October 2020

The High Road Is Paved With Rewards

Leave a Comment / Courage, Personal Growth, Relationships / By / November 5, 2020

I’ve been taking the high road for a really long time, largely for my survival and I have learned to love the view from here. It’s a stark contrast to the view from the low road and I know that because I’ve been on both. Problem with the low road is that you’re always meeting someone at a level that is less than desirable, that lacks integrity and just simply doesn’t feel good. We often take the low road because we’re hurt, angry or offended and we feel like the best way to fight back is to dig our heels in, sadly not even recognizing where we land. Smack dab in the middle of an overpopulated traffic jam of ass-holery. There is no shortage of people needing to feel right or prove their point. We’re human and we don’t like feeling attacked so our initial response in any given aggressive situation can be a knee jerk emotional one that leads us to make thoughtless choices with unfortunate outcomes.  

I was reminded of this the other day when we had a slight altercation with one of our neighbors over guest parking. So. Stupid. Guest parking is open to everyone and we have been using it for Tommy’s work van and our neighbor decided to get snippy about it. She did not do the polite thing and come speak to me, instead she went to the HOA board, then put a note in our door and it just became this whole unnecessary, lengthy thing. She claims it was because Tommy’s work van was parked too close to her kitchen window and she’s worried about Covid (although why then would she come up on our porch and touch our screen door is beyond me…but I digress). If that’s true she’s entitled to her fears about Covid, although overreacting in my opinion, and if that’s not true then she’s just being disagreeable and territorial. Either way she has no right to ask us to move the van because that is common shared space, open to everyone. This went on for over a week and the energy was unpleasant. Tommy and I discussed it and while we both acknowledged that he had done nothing wrong I ultimately asked him to move the van. Because we have the extra space and additional guest parking. Also, we can afford to give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s not the first and will not be the last encounter I have with someone bitchy, and let’s get real, none of us like those experiences. What I like even less though is stooping to someone else’s poor behavior because it leads to an unhealthy pattern, ultimately determining who I am as a person. My response is my responsibility. I believe in The Law of Attraction and the power of vibrations and I cannot sustain those high positive energy flows if I am focused on something that is stealing my joy. I prefer the kinder, softer feeling I get when I make the decision to do the thing that aligns with my values and desire for peace. So when I’m faced with any situation that requires me to choose I try to step away from being reactive and lean heavily into my own truth and integrity, shifting my perspective from there. It’s a matter of taking the other person and emotion out of the equation and recognizing what is the most right thing I can do. This is not about me trying to be a pleaser, a peacemaker or a doormat. This is for my well-being. Period. What does it cost me to take the high road? It may hurt my pride, it may make me feel like they’ve won something they didn’t deserve, but at the end of the day who really cares? What…they win because they got to tell us what to do? No. We win because we didn’t continue to carry around useless baggage or start a war over an insignificant battle. 

I have faced many opportunities in my life where I have had to make tough decisions about my reaction against some pretty horrible people. I have been abused by depraved men and women, been taken advantage of by family who I thought I could trust and none of it, none of it, warranted anything less than my best self. It doesn’t mean it was easy or I gave them a free pass to walk on me. It does mean that every resolution I make comes from the truth of who I am, not a response to someone else’s idea of who I am. A few times when I have held fast to my anger or pride, yes, there was a temporary feeling of victory but it was short-lived and it felt ugly. This isn’t news to anyone but forgiveness is usually for us not for the other person, and choosing to do the right thing, which is subjective, is seldom recognized by the other person either. Our good deeds and positive attitude toward a sticky situation are not reflective of how we’ve been hurt but the idea that we recognize our power in navigating our circumstances. Ultimately it is for us and what will diminish or enhance our life. 

