Summertime

It is finally that lush lush hot humid green outside I wanted so badly back in winter. Isn't it amazing how quickly we take it for granted, once we're given what we wish for?

This morning I mowed my lawn. All by myself. I have never mowed a lawn before. But I am a big fan of this lady right here, and Max Daniels sent out a newsletter talking about failure. And how one way to deal with the fear of failure is to practice failing. And you know how much I love PRACTICING A SOMETHING. And so I decided I would practice failing at mowing the lawn, since it is one of those eternal fights between me and my partner, and it needed it. It was so interesting, because at first I couldn't figure out how to adjust the handle, and I found myself totally doing what my daughter does, which is say, "I can't do it. I'm just going to have to mow the lawn with the handle in this position. That stinks. But I can't do it, so I guess that's the way it is."  I told myself exactly what I tell her, "Keep trying. I bet you can figure it out. And if you need help, help is available." And it worked! I figured it out! Oh my goodness I learn so much from being a parent. (Also, side note: I called my husband to tell him I had mowed the lawn like I said I was going to last night, and he was very critical and said he would do it again when he came home if it needed it. Why? Sigh.)

So I didn't exactly fail at mowing. I definitely need more practice, but holy mack, that lawn got mowed. So did I fail at failing? Does it still count? Hmmm. Max says aim for 50 fails. That is a lot of failure for a good little doobie-girl to handle.

Today is my Papa's 70th birthday. Good lord. Happy birthday to him. 70 years is many many years, and I am glad we are all going to celebrate together tonight and then again tomorrow (just for added bonus).

It also inaugurates the annual season of family events, in which just about every weekend we have plans of one kind or another. Which is enormously stressful to me. I want so much for everything to be relaxed and groovy, for us all to be happy and full of hugs and love, and somehow I end up participating in old dramas and absorbing a whole lot of unpleasant anxiety, intermixed with some bright shots of joy. Which is all to say that there is a lot of opportunity to fail in the next few months. Many people to disappoint, and many situations in which to try something different.

I like the re-framing of failure as a project. I'm going to periodically check in about how well I'm doing. Meanwhile I'm going to take a little quiet time before the family all arrive, now that my yard looks SO GREAT.

Feelings, nothing more than feelings...

I am mad at my husband. All the usual caveats of love and adoration aside, the truth is I am mad and have been for some time. There is scar tissue built up along this wound. 

How did this happen? I feel extremely dowdy, very housecoat and curlers about  this assertion of frustration. My husband is a most excellent man. He is generous and sweet-natured. He is logical and thorough and works hard. He comes home when he says he is going to and he makes pancakes on weekend mornings. 

Can you believe I am even mad about the  pancakes? I don't particularly like pancakes. Especially pancakes with chocolate in them, because I don't particularly like to eat breakfast and that is just sugar overload. But when my husband makes pancakes it is a big deal, and he feels proud and like he is taking good care of us, so probably twice a month we all have pancakes. Every time, for nigh on eleven years, because it was probably 10 months into dating that I got up the courage to tell him I didn't like chocolate in my pancakes, he puts one or two chocolate chips into my otherwise plain pancakes. This feels aggressive, and I am angry about it. 

Ok. So obviously I have chosen a story to make you sympathetic to my anger. I'm sure my husband could tell some stories on me, because I think he's secretly pretty put out with me as well. 

It seems like there are a lot of us in this situation of being angry at our spouses. 

Which seems so bizarre, because we all CHOSE each other. And spent at least some period of time thinking that a life with this person would be pretty groovy. And then at some point we get mad and that anger gets hooked pretty good on this other person who we adore. 

What happens then? Ugly. I do not like it.  I know many many people have found that leaving, and trying again later, is a good solution. I will tell the truth: I think seriously about it. I do believe, however, that humans do basically what they want, and I do not want leaving to be my solution right now. 

How do we get here, I want to know, and how do we get back? 

Fruits of thy labor

This morning, a beautiful thought arrived, for which I am most grateful.

