Category Archives: Musings

The Garden

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P1090067My grandfather was a fantastic gardener. He had the cleanest garden, there wasn’t a weed in it. He grew things in the rocky, dry soil of Maine with no landscape fabric, pesticides, modern fertilizer, motorized tillers, or any of the other modern gardening equipment we use today. Pappy gardened organically back when organic wasn’t a “thing”. He did it that way because he was really frugal. I still remember going over to his house with my Dad on a weekend afternoon. I would tell him I was hungry and he would reach down and pull a carrot out of the ground, wash it off under the faucet, and hand it to me. Those still are the best carrots I have ever tasted.

Since I am home, I decided to use some of my sabbatical time to plant a garden. I don’t hope to be as good at it as Pappy was, but I aim to learn. There is something mystical about planting things and watching them grow like magic out of the ground. I often wonder how disconnected from the earth we become when we only have the opportunity to buy food from boxes and Styrofoam trays wrapped in plastic from a grocery store. Everyone should have the opportunity to just stick their hands in the dirt and plant something and watch it grow. 

The other day when skiing, a friend and I were talking a lot about my garden, about what I was going to plant and I told her about my grandfather. At lunch, she ran into an old friend who she had lost touch with. After they chatted for a few moments, my friend and I went back out skiing where she told me the story of what had happened to her friendship with this other person.

She said at one time, they had been best friends. When I asked what had happened between them, she shared a great analogy with me. She said it was like they had together planted a shared garden, in this case, the garden represented their friendship. They would meet at the garden, plant seeds, discuss soil, communicate what needed to be done, share responsibilities and divide up tasks. When one person was busy or having a tough time, the other picked up the slack in the garden of their relationship. They tended the garden of their friendship together every day through their communication which kept the weeds away and the ground fertile. My friend went through a challenging time with a divorce and lots of life changes and it was difficult to be around her at that time. After a while, her friend stopped coming to the garden as often. My friend continued to go there, continued to plant and nourish the relationship, but as time went on, she felt more and more devalued by her friend’s absence. My friend was hurt and finally, she started going to the garden less and less frequently until one day she just stopped. Not too long after that day, her friend came to the garden to find it empty, untended, and overgrown. She called my friend to find out what was up. My friend, although heartbroken, kept her resolve to honor her boundaries and not allow herself to be taken for granted. Her friend decided that the friendship wasn’t worth the effort. They hadn’t seen each other again until the other day when we were skiing.

I loved the analogy of the garden as a relationship. If you have ever gardened before then you know how hard it is. It takes planning, preparation, planting, daily effort, watering, weeding, fertilizing, pest maintenance and harvesting. Gardening isn’t for the faint of heart. But the rewards of the garden, the best tasting most incredible food you have ever eaten, is absolutely worth the effort. It is the same with relationships. It takes communication, effort, shared experiences, mutual value, respect, compassion, caring, and time. Relationships aren’t for the faint of heart either. The rewards however, are priceless. It is the difference between pulling the best tasting carrot from the ground or buying something processed from a box. Both will feed you, but only one nourishes your soul.

The Most Boring Post Club…

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I have been really busy trying to figure out what I am doing with my life now that I am looking at the last half of my sabbatical. My fears and insecurities about my life have made it hard for me to write this blog.  As usual, my incredible friends have given me inspiration where I least expected it, from Facebook.  One of my friends posted a thread asking the question of if/how we know our lives had an impact. At the same time, another one posted in a group that is entitled “The Most Boring Post Club”.  Both of those things made me think pretty deeply about the stories of our lives.

We influence people every day, in every contact we have with them. Those influences aren’t necessarily good and it is important to remember that when we interact with people.  We can be friendly, give someone a smile, say hello, show compassion… or we can hurry along, ignoring someone, being cruel, making fun of people, judging.  I find it interesting that the most judgmental people I know are also those people who see the world around them as a bad place, their lives are never what they want them to be, and their pasts are littered with the emotional wreckage of their interactions with people.  But every day, we have a choice to be who we want to be.  Every day we can make our story and our impact on the world what we want it to be.  It doesn’t have to be a huge thing, it doesn’t have to be anything to do with our job.  It can be as simple as taking time for people, accepting, and understanding.

Enter, the second Facebook post, in a group called the Most Boring Post Club. Facebook is an interesting medium for communication.  I know people who will see this group, read some of the posts, see themselves in something someone posted that is similar to what they post on their own Facebook and think “I am boring”.  And then they will get insecure and change what they are posting to conform to what they think people want from them. Let me go on record right now, people give me grief all the time for what I post on Facebook.  Guess what?  It is MY Facebook page, if people don’t like it, they don’t have to read it.  Unfriend me. Please, it won’t hurt my feelings. I have no desire to make anyone else miserable by forcing them to read my Facebook.

