of me in the mirror, I couldn’t find the mirror.
Pranayama breathing was an adventure not being able to watch my stomach do its beautiful thing. (It’s the only time I’d ever use the words “beautiful” and “my stomach” in the same sentence.) Proceeding through half-moon, awkward, and eagle without being able to see myself do them, began awakening a fear of the balancing series. After the break
came standing head to knee and that’s where the magic of the back row began to rear its power. I didn’t have the sense of sight to carry me through my most difficult pose. Not being able to focus on my standing leg and locked knee in the mirror, gave me that “uh-oh” feeling. Then it suddenly clicked as I extended my leg out in front of me – I didn’t have the sense of sight – the only sense that actually matters during the standing series. Hearing the teacher was redundant. Tasting and smelling were useless. The only sense left that I could tap into was that of touch – feeling the pose happen. I have to say that was a revelation today. Instead of checking my knee in the mirror, I relaxed and “felt” my leg push forward, instead of watching it. I felt it in my lower back and my knee and in my grip. I felt things I never noticed before because my eyes were so focused on the mirror, that all the other really good, helpful sensations were gone by the wayside. I didn’t do the pose any better than any other day, but the sensations of falling out and not having the mirror to help me get back in, certainly changed the experience for me.
There is a price to pay by wearing blinders. There is a price to pay by focusing so much on one aspect of yourself. There is price to pay by insisting there’s no need to move from the spot you’re in because nothing can be gained by it. Losing your “sight” and having to depend your other senses to deliver information to your mind and body is truly freeing. Today I learned to move around and see life from a different perspective.
Taking this changing of perspective one step further into our world, maybe, just maybe, we should look at the “why” when someone hurts us. It may not be us at all, but their perception and reaction to a world we have no idea about. Don’t be so quick to judge or take or assign blame. Try looking at it from their perspective – (they may be a “back row” person, while we are totally “front row”), before it’s too late and something beautiful gets killed and you miss a chance at truly making a difference.
Before I went to yoga this morning, I was overwhelmed with finishing my bedroom painting project AND cleaning the house before the gang arrives Thursday night for the holiday weekend. By the end of class I moved to a new spot in my mind, formulated a plan, and drove home relaxed and in control again. (Now, I’m not so naive to think the best laid plans can’t be thwarted, but to us humble beings, a plan is a place to start.)
And so, as another day goes by, who knew so much could be gleaned from simply extending your leg out in front of you, moving a mat, and allowing your perspective to be readjusted? And…I have written.
May 20th, 2012 Today I spent a lovely afternoon in South Dennis attending a presentation by Nicola Burnell, publisher of Cape Women Online magazine, about the four classes she will be offering this summer. The classes deal with exploring your creativity, being the author of your own future, writing stories that define who we are, and finishing a fiction or memoir manuscript you’re struggling with.
The first two hours centered on Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way”. After listening to the description of the intense 12 week course, you certainly should find your creativity when you’re done with it. I was surprised to feel that after the discussion of morning pages and artist dates, this course really wasn’t what I needed. Thinking about my 435 morning pages and weekly artist dates, I felt I had accomplished more than what will be taught here. (I read the book last spring and began my own journey of finding my own way as an artist.)
The next session introducing the other three courses began by Nicola having us briefly write about “who we are now”. Some in the group had a hard time putting pencil to paper, but I scribbled off two pages easily and sat quietly waiting for others to share. Through their sharing I recognized the pain, fear and loss in these people’s eyes. It brought back memories of myself last May. I was a crippled and broken individual back then and had I attended a presentation such as this, I would’ve signed up for all four classes right on the spot. (This shows what a great teacher Nicola is, and how wonderfully helpful these classes can be when one is stuck in limbo.)
I went there this afternoon expecting to find out, once again, just how far behind I was and how much I still don’t know, compared to everyone else. I pictured myself swimming in the rapids minus one “swimmy”, when in all actuality I was in a canoe with sturdy paddles. I remember three years ago I was building a room to write in, then spent another year unable to write even a single word. I remember not knowing where or how to start. I remember feeling lost. Somehow, I went there today still thinking of myself in that very same way.
In my writing exercise I suddenly realized I have now written three children’s picture storybooks with one ready to be submitted for publication, have one young adult novel in the works, write this blog daily, belong to a children’s writing group, a blog group, and sit on the board of directors for the Cape Cod Writing Center. I was shocked to find out I clearly knew who I was, who I am now, and where I’m going.
