I Am Mine

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The ocean is full 'cause everyone's crying
The full moon is looking for friends at high tide
The sorrow grows bigger when the sorrow's denied
I only know my mind
I am mine

--Pearl Jam

There are things you hear.  They sound great, but maybe you dismiss them.  I’ve heard repetitive messages for a while now. Things have come to me as whispers or through having my ass hit pavement.  It's like the universe tries to be a gentle, friendly advisor at first, but eventually realizes it needs to turn into an asshole tough love counselor.  We’ve all been told certain truths and, while we may absentmindedly agree with them and believe that they’re more than likely accurate… sometimes it just feels like a nice thought, such as “carpe diem.” Sometimes I can’t “carpe diem” because I didn’t get enough sleep to call myself cognizant, let alone thriving and ready to seize the day. I know there will be no seizing on this day!  Sometimes I just feel drained and I know it’s not going to be my best day. In theory, I agree with many of the positive ideologies as to how to live a good life. But there’s one I didn’t consider because I was sort of numb to it. I didn’t want to think too much about it.

Love yourself first.

This is the one. I’d heard it. I’ve read it in several books, heard it from healers, heard it in therapy, I’ve always accepted that it’s a truth. Yeah, that's pretty obvious.   I’ve even recommended it to others when they would ask my advice on a topic. I could easily recognize when someone didn’t have self-respect or love for themselves. But I didn’t give it much thought for me. I assumed I was okay with myself, so everything was fiiiine. What does it mean to love yourself anyway? I mean… really…

It almost seemed like self-love was some nebulous idea floating in outer space. Or something everyone had heard about and waited in line for and I was juuuust short and they’d run out by the time I got to the counter. And so I had to walk away and say, "It's cool, my bad for not getting here sooner.  Maybe some other time..." 

But it’s not that at all. 

And it doesn’t mean pinning a fake smile to our faces or pretending to be happy when we feel like shit. It’s very real. Loving ourselves can be the subtlest, simplest, most honest thing in the world. Often, it’s just a whisper—a raw whisper we fail to hear in the blazing blur of our busy lives. It’s that persistent, little whisper begging us to pause, to slow down—to slow way down—and take care of ourselves. It’s the deep breath we remember to take when we’re overwhelmed and the world seems to be spinning beneath our shaky feet. It’s the time we allow ourselves to cry. It’s the rage we allow ourselves to feel. It’s the loneliness we finally face. It’s the nourishing meal we cook for ourselves.

I’ve often thought, and this is common with women, that I’m a giver and that’s where I thrive. I could give everything to another person and it allowed me to escape the reality of my own life. When I was married, I became consumed with how he felt. It certainly wasn't reciprocated.  I think I’ve been consumed in many relationships actually, but I didn’t consider it negatively if the relationship was a healthy one. But it is. And now that I’ve had time away from relationships and have focused so much on myself I see things in a way I never have.  I've observed things.  I've seen people go from relationship to relationship with lightening quick speed and I think there’s no way they’ve even processed what they just went through. A good friend of mine has pretty openly said that she would stay in an unhealthy relationship and just wait for someone else to come along and then she’d jump into that relationship. That way... she'd never have to be alone. Because being alone is bad, bad, BAD.  

Or...

Stay with me for this radical suggestion... Is it a time to reflect? A time to grow? A time to learn? A time to focus on the self? A time to become who you’ve always wanted to be? Being alone isn’t a bad thing, but what you do with that time is up to you.

I understand why the aforementioned friend, and several others I know, fall into this pattern. It’s because we want something from that person. Sometimes desperately.  Whatever positive things we felt with him/her is what we’re really afraid to lose.  You felt: sexy, intelligent, irresistible, funny, interesting, alive, creative, loved, etc… and now there’s a void. What I learned from a spiritual healer I met is that those qualities we felt with another person are available when they’re gone as well. In fact, they were always there and that person just showed you they were present.  We can’t expect someone to show us our greatness. We’re supposed to know it and then willingly share it with those worthy of that. Loving yourself isn’t narcissistic. I just think it’s part of how we were meant to live, a very important part, but as I said before, I think it gets lost as chinks of ourselves get damaged and it changes our brains and our hearts.

One thing I’ve done lately… after listening to a podcast with Danielle Laporte... is to consider what she refers to as "core desired feelings."  And to not go about it in a superficial way.  To really consider what the feeling beneath the goal is. For example, instead of saying, “I want to be successful” consider what feelings are deeper within that desire for "success." Is it respect? Love? For me, love is definitely one of my core desired feelings. The difference in that I previously interacted with the world thinking, “Okay, I want love. Need a relationship so I can fully be the loving person I am.” Thinking from a self-love perspective and from what Laporte says, it’s about getting clear about your core desired feelings, NOT about setting up the world to help you feel the way you want to feel. It’s not about you wanting to feel loved or respected, but about us creating those intentions into reality. Not manifesting, but intentionally creating the things we want.

