Quoting Nathan Bransford, literary agent, quoting Wikipedia:
"It got me thinking of all those insanely talented writers out there in fits of despair thinking they're not any good. Could it be that they're just suffering from a little Dunning-Kruger effect?Take it away Wikipedia!
The Dunning–Kruger effect is a cognitive bias in which "people reach erroneous conclusions and make unfortunate choices but their incompetence robs them of the metacognitive ability to realize it". The unskilled therefore suffer from illusory superiority, rating their own ability as above average, much higher than in actuality; by contrast the highly skilled underrate their abilities, suffering from illusory inferiority. This leads to a perverse result where less competent people will rate their own ability higher than more competent people. It also explains why actual competence may weaken self-confidence because competent individuals falsely assume that others have an equivalent understanding. "Thus, the miscalibration of the incompetent stems from an error about the self, whereas the miscalibration of the highly competent stems from an error about others." "
I've caught myself doing this tons of times - undervaluing my own skills while over-assuming the competence and experience of others. I never knew it had a name before!! Thanks, NB, my new hero!
Showing posts with label begin writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label begin writing. Show all posts
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A Dose of Inspiration
According to Robin Sloan, world traveler and creator of cutting edge fiction, he just received a tweet that his new book is done printing and ready for shipping to customers.Using his online connections as a distribution base, Sloan was able to bypass a more traditional publishing route. Posting his writing project on Kickstarter.com yielded Sloan more than $13,000 in advance sales from committed backers.
Reminds me of the patrons and salons of the literary past.
Personally, I cannot wait to get my copies of this fresh book and see the results of a fascinating, new approach!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Valuable Advice from www.writers-review.com
Again - my writing mentor ROCKS, and rocks hard!!!!
No matter what kind of work I throw at Mike, he handles it with grace and aplomb, lasering a crystal-sharp clarity into his insights and suggestions.
The last few weeks have been so busy with vacation, work, meeting up with my oldest friends, Christmas shopping, new pets, and more, I haven't written any new fiction at all.
(So much for my Nanowrimo dreams!)
So I gave poor Mike one of my newest grant proposals to critique as this week's assignment. Of course, he's so skilled that he has a successful background in grant writing as well as fiction, non-fiction, and editing!! The suggestions he sent back were right on, and the validation that the pages make sense and truly represent the non-profit are invaluable.
Truly, if you are ever looking for GREAT writing assistance, I cannot recommend Mike's consistently excellent work highly enough!
Mike Foley at http://www.writers-review.com/
No matter what kind of work I throw at Mike, he handles it with grace and aplomb, lasering a crystal-sharp clarity into his insights and suggestions.
The last few weeks have been so busy with vacation, work, meeting up with my oldest friends, Christmas shopping, new pets, and more, I haven't written any new fiction at all.
(So much for my Nanowrimo dreams!)
So I gave poor Mike one of my newest grant proposals to critique as this week's assignment. Of course, he's so skilled that he has a successful background in grant writing as well as fiction, non-fiction, and editing!! The suggestions he sent back were right on, and the validation that the pages make sense and truly represent the non-profit are invaluable.
Truly, if you are ever looking for GREAT writing assistance, I cannot recommend Mike's consistently excellent work highly enough!
Mike Foley at http://www.writers-review.com/
Thursday, November 5, 2009
...from beneath like well water...
I've used this quote as writing advice for years, long after I'd forgotten who said it. Thanks to Red Bird and her blog for reminding me of it in its entirety.
"One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes."
-Annie Dillard, The Writing Life p.78
"One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes."
-Annie Dillard, The Writing Life p.78
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Universe of Blogs
Here's a lovely poem for today - mysterious, slightly melancholy, perfect for what I don't know to say.
Find more of poet David McKelvie's work at his blog stars sliding. Thanks to green ink for pointing him out!!
Lunar Self-Portrait
The Moon drew herself
in charcoal -- soft now,
smudged horizons,
took care to shade
her darkside, her lightside
shone in paper, thin,
removed from printer
and rippable by wind
and breeze and breath
alone -- quite believable
as cheap, as tattered.
The Moon drew herself,
revealed in portrait
her craters, mountains,
canyons present
in impressionistic
implications and swirls
of black and smear
on white and dirtied.
The Moon drew herself --
her audience halved
to those who laughed
a biting snigger
and those who looked
one second longer.
Find more of poet David McKelvie's work at his blog stars sliding. Thanks to green ink for pointing him out!!
Lunar Self-Portrait
The Moon drew herself
in charcoal -- soft now,
smudged horizons,
took care to shade
her darkside, her lightside
shone in paper, thin,
removed from printer
and rippable by wind
and breeze and breath
alone -- quite believable
as cheap, as tattered.
The Moon drew herself,
revealed in portrait
her craters, mountains,
canyons present
in impressionistic
implications and swirls
of black and smear
on white and dirtied.
