Fear

Fear travels with me every day. On some days it screams--when I try something new, make a mistake, allow myself to be vulnerable, speak a minority opinion, disappoint someone, or feel threatened. Other days it quietly chatters in my ear, but I don't listen. One of my greatest insights: fully feeling the fear is so much easier than constantly avoiding or fighting the fear. Fighting the fear (or avoiding it via distractions) exhausts me mentally and emotionally. Feeling the fear--while in the presence of loving-kindness for myself--actually softens the emotion. It takes the edge off the fear, and I can peer into vulnerability or sadness. Regardless, I FEEL and it's all okay (this flies in the face of what my ego tells me: don't feel anything, just busy yourself all the time, doing very important things--ah, the chatter of ego). The reality is that feeling difficult emotions actually softens them (eventually).

I know fear will travel with me all my life. I have no illusion that fear will disappear. That's not how life works or how the human brain works. But I'm listening to fear less and less. When I'm mindful, I hear the trigger thoughts or physical sensations, and then just sit with them. Underneath the fear is typically a message--for example, that I feel vulnerable or I'm tired or I need more self-care. In that sense, fear is a lovely travel companion; the scream of fear is an excellent indicator for me to do less and be more; to love more; to experiment more; to take better care of my precious self.

Mark recently showed me a YouTube video of a 4th grader before, during, and after her first ski jump. It's a short video (just under 2 minutes), but it's really powerful. Anytime I need inspiration to listen to my authentic self (which might be the whisper of a child), ignore the fear, and plunge into something new, I will watch this video. It's a lovely reminder that everyone feels fear, yet when we overcome fear the ride can be exhilarating.

Pure Magic

On Friday night, Mark and I traveled to the Stoughton Opera House for a Dar Williams concert. As I wrote in a previous blog post (An Ordinary Sunday +), Mark surprised me with tickets to Dar, who is my favorite artist. We leisurely traveled to Stoughton on Friday afternoon, checking into the hotel, and then arriving early downtown. Before grabbing dinner, we decided to stop in the opera house, which is both a beautiful venue for music and is the city hall. 


We walked in at 5:45 (show time: 7:30). Immediately I heard Dar's voice, and I held my breath. Were they playing her music on the sound system or was she doing a sound check? A lovely woman asked if we needed help and then said we could look around. She mentioned that a sound check for that night's music was going on ("Dar Williams is here"). I told her Dar was why we were in the house, and she replied that we were playing it pretty cool (I didn't want to mention my fear that speaking might break the spell of magic).

So we walked up the steep steps and quietly sat in the balcony while Dar and Bryn Roberts (her keyboardist) did their sound check. It was fun to peek into the world of a touring musician. They played, we listened, and I was very content. When my planning mind took me places like "you won't have time for dinner if you stay too long," I quickly realized I didn't care if we ate Subway or if we didn't eat at all--I wanted to enjoy the moment. So we did. And when the sound check was finished we walked downstairs. 


The lovely woman who greeted us earlier was at the will call table. Mark told her he'd put his name on a list for better seats if they were made available. (Although there are no bad seats in the Stoughton Opera House, our particular seats were near a post). She asked him, "Are you Mark?" That's when I knew that Mark and his big, generous heart had charmed the workers at the Opera House. When ordering the tickets, he told the person that it was a surprise for me and he didn't want any kind of receipt sent to the house, lest the surprise be spoiled.


So Christina, the lovely and talented event coordinator, decided to upgrade us at no extra charge. In fact, she decided to give us FRONT ROW SEATS. Her act of generosity warmed my heart, brought tears to my eyes, and set the mood for the entire night. From that moment on, I was walking on fairy dust:

We found a locally owned pub, where we ate good food, had drinks, talked about our experience, and chatted with other diners about the night's show.  