If I’m waiting around for someone to help me feel love or respect or joy or feminine or sexy or interesting, then I’m putting my happiness and desires in others' hands and relying upon them to make me feel that way. It makes so much sense to me now how that's a recipe for failure.  None of us can choose what happens to us, but just how we feel about it. 

Soooo... how can I bring love to the party? I can put out love.  I can BE love.  Same with each goal.  I can give respect, I can put out creativity, I can be free. Her idea is a brand new way to think about goal achievement.  And it works for me.  Make your own rules. Set 'em up. Pause and notice the beauty of your life, then experience respect for your life. Same with love.

My soul has to match my goals. It has to work in the kitchen, the bedroom, and my heart. I’ve been thinking about what I need to do to create the feelings and life I want. And I’m much more conscious of my actions and thoughts and whether they're supporting or inhibiting what I want.  Verrry aware when I'm not in alignment with my goals. They need to guide everything from what I eat to how I love.

Sometimes when I get in that monkey mind, it’s been as simple as reminding myself of my goals that snaps me out of it. Let’s say I’m feeling angry… I can ask myself what I can do right now to switch from anger to feeling love? How can I get that peaceful feeling at this time?

Lastly, I can say I realize the most important relationship I, or you, will ever have is the one with ourselves.  We'll never find a mind-reader who can guess exactly what we need and give it to us, even if they wish they could. It means getting to know yourself, the gifts and desires that are uniquely yours, and choosing to take care of yourself like a mom takes care of her young children. I realize how cheesy this sounds--I hear it too-- but fuck it, it’s true.
 

Loneliness comes.  And having a person to share life with is a great thing.  It's just not vital.  And the other person in whatever relationship (family member, friend or lover) needs to feel free. We are not a half that needs another half to be complete, we already are complete. How often do we see someone on facebook, posting photos of themselves with their significant other saying things that are meant to sound romantic like, “I don’t know how I’d exist without you” or “I’d be nothing without you” or "You're my everything."  I inwardly cringe whenever I read something like that. Every relationship has give-and-take and sacrifice but it should never cause us to lose ourselves, to give everything in order to earn the love of another. A person who is afraid of abandonment, eventually turns relationships into a negative, self-fulfilling prophecy.

Learning to love myself? It was not one choice at all. It's a series of choices each day.  And forgiving  myself when I've acted outside of who I want to be.  It’s also very real. And it is always available for the taking. Right here and now. In the present moment. It’s always a perfect time to start loving exactly who you are. 

Writing a book sounds much more glamorous than it is.  Perhaps you read books like Cheryl Strayed’s Wild and start to think you need to come up with a new hobby because howisitevenpossible to write like that.  It’s annoying.  Unfair… And really—how dare she?

Sigh…despite my disgust, I love Wild.  It's a nosedive into issues like guilt, shame, fear, courage, resilience, willpower, love, violence, and pretty much any other interesting human emotion/experience is in there.  All of these feelings are wrapped around her decision to hike 1,100 miles along the Pacific Coast Trail.  A solo journey from someone who, as her ex-husband pointed out when she explained what she was doing, “But… you don’t hike...”  

Meh, she did it anyway.

Don’t get too precious about your creativity.  People extoll their virtue as an “artist” and it’s great to have pride in what you do and to cultivate your talent and skills.  Certainly the world will benefit from this.   I’ve heard it said that we’re all artists and I agree with that. 

And we’re all just borrowing each other’s good ideas.   

Whatever your creative inspiration is… it’s probably been done.  This isn’t said with the intention to burst anyone’s bubble.  Quite the contrary.  The idea hasn’t been done by you.  That’s what matters.  Did Shakespeare steal some of his ideas from other stories?  Yes.  Do people steal from his stories today?  Absolutely!  But that’s okay because when he told them in his own way, in his own style, they became something new.  

The important thing is to practice your craft, whatever it is.  See it through.  Being a finisher is better than being a perfectionist.  A perfectionist will never present a product because it will never be perfect.  Brene Brown describes perfectionists as hustlers: the perfectionist is always hustling for perfection, something above criticism.  Nothing’s above criticism, even mangoes, chocolate, Robert Downey Jr, Wild, elephants, yoga, sleeping in, massages, and other fantastic things.  There will always be some asshole telling you that yoga causes cancer.  Or something.  The thing is I know a lot of people who talk about the cool, exciting things they want to be doing or that they’d do if only _____________ (fill in the blank with some fear-based reason here).

