Day 182

I have chronic allergies and sinusitis. Yesterday, I was having a particularly annoying bout of sneezing and stuffiness when I decided have a little talk with my sinuses. The conversation went something like this:


I said: "So, what do you want? Why are you here? What are you trying to teach me?"


Much to my surprise, my sinuses replied, " I am shutting you off from the world for a little while. See how your breathing is restricted? I'm trying to tell you that sometimes you are too open. You need to remove yourself from the world once in a while - take time to be truly alone."


Hmmm. My sinuses were sounding pretty wise so I decided to take their advice. I got out my noise canceling headphones and a blindfold and planted myself in a comfortable position on the futon in my office.


Without any noise or light from the outside world, I could only hear my own Darth Vadar-like breathing. It was like being in an isolation chamber. I felt like I was floating. I stayed that way for maybe 10 minutes before I decided to return to the world.


When I did return, I could breath a little easier. Maybe my sinuses just wanted to be heard.

Day 181

I am fortunate to have some really brilliant, creative, dynamic friends. I feel honored when they share their dreams with me; I get excited about the visions they have to create beautiful spaces and connections; I want to support their art. Lately, I have found myself offering my support in a way that is new for me.

I usually say something like this: "I would enjoy supporting you and your work. Please let me know what I can do to be supportive." I never used to do this because I was afraid of being taken advantage of...I was afraid of invoking suspicion in others....I was afraid...

My fear kept me from one of the most basic pleasures in life, the pleasure derived from contributing to the lives of others in meaningful ways. I suspect that on some level we are here to serve each other. What would the world be like if we offered ourselves in service to the world without fear or apology?

Day 180

One of my favorite movies is What About Bob? with Bill Murray. The uptight psychiatrist tells the incredibly neurotic Bob to "take a vacation" from his problems.

Summertime always makes me think about vacation although I haven't taken many in my life. Mostly, I haven't felt the need, or more accurately the need has not been pressing enough to warrant the expense.

I am fond of mini-vacations: going out to lunch with friends, sitting on my patio with a book, daydreaming...There are opportunities every day to take a vacation from my problems, even if only for a moment.

Day 179

When I was a teenager and young adult one of my primary goals in life was to turn other people to my will. I would plead and threaten and cajole to get the people in my life to do what I wanted them to do. I didn't think much about the consequences.

Oh, yes, there were consequences. When people are manipulated into doing things that they do not want to do, they usually become angry and resentful. This resentment can fester and grow only to be revealed weeks, months or years later. The manipulator pays the price.

I have paid for my manipulations on more than one occasion and I have finally wised up. Now, I never want people to give me more than they want to. Please do not sacrifice your own needs and desires for mine. Do not put me and my needs first. If you take care of you and I take care of me, we all get taken care of.

Day 178

I'm not a Christian in the traditional sense: I don't go to church or read the Bible but that doesn't stop me from observing the sabbath. I just seems like a good idea to take a day to rest.

It's not that I don't do anything; it's that I don't do anything I don't want to do. Sometimes I condition my hair, somethings I read a book, somethings I cook, sometimes I do all of the above. I try to minimize or ignore obligations. There are few things that can't be pushed into next week.

Before the day is over, I like to spend a little time thinking about the coming week - I imagine it spread out before me, a blanket of opportunity. I wonder if that's what God had in mind when she decided to rest after creating the earth and sky.

Day 177

I finally joined Facebook and I am trying to develop a Facebook page. It all sort of makes me feel like I am back in junior high. My mom told me she has over 100 friends. I only have one and it's her. I never had a lot of friends in school. I blamed the fact that I was never in the same school for more than 1 year but secretly feared that it was something else...something missing...something wrong...

I never really tried to fit in. I was a drama geek who wore long skirts, black tights and flats. I still can't identify the latest fashion. Just last week I started noticing the initials DG stamped every wear on sunglasses and t-shirts. I let my imagination run wild but never did unlock the code. I am obviously out of the loop. I am not one of the cool kids and I suspect I never will be.

Does anyone ever really graduate from junior high or do we just keep reliving it? Maybe the desire to be popular, to rise to the top of the social ladder, is built into our DNA. But we can't all be star quarterbacks and head cheerleaders. Perhaps real success comes from learning to be ourselves. I'm still working on it...

Day 176

We had scarcely said, "Good morning" before Bill and I were locked in debate over the relative merits of logic as a tool in argumentation. Bill, clinging to modernist roots was not swayed by my post-modern assertions. I can hear the yawns as I write this. Certainly many people would not enjoy the discussion of esoteric ideas the way we do but it is one of the hallmarks of our relationship.