When we arrived back at the Opera House, I was able to thank Christina and Bill (the director) again in a heartfelt way, and then we made our way to our seats (in the front row!). The space was beautiful, our view was incredible, and the energy was happy, yet calm. The concert is one I'll never forget. We heard a variety of songs, from the tender ("When I Was a Boy") to the empowered ("As Cool As I Am"); from the playful ("The Christians and the Pagans") to the heartbreaking ("February"); and from the upbeat ("It's Alright") to the innocent & fun ("The Babysitter's Here"). Dar is an incredibly talented artist and she seems like a kind, open-hearted person. It's the first concert I didn't want to end. Typically, in the second set of a concert I have thoughts like, "This is great, but I'm tired and I'm ready to go home," but this concert was pure bliss. I could have listened to Dar all night.

Interestingly, Dar had a scratchy throat and a bit of laryngitis. Yet her concert was still excellent. In fact, she rarely mentioned the state of her voice. I found that inspiring. When we're not at full strength, it's so tempting to explain what's wrong. Yet Dar didn't. She just talked, sang, and entertained (and trusted in herself & the audience's love of her music).

After the show, we had champagne in the hot tub at the hotel room. I still felt bathed in fairy dust.

The next morning, Mark wanted to visit a music shop in Madison ("Spruce Tree Music & Repair"). He loves that store, both for the instruments and the friendly dogs who inhabit the shop. We decided to look for a breakfast spot near Spruce Tree. As luck would have it, there's a charming, small, super-yummy-food cafe ("Sophia's Cafe") on the same block. We walked in and fell in love with the place. What a lovely way to spend our Saturday morning.

On the car trip home we listened to Dar. One of the many things I love about her as an artist: I can listen to her songs over and over, yet each time I hear something new in her lyrics.  

So I crossed off another thing on my Life Menu of Awesome, but much more importantly I received a wonderful lesson about generosity, open-heartedness, and being in the moment. The reality is that Mark and I would have been happy with seats behind a post or a mediocre breakfast, and that's precisely why we were able to enjoy the great generosity and magic that happened. Thank you, everyone! (Especially big thanks to Dar--for being inspirational on and off the stage--and to my thoughtful, funny, loving husband for accepting me as I am and encouraging me to thoroughly enjoy each and every day.)

Craving

After a busy academic term, it's interesting to see what comes in the mail. The Amazon-box contents are often an indicator of what I crave. Sometimes I crave peace & meditation; sometimes nourishing, homemade food; sometimes creative projects; sometimes new plants & flowers. Sometimes everything! But I often place an order at Amazon during the 10th week of the term--desperately awaiting a mini-break where I might have space to meditate, cook, plant, and create.
       
But it's not the books I really need. It's the space and time to practice what's in the books. What I really need: to make myself a priority; to do soul-filling activities; or to just be. The books can't do any of this for me. 

At a meditation retreat, teachers often tell stories about the ways in which our active mind captures us during a meditation sit. One example is this: "Oh, I'm so glad I'm at this meditation retreat. I really want to make more time to meditate. Maybe I can plan my next retreat..." This is an example of craving the very thing that's happening. That is, sitting in meditation while craving more meditation. It's just another mechanism for ego to take over the process. Our minds are so very interesting.

So this spring break I got some lovely new books in the mail. But, more importantly, I made space to meditate, create homemade cards, take photos, cook food, and plant some lilac cuttings. It's the self-nurture I really craved. What a nice reminder that what I wanted was really always here. Just like Dorothy's ruby slippers--at any point they could have taken her home. Or in the words of meditation teacher Thich Nhat Hanh: "Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment."

In the Moment

 

Monday & Tuesday, I made a quick trip to Mt. Vernon, IA (my hometown). It was wonderful to visit with my parents and my sister's family. There was lots of fun (e.g., laughter, meals, round-table ping pong, sharing stories), yet my main intention for the trip was to help my dad. My parents recently moved from the house I grew up in to a new condo in the same town. This is a positive move, but the process of cleaning out a house filled with 40 years of memories (and stuff) is daunting. So I wanted to help; and I wanted to spend time with my dad.

Over a short period of time, dad and I accomplished many meaningful tasks at both the old house and the new house. Yesterday afternoon, we made one last trip to the old house (dad wanted  juice glasses, the hose, a lamp, and I wanted  clippings from the lilac bush--a bush that originally came from a cutting of my grandma's lilac bush back on my dad's childhood farm in Michigan). 


