It's funny, my generation's response to technology. We are, at times, unapologetic for our constant need for connection, having facebook, twitter, linkedin, and any number of other social networking sites. Not to mention we link our pinterst to our facebook, or our swapping on swap.com to facebook so people can always know what we up to, as if these decisions or our status updates define who we are as human beings. We revel, to some degree in our infinite connections, boasting our every move in our status update, asking the people out in cyber world to give us advice on a difficult life decision, tracking the growth of a fetus in a woman's pregnancy, posting and reposting our political agenda for all to see. Perhaps my generation is aimless or in constant need of validation, or perhaps we all just have severely large ego's, thanks to increased consumerism and the evolving beliefs that parent's should instill in their kid that they are the most amazingly unique individual on the planet (vs. you are one human being in a world full of human beings dependent on one another).
And then, there is the other side of my generation... the side that mocks and makes fun of all the networking and vows that facebook is merely for entertainment and we could stop using it at anytime... like it's a drug. "Really, I could stop whenever I want." And yet, that need for connection becomes so strong that we ultimately relapse from any attempt to go without. And, let it be known that I am no different. These are merely observations, mostly based in my own experience and in comparing with my friends and family. Yet, perhaps this isn't a flaw, but rather an evolution of something that has always been true: we are social beings. Community, connection, and support matter to humans. It's in our structure. So maybe, just maybe, being unapologetic is the way to go.
So, unapologetic I will be here in my appreciation for Craigslist.com... that website that let's you find housing, cars, baby strollers, free landscaping rocks, and even a date. Want a big nasty couch to show how cool and laid back you are... you got it (http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/eug/2698858103.html). I acknowledge that Craigslist has it's flaws and it should be used with caution as people have suffered major losses, thefts, and even physical harm by the connections made through Craigslist. So take this as one woman's experience and that I am only speaking from my personal experiences and nothing else:
You see, in the summer of 2009 my roommate and I put out a clever ad to find two new roommates for our amazing house in east Austin. We included in it all our quirks, things that a roommate would have to accept about us and things that were just unacceptable in our haven on Cherrywood: no smoking in the house, must compost and recycle, energy efficiency required - meaning you may have to deal with 80 degrees in the house in the summer, expect hula hooping and perhaps topless yoga in the backyard, gardeners are welcome, parties are many, creative and able to flow a necessity. As a result of our very long ad, one of my dearest friends headed off on her adventures in Seattle while the other to Chicago and in return two of the most amazing women entered my life and created one of the happiest chapters of my life.
One of these "replacement" roommates just visited me in Montana while I was housesitting for my friends in their straw-bale house with their two big dogs - a very Montana experience. As she and I made quiche and pecan pie and talked about men (or the lack thereof in my case) and life, school and work, I felt immense gratitude that a website like Craigslist brought us together. The ad one set of roommates and I created spoke to this amazing woman who has traveled the world photographing and writing about the realities of an unjust world, as well as the beauties within it. I still very vividly remember "interviewing" her in the backyard and being fascinated by her life and inspired by her aspirations. This person whose accent can't always be determined and who has infinite capacity to accept and give love; who playfully dabbles in art and music while being very talented with all of it. Someone who takes her life seriously but not herself and who laughs deeply and truly seems to find joy in life. How else could she have entered my world? And for that matter, how does anyone enter our universe without the perfect alignment of opportunities or mishaps? This particular friend is one example of my many close friends who have inspired me and impressed me and encouraged me and without whom, I would not be the amazing woman I am today. And as this awe-inspiring world would have it, the opportunities/life transitions have aligned allowing me to soon become a "replacement roommate," finally learning what it's like to be on the other side - to enter a sacred space created by others and learning to find my place with them.
So, as 2012 gets on her way, I hope to keep in my mind the importance of opening myself up to the opportunities, connections, and possibilities that present themselves in the ordinary tasks of life. And yes, Craigslist and the like, have become ordinary life tasks. For whatever it's worth and whatever purpose such websites serve in our ultimately insignificant lives (universally speaking), they present opportunity to connect and to feel supported and to find attachments in places we least expected. Embrace it. It is our reality.
Happy New Year.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Being Gentle
Well, it's been more than a year since I've moved to Montana and about 6 months since I've blogged. I've tried twice to write blog entries intended first at catching people up on my life and then the second attempt was intended to reflect on the year. Both apparently seemed too daunting to complete. So, here I am today, where I am. No looking back (unless it naturally flows from my fingertips into this entry) and no feelings of guilt for not keeping my blog more current. Let it be known only that I had an amazingly full summer which left me delighted at times and wishing that I too could hibernate come winter.
I've noticed many changes in myself, both personally and professionally while on this little journey in time. One thing that has been constant, however, has been my insistence to the girls to "be gentle with yourself." It's my mantra... at least for others. In a job that has potential to be so fulfilling, it can be painfully emotional. I especially struggle when I witness with amazement the growth and internal strength capable at such a fragile age, only to hear such words of negativity and dissatisfaction aimed directly at herself. Of course, it is for this that I am employed, and yet everyday I am impressed with at least one student's talent, resilience, insights, or profound beauty. And, almost everyday I hear tales self-hatred so pervasive I almost wince. This, of course, is when "be gentle with yourself" seems to be the opening line to wherever our therapy will go from that point. Girls have at times nodded before I even finish the line, knowing this mantra all too well.
