Day 151

My son has developed a sudden interest in cooking. He asked me to give him some cooking lessons. Now I am certainly no Julia Childs, but I do know how to chop an onion and crack an egg. We started our lessons yesterday. We made a one skillet meal with potatoes and scrambled eggs. He was thrilled with the results. I enjoyed spending the day together: planning, shopping, chopping, cooking, talking, laughing.

He had no interest in cooking when he was younger. In fact, he preferred pre-made food from a carton; freezer to microwave in under 5 minutes. Mostly, I was too busy to teach him anyway. It was easier to cook for him than teach him to cook. We settled into a habit of convenient meals on the run. Clearly these meals do not effectively nourish the body. Perhaps even more importantly they do not nourish the spirit or provide a space for relationship.

Food is meant to be shared. Sharing in the planning and preparation is secondary only to sharing the food itself. It seems that so many of us have lost touch with the sacred nature of food. We don't have the time to honor food in the way it was intended; as a result we fail to honor ourselves and each other.

Day 150

Lately I've been thinking about getting remarried. Not to another person but to myself. What if I vowed to love, honor and cherish me? Why did it take me so long to realize that self-care is a sacrament?

Day 149

When I was in high school and a fight broke out someone would yell, "Fight!" and a mob would form to watch the action.

I used to think that I was somehow more civilized because I preferred verbal sparing matches to physical ones. But the adrenalin rush was the same.

Today two students got in an argument in my online class. No adrenalin rush. Just the sad understanding that these two people were in pain and they were projecting that pain onto each other.

Day 148

I have not spent much time out on the ocean, but that doesn't stop me from using it metaphorically.

I see my life as a tiny boat in a vast sea. Sometimes it is being racked by waves and salty spray. I am being tossed about, unsure if I will manage to stay afloat.

Other times, like now, the water is calm and I can look out at the glassy surface and enjoy the feel of the sun warming my skin. There is nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the tranquility.

I can speculate and worry about the clouds on the horizon. What's the point? I am no match for the sea. Besides, my business is in the here and now.

Day 147

Yesterday I wrote about my mountain climbing adventure (mountain climbing, hill climbing, whatever, it's all semantics). As Paul Harvey used to say, "And here's the rest of the story..."

With my fear of heights and my fear of snakes whistling through my mind, I stood my ground. My feet firmly planted at the summit, I waited for the voices in my head to quiet down. As I stood there, reminding myself to breath, I looked out at the view and took note of the breeze against my cheek. I decided to continue on; As I came over the crest of the hill I noticed a country road on the other side. I have lived in the same place for 5 years and never knew this road existed. There was a touch of magic in this discovery. I walked down the road and back, passing a friendly looking woman who smiled and said, "Hello."

At this point, I was a little confused about how to get home. I was pretty sure that I would not be able to descend the hill the same way I came up (unfortunately, I left my repelling equipment at home). Just then, I saw the woman I passed on the road ahead of me. I knew she would lead me home. I started to follow her. As I followed, I noticed a hawk overhead, it's shadow circling me on the ground. I experienced a sense of connection to the hawk, to the hills, to the grass, to the air around me. I felt connected and whole. I felt safe.

The woman did lead me home via a gently sloping hidden trail. It turns out that she lives two house down from me. It's nice to have a guardian angel in the neighborhood.

Day 146

There is a big hill behind my house. I enjoy watching the neighborhood kids sled down it in the winter. Yesterday I decided to climb it. When I reached the summit I could feel my heart pounding, not only from exertion, but also from fear.

I have been afraid of heights for as long as I can remember. Although I was standing on solid ground at the top of the hill, I was afraid of falling. I decided to watch the fear, like an outside observer. I listened to the stories it was telling me about how I might fall and be knocked unconscious and left for dead. I know, I know, I was 100 yards from my house and the incline was far from treacherous but that's the story the fear was telling me. As I listened in a detached and nonresistant way, the fear started to subside.

I began to enjoy moving through the tall grass as I looked out at the breathtaking view of Moscow and the surrounding hills. Then suddenly my mind was seized by a single thought, "Snakes!" Here we go again...