It was a beautiful day, and dad wanted to clean the hose before we returned to the new house. I was tired and felt a little tug of impatience, since I wanted to get back to Appleton at a reasonable hour. Luckily, I had the clarity to see this impatience for what it was: a fleeting thought from ego that was obstructing my enjoyment of the present moment.

Here was the reality: It was a gorgeous day; I was in the presence of my dad, whom I love unconditionally with my whole heart, respect deeply, and like immensely; and, really, we had all the time in the world. So I relaxed into the moment. I drank in the sunlight and the connection with my dad--now I'll always remember the time we cleaned the hose in March 2012. And I took some photographs. (Thanks, Cococita, for the "beauty in the everyday" prompt!) 


It doesn't get much better than a beautiful spring day spent with someone you love.

An Ordinary Sunday +

On a typical Sunday morning, Mark gets up around 5am. He does yoga, catches up on computer to-dos, and listens to "On the Media" on NPR. Usually, I'm up around 7ish, and we both listen to "Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me!" while we prepare breakfast. I make the coffee and cut the veggies for our eggs; Mark makes the biscuits. While the biscuits bake, there's a flurry of activity in the kitchen, both of us fixing eggs in different ways, and still trying to hear all the funny quips from Peter Sagal. When we sit down at the table, we relax, enjoy our food, chat, and talk about our plans for the day. Eventually, one of us gets up from the table, and the other follows, gradually cleaning up the dishes.

I usually have my second cup of coffee while sitting in my big, comfy chair reading a book or writing in my journal. Mark often makes a batch of yummy granola, playing his fiddle while the granola bakes.

Sometimes I have errands to run on a Sunday, which isn't my favorite part of the day. So I procrastinate by, for example, going outside to put scraps in the compost bin and check on my plants:

Honestly, I'm befuddled by the weather we've had. Never in my 13 years in Wisconsin has it been this nice (in a sustained way) this early--it's only mid-March! My little plants are all peeking out of the ground, yet I'm afraid to pull off the cover of leaves, as colder weather might be coming. Wonderful weather, but perplexing as a gardener. I think I'll keep the layer of leaves on for a few weeks. 


I ran some errands, and even took my camera along, but nothing seemed picture-worthy. Let's face it: beauty is hard to find in errands. But it's easy to find beauty in a tasty lunch eaten in our backyard (a wonderful treat after dealing with the mall):

Although Sunday breakfast and dinner are typically homemade by us, we often get Sunday lunch from Bob at Green Gecko Grocer & Deli. This Sunday it was a delicious Dal.

Mark plays music--fiddle & guitar--at Harmony Cafe on Sunday afternoons 2-4 (Green Apple Folk Society jam). Each week is a different mix of people, tunes, and songs. But it's always a welcome and fun bunch. If I have grading, then I accompany Mark to Harmony. It's much nicer to grade when I can sip tea and listen to music. But this Sunday I had no grading. YAY! So I went for a run on what was a gorgeous day.

We decided to make pizza for dinner. Slowly we began the preparations, cutting garlic, mushrooms, olives, and Brussels sprouts while sipping chardonnay (me) and IPA (Mark). Mark turned on WPR's "Simply Folk". [Important note: Previously Mark asked if he could have me this Friday late afternoon and evening--it was to be a surprise. I'm a planner, so it's important for him to get these things on my schedule, even if it's a surprise. And I've gotten much better about not asking any questions.] 


Back to Simply Folk... the host introduces a Dar Williams song and then announces that Dar will be in the area this week. Immediately my ears perk up. Then I quickly realize this must be the surprise on Friday. I had a flash of trying to forget what I heard, but I can't ever lie to Mark. So I turned and asked him if this was the surprise. Indeed, it was, and he was clearly disappointed that Simply Folk had ruined it (curses Stephanie Elkins!). But then he easily realized that the surprise just came early. It was right then: I was going to see Dar Williams! This is on my Life Menu of Awesome (of course, Mark knew this). Dar is one of my very favorite artists. I love her witty, yet poignant lyrics; her upbeat songs; and her beautiful voice. 


