Breath by Breath

Exploring the art of happy

I recently read this translation of Anna Karenina, my first reading of this, Tolstoy's self-proclaimed first real novel.  I was enraptured by the characters and fell a little in love with Tolstoy, who was so deeply flawed and human and therefore able to capture the fullness of each of his characters.  He made it impossible not to identify with or at least understand the motives, thought processes, weaknesses, strengths and vulnerabilities of each person, seen in relief against a background of a particular time and place in history.  I can't say enough good things about it.  I was deeply moved by Levin's spiritual maturation and his discovery that he's happiest when he is engaged in the work that needs to be done (solving disputes among his farmers, tending to his wife and son, ensuring preparations for the harvest, etc.).  When he stops to contemplate the meaning and purpose of his life, he becomes paralyzed and overwhelmed by existential longings and questions.  Hmmm.  I can relate.  

The pursuit of "happiness" being a tantalizing subject for me right now, I turned my attention to The Geography of Bliss, which a friend gave me about 2 years ago (sorry!).  But, it's one of those books that requires a certain mindset.  In my case, Anna Karenina strongly rooted me in a grand, sweeping view of human nature as essentially changeless, but expressed in a nuanced way depending on the social, political and historical circumstances in which a human lives.  The Geography of Bliss is the travel journal of a western worrier and grump who attempts to gain insight about himself by sifting through academic research about happiness and traveling to some of the "happiest" and "unhappiest" places on the planet. His goal?  To get a first hand view of happiness in practice from both cultural and personal perspectives.  As I was reading, I documented the keys to happiness that he identifies.  Here's a smattering directly from my notes:

•  Trust (personal, social, political)
• Lack of envy and either upward or downward comparison
• Embracing trying (and failing)
• Relationships (individual initiative, coupled with social responsibility)
• Creativity (at all levels and abilities.  To paraphrase:  You need a lot of crap to grow something great.)
• A culture of selfish altruism
• Belief in...something
• Being useful, helpful
• A social safety net
• Flow...the pure joy of being
• Hardworking and loving others
• Cold and dark yield coziness and interdependence
• Gratitude
• Happiness is 100% relational
• Not thinking too much
• Tolerance
• Modest expectations but 100% effort (let go of attachment to results)
• If it isn't fun it's not worth doing
• Let go of what you can't control (and all you can control is yourself and your attitude)
• The quality of a society is more important than your place in that society
• Everything you do and every memory of you will likely be gone in 3-4 generations, so don't take it too seriously
• Connection to place/nature

I'm now turning my attention from the theoretical to the practical.  I've resisted reading this book for a while.  The genre of "be like me" middleclass self-disclosure memoirs is a bit tiresome.  I read two earlier this year (Poser and Project Happily Ever After).  I frankly did not like either person as they presented themselves and I found myself full of judgments (I'm suspecting a little projection here...as well as internalized classism).  Nevertheless  I ended up identifying more than I thought with their feelings and experiences.  So, here I am reading, The Happiness Project, another middle class memoir/instruction manual.  I thought it would be  interesting to see a practical journey toward happiness and this is what was out there.  I'm 5/6 of the way through her year-long "project."  Frankly, I can't wait to be done.  I'm not sure I've gained anything useful for my own experience, but I'm reserving judgment.  Actually, I can think of a couple useful things...

• Be a keeper of happy memories.  I come from a family that doesn't talk about the past at all- the good, the bad, or the otherwise.  I didn't realize how much it matters to me to keep memories on behalf of my current family.  I don't scrapbook.  I don't record things faithfully.  But, I take tons of pictures, I keep notes about significant events, I blog.   I will take this role more seriously in the future.
• Do what you do.  Essentially this is a way of saying, "Be yourself."  She says this another way, "You can choose what you do, but you can't choose what you like to do."  If you are looking for more happy in your day, embrace the things you already find yourself doing (in my case, yoga, reading, cooking, bringing people together, writing, making things), and mine your childhood for the things that made your heart sing (acting, singing, building spaces, making up stories and characters).
• Your body matters.  Exercise, food, play and rest yield energy, vitality, stress management, feeling sexy, better sleep, increased patience, elevated mood.....need I say more?
• One of the best ways to get happy is to make others happy.  Conversely, one of the best ways to make others happy is to be happy yourself.  Small, daily happiness is actually really difficult to sustain.  At least one person was sainted for her almost invisible efforts at small happiness (Saint Therese, "I take care to appear happy and especially to be so").

