Capacity, Possibility and Abundance...whew

There are moments when we shrink our capacity, when we expand it, and when we completely seal ourselves off.  In conversations with friends of late, I'm noticing that we're all continually revising our willingness to engage in different experiences in life based on our capacity:  emotional, physical, spiritual, etc. The trap I fell into for a long time was not acknowledging that there were moments when I was full up and couldn't take on any more...and kept taking on more anyway.

I'm proud of us for questioning, for prioritizing, and for saying no when we can and should.

When we can be in spaces we can truly inhabit, and not lose ourselves in constant movement, we can fully see possibility...

And as this school year comes to a close, I realize that there are so many lessons I've learned that I wouldn't trade for anything in this world:
1.  It's completely acceptable to let others know you need them.
2.  It's more than acceptable to set boundaries for what you will and will not do.
3.  Happiness is not something to feel guilty for.
4.  The grass is never greener.  We all stand on our own ground, and it is exactly right.
5.  When you least expect it, bliss will hit you.
6.  We all deserve these moments.

If someone had told me last year at this time that I would feel this light and completely aware of all of the abundance around me, I wouldn't have believed them.  I also know that had I not processed the world and my own experiences as I did (though some of my reactions to circumstances leave me feeling sheepish), I would not be able to walk out as comfortably.  Robert Frost's statement, "the best way out is always through" hits home just about now.

Lest I come across as all Pollyanna, I recognize that this is not a permanent state.  But I was reminded by a lovely friend this evening, as I started to move forward into all I have to do soon, to simply bask for a moment in the completion of one task...and enjoy it for a moment.  And I will.

Stability in Motion

In the midst of things that are ever changing, the opportunity to feel stability is a gift.  I have quit seeing stability as something static.  How could it be?  Those who try to force it to be are the one's who seem the least stable (I know that when I've tried to hold tightly to a state, I'm generally left with lots and lots of matter swirling around me--and smacking me in the face).

And so I've been playing with the idea that I will find stability only as I accept that there is nothing that is static.  This theme has resurfaced, yes, but I'm noting its recurrence and honoring that.

In the past two weeks, I've gone from carrying the most stress I've ever lugged around to a feeling of lightness I didn't know was possible after a year (almost to the date) of weight.  I've been curious about this link between the emotional and physical reactions...realizing that my body would take over if I refused to process feelings...and it wasn't pretty.  The emotions weren't and aren't linked to a demise of a relationship--that's a comfortable and necessary state at this point.  I have no regrets. The emotions were tied to the fact that someone who wished me harm, and who isn't operating on a plane I understand, still had control of certain aspects of my life.  It was difficult to live with (understatement).  With this lifted, giddiness ensued.  And then compassion.  And then giddiness.  And then compassion.  And at that moment, I realized I had set it down--not just for the moment, as I have before, but forever.  I have had a tendency to extend way too much compassion to others and very little to myself.  BUT, in the moment I'm speaking of, I found myself joyous for myself and feeling compassion for an other.  And at that moment, I realized how truly truly free I was.

This marriage of joyousness and compassion may be the answer.  Who knows?  I do know I'm hard pressed to make any huge declarations of late, but that may be as close as I get to certainty for a while.

Pause

I feel as if I'm at that moment when the conductor has his baton raised, but the music has paused at the end of a movement.  I would like this pause to last for a week, but I can feel the next movement about to follow.  I'm not wary of the next section, but I would like for the rest at the end of this line to last just a little longer so I can catch my breath, and lay my bow on my lap. (Or sleep, get a massage, and soak in a hot spring, repeat).

It's amazing how much work can go into things that are unseen.  I breathe freely and with relief.   I smile and soften.  I am soon to be ready for movement beyond the pause.

Surprises

I am easily enchanted by the world around me:  The yellow flame of the palo verde bloom, cottonwood leaves fluttering, finches on the feeder in the morning...yet those who know me well know that although I am highly appreciative of the natural world, there are times when my understanding of this world (from a scientific stance) leaves something to be desired.  Instead of fully understanding a phenomenon, I more likely will create a fantastical story to explain it:  I may be a creator of 21st century mythology, ignoring modern understandings.

I have been paying attention, however, to certain occurrences in my days, and fully reveling in reality:
1)  I saw a gila monster (http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/gila-monster/) Thursday night on a hike with Lyle.  This was a fun surprise (though was glad my dog was smart enough to take a step back, and I had to text a friend to ascertain that this was indeed what I had seen).  A gorgeous animal, a lizard the size of my arm...red and gray and hissing.  He was slow moving and was kind enough to let us know that we simply didn't need to harass him in any way, and we could walk away unscathed.  We agreed.

2)  I've been spending time with a friend who makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts (both a lovely gift and a wonderful surprise), who is wise and smart (as we know,  these are two very different things).  I find that when I spend time with people who can move through the world comfortably in their own skin, I can be fully myself, with no artifice or apology.

3) My students surprise me every day--their words and their responses to tasks I ask them to complete surprise me in the best possible way--those moments when what you hoped was going to happen, indeed, does.

There's an interesting balance to be struck between believing that great things will happen, but allowing yourself to be surprised when they do anyway.

Surprises can be surprises because we let them.  I have thought a lot about how my yoga practice allows me to be better prepared off the mat...to breathe through the negative surprises (and to ask myself:  what about that really surprised you?)  as well as the positive and embrace them all.  I am trying very hard to not be caught off guard by events that don't necessarily engender calm feelings in me.  I have been tripped up a couple of times in the last few days.  I wonder at this, but also know I am not superhuman.  And I cope as I do.  No judgment.  This, in itself, is new for me.  Too often I've beaten myself up for not having as much grace as I'd like in the face of certain life events.  These fissures, however, are just part of being human; maybe I can reframe this and become more and more proud of my own fallibility.  I can at least try.