The Moon drew herself --
her audience halved
to those who laughed
a biting snigger
and those who looked
one second longer.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Walk
The loose German Shepard doesn't attack me as I walk past his yard. I continue on, whole, healthy, intact, and grateful for blessings I wasn't aware of just one moment before.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Noticing
When I touch the cactus, it is calm and welcoming to my fingertip.
******
As I walk past, the purple irises whisper of death; the yellow irises bloom with hope. Everything balances.
******
As I walk past, the purple irises whisper of death; the yellow irises bloom with hope. Everything balances.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Just Do It
Feminist critic Judith Butler says, "Gender is performative." That's one of my favorite quotes. It deepens the more you think about it.
I would say that lots of things are performative. Happiness, for one. Also writing.
After a tumultuous couple of months, I just enjoyed the best Spring Break ever with my family. We went to three Science Museums, the beach, Palm Springs, Los Angeles and our beloved San Diego. I don't know if I can express the contentment I experienced lying in the white bed of our little inn, looking past the white ruffled curtains at the streaming early sunshine and listening to the sounds of traffic from the street below. Knowing that in a few minutes I would be strolling with my family to a cafe to get fresh baked bread and a steaming mocha. Everything in my life seems to be falling into place in such a happy, fulfilling way.
Because happiness is performative.
I would say that lots of things are performative. Happiness, for one. Also writing.
After a tumultuous couple of months, I just enjoyed the best Spring Break ever with my family. We went to three Science Museums, the beach, Palm Springs, Los Angeles and our beloved San Diego. I don't know if I can express the contentment I experienced lying in the white bed of our little inn, looking past the white ruffled curtains at the streaming early sunshine and listening to the sounds of traffic from the street below. Knowing that in a few minutes I would be strolling with my family to a cafe to get fresh baked bread and a steaming mocha. Everything in my life seems to be falling into place in such a happy, fulfilling way.
Because happiness is performative.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
A Small Miracle
While I was holed away in my study the other night, making my way through my workload (yes, I was actually working despite my whining!) and complaining about my therapist, my wonderful husband was being an extraordinary father. He and the girls were in the kitchen, making cookies from a recipe we found in a library book. As I typed, the rattle of pans and the clinking of spoons mixed with their chattering and floated in to soothe me.
I just wanted to tell you in the interest of balance. It's easy to get to a place of venting or complaining, but life is always more rich and complex than that alone. And more happy.
I finished my work and was rewarded with oatmeal-chocolate rich warm cookies and cold milk. I am so incredibly lucky!! and grateful!!
The recipe follows below if you want to try it out at home :)
Sophie’s Cookies
From the book
Believing Sophie
By Hazel Hutchins
Cream together:
1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
Mix in:
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
Lastly add:
2 cups rolled oats
1 overflowing cup of M&Ms
Stir until well mixed.
The dough may be crumbly, but if you use your hands it will form easily into balls. For large cookies, the balls should be golf-ball sized or bigger. Smaller cookies are also very good. Set cookie balls on a greased cookie sheet and flatten them gently with your fingers to a nice cookie thickness. Bake at the top of the oven at 350 degrees F for 10-12 minutes until a pale golden brown. They are best when cooked through but not overcooked or hard.
Makes at least 1 dozen large or 3 dozen small cookies. Enjoy!
I just wanted to tell you in the interest of balance. It's easy to get to a place of venting or complaining, but life is always more rich and complex than that alone. And more happy.
I finished my work and was rewarded with oatmeal-chocolate rich warm cookies and cold milk. I am so incredibly lucky!! and grateful!!
The recipe follows below if you want to try it out at home :)
Sophie’s Cookies
From the book
Believing Sophie
By Hazel Hutchins
Cream together:
1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
Mix in:
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
Lastly add:
2 cups rolled oats
1 overflowing cup of M&Ms
Stir until well mixed.
The dough may be crumbly, but if you use your hands it will form easily into balls. For large cookies, the balls should be golf-ball sized or bigger. Smaller cookies are also very good. Set cookie balls on a greased cookie sheet and flatten them gently with your fingers to a nice cookie thickness. Bake at the top of the oven at 350 degrees F for 10-12 minutes until a pale golden brown. They are best when cooked through but not overcooked or hard.
Makes at least 1 dozen large or 3 dozen small cookies. Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Writer's Reluctance
Because it's not Block, really. It's just dragging my feet. Wishing I didn't have to write what I do, and preferring either to write something else or to go and take a nap. Or to go outside in the sunshine where all of my on-vacation family is gathered in the street with the neighbors, having nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon than shoot-the-breeze. Apparently we're a neighborhood filled with people working on flexible schedules!
But I do have to write.
This grant for this organization. It's my first draft, and it's every bit as daunting as sitting down to write a 15 page paper for a class without having done enough research or having a clear topic. Which is pretty much how I always used to write my papers and I made it through college just fine. Got myself all the way to here. Where ironically I use pretty much the same process.