The story is this: I have been feeling allergicky (which hasn't happened in some years, because recently I have been either pregnant or nursing in the spring). And as per tradition, with the allergies came asthma. If you are a sufferer of asthma, you know it is really about terror. It is entirely terrifying to not be able to breathe, which just aggravates the problem into a horrible cycle sometime arrested only by visits to emergency rooms and breathing in lots of medicine. Blech.

Long about 2008, with some help, I figured out that the best thing I can do in the course of an asthma attack is get really quiet and focus on my breathing, constantly reminding myself that in THIS instant I have enough air, that my heart is beating, that I am safe.  I am not recommending this practice as a cure-all, but for me it is very effective.   Still, asthma is no fun, and it is scary, and it makes me angry.

SO. What have I been doing with these feelings of frustration and fear?

Trying desperately to find a source. Is it my husband, who wants me to euthanize my cat and never cleans the house? Is it my daughter, who screams for help no matter how patiently I explain that screaming is not how we get things done? Is it my work, which is creatively a little dormant? Is it my period, because maybe I really should be pregnant again? Is it my cat, who pees in all my shoes?

It is all these things, and the BIGGEST BADDEST of them all is the long long long long list of things I have not done, and SHOULD be doing, because I am never working hard enough and never doing it properly.

Case in point, the garden.

Yesterday, despite my 'llergies, I dutifully went out with Lil and squeezed as much joy as possible out of working in our lovely little garden.  I was charmed by the strawberries, but frustrated by Lillie's seed-planting techniques, and annoyed that no matter how diligently I remove them, WEEDS are everywhere. Harumph and grrrr.

This morning, though, with such grace, a thought arrived. This thought (thank you for your patience) is this:

 My purpose is to be a benefit to the world. And along with that, I remember dear dear dear Pema Chodron saying, comes a lowering of standards. And, I remember dear dear dear Anne Lamott saying, a gentle lifting off of the hook.

My friends, I am breathing so much easier.

So I went out to look at the garden again. Forgive the cliche, but dang if it isn't entirely miraculous! It smells good, and the spinach is growing beautifully, and even the weird purple weeds I didn't have the energy to pull yesterday look exactly right.  See?

This is why I train. This is why I am so in love with practicing. Because my head last night was not a nice place to be. It was sticky and dark and full of meanness. But because I have been practicing, because I have been recalibrating, because I have been reworking ineffective patterns, and just generally opening this shite up, this morning, when I needed it, the truth kicked in. What a HUGEness is that.

I am so pleased.

Shenpa

Happy Mother's Day!

This has become an important day for me. My daughter completely changed my life, and I have learned so much and become such a clearer person because of her.

One of the most important things I've learned  about is, dum-dum-dum: the ripple. It is an idea which I think is very related to the idea of attachment, and which the STUPENDOUS Pema Chodron calls "shenpa." (Here is her amazing article on shenpa.)

The variation on that theme that has been playing most vividly for me centers around a rippling out of ugly. Because isn't that amazing? How one person is unkind to another, even subconsciously, and then the other person feels badly and turns around and is unkind, subconsciously, to other people, who feel badly, etc. etc. And it just keeps growing. And there are SO MANY kind things we could do for each other, SO MANY small small things that would be so much better than the ugly. But we aren't always able to stop that feeling; instead we just really want to get rid of it.

As a parent, I am constantly working to stop that ripple of ugly. My daughter is so young; she has so little protection, and she is so sensitive. So she picks up on everything - on all the joy, but also all the meanness around her. And then she ripples it right out at me. And probably I was the source of the ugly at her, because I said no, for no really good reason, to that apple, or that dancing shoe, or the bringing of that toy to the store. But regardless, as the more experienced human, it is my job to try and stop the ripple, and also to show her that the ripple can stop and that this is how.

Which is really hard.

But I am practicing. And I think Pema Chodron's teaching about getting quiet, about coming back to your breath and considering the love in the world that is so abundant, is an excellent thing to work with.

And I adore that putting the world on pause for a second or two is also a most vital way to take care of myself.

So despite my occasional disdain for so-called "Hallmark" holidays, I am on board with this one, because I love a day for focusing on all the amazing gifts of motherhood, and my child, and also myself.  Happy happy day to us all!