So, how is it that we can get so wrapped up in our own world that we can offer kind and nurturing words to others that we innocently forget to say to ourselves? On the way to hot springs in Canada the other day, I was sharing with a friend the internal struggles I'm facing: Where am I in life? Where do I want to be? What does what I want, mean? What are my intentions for myself? While revealing each question, I was responding with words of guilt and shame for my current answers to the questions. The responses that felt and feel natural to me at this stage in life are somehow "not right" or "not good enough." She looked at me and said "you know, you really have to be gentle with yourself. I think you're being really hard on yourself." There it was... my own words staring me in the face and rightfully so. In addition to all of those questions I ask myself on a daily basis, I tell myself how I "should" be doing, what my intentions "should" be and where I "should" be in life. What a burden to carry on top of questions that are difficult enough to ask oneself. I mean, is saying what I "should" do really going to make decisions any easier? Is it really going to simplify the next obstacles around the corner? I've been down this path and it most certainly will not. I once had a therapist of my own ask me "would you say the things you say to yourself now to your 6 year old self?" Those were some of the most powerful words ever spoken to me. Think about it. Take a moment to imagine the meanest things you've ever said to yourself... (I would list examples, but I don't really feel like being that forthcoming). Now, imagine saying those things to the cutest version of you at age 5 or 6. Ouch, right? So, I'm bringing this image back to light with hopes that I will be kinder to my being, my soul. After all, our society tells us enough about who we "should" be... we really don't need another person creating more feelings of inadequacy or incompetence. I have my theories on what this behavior is a symptom of, but that's another entry. We are all humans just trying to (ideally) be a better person today than we were the day before. I attempt to live my life aware of my actions and how they effect others so that I might always treat another with kindness and compassion. In the words of the 14th Dalai Lama "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."
And so, here it is... Fall (aka Texas winter). My hands and feet are constantly cold and I find myself less concerned than last year with saving energy by reserving the heaters for only the coldest of nights. And while my mind wants to berate me for my mindless usage of energy, my soul is reminding me that I am just not cut out for this cold weather and it is OK to be comfortable in my own home without wearing 15 layers at all times!
So, my intentions for the week: 1) to be gentle with myself as I sort through some very difficult questions, curiosities, and hopes for myself and 2) to do one thing this week that nurtures my physical being and soul. And, whenever I next come to my computer, ready to inform the world wide web of where I am in life, I hope that I didn't beat myself up in the meantime for how long it took me to return.
Namaste!
I've noticed many changes in myself, both personally and professionally while on this little journey in time. One thing that has been constant, however, has been my insistence to the girls to "be gentle with yourself." It's my mantra... at least for others. In a job that has potential to be so fulfilling, it can be painfully emotional. I especially struggle when I witness with amazement the growth and internal strength capable at such a fragile age, only to hear such words of negativity and dissatisfaction aimed directly at herself. Of course, it is for this that I am employed, and yet everyday I am impressed with at least one student's talent, resilience, insights, or profound beauty. And, almost everyday I hear tales self-hatred so pervasive I almost wince. This, of course, is when "be gentle with yourself" seems to be the opening line to wherever our therapy will go from that point. Girls have at times nodded before I even finish the line, knowing this mantra all too well.
So, how is it that we can get so wrapped up in our own world that we can offer kind and nurturing words to others that we innocently forget to say to ourselves? On the way to hot springs in Canada the other day, I was sharing with a friend the internal struggles I'm facing: Where am I in life? Where do I want to be? What does what I want, mean? What are my intentions for myself? While revealing each question, I was responding with words of guilt and shame for my current answers to the questions. The responses that felt and feel natural to me at this stage in life are somehow "not right" or "not good enough." She looked at me and said "you know, you really have to be gentle with yourself. I think you're being really hard on yourself." There it was... my own words staring me in the face and rightfully so. In addition to all of those questions I ask myself on a daily basis, I tell myself how I "should" be doing, what my intentions "should" be and where I "should" be in life. What a burden to carry on top of questions that are difficult enough to ask oneself. I mean, is saying what I "should" do really going to make decisions any easier? Is it really going to simplify the next obstacles around the corner? I've been down this path and it most certainly will not. I once had a therapist of my own ask me "would you say the things you say to yourself now to your 6 year old self?" Those were some of the most powerful words ever spoken to me. Think about it. Take a moment to imagine the meanest things you've ever said to yourself... (I would list examples, but I don't really feel like being that forthcoming). Now, imagine saying those things to the cutest version of you at age 5 or 6. Ouch, right? So, I'm bringing this image back to light with hopes that I will be kinder to my being, my soul. After all, our society tells us enough about who we "should" be... we really don't need another person creating more feelings of inadequacy or incompetence. I have my theories on what this behavior is a symptom of, but that's another entry. We are all humans just trying to (ideally) be a better person today than we were the day before. I attempt to live my life aware of my actions and how they effect others so that I might always treat another with kindness and compassion. In the words of the 14th Dalai Lama "If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."
And so, here it is... Fall (aka Texas winter). My hands and feet are constantly cold and I find myself less concerned than last year with saving energy by reserving the heaters for only the coldest of nights. And while my mind wants to berate me for my mindless usage of energy, my soul is reminding me that I am just not cut out for this cold weather and it is OK to be comfortable in my own home without wearing 15 layers at all times!
