Potential

I got to thinking about potential today – how our American culture seems, at some level, obsessed with living up to one's potential. When will we wake up and see the truth? No one, not even the most successful among us, lives up to their potential.

There are several different ways to approach this topic. Dating, for instance.  I've dated many people based on their potential, and I can't express how monumentally disappointing that's been.  Even if people change or grow, they still rarely match up with the wonderful ideal I build of them in my head. The day inevitably comes when I have to admit that this person I'm dating is not the same as the idealized potential person I've been carrying around in my mind. They are who they are. And that person isn't the right one for me.

Another way to look at it is more personal.  Am I living up to my potential? At least 98% of the time, I don't believe I am. From my perspective, I am filled with infinite potential, and my mind rather recklessly believes that I can attain the fullest expression of that potential. But practically (and obviously), I cannot. Infinite potential?  Definitely not attainable. Infinity 101.

So then, I wonder if I need to erect some kind of slightly sub-infinite version of the potential me. I may never be able to be the perfect person in my head, but perhaps I can be something close to it. Once again, this is a trap. Which parts of my infinite potential do I give up?  Which parts do I alter? Which pieces do I remove?  To take away pieces of my potential is to take away pieces of myself and to blind myself to the kind of creation I actually am. I'm creating a kind of Frankenstein monster that I think I'm more likely to evolve into, which completely devalues who I really am.

The truth is: I AM my fullest potential.  At all times, my potential lives actively within me. There is no "living up" to it or attaining it.  At certain times, the light of my potential emanates from me more than others. But all the while, it exists.  It flourishes in my soul.

The trap that ensnares me is the idea that this potential should manifest itself in particular ways. One lie tells me that because I have a vast reservoir of untapped musical talent, I should have a lucrative and respected musical career. This belief traps me. It seems like a reasonable goal, and because it seems reasonable, my mind decides it has a right to beat me up about not achieving it – at least, not achieving the version of it that I see in my head.

Under my reservoir of musical talent is a base-level propensity toward creativity. I am a person who takes ideas and makes them real. Songwriting is only one form of creation. This part of my soul manifests in other ways. The problem here is that I value certain manifestations above others. In fact, some manifestations are entirely invisible to me. For instance, I feel quite accomplished when I finish a song, send a thoughtful card in the mail, or write a blog post. These are measureable feats for which I can pat myself on the back. On the other hand, I devalue activities like writing in my journal, cleaning my home, rearranging the pillows on my bed, planning the day ahead, drawing while watching television, or calling a friend just because I thought of him.

All these activities could be expressions of creativity. I'm bringing ideas into the physical realm. But somehow, I miss it.  I miss the fact that I am expressing my potential at all times. I miss the reality that my potential can be called upon at any time, in all situations. I miss all the wonderful things I do and the wonderful person I am even when I do nothing.

When I think I'm not living up to my potential, I beat myself up. I tell myself that I could be doing more, saying more, or making more.  I always need to be "more" than I am.

But there is no "more" than I am.  I am already all of me.

It's been instilled in me as an American that I need to find a way to use every ounce of potential I possess to create a life and, really, a person named Michelle that lives up to all she is "meant" to be. I have somehow been taught to think that I have to work very hard to make this happen.

These days, I suspect that I don’t need to work very hard at all to live up to my potential. The way to be the full, rich person I am is, instead, to let go. Everything I hold onto only holds me back. I have to let go of ideas about who I should be. I have to let go of rules I've accepted or set for myself. I have to let go of dreams. I have to let go of problems. I have to let go of friends, of lovers, and of having everything the way I want it.

When I let go, I fall into the hand of a higher power that knows exactly where I need to be.  That higher power knows exactly who I am – all of my potential – even if no one else does. The natural world supports me letting go and flowing along to its rhythm.

When I let go of trying, I become exactly who I really am, and that person might surprise me. I may think I know what my fullest potential is, but the truth is that I have no clue. Why try to live up to an image of Michelle that may not be anything like me?  For all I know, I am so far from my true potential, the only thing that will get me there is to completely let go and fall for miles into a completely new life and way of thinking.

For today, I give up the search for potential. Today, I know that I am already living up to my potential and that I am loved and accepted by everything that matters most. I am today. I show up for today. And daily, I am becoming a greater expression of the beautiful light that lives within me, even if I can' see it.

Unstuffing

Why do we stuff our lives with so much?  What holes are we trying to fill? Or maybe I should ask why do I stuff my life with so much? 

It's a reaction to a feeling of scarcity I've carried with me for as long as I can remember. It's why I like to save things.  It's why I like to keep in touch with friends for years after our relationships stopped being very meaningful. I don't like to lose things. I mistakenly think that if I let something go, nothing will fill the void.