I remember very consciously after my first divorce choosing to take the high road. Let me tell you, it was fiercely arduous. I had every reason to be a bitter, angry ex, share my side of the truth of our breakup, jump in and out of court and seek vengeance as I was torn apart financially, lied about and mistreated by him, my reputation being destroyed as he turned his family against me, the only real family I had known for 20 years. I was alone, broke, terrified and could see that my daughters were already suffering from the fallout. I could not feed that. Sadly, no amount of retribution on my part would have made any of that go away. I would have only added to a shitstorm that was already brewing and all I would have done was end up stinking. I held my ground and my emotional parameters as I refused to crawl down to his despicable level, a decision I have never regretted. It didn’t change him, but it changed me. I had one job after my divorce and that was to be an example to my children. I needed all my energy for raising healthy daughters with love, balance and appropriate boundaries and that left no room for hateful indignation. I simply could not do what was needed if I was focused on anger or blame. I had a very defining moment one morning that I will never forget. Everything was crashing down around me, I was facing uncertainty, swirling with emotions and had just been diagnosed and had surgery for malignant melanoma. I caught my reflection in the mirror and I knew in that moment I had to determine who I would be. I told myself that I wanted to be able to see my face in a year and recognize who I was. That single decision propelled me forward and even though people told me I was being too nice I was committed to live in my truth and follow what I knew was best for me and my girls. I saw way too many of my friends get caught up in the whole divorce drama thing, the endless court battles, the fighting and name calling and I just couldn’t invite that into my life when I needed to move on. That grudge holding stuff keeps you stuck. 

The high road is a matter of strength and personal discipline, the art of learning to choose to act with intention instead of react with emotion. The high road is available for circumstances both small and brutally damaging. It offers you the scope of the big picture and reminds you how very insignificant most of our squabbles are. It’s not always popular and in a society where getting one up on somebody is the norm and being a hater is acceptable, choosing something more admirable can be challenging, but wow, it is so rewarding. You’ve gotta release the whole ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ thing and hold fast to the idea that with every decision you make regarding another human you are becoming more or less of who you want to be. We are always becoming something. Taking the high road, like having integrity or a strong work ethic when no one is watching, is a beautiful, fortifying character trait and something we can learn to do with practice. The vistas are incredible and the road is paved with contentment and serenity. I promise.

What Resistance Taught Me

4 Comments / Coping, Personal Growth, Relationships / By / October 29, 2020

There are times when we feel the effects of life’s challenges all at once, as negative circumstances twist, tangle and pile on each other, wrapping around us like an angry wind storm. It can seem overwhelming as it pulls us in, leaving us off balance. I have been hit hard recently by personal and professional situations that have left me seeking the most effective ways to navigate the next month as I pour myself into commitments that must be honored. I’m exhausted, in a great deal of pain and have very limited energy, so my resolve toward self care is vital, and how I get there will determine my well being. With an unhealthy combination of things going on around me that I could not control, I found myself struggling with my next decision, feeling annoying urgency to DO something and being constantly met by my own resistance. Everything was swirling and uncertain. In my experience, resistance means there is something I need to know and that requires my attention. In this instance it was asking me to look for more peaceful solutions than unraveling under the weight of the stress. 

In a moment of insight that took me back to something I learned a long time ago I made an intentional decision. I took a breath, released any attachment to a particular outcome and just stopped. And in stopping I surrendered. To the truth of what I could do and what I could not. To the power of what energy I would give or receive. To the emotional boundaries I would honor for myself. I chose to be in the moment of Now, which is something I always strive for but this time did with more devotion. 

Resistance by its very nature is only met with more force. Neither society, nor our often dysfunctional upbringing has equipped us well to cope with the onslaught of challenges we often face disproportionately or the negative feelings that grow from uncomfortable emotions, and it makes sense that resistance is the first place we go. We think if we push against these unwanted things we can move to the other side of it and feel better. But in doing so we end up inviting more of what we don’t want. If we could learn to remain curious we could discover more of how we respond to life and how those responses serve us. None of us like the byproduct of pain, stress, sadness, anger, fear, loss or loneliness, yet those feelings are there for our benefit just as much as any other thing we experience. For me, the only effective way to shift from resistance to complete surrender and navigate my difficult situation was to lean into what was given me, detach from and release the outcome, allow the organic ebb and flow and focus only on the things that I could change or contribute to. It’s scary because we are giving up a form of control, which we never actually had anyway, but tend to find a sense of comfort in. Through that vulnerability we create intimacy with ourselves. 

I had a friend tell me a few months ago that if she stopped working so hard to hold onto her relationship she felt that it would fail and her partner would easily walk away. I could feel that because I’ve been there. I totally understand the fear behind what she was saying and why she would want so desperately to keep trying. She is simultaneously experiencing the deep attachment of love as well as the fear of being alone and her instinct is to hold on and fight. The universal truth of resistance is a life truth, one that ripples into all of our interactions and relationships with other humans and circumstances, coming at us in full force during fight or flight mode. At some point we must determine that there are things that require our letting go and we will only recognize that by relinquishing control and sitting with the silence of our own being. 