Whether it is in real life or on Facebook, I don’t want to be wasting minutes of my life judging people’s behavior.  My life is short enough as it is, I don’t have time to waste.  Complaining about what someone else is posting on Facebook is wasting my time, what should I care what they post on their page?  There are REAL problems in the world that I can do something about, to have a positive impact on the world. I am not going to worry about whether I am boring to someone, that is a waste of my time.  In fact, if one of my posts makes it to the Most Boring Post Club, then it is a WIN because I just amused a whole group of people!  I might try to post boring stuff from now on, kind of like my campaign to post food pictures on Instagram ever since someone gave me grief about posting food pictures.  Yeah, I know, I don’t play by the “rules” where I conform whenever I am criticized.  I thank Matt for that.

I have said it before and am going to say it again…  be who you are and the people who want to be in your life will gravitate toward the authentic you, because you don’t want people who don’t want you for who you are.  Don’t worry about what other people are doing, what they look like, what they are wearing, eating, or posting on Facebook.  Gravitate toward those people who you like and who like you in return.  And don’t waste one second of the precious seconds of your life worrying about what people think of you or what other people are doing with their own lives.  If you want to have an impact, if you want to influence the world, just be yourself.

For me, I gravitate toward people who can show vulnerability.  That is a critical characteristic of people who I want as my friends.  If they can be vulnerable and show their “crazy” it gives me the freedom to be vulnerable in return. The people who influence me show courage, compassion, loyalty, forgiveness, acceptance, honesty, and who keep their word.  Everyone makes mistakes and has times where they screw up, but the people in my life who couldn’t consistently show those things are gone.  Period.

So post them up folks.  If you are my friend on Facebook, I want to know what you were eating, what your problems are, what you are doing today, what your insecurities are, and what you passions are.  I want to see your pictures and hear about your children and your travels.  I want you to be gloriously boring and amazingly authentic.  That is the way you can influence my life.  And if what I post bothers you, well, maybe you can find some better friends in the Most Boring Post Club.

 

No regrets…just lessons learned

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I was watching a TV show yesterday. For those who don’t know me personally, I haven’t had a TV in a couple of years so watching TV feels like a whole new activity for me.  Anyway, it was a talk show and during the show, they had a twitter feed in the background.  The host was talking about how every experience in our lives can teach us a lesson, so rather than look on those experiences as negative, look on them as lessons.  A viewer tweeted a quote that went something like “instead of being a victim, be a student”. I really like that thought.

I have several friends who have gone through amazingly difficult struggles in their lives. Their lives were divided by zero many times.  Abusive childhoods filled with alcoholic parents, marriages with abusive spouses, dealing with infidelity from someone who made sacred vows to honor and cherish, amputated limbs, quadriplegia from a car accident, death of a child, recovering alcoholics/addicts, cancer, Lou Gehrig’s disease, and so many more.  Most of the people I admire the most have overcome tremendous obstacles, it is what refined their character.  They used those struggles as opportunities to grow, they refused to become victims.  They became students of life instead.  I would say that most of them have the equivalent of a PhD in life lessons.

Then there are the people in life that are mired in what has happened to them, refusing to let it go.  Now, I am not saying that all of us don’t go through that, heaven knows I have had my walk through the dark side of life where I just couldn’t seem to claw my way out of the pit of despair.  It might take awhile, but the trick is to not stay there. And it doesn’t just happen that you come out of it magically on your own, you have to fight for it.

So how is it that some people can make hard choices, do the right thing, feel compassion and forgiveness for those who have wronged them, own up to their mistakes, problem-solve, and move forward while others just wallow, refusing to take responsibility for anything they have done and making the same mistakes over and over again?

I don’t have the answers to those questions only my own ideas.  I believe it has something to do with what the person tweeted… people who can move on and build a better life out of the emotional ruins of trauma are people who are unwilling to stay the victim, instead can morph themselves into learners.  They refuse to take life as it is, just because people believe they should stay down.  They refuse to stick to the stereotypes that people force upon them. They are willing to muck around in the dark times of their lives as a chance to learn.  Why would they do that? Because they don’t want to make the same mistakes, they want to do it better the next time.  I once had someone say to me on an internet forum that “you’d think some of us would learn as we get older, but that isn’t the case”.  Guess what?  Age by itself isn’t a teacher.  Age is only a teacher if you learn the lessons as you go along and do the hard work needed to overcome challenges.

I believe the people who can grow from adversity are people who are willing to reflect on their lives and who have the courage to say when they made a mistake and are willing to make amends.  They aren’t afraid to put themselves out there, to be vulnerable, to risk, to be authentic, and to care.

I was just sitting here at the student union of the amazing university I get to teach at, reflecting on learning as I get ready to be immersed in an incredible professional development program, and I find I am in awe of where I am in my life.  I started to say I was the luckiest human being on the planet, but it isn’t luck. I have learned, that is why I am here.

Soon I will begin my traveling adventures again.  All the experiences I have had, the choices I have made, the people I have met and the obstacles I have overcome have brought me to this place. I have no regrets… just lessons learned.

Title IX – Lessons learned from a book on knitting

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My roommate bought me a book on knitting for Christmas.  I finally got around to reading it last weekend as I was ensconced in a beautiful cabin next to a lake looking out at the snow falling on the cedar trees. The perfect place to not only read a book on knitting but to actually knit.