I don't honestly know which I prefer - the grade or the pay. Money is useful and it makes me a "professional." But the clean clarity of that letter on the front page of your writing was so crisp and final. You either did it well or you didn't, and it was over. No one was counting on your description of their work to get them the money that they need to stay in business.
Aarrgghh.
But I do have to write.
This grant for this organization. It's my first draft, and it's every bit as daunting as sitting down to write a 15 page paper for a class without having done enough research or having a clear topic. Which is pretty much how I always used to write my papers and I made it through college just fine. Got myself all the way to here. Where ironically I use pretty much the same process.
I don't honestly know which I prefer - the grade or the pay. Money is useful and it makes me a "professional." But the clean clarity of that letter on the front page of your writing was so crisp and final. You either did it well or you didn't, and it was over. No one was counting on your description of their work to get them the money that they need to stay in business.
Aarrgghh.
Part of the distraction is sitting right here, asking me charming questions about renting her favorite movies from Blockbuster and telling me what her Dad is doing (standing out front, I know that already.) Yes, both kids and husband are on Spring Break, and every time I come close to creating a mood of concentration or flow, someone pops in to ask me something or to complain. My youngest even managed to get bitten by one of our dogs - all a mistake and it didn't break the skin - but still enough drama that I had to leave the keyboard. When they are all at school, I am often lonely, but it IS deliciously quiet and still here in the house.
This might be about the best I can do - for now.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Pose of the Day - Dandasana (Staff Pose)
We spent a good portion of the weekend focusing on Dandasana, as the first active seated pose in the Ashtanga Yoga series.
It's easy and very complex at the same time. It's also great to balance all of our chair sitting. It's a handy pose to learn because you can do it almost anywhere, in any clothing, and it's not very noticeable. It's perfect to sneak into your workday or while watching TV.
Sit comfortably on the floor. You don't even need a mat but being barefoot is good. Stretch your legs out in front of you and bring them pressing into each other.
Ground your sitbones firmly into the floor and let the backs of your legs extend to push your heels away from you. Now bring your feet active, halfway between pointed and fully flexed. Let space spread your toes apart.
Firm your thighs and the tops of your knees. If you have shorts on, you'll actually be able to see your kneecaps firm. Roll your legs inward toward each other and press the backs of your legs toward the floor, pressing your inner knees toward the floor. (If your hamstrings are tight, you might not touch the floor. That's fine. Just get the feeling of that pressing action only to the edge of discomfort and not past it into discomfort or pain. If it hurts, breathe and ease back a fraction!)
Bring your hands flat on the floor alongside your body. Press through your hands to lift your torso and roll your shoulders back and down from your ears. Let your sacrum tilt up through your back toward your navel. This will lift your chest and heart.
Relax your neck and bring your chin gently forward and halfway down to your chest. Imagine creating a little catcher's mitt out of the curve of your throat. (If you care, that's activating Jalandhara Bandha, or throat lock position.) As you breathe, feel the energy move up your spine into that mitt and then back down your spine to the ground.
Up and down. Breathe in and out.
That's Dandasana.
It's easy and very complex at the same time. It's also great to balance all of our chair sitting. It's a handy pose to learn because you can do it almost anywhere, in any clothing, and it's not very noticeable. It's perfect to sneak into your workday or while watching TV.
Sit comfortably on the floor. You don't even need a mat but being barefoot is good. Stretch your legs out in front of you and bring them pressing into each other.
Ground your sitbones firmly into the floor and let the backs of your legs extend to push your heels away from you. Now bring your feet active, halfway between pointed and fully flexed. Let space spread your toes apart.
Firm your thighs and the tops of your knees. If you have shorts on, you'll actually be able to see your kneecaps firm. Roll your legs inward toward each other and press the backs of your legs toward the floor, pressing your inner knees toward the floor. (If your hamstrings are tight, you might not touch the floor. That's fine. Just get the feeling of that pressing action only to the edge of discomfort and not past it into discomfort or pain. If it hurts, breathe and ease back a fraction!)
Bring your hands flat on the floor alongside your body. Press through your hands to lift your torso and roll your shoulders back and down from your ears. Let your sacrum tilt up through your back toward your navel. This will lift your chest and heart.
Relax your neck and bring your chin gently forward and halfway down to your chest. Imagine creating a little catcher's mitt out of the curve of your throat. (If you care, that's activating Jalandhara Bandha, or throat lock position.) As you breathe, feel the energy move up your spine into that mitt and then back down your spine to the ground.
Up and down. Breathe in and out.
That's Dandasana.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Morning
On today's walk, a robin chirrups in the yucca. This morning my daughters asked when spring would start. Looks like it has.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Writing
I've been doing a lot of functional writing lately. Which is to say, writing that serves the explicit purpose of being my job. Which is to say non-fiction. Which isn't to say that writing which doesn't connect to my job isn't functional.
Because it is.
All writing serves the purpose of connecting us - with others, with creativity, with the self. Sometimes I think the writing without "purpose" is the most important of all.
