Yoga Kid, Hearty and Me

My blog ponderings last night were related to "beach" novels and "meditation." Ironic perhaps, that today turned out to be the most beautiful day yet of 2011 so Yoga Kid and I headed for the beach, where we actually meditated, twice. I'm kind of thinking that meditating is something that I should stop reading about, and start doing.

Snippets from our beautiful afternoon:

Me: 
I'm trying to write lighter, happier posts on my blog these days.

Yoga Kid:
It's not working, you better try harder.

Me:
Sometimes I'm funny.

Yoga Kid:
Mostly not.

Me:
Damn.

We walk and talk for about thirty  minutes, then sit down on the rocks by water's edge, where I suggest that we look for heart-shaped rocks and sea glass. 

Me:
Maybe I'll write a book called Heart Shaped Rocks and Sea Glass and it will be about a crazy woman on stress leave who, in her obsessive search for heart shaped rocks and sea glass, finds her self.

Yoga Kid:
Probably not.

Nonetheless, we find ourselves some lovely specimens, including a very small heart shaped rock.

After a spell, we are completely overjoyed when Yoga Kid comes upon a heart shaped green piece of sea glass.

Yoga Kid:
A green heart! Green is the colour of the heart chakra! (Yoga Kid's yoga business is called Anahata Moon Yoga - Anahata is the sanskrit name for heart chakra).

Me:
You should take a really artsy picture.

Yoga Kid:
Let's balance Hearty (the green heart shaped piece of sea glass needed a name, so we gave it one) on a flat rock on a bigger rock right here and I'll snap the picture when the tide washes up towards them.

Half an hour, several wet running shoes later, and a couple of near losses of Hearty out to sea, and Yoga Kid finally captures it.

And from this beautiful afternoon, and this one photo, I realize what mindfulness is truly all about.

Me:
Thanks, Yoga Kid.

Meditating and Beaching It

I need to switch gears, so today I went to our local library to get an armful of books. My harried lifestyle these past months (years) has too often kept me from reading, my absolute favourite pastime. I thought I would pick up a good book or two on stress and burnout, but there weren't any on the shelf. Perplexing, since I searched the catalogue a few days ago and there appeared to be plenty available. I really wish whoever signed them all out, the very best of luck. I thought about taking out something on anxiety or depression, but just the thought of doing that made me anxious.

Not wanting to leave empty handed, I grabbed a book on meditation and a novel. The novel is a "beach book," Jane Green's Dune Road. I mean seriously, if a "beach book" by a New York Times bestselling author can't slow me down and cheer me up, nothing can.

The book on meditation is by Clark Strand, and is called Meditation without Gurus: A Guide to the Heart of Practice. Strand's goal in the book is to simplify meditation. Simple works for me. I especially like his philosophy on meditation, in that he cautions readers against trying to become "expert" at meditation. Not becoming expert at something right now works for me. Says Strand, "Meditation ought to decrease the drivenness of our lives, not make it worse." He goes on to explain:

"The person who meditates—whether for five minutes or five hours a day—wants to keep one area of his or her life that is not driven, that does not draw them ceaselessly away from the fundamental enoughness, sanity, and beauty of the world. The person who truly meditates, and is not caught up in some neurotic game, knows that peace, love, happiness, contentment—everything happens right now." (8-9)

Love it. And I'm going to love the beach book too. Right now.

A Witless Wondering

For as long as I can remember, I have been absent minded. My husband called me the “absent minded professor” years before I became one. Until now, I hadn’t considered “overload" as a viable explanation. Perhaps it isn’t, but wouldn’t that be nice.

This week, I feel as though I’ve misplaced my wit, and I simply can't find it anywhere. On the best of days I struggle to write something uplifting, but I can almost always pull out some mild sarcasm out in an attempt to be humourous. The term “witless wonder” even comes to mind, right now. Not that I believe myself to be some kind of a wonder, but I sure as hell do spend a lot of time wondering.

In my experience, Merriam Webster comes in handy at these times of deep contemplation aligned with writer's block.

wit·less

adj \ˈwit-ləs\

1: destitute of wit or understanding : foolish

2: mentally deranged : crazy <drive one witless with anxiety — William Styron>

    wit·less·ly adverb

    wit·less·ness noun

I think Merriam is onto something. At the moment, I feel remarkably destitute of understanding as I experience intermittent episodes of witless anxiety. On the plus side, I’m trying hard not to feel foolish, and am nowhere near thinking myself mentally deranged. Crazy? Well, perhaps – but only in a good way.