(I guess I am getting more out of it than I thought!)

I think I'll turn to the Dalai Lama's The Art of Happiness next.  I can't help but be inspired by a person who exudes such positive energy and broad perspective in the face of cruelty to his own people and throughout the planet.  I had the privilege of hearing him speak in person once and I will never forget it.  If I ever doubted the power of one person's energy to ripple through and influence the energy of multitudes, I didn't doubt it after being in his presence. 

Here's to actually being happy. 

A mother's journal ::: Fun for both of us (first bike ride)

I could write a sentimental and heartfelt post about how amazing it was to see my just-turned-five-year old ride a two-wheeler bicycle for the first time. How proud and joyful and brave and alive he is. How I will never forget him yelling, "This is awesome" as he speeds by on his hundreth lap around St. Clare's parking lot.

All of this is true and beautiful and unforgetable and one of the true joys of parenting.

But I'm going to write about what happened before this astonishing event.

It's 1 p.m., hotter than heck (about 100 degrees F), I'm in the garage trying to fill the bike tires with this ridiculous hand pump that never worked and is really terrible on totally flat tires. I have a pliers at the ready to raise the training wheels and lower the seat. I'm struggling and sweating and getting more frustrated by the moment as my hands are hurting from the effort of holding a pliers and a pump at the same time.

I stop and say, "This isn't fun for me. We have to figure out how to make this fun, so that we can both have a good time." I don't think I'm wrong in wanting it to be fun for me. If I don't have that expectation, I might get buried in duty and obligation or abandon the effort altogether.

So, we load the bike in the car to fill the tires at the gas station. The garage door doesn't shut. I get out, manually close it, go in through the laundry room, lock the door, go out through the front door, lock the door, get in the car, and back halfway out the driveway. I stop the car. I'm wondering why I'm doing any of this, and how to make it better? I am filled with rage and powerlessness.

I think of Durga. I know I need help to get through this seemingly trival situation.

I tell Silas I'm frustrated and I need to take a minute so that I can get myself back and we can go have fun. I ask for the time. He says, "OK." I cry for a few moments and I find myself asking silently for help. Help to be in this moment. Help to not fight and to not control. Help to not miss a thing. Help to enjoy being a mother.

We head to the gas station--where the air pump is disabled. We head to another one where I pay $1 to fill two bike tires. We go to the parking lot at St. Clare's Catholic Church, which I know will be empty at this time on a Tuesday in June. I raise the training wheels and lower the seat. The bike seems so ungainly I ask Silas if we can just try it without the training wheels. He consents. I remove them.

He gets on the bike, I give him a little push, and two hours and a few falls and tears later, he's figured out his balance, how to stop, how to coast, how to do a figure eight, how to "make his own wind."

I enjoyed every minute of it and wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Practice notes ::: invoking the great mother Durga Maa

 

I've written some before about my "collection" of "mothers"--women friends/mentors/bosses whom I admire and appreciate for their grace, wisdom, intelligence, timeless beauty, strength and courage in the face of life's harshest business, and ultimately, their zest for life.  These real women are of immeasurable value to me on my journey.  I also have many sisters, but today I'm talking about mothers.  

I completed my yoga teacher training course at the Sivananda Yoga Ashram in the Bahamas in early 2000.  Near the end of the training we were offered the opportunity to be initated into a mantra.  Four mantras were offered, explained and demonstrated and we were advised to select the one that appealed to us most based on both sound and meaning.  The choice of mantra was said to be extremely important because one would use that particular face of God as the object of worship for the rest of our lives.  [In the Hindu tradition, various qualities of God are represented by different dieties, but it's a very all for one and one for all kind of god group.] 

Mantra initation was not a requirement for certification, so I opted not to be initiated since I was uncomfortable with choosing and committing to worship a face of God outside of my own religious tradition.  I felt good about waiting...refusing.  I felt a greater sense of integrity about that than I ever would have about choosing even a universal-type mantra like Soham.