I have always loved ideas. I love to hold hold them up to the light, turn them around to examine every side, and lob them across the net in a volley of discussion. Unfortunately, for much of my life, I used them as weapons. Sometimes I would defeat my enemy through skillful rhetorical jabs. Other times I was mortally wounded in verbal fencing matches.

I made the mistake of thinking that I was my ideas and my ideas were me. I tried to gain acceptance and respect by selling others on the merits of my worldview. Validation (or was it love) was the prize at stake in every round of debate. I used ideas to build walls instead of bridges.

Today, I am learning to debate recreationally, not as a dual to the death. I am learning to listen more and hold on loosely to my beliefs. Beliefs, after all are like soap bubbles created by our minds. They are fun to look at but seldom hold any real substance.

Day 175

I am on the board of an organization committed to conflict resolution. What do we do when a conflict arises in our ranks? We put our heads in the sand and pretend. Usually people are drawn to work that will help them resolve their own internal struggles. People who are drawn to conflict resolution work are very often conflict avoidant.

There are five board members for this organization. Of the five, three are committed to real change, forging ahead in a new direction. One is indifferent, not really committed to the organization in any substantive way. The third seems invested in the status quo, resistant to change. This individual is perceived as the leader of the group; other group members defer to her primarily because she has devoted a lot of time and energy to the organization.

This is not the first time I have found myself in this situation: pushing for change and dealing with resistant individuals. However, my perspective has changed. I am now committed to finding solutions that meet the needs of all concerned. It begins by believing that it is possible.

Day 174

When I was in my twenties, I worked with a man who I perceived as an old hippy. He was always going to weekend workshops on various wu-wu topics and techniques. I remember asking him once about his plans for the weekend; he said that he was going to a breathing workshop. I had a good laugh over that. A breathing workshop? I was pretty sure that I didn't need a breathing workshop, after all I had been breathing my whole life.

Today I was talking with a friend who was stressed out. The best advise I could give? Breath. In fairness, it is the advise I most often give to myself when I feel overwhelmed, frustrated, afraid...

On a physical level, conscious breathing offers relief from the tightness and constriction that accompany stress. I sometimes actually forget to breath; other times I pant like a dog. I need a little reminder. Breath. More importantly, conscious breathing slows down a racing mind. It forces a focus on the here and now and prevents catastrophizing.

All this and it's absolutely free!

Day 173

I committed to a project, to conduct an assessment for an organization that I belong to. Now I find my motivation to complete this project waning. I have to remind myself why I committed in the first place.

Committing to this project was a way to contribute to others in the group and to the community in a meaningful way. At times I am not so sure I am doing that. Perhaps my findings will make some people uncomfortable. Perhaps they will be disruptive.

I suppose it all comes down to integrity. I made a commitment and following through meets my need for integrity. I have to realize that I am not responsible for the outcome. I agreed to do the footwork, without any guarantees. How other people respond to my work is their business.

Some days I just need a little pep talk.

Day 172

I had a dream last night; someone I love was in prison. It was painful to visit and see him confined and herded about like an animal.

I have been fascinated with prisons and prisoners for most of my adult life. I used to speculate about why and imagine that perhaps I was a prisoner myself in a previous life or that I was experiencing a premonition of events to come. I suspect that the truth is much less fantastical.

We are all imprisoned in various ways. We lock parts of ourselves away in psychic cells. We create cellblocks of fear and shame. I sometimes imagine going into these cellblocks with a flashlight, illuminating every dark corner. I imagine unlocking the cell doors and leaving them wide open.

I long to be free. I suspect, however, than I cannot truly be free until all sentient beings are free.

Day 171

It has hard to get out of bed this morning. It was raining and I could hear the plink, plink, plink of drops hitting the gutter above my window. It had a hypnotic affect. Every time I thought about getting up or what I might do today, I was drawn back to the plink, plink, plink. I would surrender and become one with the rain.

It was torturous to be drawn away from my egoic existence and, at the same time, beautiful to dwell for a few moments in the sanctity of the now.

Day 170

I had friends over today for lunch. They stayed until dinner time which, to my way of thinking, is a sign of success. It is success worth celebrating because there was a time when I seldom invited company to my home. When I did I obsessively cleaned and frantically planned. I worried about whether they would like the food, whether they would like my house, whether they would like me.

I have learned a few things about throwing a party. I invite people who I like, people who like me, people who are not inclined to judge my worth by the quality of my furnishings. I make food that I enjoy and take pleasure in sharing it. I focus on the conversation instead of the dirty windows. I'm sure that Martha Stewart would be appalled. That's why I never invite her.

