Day 334

Sometimes when I am sitting I will repeat this statement: Right now I am aware that ______. I fill in the blank with whatever awareness comes to mind.

Today I was most aware of various discomforts. Right now I am aware that I am cold. Right now I am aware of a pain in my head. Right now I am aware that my stomach is growling.

I am trying to learn to accept the discomforts that I am inflicted with every minute of every day. Otherwise, I spend so much of my life energy attending to them or avoiding them.

Day 333

I just started teaching a new online class. I have a "mentor" who provides me with feedback on my interactions in the classroom. This morning she sent me an email with a strongly worded recommendation.

Frankly, it pissed me off. Fortunately, I didn't respond out of that energy. I thanked her for her feedback and then spent a little time trying to determine the source of my anger.

I find that I am generally angry when confronted with my own mistakes. I try very hard to be perfect: to follow the rules and do what is expected of me. I have a need for connection which I try to meet by gaining the approval of those in authority. When I fail my need for connection goes unmet and I get angry.

I am trying to learn that there are other ways to connect. I can get acceptance and approval without being perfect.

Day 332

I have a little sign in my office that says: Choose to Feel. It is there to remind that even (especially) my most painful feelings need to be acknowledged and honored. Sometimes it is hard to find the balance between honoring my feelings and building a shrine to them that I feel compelled to return to day after day. There is a fine line between self care and self indulgence.

For the last couple of days I have been feeling a little sad. It is easy to get caught up in tracing the etiology of the sadness. Where did it come from? What is the source? In the end, it really doesn't matter. Life is full of pain and loss; sadness is a natural consequence of living. More important than tracing the origin of my pain is giving it time and space, just letting it be.

Just like the snow outside my window it will soon melt away and I will once again be warmed by the sun.

Day 331

Bill and I rented DVDs this week of a television program called In Treatment. It's about a therapist and his patients. One after another they come in and explore the issues that brought them to therapy. It's very intimate, almost voyeuristic.

After watching several episodes yesterday I started to realize that every patient was dealing in some way with the same issue. They were each struggling with issues of separation and individuation between themselves and their parents and/or themselves and their children.

Suddenly I found myself sobbing as I realized how painful it has been for me to separate from my own child. She is in her 20's now. My job as a parent is largely over. There are no more do-overs. What it was is what it is. It's time to let go.

I remember being on the other side of this process when I was in my 20's. I moved across the country, in part to establish my own life, separate from my mother. I never thought about how painful that must have been for her. Life has a funny way of coming full circle.

Day 330

There are times in my life when the universe has spoken to me in a clear, forceful voice. There were a few times when I listened and did exactly what my intuition guided me to do. In each case, I was rewarded in ways I could not have imagined. There were other times when I ignored my inner voice because I was afraid or insecure. Each time there was a price to pay for refusing to honor my truth.

Lately that voice that I have come to recognize as Divine Inspiration has been instructing me very clearly. It speaks one word, over and over again. It says: "WRITE!"

Writing is difficult. It requires discipline and focus. It is lonely. At times, even painful. I'm not even sure I'm very good at it or that anyone outside of my small circle of friends and family will ever find value in what I write. Some days (most days) I think that I would prefer baking cookies or watching Oprah. But still that voice speaks to me and I know that right now I am supposed to write.

I have to trust that voice. Writing for me, at this point in my life, is an act of faith.

Day 329

I read this poem a few days ago. A perfect sentiment for Thanksgiving.

Thanks
By W.S. Merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in the office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

For me, it is a reminder that gratitude is a practice that can be cultivated regardless of circumstance. Perhaps it is a natural state that we strive to return to.

Day 328

It is November 24th and all I want to do is cook turkey and bake pies until the house smells like the holidays. Where did I get this idea that the holidays have a smell?

I want to artistically arrange plates and silver and stemware to create an "inviting" tablescape. This from a person who does not own a tablecloth.

I want to stand in line for sales that are "too good to pass up" and buy new electronics that I do not need.

I want to gather with family and smile just like the people in the commercials.