In early 2001, my husband and I went downhill skiing in Utah with another couple.  This was my first time on skis as an adult (and I'd only skiied once as a young person, with very mixed results).  B, the guy in the other couple, spent an entire day with me teaching me how to ski.  He was amazing and I learned a lot--I also got really scared, so much so I stayed in bed with a fever for a whole day. 

When I returned to the slopes the next day, I was completely sure I couldn't do it, but I knew I had to try because it was what I came for.  As we climbed on the chair lift for a very long ride up the mountain, one of the mantras that I'd  heard at my training course popped into my mind and I recited it internally the entire way up the lift, and then throughout the day.  This mantra was the Durga mantra (as we learned it, Om Sri Durga Namaha). 

This was my least favorite of the mantras to which we had been introduced, but I received the mantra as a gift of grace.  I went on to have two glorious, exhilarating and blissful days of skiing.  I loved it all-- the lifts, the wind, the gently falling snow, the speed, the scary moments getting stuck on a black diamond mogul run by mistake. 

Durga, in the Hindu tradition, is the universal mother goddess.  She is the one who is always there when one is weak, suffering, scared, in need of support and nuturance.  She is both invincible and compassionate.  Through her grace, she grants strength, courage and peace in times of utmost distress. 

I adopted the Durga mantra that day and have invoked her presence many times since.  Initially I would chant at times when I was in extreme anguish or strife (times of family upset, during labor with my son, feeling deep loneliness, etc.), and now it is a regular part of my meditation practice.  I find that I become Durga when I invoke her--I am more generous, kind, compassionate, brave and fierce (in a good way).   By calling her name, I join and access that particular divine energy (vibration) which is so valuable to me as a woman, mother, wife and human.

Putting a female face on God is extremely helpful to me.  It causes me no conflict now (as it once did).  This divine mother, Durga Maa, rejoices when I am strong and independent, and is always there when I need space to collapse a little, be held in divine arms, and admit I need help to carry on.  Learning to accept the grace that is available to me on a daily basis, and humble myself enough to ask for divine mothering, has been my greatest challenge.   

Practice notes ::: Soham (pronounced So-Hum)

 
 

Soham.  My yoga teacher introduced me to this mantra long before my teacher training course offered it as one of the four choices for mantra initiation.  One thing that sticks with me after all these years is that Soham (roughly translated, "That I am") can be particularly useful when sleeplessness occurs.  It's not exactly a substitute for sleep, Rather, it neutralizes some of the potential negative effects of poor/little sleep by inducing a state of deep mental and physical rest.  Since I am not (yet) a great sleeper, I've had a number of opportunities to practice this mantra.

Rolf Slovik, writing about sleepiness and mediation said of the Soham mantra:  "As you recite the sounds so and hum in your mind," he said, "imagine that they are ever so lightly blowing away the ashes of tamas [lethargy, dullness, inertia] and little by little uncovering this Spirit in you. As you continue, be patient with the urge to sleep and allow time for it to pass. Let the so-hum mantra fill you, giving your body and mind a thorough rest."

This mantra is often recommended for faciliating sleep, but even if it doesn't help you fall asleep, it can foster a calm and restful state of mind which can greatly improve the quality of experience the morning/day after a sleepless night.

I spent the afternoon at the beach yesterday, body surfing in really fine waves with my almost 10-year old friend, McKenzie, and my son.  The wind was so wild that the kite surfers were actually lifted 15 to 20 feet above the surface of the water at times and the seagulls hovered at the shoreline, unable to progress seaward.  Exhilarated and exhausted, our entire household (three adults, three kids this weekend) were in bed by 10:00.

Sad to say that sleep eluded me and I gave up the effort around 4:30 am.  I recited soham for about 40 minutes while resting in savasana and then got out of  bed, did some chores and sat out in the warm breeze. 

All day I've been calm and quiet in mind and body.  My expectations for myself and those around me are modest at most, and the day is washing over me like a warm rain.  I'm not dettached, exactly, but I'm definitely not invested in things that aren't my business.  I'm doing things one at a time in a slow and deliberate manner.   That includes building lego trucks, playing Harvest Time, a trip to the grocery story, and a couple of hours of silliness and laughter at the neighborhood pool.

