"I Don't Know Nothin'..."

"...except change is going to come"--Thank you Patty Griffin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=38an1V5UkOU

This is one of my favorite songs of all time.  "I don't know nothin' except change will come.  Year after year what we do is undone."

The one thing I do know?  Is that we're walking in the right direction.  There isn't another.  I think the essential piece will always be surrounding yourself with people who will encourage you to pursue your own direction and in your own way.

I'm realizing more and more of late that "it don't come easy," but it certainly does come.  Persistence.  Intentional practice.  Willingness to pick yourself up and try again.  And again.

I have so many people in my life who are willing to remind me of what's true...over and over and over...And I hope we can all offer this to the people we love.  And to the people we encounter.  It's simple, really.  We listen.  We support.  We regain our perspective.  We see the facts as facts.  We manage to suspend judgment and simply acknowledge.

And we do a really happy jig when we acknowledge that it's all exactly as it is, and we wouldn't trade.

Paradoxes and Wide Open Spaces

One of my favorite Story People stories is:  "feels like some kind of ride, but it's turning out just to be life going absolutely perfectly."  And my favorite moments in life are when I can sit back, laugh a bit at myself and realize that I'm finally able to see the truth of the perfection.  I'm a fan of letting go with both hands, clearing space for whatever is coming, and moving forward knowing that anything is possible.  It's scary as hell sometimes, but it sure as hell pays off big when I trust that the outcome will serve.

I wasn't prepared for the level of bliss that closing on my house this past week and selling my things would offer.  I haven't been able to stop smiling.  I've reclaimed my own ways of moving through the world...and my belief that everything we put out into the world will always come back to us.  Generosity of spirit, of time, of energy is never wasted.  And I am so grateful to so many who have shared their spirit, their time, and their energy with me when I've needed them.  These feelings of gratitude are both humbling and expansive.

I think I've finally given myself permission to look forward and shrug off any last bits of debris (aka  responsibilities) here.  I have a dissertation that can be finished in the next months from anywhere I choose to be.  I have an amazing series of professional experiences that I'll tuck in my belt and walk away with.  And, truthfully, in retrospect?  Not one regret.  I put my whole self in, all in, all the time, to everything I took on.  And it's paid off.  And now?  I teach another month, I write, I pack, and I drive away.  And I smile.  The ride, despite some momentary crash and burns, has gone perfectly.  I will leave here with the experiences I came here for, and now it's time to see where those lead me.  And things feel wide wide open.

Last week at yoga, one of the themes was "paradox"--as in the ability to see the beauty that surrounds us even when we're feeling sad or dark.  And I think that this whole ride is a continual paradox:  the world can be harsh and ugly, but there, in a moment of darkness, is a hummingbird, a smile from a stranger, a moment of utter peace even when everything feels like it's crumbling around us-- these moments are truth. These moments are our core.  These moments remind us that despite indications to the contrary, life is going absolutely perfectly.  Everything is always precarious in the day to day.  It is our core being that keeps us on course.  And happiness always returns.  Always.  We can step into wide open spaces knowing, trusting, that there is so much that will fill us up, and so much that we can offer.

And if I can continue to move through the world in the ways I believe in, and if I can hold my course to what I believe to be true and right no matter what else is happening around me?  And to recognize that this is going to grow and change as I do?  Then the paradox is a blessing.  And the wide open spaces go on and on.  This drawing in and expanding out--simultaneously --seems to be the balance we continually walk.

Purging and Finding

There are treasures and minefields lurking behind every closed cabinet door. When I was young, I would have found this process an adventure.  I would have snuck to Narnia beyond the panel in my linen closet.  I would have run far and free in snowy fields never wondering if I was going to make it back.  Maybe, however, there is some part of me that still thinks this is going to happen as I slowly empty the contents of armoires and night stands that I will sell at next weekend's garage sale.

There is always, in this moment of purging belongings, a moment of nostalgia (stumbling upon something you haven't seen in a while; associating memories with it; deciding whether or not to discard it).  Whatever the said item is, it does take a moment, even if it's only a split second, to determine whether it comes along with you on the next stage of the journey, or if it can be left behind.