The mind is weak.

Day 327

Yesterday I wrote a little about my relationship with food. When I read it back, I was a little embarrassed. I thought about erasing it and starting over. My relationship with food and my weight are one area of my life where I have a lot of shame.

Through writing, and especially through blogging, I am learning to reveal myself. There is the temptation to only reveal those parts of myself that are wise and kind and beautiful, to leave the ugly parts buried where no one can see them.

The ugly parts are the ones that most need to be revealed. Shame is binding. Like a mutant plant with tendrils that wrap around us and limit our movement it thrives in darkness. The only way to kill it is to shine a light on it.

The shame is not a indication that we should hide but a call to speak out.

Day 326

A few years ago I saw a nutritionist. We talked about my eating habits and she was amazed at the number and complexity of rules that I have about food. Here are a few examples:

Eat three vegetables and three fruits everyday (not some days, not most days, every day!).
Eat protein with every meal.
Plan meals and snacks at the beginning of the day.
Write down meals and snacks at the end of the day.
Never eat sugar without protein.
Never ingest drinks with calories.
And my personal favorite: limit complex carbohydrates to makes room for simple sugar.

I know, it sounds a little crazy, but it is one of the side effects of compulsive dieting (even if you call it a "lifestyle change").

Today I ate exactly what I wanted when I wanted it. It was liberating, until I decided to count all up all the calories I consumed. That is one of my most stubborn rules: ye must keep a running tally of all calories consumed in a given day. Oh well, baby steps.

Day 325

Bill and I were house sitting for a friend this weekend. She has a beautiful home just outside of the small town of Troy. We enjoyed eating lunch in Troy yesterday, then going back to the house and sitting in front of the fireplace. The windows in her living room provide a panoramic view of the distant mountains and a more close-up view of local wildlife.

We got up this morning, built a fire and sat in front of the windows sipping tea. I was too limp to even pick up a book. I was thinking about this state of tranquility and about how I need to get away more often. Suddenly the heard a crash in the other room. I thought it was the dog, no big deal, until sharp talons grabbed at my toes.

I jerked my foot away and looked down at the parrot that had apparently escaped his cage. He had launched a new attack on Bill's feet. Bill reached down to grab the bird and was attacked again. Blood was dripping from his hands onto the beige carpet. I suggested that Bill go to the kitchen sink to tend to his hands.

In the mean time, I coaxed the bird onto a stick and tried to carry him back to the cage. He quickly scurried up the stick and up my arm to my shoulder. He began to pull at my hair. Bill came running in response to my cries. He grabbed the bird and quickly stuffed it into the cage.

This was only round one. The bird escaped again and had to be wrestled back to the cage. The cage had to be mended, the blood had to be cleaned from the carpet and Bill's wounds had to be tended to. At the end of the ordeal we were bruised, bloody, panting and shaking. Our little retreat had turned into a house of horrors. We couldn't get out of there quick enough.

The moral of the story is this: You never know what life has in store for you. Enjoy the tranquility while you can. Tomorrow, or the next minute, may offer you chaos.

Day 324

This morning I was sitting in the living room, thinking about existentialist philosophy, daydreaming really while I rubbed lotion into my dry feet. I was thinking that I would like to do some reading on the subject.

Suddenly a book on the bottom of the bookshelf caught my eye. I could barely make out the title. Was it Introduction to Existentialism? I edged closer to the bookshelf and saw that in fact that was the title. It was an ancient paperback with yellowed pages. I had never seen this book among the hundreds we have on our shelves and yet when I wanted it, there it was.

Life is a mystery...

Day 323

I know it sounds strange but I just love sick days. When I was a kid I used to lay on the couch and watch Let's Make a Deal while my mom served me Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and 7-Up. To this day, I am convinced that this is the cure for the common cold.

When I worked a regular 9 to 5 job in an office I would sometimes take a sick day just because I was tired of work and wanted to pamper myself. I would stay in my pajamas until noon and convince someone else to go to the store for my soup and soda.