But something always fills the void.  Something always comes in and fills my life with newness when I let go of the old.  I have to be willing to release things or say no to them from the start.

Lately, too much has been swooping in, and I've been accepting far too much of it. I have to unpack my life.  Much like when I stuff my body with food, if I stuff my life with commitments and activities, I feel sick, tired, and sad.

At first, being incredibly busy feels great, especially when everything I'm doing are things I love. It's hard to say no when the opportunities are all so great. Nevertheless, too much of anything does not equal happiness.  Too much is usually, well, too much.

Why am I becoming more aware of this tendency to stuff?  Meditation. During meditation, I get an acute sense of what it feels like to exist without worry, to not have to do anything. In those moments, I know down deep that I will be okay, even if I achieve nothing or win nothing. Most of the time, I am not worry-free throughout my entire meditation, but in those pockets of serenity, I understand what it means to let go.

Only now, at age 30, am I can beginning to understand letting go at a deeper level.  I barely got to know it as a concrete thing in my 20s.  Before age 26, it was a mythical idea.  Now, I see the deeper necessity of letting go. 

After living on earth long enough (I guess 30 is long enough), we accumulate things and we start choosing what to save. People like me want to hold onto everything, to go back, to keep the old for the future. Everything seems equally meaningful. But in actuality, it's healthiest to release it all and to move forward afresh. It's also healthy to know when my life has hit capacity and to say no to new commitments and things at those times.

Today, I commit to choosing things for my calendar based on my values, not on my fear of not having or being or doing enough. I can make choices that align with what I want to be and what truly matters—not other people, not the world's standards, but instead, my values.

Will you clear you calendar with me?

Letting Go and Embracing the Music

So much is going on in the music-sphere lately!  I have a musical theater audition coming up and a great jazz festival on the weekend of January 30th.  These endeavors (along with opera training, writing songs, learning to record, and--oh yeah--regular life and work) are keeping me on my toes.  Change is in the air, and I'm learning to let go.  Status quo is comfortable, but it may be the enemy to happiness.  I must be willing to let go of what I have now, even though I love it, in order to see the next chapter in my life.

This is an exciting time.  Slowly, I'm learning to go to bed without finishing every task, to take the events and curves life throws as they come (instead of spending every moment trying to avoid them), and do what I love without fear.  These elements of life are key right now.  As life gets busier, I want my internal world to grow calmer.  I am sleeping a bit more, which has helped.  And I'm telling people about  my dreams, wants, plans, and loves.  It's time for a change, to let go of what I don't love and walk toward the new... even if it means giving up a few things that help me feel secure. 

There's nothing wrong with holding security close at times, but there's also a time to let go.  I'm learning this.  Always learning...

~~

And I have to throw in an advertisement for the jazz festival I mentioned.  Check out my Gigs page for more information.  

Trinity Jazz Festival
10th Annual ~ One of the Top Small Jazz Festivals in the Country

Check out www.trinityjazzfest.net for the full schedule.  I'll be singing with Storyville, an amazing jazz group led by Paul English and Horace Alexander Young III.  We will be doing vocal arrangements of instrumental compositions by Bach (Yes, Bach!) jazz style.  We sound amazing, and the rhythm section playing with us will add to the perfection of this music.  Trust me, you WANT to hear this.

The festival lasts all weekend, from Friday, January 28, through Sunday, January 30, and you should definitely go see the headliners and other performers.  But Storyville will be performing (for FREE) only on:

Sunday, January 30
10:30 a.m. and 12:30 a.m.  (pick the time you want to come)

at

Trinity Episcopal Church
1015 Holman @ Main
Houston, Texas 77004

Our Sunday performances are absolutely free!!

For more information, go to www.trinityjazzfest.net.

Housesitting

Last week, I dog- and house-sat for a friend.  The dog, although he is a rambunctious and rather large puppy, was no problem.  Being away from home, however, sent me into a tailspin.  My compulsion to control hasn't felt this strong in quite some time.  I felt completely discombobulated (I love using that word!) and distant from myself. 

The space around me nurtures me and in many ways, becomes a part of me.  I have set up my life and my home in a comforting way that reflects who I am, my loves, and what I need.  It was strange to live in a place where I wasn't sure I would have everything I needed.  If my week had allowed for time to visit my apartment a few times, I might not have felt so stressed.  But the week was a particularly busy one and also packed solid with rain, which increased the time I spent going anywhere to do anything.  My desire for rest and dryness outweighed my desire to drive in the rain to soak up the Michelle-ness my apartment contains.  At least, by putting aside the desire to run home, I attempted to let go of compulsion.  Unfortunately, I never managed to fully shake the anxiety the plagued me all week.

