Awakening, again

"Join me in a 21-day meditation challenge!" was a message posted on my friend Sandy's Facebook wall. I notice that when I just jump into things without giving it too much thought, my subconscious is in need, searching the universe for the opportunity.

"Why not?" So I jumped in.

Every morning, before the world and my ego self, recognizes that I am awake, I access the daily reflection and meditation that shows up in my in box. It's been a week now and I've noticed some things.

I've noticed that some of the exercises are pretty challenging. I was told to spend one day doing a simple affirmation whenever I found myself looking into a mirror. Make eye contact with myself and say, "I see you. I appreciate you. I love you."

No big deal. Except that it WAS. Do you really see your self? Many men shave in the morning, women may apply a moisturizer or a full face of make up, but do we really look into our own eyes? And then tell our selves that we love us? I was really surprised by the awkward feeling I had the first few times I did it. Thing is, no one else was looking. I'm in the ladies room. Alone. It was just me, myself, and I, and it took some getting used to.

Do we really allow ourselves to know who we truly are? Not our roles, not the personality that has been created, not the person that life has molded us to be, but the true essence of our selves? This may be a revelation for some, the possibility that the push and pull we feel within at times is the tug of war between who we really are and who we and the rest of the world have deemed we "should" be. 

I have found that when I am spending my time being my everyday self, the person the world has deemed I should be,  I worry more. I worry about whether or not I am enough or worthy. There's a lot of measuring done - bank accounts, car, house, material things, social life, etc.

My ego/everyday self keeps me in line. I check my words. I don't fully share my feelings of joy, love, disappointment, hurt, anger. Besides, living as my everyday self insulates me, protects me. I'm not opening myself and risking getting hurt. I can just keep the walls up, keep everyone in their tidy and defined boxes, my new found boundaries up, and my true self stays protected. 

This past week of engaging in daily meditation has been interesting. I am witnessing this interplay between my everyday self and my true self, the push and pull between them. When I am mindful and present and living in my true self, my ego gets nervous and sounds the warning bells. Like the voice on the GPS after you've gone against their driving directions or simply missed the turn, there's this slightly disgusted tone in the voice, "Recalculating." Duh. Trust me, Loser.

I get that my ego self is there to protect me. But like my Norton Antivirus system that has decided that my iPod shuffle is an intruder that we will not allow ourselves to sync up with, or the over protective parent,
or one guy tries to blow up a plane with a shoe bomb and now we all take off our shoes before we fly, there are times when our concertina-topped walls are keeping out far more good stuff than they are protecting us from what could be a threat.

There is no doubt that those walls are there for good reason. We know from painful experience how devastating life's experiences can be. None of us escape these and we learn to protect ourselves as best we can. We mitigate our risk. We build an elaborate system of landmines, moats, locked doors, and such in order to protect ourselves from ever experiencing that pain again.

I was reminded this week about the story of Icarus who had a great dream to fly. He built his wings and flew too close to the sun. His dreams got him hurt. Or did they? After all, he did fly.

The gifts of life are abundant and rich. In order to fully experience them, we must be willing to open to accept them. To allow ourselves to be vulnerable. To let people out of the emotional boxes we have placed them in for our own protection and safekeeping.


"There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."  Anais Nin

The bud can die on the vine, without ever blooming or coming to fruition. Where do you need to allow yourself to open and take a small risk?

What's under the bed?

As a young undergraduate in the early 1980's at the University of Iowa, the comic strip "Bloom County" was a favorite of many. Berkley Breathed, the creator and cartoonist of the strip, lived in Iowa City in the early days of Bloom County and referenced many Iowa City landmarks.

For me, the enduring character of Michael Binkley and his closet of anxieties has been a light-hearted way for me to deal with my own. Every once in a while, my own closet of anxieties opens up a Pandora's box of irrational and bizarre things to worry about.

Dressed in his sweet footie pyjamas and his totally 80's techno-pop hairdo, Binkley has a closet filled with 80's icons that scare him to pieces. What I admire about Binkley, is that he is not too afraid to actually take a look inside.