I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me.

                                                                                                         -Cheryl Strayed, Wild

Quick sidenote: I suppose it could be termed as a "pet peeve" of mine when people claim to be a thing without actually doing the thing.  How many of us know “nice” people?  

Why wouldn't  someone want to date me, I’m a nice person?

 —Are you?  What have you done lately that’s nice?  Are you actively doing nice things or just saying you’re nice by nature?  I think it’s generally the latter-- 

I would love to take yoga, but I probably wouldn’t be good at it

I’m a writer, but actually I don’t write much more than a weekly grocery list

I wish I was in taking college classes too, but....

--are just a few of the wishing versus doing statements I've been witness to.  So, I say this with all my heart: do it.  Just do it.  I guess Nike said that first.  Try a yoga class if you have any little bit of curiosity about it, start putting the pen to paper if you enjoy writing, and, hey, go ahead and sign up for a class or to learn a new skill.  Put more skills on your life’s resume than personal qualities and adjectives.   

I’m not putting any pressure on myself to write the world’s greatest novel or to sit down with the weight of “Great… guess it’s up to me to help mankind and change some shit…”  I think that’s a wee bit heavy and a helluvalot of pressure.  Not to mention that if the fate of mankind were in my hands alone... well, just be frightened.  Sooo, it has to be fun.  And it has to not be forced.  I have no expectations.  Only some hope.  I want to give it to my son one day.  I know that.  Hopefully it will  show him I tried.  That I went from being a bit of a lost, aimlessly wandering soul to one that feels some purpose, some peace and a lot of passion.  One that still wanders and dreams and gets caught up in the stars, but the wandering isn’t painful.  It’s exciting and with a feeling of connectedness, which is still new to me.

I've been writing a little bit every day.  Working on the book and mulling over ideas and  plans to create a new blog.  I’ve been learning about how to actually create a product which I'm pretty excited about.  It combines several of my passions in one idea.  More on that to come.  

Stardust n' stuff

I recently read a quote… on facebook… so what if it was on facebook?  I read important things too!…  ANYWAY it was this:

Okay… go ahead and blow my mind, Mr. Twain.

Some things hit you and I’ve come to realize when something resonates right through me that it’s with good reason.  So now I find myself a tad bit obsessed with this idea.  And I'm curious...

Why were you born?  What is your unique purpose?  What makes you you and what is all this beautiful, amazing YOUNESS meant to do while you're here?

Let's pretend you're here right now, sitting across from me on a...bean bag chair... because I like my friends to be comfy while engaging in serious conversation.

So here we are, all relaxed and chillin' like we do, glowing in each other's presence when I hit you with the question:

Why were you born?

You pause, mid-glow, and shift a bit atop all those beans.  Your mouth opens slightly, draws breath.  The words, the truth, your truth, is building.  You're gathering it to you, grabbing hold, molding it, looking for a way to form it into human words that will express what is resonating deep down at your core.  I anxiously await.  I just love truth.

I feel like there are three potential answers to this very big question and I'm wondering which is yours.

1- You could quote Kilgore Trout:  "All persons, living and dead, are purely coincidental."  Hmmm… very well… I can neither prove, nor disprove, your theory because the knowledge that we are divinely designed simply can't be manufactured.  It comes from within.  Call it faith, call it the Universe, call it delusion - I like to think of it as a gut or connectedness.  Gut tells us what to believe and what to dismiss.  It helps to instruct our choices, fuels our actions, pulls us in one direction instead of another and manifests truth or falsehood to our souls as we encounter the many philosophies of life.  Gut is all we've really got to go on and mine says that we (you, I, everyone) are no happy accident.  We are made of stardust and born with a purpose.  I believe we are who we are and where we are for a reason.  I haven't always believed this.  I didn’t believe it even 5 years ago, but, I’ve learned a lot since then.  So if you don't feel this, I deeply understand.  I love you for being skeptical and logical and distrustful and strong.  A little yoga here, but the light in me honors the light in you and I hope that you find joy and meaning, no matter your path.  I would love to hear more.  Teach me.

2-You might choose to plainly answer this big question with, "To be tested, grow and progress, and eventually go back to God or become part of the universe or be reincarnated or whatnot."  And I'm with you there too. I am.  That's it in a nutshell, isn't it?  But then I wonder...why is my test different from yours?  Why is my path different from yours? What happens if I don't progress as much as someone else?  And why do we all seem to be at different stages in spiritual progression to begin with?  Why would we be made so very uniquely and placed here in such unequal circumstances?  Are there specific things that I, me only, am supposed to learn and if so, why?