Ideals

I am watching the world of education become so seriously derailed from what's right and good that I can hardly see straight any more.  I've taken the year off from being overly involved in any sort of systemic thinking about education.  I've needed to get really clear on what exactly I'm fighting for in this world.  And each day I work with students and teachers who remind me just how imperative this all is.  And it's not an argument about teacher salaries, unions, privatization, or even about what classes students should take.  It's an argument for creating spaces where students can think critically and creatively, where we can have real conversations about real topics, and where students can learn that their voice matters, and that a carefully constructed argument and confidence trumps bling or a fist fight any day.  

Unfortunately, I also live in an area that has let itself become mired in politics and not what's best for students.  I watch and listen to some of the most ignorant people I have encountered make decisions for our future.  And I shake my head at the agendas being put forth.  We are surrounded by people who operate out of fear, and who insist that their belief systems are "correct"...as if any of us can find any one viewpoint to set above all others at any given time.  

And my professional feelings spill into my personal life.  I realize that I'm becoming increasingly sensitive to people whose agendas overrule who they are, whether these be a desire to be perceived as something "more" than they are, or a desire to prove that they are "cool"or worth loving.  I am not 20 years old any more.  I don't want to one-up you, or feel the need to.  And I don't want you to position me as if I should. We all hope that we've moved past this by now.  (NOTE:  I wear my own insecurities on my sleeve, as I do my feelings...and I am just as susceptible to ego as anyone else...).  There are people who are able to live without blaming; these people are also able to find a way to take responsibility for their own actions.  And these people are happier, believe it or not, than those who shove everything deep deep inside and project only their feigned confidence.  I promise.  I want to scream:  "Have the courage to be imperfect for christ's sake."  Shake the facade.

That's what I really really want these days.  I want every person to say, "Hey, that one was me.  I own that" when they should.  And I want these same people to say, when they shouldn't be shouldering the shit they are, to say, "Nope, I won't carry that.  I am going to let that go."  And, then, maybe, we could have some realistic private and public discussions about what's real in this world.

Stepping Into...

Sometimes it's necessary to fully step outside of everything to be able to stand fully in your life again.  I love the gift of a hiatus.  I love the days of no alarm set, of random motion, of pausing to stare at nothing and everything, and of letting thoughts flow in and out with no need for focus.  I am reminded, in these moments, of the necessity of being receptive to the world around me.  Tonight's yoga practice highlighted  the importance of simply stepping into the spaces that offer you opportunities to receive the gifts available--whether these gifts are those of a yoga practice, of nature, or the quiet of your own company.  These gifts are not finite.  I can step into the sun, I can bask in someone's smile, and there's always more love--a renewable resource.  Amazing how that works.

Going Undercover

This quote is one I sent to a friend years ago.  I did not write out the attribution, nor do I have any idea where I stumbled upon it.  This friend, however, sent it back to me recently.  We haven't talked in years.  But the message was a timely one for me:

DO NOT SUFFER FROM LONELINESS

Go outside.

Go away.

It's all the people making you lonely.

Pick a spot on the horizon and head straight for it.

Weave your way through a stand of redwoods.

Kayak an ocean chain.

Peer over your toes at the edge of a canyon.

Go to your favorite place...Again and again.

This is what you need to do.

Not just because it fuels your independence.

But because it reminds you you're a part of something bigger.

I have spent the past months reconnecting, asking for support, asking for time and energy from others.  I have loved being in touch with so many people from different facets of my life whom I love.  I have appreciated every single moment and every single word of kindness.  And, obviously, I'm still sharing in a public way how I'm moving through and thinking about life and the world.

This being said, however, it is time for me to return to the "wilderness."  My "wilderness" not only includes where, but how I operate in my days.  I have sought too much solace from others instead of owning the fact that I need to tend to myself--there comes a place and time when you have to hold your own hand, pull yourself up (or let yourself crash to the ground, whatever the case may be).  I simply need to quiet and be.  To listen carefully.  It is time for paper letters sent out into the universe with no expectation of a speedy reply.  It is time for dark, starry nights with only my dog as company.  It is time for me to shake the fears that are showing up in my nightmares recurrently.  It is time to shake the dust.  It is time to reclaim what I believe and what I need.  It is time to acknowledge that sometimes, truly, things can go on too long.  And the toll is too much.  And too much is too much no matter who you are.  

Gretel Ehrlich, in The Solace of Open Spaces says, "We fill up space as if it were a pie shell, with things whose opacity further obstructs our ability to see what is already there" (p. 15).  

The desert has provided me with an unobscured landscape to dwell in for the past twelve years.  I do not like the desert.  I am not cozy and comfortable here, but apparently, there is more for me to learn before I leave.  I have committed myself to this space for another year.  I have resisted the urge to cut and run many times.  This particular wilderness is one that forces me to shift my perspective on a regular basis--as the lighting and time of year shifts, so does my appreciation for my surroundings.  It is a good place to recognize, without anything to sugar-coat the experience, that you are there no matter where you go, and until you sort that out, well, no lush landscape will do it for you.  We are each moving through alone, no matter how much love surrounds us (or how little).  I hope to go back to the idea of simply doing no harm as I move through.  That's a valiant enough goal for me right now.