It seems particularly strange to me how much more severe my anxiety was compared to when I go on vacation out of town.  I discovered that, on holiday, I give myself permission to let things go, set aside my usual schedule, and take longer to do things.  I prepare myself by building an awareness that things probably won't go as planned and that I may not always have everything that would make me comfortable.  I remind myself that I can get or ask for what I need.

I did no such preparation—other than to pack a bag of clothes, sundries, and my favorite foods.  It felt so frustrating to live in the same town as my comfortable space and not be in it.  Instead, I was surrounded by other people's belongings, organized in ways that confused me.  The puppy took up a lot of my time, as well as numerous social commitments, and I was constantly seeking out time to rest.  It felt as though I was walking on a treadmill, with the movie backdrop version of my life scrolling past beside me.  I was separate from my own life and couldn't find my groove.  I also realized how challenging it is for me to give myself permission to NOT be and do everything "perfect Michelle" would do.

A couple days after the job began, I recognized that my discombobulation (word of words!) could be a good thing.  Out of options and things that seemed controllable, I was letting go.  I was learning to focus on the moment and release the things I could not change—at least a little bit. The items in the house, their organization, the dog, the messiness caused by the dog, the dampness, the strange bed, the alarm that didn't work, the new route to work—all of that had to be put to the side.  I had to find strength and centeredness in myself.

Centering—that's what I said I needed all week.  I fought my conditions.  I fought the reality that I was not living in my apartment, and therefore, my schedule would not be the same.  I was having to deal with people in my life that usually aren't present, too.  An additional wrench in the works—I needed to release my time and relax in knowing that I would get my solitude eventually.  I needed to ACCEPT what was instead of wishing for what I thought would be better.

Although I almost entirely accepted the situation by the end of the week, I only half-succeeded in centering myself.  At times, times I felt completely present.  But other times, I paced, ate, screamed, and fretted.  My reaction surprised me, but it has revealed compulsions and personal characteristics I want to work on.  I discovered that I am a loving human being who will give of herself to take care of others, but it reminded me that—alongside those qualities—I am an introvert. Although I learned that I am able to release more of my personal space that I could have in the past, I still hold onto many little habits and patterns that I falsely think will help control my environment. 

I tend to want to exert complete sovereignty over the world in which I live, but that goal is impossible!  I try to set things out a certain way, do laundry at a specified time, have everything I need present, not have people around when I don’t want them around.  But with a dog, with friends, with loved ones, with traffic, with weather, with unexpected inconveniences, it just isn't possible to achieve the serene, orderly, and astonishingly sterile and empty life I try to create. 

My utopia would have to be devoid of other human beings, animals, and nature in order to exist!  Why would I want a life like that? 

This week, from the security of my own apartment, I am focusing on staying present in the moment and allowing my life to not always go as I have planned.  To have a rich life, I have to give up some of what I think it "should" be.  At the very least, I need to examine my vision for my life and see if there is anything about it that wouldn't really be fun.  Sure, a world with no unexpected messes would be great, but I'll never have a pet or houseguests that way.  And constant safety would be wonderful, but when would I get to drive my car?

In short, I am happy to report that I am a loving introvert who can handle bumps in the road of life and create beautiful things from them.  I'd just like to do less screaming, crying, bingeing, and worrying when I see the bumps coming… and especially when I'm imagining bumps that don't even exist yet. 

Boxes

We all grow up with certain pictures in our heads—certain patterns, images, routines, sayings, and models that we are taught (or teach ourselves) are right and wrong.  Absolutes, or near-absolutes:  This is the way a nice person behaves.  This is what anger looks like.  This is what a job is.  This is how good people feel.  These are the things I have to do before inviting people over.  This is a good food; this is a bad food.  I am capable of X only if Y is present. These are the milestones I must achieve to be successful. The list of possible notions goes on and on. 

In my view, these are all boxes.  As human beings, we feel compelled to organize, describe, and categorize our lives.  Doing so makes it easier to see our place in the world.  It helps us make decisions.  It helps us build a sense of who we are based on what we are not.  We put things in boxes so that we can move forward and live.  We have to have some basis for choosing our next moves, so we wrap them up neatly in boxes. 

Many people cling all their lives to the boxes they were given as children.  They operate according to rules that worked for others—or rules they were told work for others.  For me, however, growing up has been, if anything, a string of opened boxes.

To understand the world and live in a fulfilling, satisfying way, I have had to face the fear that my most deeply held beliefs may not be true.  And even if I couldn’t prove some of my boxes false to a scientific certainty, I have determined that many of them no longer work for me and are impossible ways for me to live.  The boxes must be opened.