If I really have lost my wit, the odds that I can find it are in my favour. I misplace things all the time, but I have uncanny luck in finding them. Take my car, for instance. I quite regularly lose it in parking lots. Once I lost it at Costco for so long (half an hour) that I actually cried with anxiety and frustration. I convinced myself that it had been stolen. It had not.

I own two watches, because I lose one or both on every given day. I should probably contemplate giving up the wearing of these ever disappearing wrist clocks. Perhaps I would adapt. Neither of our two daughters wear a watch, and they both seem to get by. They are of the cell phone generation, and see no need for ornamental timepieces. Unfortunately, when one has worn a watch on one's left wrist for forty of the past fifty years, one feels naked with it. At least this one does. It’s like when you are wearing your contact lenses, but keep pushing the glasses that you aren’t wearing up on your nose. Something is clearly missing. 

Yesterday was a banner day for watches and me. I couldn’t find either of the two for about ten minutes, then gratefully found the brown leather strapped one. My stress could have been avoided if I had realized that I was already wearing the silver watch. When I pulled off my sweater last night I found both of them, right there keeping time on my wrist. It scared me just a little, but made me laugh a little more.

Overall, I will continue to be hopeful about my odds of recovering the things that I have lost or continue to lose. Maybe this prescribed time off of work to take care of myself will reveal that being on overload adds to or explains my absent-mindedness. Maybe it won’t.

I may not currently have my wit or "my wits" about me." But surely to god they are around here somewhere.

Detachment

I don't always know if I qualify as co-dependent. Well, okay - that's a lie. I don't always care to admit that I most likely probably am. On the days that I think I am or might be, I get a lot out of reading Melody Beattie's writing. She is like the Martha Stewart of self-care and boundary setting. In my humble opinion.

Here's her meditation for today (February 16), entitled "Detachment":

"The concept of letting go can be confusing to many of us. When are we doing too much or trying too hard to control people and outcomes? When are we doing too little? When is what we’re doing an appropriate part of taking care of ourselves? What is our responsibility, and what isn’t?

These issues can challenge us whether we’ve been in recov­ery ten days or ten years. Sometimes, we may let go so much that we neglect responsibility to ourselves or others. Other times, we may cross the line from taking care of ourselves to controlling others and outcomes.

There is no rule book. But we don’t have to make ourselves crazy; we don’t have to be so afraid. We don’t have to do recovery perfectly. If it feels like we need to do a particular action, we can do it. If no action feels timely or inspired, don’t act on it.

Having and setting healthy limits – healthy boundaries – isn’t a tidy process. We can give ourselves permission to experiment, to make mistakes, to learn, to grow. We can talk to people, ask questions, and question our­selves. If there’s something we need to do or learn, it will become apparent. Lessons don’t go away. If we’re not taking care of ourselves enough, we’ll see that. If we are being too controlling, we’ll grow to understand that too.

Things will work out. The way will become clear."

Thank, Mel. I needed that.

I Love The Number Five

My birthday is May 5.

I am 50 years old.

I have been cancer free for five years.

We moved here to this beautiful place five years ago.

And my blog just hit 505 page views. I think that is a lot of views considering last week I knew with absolute certainty that I was writing to myself. Which is not considered as weird as talking to oneself.

First, Do Nothing

Is it wrong to be working on a list of things to do on the very first day of my "supposed to be learning how to do nothing" life? I just don't know the answer.

Melody Beattie's daily meditation for today really kind of nails it. It's about "control."

Surrender

This is me.

On leave for a month.

Starting right now.

So far, so good.

Trepidation

I worked for fourteen hours today from the comfort of my kitchen. I had a lot to do before I go into work tomorrow to hand over all of my responsibilities and take a thirty day stress leave for work addiction.

I am beginning to think my doctor and therapist are onto something. 

At the end of a long day, rather than figure out what to blog about, I like to pull an inspiration card or... something. I just pulled a card from my Buddhist Prayer Deck and it reads:

"There is only one moment in time when it is essential to awaken. That moment is now."

~Attributed to the Buddha~

I will take this as a sign. The Buddha wouldn't lie, right?