Day 145

I heard about a camera that supposedly reveals auras. The people in pictures taken by this camera are bathed in glowing light - the glowing light is the aura. I don't know what an aura is but I find our longing to reveal our essence or true nature interesting. On some level, most of us would love to be able to look at a person and know who they really are. We recognize the futility in this given that it seems impossible to even know ourselves. I have heard it said that trying to know yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth.

And yet, if we really listen, most people reveal a great deal. I was with an acquaintance yesterday who, by way of offering me advice as a new graduate, told me her own story. She said that when she graduated she knew that she had to find a job with health insurance and a pension. She talked about the limited life of the struggling social security system and how those without savings are doomed to a life of suffering. As she was talking I started to see her aura. It was an aura of fear.

Later I thought about how much I want to avoid carrying around an aura of fear. One thing I have learned by studying nonviolent communication is that the feelings are the finger pointing to something bigger. The feelings, if we pay attention, can reveal a need. The need, in the case of my friend, appeared to be safety, security. Her strategy was to get a state job with good benefits. Unfortunately, this did little to quell her fear. Perhaps the feelings of fear aren't related to anything in the external environment. Perhaps the need for security can only be satisfied by finding a safe place within.

Day 144

I woke up today with a single question. What if I did only one thing at a time? What if, instead of eating breakfast while reading a book, I simply ate breakfast? What if, instead of watching television while I exercise at the gym, I just walked? What if, instead of doing dishes while I talk on the phone, I attended only to my conversation? I can hardly imagine it; it sounds like a brave new world.

I am a world class multi-tasker. It suppose it started with my first year of college. My son was a toddler and I was convinced that multi-tasking was a matter of survival. I learned to make peanut butter sandwiches and study for tests at the same time. I also learned to never fully attend to any one thing.

What happens when we give our full attention to the tasks at hand? Perhaps time expands to meet our needs. Perhaps our relationships flourish. Perhaps we finally taste the sweet butter on a biscuit, smell springtime in the air, see the smiles on the faces of the people we pass and experience the simple pleasure of soap bubbles in the kitchen sink. Maybe we never finish reading War and Peace. That's OK too.

Day 143

Lately it seems that the universe is giving me nothing but green lights when it comes to pursuing my dream of being a writer and workshop facilitator. For example, for years a lot of my energy was consumed by worry about my son. Just recently I came to understand that he is capable of taking care of himself. Not only does he not need me, my worry only served to hold him back. Letting go of this obsession frees up energy to do the work I am here to do.

I am still afraid. After all, I might crash and burn (sorry about all the road trip metaphors). I am, however, trying to embrace my fear and recognize that it is part of the process. Paulo Freire said:

"The more you recognize your fear as a consequence of your attempt to practice your dream, the more you learn how to put into practice your dream!"

Day 142

My first job out of college was probably the best I ever had. I was, in essence, a community educator. I traveled from school to school providing workshops as an "expert" on topics related to substance abuse. I discovered myself as a teacher. I wasn't one to lecture; Instead, I enjoyed facilitating learning in engaging and creative ways.

It was during my 20's that I began to fantasize about doing this work in a bigger way, on a larger stage. I visualized myself writing books and traveling to conduct workshops all over the country. I dreamed big. But I was a mom and I had to earn a living; Life got in the way of my dreams. I attended to other needs: the need for an intimate relationship, the need for a place to call home, the need to lose weight (again), the need for more education. Ultimately these needs served as roadblocks, barriers to living my dream.

Now my son is grown, I have a home with a partner I am deeply connected to, and I have finished all the formal education any sane person would want (I suppose that's why they call if a terminal degree). There is no where else to hide. Oh sure, I could put my dream off a little longer, maybe long enough to lose the extra weight. But I have been thin and it didn't magically open any doors. Besides, I have been thinking that maybe the extra weight is just a way to sublimate my real desire to truly live large.

It seems that life has put me here at the freeway entrance to my dream. I can either take a deep breath and put my foot to the floor or I can stand here and panhandle.