Working at home makes it harder to enjoy a sick day. After all I can stay in my pajamas all day everyday if I want to. I can usually slip in breaks to lay on the couch and watch TV. I can eat soup and sip soda anytime I want.

I still find that it is important to set aside a whole day every so often just to pamper myself, a day when I do nothing but take care of me, otherwise I might really get sick.

Day 322

Last night I had a dream. I hesitate to call it a dream because it was so vivid. It was a conversation. I never saw a person or being. Somewhere in that space between awake and asleep, I heard a soft, lyrical voice.

She said, "There are no limitations, Debbie. You can do anything you really want."

I snickered. "Well I can't be a ballerina."

"Sure you can," she said, "Just try it."

Suddenly I saw myself dancing and it was clear that I could be a ballerina. But I was not going to be convinced so easily.

"Well, sure I can dance, but that doesn't mean I'm any good. It's not like I'm going to perform in the New York City Ballet," I said

I was impressed by the sincerity of her reply: "Oh, I thought you wanted to dance. Why would you want to dance in the New York City Ballet? For the approval, the applause, the accolades? You can have those things too, if that's what you want."

This girl was good but I thought I finally had her, "Well, I can't jump off a bridge."

"Just because you are free doesn't mean there aren't consequences for your actions. Being free means that you choose the action and the consequence." With that she was gone.

I woke up thinking, "Who was that?"

I rolled out of bed, walked into the living room and opened the blinds. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow, the first of the year. For a moment I was wrapped in magic.

Day 321

Bill and I have been together for about 15 years. I think more than anything we wanted to avoid a static relationship, one where we act in prescribed ways. We were intent on our growth as a couple.

Although we haven't acquired a lot of material possessions or status symbols, I am proud of what we have accomplished together. I saw one of our accomplishments today. We got in an argument. It was nothing like the knock-down, drag-outs we used to have when we were first together.

We have learned to fight more effectively. Bill learned not to yell because that frightened me. I learned not to cry because that made Bill feel helpless. We both learned to ask for what we need and to try to attend to the needs of the other. Sometimes we even manage to turn disagreements into opportunities to connect. In my book that is success.

Day 320

I read a story once about Henri Poinare, a mathematician and physicist who developed many of the concepts of special relativity that Einstein would build on. As the story goes, Poinare was trying to solve a particularly perplexing math problem. Finally, he gave up and went on vacation. As he was boarding the bus the solution came to him.

I have felt perplexed by a dilemma in my own life for a few years now. I notice that I no longer elicit much praise from people around me. When I was younger, I was often praised by teachers and supervisors, not to mention my mother who served up heaping daily doses. I found myself wondering why the praise had all but disappeared. Were my actions no longer worthy of praise?

Yesterday I went for a walk. The answer came to me when I wasn't even conscious of the question. We generally praise those we perceive to be beneath us in terms of either experience, skill or knowledge. We seldom assess, evaluate or issue judgements, positive or negative, about those we perceive to be our equals.

Maybe the lack of praise is a reflection of my own growth. Perhaps other people are more inclined to see me now as their equal. Perhaps if I saw myself as equal to those around me I could let go of my need to please. I'm no Einstein, but that's what I think.

Day 319

On Saturday I met a friend at a coffee shop. Our intention was to write. We mostly talked but we did eventually pull out the notebooks and start to write.

She suggested a simple prompt. Something like, "I am..." The immediately started writing about my own sense of isolation, a recognition that, "I am alone." The more I wrote about being alone, the more I came to accept it. It started to feel like a gift rather than a burden, something to embrace, rather than run from.

Isn't it what the existentialists were trying to teach us? For me, writing is a better teacher.

Day 318

I have been working all day on materials for a new class that I start teaching on Tuesday. I feel completely overwhelmed and unsure of myself - just like every other time I have ever started a new class.

Earlier in the week, I had new students in another class who were bombarding me with "stupid" questions. Suddenly I feel a little more empathetic and a whole lot more humble.