And I will say that this process of letting go of the material existence that fills my home is a strange mixture of melancholy, a desire for it to simply be done, and a disbelief that years of living can be discarded so simply.  I am a natural purger.  Growing up, we moved every couple of years, and hanging on to lots and lots of "things" never made sense to me.  As an adult I've followed the same pattern.  When I move, I move in my car.  Yes, I know, there are many adults who would choose to rent a moving van, put all of their things in it, and when they reach their new destination, they take them all back again and put them in order.  I can't quite understand the logic of this.  This could be simply because my "large" possessions?  Were once someone else's...and I like the ecology of passing them on again to someone else.

So, as I work through this process of culling and purging...there are moments that stop me short.  A note written tucked in a file that I'm sifting through...a photo of a time I hadn't thought of in a while...a tiny bowl from Italy that I will snuggle in the box of linens I'm mailing to my new destination...and will find there, tucked in flannel sheets, with the same sense of surprise I had when I first found it in a shop in Tuscany.

And there are things I'd prefer not to see again...because they are associated with another time and another belief system that I no longer adhere to.  And that's the beauty.  Someone else can pick these things up, find them beautiful, and walk away with a gift.  It is this fluidity of "stuff" that I appreciate.  I'm pretty sure there's more out there.  We pass it around, those of us who don't insist on buying everything retail.

And there's vulnerability that surfaces when you purge.  There's vulnerability in saying, "Well, I kinda thought this was a forever kind of deal, but look at that, it wasn't."  And there's vulnerability in saying that sometimes, truly, letting go of expectations is a tough thing to do.  And there's vulnerability in saying  that despite the fact that the end result is feeling more than okay, the means of getting to this place didn't.  And sometimes, "stuff" is just "stuff"--and the stories we associate with it are just stories.  And the narrative continues whether we acknowledge it or not.  So we may as well acknowledge the stories, laugh and cry at the appropriate (or highly inappropriate) times, smile, cry, and purge.

And there's vulnerability in acknowledging that this is not exactly what I had anticipated.  I wouldn't trade my current life trajectory, but that doesn't mean that the past two years have been one's I'd like to re-live.  I would love it if the stories of time weren't carved so completely within me.  I would love to be able to place some of them out for sale at my garage sale:  "Would you like to buy a portion of that workaholic phase that didn't serve me at all?"
"Maybe you could go ahead and take that infidelity, resentment, and hostility story-line out of my mind--five dollars and it's yours.  Go ahead, keep it. "  And then these "things" would be gone and not tossing around in me.

I know these lived experiences are not "things" that can be bought and sold.  And, on some level I am grateful for this.  On some level I know they are the foundation from which I operate.  And, on some level, I'm hoping that some of them will leave on their own accord.  Allowing me to find, once again, who I am, after the purge.

Kindness and Facing Forward

A woman spoke at my school this week about a local project for spreading kindness (www.bensbells.org). She shared her story of losing a child at a very young age to a sudden death.  Her project began as a way to  face forward and continue to live while walking wounded.  And I thought of how many people are out there "walking wounded"--and so often we can't see the wounds.  It's so strange to think about the fact that a person can be broken open, but on the outside look totally "normal."

The smallest signs of humanity can be the things that save us from retreating, turning around, or simply losing ourselves again in the pain of a past experience.  It's hard to keep facing forward.  Hell, it's hard to live in the present regardless of how glorious our past has been.  And there are so few people out there who have not had to stare darkness in the face, pick themselves up off of the floor, breathe deeply and will themselves to carry on.

I don't think there's anything wrong with honoring the past, nor do I think that taking time to mourn when the past surfaces in us is a weakness or a failing.  We just need the constant reminder that the past is past, not current reality.  Remembering is just that; it's not a re-experiencing. There's no truth but that exists in the present, despite triggers that launch us backward into some space in our memory.  And the only person we're truly accountable to?  Is us.  I try to remind myself of this.  When you're harder on yourself than anyone else would possibly dream of being, it's hard to remember to be gentle in this accountability.  But it's necessary.