Day 169

Sometimes I encounter a person in a social situation that I simply do not like. I find myself being critical and abrasive and, in some cases, openly hostile. If I really examine what is going on in these situations I find that I am frustrated by an inability to connect.

Some people put up walls to keep other people out. Sometimes I put up walls, maybe because the other person reminds me of someone from my past, someone with whom I have unfinished business.

How can we begin to poke holes in those walls so that we can really see each other? Perhaps the next time I find myself face to face with a person I don't like I need to try to see beyond the walls that stand between us. It might be as simple saying: "Tell me more about yourself," and then listening for the sound of our common humanity.

Day 168

I am told that when I was very young I had unexplained convulsions. My parents took me to a doctor who explained these convulsions as the inability of my body to keep pace with my brain. According to family lore, he proclaimed me to be a child prodigy, a genius of sorts. My parents, being young and naive and in need of hope, believed him. I grew up believing that I was special. It took me 40 years to understand that I am not.

I enjoyed being special. At times it gave me an edge, a certain confidence that I would succeed. But it was also a burden. Being special is a responsibility - I felt compelled to accomplish great things, to save the world.

I was finally able to lay down this burden when I realized that everyone is given special gifts and talents. What we do with those gifts and talents depends, to a large extent, on the circumstances and opportunities that we encounter. The best that we can do in life is to be aware and take advantage of the opportunities that come our way, to use our gifts to make our little piece of the world a better place.

Day 167

I've been reading books by a woman named Caroline Myss who identifies herself as a medical intuitive. She reads the energy of her clients to identify and treat disease and illness. I've been thinking a lot about this while idea of energy.

Clearly we experience more energy relative to certain tasks, activities, and relationships. We seem to be energized by some experiences and deenergized by others. Perhaps we get a charge from those experiences that meet our needs. In which case the reverse would also be true.

I've been thinking about conducting a little experiment. What if I consciously pay attention to and follow the energy? Where will it lead me? What if I only engage in activities that meet my needs? Is that possible? I suspect that personal power is all about harnessing the energy and that the best way to do that is to pay attention and respond to my needs. I think I have a hypothesis.

Day 166

I heard a story on the radio yesterday about a blog that was created for a plastic bag stuck in a tree. The Walmart bag, named Wendy, has been stuck in this tree for 2 years. She has thousands of followers.

Why are so many people interested in following the life of a plastic bag? I have a theory. I think that we all long for connection. Our lives, with all the trappings of modernity, lead to feelings of disconnect. We are disconnected from the natural world, from each other, from our true selves. Connecting with a plastic bag in a tree, however absurd, is one way to reaffirm our interconnection.

So often my own actions have been motivated by a longing to connect. I searched and studied and pleaded in prayer. But it wasn't until I started sitting as a regular practice that I began to understand what it means to be connected.

This morning as I was sitting, the window was open. I could hear a tractor mowing the field behind my house, the windchimes on my neighbors porch, birds singing and cars driving by. The boundaries start to blur and I understand that I am connected to it all; I am a small part of the vast, amazing universe, just like Wendy, the plastic bag caught in a tree.

Day 165

A few days ago I heard someone say, "The world is divided into two kinds of people. Those who believe that the world is divided into two kinds of people and those who don't." I suspect that most people believe that the world is divided into two kinds of people: us and them. For me, growing up, the us was poor people and the them was rich people.

The "rich" people were represented in my world by my teachers who wore fancy clothes and drove new cars and lived on the other side of town. Then there were the people who came at me via the television, the Brady kids who came home to sandwiches made by Alice, the good-natured housekeeper.

I was mostly surrounded by poor people: people who didn't own homes or much of anything else, people who led hardscrabble lives. I knew that some people looked down on us, but I came to see us as superior in many ways: stronger, more generous, easy going and quick to laugh. I used to love to ride the Sunday school bus to the baptist church across town and hear the charismatic preacher rail against the rich: the image of a camel trying to get through the eye of a needle so vivid in my mind.

I carried this us and them mentality into adulthood. I still feel an affinity with poor people. I am suspicious of all others. Dividing up the world in this way is costly. It denies a fundamental truth. There is really only one kind of people: us.

Day 164

My mom has given me a lot of gifts over the years. Perhaps the greatest gift is in her teaching me to be grateful. She taught me to practice gratitude, not by telling me I should be grateful or by pointing to the misfortunes of others. She taught by example. She faced many challenges, including poverty and illness, but she always remained grateful.

Mostly she was grateful to be my mom. She always told me, and my brother, how fortunate she was to have us in her life. I always knew that my presence was a blessing to her. It seems that gratitude is an unending circle.

