Ready or Not.

Ready or not, here it is. A new year, a new cycle, a refresher course in day-to-day life. It’s been my annual practice to reject the making of a new  year’s resolution and instead embrace the choosing (or, as I maintain, being chosen by) a word that embodies what I need, where I need to be, and in what direction I must head towards.  A mini mission statement of sorts.  I learned it as ‘choosing an intention, or choosing your own personal theme to guide your year.”

Over the last few years with this as my practice, I have seen over and over that this is the right choice for me. I am solid in my belief that new year’s resolutions are anything but resolute, they allow too much opportunity for failure. They are too specific. Too rigid. For me.

Choosing a word, or letting the word emerge has been transformational for me in the last few years.  I started with the word Nudge, it was perfect and over the course of that year I let the subtle nature of life’s little whispers be my guide and in the end, beautiful change occurred.

“I desired to move in a new direction and knew that I needed, well, a few nudges to get there. I wanted to be pushed. But gently.”

From there, Nudge made a new friend and we added Give.  The year of Give was full of surprises, the biggest being that in my need to make room for this, I found that in the end I received so much – and learned about the very act of receiving. It is an act. And one that requires a conscious decision most of the time and not always easy or comfortable.

“As I glance back over my shoulder at this last year; I realize something important was quietly occurring all along.  I see that in giving we also receive, and that I had some big lessons to learn about this.”

From there, Nudge and Give welcomed Intentional and together we formed a small gang.  It was what I needed, truly on levels I really could not have ever anticipated.

I realize as 2016 begins that in all technicalities, I skipped a year. Trust me when I say that was not Intentional. Or was it?  I had no word chosen for 2015 and there were no knocks at my door, so to speak.  When I thought about it, it became clear that Intentional was not done with me yet. Not ready to open the door to someone new.  It chose me again, so quietly and deftly. So we kept at it and in the mind’s rear view mirror where objects are never as close as they appear, I see how being intentional has yielded unexpected, but necessary, important and right, results. So for the combined course of Intentional 1.0 and then 2.0…

I look back and see an intentional spirit around co-parenting so my son is secure, even when it’s most uncomfortable for me.

I see intentional actions with my finances and getting things in order. The question marks are slowly being replaced with dollar signs.

I was super intentional in the midst of of a contentious process called mediation. I may have less enamel on my teeth from gritting them, but I chose intentionality at each turn to save my own soul. At least my sense of self. At the end of the day, we may no longer have to live with that person, but we will always have to live with ourselves. I wanted that to keep going well!

I see a list a mile long of tedious tasks that need to be tackled. And they were. Now if I can just muster the fortitude to finally paint the bathroom?

I set my mind to making peace with and letting go of choices made in ‘yesteryears’, so that the noise of then would not drown out what I need to be paying attention to – and enjoying – in these days.

I see the intention of planning a trip to DC + DE + VA  for my son and I, something I’ve wanted to do with him for a few years. I made it happen for us and it was monumentally successful and fun. And memorable.

I got intentional at work and it was noticed.  Changes started happening. Opportunities appeared. New ideas began to spring up and I was intentional about what I created from those ideas. And on the opposing side, when the unpleasant occurred, I chose to be intentional with my rebuttals, and choosing which battles to fight. Sometimes, being intentional means being quiet: watch, look and listen. I did a lot of that too.

I became intentional on where I stand, or sit, or kneel – or rather, where I clearly don’t and cannot – on faith and religion.

I was intentional about the holidays and this may seem trivial in light of all else, but last year I was Scrooge, Bah Humbug and the Ghost of Christmas past all rolled into one. I was miserable because I didn’t plan well. I just wanted it over.  I identified where the breakdown(s) occurred that led to such an unnecessarily disappointing and exhausting time, and from that I chose with purpose and made changes where things had failed – and it worked. Magically. And, this year?  I was legitimately bummed when it was all over.

So, with just those highlights, I see that Intentional knew what she was doing.  What a smarty-pants!  As 2015 rounded near the bend and 2016 was within view, I started to feel a shift. I wasn’t sure yet what or what it meant exactly.

—

At work, we have to change our log-in pass-phrase every so many months. And it has to be a certain number of characters at a minimum.  Like a lot. Along with my word for the year, I also choose a pass-phrase that has meaning to me. I’d read of a guy who changed his life with his pass-phrases and got over a broken heart, quit smoking (e.g. ‘Quit@smoking4ever’) and saved for a dream trip – each one month at a time, because he’d chosen pass-phrases that he had to type Every.Single.Day and as the days passed these desired outcomes became part of his consciousness.  It changed his life in significant ways over each month based on what he chose to focus on. What a cool idea I thought, so I’d started doing similar a few years ago.  But, as the reminders kept hitting my inbox recently, I was stumped at what to choose.