Day 141

I just got back from Olympia. Evergreen is an amazing college. My son described it as more hippie commune than traditional college. It's just the kind of place I once imagined myself teaching. I called Bill as I sat in the native plants garden outside the Native American longhouse. He was probably sensing my intoxication with the place when he asked, "So are you going to go by the human resources office? Maybe there's a teaching position for you there." A few years ago this thought would have set my heart racing. What has changed? Have I moved on or simply given up on my dreams?

I am not a member of the community of scholars, the elite club that inhabits academia. I was unwilling to pay the price of admission. Visiting Evergreen tested my level of comfort with that decision. I think I made the right decision, at least for now. Being a college professor, even in a place like Evergreen, can't compete with the life I am creating here in the Palouse. I knew that as soon as I rounded the corner and saw Moscow cloaked in dappled mountains. I was home.

Day 139

I am in Olympia today. It is so beautiful here (How many shades of green are there, anyway?). I love the rain (the air is always freshly showered). It's easy to fantasize about moving here, starting a new life as a professor at Evergreen...However, I am learning that I can appreciate something without having to grasp and possess it. I am learning...

Day 138

I am leaving with Steven to go to Olympia to visit Evergreen. I am looking forward to the time together. There was definitely a time when I didn't enjoy our time together as much as I would have liked. We were like a lot of parents and adult children; it was difficult for us to really connect.

I think that most children long to connect with their parents; they carry this desire into adulthood. We, as parents, can facilitate this connection if we have both the desire and the tools to manifest that desire. For many years I only had the desire. I never stopped to hear what Steven was really saying, to see who he really was. I didn't know how. I wanted to shape him into a person who would reflect well on me. My ego was the chasm between us.

I am learning to listen and accept; Steven is learning to trust and share. Our time together is becoming more precious because it is filled with moments of authentic connection. He's 26 years old and I am finally learning to be the kind of parent I always wanted to be.

Day 137

Conservative estimates suggest that 5,000 barrels of oil are spilling into the gulf everyday from a broken well. For the last few weeks I have been avoiding further details. I prefer not to ponder the implications. Then last night I watched 60 Minutes - they provided a blow by blow recount of the events surrounding the disaster. So much for denial.

Perhaps what disturbs me more than news of the actual disaster is our response to it. Everyone, the companies involved, the media, even our president, seems to be focused on who's to blame. I am, by nature, critical and I have spent a lot of my life energy on the blame game. I am starting to see what a horrible waste of time this really is.

In the case of the oil disaster, blaming distracts us from the real work that needs to be done. We cannot continue to use oil in the ways that we have become accustomed to. If we do, we will continue to choke this planet to death. Disasters like this one are simply the cost of doing business. We are all responsible for changing the way we do business.

Day 136

You must be present to win. Think about it.

Day 135

When I was a little girl my mom was the smartest person I knew. She was also kind and hard working. Why then were we so poor? I couldn't figure it out. Then I went to college and was exposed to social theory in my sociology classes - exploitation of the worker and all that. I started reading feminist theory and came to understand that as a working-class single mother my mom was subject to a kind of double jeopardy.

For me, social theory wasn't some vague abstraction, it provided me with a framework for understanding the world I grew up in. Isn't that what we're all looking for? The right lens that will bring the world into focus, particularly those aspects of the world that were so baffling to us as children. Feminist theory was that lens for me. Once I started to identify as a feminist I joined feminist groups. I was part of a tribe, no longer alone in the world. I found tremendous comfort in that.

Lately, when I try to share my view of the world with other people, the view I see through my feminist lens, I feel them pushing back. They challenge me to reconsider my position. Perhaps the circumstances I see have nothing to do with sexism. Perhaps I need to stop identifying and labeling men and women according to gender. Perhaps I need to start seeing the world through a new lens.

It is frightening to put down the spyglass even it means allowing ourselves a wider range of vision. It is even more frightening to give up our place in the tribe. Sometimes, however, there is more power in standing alone and seeing the world through our own eyes.