I was riding my bike up Mt. Lemmon highway on Saturday morning when a biker pulled up next to me to chat.  It was a man who had coaxed me up miles of mountain a couple of summers ago, and who, through his absolute kindness during that time (and without knowing a thing about me or what I was living through) helped me face forward and move upward--literally.  I remember a day when all I wanted to do was turn around and ride downhill, and his company for a couple of miles boosted me to my highest point on the mountain yet.

And there's the professor I talked with on Friday evening at yoga who congratulated me on my return to my dissertation and the progress I've made.  And the fact that she had been keeping track felt like an honor.  She said, "I know it was a rough time.  But I'll tell you, as someone who's a little bit older...it's just life."  And I said, "Yes, it's just life."  And I realized there's a hell of a lot more of it to go.  It's a little bit easier when we keep our eyes toward what's in front of us.  And it's more than a little bit easier when we know how much more kindness exists out there.  Random or not, kindness is a gift.  And, I'm pretty sure, like love, it's a renewable resource.  Be kind.  Indeed.

Staying Awake and Shaking the Dust

My biggest missteps in life have been when I haven't been fully awake.  You know those moments, you're on auto-pilot, the to-do list is your guide, and you just keep moving forward without actually looking around or listening to what's going on inside of you.

Sometimes it takes something really big to wake us up.  Sometimes, it's a lot more subtle.  The subtle reminders are the ones I'm most interested in at this moment.  These are the ones that will sustain me. Subtlety sounds really nice right now.  I feel like a lot of us wake up and make big changes, but can fall back easily into sleep as we try to move through and navigate what's in front of us.  We can make excuses:  I'm just going to push on until _______.  If I can just get _____ done, then I will ______.  I made a promise to myself that I would not go back to sleep, but I'm also finding it difficult to do when I feel like so much of my world is in flux.  A nice, long, sleep sounds pretty lovely... Staying awake, however, is a constant practice.  I don't always succeed.

I am shedding skin of late.   I'm "shaking the dust" (Thank you, Anis Mogjani:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u--_-tyuejc)  I feel like I'm plucking barnacles off, and saying goodbye one by one.  I have burst into tears randomly (or have wanted to)--as I look out at my students and hear their insights, as I ride my bike home from work, as I settle into deep relaxation at the end of a yoga practice-- and with each "welling up," I realize I'm simply saying goodbye.   I'm saying goodbye to a period of time, a particular place, particular routines, and an experience or two I wouldn't have minded skipping--but many more I'm glad I've had.  And I'm stripping back down to what's essential to me and in me.

I'm trying to remain present, awake, and alive as I continue to move forward and make changes in my work, my living space,  geographic location, my academic pursuits--and there are times when it feels so overwhelming that I just want to coast through the next two months with my eyes closed.  I try my best not to close my eyes:   It would be a waste of a beautiful Tucson spring, for one.  And, for two?  I run the risk of not moving forward with eyes and heart wide open.  It would be a pity to have come this far, to have worked so hard to put all of these changes in motion...and not even be fully awake as the work comes to fruition.   I slip into moments of hiding from it all, shutting it all off, but...I forgive myself for these moments (and sometimes thank myself for them)...and I move on.

So here's the work:  To remain open even when life feels overwhelming.  To be patient in the midst of flux and uncertainty.  To stop and notice when things are beautiful, and to stop and notice when they're not.  To not cling too tightly to any step along the way, because it's all "along the way."  To remember that even when our skin feels like it's flipped inside out, that it's so much better than going back to sleep and going through the motions.

"Walk into into it, breathe it in...so when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob tightly and open on up and run forward and far into its widespread greeting arms with your hands outstretched before you...fingertips trembling, though they may be."--A. Mogjani

Creating Space

I've been purging material things.  My house is on the market as of this week.  I want for very little in my life, and I know this.  I'm aware that I live a pretty simple existence. ( I am by no means claiming to be a simple person...my friends would laugh at me for that.) I like meaningful work; I like playing outside; I like good food and good drink.  And that's pretty much what I need.  A good dog?  Bonus.  My Beautiful Friends?  More than bonus.  Right now?  The ability to run free and without limitation is enough.