I notice that when life has a particularly high number of stressful events that require me to be on my game pretty much all the time, I tend to have these kinds of night visitors.

"It's the friends you can call at 4 a.m. that matter." - Marlene Dietrich

And usually what happens is that my 4 a.m. someone is there and can take the flashlight, shine it under the bed and in the closet and say, "See, Laura? There's nothing there but good stuff."

Good stuff, indeed. Here's a post I read today that admonishes us to not gloss over the good stuff. No kidding. How many times do we take for granted the incredible that happens to us every day? I live a charmed life, no doubt about it, and I often miss it thinking that because it's not happening the way I envisioned/scripted/wanted-to-control, that somehow, it's not good. Silly, isn't it?

Just like any parent trying to calm a child's fears, the question is, "Is this for real?"

Makes sense, doesn't it? Are these unsettled feelings coming from true stressors, things that are actually happening or is this just my overactive, highly-developed imagination awful-izing things? And, it's always the latter. I find that I don't lose sleep over the events of the day that I'm living through, but the oh so tempting act of worrying about potential problems.

Seth Godin wrote about the opposite of anxiety this week and he defined non-clinical anxiety as "experiencing failure in advance," and "amplifying the worst possible outcomes."

Yes. That's it. So, let's imagine the best possible outcomes and be amazed by all that is good instead of scaring the wits out of us with monsters under the bed.

So, where were we?

July has been a wild and crazy ride and now it is nearly over. The kids got their school registration packets in the mail with all the papers to fill out, class schedules, and lists of supplies to buy in the next few weeks. They are kind of excited about school starting again, which is encouraging. I'm not wishing summer away, but it does make that transition back to the school year a lot less dramatic when it's greeted with a skosh of enthusiasm.

We're all back home now after summer trips and nothing else planned for a while. It feels good to plan trips, look forward to them, and then be able to return home to enjoy the memories made.

The past month has been intense and filled with transition, both obvious and subtle. In the coming days, my dear stepmother will be moving to a care center because of the progression of dementia and her body inconveniently giving up some of her motor skills. She's falling more and it's just not safe for her to be in their home. It's not what anyone truly wants, but there it is. My dad and stepsister have given her the gift of being in her home for several months. My dad would say that getting old ain't for sissies. I would say that caring for those who are getting old takes Herculean effort. And a village.

I bought advance Iowa State Fair tickets this week and Dad is coming along. Easing out of 24/7 caregiving into 24/7 free time would be a tough one for me and we're thinking of ways to get together more as we all move into this new place of being family.

Emily wanted to redecorate her bedroom this week while John was away and was motivated enough to clear the room of absolutely everything, including a full dresser, by herself. Of course it is all in my living room at present, but we're nearly finished transforming a little girl's room into a teen girl's room. The flower fairies are long gone and now a vibrant turquoise is taking the place of the pale yellow.


I'm also recognizing that the time I am spending on my own are little test runs for me, easing me into the next several years. My oldest is a sophomore this year and before we know it, we'll be moving him to college. My youngest is starting 7th grade and she will not be far behind. I stayed in a motel by myself for the first time in my life a couple of weeks ago. A small thing, but I find it interesting that individually, and collectively, we are all transitioning toward greater independence in my family.

My church is also going through a long transition searching for pastoral leadership. As the moderator, or president, of our congregation, I've been spending the past month securing us a pastor. I find it interesting that I have hired more pastors in my life than any other "employee." I'm thinking the number is seven for various congregations and positions. I must say that this most recent one is one of my favorites and he hasn't even started yet.

This is the summer when my core sister-friends turn 50. They've been blazing trails through the decades with me since I was 13. They did just about everything before I did. They told me about driving on their own. Their first legal beer. Voting. And all the other things, boys, girls, diplomas, mortgages, and marriages before I did. And they have served me well to show me the way.

It is human nature to fear change. Although, if we were pressed, we wouldn't really want things to stay the same. It is possible to hold opposite emotions and feelings at the same time. That desire we have for our children to have wonderful, fulfilling, and independent lives while holding on to our desire for their daily presence at our kitchen table. The time of having a foot in each place. Of watching a 12 year old going back and forth between girl and young woman.