—

Until.

Until one day it appeared. There it was. It just stood up and said, hi!

I obviously am not going to tell you my pass-phrase. That would just be silly. And intentionally stupid. Intentional would not be happy with me! But I really want to because I really like it!

But I will tell you that in the midst of my pass-phrase also appeared my word for 2016.  I love the collaborative spirit working here!

It chose me. Again. It always does.

Are you ready?

I’ve actually already told you.

The word is ready.

The gang’s all here: Nudge, Give, Intentional 1.0 and 2.0, and now we’re saying howdy to Ready.

The way I see it, when we allow the influence of what the word is, what it means (to us) and why it showed up in the first place, we allow ourselves to move, to bend, to grow, to change. You become all of that, and because it happens incrementally, slowly (and almost) effortlessly, you just are.

And, that becomes you. It shows. It looks good on you.

Here we go, ready or not!

Oh, and I can’t stop myself. If you choose a word, I’d love to know what you choose or what chose  you!

Happy New Year!
Happy 2016!
Happy Words!

Pieces | My Symphony

 

To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury
and refinement rather than fashion;
to be worthy, not respectable,
and wealthy, not rich;
to listen to stars and birds,
babes and sages with open heart;
to study hard;
to think quietly,
act frankly,
talk gently,
await occasions, hurry never;
in a word, to let the spiritual,
unbidden and unconscious,
grow up through the common.
-this is my symphony.

-William Hendry Channing

 

 

 

“As we become curators of our own contentment on the Simple Abundance path… we learn to savor the small with a grateful heart.” Sarah Ban Breathnach

Note to Self | Find a New Forest

How Will I Be Changed?

This time last year, to the day, I wrote about how I had begun engaging in the process of choosing a word instead of resolutions to guide my year. I was resolute about giving up the habit of making new year’s resolutions; and how they had little sticking power in my experience. For the year of 2012, I had chosen the word ‘nudge’ and at the end of that year, I realized, with stunning clarity, how big changes and new understandings had their genesis in a word of such gentleness. To be nudged is not dramatic or even perceptible in some cases, but over time, a series of nudges allows for great change. I let myself be pushed.

As 2012 rolled over into 2013, I began my reflection on what word to choose. I invited ‘Nudge‘ to come along for the ride, with me, into the year 2013 and asked her to help me with my new word of ‘Give‘ which again, I must say, chose me.  It was a word that admittedly, kinda made me a little nervous! I tried to say no and convince myself that it was a different word that just hadn’t appeared yet.

I was wrong about that; ‘give’ just wouldn’t give up. It wouldn’t go away. I know, only now, that I really needed the push in that direction.

It turned out that it was the right word after-all.  And for reasons I couldn’t have fathomed. I assumed that the idea was for me to be the one to do all this ‘giving’ and I was ambitious enough to initiate the task of composing a long list of ways that I could give during the year. I will be honest, though, and tell you that deep down, I was squirmy and uncomfortable with this task and as such, never really was completely successful in accomplishing that mission. I was just too embarrassed to tell you.

Instead, I found that in quiet, ordinary, every day life, I would hear the word whispered to me in simple moments:  give that car the room to merge ahead, wave them on nicely; give that person your full attention – remain quiet and let them talk; spend a few moments in conversation with the building custodian when leaving work, give that compliment to the woman in line ahead of you with the gorgeous hair; tell the person who helped you that they made an impact; express gratitude to the ones who are there for you all the time; give a moment a chance to happen instead of taking over.

As I glance back over my shoulder at this last year; I realize something important was quietly occurring all along.  I see that in giving we also receive, and that I had some big lessons to learn about this. I was afraid of the word ‘give’ but not for the reasons I thought.  It’s not always easy to receive.  To allow in love and support from unexpected sources, when you are expecting judgement and shame? Being able to receive the giving of that is large.

Were there moments when I did not give, or give in?  Of course.  It would be disingenuous to pretend otherwise. The push-pull and tug of war of me-vs.-them was ever-present in so many moments.  But I can also see, now, that the times I remembered to give, are ironically when I also received the most in return. Peace, Gratitude. Understanding. Laughter. Knowing.

It felt different. I wish I had written down every time I commented how the Universe just seemed to have my back, when I was most vulnerable and most uncertain about what was coming next. I’d have shoe boxes full of notes to myself.