At the end of the session Nicola passed out sheets on which we were to indicate our preferences for the classes we’d like to take. I was amazed that I actually felt none of these applied to me right now. I’d moved on. I finally took a step forward. I folded my sheet, hugged her, told her I have a lot to think about and how much I liked her magazine, then headed for my car.
They say a journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. The next 999 miles now seem doable. I will approach my second step with no expectations and see where it takes me, just as I do when I enter the hot room each day. I drove home happy and with a confidence I hadn’t ever felt before in this artist’s quest.
And so, as another day goes by, once again I lean on the lessons learned in the hot room, find that hope and courage reside in having no expectations, and…I have written.
May 19th, 2012 Absolutely beautiful morning on the beach. I have warm sun, sparkling waves, and even a couple of soaring parasailors. In front of me, just on the shoreline, a piping plover skips and flitters along the water’s edge. I know it’s an adult because the babies are still incubating in their eggs in the nests on the sand behind me. They won’t be born until early July. Until then huge stretches of the beach will stay cordoned off to protect the fragile nests. On some beaches this causes a lot of disgruntlement among the tourists and natives alike, as the beaches are closed to car access until mid-July. There is no hurrying it. A plover takes what it takes to grow and hatch. As I thought about this, it occurred to me that even this plover/closed beach thing is a process. You can’t mess with it. It takes what it takes.
We, like the plover, are products of the process also. Sometimes in a difficult relationship I shake my fist at God yelling, “Fix this!”. I don’t realize the person at the other end of the relationship is also a product of their own process. As time goes by, I think God is ignoring me. Then the pieces start falling into place for both of us at exactly the right time, but in very different ways. We each have our own unique process.
In the hot room I heard “trust the process” from day 1. I don’t understand what the poses are doing inside me from day to day, but I know I’ve grown, changed, and learned over the year that I’ve done them diligently. My friend at teacher training just posted about how she had no trouble and felt great after a 140 minute class at 135 degrees, in a room with 700 people. I, myself, can’t even fathom that. BUT she is a product of her current process. She’s been there for four weeks and had a lot of problems along the way. Did she give up? No. Did she question it? Not too much. She just got up everyday and went to class twice a day with no expectations. She was trusting the process. As week 5 approaches, she is going to be just where she’s supposed to be. But there was no hurrying to there. She trusted the process. (Go Shirley! You’re my hero!)
Plovers, people, the hot room….the process is not meant to be understood or hurried ….just trust it. God has a timetable and we’re not going to change it. Eggs, hearts, and bodies are not transformed overnight. What it takes, it takes.
And so, as another day goes by, I think I finally, after 21 months, own it now, and…I have written.
May 18th, 2012 Today I walked into the hot room and set up in the second row. A friend came in and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to go up front?” She wanted my spot, but she also knew I’d spent the better part of the spring in the first row, in the corner right up in front of the mirror, so I probably wouldn’t mind moving. I said, “Sure, no problem.” I picked up my mat and moved my camp up into my familiar corner. In comes the instructor and notices there’s an empty spot in the third row in the middle of the room. Knowing that I love the walls – I’ll move anywhere – left side, right side, back, front – as long as it’s along the wall, (I never had any real reason for always being next to a wall, but now I wonder what it says about me) she promptly points to the open spot in the middle of the room and says, “I’d really like it if Linda would move there today.” Uh-oh….I didn’t expect that. But, I’m a good sport (she even said so) and I happily said, “Sure”, and moved my little camp to the middle of the room.
Hmmm….I was being a “good sport”, but internally I wasn’t too sure about how this was going to go today. I started to convince myself that you do the postures totally on your mat, so why would it matter where your mat was? Then I gave myself the “I am Katniss Everdeen” talk and reassured myself as soon as pranayama breathing started I’d descend into the arena and would never know my mat was in the middle of the room, floating in the middle of nowhere.
So much for Katniss today. All through the standing series I felt a little off-balance – sort of like trying to go down a flight of stairs with no railing – even if you don’t use the railing, there’s something about it being there anyway. My left side truly felt the absence of the wall and I missed my view out the window. I knew I had to reign these thoughts in before they took over and disintegrated my entire practice. I focused on stillness. Made it my mantra. Every time I fell out of a standing posture, I stood up straight and went back to the stillness of the set-up before trying to get back into the pose.