We all open boxes in big and small ways.  A baby eventually learns that mommy is not magically disappearing when the baby can no longer see her.  Mommy goes out, does other things, and remains alive and present somewhere even when she is not with her child.  This realization is essential for the baby to understand what people inherently are and how the world works. 

Other boxes are opened in less natural ways.  Some people who grew up in an environment where one race or gender was valued more than another may discover one day that the undervalued part of society has the same worth as everyone else.  A person who was taught that being attractive is the only way to succeed in life might meet a few people who, although they are not the image of perfection our society worships, are highly successful and likeable people.  Those encounters can alter that person’s paradigm. 

Someone may think that people who live in a certain country or city behave in particular ways.  Then, she visits that place and sees that nothing is how she imagined.  In another case, someone may grow up in a given religion and, at a certain point, start questioning it and eventually leave or radically change his spiritual practice. 

I have had to question deep-down beliefs about how people should behave.  I thought that I had to always be prepared, always have a full-time job, always regard family with sacred awe.  None of those ideas are bad, but to view them as absolutes is completely limiting.  It’s like thinking some foods are bad and others are good or that being a certain weight will equal a happy life.  It feels comforting because choices are limited, and I can easily see where I stand success-wise.  If I eat X, I’m good.  If I weigh X, I’m good.  If I am kind to my parents, I’m good.  If I am gainfully employed, I’m good. 

None of those statements are true.  But it felt safe to have concrete measures to stack myself up against. 

I have grown the most when I followed the courage to question my core beliefs.  I haven’t necessarily made radical changes in every area of my life.  Some values I picked up as a child still guide me.  But most have been tweaked, and many are no longer part of how I view the world.

 I no longer have the same spiritual beliefs I grew up with.  I no longer dress in certain ways, just to fit in.  I’m no longer quiet about my emotions or ideas in order to be considered a “nice person.” 

I’m still in the process of ridding myself of a few boxes.  The “what other people think about me matters” box is still duct taped on some edges.  The fact is, sometimes what other people think DOES matter to me.  The question is, do I care?  And then, of course, I wonder, “Maybe it really never does matter.”  In this case, I made a new box: the “what other people think about me does not matter” box.  Although I’m not entirely rid of the first one, I can choose which box to apply in any instance.  I usually pick up the latter, but having the earlier one available is a comfort.  Perhaps it will deteriorate eventually from disuse. 

Boxes are not bad.  We need them in order to function in the world, make decisions, and form ideas about who we are.  But we need to realize that boxes are not unchanging.  They are not permanent fixtures.  And the boxes we own are not the only ones in the world.  We can pick up new ones, discard old ones, and refashion ones so that they fit better. 

Most of all, even when using boxes, I try to remember to open the tops and see how much more is out there.  It may be comforting to live in a tiny box for a while, but the wonders of life cannot be contained in a small space like that.  Or maybe they can…  This is the beauty of opening the lid.  Nothing has to be true forever.  I can be open to any possibility and learn new things all the time. 

Maybe I don’t need to be in X profession.  Maybe I can go back to school at age XX.  Maybe I can move to another country.  Maybe what he thinks doesn’t matter.  Maybe she is wrong.  

Life is enriched when we learn to remain open to all possibilities.  We can choose particular beliefs we want to vouch for, but we can also listen and learn from other ways of thinking.  When I see someone in a box, I’m reminded of how limited it is, but I am also sensitive to how difficult living without boxes can be—and that living entirely without them might even drive a person insane.  

As for me, I’m learning that I can trust myself to question life.  When I lived in Spain and went through a deep depression, I made a conscious decision to question my deepest beliefs.  Nothing I knew was working for me anymore, but I felt deathly afraid of leaving old values behind.  Instead of giving in to the fear, I made the choice to live life differently, under different parameters, trusting that I would be okay.  I believed that if the values I left behind turned out to be right, I would be led back to them. 

I questioned religion, family, school, music, and everything I’d ever been afraid to walk away from.  Bidding my old beliefs goodbye was the only route to sanity for me.  I have never regretted the choice I made in Spain and the decisions that have followed along that path of rethinking and investigation.  

Whenever I haven’t had my core notions challenged or learned anything new for a while, I start feeling less satisfied and more off-balanced.  Mental and emotional issues surface, and my eating typically goes at least a little wonky, too.  I may feel depressed or hopeless.  When those stretches of stagnation hit, it’s time to break out the box cutters.

A Trickle Is Enough

Earlier this week, nothing seemed to go right for me. Although I meticulously save my money and organize my time, all efforts came to naught on Monday and Tuesday. The universe was out to prove that I was, of course, not in control, and this manifested in all sorts of little inconveniences.