If you know me then you know I am the most unlikely knitter.  I majored in math, I like sports, and although I come from a family of creative talented craftspeople, I have never gravitated toward making crafts.  I can do a minimal amount of woodworking and in another life, I used to sew.  I do love to cook but my time and energy has been devoted to what are typically seen as “men’s” pursuits… sports, outdoor activities, fixing things, etc. I have spent most of my lifetime in a world where men held power.  Thus for me, activities traditionally thought of as “men’s” were seen as having more value. That is, until the knitting book…

The author of the book talks about her own resistance to knitting, which is seen as a very female gendered activity. She is a woman about my age, having grown up in the era where we watched our older sisters and mothers burn their bras in protest of unequal rights, where we have watched women struggle to get hired or compensated equally to men, and where we watched men get ostracized because they chose professions or clothing that typically belongs to “women”.  So she, like me, resisted what we saw as “women’s” hobbies, or as my brothers would describe as “skirt work”.  But what I realized is that to devalue certain tasks because they are typically thought of as a female activity is the very epitome of anti-feminism and smacks of the idea that only activities that traditionally belong to men have value.  Hence, I started knitting.

Since I started thinking of this, I have had a couple of discussions with people that have really stuck in my psyche.  Both discussions were regarding female athletes “not being as good as men” or women’s sports (for example snowboarding at the Olympics) being perceived as “boring”.  It made me reflect on Title IX, which as first written, didn’t have anything to do with sports at all but that is what it became known for.

Some history (source Wikipedia):  The first person to introduce Title IX in Congress was its author and chief Senate sponsor, Senator Birch Bayh of Indiana.  Bayh was working on the Equal Rights Amendment and abolishing discriminatory treatment based on gender however was having difficulty getting the bill out of committee.  Since the Higher Education Act was on the floor of the Senate already, Bayh introduced an amendment, Title IX which said:

No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving federal financial assistance…

In his remarks on the Senate floor, Bayh said, “We are all familiar with the stereotype of women as pretty things who go to college to find a husband, go on to graduate school because they want a more interesting husband, and finally marry, have children, and never work again. The desire of many schools not to waste a ‘man’s place’ on a woman stems from such stereotyped notions. But the facts absolutely contradict these myths about the ‘weaker sex’ and it is time to change our operating assumptions….an equal chance to attend the schools of their choice, to develop the skills they want, and to apply those skills with the knowledge that they will have a fair chance to secure the jobs of their choice with equal pay for equal work”. 

Title IX became law on June 23, 1972.  At that time, less than 2% of women participated in athletics. There were several subsequent attempts to exempt revenue sports from the impact of Title IX (Tower Amendment) and it wasn’t until 1988 when the Civil Rights Restoration Act was passed that it was fully implemented. 1988… By then I was 25 years old and had two children.  1988…this isn’t ancient history, in fact, it is barely history at all.

People still don’t get it.   It isn’t about sports.  When I hear the conversation that women aren’t as “athletic” or that women’s sports don’t have the same excitement, it makes my blood boil. I have actually heard someone recently say that “women have their place” and that it isn’t in sports known as “men’s sports”.  When the Seattle Seahawks won the Superbowl and the press reported that it was the first national championship Seattle had won since the Sonics won the national championship for basketball, they totally disregarded the two National Championships the Seattle Storm has won.  And I repeat…this isn’t about sports… it is about respect.  As much as I love my Seahawks, it makes me want to never give my money or time attending or watching another Hawks game without first giving equal time and respect to the Storm.

Regardless whether you are a man or a woman, whether you stay at home or work a job, if you like or hate sports, if you are conservative or liberal, that isn’t what Title IX is about.  It is about choice.  It is about having the choice and freedom to participate in the activity you want to participate in, go to the school you want to attend, have the same chance to get hired for a job you are qualified for, or to stay home and take care of your family regardless of your gender.  Title IX is about equal rights for all people regardless of gender.  It isn’t about wanting to stay home with your family, there is nothing wrong with that and equal rights doesn’t mean losing that. It is about having a choice.

When I was in high school, women made less than 50 cents for every dollar a man did. Now, that is at 72 cents.  Progress right?  Wrong.  That means for a man who is making $20 a hour that is $800 a week, a little over $40,000 a year… for a woman in that same job, it would be $14.40 an hour or $576 a week which is less than $30,000.  That is a big difference.

It would be really easy to get complacent and say “we have come a long way” or “I am happy with my life now”.  I look at my granddaughters and I want better for them. I don’t want to stop fighting until they have the opportunity to make the same pay for the same job, until they can be a NASCAR driver if they want to without being seen as a “pretty token who actually can’t drive”, until they can get Red Bull to build them their own snowboarding park and sponsor them at the same level they sponsor a male snowboarder.  I want them to know a world where people give credence to their accomplishments, not because they are beautiful or because they wear the right clothes, but because of who they ARE.