So, my intentions for the week: 1) to be gentle with myself as I sort through some very difficult questions, curiosities, and hopes for myself and 2) to do one thing this week that nurtures my physical being and soul. And, whenever I next come to my computer, ready to inform the world wide web of where I am in life, I hope that I didn't beat myself up in the meantime for how long it took me to return.
Namaste!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Spring's Skin
The seasons are changing. The last two weeks were kissed with snow at daybreak which quickly melted by eleven in the morning. This week has been slightly warmer but grey and wet. The snow is replaced with rain, sleet, and even just the sense that it has rained without actually experiencing the rain itself. Apparently, this is Spring.?. I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that I wake to the sound of geese and also enjoy their calls at dusk, which occurs at approximately 8pm these days. It's an incredible thing to see the sun leave it's mark on the pink clouds at 8 o'clock at night. I am in awe every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. The mountains stand tall with huge, grey clouds looming above them, threatening to wail any minute. Outside my amazing office window, I see birds I have never seen before... tiny little blue birds that flutter quickly as if twitching impulsively; larger black, grey, and red birds that hop around on the ground looking in the dirt for nourishment.
We all know spring is a time of re-birth and ever-changing life and revival. For some reason, though, on this day, I feel as if I am experiencing Spring for the first time. Perhaps its because of the subtleties of the seasons in Texas which often leave a person wondering whether or not there was ever a winter at all. Fall and spring in Texas seem to be a blurred version of the more distinguished summer and winter.... or is Texas winter a blurred version of fall? I hear people who have lived in Montana for a while (or their entire lives) say that this is not quite spring. It seems to me, however, that when you go from the utter silence of a winter, blanketed with snow and few creatures scurrying around for survival to birds chirping and grass slowly turning green again and moss growing in little ponds of melted snow, that spring has in fact arrived. On a recent run, I became irritated with the songs that randomly played on my shuffle (even though I had specifically chosen those songs for running). In between furiously changing songs, I realized that nature was playing it's own soundtrack. The creek I was running along trickled loudly, competing with the little flying creatures' songs of joy and the rustling of a deer dining in the brush.
Things are indeed coming alive in Montana. As am I.
There have been other times in my life when I have said that I have "shed my skin," and yet, I feel like I am shedding yet another layer as I grow increasingly more comfortable in my purpose here. Those unwanted layers that are present at every life transition are being released back into the earth to be a part of the cycle again. All week, I have felt empowered and confident in my work. At times, I felt anxious, but I successfully came back to the present and focused my energy where it needs to be. I have been very aware this week of what my clients need of me.
I started blogging tonight because I realized I needed my own release. I don't know of too many professions, that when done well, leave a person feeling a sense of shared grief. I left work tonight feeling proud of the intense emotional work my clients are doing but I also grieved for them. My heart feels tender and raw tonight; a feeling that eased a bit as I typed about the spring and shedding layers that hinder oneself from truly being present. I know that after a cup of tea, a warm bath, and a nice night of sleep I will again feel fresh and ready to face whatever season we are in up here in Montana. For now, I will meditate on the healing powers of shared experiences and the courage it takes to be vulnerable enough to discover those who can relate to our human experience on this earth... this earth whose heartbeat is within each of us, keeping us connected through eternity.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Finding My Stride
On May 1, 2011 I'll embark on my first race... a 12K in Spokane, Washington called Bloomsday. People commonly believe that the Bloomsday race gets its name from the Lilac Festival which occurs simultaneously. After all, the Lilac Festival is a celebration of the thousands of Lilacs which bloom this time of year, painting the city, well, lilac! This, however, is incorrect, I've recently learned. Originally Bloomsday was a celebration in Dublin, Ireland of Irish writer, James Joyce in which participants followed a day long pilgrimage that replicates the events in Joyce's book Ulysses. The founder of the Bloomsday race was a US marathoner in the 1976 Olympics. He compares the race to the odyssey set out in Ulysses, in which "ordinary people are involved in heroic journeys" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloomsday).
I maintain that I am not a runner and I never have been. I often run with a sense of anger and frustration, cursing every step. I do what I can to try to accept that if I want to run 7.46 miles I have to get through mile 2, 3, 4, and so on. I have made a running playlist, full of otherwise inappropriate music, but music I will grant myself permission to listen to if it makes the hour of misery easier. I give motivational speeches in my head, and I even do the Rocky Balboa when I reach a mile marker... you know you do it too - throwing your hands in the air and running in a victory circle... Dunna duh, dunna duh....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCysXR92LpI
I'm more of the yoga/meditation type. I enjoy subtle (and even strenuous) challenges to my flexibility and balance. I love trying to maintain stable breath while twisting my body and finding stillness. Running, huffing, puffing, and cardio stamina just aren't my thing. So, you might ask, "why would a person who hates running choose to run one of the most heavily populated races in the US?" Well, my motivation has many layers. My two sisters each ran a half marathon last Saturday. This was the second 1/2 marathon for my oldest sister, who ran her first one slightly more than a year after giving birth to her third child. I was in awe of her (and still am). Eight or so years later (last Saturday), my sisters ran together, challenging mind, body, and spirit. My other sister ran this race a mere six months after giving birth to her first child. Wow! I have the blood of heroines running through me! My sisters are inspirational to me in more ways than their physical strength, and I have the fortune of running Bloomsday along side one of my sisters who will join me in Spokane and run beside me, motivating me the whole way. My second motivation is the girls I work with. Many of them will embark on this same race in addition to their continued bravery in self-discovery and growth. They challenge themselves in ways that would make Balboa look like Steve Urkel (metaphors aren't my thing, but you get the picture). If they can run this race, so can I! More than that, what an opportunity to show a group of teenage girls that some adults will put themselves up against similar challenges to join them in their journey. My third reason is, well, me. This race seemed to be the perfect opportunity to challenge myself and create a routine here in Montana. I view it as an opportunity to settle into life and reach for something that has never felt attainable to me. I want to know what it feels like to physically challenge myself and reach my goal! I want to feel strong and stable. And, let's face it, I've got time on my hands living in a small town!