I didn’t complete a check list of ‘giving moment’s that I thought I was supposed to do, and yet, I think I am able to accept that. It feels far more authentic to weave the idea of giving and receiving into quiet, simple and gentle moments. At first, my logical brain needed it to be a project: linear and attainable. My spirit needed it to be fluid and meaningful, never finished but instead, simply a way of being. Sometimes it happened in the hardest and most painful moments. Sometimes it was just something so simple. When friends I had not met in person would text, when I somehow needed it the most, and say, “you got this, girl!”, or listen fully to every detail of an unraveling of one life and the beginning of a new one. Or when my son showed me his resilient and adaptive soul, over and over again. Or when honest conversations brought me closer together with those I already held close to my heart. Or when giving myself over to the snail’s pace of a 93 yr old mind with dementia and I receive more stories, more layers about what I know as family. Or when giving in to a moment and a new friendship is formed before my very eyes.  

Yes, it seems fair to say that the word “give’ chose me for reasons I could never have anticipated and I feel changed because of it.  The year had not yet concluded when I was presented with the loudest whisper of all, when something inside me said ‘we have to help her‘ and we did. Again, I was on the receiving end and was graced by my beautiful friends and their unbelievable generosity and compassion, but more importantly, by their faith in me and willingness to take my lead. But even more so, I received the gift of making a difference in not one but two lives. A mama and her still-on-the-way baby boy. I received the gift of being richly rewarded and affirmed for taking a risk.

Nudge and Give were working in tandem and what an awesome team they make.

A new year has begun and it’s time to choose a new word, or perhaps be open to what chooses me.  Like when naming a child or a pet, it takes time to see if the word and the year are a good fit. This one just won’t leave me alone; it even started showing up early.

For 2014, I bring along Nudge and Give, they have been so good to me and by now we are such close companions. We travel well together and this year we add to our growing word family:

done on purpose. deliberate. intended. conscious. 

In the process of reflecting and writing this, I came across this sentence:   You have to want it more than you are afraid of it not happening.
Bam.  There it is.

And yes, just like other years, it scares the shit out of me.

What will this require of me? What path(s) will this lead me down? What changes will I need to make? What sacrifices? How will I be challenged?

How will I be changed?

There is only one way to find out. Let’s go.

Happy New Year and what is your word? I would love to know.

It Takes Just a Nudge to Budge

A few years ago, I resolved to no longer make new year’s resolutions. I had come to see both their transience and their permanence: a lofty idea with weak velcro and little sticking power and yet a  lasting sense of failure.  I even tried tricking myself once – in the way some of us set our clocks back an “x” number of minutes thinking that it may get us to arrive on time, but really all we do is calculate those minutes into our arrival time, and we still end up being late,  or at least not early. I tried starting my resolutions in October that year, somehow thinking that I would be more successful when no one was looking, or expecting anything, and then by January, I’d be well on my way to a new habit.  It’s o.k., you can laugh.

I have seen a few different approaches to the notion of inviting positive change into our lives  and you may remember that I am a firm believer in the 21 days rule; do something {or stop something, say…eating Cheez-Its?} for 21 days and you’ve got yourself a brand new habit.  So, a little over a year ago, I found myself needing to bring more positive balance into my life.  Things were not necessarily bad, just kind of blah, stale, stuck and I found myself in a spot where I had let some ill feelings and resentments accumulate and I wanted to shake things up a bit and reset my focus.

That was also about the time I started this blog, and I got busy reading other blogs to  – a) learn from;  b)  torture myself;  c) be inspired by or d) all of the above – and came across what would quickly become one of my favorites, Create as Folk, where Laura shared that she had adopted the practice of simply choosing one word – or phrase –  to guide her year. A mini mission statement of sorts.  She explains it as ‘choosing an intention, or choosing your own personal theme to guide your year.”  I interpreted this to mean, for me, that the word had to have meaning that I wanted to embrace, provide direction in a way in which I wanted to go,  and challenge me. Her approach had a calming effect on me; it gave me a sense of direction without the impending fear of failure; it wasn’t a commitment to anything specific, but instead suggested a gentle guiding force willingly chosen with no certain expectations for outcome.  It would serve as a framework of sorts, and I saw it as  a way to invite something good into my life that I wanted, even though I couldn’t see its form.  I viewed her video  and clicked out; I was fascinated and intimidated – I craved the direction and challenge but feared the failure. I mulled it over and over in my mind, letting myself percolate as I do.

It finally came to me one day. Quietly. Gently. Calmly. Just like I needed. The word is even somewhat gentle and quiet.