Day 163

I went on a little road trip with some friends today to visit a magical retreat center in rural Idaho. It was energized by the sunshine and the mountains and most of all the conversation.

I sometimes imagine that my life energy is contained in a bucket I hold inside. Some relationships and certain activities seem to fill the bucket to overflowing. Others poke holes in the bucket and cause my energy to drain out uncontrollably.

I guess I need to keep a closer eye on that bucket.

Day 162

Working at home allows me to control my own schedule. Unfortunately, I sometimes forget to schedule a day off. With this in mind I proclaimed today to be an official holiday from work. Once the proclamation was made I had to decide what to do.

I've found that slowing down the brain is crucial to relaxation. For me, there are few things more relaxing than cooking. Now I'm not talking about the kind of cooking you do when you have hungry children to feed. I'm talking about the kind of creative culinary experiences that engage all of the senses.

Making cookies in my kitchen as I listen to NPR is my idea of heaven. I love the ooze of raw cookie dough between my fingers. Of course the only thing that compares to the smell of fresh baked cookies is biting into one: hot, crispy on the edges and gooey in the middle.

When I am baking cookies the rest of the world seems very far away. When I am ready to reconnect, I have cookies to share. Bonus!

Day 161

Sometimes life seems to move past me like a movie in fast forward.

I close my eyes and I am nine years old again playing with friends in the backyard, painting my fingernails for the first time. Those bright purple fingernails no less vivid in my memory.

Wasn't it just yesterday that I was crossing the street with my son, his tiny hand in mine, so aware of how much he needed me? Now my child isn't a child anymore. He is an adult with his own life, separate from me in so many ways.

Wasn't it a moment ago that I met my partner and fell in love? In my mind I can clearly remember our wedding vows; joy following so closely on the heels of the 9/11 tragedy. Was that really 9 years ago?

The moments of my life seem like sand falling through my fingers. I try to hold on to no avail. I am troubled by the pace with which my life changes. I look around for something to hold onto, something to which I can cling in order to avoid the disorienting affects.

If I sit and breathe and allow myself to sink into the present moment, if I allow my thoughts to merely drift by, if I refuse to get hooked, I find the unchanging nucleus of my life. This is the place of peace. This is the place I can always return to regardless of the circumstances "out there." It is only a moment and then it is gone.

Day 160

One of the things I find interesting about middle-age is the increased sensitivity of my body's early warning system. When I was in my 20's I could abuse my body in a myriad of ways and wake up only slightly groggy - recovering quickly to do it all over again. But now, if I don't get enough sleep or I eat the wrong thing my body let's me know in no uncertain terms that I better change my ways or there will be hell to pay.

Yesterday I woke and looked in the mirror at a mass of dry, frizzled hair, a huge zit just under my nose and the beginning of a cold sore. I think it was the cold sore that spoke to me most clearly.

It said, "Listen, we both know that you have been a little too focused on taking care of other people lately. What about Debbie? When are you going to start taking care of her? Look at yourself, you are a mess. You didn't exercise or meditate yesterday and you're eating way too much chocolate. Wake up girl! This is not a dress rehearsal. If it were, you would be playing the old hag because that's what you look like today. Now go put your feet up for a while, read a book, breathe...and for God's sake get a good conditioner."

Cold sores can be nasty.

Day 159

I heard once that all behavior is either a cry for help or an expression of gratitude, a please or a thank you.

I used to work with kids who had severe "behavior problems." By "behavior problems" I mean that their behavior was a problem for the adults in their lives. I remember one little boy that I was assigned to work with. He was six years old with red hair, freckles and a reputation for spitting on people when he was angry. He was usually angry.

As I got to know his family, it was easy to see why. His mom and dad were ill equipped for the task of parenting and the kids were chronically deprived. Spitting, for my little friend, was a way of telling the world just how unsafe he felt.

I sometimes try to imagine a world where instead of punishing my little friend we would see past his behavior to the pain. What would happen if we all decided to love him anyway?

Day 158

I have a lot of fear around money. Growing up, there was a sense that there wasn't enough. It seemed that we were always on the verge of catastrophe. And yet, somehow we always managed to get by. In fact, my mom was the kind of person who would use her last dollar to take us out for ice cream. We were encouraged to enjoy life today. Who knows what tomorrow might bring.

My son did not grow up with the same sense of scarcity. He seems confident that the universe will always provide everything he needs. I suspect he is right.