So today, if you have a choice in your life to marry the person you want to marry, to go to the school you want to attend if you are qualified, or to participate fully in a sport, then take a moment to thank those of us who are in our 50-70’s who fought for you to have that freedom.  Thank those of us that played sports in skirts because we weren’t allowed to wear shorts but we did it anyway. Ask us about what it was like, our generation won’t be around much longer to fight the battle for you. Take time to thank the men and women who believe the world would be better if we didn’t belittle half of our population. And by the way…you are welcome.

And then do us a favor…don’t stop fighting.  Whether you are a man, woman, a career person or a stay-at-home caregiver… don’t stop fighting until we all have the right to live our best life, unrestricted by gender constraints, unbound, free and equal.  That goes for the man who wants to stay home with his kids while his wife works as well as the woman who doesn’t want kids but wants to be an engineer, or a NASCAR driver, or a snowboarder… and for equity’s sake, stop disparaging women in sports or objectifying them.  Treat them as equal human beings. Please. And go to a women’s sporting event, even if you are bored, just to show your support.  Do it to support all those of us who came before… who have sacrificed and fought so that women can earn $0.72 for every dollar a man does.  And don’t stop fighting even after we are gone.

The long walk home…

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When I decided to stop traveling and move back to the northwest, I rented a house in a rural area.  I have done the urban lifestyle for a few years and I just decided it was time to get back to my roots.  It is a fantastic house in a great location and has lots of outdoor space to play in.  The only problem with it so far is its lack of access to public transit.  Because of that I have found myself driving everywhere and that isn’t going to work for me.

So the other day I got my bike tuned up with a renewed zeal to ride everywhere and stop using my car.  The only thing I don’t yet have are new lights for my bike, but those will come in time and as the days get lighter longer, they won’t even be needed.  In the meantime, I am walking the 2 miles to the nearest bus stop.

I lamented that at first but then the other night, my attitude totally turned around.  I wanted to go downtown to meet some friends for happy hour.  The commute by bus is 33 minutes from the bus stop and costs $2.50.  So round-trip is $5 and about an hour commute. Driving at that time of day would have been longer and it would have cost me more money in gas, so economically it made sense.  There is also the alcohol aspect.  I don’t drink and drive so the bus is a great option to be able to enjoy happy hour and then let someone else do the driving for me after I have had a couple of glasses of wine, or in the case of Wednesday, vodka tonics.

So I am walking to the bus stop and on the way I was thinking about a Facebook conversation about race, class, and privilege. I remembered watching a movie called the Long Walk Home about the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955. It was sparked when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat to a white passenger and was arrested.  At that time, white people boarded the bus and filled up the rows starting in the front and moving toward the back.  Black people started in the back and filled in the rows moving toward the front. When the rows met and the bus was full, black passengers would have to stand if they got on the bus.  If a white person entered the entire first row of blacks had to stand and give their row to a white person.  Rosa Parks refused.  This sparked a bus boycott.

Boycotts are hard things to pull off. A person has to be committed to their cause enough to sacrifice whatever service or product they are receiving from the entity they are boycotting.  And it has to be a big enough sacrifice by enough people to make a difference.  Since 75% of the bus ridership was African-American, the Montgomery boycott was successful in ending segregation on public buses, but it wasn’t without cost to the people who were standing their ground for what they believed was right.

There were people that had to get up long before dawn to walk the 10 miles to work, work all day, then walk the 10 miles home at which time, they had to take care of their chores at home also.  Ten miles.  Even at a decent clip of 4 mph, that is at least 5 hours walking time each day.  That meant leaving home at least by 5:30 in the morning if you were working 8-5 and getting home past 7:30. That is sacrificing for your beliefs.  Who to hell am I to be bitching about 2 miles to the bus stop?  In Nepal and Spain, I walked or cycled almost exclusively except for a couple of times of riding on the bus. How does being back in the land of great roads and gas sucking SUV’s all of sudden turn me into a pile of mush that I can’t walk a couple of miles?

So there was a whole shift in my attitude.  I realized it is worth a 4 mile round trip.  In reality, the 4 extra miles of working out is good for my physical health. Being outdoors for that extra hour every day makes also me more centered and contributes to my overall well-being. I get to walk through an amazingly beautiful area with wetlands and eagles and even saw a beautiful blue jay on my walk yesterday. And I believe that taking public transit, walking, or riding my bike is better for the environment.  So I am trying to make that walk be part of my routine.  Whether headed to the bus stop, the gym, or wherever I am going, it is only two miles there and two miles back.  It isn’t like it is a long walk home.

An elimination diet for your soul…

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Have you ever done an elimination diet?  It is an extreme diet that people do when they are having digestion problems or allergies and want to isolate what particular foods are causing their distress.  The dieter takes their nutrition down to the basics for a few weeks and then add in foods one at a time to see what particular foods are contributing to their physical difficulties. It is really hard, but it make so much sense.  How else will they figure out what makes them feel good or bad so they can make adjustments?  It is virtually impossible when you are eating all your regular foods to isolate the combinations that are problematic.  Before people go to that extreme, they start with a food journal, writing down what they ate and how they feel, but when that doesn’t work, it is time for an elimination diet.