Several years ago, I would have been terrified and completely overwhelmed by a month like this one. And I freely admit to feeling nervous, but also excited and energized at the possibilities that lie ahead.

If you haven't read Elizabeth Lesser's book, "Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help us Grow," you should. Recognize that all transitions, happy and joyful ones as well as those that are painful, are changes. They may come with feelings of grief. Lesser's book is the handbook you wish you had when you don't quite know what to do when these life changes arise. It's one of those books you pass along to friends.

Lesser writes, "How strange that the nature of life is change, yet the nature of human beings is to resist change. And how ironic that the difficult times we fear might ruin us are the very ones that can break us open and blossom into who we were meant to be."

I know this to be true.

Toweling off from the stress bath

It's been a quiet week in Lake Woebegon...

While that's another's famous opening line, it's true here, too. The kids and I met my mom and stepdad at Ikea in Minneapolis last Saturday. We had kottbullar (meatballs) and lingon and it did my little Svensk-Americansk heart a lot of good. No, they don't taste anything like Grandma Betty's, but they'll do. We had a browse and then they went their way back to Detroit Lakes and I went my way back to Grinnell. Alone. We'll do this again in a couple of weeks.

Alone? I know, right? A couple of weeks!

Like a kid looking forward to summer vacation, the whole idea of being only responsible for my own self and no one else spreads out in front of me like the toy section from Sears and Roebuck. The potential! The possibilities! I can eat what and when I want to for supper! I can go to bed at 8 if I wanna. I can control the TV remote!

Two days into my amazing vacation, the stress of life starts finding its way out of me. I am exhausted. Monday morning, I can hardly haul myself out of bed. I go into work late morning only to turn around and come right back home to bed and sleep for two hours, awakened only by the phone. I feel numb and beat. Seriously, I don't even want coffee. Referring to my ethnic heritage, coffee is the drink of my people. Russians have vodka, Brits have tea, Swedes drink coffee. Copious amounts. I have no desire for the stuff this week. It's as if my body has said that I am beyond coffee. I need rest, not caffeine.

The last time this happened, I later learned that I was expecting my son John. I can assure you without a doubt that is certainly not the case this time. So what is it?

It's stress. Honestly.

We coast along through life thinking that we got this. It's all good. Make the lists, check the boxes, we got it goin' on, don't we Baby?

But our bodies tell a different story. We are bathing in our own stress hormones and we don't even know it. Have you ever been working toward some goal or event, a date on the calendar and then you end up sick a few days after? When our bodies finally have a chance to let down, the stress comes out.

I miss my kiddos, no doubt about it and I'll be very glad when they come back home. But I also realize that as a single parent I need to particularly aware of this. To do things on my own, to be myself and not always in parent mode. Making time for myself and finding time to be alone is not easy, but hugely important. It's a little trickier than it seems to get used to being alone. I'm an extrovert who needs alone time, but this is a lot of alone time for me. I suspect I'll get the hang of this about two days before they come home.

This is the shape of things to come. With a rising high school sophomore and seventh grader, I have more of this time to look forward to. Perhaps I need to see these weeks on my own as practice for the real thing.

In the meantime, it's time to recognize that my stress levels are far higher than I realize and I need to be taking it seriously. Rest. Exercise. Eating well. Spending evenings with friends and those I love. Reading good books and trashy ones, too. Living life well means being a human being, not a human doing.

Is it time for you to step out of the shower of stress, too?

Tractors, Not Tanks

What a gorgeous day to celebrate Independence Day!

In Grinnell, one can walk through the neighborhoods and know where the parade route is by the lining up of lawn chairs mid-afternoon. Where parties and gatherings welcome passersby with cold drinks, watermelon, and even live jazz in the backyard.

Walking down Broad street, I can "hear" my destination with music on the deck from The Funk Upstairs, a solo sax supported by a combo of drums, bass, rhythm, and keyboard.

It's so Grinnell.