Day 317

Yesterday I went to a meeting and presented a report that I invested a lot of time in. As I was working on the report, I imagined the appreciation with which it would be accepted by the group. I imagined their faces glowing and their words of praise falling on me like drops of holy water.

It didn't turn out quite like that. There was almost no reaction at all. I think I would have preferred condemnation, disagreement with my findings, a battle of intellect. At least then I would have known that they read it. At least I would know that they see me.

My need for praise it seems is really a need to be seen and heard and appreciated. Why do I continue to look to other people, in some cases near strangers, to give this to me? When will I stop looking outside for validation? When I will I finally accept that I am good enough regardless of what the world says?

Day 316

I went to the co-op yesterday and bought a popcorn ball. I abandoned all sense of decorum as I sat in the cafeteria eating it. There is, after all, no graceful way to eat a popcorn ball.

Sitting there with popcorn between my teeth and sticky lips and fingers, I was suddenly 8 years old again. I was transported to the front porch of the little white clapboard house I shared with my mom and brother. I could taste the sweetness of childhood.

A trip back in time for the price of a popcorn ball, now that's a bargain.

Day 315

I had this crazy, surreal customer service adventure this morning. It was like an epic video game; I had to master each level by slaying the dragon before I could move on.

First I had to find the customer service number. It was cleverly hidden at the end of an online maze. Then I had to get past the gatekeeper, an automated voice that offered a set of ambiguous options, none of which matched my need. I had to resort to deception before I was granted an audience with an actually, breathing customer service representative. Of course, she was not the representative who was assigned to deal with my particular problem. I was forced to listen to a fusion of static and jazz while on hold for 10 minutes. Finally my knight in shining armor came on the line. I told him what I needed and he quickly offered a solution. He assured me that he would grant my customer service wish. I love happy endings.

This story has a prologue, however. I opened my email a few minutes later and found a confirmation from the corporate overlords. It seems that my account was incorrectly modified. My knight was a troll. Was this an invitation to get back in the game? Not for me. I'm tired of slaying dragons. It feels more like tilting at windmills.

Day 314

I committed to a research project for an organization that is devoted to conflict resolution. I just finished the report this morning. There was about 30 seconds of relief and then a question. What now?

That's my nature, to always look ahead to the next thing. What should I do now? What's on the agenda? Lately, I have been trying to get rid of the agenda. Instead, I try to sit and wait. I ask the question: What is alive for me now?

This morning while I was meditating an idea popped into my head. I want to lead an effort to host a forum on bullying in my community. Right now it's just a baby bird of an idea, but it is teeming with life. I wonder if it will survive out in the world.

Day 313

As I count down the months since completing my degree I find that I am increasingly grateful for what I gained through the experience.

I focused on a single problem, namely my dissertation, for several years. This kind of focus is rare in today's world. It encourages discipline and has a grounding effect. Devoting so much time and energy to a single issue is humbling. It made me realize how little I know. I learned that knowledge is embedded in stories. As a result, I became a storyteller.

I thought that I was going to school to become an academic. Instead I became a writer. It was like finding myself where I least expected.

Day 312

A few years ago I was having a conversation with my mother in law. She was in her eighties at the time. I said, "We all make mistakes as parents." She said, "I didn't make any mistakes." She was sincere. She could not face this simple truth.

Lately I have been struggling with redefining my role as a parent. I started out so intent on protecting my child. He was this beautiful little spirit, my heart on a string. I wanted to shelter him from the ugliness of the world. I couldn't. I still can't.

Even worse, I did make mistakes, big mistakes. I have regrets. I am trying to learn to forgive myself. Perhaps forgiveness is nothing more than learning to sit with the sadness of regret. Bearing witness to the pain, maybe that's the whole point.

Day 311

I had lunch with some friends yesterday. We talked about a group that we had all participated in. I stated that there was one person in the group who dominated. My friends were quick to defend this person: Oh, no, I don't think he dominated. What I intended as a statement of observation they heard as a judgement.

I came home and looked up the word dominate in the thesaurus. It can mean monopolize, which is the way I used it. It can also mean subjugate and tyrannize, which is the way my friends heard it.