The last two Sundays I ran 4 miles. Two Sundays ago was the first time I've ever run this far. I maintained a steady pace, running for four minutes and walking for one. There are different theories and recommendations on the best way for beginner runners to train for a race. I've found the run/walk method to be the most fitting for me, though I try to run at least 4 times the amount I walk as opposed to only 2 or 3 times. This method makes the run bearable, especially when most days I'm running on a treadmill because the weather outside is ridiculously cold, rainy, or icy. The brief walk gives me a break, and to be honest, some days 4 minutes feels like 2 hours. I felt so triumphant as I slowed the treadmill down at mile 4 and allowed myself a nice slow cool down. "I can do anything," I thought to myself.
Last Sunday, I had the fortune of running outside on a sunny Montana day with a new friend who is also running Bloomsday. The hills killed me and took my breath much more quickly than I anticipated. I felt embarrassed at how winded I was. Together we each needed to walk from time to time to catch our breath. We ran up hill consistently for 2 miles and finished strong running about 1.5 miles without walking at all at the very end. It was a great run, having the support of a friend, the company of her dog (and one loose Great Dane who wanted to join us), the mountains ahead of us, and the bright blue sky. On top of the accomplishment, it felt like Spring was near. Birds chirped, cows mooed, and snow continued to melt.
Then, today I found myself again on the treadmill. I did not start in the best of moods. I did not want to be there and I did NOT want to run. My knees were a little achy from the hills and my day was off to an irritable start. As I started running, I noticed to my surprise that my breath was steady and my legs were strong. When I arrived at the time for the first one-minute walk, I pushed myself to keep running. Soon, I looked down and had run 25 minutes without walking once. And, that was it. I was determined to run the entire 4 miles today... no walking. As I neared my goal, I felt an increasing sense of strength and confidence. When I finally reached mile 4, with no one around to celebrate with, I offered myself a silent high-five and immense internal gratitude. I feel quite proud of this accomplishment, and I will say that as I focused on my goal, I never faltered. I felt strong throughout the whole run. I felt tired toward the end, but I never felt weak. I always knew I could do it. I didn't even experience my usual superficial complaints and whines. I just kept running, like Forrest Gump... well.... sort of. It was an amazing feeling to be covered in sweat and weary from challenging myself. I know 4 miles isn't much to many people, but for me... this really is a big deal. I realize as I write this, that perhaps I have found my stride in running. Perhaps I have reached that point that runners talk about where the body just keeps moving, unfazed by the work and effort. Perhaps, this is the point at which, I learn to have faith in myself and my strength and stop telling myself "I'm not a runner." I may never be a marathoner, but today's effort constitutes a little bit of faith in the fact that I might just have a heroine within me too.
------
As the locals tease me about not getting too excited for Spring just yet, I realize that I'm settling in to life in Montana. I feel as though finding my stride in running is not all that different from finding my stride in my new existence. Winter has been a cold, lonely time for me as I learn the ins and outs of my job and fumble to understand the cultural nuances of living in a rural town in Montana. For the past 5 months, I've been settling in to this job. Understanding the expectations and getting back in touch with my style and way of relating and helping, has been a slow process. Each day, however, my comfort level grows, and I feel more at ease balancing the necessary firmness with nurturance. My compassion overload is ceasing and I am gaining a clearer, truer perspective of who I am and how to fit that into the work I do. I am learning to be patient with myself and with others. I am continuing to practice accepting my experience as it is without judgment. I am finding my stride.
I am aware that winter is not quite over, and while I wish it was, I'm ok with the possibility of a June snowfall. I've noticed with the sound of the birds, as the forest around me seems to be waking up from it's slumber, that winter is a time for peace and self-reflection. It is a time to turn inward, a time to bunker down and learn to be with oneself. So perhaps, with this glimpse of Spring, I can be joyful and grateful, and look forward to the possibility of another (hopefully brief) time of peace and (continued) self-reflection.
And, at the end of the day, perhaps I am an ordinary person involved in a heroic journey.