Day 134

Everywhere I look there are people dealing with life challenges. I have a friend struggling with an unfulfilling job; Another who has an unidentified illness. Although I empathize with their pain, I also recognize that these circumstances are an invitation to awakening and personal growth.

I know this because I recently came through a challenging period in my own life. I was already struggling to deal with my husband's illness when my son moved away from home and I lost my job. It felt like my world was crashing down around me. Some days I just sat and cried. Sitting with my pain in that way allowed me to heal old wounds that had been festering for years. It took those circumstances to stop the activity long enough for me to attend to my own needs. It was the beginning of a journey toward self-care.

I am still learning how to take care of myself. But I will always remember that it was pain that first opened the door.

Day 133

The sun comes up early these days. Although I am not usually one to get up with the sun, I find myself out of bed by 5:30 a.m. I generally wake with a sense of excitement. This morning, that excitement was accompanied by a feeling of fear. As I reflected on my plans for the day, to look for teaching positions via the Internet, the fear became more embodied.

Sometimes I find it helpful to give my feelings voice. I don't mean to suggest that I merely give voice to my feelings. Instead I detach and allow my feelings to speak to me, recognizing that I am not my feelings. So what is this fear saying? It is saying: "Don't invest too much (time, energy, talent) in getting a JOB. The universe might just have other plans for you. Don't let a JOB get in the way of your life's work."

Wow, I usually think of my fear as an enemy. I try to assuage it by keeping it well fed. Like a stray cat it just keeps coming back for more. When I really listen I realize that it is my friend, it is trying to speak to me. If I listen perhaps I can avoid certain painful paths. The trick is to listen and then send it on its way.

Day 132

Over the weekend I did a little psychic housekeeping. There were a lot of spiritual cobwebs that needed to be swept away. I did a simple cleansing ritual that helped me to let go of those unfulfilled expectations and regrets I attached to my graduate school experience. I could breathe a little easier. Then on Mother's Day, I gave my son a letter expressing some of my regrets for mistakes made as a parent. He read my letter and graciously accepted my amends.

I feel lighter. Sometimes when I am sitting quietly, I can feel my body humming with excited anticipation. On a psychic level, I seem to be saying: "What's next? I'm ready for something new." For the first time in my life, I have let go of the wheel. It is like trusting the ocean to steer my ship. I'm not sure what port I will land in next. I look forward to the adventure.

Day 131

I have made an observation about my writing group. We spend far more time discussing the pieces submitted by men than pieces submitted by women. Coincidence? Perhaps, but 5,000 years of history supports my theory that the men are dominating the group.

This is the very kind of thing that used to really piss me off (OK, maybe it still does). It isn't so much that men seize control. What really pisses me off is that women so often defer to men. I understand the desire to be taken care of by the big, strong patriarch. Perhaps it's so personal because I never really had that and I long for it on some level. Enough psychoanalysis...it doesn't matter why, the real question is: How do I respond?

For years I struggled with this dilemma. Do I acknowledge the inequality and leave or do I stay and fight? Neither of these options seem consistent with the way I want to live my life. Perhaps there is a middle way. I could do the internal work to deal with the psychology factors that complicate the issues for me. This would allow me the space to detach. From a detached position I could observe what is happening and acknowledge it, perhaps call the attention of others in the group to it.

I may learn to accept and live with the situation as it is. Paradoxically this may be the first step to real change.

Day 130

My writing group meets tonight and a sense of dread started to set in a few days ago. There are several members who write pieces that, to my way of thinking, are very esoteric. They are intended for a particular audience. I am not a member of that audience. I am bored by these pieces and don't want to read or comment on them. Yet as a member of the group I feel obligated. Furthermore, as a member of the human race I feel obligated to be nice.

What would happen if I stopped being nice and started being real? I imagine going to the group and, if asked to comment, saying, "I read as much of your piece as I could tolerate. My mind started to wander halfway through the second paragraph. I have no interest in outbuildings." No sniveling apologies. No placating positive comments. No condescending half-truths. Just real feedback based on my own experience. Isn't that what I want from the group?