Bottom line, it's not what we say but what they hear that matters. Perceived judgements have a way of shutting down communication.

Day 310

Today in a conversation with a friend she said that she had to do certain household chores. I immediately responded "No, you don't." I was responding to the assumption that she had no choice in the matter. I believe we always have a choice.

Later Bill and I went to the Co-op and then stopped for a few items at Walgreens. I was in a hurry to get home. "I still have to blog and make dinner," I said. Oops, my mistake. I don't have to do anything. I could skip my blog and order a pizza.

In spite of being tired and hurried I decided to blog because it meets my need for integrity. I made a commitment to blog everyday and I want to keep that promise to myself. I don't know what I will choose to do tomorrow, but I like knowing that I have choices.

Day 309

I used the word "opportunity" in my post yesterday and it got me thinking. What would my life be like if I saw every circumstance as an opportunity? I can look back at past experiences and see what this might be like.

When Bill got sick a few months after we got married it felt overwhelming and tragic. It shook us to our core. I can remember standing in the waiting room while he had surgery. I was imagining his death. I imagined the stark, searing pain that would accompany such an event. I imagined myself moving through the pain to the other side. Through those sad daydreams, I caught a glimpse of my own resiliency. Bill's illness provided me with an opportunity.

Lately I have been worried about my adult child and her prospects for employment when she graduates from college in a few months. Perhaps she won't find a job. Perhaps that will be her opportunity for growth. Life is good when we remember that every problem comes bearing gifts.

Day 308

I was writing this morning. Dredging up painful memories. Trying to rise above the pain to describe the events. Striving to find the right words. In the midst of this struggle I heard a voice in my head: This is too hard. You should just quit for today.

It seems to me that this moment is an opportunity. When the gremlins try to lure me away from my writing by convincing me that I am no match for the challenge, I recognize that I am at a crossroads. I can either give up or recommit. Each time I recommit I honor a promise to myself and demonstrate my self-worth.

Day 307

For many years I did not have the tools I need to fully digest my experiences. I was adept at avoiding pain. I employed a variety of strategies to distance myself from my own feelings.

If I was hurt, I would blame others. If I was frustrated, I would stay busy. If I was angry, I would develop a battle plan. These strategies worked but they cut me off from life. They kept me from being fully alive.

Recently I have been writing about past experiences. Remembering the sights and smells and tastes and sounds and conjuring the feelings I tried so hard to avoid. One doesn't have to be gifted to write; the practice of writing is the gift. It allows us to go back and relive the past, feel the feelings and come out whole.

Day 306

I got up late this morning and made my to-do list. I immediately felt overwhelmed and began considering which things I might eliminate from the list. I made a little star next to those things I needed to accomplish by the end of the day. The remaining items were: write, exercise and meditate.

When I get busy these are the first things to go. Ironically, they are the activities that most help me manage stress and anxiety.

Tomorrow I plan to get up early and do these things first.

Day 305

I posted a brief message yesterday about being dumb and the connection between dumbness and writing. Later a prime example of my stupidity presented itself.

I got what amounted to a chain email. It promised that if I forwarded it on to my friends and family I would be rewarded with thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, of dollars. Now I knew it was a long shot but I hit forward anyway and stuck some email addresses in the box marked "To." I didn't put the addresses of everyone on my contact list. After all, I didn't want to be greedy.

Right away I got a response from a friend who declared the original email a "hoax." Later I got an email from another friend who reminded me of the mathematical improbability of the whole scheme.

I felt like an idiot. I tried to be compassionate toward myself. However, I am generally honest and I knew that my belief in the email, however weak and fleeting, was at best naive. So I said to myself, "You are silly and naive, just like everyone else."

Later it occurred to me that an occasional act of stupidity can be a useful thing. As a human being it reminds me to be compassionate toward others when they are stupid. As a writer it gives me a broader range of experience to draw from. I can write with sincerity about what it feels like to act stupidly. And so many of the best stories begin with acts of stupidity.