This flies in the face of what I've believed for years. I thought that a feeling of certainty meant I was on the right track, but I'm beginning to think I was wrong. 

I've been categorically unsuccessful at guiding myself to happiness and contentment for years, despite many methodical (and less than methodical) plans and schemes. I'm smart.  I'm a good problem solver.  I should be able to find the best path, right?

Not so much. In recovery, my work is not to uncover the right path. My job is to be fully present in this moment, to develop and nurture my connection with a higher power, to do a daily personal inventory, and to take the steps that my higher power lays out in front of me one after the other.

If I do those things, I often find myself in places that make little sense. But they are usually places that feel… somehow… okay. If I had made my own way, things would make sense.  I would know what happened and how I got there.  When I let go and let something greater than myself carve out my path, it's a bit disorienting. But it's so much richer than the security of being able to tie together all the pieces.

How much more delightful life is when it doesn't make sense!  Sense is boring.  Sense gives me security, but it's bland.

Interestingly, when I look back on those moments of disorientation, they make sense. They make a beautiful sense. That is comfort enough for me.

This past month has been one of looking inward and staying connected with HP (my higher power).  I've managed to integrate mindfulness into my daily habits better than ever before. 

I've noticed that I stop more frequently throughout my days, letting questions come up like, "Why am I doing this?  Is this what I should be doing? How do I feel right now?"  Time and time again, the answer is that I feel good in the moment.  I feel good.  I feel secure.  And that's all that matters. I move on, through the thoughts, just like I do during meditation.

I can feel confused and unsure but also good.  I can have no idea where I'm going or why I'm doing what I'm doing and still know I'm doing the right thing.

It has taken many years to get more familiar with this feeling.  I call it being "in the pocket." When I'm in flow and feel wholly safe and loved, I'm "in the pocket."  I live for that feeling.  It makes everything and everywhere safe.  I'm being carried through circumstances that make little sense to me, but I am on the path I'm supposed to be on. The only way to get off-track is to get out of touch with HP.

I might ask:  Why am I in this class?  Why am I taking this drive?  Why did I decide to walk outside?  Why am I calling this person?  Why am I choosing to sit and do nothing when I have 20 things I could be doing?  Why am I drawing this picture?  Why am I sitting down at the piano?

The answers don't matter.  What matters is that I really live those moments.  And if I do, I'll enjoy every piece of my life… and also move out of each piece at just the right time.

What my brain doesn't seem to realize is that these guilt-ridden thoughts cause other issues. The berating motivates me, but in the end, I feel worse about myself and want to rebel against those thoughts.

The same thing goes for food-related thoughts. Food has historically soothed me, so my mind brings up thoughts of food to comfort me in difficult times.  Little does my brain know that this is creating an unhealthy dependence on a single coping mechanism: food.

In the past, I thought I needed to pay attention to every thought I had, convinced that every thought had some nugget of truth or wisdom that I needed to learn from.  Even if the thought was clearly negative and hurtful, like, "Look what I've done by eating all this food.  My body is not as attractive as it was five months ago," I was convinced that I needed to mine these belittling thoughts for virtue.  The logic goes: Perhaps I need to hear how ugly I am to feel motivated to eat more carefully. The only way I will change how I behave with food is by feeling bad about what I've done in the past. 

It took many years to realize that not every thought has virtue—that I can choose to move past thoughts that are not helpful or supportive. What I have learned is that I do not miss out on life lessons by disregarding these thoughts. Instead, my brain learns to rephrase the thoughts so that they motivate and support me. "Look at my ugly body" can go away.  "How can I love my body?" will come up soon after.

My brain already knows both negative and positive ways to frame thoughts. By disregarding the negative, hurtful thoughts, I train my brain to offer up more supportive, kind thoughts. The positive thoughts are no less motivating than the negative ones.  In fact, positive thoughts provide more long-term motivation because they don't come with the self-sabotaging side effects of the negative thoughts.

I get to choose not to guilt myself into action.  A while ago, I challenged myself to see if I could lead a life I was proud of without guilt.  My family has historically been driven by guilt. My great-grandmother guilted my grandmother. My grandmother guilted my mother into action.  And my mother guilted me. None of them realized what they were doing.  Now, I tend to guilt myself.  Fortunately, I am aware of the pattern and can escape it.  I can live a brilliant life without guilt-based motivation. I hypothesize that if I move past guilt-based thoughts and only hold onto non-guilty thoughts, my brain will make more non-guilty thoughts. I will still achieve all the things I once believed I needed guilt to achieve. (This pattern of thinking is a project I work on daily.)