I maintain that I am not a runner and I never have been. I often run with a sense of anger and frustration, cursing every step. I do what I can to try to accept that if I want to run 7.46 miles I have to get through mile 2, 3, 4, and so on. I have made a running playlist, full of otherwise inappropriate music, but music I will grant myself permission to listen to if it makes the hour of misery easier. I give motivational speeches in my head, and I even do the Rocky Balboa when I reach a mile marker... you know you do it too - throwing your hands in the air and running in a victory circle... Dunna duh, dunna duh....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCysXR92LpI
I'm more of the yoga/meditation type. I enjoy subtle (and even strenuous) challenges to my flexibility and balance. I love trying to maintain stable breath while twisting my body and finding stillness. Running, huffing, puffing, and cardio stamina just aren't my thing. So, you might ask, "why would a person who hates running choose to run one of the most heavily populated races in the US?" Well, my motivation has many layers. My two sisters each ran a half marathon last Saturday. This was the second 1/2 marathon for my oldest sister, who ran her first one slightly more than a year after giving birth to her third child. I was in awe of her (and still am). Eight or so years later (last Saturday), my sisters ran together, challenging mind, body, and spirit. My other sister ran this race a mere six months after giving birth to her first child. Wow! I have the blood of heroines running through me! My sisters are inspirational to me in more ways than their physical strength, and I have the fortune of running Bloomsday along side one of my sisters who will join me in Spokane and run beside me, motivating me the whole way. My second motivation is the girls I work with. Many of them will embark on this same race in addition to their continued bravery in self-discovery and growth. They challenge themselves in ways that would make Balboa look like Steve Urkel (metaphors aren't my thing, but you get the picture). If they can run this race, so can I! More than that, what an opportunity to show a group of teenage girls that some adults will put themselves up against similar challenges to join them in their journey. My third reason is, well, me. This race seemed to be the perfect opportunity to challenge myself and create a routine here in Montana. I view it as an opportunity to settle into life and reach for something that has never felt attainable to me. I want to know what it feels like to physically challenge myself and reach my goal! I want to feel strong and stable. And, let's face it, I've got time on my hands living in a small town!
The last two Sundays I ran 4 miles. Two Sundays ago was the first time I've ever run this far. I maintained a steady pace, running for four minutes and walking for one. There are different theories and recommendations on the best way for beginner runners to train for a race. I've found the run/walk method to be the most fitting for me, though I try to run at least 4 times the amount I walk as opposed to only 2 or 3 times. This method makes the run bearable, especially when most days I'm running on a treadmill because the weather outside is ridiculously cold, rainy, or icy. The brief walk gives me a break, and to be honest, some days 4 minutes feels like 2 hours. I felt so triumphant as I slowed the treadmill down at mile 4 and allowed myself a nice slow cool down. "I can do anything," I thought to myself.
Last Sunday, I had the fortune of running outside on a sunny Montana day with a new friend who is also running Bloomsday. The hills killed me and took my breath much more quickly than I anticipated. I felt embarrassed at how winded I was. Together we each needed to walk from time to time to catch our breath. We ran up hill consistently for 2 miles and finished strong running about 1.5 miles without walking at all at the very end. It was a great run, having the support of a friend, the company of her dog (and one loose Great Dane who wanted to join us), the mountains ahead of us, and the bright blue sky. On top of the accomplishment, it felt like Spring was near. Birds chirped, cows mooed, and snow continued to melt.
Then, today I found myself again on the treadmill. I did not start in the best of moods. I did not want to be there and I did NOT want to run. My knees were a little achy from the hills and my day was off to an irritable start. As I started running, I noticed to my surprise that my breath was steady and my legs were strong. When I arrived at the time for the first one-minute walk, I pushed myself to keep running. Soon, I looked down and had run 25 minutes without walking once. And, that was it. I was determined to run the entire 4 miles today... no walking. As I neared my goal, I felt an increasing sense of strength and confidence. When I finally reached mile 4, with no one around to celebrate with, I offered myself a silent high-five and immense internal gratitude. I feel quite proud of this accomplishment, and I will say that as I focused on my goal, I never faltered. I felt strong throughout the whole run. I felt tired toward the end, but I never felt weak. I always knew I could do it. I didn't even experience my usual superficial complaints and whines. I just kept running, like Forrest Gump... well.... sort of. It was an amazing feeling to be covered in sweat and weary from challenging myself. I know 4 miles isn't much to many people, but for me... this really is a big deal. I realize as I write this, that perhaps I have found my stride in running. Perhaps I have reached that point that runners talk about where the body just keeps moving, unfazed by the work and effort. Perhaps, this is the point at which, I learn to have faith in myself and my strength and stop telling myself "I'm not a runner." I may never be a marathoner, but today's effort constitutes a little bit of faith in the fact that I might just have a heroine within me too.
------
As the locals tease me about not getting too excited for Spring just yet, I realize that I'm settling in to life in Montana. I feel as though finding my stride in running is not all that different from finding my stride in my new existence. Winter has been a cold, lonely time for me as I learn the ins and outs of my job and fumble to understand the cultural nuances of living in a rural town in Montana. For the past 5 months, I've been settling in to this job. Understanding the expectations and getting back in touch with my style and way of relating and helping, has been a slow process. Each day, however, my comfort level grows, and I feel more at ease balancing the necessary firmness with nurturance. My compassion overload is ceasing and I am gaining a clearer, truer perspective of who I am and how to fit that into the work I do. I am learning to be patient with myself and with others. I am continuing to practice accepting my experience as it is without judgment. I am finding my stride.
I am aware that winter is not quite over, and while I wish it was, I'm ok with the possibility of a June snowfall. I've noticed with the sound of the birds, as the forest around me seems to be waking up from it's slumber, that winter is a time for peace and self-reflection. It is a time to turn inward, a time to bunker down and learn to be with oneself. So perhaps, with this glimpse of Spring, I can be joyful and grateful, and look forward to the possibility of another (hopefully brief) time of peace and (continued) self-reflection.