I chose the word nudge.

I sensed  a stirring, an urging towards something new.

I felt some trepidation about stepping out of my comfort zone, but I knew I wasn’t totally comfortable where I was.

I desired to move in a new direction and knew that I needed, well, a few nudges to get there.

I wanted to be pushed. But gently.

I chose the word nudge.

Or, did it choose me?   The year began with this notion of being nudged tucked securely in my pocket, and I found that I was seeing things differently. When choices presented themselves to me, I realized they had new layers, new options; was this an opportunity to be nudged, pushed a little bit further? Nudged to take a risk, no matter how small? Nudged to try doing things a little differently? Nudged to let some things go?

With each opportunity came that same fascination and intimidation…As I started to let myself be nudged in new directions, I began to realize a few things. It wasn’t as hard as I imagined, it got easier with each experience, and even when it didn’t work; knowing I had allowed myself to be nudged far outweighed the outcome.

I had started this blog, but was moving forward without certainty, and often considered hanging up my keyboard. The ambiguity and uncertainty were uncomfortable to say the least. So, finally, I took that discomfort as a nudge to look at why and wrote a post that put it out there, fears and warts and all.  That was a turning point; I learned that when we are real, others listen and I learned that some of the best blogging takes place in the comments.   That propelled me to keep going; and I found that as I did, this blog became a part of me, an extension of the person I am, and I found that the challenge to find something to say helped cultivate my thoughts and an increased awareness, understanding and appreciation of things happening in and around my own life.  And more importantly,  I found some phenomenal  friendships with the most amazing people from all around the world.

These nudges gave me the freedom to recognize and accept more nudges, with fascination beginning to out-pace the intimidation. I started to see that I didn’t hesitate as long when making choices, I felt more peaceful than I had in a long time, and in turn, the conversations with others became richer; I felt more confident in my own day-to-day life; opened myself to new projects and people who would have intimidated me the year before, but now they fascinated me;  the old resentments that I had started out with had faded and been replaced by creativity, appreciation, peace and craving more positives. I found that I could open the vault and work my way towards important life changes.

I took  my blog on a virtual cross-country road trip; reaching out and connecting with some of the coolest hosts ever who turned into friends, and with each post I began to wonder how I could have walked away; and glad I didn’t.  Each time it happened I shook my head in disbelief but I was secretly thrilled to be part of the generous and gracious tradition of sharing blog awards.  I always took too long to receive the gift; not out of lack of gratitude but always with a Sally Field-ish disbelief.  The year ended with a gift, icing on such a delicious cake at this point, when my friend Mimi from Waiting for the Karma Truck shared the Blog of 2012 Award with me.  Best.Christmas.Gift.Ever.  Frankly, one of the year’s best nudges too. Mimi, thank you [and forgive me for not following the rules!?]

I can look back now and realize that a year has come and gone, and with it, a year of nudging and blogging, and as they say, ask myself where did the time go? I appreciate the challenge and benefits of both over the last 12 months, often but not always intertwined. I wasn’t sure where to start, but did, and had no idea where I was headed [and still not entirely sure, but I do know that I like being here] and kept going.  I looked back and my second post was titled: Just Start Somewhere. Who knew that was actually for me? It was a simple tip for getting organized and went on to say:

Choose the easiest place to start…you don’t always have to start at the beginning. If that first step seems like it will be the hardest [and keeps you from starting at all!], then start with another part of the project instead. Often, once you get started…it’s hard to stop! Get going and have fun!”

Looking back, that makes all the sense in the world, whether you need to  –  a) purge a closet; b) improve a relationship, c) start a blog, d) invite positive change into our lives; or e) all of the above  – It’s true, just start somewhere. Let yourself be nudged.

I have chosen my focus word, my intention for 2013, but I am going to be quiet about it  for a little longer; it’s a more outwardly focused, active word, requiring a little bit more of me. Again, I am both intimidated and fascinated. This word and I, well, we still need a little time to get acquainted, see how we work together.  Worried about Nudge? Don’t be, she  is coming with me into 2013 also;  she has served me so well, and I am quite certain that I still need more nudging…

What do you think? Does choosing a focus word make sense to you? Have you ever chosen one and followed it all year; what word might you choose to help guide you through 2013?

With intention for 2013…

Strawberry Shortcake

the little things that go wrong, are what connect us…make us real to each other.