Reminds me of a quote I used to have posted in my classroom. "Writing should serve as the axe for the frozen sea within." I think that's it. I think it's Kafka. Feel free to check me.
Good writing to you all!
Because it is.
All writing serves the purpose of connecting us - with others, with creativity, with the self. Sometimes I think the writing without "purpose" is the most important of all.
Reminds me of a quote I used to have posted in my classroom. "Writing should serve as the axe for the frozen sea within." I think that's it. I think it's Kafka. Feel free to check me.
Good writing to you all!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
It's Probably Something Good
I round the corner and drive past the vivid
orange warning "Tree Work Ahead."
I wonder what it is that the trees are working on?
Friday, January 23, 2009
Perfect Wholeness
I see a week has passed since last I posted.
Two things are simultaneously dancing about in my life and busying my days. The first is unqualifiedly positive. I've been blessed with quite a chunk of work for the near future. With each page, I evolve further into this new professional I am becoming.
Working through a draft proposal with my newest client yesterday, I was shocked by how he just wasn't getting it. He and I attended the same grantwriting workshop, where we met. He and I have the same useful textbook for reference. But it makes perfect sense to me and not to him. Weird.
Because I can, it always shocks me that other people either can't write or don't like to write. I just assume that people have basically the same skills that I have. So. Makes me feel good that I can be useful.
Difficulty has also shadowed the last few weeks. Several friends have had challenging situations crop up, and one is facing a severe, ongoing illness. He's been in and out of hospitals and bounced around in an exhausting merry-go-round of care. Doesn't help matters that he's desperately poor. Doesn't help that our social support systems are full of holes. Doesn't help that his primary supporters, his parents, are in their late 70s and exhausted. Doesn't help that my husband has some strong, legitimate resistance to me helping him.
But so it is. Those are the deterrents, but I'm focusing rather steadfastly on the positives. With balance, everything comes.
In class, we chant this mantra of Perfect Wholeness, also published in February's issue of Yoga Journal:
Two things are simultaneously dancing about in my life and busying my days. The first is unqualifiedly positive. I've been blessed with quite a chunk of work for the near future. With each page, I evolve further into this new professional I am becoming.
Working through a draft proposal with my newest client yesterday, I was shocked by how he just wasn't getting it. He and I attended the same grantwriting workshop, where we met. He and I have the same useful textbook for reference. But it makes perfect sense to me and not to him. Weird.
Because I can, it always shocks me that other people either can't write or don't like to write. I just assume that people have basically the same skills that I have. So. Makes me feel good that I can be useful.
Difficulty has also shadowed the last few weeks. Several friends have had challenging situations crop up, and one is facing a severe, ongoing illness. He's been in and out of hospitals and bounced around in an exhausting merry-go-round of care. Doesn't help matters that he's desperately poor. Doesn't help that our social support systems are full of holes. Doesn't help that his primary supporters, his parents, are in their late 70s and exhausted. Doesn't help that my husband has some strong, legitimate resistance to me helping him.
But so it is. Those are the deterrents, but I'm focusing rather steadfastly on the positives. With balance, everything comes.
In class, we chant this mantra of Perfect Wholeness, also published in February's issue of Yoga Journal:
Om Purnam Adah Purnam Idam
Purnat Purnam Udachyate
Purnasya Purnam Adaya
Purnam Evavashishyate
Om. This is complete and perfect. That is complete and perfect.
From perfect wholeness, perfect wholeness springs.
If the perfect is taken from the perfect, perfect wholeness still remains.
So it is.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Poised
I'm in that weird expectant place where I'm just about to write something. You know?
Maybe a grant proposal or maybe a story. I feel very quiet and completely restless at the same time, and I'm just staying here, by the keyboard, and waiting to see what will come up.
(Although I'm trying to lean towards the proposal as I've promised to have at least two done by tomorrow.)
Maybe a grant proposal or maybe a story. I feel very quiet and completely restless at the same time, and I'm just staying here, by the keyboard, and waiting to see what will come up.
(Although I'm trying to lean towards the proposal as I've promised to have at least two done by tomorrow.)
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Two Items
One - Unbelievably, it IS actually possible for me to boil dry a tea kettle - even while it is steadily whistling. I was in the thick of writing and slowly became aware that the annoying background noise had stopped. UH OH! I thought, leaping from my chair to find a red-hot stove awaiting me.
Two - Yesterday, my husband finally let me make Thyme Tea for him! And he drank it!! (Although I think he tried to dump it out when I wasn't looking, but I was watching him like a hawk.)
He came home complaining of a headache. Instantly, I made The Offer. "How about some nice Thyme Tea?" I cajoled sweetly. "That should make it go away." (Yes, I know that those of you in even the twentieth century use this strange stuff called Tylenol, but not me. Nope, I'm a-gonna make my remedies out of Nature.)