Today I learned a lot about giving up security, returning to a place of stillness when I felt my world begin to tilt a bit, and to start over, from scratch, the right way, instead of trying to jump back into the posture from the point where I fell out. Now I know what the wall has been saying about me. I was fearful of moving away from something secure.
The rest of my day continued to be off its usual kilter. After news time and lunch, I was absolutely devoid of energy. I napped a bit, but couldn’t seem to find my way out of the chair. I felt like I had a lot of things to do, but couldn’t settle on just one to start. In fact, deciding was taking longer than doing all of them. Now the anxiety of not moving and accomplishing anything was setting in.
Then I remembered my game plan earlier today in the hot room when I felt off-balance. Reign in these thoughts before they take over my entire day. Return to a place of stillness. Start from scratch – go back to the set-up and start again. I stilled my monkey mind and thought about my basic routine each day and what the constants were. A walk. Afternoon exercise. Those were my baselines. I don’t have to plan or think to do them. Just get up off the chair and go into the exercise room. After that, go out the door.
It worked. On my walk I met a neighbor and had a nice chat. She took my mind off of me and reminded me it was cheap chicken Friday at Stop N Shop. I decided later I’d go get one. After my walk I sat down to my computer and pulled off another children’s book I’d written months ago, made a mock up of it and actually sketched the pictures. By then I was hungry – those cheap chickens sounded good. Off to the store. I got my food for the weekend. Upon returning home, in went two loads of laundry. After dinner I finally sat down to this blog post.
In the matter of a few minutes I turned an off-balance, anxious, fatigued day into a relaxed and productive one, just by going back to what I learned in the hot room. Back to stillness, back to the baseline set-up. Start again. Always go back to that which is familiar and takes no thinking to do. This immediately alleviates the anxiety and enables planning and clear thinking.
And so, as another day goes by, the hot room continues to teach something new and different each day, changing careers from the work world to that of being a writer is a lot like leaving the wall, and…I have written.
May 17th, 2012 Yesterday was one of those days where bad news of death, misfortune, and broken relationships hit me from all sides, along with those “I’m not talking to you!” “Fine!” conversations. A day that would be normally deemed high drama. And now, just flashing at the top of my screen, Donna Summer just died. (RIP Donna) Drama at every turn this week.
Today in the pre-class yoga mat chat, my friend came in and announced she can’t put 50 Shades of Gray down since I got her reading it. I said how I hated when people don’t read the book and give their opinion on it based on what they heard in the media. I was reiterating how WBZ Boston news touted it as “Is this what women REALLY want?”, totally missing the point of the author’s story. Then my friend said, “What? It’s a book about healing!”
Wow. That was it. That was what I’ve been trying to say all along. Her simple comment suddenly brought clarity to a multitude of muddled thoughts. It’s not an erotic sex manual. It’s not a commentary about women’s secret sexual needs and wants. It’s the story of a horribly abused child trapped in a grown man’s body, that meets probably the only woman in the world that understands that and sticks by him to encourage that inner child to grow up, allowing the boy to meet the man, merge, and heal into a wholesome person. Does that sound like a sex manual? Honestly.
But it does sound like a lot of drama. Just like all the things happening in our own lives. Thanks to my friend’s insightful statement about the book, I now realize all the drama in my life is really healing. The “dramas” that last a long, long time are really just healing processes in disguise. In yoga today the teacher was talking about calming down and taking the hot room slow and gentle. She said, “If you’re one of those that just always wants to hurry up, finish the race, get your medal and go home so you can feel good now, you need to slow down and surrender to the process. 90 minutes is 90 minutes and your not going anywhere.”
I suddenly realized, “Holy crap! That’s me!” I’m always in a hurry to get it done and feel the good feelings the endorphins of accomplishment bring upon me. Unfortunately, healing doesn’t work that way. Healing is more like “90 minutes is 90 minutes and your not going anywhere”. At first I couldn’t believe it was taking months. Then when it stretched to a year, I was dumbfounded. THEN it stretched to the SECOND year. I just looked at God and said, “You gotta be kidding me right? You’re asking me to do this for ANOTHER year?” I feel like Katniss Everdeen in Hunger Games. BACK into the arena? AGAIN? (So now when the days get tough, I just look up at God and say, “I am Katniss Everdeen.”