Right now with everything I have done in the past year, I feel like I have been on an elimination diet for my soul and I am finally at the place where I get to add stuff back in, slowly and deliberately with one thing being added in at a time.  That way, I get to try it, see how it feels, and decide if it makes me feel good enough to keep in my life. When I got back, I started off too fast, trying to go right back to the life I had.  But as Matt reminded me recently, I am not that person anymore.  So after Jan 1, I have been being a lot more deliberate in my actions and in the relationships I am cultivating.

So what have I added back?

16625_10100900261346063_799026473_nSkiing: I have been doing a lot of skiing by myself and with just a few very close friends.  It has renewed my love for the sound of the snow under my skis, the smell of the mountain air, the breathtaking views,  the solitude when I am alone, and just the whole body sensation of flying down a mountain.  I love to ski. The last couple of years I allowed myself to get too wrapped up in the social aspect of skiing and needed to step away.  It is really a joy to reconnect with the sport I love on its elemental level.

Yesterday, I got my bike ready to ride and I am going to ride either tomorrow or Saturday.  The only thing I love as much as skiing is riding my bike.  I don’t need to go fast, climb better than anyone else, dress in appropriate attire or any of that stuff that cyclists worry about.  Getting caught up in all that made me hate riding my bike.  I just love the feeling of being outdoors, braving the weather, feeling like I am one with the machine that is making me fly along, just pure joy coursing through my body as my heart, lungs and legs make me remember that I am alive.  It makes me feel like I am a 10 year old.  This time, I am going to take the advice of my friend, Cindy and make time for pie at the end of a ride.

Kerry Park view

Kerry Park view

I have been enjoying going to some of the great places that I love in Seattle, happy hours up on the Hill with Tony, going up to Kerry Park for meditation and reflection, riding the ferries, the beauty of rural Snohomish County, the jaw-dropping views of the Cascades and Olympics, cooking in a real kitchen again, sharing laughter and a meal with my roommate and her daughter, building a fire, chopping and stacking wood, and learning how to knit.  These are all things I am keeping.

But it hasn’t been easy.  I have struggled and even messed up a few times. The other day, I bought sheets and a blanket.  Now I own household stuff again.  I have to admit, it was a little traumatizing.  It made me feel tied down.  I made it worse when I then watched “Into the Wild” for the first time and it made me feel REALLY tied down.  I have struggled with trying to work on a grant and a few publications.  But mostly, I have struggled when the people who know me from my former life put pressure on me to be the way I was.  I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to say yes to everyone and allow people to treat me badly just so that I won’t offend anyone or let anyone down. Because ultimately, when I act that way, all I am doing is letting myself down.  That has meant culling some relationships that aren’t healthy for me which has hurt people because they don’t understand why I am not just like I used to be.  It is hard not having any answers for them of when I will want to do things again, because the honest answer is that I may never want to do some things again.

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Olympics and a Washington State ferry in the Puget Sound

Right now, all I know right now is this, I feel better than I ever remember feeling.  I am making decisions based on strength and on what I really want to do.  My past doesn’t control me, fear doesn’t control me, and my choices are my own.  So I guess, the elimination diet for the soul is working so far.

That was when I lived in a morgue…

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Of all the stories I expected to hear on my story collecting adventure, the words “I lived in a morgue” probably never made my list. But my friend Keri did, in fact, live in a morgue and even has some incredible pictures to prove it. In the midst of a casual conversation the other night, she uttered the words “when I lived in the morgue”…say WHAT?  When prompted for the story, she revealed that she and several other ski instructors lived there together when they were working in Garmisch, Germany. She dragged our her old photo album and told the story as we scrolled through her awesome pictures that showed a bunch of twenty-somethings living it up in this funky place with a half-moon shaped area where at one time bodies were viewed, a kitchen that had once been where embalming happened and had no counter space at all because of that, and Keri’s bedroom which had previously been where the crematorium ovens were located.  There were also some underground tunnels from the old hospital to the morgue that were built during the war so that the German public wouldn’t know how many men were dying in the war.  It was kind of freaky, but they had some incredible parties in that “house”.  Halloween must have been awesome.

It is funny because I have known Keri for the last seven years but did not know that about her. What made that story even more interesting is Keri herself.  Of all the people I know who might have uttered the words “I lived in a morgue”, she would have been the last person I would have expected. Keri is one of the most amazingly even keeled and centered people I have ever met.  Yet, in hindsight, maybe it isn’t so surprising after all.  Keri also flows easily in her life taking whatever opportunities that come up with little hesitation.  She lives her life fully every day.  She is a remarkable and courageous person.

One of the things I love about our friendship is how easy it is.  When we haven’t seen each other in a while, we can pick right up where we left off.  We talk to each other about our lives, dreams, fears, joys, and sorrows.  She gives the best advice and I value her wisdom.  She has a way of understanding human interactions that cuts through all the subterfuge. Out of all my friends, she is one of the best at self-care and boundaries.