Obligation binds us to each other in ways that are dysfunctional and ugly. It seems to me that telling the truth (little t, not big T) is the only way to break these ties. What is it that holds us back? For me, it is fear: fear of being ostracized, excluded, abandoned, alone. I have spent many years being untrue to myself (and consequently angry) because I didn't want to face this fear.

Maybe it's time to try.

Day 129

Yesterday I went out to lunch with a friend. We ate at this funky Greek restaurant on Main street. I was pleased that she seemed to appreciate the funkiness as much as I do. This is a new friendship and we are still learning new things about each other. In the process there are sometimes those awkward moments when the conversation appears to be momentarily dead.

There was at least one of those moments yesterday. I panicked, my mind racing. "How will I fill the empty space?" I thought. I let out some weird little sigh (or was it a moan?). I felt my face contort into a strange expression. I said the first thing that popped into my tortured little mind. I don't remember what. It could have been, "So, do you like turnips?" I'm sure it was less than charming.

I would like to bring a little more grace to these situations. I would like to stop and observe what is happening. Pause to ask, "Where did the energy go?" Wait...breath...wait...allow the energy to return to the conversation. If it doesn't, perhaps I need to ask, "What is most alive for me right now?" I could choose to share or I could ask my friend, "What is most alive for you right now?"

Connecting around what is most alive for us is the key to authentic connection. I have been practicing for years and sometimes I feel like I am in the kindergarten class of the School for Authentic Connection. Bring on the finger paints.

Day 128

Today is graduation day in Pullman. Everywhere there are people in caps and gowns, ready to reenact some ancient ritual. They pose for pictures in front of the WSU sign, trying to look brave and optimistic. The ritual of graduation marks the threshold between one phase of life and another. Graduates move not just from stage right to stage left; they enter as students and leave as...what? Most can only imagine what the future holds for them. It is frightening. Ritual, for some, can ease the fear.

I opted not to go to graduation. I prefer a private ritual to mark the occasion. I bought a smudge stick of sage and lavender to cleanse myself of any lingering academic demons. I will light a candle for my future. I will close my eyes and give thanks for the gifts of my education (most of which did not happen in the classroom) and I will say goodbye in order to make room for something new. I will try to be brave, trusting in the wisdom of the universe.

Then I will eat cake. Some traditions are worth holding on to.

Day 127

When I was in the twenties I read books about witchcraft. I suppose I wanted to conjure up the stuff of my dreams, cast spells to manifest my desires. Now, in mid-life as I look back, I realize that my most sincere wishes have been granted.

When I was in my thirties I wanted to be in a committed relationship with a man who was my equal. Bill may not look like he arrived via fairy godmother, but my relationship with him is everything I wished for. In my forties I wished for a home, a place to belong, soil in which to plant deep roots. Living in the Palouse is sometimes like living in a fairy tale for me. I am enchanted by the coffee houses and the people and the magical way the light hits the surrounding hills.

I am only now becoming aware of just how powerful wishes can be. When I was younger I thought that making dreams come true was all about finding the right strategy and employing it effectively. I am starting to realize that there are no magic spells, only clear intentions.

Day 126

I used to work for a psychiatric hospital. I didn't care much for the work but I loved the language. One of my favorite psychiatric terms is free floating anxiety. Like a toxic gas it lingers and persists. I prefer the term free flitting to describe my own anxiety. It is like a hummingbird that flits from one thought to the next. It will feed on my fears about the oil spill in the gulf for a few moments before moving on to thoughts of my son's progress in college.

I hate this little bird that flits in and out of my consciousness. It makes me reluctant to sit or otherwise quiet down; I do not want to be alone with it. I want to capture and eradicate it, although all of my previous efforts have failed. I read a story once about a man who invited his Doppelganger for tea. Perhaps I need to invite the little hummingbird, my anxiety, to tea. Perhaps I need to embrace it, accept it, allow it to be; Perhaps it has something to teach me. Maybe I will stop resisting and start paying attention.

Day 125

I was listening to a friend yesterday recount the struggles she has had with her sister. I was pleased to realized that I am not currently involved in any conflicts with anyone. My family relationships are harmonious, I love and enjoy my friends, and since I work at home it's easy to avoid office conflict. I started to feel a little smug. I must be approaching enlightenment; I am a beacon of peace; Gandhi would be proud.