Funny, though. At first I said, “I am Katniss Everdeen” with a resigned “oh crap, if you say so, Lord”. These days I’m saying it with power and strength – the same kind of courage, power, and strength Katniss did it with.
Life “in the arena” is surreal and somewhat removed from the rest of the world, and filled with high drama. But that is the story of healing. When you are called to spend your time in the arena, hang on. You’re in for an incredible ride. There will be fear, tears, and tremendous pain and just as Katniss in the arena, and me in the hot room, you have to surrender to the ride. Let God drive. Go where He leads. Make NO decision without prayer first because your mind is in no shape to be trusted. In the end, when the drama is over, the healing process complete, you will come out of the arena a totally different, transformed person.
Books, people we see everyday, close friends both near and far, music, yoga, TV shows, movies, etc. are all the tools God provides while we’re in the arena. He even surprises us with little packages floating down on tiny silver parachutes holding just what we need, when we need it. It may be the hug or kind word of a friend. It may be an unexpected song in a tv show. Don’t worry. Just as Katniss had a sponsor to look out for her, we have the ultimate sponsor to look out for us when it’s our time to enter the arena.
And so, as another day goes by, if you haven’t read Hunger Games, or 50 Shades yet, I suggest you get to it – these books are SO much more than they appear to be – healing disguised as drama – incredible strength and courage exemplified in both characters, kudos to the authors – this is what art is meant to be, and ….I have written.
May 16th, 2012 Today was women’s bible study day and we were finishing our last session on control. Andy Stanley, in the video, made a statement about controlling people that was profound. He said:
“You can’t control someone and love them at the same time.”
It struck me that must be why God gave us free will. God loves us and wants us to live a life finding happiness in helping others, but He’s not going to force us to do anything against our will. God is a teaching God, not a controlling God. He uses both the positive and negative times in our lives to lead and teach us, not to control us.
We are told in the Bible to be like Jesus. Remember the bracelets WWJD? In turn, we must treat others the way God treats us. In certain situations, such as with our children, we control the environment that they’re in until they’re eighteen. We give them a safe place to mess up and try out life. When they are eighteen we send them off to their chosen direction, cross our fingers, make the sign of the cross, kiss them on the forehead and having given them everything you had, you just hope they take it with them. In any kind of relationship you can’t make another person do what you want them to do, just so you feel better. The best you can do is lead and teach by the way you live your life, just as God does with us through the example of Jesus.
Sometimes you are worried about someone you love. You know what’s wrong. You know what they need. You see things they cannot see. You see the direction they’re headed in. You know what they should do, etc. You do what you can, but in the end, their direction is their choice. Sometimes the best thing you can do for another person in trouble is to just step back and get out of God’s way. Once again:
“When you’ve done all you can do, just stand.”
You can’t control someone and love them at the same time. God doesn’t do it with us. We should follow His example with those we care about. Many times we are being taught right along with them. We are learning our own lessons about letting go, trusting, surrendering, and being still. You can only stay on the hamster wheel so long before you have to get off, and…
just stop.
And so, as another day goes by, this morning one of the women reminded me of my old stand by: “Be still, and know that I am God”, and….I have written.
May 15th, 2012 I always have all the answers. Name a problem and I'll have the fix. And if I don't, I'll die trying to find it. Once in awhile, on Twitter, the Oprah flipboard will have something that catches my eye. Today it was a post by Martha Beck on "Overhelpers Anonymous". Overhelper is the word that flagged me. That's me. That's a good word for always having the right answer – many times you end up an Overhelper.
There really are times when one must use deference, and, even though you know in the depths of your heart, you have the answer, the very thing that will fix everything, make it all better, make everyone happy again, you can't offer it. There are reasons you have to hold back, and as hard as it is, you have to keep your mouth shut. This isn't easy. Your need to help is about to burst out of you. Me? I either have to write about it or talk to someone about it to reassure myself that keeping quiet is what I must do. Why? That's the catch 22 – because it's the best way to help.