And, at the end of the day, perhaps I am an ordinary person involved in a heroic journey.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Way of Being
There is really no where to go to hide from your emotions and experience in a town this small. We have no stop light or stop sign, and you can't go to the grocery store without seeing a person you work with or the yoga instructor or the local forest ranger or the guy who installed your cable, etc. Just yesterday I was having lunch with a friend, and up walks Herb, one of my fellas from the gym. There are about 4 men in their 60s-80s who are at the gym every morning when I go get a run in because it's too cold to run outdoors. (If you go at just the right time, you have to dodge a herd of elk on your way to the gym and then get to enjoy the most stunning sunrise over the mountains as you leave the gym). My fellas from the gym are the same four men that occupy a table at our local diner each and every morning for coffee and gossip. Herb said he hadn't seen me at the gym in a while but that he met one of my co-workers. He inquires about how many girls are currently enrolled at our school, and I explain that I hadn't been to the gym in a few days because I slipped on ice and badly bruised my shin and knee. It's always refreshing when I see people I know in the community. It's exciting because sometimes it's the only human contact I have in a day or the only human contact I have outside of therapy sessions and therapy groups. I feel revived even from a brief encounter. I feel reconnected to the human race. I feel less alone in this wilderness.
At least once a week (sometimes more), I miss having roommates and dread going home to a house with only a four pound dog occupying it (though I am intensely grateful for Sophie's company). So on my mind, lately, has been loneliness and how different it can be at any given time in life. Several of my friends have moved to cities with millions of people existing within the invisible city limits, and they have also reported a sense of loneliness. They walk out their door and traffic zooms by the hundreds of people on the street, rushing about to brunch with their book club or to Whole Foods for a lecture on organic wheatgrass. They do this without interacting with the people who share those same experiences. They function as millions of strangers following a lonely path without acknowledging that the people walking along side them seek human connection too. Then there is the friend who just transitioned into her very own apartment in the same city where all our friends reside. She too feels lonely, now in a house without the constant energy of roommates and pets. In writing a letter to my sister, I reflected upon a particularly lonely time in my life. I wasn't physically lonely. I had friends and family nearby. The loneliness I felt then was much different than what I feel now. It was a deeper loneliness, one that human contact couldn't cure. The kind of loneliness that comes when you are struggling alone because no one understands your suffering, or at least you don't think they'll understand. I found myself with a pot of french press coffee (Montana Coffee Traders, of course), writing that letter in the one seat at my table where the sunlight stretched her arms, feeling so grateful that my current loneliness was of a different breed. I no longer feel misunderstood or neglected. I simply miss laughter, and pots banging in the kitchen in the early morning, and the smell of garlic and onions sautéing on the stove when I arrive home from work, and the sound of a roommate on the phone with a friend as she pulls weeds in the garden, and the sound of the gentle strumming of a guitar coming from the "fainting couch" in the living room.
I am relieved, I realize, that all I suffer from is having so many beautiful memories that I long to maintain connections and friendships. I am relieved that the cure for my current ache is in simply reaching out to the amazing people who are in my life, here in this small town and back in Austin (and southeast Texas and many other places across the country). Though I live alone, I am not on this journey by myself. I am excited to develop more friendships and enjoy more laughter and silly jokes. I look forward to bonfires and hiking and cheese-making, all with lovely people in a vast and beautiful spot on this magnificent earth.
And in the times when I feel alone and particularly lonely, I am learning to look inward. I'll admit, it's not always an easy choice, especially when there are mindless movies and sitcoms available for streaming and with the potential to help me forget that I am actually an active participant in my own life. The way I see it, the task at hand is for me to find a way of being that is congruent with who I am at my core... whether I live alone or with many, whether I seek solitude or connections. I aim to find peace in my existence. I aspire to relish in the sounds of my own creations (and the sounds of Sophie's exuberant personality). I will set an intention on this very day to use this time in my life to practice being intensely present and focused on just being. Being without need or want. Of course, I've set this intention before in my life and have been unable to maintain this way of being for a sustained period of time. As a result, I will go about this in a different manner than before. I will go about living this intention with radical acceptance. I will no longer compare myself to others, and I will no longer judge myself when I'm too distracted to come back to the present moment. I will simply acknowledge and accept my experience and feelings and learn from that information.
--------------
Gratitudes:
Longer days
Sunshine
Shared journals
Sophie
Mountains
Insects (and that their sound represents either that spring is approaching or that they are confused)
Fresh milk
Music
French press coffee
Sisters
Friends
At least once a week (sometimes more), I miss having roommates and dread going home to a house with only a four pound dog occupying it (though I am intensely grateful for Sophie's company). So on my mind, lately, has been loneliness and how different it can be at any given time in life. Several of my friends have moved to cities with millions of people existing within the invisible city limits, and they have also reported a sense of loneliness. They walk out their door and traffic zooms by the hundreds of people on the street, rushing about to brunch with their book club or to Whole Foods for a lecture on organic wheatgrass. They do this without interacting with the people who share those same experiences. They function as millions of strangers following a lonely path without acknowledging that the people walking along side them seek human connection too. Then there is the friend who just transitioned into her very own apartment in the same city where all our friends reside. She too feels lonely, now in a house without the constant energy of roommates and pets. In writing a letter to my sister, I reflected upon a particularly lonely time in my life. I wasn't physically lonely. I had friends and family nearby. The loneliness I felt then was much different than what I feel now. It was a deeper loneliness, one that human contact couldn't cure. The kind of loneliness that comes when you are struggling alone because no one understands your suffering, or at least you don't think they'll understand. I found myself with a pot of french press coffee (Montana Coffee Traders, of course), writing that letter in the one seat at my table where the sunlight stretched her arms, feeling so grateful that my current loneliness was of a different breed. I no longer feel misunderstood or neglected. I simply miss laughter, and pots banging in the kitchen in the early morning, and the smell of garlic and onions sautéing on the stove when I arrive home from work, and the sound of a roommate on the phone with a friend as she pulls weeds in the garden, and the sound of the gentle strumming of a guitar coming from the "fainting couch" in the living room.