This morning I sent off a short story to my writing group. I felt good about the piece and looked forward to their feedback. A few hours later I received an email from another member of the group. She also wrote a short piece for consideration by the group. I immediately opened the document and read every word. It wasn't just good; it was breathtaking. I appointed myself judge in an imaginary writing contest between the two of us. Clearly I was the loser. How dare she submit such a beautiful piece of prose?

It really is that easy for me to move from a position of peace and tranquility to imaginary combat. I so want to be the winner, even if it means alienating myself from other people. When will I stop trying to prove how special I am?

Day 124

I was sitting yesterday in meditation while a wind storm, with gusts up to 60 miles per hour, howled outside my window. There was the unmistakable sound of empty milk cartons and other escaped debris crashing against the side of my house. I tried to focus only on my breathing but I could feel my anxiety rise. I seemed to internalize the storm.

This is so often the case with me. If someone close to me is angry I take on that anger and assume responsibility. If someone I love feels sad or lonely or depressed, I find my own mood waning. I am learning that I need to detach. When I separate myself from the other person I avoid getting emotionally flooded and I can more effectively empathize with them. Paradoxically, it is only when I detach that I am able to truly connect. I become the calm in the eye of the storm.

Day 123

"Debbie, you have the most beautiful smiling eyes." This was the compliment I received from a teacher when I was in the seventh grade. I still think that it was the best compliment I ever received. I felt like she really saw me, that she saw right through to my soul.

A few years ago in the midst of my grief and depression I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, "Where did that girl go, the one with the smiling eyes?" It was sad to peer in the mirror and see such weariness and despair. I thought that maybe my eyes would never smile again.

Yesterday I was looking in the mirror and I saw something entirely new. My eyes were neither smiling nor empty. What I saw when I looked into my own eyes was peace. There is a softness in my eyes that was never there before. I suppose that is both the advantage and cost of middle age, everything seems to soften.

Day 122

My most important resource is time. I don't always spend it wisely. This is something I am trying to change.

My intention is to get up each day and decide what feels most alive for me today. What activities do I feel most inspired by? How do I want to spend these precious few hours that lay in front of me?

I will probably never get rich this way, unless I refuse to define wealth by the size of my bank account.

Day 121

Can you see the beauty? What if that was a guiding question in my life? What if I asked myself this question when I am in an argument with my partner? What if this was the question I pondered when I am absorbed in self flagellation? What if I replaced by criticism of others with this question? I have spent a lot of time and energy focused on the ugliness in the world: crime, poverty, conflict. What if I focused on the beauty instead?

I used to work with juvenile offenders, kids locked up in detention facilities and group homes. I was asked to give a speech about my work. It was the morning of my presentation and I still had not prepared any notes. I was standing at my backdoor looking out at the field that bordered my backyard. I would often stand there and curse the person who owned and refused to care for this plot of land. I resented the weeds that threatened to encroach on my property. On this day, however, I saw something different. There were huge sunflowers standing at attention just adjacent to my lawn. How had I missed them before? It was as if they had appeared overnight. I was in awe. My presentation that evening compared the kids I worked with to the weeds that grew in that field, because that's the way most people saw them, as a nuisance, ugly, invasive and dangerous. But if you look closer, you see can see something beautiful in each of them.

Even the most difficult situations hold seeds of beauty. I remember watching the news about the famine in Ethiopia in 1984. It was devastating to see malnourished children dying in their mothers' arms. My own son was a baby at the time and I could feel the pain of those mothers. After days of watching the news, with image after image of those forlorn eyes and swollen bellies, I broke down, sobbing, not only over their misery, but also over my own inability to act. Then I started noticing the response. People from all over the world donated money and supplies. Remember We Are the World? The human response to suffering is a beautiful thing.

The Buddhist say that life is suffering. I don't know why we suffer. I do know that awareness and compassion can transform suffering. It is in the midst of suffering that we most need to ask ourselves: Can you see the beauty?