Aaaand now your head hurts.  I've dragged you down the rabbit hole without permission.  You're curled up tight on your bean bag chair - furrowed brows, crossed arms, not looking the slightest bit comfortable.  I apologize.  And yet... I'd just love to hear your thoughts on these questions.  

3 - You stay silent for a long time before speaking.  When you do, a million lovely words pour forth - words full of passion and purpose - words that describe a road unlike any other.  Maybe you know where it leads, maybe you're unsure, but it belongs to you and only you and you're bravely striking out on it.  Sometimes you're even cutting the path - clearing debris laid by others, cleaning up self-made messes, leaving markers as reminders of where you've been and how far you've come.  Some areas slope upward - a trail of drawn blood and spilled tears speckling the way to the summit.  Some areas slope down - an easy route at first but may prove difficult to abandon if your speed gets out of control.  Along its cracks and bends you've found love, loss, growth, pain, healing and so much more.  You've found you.

No matter what your path looks like, it is supremely unique and belongs only to you.  And it has a purpose. 

 

Why were you born?  Why were you given your talents, your challenges, your stories, your path?  What are you meant to be and to do while you're here?

We sit in our bean bags and ponder in silence.  These big questions have big answers that dare us to dream big, fall short, be courageous, vulnerable, and strong.  They demand that we make the most of our days and help others do the same.  They thrust us forward into uncharted territory.  They change and challenge us.  They are that which we are meant for.

I know so little, so very, very little, but I know one thing for sure.  I was meant to ponder this. 

Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind

There I was. 

Innocently arriving at my former mother in law’s home to pick up my bundle of Finn.

No way of knowing what was about to transpire.

No way at all.

Yes this buildup is intentionally annoying.

I’m used to doing the "knock-twice-and-enter-the-premises" routine at her home.  There are two kind, sweet, salt of the earth women living there and both of them are deaf as posts (whatever that means).  And trusting.  They don’t lock the door.  Ever.  Rather than ringing the doorbell and hoping to be heard above the din of the television turned up to inconceivable volumes, I’ve become bold enough to just enter.  Social niceties be damned.  

This day no one was home.  No one except my niece (or former niece, I suppose).  She’s 17. She hasn’t had an easy life and the last few years have been exceptionally difficult for her.  I won’t go into specifics, but I’ve been filled in on the goings on in her life and I know she’s always been a sensitive girl.  She feels things very deeply, so I was never shocked to hear that she wasn’t feeling like she could cope anymore and was giving up on certain things, like school.  I tend to gravitate toward people who are sensitive or deeply empathetic.  I always liked her, but I haven’t really been in her life for the last 5 years, beyond the occasional small talk (of which I’m NOT a fan).  

Let’s move on to this day.  I bust through the door, as I’ve become accustomed to doing, and there she is… sitting on the couch… she jumps a little, startled and scared at the incoming intruder.

 

“Ahhh, hello there.  Sorry, if I scared you.  They never hear me ring the doorbell…” 

She laughs.  “Oh, that’s okay.  Grandma took him with her to get her prescription.  They should be back in a minute.”

“Okay.  Not a problem.”  I sit down on the couch as well and awkward silence commences.

I happened to notice what she was wearing.  Oversized, flannel Star Wars pajama pants and a hoodie more suitable for a woman near the end of her pregnancy.  I’m familiar with the outfit.  It’s the “I have to be out in the world, but I really just want to cocoon myself and be as invisible as possible” look.

I don’t know why.  Why on earth I decided that today was the day I was going to breach a conversation with her, but I can say that I felt it was important for me to try.  If she seemed completely shut down I wasn’t going to push it, but I just thought I should try.  I know the feeling when everyone seems to want to give you space to feel miserable, but that often just increases and exacerbates the miserable feelings by having it seem like no one actually cares that you're feeling miserable. 

“Sooo, what’s new?  Things okay?” It seemed innocent enough. 

At first she lightly laughed off the question and said she was okay.  But it seemed like she was also willing to open up with just a little eye contact and a willing ear.  I told her I was there.  She could talk to me if she would like to.  The gist of what eventually came out was that she didn’t know why.  Why must life be so hard?  And why was it that right when you just about pick yourself up off the ground and brush yourself off, you’re knocked on your ass again?!

Gulp.  

Well, yeah.  Good question.

I've formed a little theory in the last few years, related to a film we all know and felt it may be appropriate-ish here to lighten the mood, but still make a point.  So, I asked if she was a fan of Star Wars or if she just thought the pants were comfy.