I have been thinking a lot about relationships this week, both friendships and intimate relationships. I am in the midst of taking a hard look at my relationships and reflecting on the ones that add value to my life and to which I am adding value in return. Great relationships that add significance to my life, like the ones I share with my closest friends, take open communication of both the good and the bad of our lives. These relationships are easy because we are willing to be open and authentic with each other, telling each other our truths while respecting how each feels.  Frankly, I don’t want any other kind of relationships in my life other than easy ones.  Relationships with people who don’t keep their word, lie, use subterfuge, give you the silent treatment, or omit details to try to avoid conflict just take too much effort and energy. Relationships should be easy.

However, I think a mistake that is common in intimate relationships is believing that one person can meet all our needs. It is impossible for one person to meet all our needs and it would be a huge burden on any one person to try to accomplish that.  Life is enriched by all our relationships not just the intimate ones. Relationships with a variety of people give us perspective from many angles and broaden our understanding of the world around us.. Life becomes rich and full when we embrace all of those various relationships.

As a caveat, it also must be considered that inherent in relationships is a measure of risk.  When we trust others with our vulnerabilities, we stand the risk of being rejected, hurt, used, and taken for granted.  When that happens and a valued relationship ends, it is hard to pick up the threads of trust to try again.  But try we must.  Human beings were not meant to live in isolation from others.  Our relationships bring us wisdom, joy, beauty, poetry, happiness, physical comfort, sorrow, grief, and the whole range of human emotions.  Through those relationships we find strength and comfort when the problems of the world rise around us.  It is also through those relationships that we grow and reach our fullest potential.  Without them, we die, maybe not all at once, but our soul dies day by isolating day.  And we live in our own private morgue, not one that has a bunch of fellow ski instructors who are full of life, but in the shells of our bodies going through the motions of life.

My Life Divided by Zero advice for this week is to collect a story, have a conversation with someone, find out a really interesting fact that you didn’t previously know and tell them something about you in return. Risk, trust, open up and be vulnerable to someone.  You might get hurt, but at least you will be alive. And you will probably come away with a great story to tell.  And that is what our lives are…a collection of stories.

Resolutions…

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I have never been a big fan of New Year’s celebrations.  I love the idea of spending the night with people you love, but I don’t have to get dressed up, blow noisemakers, and be out with thousands of other people to do that.  I prefer intimate gatherings of friends, soft comfy warm clothes, good music, a fireplace, and some nice hot beverages.

New Year’s is just a day, like all the other days in the year.  Our calendar date for the new year is arbitrary and there are other cultures that have a different date for the new year.  I do, however, like the symbolism of new years as a time of transition.  It is out with the old, in with the new.  It is a time of renewal.

This idea of transition from one year to the next is why people make resolutions.  I am not a big fan of resolutions either although in the past, I have always made them.  This year, I am going to try something different.  Thanks for the suggestion Deloa!

One problem I see with resolutions, at least for me, is that the resolution adds something I want to do onto my life, but my life is already full. Instead of out with the old, in with the new, my resolutions are add-ons and I have left out the part that I have to take something out. That is, I want to: lose weight, get in shape, spend more time with family, strengthen my relationships, etc. but in order to add something in, what I don’t consider is that I have to first let something go to make space for that new thing. I made resolutions and then six weeks later when I don’t have time for them or they are stressing me out, I drop them.  Yet I still keep walking around with the baggage I was carrying in the past year.

So this year, instead of making resolutions, I made two lists.  I made a list of things that aren’t working for me anymore and titled it Releasing.  Then I made another list of Intentions for the new year of changes I wanted to make in my life.  The releasing list has some relationships that aren’t working for me as well as organizations I belonged to that weren’t adding any value to my life, activities that I no longer do but still have gear for, etc. The intention list has the new relationships I want to cultivate, behaviors that I want to adopt, and activities I want to explore.  Beside each item on each list I am finding a symbol or a photo that represents each thing.  At midnight I am going to take my Releasing list and throw it into the fire, symbolically releasing the things that aren’t working for me, then I am going to throw my Intentions list into the fire and offer it up to the universe.

This might sound a little “out there” but really, is it any worse than making a resolution that I give up six weeks later?  In the past, I have found that by putting my intentions, dreams, hopes and desires out to the universe that it opens up the space for it to happen. It doesn’t always happen in the way I had envisioned, but nonetheless, I can create the life I want.

Here is the key…whatever you do, whether it is make a resolution or throw intentions into a fire, you have to believe, really believe, that you are worthy.  The energy you give off will come back to you. If you believe that you are worthy of happiness, love, success, abundance, joy…then that is what you will create.  But if deep down, you believe something else, then that is the energy that you are giving off and that is the energy that is going to gravitate back to you.  So whatever your intentions are, put them out to the universe with your whole heart.  In a few weeks, if you aren’t keeping your goals or working toward them, ask yourself if you truly believe you are worthy.  And if not, what is it that is holding you back?