Day 157

Lately I feel that all is right with the world; My relationships are in order; There is an ease to my life that is calming and enjoyable. This kind of happiness would have scared the shit out of me a few years ago. I used to see happiness as a sign of impending doom. I knew that it would never last. I had to brace myself for the fall.

Today I am more confident that I can handle whatever life brings my way. This trust in myself allows me to ease into the now and truly enjoy the gifts that each moment brings. I know that the future will likely bear both pain and joy. I am here to experience it all. The roulette wheel keeps spinning.

Day 156

Many problems in my life are created by not trusting my feelings. I have been trained to trust my thoughts instead.

Imagine, for example, that my dream is to be an opera singer. I invite a group of friends to hear me perform. I tell them afterwards that I would like their honest feedback about my performance. They hem and haw and tell me that they love the dress I was wearing. I feel disappointed. Why? Because my need for honesty was not being met.


Instead of repeating my request for honest feedback, I often do something else. I start to think. I think about why they might have responded as they did. I think about the words they used and what the words might mean. I start to attach all kinds of meaning to their words. I think about whether or not my feelings are justified. I weave stories that serve as justification.



I get into trouble when, instead of trusting my feelings, I think about my feelings and make up all kinds of stories related to them. Feelings are nothing more and nothing less than fingers pointing to needs. Needs can be caught and released or translated into requests. Requests allow is to claim our power in the world. But first, we have to pay attention to the feelings.

Day 155

It is reported that Suzuki-roshi used to say to his students: "All of you are perfect just as you are and you could use a little improvement." I have been trying to hold these two seemingly contradictory thoughts at the same time, to accept myself as I am right now and to know that changes might also be good.

For example, I would like to be a better listener. I would like to create a safe place for others to share their pain and joy with me. I would like to experience authentic connection with those around me. Yet I recognize that I do all kinds of things that get in the way. Rather than beat myself up,I am trying to accept the circumstances I find myself in, observe my thoughts and actions and hold an intention for meaningful change.

I suppose it is growth that lets us know we are alive.

Day 154

When I am dishonest I seem to create little (and sometimes not so little) puddles that I ultimately step in. My dishonesty is usually not overt; I am more often guilty of sins of omission.

Just recently I had some complaints about how my writing group was functioning. Time and attention were not being equally distributed among the various members. Some members, in my opinion, were getting more than their share.

I could have shared my concerns openly with the group as a whole, but I didn't. Why? I suppose I was scared of being labeled petty or a trouble maker, or even worse, I could have been misunderstood or ignored. It's easier to just keep quiet...well, not exactly. When I don't speak up for my needs the feelings associated with them continue to nag at me. Rather than let them eat away from inside I let them out in dribs and drabs.

Instead of confronting the group directly, as a group, I talked to individual members, those I felt most safe with. I even wrote about my concerns here. This was dishonest. My actions have created friction in the group and I have regrets. My small concerns have now taken on more baggage.

We meet tonight and I have another opportunity to be honest. Maybe it's time to unpack these bags and move on.

Day 153

I have people in my life who struggle with sadness and depression. On some level I used to think that it was my fault. I would search for what I might have done to cause this pain. I was convinced that if I did all the right things I could cure them. So many of us who were raised with an alcoholic (or otherwise incapacitated) parent carry this kind of burden. If only we could save the people we love...

I am learning to observe these thoughts and feelings in a detached way. They are part of the story I tell myself about myself. My mind says, "If only I were a better wife/mother/friend I could prevent or ease his suffering." When I hear this voice, I have to take two giant steps back. Looking at the relationship from a distance I know that his suffering is his own to carry. It serves a purpose that I cannot understand. In this context, love becomes a calling. It is, quite simply, all that matters.

Day 152

Sometimes my thinking can be a little obsessive. I get an idea in my head and carry it around and chew on it like a dog with a bone. I recognize that this is somewhat abnormal. Ironically, my thinking lately has been focused on the idea of normal.

I started reading some literature from the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) community. It seems that many people in that community want to be identified as normal. Why? As I look around, a lot of people seem to be motivated by this need to be normal (or at least be perceived to be normal). I see people going to jobs they hate to buy houses with manicured lawns and granite counter tops and send their kids to "good" schools so that they too will be normal. When I was a kid my mom wanted a house with wall to wall carpet. Wall to wall carpeting was normal.

Normal is an artificial construct that keeps us in line and makes us dance ever faster to keep up. I suppose on some level we are afraid of being pushed out of the tribe. In truth, few of us are normal. The bell shaped curve only has one true center. There are strange and wondrous beings beneath our normal facades. Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young had a song in the 60's that said: "I feel like letting my freak flag fly." Maybe it's time to get those freak flags down from the attic and unfurl them again.