Eyebrows raise, wondering why she just confided to a person asking about her pants after opening up the fact that she was not happy.  But she politely answered, “Yeah, I'm a nerd.  I love it.”

“Okay, good!  Then you’re familiar with The Empire Strikes Back?”

“Yeahhh, but that one’s not as good as the others.”

  

I noticed at one point, and it remains true to this day, that whenever I’ve asked someone what their favorite Star Wars movie is they invariably answer A New Hope or Return of the Jedi.  So, her answer came as no surprise and is typical of many trilogies.  The beginning is full of new people, new places, plots, excitement, hustle, bustle and all sorts of hijinks.  The ending, obviously, brings resolution to six-plus hours of epic struggle, villains are vanquished, heroes are heralded, cue triumphant music, celebratory merriment and the gratuitous slapping of backs.  

OF COURSE PEOPLE LIKE IT.

I’ll admit I wasn’t always a Star Wars fan.  Growing up, I didn’t fully appreciate or understand what was being accomplished with those movies.  It wasn’t until Finn became fascinated with the movies around 2 years old to the present time that I went from a cringing, begrudging viewing to one of admiration, respect and understanding.  

  

But the true genius and vital key to the success of the entire Star Wars industry, in fact, lies very humbly hidden in the middle.  The real reason we love Luke and Leia, Han and Chewy, Obi Wan, Yoda, Boba Fett, and even Jabba, is the all-so-important yet wildly under-appreciated

Empire Strikes Back.  Because it is there, in the in-between-ness, that the magic happens.  In the mist and muck of Dagobah, on the disturbingly rickety catwalks of a Cloud City air shaft, and hanging out in the middle of nowhere with a bleeding arm stump, THERE is where Luke endures the soul-stretching trials that will transform him from whiney teenager to Jedi. Je-di.  Freaking Jedi. 

  All those heart-warming triumphs in Return Of The Jedi  would be impossible without The Empire Strikes Back. Could Luke have resisted the temptation of the dark side without first facing his worst fears in that freakish cave Yoda sent him into?  Hell no.  Would he have had the courage to march into Jabba's palace and make all those ballsy threats if he hadn't fought Vader, lost, flung himself down that airshaft and lived to tell about it?  Again--hell no!  Would Luke possess the compassion to save his father, the worst guy in the known universe (who blew up entire planets just to watch Leia break a sweat), if he hadn't gone through the character building process of accepting who he truly was and contemplating the profound power of the force?  Hellllllll no!

 Watch A New Hope and try to say that Luke simply woke up one morning and was like "I think I'll stop throwing tantrums about power converters and save the galaxy, as well as my evil father's soul, cuzzzz I'm feeling quite a bit more noble than I was yesterday."  Nope.  That's not how it works.  Luke had to endure blood, sweat, and tears, have a hand chopped off, cling to an antenna for dear life and carry a muppet around on his back while stomping through swamps and levitating shit.   He had to come to terms with the fact that he'd kissed his sister and his dad was trying to kill him.  He had to slog through all of that and a whole lot more before he got his due.  The resolution, the joyous, badass, high-fiving resolution to it all came only because he slogged first.  It is the slogging that made the finish line both possible and a true triumph.  It's the gut-wrenching awful middle that made the ending so damn good!

"And so," I say to the sweet girl next to me "you are in the middle.  The slogging.  The hard work.  The cave. The trials. The character building.  The muppet on your back.  The soul-searching.  You’re in The Empire Strikes Back right now."

"You’re Luke!  And you've got all this amazingness inside you just dying to come forth.  You know it and I know it.  It’s just not going to start oozing from your pores while you binge watch TV in your pajamas.   Or consume massive amounts of ice cream.  You have to go through your own Empire Strikes Back first.  Blood, sweat, tears.  You have to lose your hand—your freaking hand!—and maybe even your mind for a bit.  You have to suffer."

"Your Return of The Jedi is on it's way, no doubt about it.” 

"You are Luke…buuut you're in Empire Strikes Back, and nobody likes the middle as much as they like the beginning or the ending.  That's human nature.  But the middle is what brings about the really good stuff so you need to hang in.  Fight.  Dig deep.  You know...use the force."

Thus ended my strange talk with her.  This is why I love the Star Wars movies.  They’re so oddly relatable.  And I wish I could sit at Yoda’s feet and learn from him.  Alas… I cannot, but at least I have learned a lesson from these movies.  And I guess I offer the lesson freely:   

The. Empire. Strikes. Back.  Most of us are Luke in one of the movies.  We long to be in Return of the Jedi.  Don't write yourself off yet.  You are Jedi.  Hang in.