I put two spoonfuls of black tea leaves in a pan of boiling water, Indian-style, and added a healthy sprig of Thyme and one of Rosemary for good measure (because Rosemary is an extremely potent, life-filled herb. Also it tastes delicious in roasted or fried potatoes.) Then I added milk and sugar because that's how I always make my tea.
It actually wasn't bad. The aroma and flavors were rendolent of a delicious stuffing, with the yeasty sweetness balanced by the savory spices.
It didn't make his headache go away. Darn. I'll have to keep experimenting until I find out what Thyme is good for (besides maybe a delicious bruschetta). Still it was a lot of fun.
Poor S gulped and got a bit pale when I started cackling with glee and rubbing my hands together while I stirred. But it's an herb right? People eat it all the time. It's not like it's some toxic shrub picked at random from the yard.
I'm telling you, the man is long-suffering. I'm sure he's had many, many moments where he would have preferred to be done with me and my fanatical, unwavering insistences on things. But I'm just so darn interesting to be around. Poor guy - seems to be stuck with me.
Two - Yesterday, my husband finally let me make Thyme Tea for him! And he drank it!! (Although I think he tried to dump it out when I wasn't looking, but I was watching him like a hawk.)
He came home complaining of a headache. Instantly, I made The Offer. "How about some nice Thyme Tea?" I cajoled sweetly. "That should make it go away." (Yes, I know that those of you in even the twentieth century use this strange stuff called Tylenol, but not me. Nope, I'm a-gonna make my remedies out of Nature.)
I put two spoonfuls of black tea leaves in a pan of boiling water, Indian-style, and added a healthy sprig of Thyme and one of Rosemary for good measure (because Rosemary is an extremely potent, life-filled herb. Also it tastes delicious in roasted or fried potatoes.) Then I added milk and sugar because that's how I always make my tea.
It actually wasn't bad. The aroma and flavors were rendolent of a delicious stuffing, with the yeasty sweetness balanced by the savory spices.
It didn't make his headache go away. Darn. I'll have to keep experimenting until I find out what Thyme is good for (besides maybe a delicious bruschetta). Still it was a lot of fun.
Poor S gulped and got a bit pale when I started cackling with glee and rubbing my hands together while I stirred. But it's an herb right? People eat it all the time. It's not like it's some toxic shrub picked at random from the yard.
I'm telling you, the man is long-suffering. I'm sure he's had many, many moments where he would have preferred to be done with me and my fanatical, unwavering insistences on things. But I'm just so darn interesting to be around. Poor guy - seems to be stuck with me.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Therapy and Happiness
Where shall I start?
I enter my therapist's office (come on, we've already talked about this) and kick off my shoes as is my habit. We go through the formalities of him offering coffee and me refusing as I settle onto his sagging leather couch in sukhasana (easy crossed leg pose). I take a deep breath.
"Hmm. I'm feeling anxious," I share. "That's interesting."
"Why do you think that is?" T asks. He's well practiced at his role.
"I think it's a conditioned response to this environment." My gesture takes in the painting of the muddy mountain river, the stuffed gorillas on the empty chair, the plastic statue of Freud next to the horrible decades-old brass lamp. "Plus there's the whole context of therapy, isn't there?" I pause and think. "I spend so much of my time in other contexts, like studying yoga, that this one feels very different."
I elaborate, "Therapy presupposes a lot, doesn't it? Just by walking in the door, it supposes that I have problems and that you have answers. I'm deficient somehow, or flawed, and you will give me what I need to be fixed. Also there's whole cultural concepts of right and wrong, good and bad, knowledge and ignorance. It invokes hierarchy, patriarchy, and authority. It stirs the part of me that wants to get the "right" answers, the A on the test, and win approval."
"Are you doing that?" he asks.
"No." I'm quite sure. "If I were trying to win at therapy, we would have begun very differently. I could easily be taking us down the road of here-was-my-problem-this-week. " I sigh. "But I just don't have enough pathology for that do I? We're doing something quite different, more relational, less fixed."
I pause and smile at T, acknowledging that most clients don't begin at this level. "Isn't this a great start? We're taking apart the whole structure of what you do with your life within the first five minutes. Didn't you miss me over vacation?"
******
During his holiday visit, my beloved brother offered a concerned observation. "You know, Sis, you're clearly unhappy."
I went through all the same reactions you would. First I was in denial. What does he mean I'm not happy? I AM happy. Then I got defensive. Well, how does he know? Is he the happiness expert? He shouldn't judge my life.
Then I went with his assessment and the panic set in. Oh my God. I'm not happy. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my life? I must fix it immediately!
Of course, all of this occurred in split seconds while our outward conversation moved to some other topic.
It stayed with me though, niggling in my mind. Only about two days later did realization slowly creep over me, like the sun sliding through a morning window.
Who says that we should be happy? What's wrong with being unhappy?
In my case this particularly makes sense. I've had some horribly difficult experiences over the last few years. My life holds the possibility for tremendous tumult. Why should I expect myself to feel happy at all? Being unhappy is probably the only sane response actually.