In Iowa, we don't show our independence with a parade of tanks, artillery, and soldiers passing by. It's grannies in flat bed trailers and old boys from the VFW. It's golf carts and vintage cars festooned with red, white, and blue. And the closest thing to armed soldiers are cub scouts with water pistols.

Instead of tanks, we show off the equipment that feeds the world. Tractors both antique and those so new they haven't seen any black Iowa dirt on their tires.

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism."  - Erma Bombeck

Avion de Papel

My view this morning is from my friends' condo on the third floor with a view of the hills northeast of Castro Valley, CA.

We planned our trip around yesterday's comida at Eden UCC. One of my chosen sisters is the pastor at Eden and twice monthly, their congregation distributes food to the neighbors in need. They have things for children to do and the adults have an opportunity to visit with each other. It's a neighborhood event that brings residents together. 

John and Em had fun. They pitched in to help where they could and participated in a music class with the kids from the neighborhood too. Em played ball with the boys who were there with their mothers.

I sat at a table with paper, crayons, markers, and coloring pages. Children came to the table and checked me over. They saw that I was kind of a cool adult because I was coloring, too. It didn't take long for them to warm up and talk with me. The preschoolers wanted to impress me that they knew their colors in English - "yellow", "pink", "purple", their English better than my Spanish.

I'm not sure what made me think of it, but I made a paper airplane for one of the boys. He was so excited. He'd throw it and it would come undone. He'd run back to me and say, "No fly!" I'd fix it and he'd continue. We did this for about a half hour. As the other children saw his paper airplane, they would come to me with the page they had colored, hand it to me and I would make an airplane for them. 

A little girl - close to three years, I would guess, brought me a sheet of paper to have an airplane like the boys did. I made it, she ran to show her mother, and then ran back to me. I knelt down to her and she kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Gracias." For those of you who know me well, you know the Herculean effort it took for me not to be a blubbering gob of goo at that lovely gesture. 

Seeing 60 families with a group of kids with them collecting food for the week, puts life into perspective. On Monday, our wallets were stolen out of the car where we were parked at a tourist destination. I am temporarily without access to my assets, to my identification, and for me that's just a pain in the behind. I'm not wondering how I am going to feed my family. 

I bonded with a mother who had two little ones. Her older child was simply too cute for words. He was tired and fussy. I came over and brought him paper and two markers and began to draw simple pictures. I drew a house.  "Casa," his mother said. "Gato," his mother said. He giggled and his big black eyes disappeared with his broad smile. He got fussy again and I made him a paper airplane. "Avion," his mother said. "Airplane," I said, and he ran to play with the other boys. 

John said that he was talking to a group of boys. They all saw him as the cool teenager paying attention to them. "I'm from Iowa," he said.

"Can you take the BART there?" asked one of the boys. (Bay Area Rapid Transit)

"Not exactly," John said. "But I did take the BART to come to see you." 

"It is not our differences that divides us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences." - Audre Lorde, Poet

The Scent of Coffee and Coppertone

Today's view of the porch is the San Francisco Bay.

Slathered with Coppertone, I walked up and down the parking lot of the hotel looking out at the water and vacation dug a little deeper into my state of mind.

As a parent, it's an extraordinary thing to experience things through your child's eyes. Yesterday, as my daughter took her first plane ride, that she remembers, it was a real kick to see that exhilaration in her, which in turn, had the same effect on me. Perhaps that's why I seem to be just about the giddiest one of the bunch here. The awe of seeing the clouds from the top down for the first time is pretty amazing.

It didn't surprise me that my 15 year old son would be shepherding his girls, young and old, checking the arrival and departures board and hoisting suitcases off the carousel. My 12 year old girl goes between teenager and a cranky little girl when hungry. Our grandma and I are taking it all in through them and giggling more than anything else. Tea time at the Denver airport was a lovely layover break.

In a few hours, we'll meet up with my first college roommate, Barbara. Fate brought us together in 1214 Quadrangle, University of Iowa, 31 years ago. When we've seen each other, it's been in Iowa City at Homecoming. I know that this is the first time, of more, that I will visit them.

In a couple of days, we'll head to the east bay and join my longtime heart sibs for what is also my first visit to them as well.

It's all good.