Surrendering or detaching from the outcome is not about having negative expectations, but an important process of learning to see things for what they are. It is the art of noticing what the person, situation, or experience offers us, without prodding, pushing, or forcing anything. What is left standing after that is what is meant for us.

When I let go, what was really incredible was this new sense of awareness that became me. I could feel unpleasant things, without emotion or judgement, just acknowledgement. Without the lure of fixing it, saving anyone, talking about it, feeling a need to explain anything, or even be understood. There was just this perfect stillness. No matter how difficult or stressful things became I was able to know exactly what I needed in each given moment and none of it required a decision from me. It nurtured me instead of diminishing me emotionally. There was a recognition in me of things that were reciprocal and things that were not and sweet clarity that spilled into every part of my day. I didn’t react or fret because I wasn’t waiting for some outcome that I knew I couldn’t change anyway. I’m doing this imperfectly, as I do everything, and it takes practice but it has been my lifesaver over the last few weeks to have this emotional consistency, this stability of allowing what is and not worrying about what isn’t. 

The outcome has been no angst, anxiety, fear. Just peace. The only thing I am in control of is how I respond to any given situation. Ever. 

If life is overwhelming right now and there are too many things happening for you maybe it’s time to step back, take inventory of what you can change, what you cannot and make a decision to release everything else. When you notice your resistance to letting go ask yourself this….

What is the fear behind the feeling or emotion? What would happen if you did nothing? Would something you care about run its course and would that be the worst thing in the world? How much could your life improve if you released outcomes that didn’t belong to you? 

Resistance is a powerful tool for self discovery, a wall which when pushed through reveals us, creating space for a more peaceful existence.

Our Collective Grief

1 Comment / Coping, Courage, Personal Growth / By / October 9, 2020

Somewhere between the uncertainty and the coming to terms, there stirs in us a deep abiding mourning. We are a world engulfed in a perpetual state of grief. On a very palpable level our souls are exposed, vulnerable, with nothing but our internal compass to guide us, and that feels broken, off course. We are unmoored, drifting, at times quietly languishing, or simply watching the horizon, and then without warning being jarred about by angry, raging waves. 

Global Pandemic. A shot heard round the world. I believe this was the catalyst for the cavernous deprivation we would begin to feel and then internalize, with limited skills to identify the fallout and no place to put all the ensuing emotions. Incomes were ruptured, businesses irrevocably destroyed, massive death tolls mounted, our soul feeding connections were stripped from us and the music was silenced. Life as we knew it was shredded, almost overnight, accompanied by devastating losses, taking huge pieces of us with it. There were lessons in the air. We had been fractured, a house of cards society built on too much consumption, excess and exhaustion, and the universe was desperately trying to help us restore our purer selves. Prior to this, we lived life so quickly and so blissfully detached that we ignored our feelings and the feelings of others. Isolation and fear quickly cast light upon the gaping holes in our societal and economic infrastructures and mostly, our ability to self soothe, to reflect, to sit with our fear and precariousness. 

We couldn’t hear it then but it was beckoning us to look inward, to take stock, to pay attention. To find the gifts in this great pause.

But we didn’t. We slowed down out of necessity, but we didn’t cooperate, we didn’t come together. Not like we needed to. With so much uncertainty guiding us, many of us fell prey to the lure of self. Like a crack of thunder in a stormy sky. 

I think what happened next affirmed that the world was on fire, a second warning at our feet. Civil unrest exploded across our country, an opportunity for awakening in those of us who don’t experience the reality of oppression and had much to learn. Shockingly, or maybe not, our President then lit the match that fueled the fires of racism and anger that burned our cities and our spirits to the ground. This was a devastating and powerful piece of the heartbreak and the mourning as we watched our nation descend into this soulless, empty divide that had existed, but not been so blatantly encouraged. The soothing space between patriotism and homeland disintegrated to ashes, leaving us hopeless, wondering what was next. 

I said from the beginning that this pandemic reveals us. There was a message for every human and we weren’t getting it. Good and decent people held tightly to fear because they had nothing else to cling to amid the unpredictability that polarized them, while others turned their hearts outward, searching for someone to help, for ways to matter. Many people did what was asked of them and many others chose not to and all of it seemed to be a desperate cry to get through something that was not only unprecedented but so unforgiving in its casualties. And every single thing that has come afterwards has been woven into the fiber of who we are as a nation, a nation built on our character. The enemy became us. Our subcultures, our near and dear. Long time friends and families, people we thought we knew who could not only avert their eyes against the storm but refuse to acknowledge that it existed, were unrecognizable to us. All of this came crashing against our already aching, broken hearts. If we thought we were treading water by then, we couldn’t have been more wrong. Our grief continues to evolve, but the biggest by far, that supersedes even all those things we have lost, is what we have yet to lose. It is inescapably uncertain. 