Of course, the moment you give yourself permission to be unhappy and stop striving so hard for happiness, you relax. Then you notice that actually you're happy some of the time. In my case, a lot of the time. Just not all the time. My brother caught me in the frantic throes of holiday-guest-family interactions in an unhappy moment.
So what?
I mention this because an opportunity for this sort of acceptance arose again this afternoon.
Arriving home from errands, I stepped out onto my driveway and glanced up. The sun was streaming through the blue sky. The trees were perfect tree-green and waving in a breeze. This absolute gorgeousness stopped me in my tracks and convinced me to sit down on the brick retaining wall to soak it in.
I'm so blessed in this moment, I thought as contentment washed over me. Today I am happy. I'm feeling strong and determined. I'm feeling hopeful and loving. I feel good. Everything feels like it's heading towards balance and positive energy.
Instantly, I got clingy. How can I keep things stable like this?
Then I caught myself. Who says things need to be stable? I don't have to stay happy. I don't always have to be strong and content. I can simply be whatever I am in that moment. Life will cycle. It is inevitable; fighting that by trying to hold on to any emotional state is as ridiculous as trying to stop the sun from moving.
Pema Chodroen, a Buddhist teacher, explains that each moment is fresh, an awakening of realization. Even after decades of meditation practice, she still is learning to accept the awakening of each moment.
The state of life is flow and change. When we try to "create ground", to find something firm to hold on to all we do is create tremendous suffering. I think we all know this, but still we fight it. For some reason, the flow of reality terrifies us all, even those among us who are more familiar with it.
My happiness today comes from my willingness to be accepting - of my true self, of my desires, of my values, of others, and of the nature of life.
I enter my therapist's office (come on, we've already talked about this) and kick off my shoes as is my habit. We go through the formalities of him offering coffee and me refusing as I settle onto his sagging leather couch in sukhasana (easy crossed leg pose). I take a deep breath.
"Hmm. I'm feeling anxious," I share. "That's interesting."
"Why do you think that is?" T asks. He's well practiced at his role.
"I think it's a conditioned response to this environment." My gesture takes in the painting of the muddy mountain river, the stuffed gorillas on the empty chair, the plastic statue of Freud next to the horrible decades-old brass lamp. "Plus there's the whole context of therapy, isn't there?" I pause and think. "I spend so much of my time in other contexts, like studying yoga, that this one feels very different."
I elaborate, "Therapy presupposes a lot, doesn't it? Just by walking in the door, it supposes that I have problems and that you have answers. I'm deficient somehow, or flawed, and you will give me what I need to be fixed. Also there's whole cultural concepts of right and wrong, good and bad, knowledge and ignorance. It invokes hierarchy, patriarchy, and authority. It stirs the part of me that wants to get the "right" answers, the A on the test, and win approval."
"Are you doing that?" he asks.
"No." I'm quite sure. "If I were trying to win at therapy, we would have begun very differently. I could easily be taking us down the road of here-was-my-problem-this-week. " I sigh. "But I just don't have enough pathology for that do I? We're doing something quite different, more relational, less fixed."
I pause and smile at T, acknowledging that most clients don't begin at this level. "Isn't this a great start? We're taking apart the whole structure of what you do with your life within the first five minutes. Didn't you miss me over vacation?"
******
During his holiday visit, my beloved brother offered a concerned observation. "You know, Sis, you're clearly unhappy."
I went through all the same reactions you would. First I was in denial. What does he mean I'm not happy? I AM happy. Then I got defensive. Well, how does he know? Is he the happiness expert? He shouldn't judge my life.
Then I went with his assessment and the panic set in. Oh my God. I'm not happy. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with my life? I must fix it immediately!
Of course, all of this occurred in split seconds while our outward conversation moved to some other topic.
It stayed with me though, niggling in my mind. Only about two days later did realization slowly creep over me, like the sun sliding through a morning window.
Who says that we should be happy? What's wrong with being unhappy?
In my case this particularly makes sense. I've had some horribly difficult experiences over the last few years. My life holds the possibility for tremendous tumult. Why should I expect myself to feel happy at all? Being unhappy is probably the only sane response actually.
Of course, the moment you give yourself permission to be unhappy and stop striving so hard for happiness, you relax. Then you notice that actually you're happy some of the time. In my case, a lot of the time. Just not all the time. My brother caught me in the frantic throes of holiday-guest-family interactions in an unhappy moment.
So what?
I mention this because an opportunity for this sort of acceptance arose again this afternoon.
Arriving home from errands, I stepped out onto my driveway and glanced up. The sun was streaming through the blue sky. The trees were perfect tree-green and waving in a breeze. This absolute gorgeousness stopped me in my tracks and convinced me to sit down on the brick retaining wall to soak it in.
I'm so blessed in this moment, I thought as contentment washed over me. Today I am happy. I'm feeling strong and determined. I'm feeling hopeful and loving. I feel good. Everything feels like it's heading towards balance and positive energy.