What am I letting into this space that I'm creating?  I'm looking for fierce companions who not only acknowledge their own worth and beauty, but who are willing to truly see those around them.  I will make some missteps along the way and continue to let in people who feign these qualities, but, for the most part, my bullshit meter is pretty attuned these days.  I'm looking for fearlessness, honesty, courage, brilliance, and the ability to be both interested and interesting.  I'm not reserving spaces for anyone in particular, but I am hugely open to experience, and welcoming human connection.  I'm interested in intimacy and connection with people who are unafraid and who are not harboring allegiance to storylines that don't serve them.  I want genuine, authentic connections.  I want rich communication.  I want transparency and the joy and freedom that accompanies this.  This is what I want to fill my space with.  I don't need "things"; I need purposeful and real spaces to inhabit with people who are on this same journey.  If I can meet people honestly, and without artifice?  And they can meet me in this same place?  Then this space I'm creating is filled to the brim with everything I could possibly want and need.

Demons and Destruction and Love

I'm not usually a big one for celebrity gossip, nor do I particularly feel like there's great social import in knowing the in's and out's of people's lives who I don't actually KNOW.  And I fully recognize that the world is filled with tragedy, horrific experiences, and challenges in life that go so far beyond what we, in our western mindset can even begin to fathom.  BUT, if we (in all of our privileged "glory") can't even get it together, then what does that say about us as a culture?

For whatever reason, some things have hit me this year, and have indicated that quite possibly, there is a larger issue here than being a "celebrity" that is causing some amazingly powerful and beautiful women to self-destruct.

And I'm thinking that we haven't "come a long way baby."  I am a forty-something woman.  My cohort was raised by some pretty traditional folks, for the most part.  Regardless of our parents' marital status or their marital happiness, I'm guessing that most of us grew up believing the narrative:  you meet a boy, you get married, you have children, and you're happy.  Even though few of us saw the data that supported the "happy" hypothesis, we bought it anyway.  And pop culture sold, and continues to sell it.  Whitney Houston, the woman who's brought me to my tipping point on this topic, sang, "I want to dance with somebody...with somebody who loves me..."  Well, for crying out loud.  Here's an amazingly gorgeous and talented woman...and she falls prey.  Amy Winehouse.  Demi Moore (not dead, but trying to be).

I spent the bulk of my life rejecting these narrow ideals, but, for some reason about 10 years ago, I decided to give it a go.  A friend of mine, who is very generous, says, "Well, you just had to try it out and make sure...now you know..."  And I realize, at this point in my life, that there is nothing that matters but love. But this love?  This love is for self, for friends, for family, for fellow humans who are on this same path of life.  There is no room for fear, for ego, for ignoring those in need.  What if we all just loved as big as we wanted to be loved?  What if we all were grown ups and respected each other?  Not a bad space.  And for those people who are going to run in fear from themselves or hardship?  I think we should create a small colony for them...and insulate them (though I think this might be a large segment of the population--those completely afraid of authenticity).

Put the baggage down. Put the ego down.  I'm tired of fear. I'm sad for people for whom aging is a negative thing.  I'm sad for people for whom the body is their definition.  And I'm sad for those of us who have, at one time or another, been affected by people who can't see true goodness and what is beautiful in humanity.  There's enough ugliness in the world.  I want to revel in my friends' authenticity.  I want to know that beauty goes beyond a size 6.  I want to know that what is inside of each of us is what makes us who we are.  And if you insist on judging yourself or others by their weight?  I remind you that most of us have been at our skinniest when we have 1) developed a drug problem; or 2) have been in the middle of a divorce.

And I am hoping beyond hope that we won't continue to sit back and tacitly accept bad behavior or lack of ethics as "okay."  Every single person on this planet has the capacity to grow, to deepen their understanding of themselves and others, but to sit back and excuse them when they can't behave gracefully?  Or when they do true harm to others?  That's being complicit in their stunted sense of self and the world.  I hope we will all call each other on our shit.  I know my truest friends, and the people I trust more than any one else in this world, will always, always (usually quite tactfully) let me know when I need to make an adjustment.  If only this honesty was extended to all. Our growth trajectories would be significantly more positive.

What's concerning me most at the moment, is that there isn't enough love.  Our one renewable resource, and we can't seem to generate enough of it to reach out to one another.