I am relieved, I realize, that all I suffer from is having so many beautiful memories that I long to maintain connections and friendships. I am relieved that the cure for my current ache is in simply reaching out to the amazing people who are in my life, here in this small town and back in Austin (and southeast Texas and many other places across the country). Though I live alone, I am not on this journey by myself. I am excited to develop more friendships and enjoy more laughter and silly jokes. I look forward to bonfires and hiking and cheese-making, all with lovely people in a vast and beautiful spot on this magnificent earth.
And in the times when I feel alone and particularly lonely, I am learning to look inward. I'll admit, it's not always an easy choice, especially when there are mindless movies and sitcoms available for streaming and with the potential to help me forget that I am actually an active participant in my own life. The way I see it, the task at hand is for me to find a way of being that is congruent with who I am at my core... whether I live alone or with many, whether I seek solitude or connections. I aim to find peace in my existence. I aspire to relish in the sounds of my own creations (and the sounds of Sophie's exuberant personality). I will set an intention on this very day to use this time in my life to practice being intensely present and focused on just being. Being without need or want. Of course, I've set this intention before in my life and have been unable to maintain this way of being for a sustained period of time. As a result, I will go about this in a different manner than before. I will go about living this intention with radical acceptance. I will no longer compare myself to others, and I will no longer judge myself when I'm too distracted to come back to the present moment. I will simply acknowledge and accept my experience and feelings and learn from that information.
--------------
Gratitudes:
Longer days
Sunshine
Shared journals
Sophie
Mountains
Insects (and that their sound represents either that spring is approaching or that they are confused)
Fresh milk
Music
French press coffee
Sisters
Friends
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Earning a Visit and My Parallel Process
To have a visit from family members, a student must be at the school for at least 8 weeks. To be allowed to go home for a visit, a girl must earn her Level 2 designation which signifies she has proven herself to be trustworthy in the community on a consistent basis. She will also fully accept her life on campus and within the community. This can take anywhere from 5 months to a year, sometimes more sometimes less. I struggle each time I have to answer a parent who asks "why can't my daughter come home for a weekend?" My heart aches; I crumble. I take a deep breath and explain how a disruption early in her stay could make it very difficult for her to accept her life on campus as well as the emotional work she was sent here to do. Prior to the holiday, it was the hardest thing for me to say. It was hard because I didn't believe it fully. I hadn't "fully accepted" the words I was speaking... then I went back to Texas for a week.
I had heart to hearts with nephews, cuddled with my niece, ate and chatted with my sisters. I felt at home. I felt at ease. I felt comfortable for the first time in more than three months. There was no one to prove myself to; no agenda; no "new kid on the block" feeling. I never once doubted the way I was interacting with my family the way I do with my new acquaintances in Montana (to no fault of their own).
My flight left Houston at 7am on a Tuesday morning which meant I had to leave my parents' house by 3am to get there in time due to anticipated holiday travel chaos. I spent my last night celebrating my sister's birthday at her house. As the night wore on, family members trickled out. My best friend and sister left with her three boys and husband with whispers of how proud they were of me. My 15 year old nephew, who I grew closer to on this short trip than any other since he's entered adolescence, obediently hugged me, released, and then pulled me back in for another side hug. A gesture I hope to never forget. As each hour passed by I told myself, "just one more hour... then I will go home to sleep." As each new hour came I found myself sending wishes to the stars that if I never left that backyard, 3am would never come; there would not be a plane ticket with my name on it, and there would not be an apartment in the middle of Montana with all of my possessions in it. By 1:30am my clothes could absorb no more smoke from the fire pit and I could no longer put off saying goodbye to my sister, my other best friend. I tiptoed into her house to kiss my sweet three month old niece, Alice, goodbye as she slept soundly with her hands above her head the way infants do.
In hindsight, I realize that my attempts to negotiate with the stars kept me from taking full advantage of the two hour drive I had to say goodbye and thank you to my parents. Instead, I slept. I jumped out of the car, still half asleep, and gave quick hugs to the people who have given their unending support of my endeavors and who had to turn around and drive right back to where we came from. I rushed through baggage claim with my tranquilized dog in tow, wishing I were in a cozy little cage unaware of my reality. I waited in the security line and wept. Sleepiness, the after effects of wine from the night before, and emotion all caught up to me. I quietly and almost unnoticeably let go.