Sometimes people you love must be allowed to discover things on their own, so they can "own" them. Sometimes a person is not in the right frame of mind, or in a good place, and not ready to hear your wonderful, cure all, wisdom. To offer it at the wrong time would be like trying to tell a person in a coma why they are in the hospital. When the time is wrong, and we have the info but know we cannot share it, Julia Cameron offered this bit of wisdom in today's reading in the Artist's Way Everyday:
"As we ask, believe, and are open to receive, we are gently led." ~ Julia Cameron
From this I get sit quietly. Let God gently lead and guide. Chances are the project has been His all along anyway. Let Him finish His work. Sometimes He gives us the answers first to allow us to breath in the ah-ha moment and adjust to it ourselves, before we can effectively share it. Be gently led.
And so, as another day goes by, I share the link to the Overhelpers Anonymous post below because it is tremendously insightful, and …I have written.
http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Martha-Beck-Overhelpers-Anonymous 
May 14th, 2012 My friend Shirley, who is attending Bikram teacher training in LA, is doing a wonderful job blogging weekly about her experience there. Her blogs are detailed and give me an exact picture of just what teacher training involves. I cannot believe how hard and grueling it is. So much so that it just reinforces what I say when it's suggested to me that someday I should attend. My answer is the same: I don't want to. It's that simple. I don't want to put myself through that. I admire the stamina, both physical and mental that my friend has to attend this training. Then…in conversations….the same thing kept coming up: the reason for the extreme, grueling treatment is that during the first five weeks Bikram wants them completely broken down so he can work with them. At first, this made me uncomfortable – borders on brain washing. After listening to my friend describe her time there, there is some brain washing going on, but not by Bikram. It appears she's in an environment that strips away all the things inside herself that she felt she couldn't work with, wiped her slate clean, made way for her to grow and change and accept things she never thought she could. In effect, she gets to wash her own brain.
While still deciding how I felt about the extremeness of this training, I thought about how I go about doing a room over. The first thing I do is empty it completely, even if I plan to use some of what was in there in the new room, it's important for me to empty it and start with a clean slate. Next I vacuum it and wash the windows and the floor. People always ask why I'm washing the floor before I paint. It has to be a completely empty, beautifully clean room before I can begin creating the new look. After the painting is done, then I begin bringing back in slowly the furniture and things that will fit with the new look. The point is, before a room can be completely changed, recreated, and renewed, it must be emptied and cleaned of all that was in there.
If this is true for a room, must it not be even more true in order to reset and recreate ourselves? I now understand that you cannot effectively embrace Bikram yoga well enough to teach it to others if you haven't done what it takes to make it part of your own personal make up. Sometimes even a relationship must be completely obliterated and begun again. Sometimes a natural disaster forces people to start from scratch.
I was reading an article in More magazine written by Anna Quindlen called "Aging Gratefully". Just the title had me. Then the byline read: "Why is it that so many of us are decidedly happier now, than we were decades ago? A progress report from the near side of 60." Since this describes me, I just had to read the article. She begins with the story of how her country house came through a catastrophic tornado with flying colors. The line that so impressed me with this concept of being "broken down" to be built back up was:
"Most of the big trees closest to the house were gone, their root-balls upended into the air, as though the hand of God had wiped the landscape and ordered us to try again."
I walk around with that line in the back of my brain. God does this. He wipes parts of our lives away, for reasons only known to Him, and "orders us to try again". God is a god of second, third, and maybe even fourth chances. He's patient with us until we get it right so He can effectively use us to help others.
Whether it's doing a room, attending Bikram training, training for a marathon, changing jobs, moving, breaking up with someone, ….any true life change that's to make a real difference always starts with the "breaking down and cleaning out" of the old. This is the hard part. Parting with things, feelings, beliefs, people, is never easy, but oh so necessary to make way for the "clean and new" to enter. It hurts. It's exhausting. You cannot see the end. You cannot understand the reasons. You have guilt. You almost lose who you are. In Bikram training, they say after week five everything changes. Suddenly you're filled with new understanding and you can feel the tiny bubbles of new growth brewing.
I get this. Over the last year I had to be completely broken down, and now, here I, too, sit on "the near side of 60", feeling the bubbles of building back up and change taking place.
And so, as another day goes by, whether we're "on the near side" of 30,40,50, or 60 and beyond, just those words – the near side of something – hold a new decade of promise for our lives, and …I have written.
|
|