So this is where the + comes from. This was no longer an ordinary Sunday. This was the Sunday I learned I would soon see Dar Williams in concert:

Okay, now back to the ordinary Sunday... We made pizza, which was yummy, although a bit burnt (such is life). And we watched a fun movie ("The Adventures of Tin Tin"), which was a welcome change from the dark, independent movies I've recently rented.

When I had an ice cream craving in the middle of the movie, Mark wisely talked me into using what we had at home (my immediate thought was to drive to the store for Ben & Jerry's). So we whipped together some melted dark chocolate, amaretto, and bailey's, and poured that over vanilla ice cream. Excellent! My husband is exceptionally wise and he has a HUGE, thoughtful heart. (I'm going to see Dar Williams!)

My Sunday ended the way all my days end: rubbing lotion on my feet under the light of candles in the bathroom. It was just an ordinary Sunday. But in its ordinariness, there was so much fun, tastiness, beauty, intimacy, quiet, joy, and even a big surprise. I went to bed feeling deeply grateful.

Jury-duty Money

In August I spent 50 hours on jury duty. Typically, cases are settled out of court, and many jury-duty dates are cancelled. But for two of my show-up dates, the civil suit went to trial, and each time I was chosen for the jury. (Statistician's note: this is a small chance occurrence.)

  

After the first case, I was exhausted, but felt good about the legal process and the outcome. During the second case, I came undone at the seams. I felt like a prisoner to the case, which was laden with financial information and emotional difficulty. I worked 10-hour days, with only a 30-minute lunch break. My mind and body were exhausted, and emotionally I was all over the map. August was my time to rejuvenate before the start of a new academic year; August was my time to care for a friend recently diagnosed with cancer; August was my time to coo over the new baby of dear friends. August was NOT my time to be imprisoned listening to a civil case that had no good answers and yet endless amounts of exhibits. 

That was a lot of yuck. BUT, I survived the second trial (and did due-diligence as a juror), and I learned some very good lessons in the process: 1) I have no control over externals--only what happens in my mind & heart, 2) the worst prison is the one I create in my own mind when I listen to nasty ego voice, and 3) I always have more choices than I first think.

Jury duty was difficult, but I believe in the legal process, and I learned some valuable life lessons. To honor my hard work and to remind myself of the lessons learned, I decided to use my jury-duty pay (almost $200) in purposeful ways. When the check arrived at my house, I cashed it and put that cash in a little tin--a tin filled with special money meant for special things (not, say, to pay for the groceries).

  

The jury-duty money sat quietly in the bottom of my purse for months. Then I had an aha moment while out for lunch with a friend--I could use my jury-duty money to treat us to lunch! Then another aha: I could use the money to buy roller derby tickets, so Mark and I could happily support PachaMama. That is, I could use the money to fund experiences that fill my heart & soul. So now the money is slowly draining from the tin. And each time I use it, I smile with gratitude.

Friendship

In loving-kindness meditation (as taught in Western culture), you begin with yourself. One starting place is to envision a recent generous act and use that to access genuine kindness for yourself. Then you repeat some phrases: May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be well. This is the basis for the practice, because if we cannot truly access love for ourselves, then it's impossible to truly access it for others.

The loving-kindness meditation gradually branches out, ending with all beings. In the middle of the practice, you send loving-kindness to close friends. This part comes very naturally to me. I'm incredibly grateful for my friends. In fact, my heart spills open with gratitude when I think of my circle of nearest & dearest friends: Life-long friends, new friends, heart-family friends, meditation friends, work-out friends, music friends, soul-sister friends, photography friends, and the list goes on. 

The more life I live, the more choices I see in front of me; I see choices where I used to see non-negotiables. One very conscious choice I've made is to surround myself with people who feed my spirit, and who love and support me as I am. I treasure my friendships. With friends, I laugh, cry, create, make food, dance, express gratitude, talk about hard things, celebrate, run, meditate, listen, and play. Fulfilling friendship is a safe and warm place for me to be authentically me (and to just be). Without deep friendship, my life would be stale and grey. Instead, my world is tasty and vibrant--thank you friends! 