“We can either watch life from the sidelines, or actively participate… Either we let self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy prevent us from realizing our potential, or embrace the fact that when we turn our attention away from ourselves, our potential is limitless.” ~Christopher Reeve

Happy New Year!

The life cycle of traditions

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Some people, when given a sign, know exactly how to read that sign and what they should do about it.  For me, the universe pretty much has to hit me over the head with a sign before I listen and change my course of action or beliefs.

When I was a teenager, I was pretty troubled.  An old native American told me that I wouldn’t find my true spirit until I walked with the Raven. I didn’t know what he meant and I spent much of my life trying to decipher those words through the situations and the people around me.  What I have realized is that even as a teenager, those words gave me hope.  He didn’t tell me that I would never find my spirit, but that it would happen in the future.  Hope is what most people need to get through life’s difficulties.

DCIM100GOPROLast summer, I had the opportunity to travel around the country.  Everywhere I went, when something transformative happened, there was a Raven there.  I couldn’t help but remember the old man’s words.  And at the time, it felt like chains were being released, emotional chains.  Later in the year, I had the opportunity to go to Nepal and paraglide with Egyptian vultures.  When I got back, one of my friends joked with me that my new name was Soars with Eagles.  I laughed and made a joke back to him in the manner of friends teasing each other and then forgot about his comment until yesterday.

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Photo by Richard A.

I have known I was a different person since I was in Nepal.  Traveling changed me a lot. When I got back to Seattle, I was walking through a wooded area to the gym and the Raven story was on my mind. I looked up at one point in my walk and there, about 30 feet from me, was a gorgeous American bald eagle looking at me.  He was just sitting in a dead tree and he was staring at me.  It was one of those times where the hair on the back of my neck started to stand up and that odd feeling that something special was happening, where my gut was churning with emotion.  Finally, after what felt like hours, he spread his wings and flew off.

I have a friend who is a shaman and when I told her about it she said “I think you are entering a new time in your life and the eagle is your guide”. Again, being the scientific linear thinking person that I am, I put it out of my mind.  Then yesterday, when my roommate and I were trying to figure out what movie to watch for our solstice celebration (read more below), she said “the only appropriate movie I can think of is Dances with Wolves”.  At that moment, all of the signs I just wrote about above converged in my head.

I realized the tradition of the raven was over. As a story, the last chapter of is written, now all I needed to find was a way to close it out.  About an hour later, my friends Nick and Sarah called and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch at Black Raven Brewery.  Yeah, okay universe, I get it. Nick, Sarah and I shared food and beer and toasted to lots of upcoming adventures we are planning.  It was a great symbolic way to put an end to the Raven.  But just because a story ends, doesn’t mean the characters in the story stop living, it just means they need to find another story to begin. Our stories, like all the traditions of our lives, have a life cycle.

Everyone has traditions.  They are a fundamental part of the structure of the lives of human beings. We have traditions surrounding all of the big events in life: marriage, birth, death, etc.  We also have everyday traditions or routines like brushing our teeth or going out for an Americano.  And then there are traditions surrounding holidays and special days like birthdays or anniversaries.  And then there are faith-based traditions.  All of them are important parts of who we are.

Since my divorce, the holidays have been very difficult because those traditions, those foundational structures of my life, were just instantaneously dissolved, there was no closure or slow letting go. Getting older has also ended certain traditions, although through a slower process.  My children have their own families now and are spending holidays and creating new traditions with those families just as they should be.

For me, I think that is one of the hardest parts of entering the autumn of my life.  I guess like most people, I struggle with things changing.  The empty nest syndrome when combined with the loss of your life partner is definitely a time of radical change. And just like any loss, traditions can’t just easily be replaced by something else.  It takes closure and time to grieve for their loss before you can start a new tradition and that process has to be respected.

When my kids were younger and I was married, holidays were filled with time spent with my children, extended family, passing around a blessing cup for giving thanks, Christmas lights, caroling, great food, lots of love, homemade pizza, decorating the Christmas tree, stocking stuffer shopping followed by lunch with my ex-husband, and many other wonderful memories. I have missed those traditions, but just like I am finding with many parts of my life, I am ready to move on.

So yesterday, it hit me.  I have been trying hard to recreate traditions to replace what has been lost. But just like with a lost pet or loved one, what is lost is gone forever.  I have beautiful memories of that time in my life and by trying to totally eradicate them and replace those memories, I am not honoring all the love that is inherent in them.  So instead of forgetting, I should try to find a way to honor those memories (skiing on holidays seems to work well for me) and then start wholly new traditions like celebrating the Solstice. I like this idea.

So yesterday, the day of the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, my new roommate and I had a solstice celebration with tasty food, wassail, a fire and lots of candles to welcome the sun and long days back into the northern hemisphere. And we watched Dances with Wolves. I also took time to honor the planet and to give thanks for all that I have.