This isn't to say that I should ignore any thought that says something negative about me.  Mostly, I concentrate on moving past thoughts that tend to guilt me.  Thoughts like, "I have a very low tolerance for X person," or, "I tend to seek attention at the expense of others," don't send me on a guilt trip.  I can accept those observations and ask questions like, "What in me is irritated by X person?" or, "What do I like about attention?" Those thoughts are not the same as, "X person probably hates me," or, "I want too much attention."  Those thoughts judge me and the people around me.  They may hold some truths for me, but I don't need to pay attention to them.  If I move past the negative thoughts, positive thoughts with the same message will come through. I don't need to worry that I'm missing out on a major life lesson.  My brain knows how to rephrase its thoughts.  I just have to train it to pick more positive phrasings.

I'm excited to finally relax a little more. Guilt leads me to food, because food blocks out the guilty feelings. Without guilt, it's easier to make healthy choices based on factors outside of emotional avoidance.  We don't have to pay attention to negative thoughts, even if we think they might be helpful.  Our brains are smart.  They can rephrase.

Too many of us have taken the advice, "Take every thought captive," far too seriously.  It sounds like a smart thing to do at first, but in practice, it's a recipe for neuroses.  Sure, some people don't reflect on their lives or thoughts enough.  These people chronically turn to  distraction. Maybe they need practice in taking thoughts captive.  But many of us naturally reflect on our thoughts and try to analyze every thought that breaks into consciousness.  By trying to take every thought captive, we become captive to a myriad of overwhelming ideas and suggestions.  Even the chronic distracters out there may spend so little time considering their thoughts because they don’t realize that they can actively choose which ones to focus on.

Brain studies show that only a very small percentage of thoughts make it into consciousness.  That means that when we choose not to give time to a conscious thought, a dozen more wait to break through.  Of those thoughts, we can choose to give time to only the truly helpful ones.  Don't be afraid to ignore thoughts. I assure you, a bevy of other thoughts wait to take their place.

We may not choose all of our thoughts, but we can choose the ones we want to give time to. We can choose how long they stay in consciousness.  Some unhelpful thoughts may come up over and over and over, but by moving past them, you can train your brain to pick other thoughts.

It's tough.  Ask for support when you need it.  I'm only now to a point where I really understand what it means to choose my thoughts.  Meditation has helped, and I can't recommend it enough. Spending a few minutes actively choosing to let thoughts go has been immensely helpful, and I think I'm getting better at it. 

However you decide to train your brain, go for it, and refuse to run your life on guilt.

I wasn't disappointed. I love anything slightly off the beaten path and insist on finding the beauty in things most people sneer at. Someone has to buy the misshapen pears at the supermarket. Someone has to root for the villain, right?  Some might call me a contrarian, but after reading The Beauty of Different, I'd say I'm in good company. Walrond tells the stories of eight ordinary extraordinary people, weaving her own history into the mix with words and gorgeous photography.

I'm a sucker for beautiful books, so at one glance, I knew I would enjoy this one.  I felt like going out and conducting my own interviews after reading the stories of these people—their passions, their motivations, their heartbreaks, their unapologetic authenticity, and their creativity. Their stories don't make them seem like pristine, perfect people who I could never be like. They are unique human beings who put one foot in front of the other and make things happen outside the status quo. In short, they are the kind of people I want to be.

I'll freely admit that I liked the book largely because Walrond echoes my own world views on inclusiveness, spirituality, travel, authenticity, and life in general. It feels like a book I could have written, but my version would pale in comparison, devoid as it would be of Walrond's lovely photos. The imagery and her curious approach to lofty subject matter make every topic extremely accessible to any reader. I would recommend it to anyone, not just because her perspective resonates with me, but because her photography will captivate most everyone.

The book teems with insight and lovely phrases, but it certainly isn't the best writing I've ever read. Despite that, as a whole, physical book, it beats most bestsellers on the market today. This isn't a classic novel, after all.  It's a book from the heart, full of meaning and earnest sentiment.  Most of its effectiveness comes from the careful combination of words and photos. Even if you never actually read the book, you won't regret the moments you spend luxuriating in Walrond's stunning images and colors. The book is a complete, satisfying package.   

I feel like I found a friend in Karen Walrond, like I want to meet her friends and encourage her as she continues to pursue a creative life of writing and photography—a second life for her after a decade as an attorney. I sit here, a writer and musician who has only recently chosen to leap from full-time corporate to full-time creative, and from this place, I'd characterize my reaction to the book as jealousy.  Yes, definitely jealousy.  I wouldn't take anything Walrond has away from her, but I certainly would like a taste of it. Things to come… methinks. 

As all good books should, The Beauty of Different makes me want to live life a little differently, visit new places, meet new people, and create new art. It's inspiring.  If you need some color in your life right now, pick up a copy. You can find it at Bright Sky Press and at Amazon. And don't miss Walrond's treasure of a website, http://chookooloonks.com. How can you not fall in love with a name like that?

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.