Aligning Mind, Body & Soul
Do you have new thoughts?
Or do you cut yourself with the same emotions?
Is your joy bespoke?
Or do you suffer from nostalgia?
Is this experience a new memory?
Or is it part of a story written before me?
Are your bad habits new?
Or are they part of your DNA?
When you cry, is it transactional?
Or does it bleed from deep within?
Do you sing in the shower?
Or do you fear your voice?
What are you afraid of?
Or is it this?
It’s been two <million> years since my last post. The time warp that COVID caused has me feeling simultaneously like I aged 10 years and paused life entirely. I am still, much like you I presume, scratching my head. What actually just happened.
Today, I finished watching Netflix’s version of Jane Austen’s Persuasion starting Dakota Johnson. There are several scenes that have me like “yasss queen” to Anne Elliot. Note to the bibliophiles – this is a loose adaptation, and it doesn’t have great reviews. But, if you want my opinion, WATCH IT. It’s funny, charming, endearing, and has great music. Anyway, Anne has a broken heart and pines after this guy for YEARS. Her guide to getting over him:
She obviously gets that universally mandated second chance (because, Jane Austen), she laments a few things, enumerated because that’s what I do:
Some of this stuff bounces off the walls of my rib cage, careening right into that intersection of heart and throat constriction. My last post was about love – and really looking for that balance of choosing to love someone and choosing to love oneself. And really, I learned that if you have to make that choice, it’s a major indicator of fatal flaws. Actually, that is a fatal flaw itself. Wanting something, even badly wanting it, is not sustenance. Hope is not nutrition. Dreams are not a foundation. And as much as it hurts, it’s ok to recognize the limits of hope and dreams. I think now, that hopes and dreams are the airplane flying you to a joint destination. It’s exciting to head out on that adventure and absolutely nothing wrong with coming home alone. Just don’t be afraid to pack your bags and get back on that plane.
Metaphors aside, life can be really hard sometimes. I had a psychic reading this fall, in the midst of my life change, and she said that my chakra was frozen. Excuse me, what. That can happen?! That explained why I felt numb all over. Even my brain felt like it was suspended in a different time-space continuum. After reading about this, I recognized the power the brain exerts over the body, especially during trauma. If our limbic system arm wrestled our prefrontal lobe, it would punch the prefrontal lobe and then run away, leaving the prefrontal lobe wondering what the EFF just happened. Literally. This is how your brain responds to extreme stimuli. The definition of “extreme” is pretty subjective: if we operating on a 10-point scale for stress, and you are regularly at an 8, then you will likely engage your fight or flight faster than someone who operates at a 4. The way this happens is a series of neurons fire pathways leading you to either a reaction or a response. Staying present and grounded supports the response pathways to the prefrontal lobe (mindfulness and meditation are instruments here, but you can also use ice cubes on the wrist, breathing exercises, naming what you hear/smell, etc.).
Aside from the science, I want to share a few other things that may be helpful too. Life has been extraordinarily stressful these past few years. Politics, wars, climate change, inflation, a global pandemic. If you used to be a 4, it’s ok if you are a 6 now. Give yourself grace, and give some thought to my list (Angie’s List, if you will):
Love you all. Find grace, set your boundaries, give grace, and breathe.
“Love and Be Loved.”
As a refresher from my blog post of nearly 3 months ago, this was my closing lesson. Grimm, Roman mythology (not Greek – I studied Latin in school), Hans Christian Anderson, among others, taught me that the best tales told deliver a punch line to the figurative gut as a lesson or moral implication. I strive to make these heroes of mine proud.
And let’s be honest – I am always learning. As much as I would like to think that I know everything, I am constantly reminded that the world is not simple enough for my simple brain to understand in its entirety. Isn’t that beautiful and frightening all at once?
I picked up Leonard Cohen’s book of poetry called book of longing in the CDMX airport (Mexico City) over this past weekend. For a man who lived so much life, I looked to him for guidance. And Mr. Cohen made me laugh out loud with his interpretation of “imposter syndrome”:
One of My Letters
I corresponded with a famous rabbi,
But my teacher caught sight of one of my letters
And silenced me.
“Dear Rabbi,” I wrote him for the last time,
“I do not have the authority or understanding
To speak of these matters.
I was just showing off.
Please forgive me.
Your Jewish brother,
Jikan Eliezer.”
Likewise, I find it comforting and fascinating that other people in this world are looking inward, searching their soul for the answers that I find myself asking my own soul on the regular. Then I find it frightening that millions of years of humans are still searching for these answers. If someone has found them, they certainly aren’t publishing it on Reddit, Twitter, or other public forums. Sadly, perhaps they are, as of yet, untranslated hieroglyphs in ancient ruins. In the past week, Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain committed suicide while the CDC was publishing its latest results on the over 25% increase in deaths from suicide in the past few years. Are we getting further from the truth? Are we seeking self-indulgences and vanity through, ahem, blogging, selfies, and tweets instead of what really matters? And, what does really matter?