I am an incredibly fortunate person.  I am thankful for my health, a great job, a loving family, two compassionate and thoughtful children who are in loving long-term relationships, and the most spectacular grandchildren ever.  I have a warm home, plenty to eat, a fantastic roommate, caring and supportive friendships, and opportunities to have amazing adventures in my life. I have the best life ever and from now on, I am going to use the solstice to celebrate and give thanks for that life.

The Solstice seemed like an appropriate time to remember the cycles and rhythms of the planet as well as the cycles and rhythms of my life.  It seems like a great new tradition has been born, a new life cycle has started.  Happy Solstice and welcome winter!

The 8 boxes…

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Yesterday, I unpacked my suitcase for the first time since May.  It was bittersweet, I hadn’t expected the mix of emotions it would bring.  As I unpacked and put my stuff away in a new house, new room, I couldn’t help but remember my last apartment and the last time my clothes hung in a closet. I was a little overwhelmed by all the changes.

I think that not having a home to come back to made my time travelling both physically simple yet emotionally challenging at the same time.  Travelling and knowing you have a familiar and comfortable place to come back to is very different from returning home to the unknown of having to find a place to live.  Add on the fact that I gave up all my stuff, an act which was both freeing and yet again, ridiculously challenging emotionally, and it made coming home and unpacking my clothes this surreal experience.  And yes, I found a great house and a super roommate.  Now I just have to adjust to a totally new life.

For those of you that haven’t read the back story, when I gave up my apartment in May and then started traveling in June, rather than put things in storage for a year, I reduced all of my possessions from the last 50 years of my life to 8 boxes, my checked bag of clothes and a carry on, and some gear stored at a friends house (thanks Jason!).  It was the hardest thing I have ever done. At least, it was the hardest thing I have ever done…until now.

heartYesterday, I opened one of the 8 boxes. I had thought that it would be a fun adventure to see what I had saved.  Instead, it felt more like opening Pandora’s Box.  The box I happened to open had pictures of my kids, a wood bowl that my uncle made, a ceramic heart that my daughter made when she was in elementary school, a box my son brought back from Australia when he was a teenager.  Similar to the experience of hanging my clothes in the closet, it was like a blast of memories rising up out of the cardboard.  I took out the big pieces and set them on a shelf in my room and then closed the box without going through the pictures.  I didn’t open the other boxes yet.

Today, my roommate and I are going to put up a Christmas tree.  I took out the two boxes of ornaments that I had saved.  Everyone that knows me, knows how much I used to love the spirit of Christmas.  Those ornaments represent 50 years of family holiday memories.  I have to admit, I am not sure I can open the boxes.

So what is my problem?  I had this amazing experience over the past 6 months.  I am a different person.  I shed the memories of the past and stepped into my present and hopefully my future.  I am happy and moving on. The problem is, I don’t want to go back to revisit the past at all, I want to avoid thinking about it and just continue on with my happy life. It isn’t that I want to erase it or forget it, it is all part of what made me who I am.  I just want to keep moving forward.  But there is one thing I know for certain, when something feels difficult and I don’t want to do it, that is the very thing that I need to do the most.  The hard things show me what I still need to work on.  Hmm it might be time for some brutal honesty here Robin. I hate it when I have to really reach inside for the hard emotional stuff. Okay here goes…

So I am looking at those boxes and part of me wishes I hadn’t saved anything… and that feels like a betrayal to all the people who gave things to me. For example, in one of those packing crates are the Shaker boxes that my dad made me before he died and I should feel excited to open them up.  But instead, I am torn.  On one hand, I have these possessions that have memories of the people I love attached to them, possessions like Shaker boxes and ceramic hearts from people like my dad or my kids.  On the other hand, I have the memories and the love of the people, I don’t need “stuff” to feel that. In fact, somehow the “stuff” diminishes from that love.  I guess what is confusing me is that, in the last 6 months, I have felt the love of the people in my life in a really powerful way and that couldn’t have happened with possessions detracting and getting in the way.

I guess when all the possessions in my life had been stripped away and all I had was the love of my family and friends, my whole life was just clearer and uncluttered.  The love I experienced over the last half year felt like the pure essence of what we are as human beings.  I want to make sure that I don’t lose that feeling in the trappings of “stuff” again. That is really what I am scared of.  Because material things, even handmade Shaker boxes made with love from my dad, can never replace the time spent with the people I love and who love me.  So even though I have those boxes, they aren’t more valuable than all the memories or the time I spent with my dad when he was alive.  The mementos and things I have from my children aren’t anything compared to the time I have spent with them and the love that we share.

I guess I have come to understand how much of a distraction all the stuff we have really is.  Obtaining and caring for possessions, working to pay for them, using them to substitute for emotions, buying things to fill voids in our lives, all those things distract us from what is really important in life which is loving the people in our lives and spending time with them. That is the greatest lesson I have learned and I never want to forget it again.  That is what I don’t want to go back to.  Ever.

So I guess I am scared that opening those boxes and reattaching to things will distract me from putting my emphasis on people. Today, opening those ornaments, is going to be a challenge, but I have to do it. Avoidance is never a solution.  I just need to breathe, stay present, be aware and I can totally do this.