After paying a few unexpected parking charges and spending an unexpected amount at a restaurant, I got no sleep and couldn’t seem to get important tasks accomplished at work. I felt exhausted and a little sick.

On Wednesday, I woke up planning to head to my apartment’s fitness room to work out and to finally get my monumental amount of laundry done after work. To my dismay, my access card, which allows me into common areas of my apartment complex (e.g., laundry room, fitness center,) was missing, likely freezing its plastic coating off in New York or jet setting around the world on the floor of an aircraft.

The apartment office doesn’t open until after 9 am (by which time I’m already expected at work), so I tried to dust off my frustration while hunting in vain for a few extra minutes. In the end, I picked myself up and opted to go for a very short jog before work, trying to forget the $25 fee I would have to pay to replace the card (yes, $25 for a magnetic card) and the fact that I would have to find time during the day to leave work and come get the card during regular business hours.

After my jog, all I wanted was to get in the shower and find my way to work before I was later than I already knew I would be. Most of you have experienced the same shock I felt when I reached into the streaming water only to jerk right back out again. A freezing blast. No hot water.

I almost started crying on the spot. I kept trying to think of things I could blame for the string of inconveniences. Was it the energy of the people I’d been hanging around? Some karmic comeuppance? The manifestation of my own negative thoughts? Or just the world being the terrible, anti-Michelle place it had proved itself to be time and time again? I did not seem to fit into its scheme.

Taking a deep breath, I turned off all the cold water and opened the hot as far as it would go. A sizable trickle spilled out of the showerhead. I looked at it. I felt it. It was warm.

I scooped it over my head, weak though it was. I somehow adjusted my body beneath it. All of a sudden, one thought entered my head, “This is enough.”

“This trickle is enough for me to take a warm shower.” I smiled. I laughed. I let everything go in that one moment. All of the toughness of the previous days seemed meaningless and trivial.

Still smiling, I hurried through my meager shower, trying to get soaped up and out of there before my flow ran out. The whole thing felt completely ridiculous, crouching there, trying to give every part of my skin equal shower time.

Although it was certainly not the most relaxing shower of my life, it certainly wasn’t the worst. And the quickness with which I completed it put me on time for work for a change. I laughed and with a minimal selection of clean clothes, decided to wear the most outrageous outfit I could put together. “I have no problems today,” I said, and headed out the door.

My neighbor called, and we commiserated over the lack of heat. I also discovered that it was his birthday and was able to plan a dinner to celebrate. The day lightened up a bit.

I arrived at work and called the apartment complex manager, who informed me that although I still owed the complex $25 (Have I mentioned how ridiculous that amount is?), I wouldn’t in fact have to leave at lunch to pick up the card. The front office would be open until seven that day.

Burdens continued to lift, and I patted myself on the back for keeping track of the card for the entirety of the almost two years I have lived there. I was bound to lose it at some point, and this was mighty impressive for someone who loses her keys at least once every other day.

For a second, I stood back, amazed at what one little shift in my thinking could do. I moved from a problem-plagued existence into a realm where I could do no wrong. I actively decided that problems would not be viewed as problems that day. I would focus on the positive. And it made an extreme difference.

It wasn’t that things just started going my way at some point. It was that I chose to see the things that DID go my way rather than the things that did not. I chose my reality.

What’s more, when I arrived at the apartment complex after work, one of the women in the office went back to get a card for me and came back saying, “I’m sorry this card is so beaten up, but someone found it and brought it in. I figure I can give you this one so you won’t have to pay.”

What!? And it was in even better condition than my raggedy old card had been. Ah, small blessings quickly become miracles to me. In the gloomy, rainy evening, I practically skipped back to my apartment. Yes, I stepped in mud on the way, but at least I had thought to change into my old sneakers before walking to the office. Yes, a good day…full of miracles.

A trickle of water is enough. I have enough and want for nothing. What I have is enough, and I am grateful for it.

This post is for SSS – You know who you are ;)

Giving Up

I never give up. And I give up all the time. This is one of life’s great paradoxes.

Most people shun the idea of giving in. I often hear my own voice saying things like, “You can’t let go of this one. You can’t give in. Just a little farther. You’ve come this far; don’t give up now. Keep stretching. You can do this. There is enough. You can make it.”

But how many times, for the sake of sanity and happiness, do I also hear, “You can let this one go. Release. Surrender. Loose your grip. Take it easy. Rest now. You are not in control of outcomes; just let go. Give it up. Just give a little.”?