Excerpt from Through the Painted Deserts by Donald Miller (author of Blue Like Jazz):
My life, this gift I have been given, has been wasted, thus far, attempting to answer meaningless questions. Recently I have come to believe there are more important questions than HOW questions: how do I get money, how do I get laid, how do I become happy, how do I have fun? On one of our trips to central Texas, I stood at the top of a desert hill and looked into the endlessness of the heavens, deep into the inky blackness of the cosmos, those billion stars seeming to fall through the void from nowhere to nowhere. I stood there for twenty minutes, and as it had a few times that year, my mind fell across the question of WHY? … and so in exchanging the HOW questions for the WHY questions I began to probe the validity of presuppositions. … I confess I wanted to believe life was bigger, larger than my presuppositions.
I often think about the time I could be spending to make this world a better place, or at least make one person feel like the world is a better place, if I weren’t spending all of this time in my own head. Searching out meanings to questions. Analyzing interactions and human behavior. Watching life lived and people fall in love instead of living and loving myself. It feels safer to be a voyeur. It takes less energy to sit on the sidelines of passivity and by approximation revel in the love and life of those around you. And by you, I mean me.
But I can’t help but wonder – are you feeling this way too? Clearly Leonard Cohen, Donald Miller, and I have had these thoughts, so it wouldn’t be out of line to think you may as well.
Let’s do this together then. What scares you the most? What keeps you benched instead of out there with the rest of the team?
My fears, in a kind of random chaos:
Is the first step admitting you have a problem? If so, we are on the right track. Second step – learn from others, escape, meditate, practice loving yourself. Read Maya Angelou.
Touched by an Angel (Maya Angelou)
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
Once upon a time, there was a little redheaded boy, named BW, born to a man who was figuring out his life and a woman who took on Responsibility as if it were created only for her. BW was the cutest kid you have ever seen – flaming orange hair. Technically he qualified a redhead, but a true artist would say the blazing orange of a sunset, the heat from a roaring bonfire, and the best mix of ketchup and mustard for sublime tator tot dipping. BW was the apple of his daddy’s eye. Life had some struggles but all seemed smooth when along came another baby – a teeny tiny little girl, with large, dark eyes and dimples that could melt even the most frigid. Sweetheart, she was called by both her mommy and daddy. It was clear from the beginning that she would be the star of her mommy’s story. The family seemed ablaze – full of life and love. But, as with all tales of wisdom, these two young people could not make it work. They fought and created cuts, scabs and scars in each other, until the bond broke, and the two children of fury and flame were left in the middle.
Fast forward over the next 15 years. BW and Sweetheart were best friends. Daddy remarried and adopted two older sons. Mommy remarried and had another baby – with large dark eyes fringed by lashes so dark, they appeared to be cut from a single piece of cloth. Growing up was difficult – between parents fighting, new marriages blooming, and all-American families blending. Needless to say, roads diverged. Sweetheart and BW lost their friendship, and Sweetheart stopped calling, coming to family functions, ceasing to exist in the world they had created.
Fast forward 15 more years. Daddy gets sick. It appears as though it is an intestinal blockage. But it is that C word. That horrible life taker, misery maker, leaving questions in its wake. But Daddy beats it! He comes out the other side, where esophageal cancer is waiting. Again, he fights his battle. His head held high, hope and humor his armor. One day, Daddy starts cursing like a sailor. Trying to escape his house. Forgetting his phone number. It appears this battle cannot be won. That damned C word has taken refuge in his brain, on his adrenal gland, in his bones.
For the last weeks of Daddy’s life, Sweetheart stayed by his side. Washing his face, sharing stories, holding his hand, watching old Westerns. BW joins and the two converge on memory lane where the 3 Musketeers roam once more. Where life seems to have a vintage quality but the characters are more grown up, mature, and facing a mountain of pain and despair. That mountain they will climb as a two-some, as BW and Sweetheart, because Daddy is now in the sky, illuminating the mountain with his brilliant rays, casting out demons, cleansing, warming the soul and shining from the laugh lines and dimples, bouncing off that beautiful orange hair.
This is where “control” doesn’t exist. In this land, there is no word for it. There is only day-by-day. A journey of remembrance. In this world, it is apparent where “control” misled, demanded, judged, forced, and demeaned. And it is in this world where love and laughter, living side by side, accepting people as they come that exists. The message is simple – Love and Be Loved.
I miss you Daddy. I only needed “One More Night” or “Another Day in Paradise” to see your “True Colors”. I “Can’t Stop Loving You” with this “Groovy Kind of Love”. “You’ll Be in My Heart”.
<Phil Collins and Genesis are a family favorite. Please listen to these songs and honor my Daddy.>