Dreaming of the Dolphin's Song

Ooooweee. I am thinking a lot about how much is available when we pay attention to it.

I love that Regina Spektor song about sitting on the beach with someone on a gray day. It begins with my favorite lyric:  "Come and open up your folding chair next to me...."  The song is in fact, apparently, called Folding Chair.  But you see how it is about welcoming, and inviting, and also sharing.

Because we feel so lonely, but really, and I know this feels impossible WHEN you are lonely, but that loneliness is a self-imposed state. SO MANY PEOPLE are out there and wanting to love on you. Which is not at all to say that it does not feel nigh on impossible to get out there and make contact. But it is true. There is no reason to be lonely.

So that is my long thought for today.

And I am wishing to circle back to my asking for things, because recently one of the things I asked for earlier in the fall actually happened, which might make it financially feasible to do something I have really wanted to do for a long time, namely redo our kitchen.

Which has renewed my hope.

Which is a really big thing. Because it is also really easy to feel like I am not deserving, and of course because I am not deserving I get NOTHING I really want.  But ask, my friends, ask, and you may well receive.

So I am practicing giving myself things I want, because I am hoping to convince the little elf in my head who can feel so dejected and unloved that there is a lot of love out there, and a lot, A LOT, just waiting.

I am also spending a lot of time talking in a weird southern accent-hybrid. Whoever this person is, I like them a lot. They are very bold, and laugh, and much more outgoing. So I hope they hang around. They seem to get along really well with the raunchy old lady who has also been visiting.

In the spirit of these spirits, I tell you: thanks y'all for all the goodness and good times this week and let us order up another round of THAT for next week. And if you doubt this is also available to you, I highly suggest you watch this and git your groove ON.

Notice Must Be Paid

I noticed this, while hiding from my daughter to drink coffee this morning. I opened the bathroom window to better see the almost-blooming lilacs, and I noticed the angle, and the light, and the weirdly appealing blind string.  And because I was hiding with my phone, I took a picture. Here it is:

Tastiness

Let us consider our senses. And tasting in particular.

I have found these last few moments (days? weeks?) that I am a hollow-bellied beast when it comes to treats. And not "treats" like dried fruit and fresh salad, although they of course have their place. I am talking about potato-chip-hot-fudge-covered-deep-fried-snickers kind of treats. And alcohol. And smoking. And deep breaths of strongly smelling perfume.

Which is confusing, because I have been meditating. A LOT.  And I have discovered ASMR, originally from This American Life (the show on Tribes), and then I've become best fantasy friends with this woman, who has made Dutch my official favorite accent. (SIDE NOTE: Jason totally cracked me up by quoting Lord of the Flies at me when I told him about the wonders of ASMR.  "Sucks to your asmar.." he said. Which struck me as particularly funny because the original quote was about Piggy's asthma, right? Which I also used to suffer from. CIRCLES....)

So I thought meditating and focusing on my breath and all that goodness was supposed to result in me being all light and vegetarian and viceless.

Boy was I wrong.

Apparently meditating and focusing on my breath and dancing a lot results, for me, right now at least,  in a lot of nasty-talk-smart-aleckness-eating-of-ice-cream-putting-my-foot-in-my-mouth and ENJOYING it. (SIDE NOTE: Speaking of feet in mouths, the other morning Lil and I were stretching, which I love that we can do together again, and as she bent over her knees in butterfly position - we were knee-to-knee - she put my big toe in her mouth. It was a shockingly strange experience. I said, "What was that about, baby?" and she said, "It looked good." I laughed and laughed and she looked at me like I was off my nut, because of course, why not put someone else's toe in your mouth?)

And I keep thinking, OK. Let's just let this happen. As they say, does a seed make effort to sprout? Let's try a little effortlessness. Let's try a little open focus.

The weather 'round here is cooperating beautifully. This morning I said to the sky, after bowing to the dogwood, "Sky, you are really showing off today!"  And it was.

So that's what I'm thinking about here. Not willing myself to be happy. Indulging in the raunchy old lady who has come to visit.  And considering the joys of other people's feet....