The same phrase, moved into a different context, reframes life and the way I live it. People claim it takes more strength to refuse to relent, to march onward despite aches and pains. For me, however, the endless march comes fairly naturally. Of course, I have plenty of moments when passivity and inaction take hold. But here, I’m focusing on the many, many times when I commit so fully to a task or ideal that I may never release it. I will hold onto it until I see completion.

Certain projects or ways of thinking evolve into monolithic dedications. I devote undue time and resources (internal and external) to “high priority” ideas that seem to have been labeled “high priority” without any cause.

I may decide that, to save money or reduce stress, I will take time every night to make lunch for work the next day. A task that serves as a sort of self-caring convenience can become a monotonous task that my obsessive-compulsive side refuses to relinquish. I will make the lunch every night because I have committed to doing so, even if it’s one in the morning before I get home. Over time, I’m exhausted and resentful of the activity. I want nothing more than to go to bed. But I might continue just because the act provides me safety and the illusion of self-care.

In the past, I also stayed true to certain spiritual ideas for years simply because I had decided at some point that they were true—based on no evidence whatsoever. To realize that I retained beliefs simply because they had been taught to me over and over again stung to the core. I couldn’t imagine life without those beliefs. It took a long time to lay them down and walk forward, even though they caused unfounded guilt, stagnation, confusion, and more. When I finally moved on, I discovered more glorious realities and ideas that I ever could imagine. It takes great faith to leave a kind of faith sometimes.

This same notion applies to former ideas I’ve had about food (good/bad, scary/safe), about what it meant to be a good employee or person, and about all sorts of tasks I’ve had assigned to me on the job or given to me in everyday life.

Oftentimes, when I feel worn down or bored, I discover that I have been striving for perfection in some area of my life. That eternally fruitless quest for an ideal always leads to never-ending projects, feelings, and beliefs that harm me and keep me from doing things I enjoy. Endless pursuits distract me and prevent the growth I truly want.

In those instances, I have to give up. I have to stop fighting the uncomfortable feelings. I have to give up trying to change an unchangeable situation. I have to let go of ideas that bring me supposed comfort but end in pain.

This means I may end up crying for hours in my apartment. I may have to take deep breaths to make it through a tedious or triggering meeting. I may have to admit that I don’t believe what I used to. All of these actions place me square in the middle of a liminal space—a space between, where I have left something behind but have not yet found the new.

For instance, I finally stop moving long enough to feel sad or disgruntled, and then I have to piece together exactly what provoked that emotion. I may even have to formulate an action to satisfy the feelings. I may be just need to accept my tears.

Breathing deeply during a meeting may open up space for me to examine exactly what is making me so uncomfortable. Do I need to say something? Not say something? Work on resentments toward another person? Is it simply that my body needs food or a pit stop?

Leaving old beliefs behind may mean uncertainty about what I believe. To live in that space is to live without explanations, without reasons. This can be hard for know-it-alls like me who appreciate pat statements and decisiveness.

In all of these situations, I give in. I give up something. I let go. I surrender.

However, in all of these situations, I don’t give in. I keep walking. I keep investigating. I keep living.

I give up an old way of living but do not give up living altogether. That is my truth for the day.

What Has Value?

I have been out blowing and going, brewing and doing, rambling and racing. Now, it’s time for rest. Once again, I ask, “What nourishes me?” Today, that is sitting at the piano, relaxing into the music. No need for tangible results.

I tend to be so tied to doing things that can be measured or that result in a physical product. I am inclined to clean my bathroom or finish a home improvement project before I sit down to write, play, read, or think. In the midst of my errand running, with the satisfaction of a checked-off to-do list, I can miss the extreme value writing, playing, reading, and thinking hold. Even if I do not complete a song or an article, the time spent thinking and pondering IS worthwhile. People just can’t see it, and I tend to like things that I think will win me favor with people.

Over the years, however, I have learned that I can FEEL the value of abstract activity. My family never really valued intangibles; therefore, I became highly achievement-oriented, filling my life with goals like cross country race times, grades, levels of extracurricular involvement, and eventually numbers on a scale or calories eaten in a day. I am beginning to see that striving toward such targets may offer far fewer benefits than enjoying less concrete activities.

My brain needs imagination time to function properly and come up with new ideas when I eventually get to work or encounter a difficult project. Imagining during my free time prepares my mind for creative thinking in a product-driven environment. On my own, I can think and play without creating an end product.

When deciding not to work on another item on my task list, it can be very difficult to shirk old beliefs that shout, “Why are you sitting around doing this? Why are you walking around aimlessly at night or lying in the middle of the living room floor? Why are you not finishing up that song or cleaning the bookshelves or preparing lunch for tomorrow? What you’re doing now matters to NO ONE!”