That I am.  This is enough.

Practice Notes ::: The body remembers

 

Back in graduate school and in my early professional days as a counselor, I spent a lot of time learning about psychological and physical trauma and its impact on body, mind and spirit. One important truth about how we experience trauma is that the body remembers it even when the mind is overwhelmed and blocks it out. This explains hypersensitivity to facial cues, hypervigilence, triggering of flashbacks by odd sensory stimuli, a host of physical disorders, hyperarousal of the sympathetic nervous system (reactivity), etc.

But I discovered a parallel truth today as I returned to my yoga mat after a few days away. The body also remembers habits of breathing, body position, rest, quietness of mind, peace. I am amazed at how easily and effortlessly (seemingly anyway) I slide back into even the most awkward of postures, as if my hips only needed fire log pose to say, "Ah, yes, I remember how to let that go." A knot in my neck/shoulder melted in bow and arrow--releasing as if remembering just where things belonged.

A funny thing happened at the end of my practice. About a year ago I made a mala for myself, intending to add japa meditation to my practice. I never actually did it until today. As I touched the 108th bead and recited my mantra, the stringing material simply broke, sending a cascade of beads in all directions onto our bamboo floors.

Something simple like this, an unplanned, unwanted event, often triggers (let's put this nicely) a reactive response in me consisting of a loud gutteral utterance at minimum to tears of frustration and global generalizations about my culpability and self-worth (on a bad day). [Witness yesterday's spillage of a bowl of oil, eggs and water as I began to bake a birthday cake.]

Yet, after an hour's asana practice, followed by loving kindness meditation and japa meditation, my reaction? Quiet amusement. Irony. Not a shred of physical or emotional arousal, and no dramatic projections about the significance of the event. It was funny. I cleaned it up, put the beads in a zip loc to fix later, and rolled up my mat.

Ah....practice.

 

Wake up!

Tuesday night I enjoyed the best night's sleep I've had in a couple of weeks.  I got up to make my coffee and enjoy a few minutes of quiet reading.  Through a series of missteps, I ended up with a burned hand and wet coffee and grounds everywhere in my kitchen. I'm not kidding. Five hours later I am still finding splatter up to 7 feet away from ground zero.  I won't tell you how long it took me to clean up the stove and oven area.  Not exactly how I wanted to start my day. 

On top of it, when my poor husband came to find out what happened and began cleaning up, I took one of his statements as criticism and ejected him from the room.  (I later apologized and acknowledged that he intented to help and I rejected him--highlighting my tendency/habit/pattern to not accept help.) 

I am not proud to admit that I am a catastrophizer and an over-generalizer.  This is typified by my reaction to this experience.  All morning I've been asking myself, "What does this mean?  What is the universe trying to tell me? How do I say 'thank you' for this experience?"  My husband, by contrast, said, "The universe is telling you nothing.  Just be more careful."  Careful?  Mindful?  Aware?  Awake?

So, after a great cleansing cry about the sorry state of my life, several applications of aloe vera gel  and a lot of quiet time in the house doing laundry, cleaning up, changing sheets, etc., I realize there is a message from the universe in all this.  The message is whatever I glean from it.  And, perhaps there are several messages.

So, here some simple messages:  "Do your yoga FIRST"?   "Maybe you should  consider nixing  coffee again"?  "Remember to take your hormone-balancing supplements."

Complex messages:  "This is the best life you've figured out to date.  It's not bad.  It's better in so many ways to what I ever could envision for myself.  And, it is so much less than I wanted/hoped for.  Now what?"  If I don't like something or want something to change, do something different.

I am so priveliged in almost every way.  When I think of the devastation via natural and man-made disasters, I must be humbled.  The worst calamities known to humankind -- starvation, disease, infant mortality, abuse, war, crime, isolation, lack of housing, etc., etc. -- are not part of my life or most people around me.   These moments of self-pity and the quest for self-actualization stimulating messages from the universe are luxuries that only those who aren't worried about daily safety and survival can pursue.   