Instantly, I got clingy. How can I keep things stable like this?
Then I caught myself. Who says things need to be stable? I don't have to stay happy. I don't always have to be strong and content. I can simply be whatever I am in that moment. Life will cycle. It is inevitable; fighting that by trying to hold on to any emotional state is as ridiculous as trying to stop the sun from moving.
Pema Chodroen, a Buddhist teacher, explains that each moment is fresh, an awakening of realization. Even after decades of meditation practice, she still is learning to accept the awakening of each moment.
The state of life is flow and change. When we try to "create ground", to find something firm to hold on to all we do is create tremendous suffering. I think we all know this, but still we fight it. For some reason, the flow of reality terrifies us all, even those among us who are more familiar with it.
My happiness today comes from my willingness to be accepting - of my true self, of my desires, of my values, of others, and of the nature of life.
Yoga class today ended with my favorite benediction:
May our hearts crack open with love
May we be awakened to our true natures
May we be healed
May we be a source of healing to all beings
Namaste
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
A New Year Starts
Monday morning. A new start to a fresh week. A day of rebirth. Time to put the ultimate absorption of the holidays behind us and head forward into an unwritten year.
I like beginnings. They’re hopeful and I, a generally hopeful person, feel at home with that energy. I’m not that keen on endings, and transitions are tough, but give me a good, fresh start any day of the week. I love the reflective process of looking back to see where I’ve been and then looking ahead to see where I might want to go.
I’ve even come to love the surprise of life, the dreadful, wonderful inexplicableness of it. Even as I make my plans, I know that they’re likely to go awry in ways I can hardly imagine. I know from experience that I am quite capable of achieving everything I set as a true intention, but in an unexpected, slightly warped way. That’s how wishes always come true in the fairy tales, isn’t it? You have to be careful what you wish, and how you wish, because when it comes true the results are sure to be something you didn’t bother to fully conceive.
For example, I should have been writing this yesterday, if not last week. I thought I would be. But my husband was able to leave work early. Consequently all my good intentions of working went out the window. So it is. I enjoyed the extra vacation time with him immensely.
My husband asks me repeatedly why I don’t write about him more often. It’s complicated. Really, that says it all. I simply don’t know what to write, how to say the incredible mixture of emotions he evokes. He and I go so far back in each other’s lives that nothing between us is simple or clear or clean. We have love and anger, devotion and insecurity, faith and disappointment, often, like yesterday, all in just a few hours. I suppose I think maybe he doesn’t really want me to write what I might say, and I may not want to share it with the world. That part of my life tends to be private and guarded.
One of my intentions for 2009 is to embrace yoga more fully. That means more of the physical, of course, a more devoted practice of asanas. But I’ve also found myself focused on yogic spiritual principles – the Yamas and Niyamas. Sauca and Satya float at the surface of my mind – purity and truthtelling. I’ve done a lot of truthtelling over the last few years, and more over the last few weeks than anyone would expect. I seem to be burdened in life with an extreme need to be open and truthful with others, even while knowing that such a goal is a near impossibility because Truth as we think of it hardly exists. If it does, it certainly doesn’t exist in a way that we, with our small and active biologically driven minds and incredibly strong egos can access easily. So ironically, I live my life trying to respect Truth that I don’t even believe in. Yeah, that’s me.
Anyway, at this point in time, my life is as truthful and as open as I’ve been able to make it. That’s not easy for me (or anyone probably). Like most of us, I learned that lying and covering up unpleasant aspects of life would make everything easier. But I’m a terrible liar. I just don’t believe in its energy. Long term, secrets and lies eat your purity away. The insidious energy of the concealed becomes a potent obstacle. Thus.
Thus. At this point, I stand open and honest. For all my flaws of selfishness, stubbornness, inconsideration, insecurity (I could go on, but you get the idea), at least I honor others, Life and God by striving to adhere to a moral code. I want a foundation upon which I will build the rest of my life. I refuse to build that foundation out of shadows and sand.
Teacher trainer S interprets the Yoga Sutras for our class. He says that if something you’re doing isn’t working, you should do the Opposite. A very good idea, and one that makes strong intuitive sense to me. If only I could figure out which parts of what I’m doing don’t work, and then figure out exactly WHAT the opposite is. Then I would do it.
I like beginnings. They’re hopeful and I, a generally hopeful person, feel at home with that energy. I’m not that keen on endings, and transitions are tough, but give me a good, fresh start any day of the week. I love the reflective process of looking back to see where I’ve been and then looking ahead to see where I might want to go.
I’ve even come to love the surprise of life, the dreadful, wonderful inexplicableness of it. Even as I make my plans, I know that they’re likely to go awry in ways I can hardly imagine. I know from experience that I am quite capable of achieving everything I set as a true intention, but in an unexpected, slightly warped way. That’s how wishes always come true in the fairy tales, isn’t it? You have to be careful what you wish, and how you wish, because when it comes true the results are sure to be something you didn’t bother to fully conceive.