“Well,” I reply, “this matters to me. And because I allow myself the freedom to spend time without goals, products, or measures, I feel less hemmed in by all the things in my life that require me to meet expectations and quotas. Participating in activities without goals enhances my positive emotions and creative ideas—a priceless result. I feel invigorated, rather than drained, by these pursuits. The fact that I am doing this now will matter to someone, someday. And even if that person is only me, that is enough.”

The value system for activity that I have in place is pretty hard-wired from childhood. But by experimenting with letting myself go and doing things that seemingly have no point, I can see if life gets better or worse when I shift my focus and priorities.

We can all afford to take a look at our fundamental beliefs. Are there things you believe and don’t know why? Examine those. Then, do something contrary to the belief. Does your belief still seem founded in truth?

As for me, I’m off to the piano. Maybe a song will come out of this. Maybe not. Maybe all that really matters is that I make music.

I Could Write about Anything

Recovery is NOW. Happiness is NOW. These are the words I’m thinking…now. I can choose to behave in a totally new way at any moment. Life is open and free. Why do I often deny it?

I feel called to live a non-traditional life. Frankly, a life that would be “traditional” in my eyes is too difficult—impossible really. Even though I do believe that anything is possible, I don’t particularly care if the traditional life is achievable. I don’t want it. In fact, it would do me good just to take the prospect off my plate.

Let’s face it, I like to stand out a bit. Why would I wear scarves of every color and necklaces bigger than my face if I didn’t want some recognition!? Something in me is screaming, “This is not how it has to be!” And it isn’t. Life can be whatever we make it.

Of course, the kind of options that reality implies are not so inviting to a decision-phobe. “You mean, I can do ANYTHING I want?” I question. “Really?”

Yes! Anything. I can believe anything I want, do anything I want, think anything I want. Sure, there may be financial or geographical limitations, but the insurmountable boundary is rare (if not nonexistent). With a little ingenuity and the universe on our side, all truly is possible.

This means that when I feel bored with my life (as I have felt lately), I can choose to do something new. I can get out of the rut. It is possible. Working so hard to maintain a “regular” job or an “acceptable” body or a “reasonable” schedule wears me out! I cannot bear the pressure of having to portray a “normal” sort of lifestyle, sexuality, spirituality, fashion sense, ethics, or ideology. Of course, the “normal” I strive after is simply a construction I’ve made to drive me and only me insane. I wouldn’t hold anyone else to these ideals, but somewhere along the way, they were planted in my psyche.

I feel comfortable that what I am doing now will result in the fulfillment of those ideals, but I don’t want those ideals anymore! However, at this point, I’ve grown so attached to my safe routines that I fear releasing them. Nonetheless, I know that getting out of these unfulfilling routines simply requires that I try a few new things and break those routines a little bit. Now, if my feelings about my boredom and the solution are so obvious, why don’t I get out of the rut?

Ah, the eternal conundrum. Even though I have a pretty fierce love/hate relationship with most of the biblical Paul's writings, he was just another human being (despite sainthood), and I completely commiserate with his line in Romans 7:15, “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Can anyone else with various addictions relate? I think some of you might, and probably practically every “normal” person out there, too.

How many times have each of us participated in behaviors that we do not want? Through therapy (or plain common sense), most of us learn that we practice those behaviors because part of us DOES want to do them. I engage in self-destructive patterns because part of me believes that they are helping me, because they enable me to somewhat express something I do not know how to express another way.

What is the key to breaking the cycle? Saying, “I’ll stop doing that”? No. What DOES work is finding something that provides what we’re looking for with less effort or hurt. The effort is in the FINDING of the thing that can replace the unsatisfactory behavior. And how do we get to the point of actively looking for the replacement? Ha! Your guess is as good as mine.

My experience has been that in order to break patterns that aren’t working for me, I have to develop new patterns that I love more than the old. In order to stop bingeing, I have to want something else far more than that immense amount of food. (It ultimately comes down to love, for love is really the greatest desire any of us can have.)

At first, there seems to be nothing I want more than that binge. What could possibly fulfill me more? Therefore, in the beginning, I have to do a little forcing of myself into new areas. I have to try different things, even if I don’t want to. I can come home and binge later, but I need to try something new first. Eventually, I might find something I truly enjoy. Then, I have to do the new thing more often and make it a pattern. The more I do the things that I love, the easier it is for my mind and body to remember how preferable those behaviors are to the binge.

It takes time and some effort. It isn’t always easy. But the solution is pretty simple, almost like a math equation. If I have more positive memories of one behavior, I’m more likely to do that than something else. I can change my “muscle memory,” in a way. Unfortunately, I repeat, it takes time and some effort.