I returned feeling lonelier than ever before. I found myself sobbing as I texted with my sister who was traveling with her family and unable to talk on the phone unless she wanted my sadness to play on speakerphone for my nephews and brother-in-law to hear... the ones who are proud of me and who, I imagine, think I'm quite a strong person. I texted that I regretted my decision and that I was angry that I chose this life. I was irrational and I knew it, but I felt helpless against the overwhelming emptiness. I felt alone as I was about to enter a new year without a single soul I felt close to. My sister reminded me that there is a grand picture that will reveal itself to me one day, letting me know why I wandered up to the mountains. "There are life lessons you cannot even imagine right now and this will be one of the most memorable New Years of your life, even if it is the loneliest" she wrote. I read and re-read that message and knew she was right. Welcome back rationality.
Deep breaths. Fresh mountain air in. Openness to new friendships. Adventure at my fingertips. All things to relish in in 2011.
The next morning I went cross country skiing and made a commitment to myself and one of my new friends to be positive and to see the proverbial green grass in my life. Each day since I've witnessed, experienced, and welcomed new joys in my life. I've made more connections; I've started working out; I've re-entered my job confidently and openly.
During one of the first circles back at work, all but a few of the girls were in attendance. I observed their greetings to one another and hugs and embraces as those who had earned a visit off campus for the holidays were welcomed back. I felt lightness. I felt joy at their joy. I felt that same comfort I felt at home... as if I were exactly were I needed to be.
Now, as I reflect on that intensely lonely day upon my return, I believe in the message I tell parents about why we recommend their girls don't go home until they are fully settled. I understand that "earning" a visit is for the protection of the girls' emotional well-being. While we cannot protect them from ever feeling lonely or even from regressing a bit after a visit, we can protect them from facing inevitable loneliness without the resources to come back to the present moment and get back on their skis.
I had heart to hearts with nephews, cuddled with my niece, ate and chatted with my sisters. I felt at home. I felt at ease. I felt comfortable for the first time in more than three months. There was no one to prove myself to; no agenda; no "new kid on the block" feeling. I never once doubted the way I was interacting with my family the way I do with my new acquaintances in Montana (to no fault of their own).
My flight left Houston at 7am on a Tuesday morning which meant I had to leave my parents' house by 3am to get there in time due to anticipated holiday travel chaos. I spent my last night celebrating my sister's birthday at her house. As the night wore on, family members trickled out. My best friend and sister left with her three boys and husband with whispers of how proud they were of me. My 15 year old nephew, who I grew closer to on this short trip than any other since he's entered adolescence, obediently hugged me, released, and then pulled me back in for another side hug. A gesture I hope to never forget. As each hour passed by I told myself, "just one more hour... then I will go home to sleep." As each new hour came I found myself sending wishes to the stars that if I never left that backyard, 3am would never come; there would not be a plane ticket with my name on it, and there would not be an apartment in the middle of Montana with all of my possessions in it. By 1:30am my clothes could absorb no more smoke from the fire pit and I could no longer put off saying goodbye to my sister, my other best friend. I tiptoed into her house to kiss my sweet three month old niece, Alice, goodbye as she slept soundly with her hands above her head the way infants do.
In hindsight, I realize that my attempts to negotiate with the stars kept me from taking full advantage of the two hour drive I had to say goodbye and thank you to my parents. Instead, I slept. I jumped out of the car, still half asleep, and gave quick hugs to the people who have given their unending support of my endeavors and who had to turn around and drive right back to where we came from. I rushed through baggage claim with my tranquilized dog in tow, wishing I were in a cozy little cage unaware of my reality. I waited in the security line and wept. Sleepiness, the after effects of wine from the night before, and emotion all caught up to me. I quietly and almost unnoticeably let go.
I returned feeling lonelier than ever before. I found myself sobbing as I texted with my sister who was traveling with her family and unable to talk on the phone unless she wanted my sadness to play on speakerphone for my nephews and brother-in-law to hear... the ones who are proud of me and who, I imagine, think I'm quite a strong person. I texted that I regretted my decision and that I was angry that I chose this life. I was irrational and I knew it, but I felt helpless against the overwhelming emptiness. I felt alone as I was about to enter a new year without a single soul I felt close to. My sister reminded me that there is a grand picture that will reveal itself to me one day, letting me know why I wandered up to the mountains. "There are life lessons you cannot even imagine right now and this will be one of the most memorable New Years of your life, even if it is the loneliest" she wrote. I read and re-read that message and knew she was right. Welcome back rationality.
Deep breaths. Fresh mountain air in. Openness to new friendships. Adventure at my fingertips. All things to relish in in 2011.
The next morning I went cross country skiing and made a commitment to myself and one of my new friends to be positive and to see the proverbial green grass in my life. Each day since I've witnessed, experienced, and welcomed new joys in my life. I've made more connections; I've started working out; I've re-entered my job confidently and openly.
During one of the first circles back at work, all but a few of the girls were in attendance. I observed their greetings to one another and hugs and embraces as those who had earned a visit off campus for the holidays were welcomed back. I felt lightness. I felt joy at their joy. I felt that same comfort I felt at home... as if I were exactly were I needed to be.
Now, as I reflect on that intensely lonely day upon my return, I believe in the message I tell parents about why we recommend their girls don't go home until they are fully settled. I understand that "earning" a visit is for the protection of the girls' emotional well-being. While we cannot protect them from ever feeling lonely or even from regressing a bit after a visit, we can protect them from facing inevitable loneliness without the resources to come back to the present moment and get back on their skis.
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