For example, I should have been writing this yesterday, if not last week. I thought I would be. But my husband was able to leave work early. Consequently all my good intentions of working went out the window. So it is. I enjoyed the extra vacation time with him immensely.
My husband asks me repeatedly why I don’t write about him more often. It’s complicated. Really, that says it all. I simply don’t know what to write, how to say the incredible mixture of emotions he evokes. He and I go so far back in each other’s lives that nothing between us is simple or clear or clean. We have love and anger, devotion and insecurity, faith and disappointment, often, like yesterday, all in just a few hours. I suppose I think maybe he doesn’t really want me to write what I might say, and I may not want to share it with the world. That part of my life tends to be private and guarded.
One of my intentions for 2009 is to embrace yoga more fully. That means more of the physical, of course, a more devoted practice of asanas. But I’ve also found myself focused on yogic spiritual principles – the Yamas and Niyamas. Sauca and Satya float at the surface of my mind – purity and truthtelling. I’ve done a lot of truthtelling over the last few years, and more over the last few weeks than anyone would expect. I seem to be burdened in life with an extreme need to be open and truthful with others, even while knowing that such a goal is a near impossibility because Truth as we think of it hardly exists. If it does, it certainly doesn’t exist in a way that we, with our small and active biologically driven minds and incredibly strong egos can access easily. So ironically, I live my life trying to respect Truth that I don’t even believe in. Yeah, that’s me.
Anyway, at this point in time, my life is as truthful and as open as I’ve been able to make it. That’s not easy for me (or anyone probably). Like most of us, I learned that lying and covering up unpleasant aspects of life would make everything easier. But I’m a terrible liar. I just don’t believe in its energy. Long term, secrets and lies eat your purity away. The insidious energy of the concealed becomes a potent obstacle. Thus.
Thus. At this point, I stand open and honest. For all my flaws of selfishness, stubbornness, inconsideration, insecurity (I could go on, but you get the idea), at least I honor others, Life and God by striving to adhere to a moral code. I want a foundation upon which I will build the rest of my life. I refuse to build that foundation out of shadows and sand.
Teacher trainer S interprets the Yoga Sutras for our class. He says that if something you’re doing isn’t working, you should do the Opposite. A very good idea, and one that makes strong intuitive sense to me. If only I could figure out which parts of what I’m doing don’t work, and then figure out exactly WHAT the opposite is. Then I would do it.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Experimental
If I were going to write something here, something meaningful, something deep, what would I say? Would I look from my window at the rain-splattered yard and notice the curious lift of my dog's head? Her fawn hair is slicked in wet stripes against her cheeks, and she twists her muzzle here and there, standing calm, scenting the wind to see where she will go next.
I think my yard matters. It matters to me. But do you care about my yard and the view from my window? How do I go about transporting the content of my small space into yours? How do the words that I spill across your screen make any difference to your dog, in your house, with your own pattern of sun and wind, or rain and snow gathering outside your own front door?
Why am I writing so predominantly in questions? Did you miss my writing over the weekend? If my writing here stops, will you wonder where I went? Or will you merely move on to reading the next blog on your list before you return to your workaday world of fixing meals and paying bills?
I like writing in the second person. But why? I talk to you, but I don't know you really. Yet the second person suggests that I do, that somehow we are conversing, that my words are opening a path between us that you did not realize existed until this moment of reading them.
Do you see what I am saying?
This is writing that wants to be a poem. This is writing that wants to say something. Shadow moth memories of other poems I have read circle through my mind, brushing their luminescent wings among my thoughts with a whisper I can almost hear. This is what you will come back to, says Margaret Atwood. This is where you begin. This is the way the world ends, TS Eliot wrote, but that's not what I'm saying in the slightest, merely copying his rhythm that my thoughts suggest to me.
I think my yard matters. It matters to me. But do you care about my yard and the view from my window? How do I go about transporting the content of my small space into yours? How do the words that I spill across your screen make any difference to your dog, in your house, with your own pattern of sun and wind, or rain and snow gathering outside your own front door?
Why am I writing so predominantly in questions? Did you miss my writing over the weekend? If my writing here stops, will you wonder where I went? Or will you merely move on to reading the next blog on your list before you return to your workaday world of fixing meals and paying bills?
I like writing in the second person. But why? I talk to you, but I don't know you really. Yet the second person suggests that I do, that somehow we are conversing, that my words are opening a path between us that you did not realize existed until this moment of reading them.
Do you see what I am saying?
This is writing that wants to be a poem. This is writing that wants to say something. Shadow moth memories of other poems I have read circle through my mind, brushing their luminescent wings among my thoughts with a whisper I can almost hear. This is what you will come back to, says Margaret Atwood. This is where you begin. This is the way the world ends, TS Eliot wrote, but that's not what I'm saying in the slightest, merely copying his rhythm that my thoughts suggest to me.
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