Sometimes, I find it valuable to look into the “negative” behavior and honestly see what it is doing for me. I want to understand why I like it so much, why I am afraid to change it. I ultimately want to see what good lies within it, because nothing is all bad. (Once again, I dislike the words good and bad, but I’m using them. Damn the English language and linear thought! – although both are valuable ;) ) Sometimes, I can actually embrace a behavior I want to get rid of and see that it can work for me if taken down to its core.

Perhaps the desire to binge is really a desire for a healthy amount of food or simply a desire to feel full and taken care of. These desires can be acted on in other ways. And it’s always possible for me to eat a large meal or snack rather than zone out and enter into binge mode. I believe that it’s completely okay to indulge myself regularly. If I am truly listening to my emotional, spiritual, and physical needs, things balance out.

I am constantly seeking balance. I crave it. I need it. That’s why I often swing from one extreme to the other—not because I am averse to balance, but because I am trying to find it. If I restrict in one area of my life, I will do something else in excess. It’s hard to see that these extremes are really ways in which I balance myself.

I can trust myself to find the balance. When I trust myself to know what’s right, I’m more likely to sit down and listen intently to my real needs and desires. I absolutely CAN trust the light within. I do want the best for myself, and with a little creativity, I can get it in ways that lead to a life greater than I could ever imagine!

I hope that you all learn to trust yourselves and will take a little time (even ten minutes) this week to sit with yourself quietly and see what comes up. Be kind enough to ask yourself what you are feeling and what is going on.

Much love ~~

P.S. For the sake of being “real,” I must confess that I am currently struggling to show my imperfections to ANYONE, even my most trusted advisors and friends. Sure, I know all of this great, affirmative stuff, but am I applying it? Not so much these days. There are many things I am scared as all-fire to let go of. However, tonight I know recovery is NOW. Happiness is NOW. I am making different choices this evening, even if only a couple. And it will lead to success. The only way to break the fear of change is to change something and see what happens… Running the gauntlet, y’all.

A Perfect Day

What is a perfect day? What would it take to create that kind of day? Could I recreate it over and over?

Naturally, the answers to these questions depend on a multitude of variables. Every day, the requirements change. Our goals change. Our circumstances change. There is no one perfect day. The potential "perfect" component combinations are infinite.

However, my most perfect days seem to be days when I start out wondering how I will make it through the day at all. Perhaps this is because, on those days, I consciously give over control to a higher power and recognize that I cannot determine the ultimate outcome of that day. I ask myself what would constitute a failed day and usually come up empty. Ultimately, it doesn't matter what happens. It's never the end of the world. I'm not out detonating nuclear bombs or anything.

I think one of my main problems is the over-importance I place on my life in general. I give it so much weight that it frightens me, as if my every move determined the course of the universe. And while my actions may have some effect on the universe, they more likely work within the context of a whole realm of other actions taking place everywhere else and as a result of the billions upon billions of things that occurred long before I ever existed on this planet. Things are moving along in the world, and it's rather arrogant to believe that I could have the power to throw the whole thing completely off-balance.

But wait! Can't I throw at least MY part of the world off-balance? And wouldn't that be scary?

Would it? Would it be so scary? Maybe things need to be thrown off every now and then.

Needless to say, the ingredients to a "perfect" day remain consistent: giving up control, relaxing, and doing WHAT I CAN (not things I WISH I could do). The best days are the ones that I let just be. And this is so hard for me to do...

Judgment has to be left by the wayside to create a perfect day. I have to stop second-guessing everything and allow my decisions to be my decisions. Things will get done. I can indulge. I can set schedules and plans. I can do whatever will be best in my life at the moment. I can try things. If it doesn't workout today, I can take notes so that I can make better choices in the future. It's okay to make mistakes. I am an aware person. I can learn from these things. No need to be afraid!

Holidays are the ideal times to test these ideas. I can create schedules if I want them or discard every routine, just to see what happens. I can set new standards or do things in different ways. There's usually a lot of time for reflection, so I can consider what I'm doing as I'm doing it. There may also be ample opportunities to celebrate and do new, interesting things. I can see how I react in situations with people I may have difficulty relating to and also get information from perspectives I do not typically access.

So, in conclusion, I am trying new things. I'm releasing some of my exercise and germ/health obsessions, or at the very least, I'm trying. I'm giving myself a chance to alter my patterns and ignore what others think about it while being open to unexpected wisdom. I can try to exist in a challenging location, away from home. Basically, I am encouraging myself to find home, wherever I am, maintaining openness to a concept of home that looks different than I initially imagined.

I am safe. I am at home...anywhere. A good mantra.