I am remembering a day, in my late teens:  I had invited some friends over and had told them I would make strawberry shortcake, to just come on over to the house, and hang out.  It didn’t seem that difficult, I had seen my mom do it and the recipe looked so easy.  I tossed the fresh strawberries with some sugar and got busy mixing and baking the shortcake.  I put it all together and the moment came to assemble dessert; I handed out dishes and forks, anticipating nothing but delight, mmmm’s, lipsmacking.

Instead, what I heard were strange sounds, coughs, throats clearing, and eventually the giggles.

It, the shortcake, was awful! I had taken a bite by this time and sure enough, it was horrible and resembled something more akin to sawdust cakes than anything.

I was embarrassed, but these people, my friends were so close, so safe, that it was o.k. to be the epicenter of their laughter and teasing.  I figured out what I had done wrong, but much too late; so instead we ditched the cake and dove into the strawberries and whip cream and immersed ourselves in conversation.  And, yes they kept laughing at me.

The best part of the shortcake however, is that it lives on [and given its consistency, it probably could], to this day; nearly 30 years later. I don’t see those friends often enough, we of course all live in a variety of places – physically, mentally, stages of life, etc.  But it takes only the mere mention of the strawberry shortcake in an email, phone conversation,  or in the event we get to visit in person, a conversation, that sends us directly to nothing less than a fit of giggles. And a knowing.

If the shortcake had turned out perfectly, we would have never noticed, we would have mmm-ed and hmmm-ed, and smiled and licked our forks and plates and enjoyed the moment. But it would have been just that, only a moment, eclipsed by something else that might have seemed funny, but would likely – and quickly – fade in passing. Instead, because of my mistake, ineptitude, forgetfulness, or whatever, we got instead a memory that stays with us, and in a way, connects us always, with just one word.

With one of my friends I have known since childhood, all I have to do is, in a mocking tone, say ‘shut up I can’t see‘ in a text, email, or message and we are goners, laughing until we pee or cry, or both.  It was  a day of misdirection and tardy arrivals, and while being silly in the backseat, laughing loudly at my friend’s inability to navigate the directions, my friend yelled at me, and the others, to shut up so he could see where he was going. The backseat drivers thought it was the dumbest thing we had heard, and it set us on a jag of that crazy, uncontrollable, practically crying, belly-aching, gasping laughter. You know the kind, it swells up, consumes you, recedes and then returns in its full force, over and over again.

If he had known his way, been more calm, or if we had been a little more, ahem, mature, we would not have that moment to cherish as part of our story, to have to be able to return to periodically, and reach out to hold a moment of our youth, our history, something that makes us, well, an us. It places us somewhere.

When my son was about to turn three, he fell down on his face a few days before his birthday and bumped himself up pretty good; resulting in a big giant fat lip, which of course ballooned just in time for his birthday, when the camera comes out in full force. My husband was irritated by the poor timing, lamenting how this would look,  and I remember just putting a hand on his arm and saying, ‘but these are the moments we remember. this will be ‘the year of the fat lip’ .”

If things were perfect, I would not have the photos I love from that day, my little boy with the big lip.  That is what I remember from that birthday, not the fun but temporary cake, nor the toys or the party favors, but the face with the puffy lip and the reality that my little one was getting used to his own body and all that his growing pains brought.

When we allow ourselves to enter into these moments of awkwardness, apparent failure, stumbling, falling down, they can be, if we allow them, sources of what binds us to one another. These moments, if seen as a window to the truth of another, can help us realize that we are in fact all the same; imperfect. On the outside we might look different, but on the inside is it too much to imagine that we all might have some degree of self-doubt, perhaps a level of questioning around our worth, or possibly even our own worthiness; that maybe we all wonder how much we  should expose to another and how soon?  And when we see that in another, in a perfect, open moment where we know that we are not the only one who stumbles, falls down, or screws up the shortcake, is when we know we are not alone, when we realize it’s safe to pull back another corner of our quirky selves.

It is something to consider, the extent to which we go, to present perfect selves to the world around us, to our friends, our neighbors, with the intent of impressing, not burdening, or out doing.  It’s the mess of it all where we truly see each other.

When I see someone and their eyes do not crinkle with a little bit of  life’s twinkle around the edges, I feel that I must suck it in, both literally and figuratively – for how can I relax and show my true shortcake self to this person?  When we see someone express a little doubt, reveal that they are scared, that their life is not all picket fences, we can exhale and know that we are truly ok.

And at the end of the day, is it not something we all strive for, and seek? A place where we know we have a spot with our names etched, where we know we are loved, even when the shortcake tastes likes sawdust, and perhaps loved even a little bit more?

Note to Self | Take Notes

What do you think?

Are there lessons that you seem to have to learn over and over again, wondering why?