Different Viewpoint

I've written before about the Astronomy Picture of the Day. It's such a lovely way to gain perspective. I'm captivated by the above photo of the earth. Sometimes I try to hold the whole world in my heart. And it's just too much. I want to save my loved ones from pain; I want to make everything okay for my students (and for them to learn and retain everything I teach them); I want people to love and not hate each other. 

When I reach this state of too much holding & clinging, I'm no good for anyone. I lose my perspective. If I'm aware enough, I can cultivate a different viewpoint. In the words of Sharon Salzberg (Loving-Kindness): "It is a state of peace to be able to accept things as they are. This is to be at home in our own lives. We see that this universe is much too big to hold on to, but it is the perfect size for letting go."

Of course--it's absolutely the perfect size for letting go. Trust and let go. This then re-opens the ability to truly love, accept, and be present. To know we are enough (and the world is enough) just as it is.

Both photos come from the website: Astronomy Picture of the Day

Blanket of Snow

Last night we received the most beautiful snowstorm. It was warm, so the snow laid gently on the trees, and in every direction the scene was gorgeous and peaceful. The blanket of snow dampened all sound and brought out the beauty everywhere (even where it's least expected). 

Yesterday I had a busy, up-and-down day and a bit of funk going on as I left the office. Yet as soon as I stepped outside, my mood softened. The scenery was glorious. I snapped some photos, paused, and let nature soothe me. It took my funk away (poof!).

Mark and I stayed home for a comfy evening of pizza and movie. But every so often I'd look outside with wonder; it was just that magical. What a lovely reminder of beauty, softness, and quiet--I simply needed to pay attention. Nature provides many gifts. I'm especially grateful when nature provides big, beautiful, here-I-am scenes; these bring me perspective and an opportunity to slow down & enjoy the ride.

House Concert: Music & Inspiration

On Sunday, February 19, we hosted a house concert by David Francey. Mark, a big fan of David's music, saw a small gap in David's tour schedule: Madison on Saturday and Michigan on Wednesday. He then contacted David's manager about a house concert in Appleton (very courageous, my husband). Once this became more real, Mark gently asked if I'd be okay with a house concert. Immediately, I had a habituated control reaction: we must rearrange all the furniture, we must provide tasty food and fancy drinks, and what if one of my plants is damaged? Yet after sitting with this ego reaction, I realized it was just that. And, after seeing how truly excited Mark was for this event, I agreed to open our house. That is, I allowed myself to trust in Mark, in the magic of music, and in the truth that everything need not be just right (in fact, it's much more real if it's not). This was a big deal for me--letting go of control and just experiencing the event. (From Jen Lemen: "Trust is letting go of needing to know all the details before you open your heart.")

Our house filled with 25 people from different backgrounds, but with a shared love of music and  a spirit of kindness. We listened, laughed, sang, tapped our toes, and generally had a great time. Everyone seemed in the moment, connected, and open to whatever happened. The energy of the evening filled me for days. Mark and I still talk about the music, interactions, joy, and fun.

Before the house concert, I'd listened to little of David's music. Still, I respected him as an artist, and was excited to host him in our house. David and Mark Westberg (guitarist) arrived about 5pm, two hours before the start of the concert. From the very moment I met them, I felt at ease. These are two very talented musicians who are also incredibly gracious,  kind, and interesting people. We fed them chili & homemade bread and talked about David's creative process, life on the road, and music in general. Our conversation was lively, heartfelt, and honest.

During the concert I was entertained and moved by David's stories, his meaningful lyrics, his impressive voice, and Mark W.'s skillful guitar playing. I realized the magic that was in our house that night, and how very lucky we were to host such an event. Yet I was not only affected by David's artistry; I was actually most inspired by David as a person. He is incredibly attentive and always real--he can be nothing but his true self. Being in his presence was a soul-filling experience. He inspires me on my path to full authenticity and realness. From David's song Grateful: "We say thank you, yes, and please. We are grateful to receive." Indeed, David, we were all exceptionally grateful to receive!