I sat on the porch with a dear friend the other night and we spoke of the losses that have set the patterns of our grief. She represents everyone I know. She has had several moments of emotional lapses and finds herself rising again to get through another day, then wakes to experience deep sadness again, as though her peace and resolve never existed. Unpleasant feelings, especially the ones that come with the five stages of grief, represent a death within themselves. There is not one person I know that has not been affected by some or every part of what this year has presented us with, and for too many of those people there have been dire, permanent losses they may never come back from. Theirs is a very particular form of anguish, a present, painful reminder that we cannot always choose our circumstances, yet must live with the fallout. With the passing of our dreams, the loss of the future we thought we would have, the huge void left by a stagnant, persistent virus that illuminated all the brokenness of our society, all the crevices that we would fall through and never recover from, all the ways that we were different instead of the same, we found a strange sense of oneness. I don’t know many people whose hearts don’t break daily from the relentless storms, with how we have been exposed in all our humanity and all our ugliness. As this current climate angrily simmers, civil unrest continues without justice, and the pandemic lingers, turning time into a slow march, we find ourselves continually being pulled into new realities for what this means in our lives. This grief is not as devastating as the loss of a loved one but it is visceral and actual, and must be respected as such. 

As self-aware and centered as I am, I have found myself drowning in the emotions of this abyss more often than I’d like to count. My body has done the mourning, through physical pain and many days of heartache for the life I created and loved, feeling like a piece of me has been unceremoniously torn away, leaving only a gaping hole. At the same time, I have savored the opportunities that have come with the isolation, have cozied myself into the arms of solitude and discovered that my intuition is more keen than ever. My personal awakening has served to challenge my inner paradigms, and will forever change the way I show up in the world, for which I am thankful. My foray into unfamiliar emotional places and activism has created tumultuous shifts in my relationships that require my willingness to move forward without some of the people that I love the dearest. So I grieve that too. I, like many, have been peeling back layers of thick emotions, some that I’d rather not have it all, only to find myself exhausted yet stronger for it when I come up for air from these powerful currents. I’m not sure how to dive in, immerse myself completely and enjoy the swim, but I know I must if I am to thrive here. So I drink from the reservoirs of my resilience, and strive to hold sacred every part of this process. 

“We used to believe there was solid ground.” 

                                                                       Glennon Doyle

This may all appear to be something we are waiting to get through, but it isn’t. We have been offered a unique opportunity to recreate our own solid ground, to dissect what our values really mean, to reaffirm what we cherish, to question everything we knew until we are unwaveringly confident, within the darkest recesses of our soul, in our truth. We will only be able to do that by looking inward as deeply and fiercely as possible, by loving ourselves through every negative feeling we have and allowing it to make us more intensely rooted in our ability to cope. 

This, in its entirety, is our defining moment. We are being internally transcended. We are becoming. We will not move through this unscathed, and there is no ‘normal’ to return to. What we build, what we tear down, what we fight for, what we stay silent to, is laid bare for everyone to see. It is who we are.

The shock waves of loss are complex and I think it takes our breath away sometimes, the force with which this pulls us in. So we do the best we can. We create little pockets of a familiarity, with virtual celebrations, Zoom calls, intimate gatherings and reaching out in new ways. It is not the same yet it offers us refuge, connection, and desperately needed unity. 

Our collective grief is the unseen veil that shrouds each of us, through every single breath and moment in our lives, yet is so difficult to navigate, because we have never experienced anything like this. As we seek small miracles and simple pleasures to be grateful for, we must first honor what is happening, carve out space and invite the nuances and disquiet of unwanted side effects, listen and lean into them instead of being at constant war with what is a very real part of ourselves.  

Perhaps, we can hold to the belief that there is something bigger than ourselves at play here. That hidden beneath all this anger, loss, sadness and disarming dubiety, there lies something lovely, spiritual and hopeful, and as we unearth, then embrace the meaning, we will surrender to something new, becoming more beautiful, more gracious, more humane, more equipped to compel equality, acceptance and true kindness toward one another, with a newly held and deeper appreciation for those things that align with who we really want to be. 
        If not that, then our grief is in vain.