I am humbled in the face of it all.  Yes there was a message from the universe for me.  Remember in each and every moment to treat all beings with kindness and tenderness for they are me, they are you, they are God.   Vulnerable, beautiful, strong, powerful, courageous, and in need of sacred acknowledgement and connection.

The inflexible and stubborn yogi ::: it couldn't be me?

 
Anyone every take a look at Louise Hay's book You Can Heal Your Life?  I've had it for 20-some years and refer to it occasionally when I face puzzling and frustrating physical symptoms. I've had good experiences with affirmations at different times of my life, but I sometimes slip into thinking they are lame (probably a defense against my own lack of discipline in applying anything that's good for me!).

Anyhoo.  I returned from our weekend visit to Scott's hometown and 30th high school reunion, with a very painful pinched nerve/muscle spasm in my neck, which I add to the sore knee that came upon me about a week ago.  Do I rush to the doctor?  Absolutely not.  I know myself well enough to know that these symptoms are more about what is going on in my life than some crisis requiring immediate medical attention.

Louise Hay says these issues both reflect "stubbornness", "inflexibility", "fear/safety", "ego and pride."  Hmm.  

I can't remember what triggered the knee thing (it might have been coincident with signing the contract on our new house).  But, I do know that the neck problem emerged after I overdid some deep twisting postures in a yoga class I attended when we stopped over at some relatives' on the way back from Ponca City. 

My personal yoga practice has been so good lately and I never hurt myself practicing on my own.  I am so focused on myself and my experience that I adjust immediately if something doesn't feel right on a particular day.  I also take a brief rest between sets of postures (ala Bikram) and never feel sore, even though I am obviously building strength and flexibility. 

What happened in the class I attended is one of the key reasons why I want to practice regularly on my own.  My attention get's divided.  I get focused on performing, doing things "right," fulfilling my idea of what the teacher is asking for, and, sadly, comparing myself to others.  Ego...pride... = inflexibility?

I suffer from divided focus every day of my life as the mom of a 4-year old.  I need a sacred time that is meditative and offers a one-pointed focus.  The moving meditation that is yoga, along with my brief prayers and sitting meditation provide that for me.

So, what is going on?  The questions I'm living with now:

Is it possible that I am inflexible and stubborn?  If so, how is that manifesting now.  In what areas do I need more flexibility?  How could I soften my positions and open to the myriad ways of doing things?  What is the relationship between stubborness and insecurity?  Am I flexible with others, but inflexible with myself?  Am I judgmental of others, while disappointing myself when I don't act with integrity?  Is my own pride and ego getting in the way of my relationship with myself and others?  And, that whole safety thing....this comes up a lot. 

 So, as I struggle with learning a new knitting technique, I'll be contemplating how I can become more resilient, capable of responding accurately to each situation and easily bouncing back into shape following new experiences.  Yogi as memory-foam mattress?  Is that the image I'm looking for?  Nah.  More like the gorgeous sycamore trees I observed yesterday in my son's school play yard.  Tall, stable, deeply rooted, yet moving easily with each breeze, settling back to stillness, readjusting to an updraft, losing a leaf now and then, but always growing and reaching for the sky and stars.

 

Sacred duty ::: dharma

Call it an hiatus or a sabbatical.  I'm definitely in a time of reflection and renewal. Perhaps it has something to do with Silas turning four and his growing independence. Perhaps it's my own internal clock ticking and telling me that time is short.  I want to use my days well.  In any case I'm in the middle of it.

I attended a short permaculture discussion once where the facilitator made a distinction between what she called a sustainable culture and a regenerative culture.  I'm currently reaching for a regenerative life.  I don't want to merely settle for something sustainable.  While exploring what this means to me, I've encountered deep pockets of hopelessness about the world--a feeling that the tidal wave of destruction and degeneration has crested and on its inexorable path toward the shore where it will wipe out humanity and cause a world of pain.  Happy thoughts for the morning, no?

[This is leading somewhere good, I promise.]

So, allowing for the possibility that this is true...that a critical mass of insanity has actually been achieved, how do I live my days?  In the face of certain failure, is there still meaning in what I do?  What is my sacred duty?  My dharma?

The answer is probably obvious to many of you, but I have struggled with meaning and purpose every day of my life.  For better or worse, the disciplines and small joys of daily living and feelings of love and connection are often elusive, and somehow seem insufficient no matter how momentarily satisfying.

My current answer to these questions is to fully align with the forces that act in the world as if it's not too late.  To, use my unique talents and gifts to bring light and hope and connection where I can.  To assume that my efforts, small and large, are significant and will contribute to the collective karma of the planet.  To acknowledge that the seemingly disparate paths I've traveled actually form a web of knowledge and skills that I can employ with integrity and joy to a greater good. 

I'm reminded of the time my apartment was broken into and all my small electronics were stolen.  My response puzzled some of my friends. I actually felt more secure in the world because it called my attention to the rarity of this type of event in the grand scheme.  Most of the time (nearly all the time, in fact) people respect each other and their property.  We tend to obey stop signs and stop lights. We get along.

Therefore, I have to allow for the possibility that the negative forces I see so boldly operating in the world may be quite small in comparison with those that are generally positive.  This gives me hope and an impetus to journey on.  And, even if all is lost, when it's totaled up at the end I want to count myself among those that tried.

So, I may be terminating this blog for a time as I embark on a new venture.  We'll see how it goes.

Thankful Friday ::: the labyrinth

I'm writing this from my new notebook computer.  We spent some time over Mother's Day weekend investigating and prioritizing for this new purchase, and I'm actually really pleased with the results.  This post comes to you from a cherry red ThinkPad, Lenovo x100e.  It's souped up a little, which makes it roughly equivalent to our 4-year old home PC, but it's small enough to carry with me wherever I want to go and the keyboard is the best I found anywhere.  I'm pretty psyched.  A tiny bit of my gratitude today has to go to the IRS for the extra tax return we got this year.  A larger measure to my computer saavy and research lovin' and frugal husband for finding the best deal once we'd made the choice. 

My second point of gratitude this week is for a lovely experience walking a labyrinth.  The two introductory speakers provided an inspiring and insightful perspective on the labyrinth as a spiritual tool, and then left each person to experience it for her self.  The framework I used was to "release, receive, and return" as I entered, centered and departed the labyrinth.  I experienced a profound sense of entering a sacred space as I crossed the "threshold" of the labyrinth, and am still processing my journey. 

I'm grateful for the small voice inside which reminded me:

• Each step reveals the path.  I don't have to know where I'm going.
• Focus on the journey, not the destination.
• I will meet people on the path.  We may or may not connect.  We pass.  Their experience of the path is very different from mine.
• It's time to rest and heal.
• I can be on the river or on the shore,  but not both at the same time.
• This time in my life is about listening, learning, loving and letting go.

Thankful Friday ::: enough is enough

I've always had a fundamental question about how to live well now AND prepare, plan and work for a desired future.

Whenever I focus on the now (or what seems like the now), I notice, enjoy, and appreciate more about my life, but I also feel a little out of control and like I'm always about to step off the edge of a cliff.  I lose sight of the path in front of me, often feeling stuck and sometimes even a little trapped. 

When I focus on the future, the forward progress and focus offers a definite satisfaction, but the lists and tasks often get the better of me and I somehow rob myself of the joy of living today. 

Is there a solution to this dilemma?  Or, is it the human condition to oscillate between these two states of being?  If it's an oscillation, how do you think about time and space each day for both experiences?  Is there a way to keep firmly in this moment WHILE preparing for the next? 

I am sure the solution is in the Practice--meditation, yoga, prayer, mindfulness, gratitude--whichever one chooses. So my question really becomes one of discipline.  Discipline and trust.  Doing the practice. Faithfully.  Daily.  For its own sake. Trusting that what is is what should be and what becomes is what is needed next.  Then, do my best in this day to be present and do what is truly most important--for now and the future.

Today's "gratefulness":  Enough

:::  Enough time
:::  Enough space
:::  Enough laughter
:::  Enough good food
:::  Enough signs of intelligent life in the universe
:::  Enough love (...self, family, friends, the planet, life itself)