caught in my tin can
28 Dec 2011 23 Comments
in innerwisdom, life Tags: adele, fear, friends, integrity, life
I got caught singing in my car today.
I was in full-on concert mode; not pretending to be Adele, but pretending that her song was my song and I was on stage fully bringing it to my adoring audience. The crowd was vast, waving their iphones with the candle-app; I think I was even doing the closed-eye thing singers do when they are really feeling the groove.
Just as I hit the chorus, I got completely snagged. I was doing a little hand motion thing, fist clenched with passionate intensity, when I felt eyes on me. Not the eyes of my adoring imaginary audience, but real eyes from the car speeding up next to mine. My heart beat out of my chest. I had that horribly mortified feeling like I just stepped out of the shower and dropped my towel accidentally in front of a crowd.
As I was cruising along in my little tin can on the highway, I forgot, in that private moment, that I was, in fact, out in public.
We all do things we wouldn’t do if we knew someone else was watching. We all do things in front of some people that we might not do in front of others. In so many instances, we put away pieces of ourselves for others. We have our “at home” self and our “in public” self. We are careful about what we say. We rein ourselves in. As we were taught as kids, we demonstrate self-control. We diligently protect ourselves. We carefully protect others from ourselves.
I don’t mean to imply that not putting oneself completely out there is bad. The world would be pretty nuts if we all just said and did exactly what we were thinking all of the time; I mean, there’s something to be said for a little bit of decorum! But as we tuck pieces of ourselves away, out of fear or shame or insecurity, we risk losing what is most wonderful about each of us.
So where is the line? When does putting away who we are when no one is looking to be who we are in front of others become a compromise of our own integrity? How far do we let the fear of not being accepted take us?
Teenagers are in the thick of this. I see it every day as I witness their wade through the deep waters of figuring themselves out. While they are rolling in the deep, the older I get the more I feel like I just take the occasional plunge. I thought for sure I would wake up one magical day and not care one bit what anyone else thought of me. Do I dare admit that I sometimes care? And if I admit that I care, do I somehow compromise my own character?
With each day I grow more comfortable with the fact that I do care, that I do censor myself to a degree. Each day I grow more at ease with admitting that rather than trying to hide yet another piece of myself by pretending that I don’t. For me, that’s as authentic as I can be right now.
There are people in this crazy world with whom I don’t have to put any pieces of myself away. With each day, I realize the incredible value of spending my time with those people.
And so there I was, wanting to just speed away from whoever was in the next lane over without ever looking at them. Just as I was about to accelerate away from the embarrassing confrontation, something in the air made me duct-tape the mouth of my innerjudge. I faced my fear, and there in the next lane, in the car with all of the eyes, was my dear friend B with her husband and their three kids; all of whom I love. They were all frantically waving and laughing and giddy at seeing me in concert.
I laughed and waved back, still singing.
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inhale peace, exhale stress
20 Dec 2011 16 Comments
in innerwisdom, life, mindfulness Tags: balance, emotions, letting go, yoga
Last year I cried in yoga class.
Sixty plus people packed into a room to salute the sun and stretch away their stress and I was that girl who fell to the floor in a puddle of tears.
I walked in to the practice that night wound up tight. A parent at school was upset with me and I took her words to heart instead of considering that they came from a place of difficulty in her own life. I had taken on too much at work, wasn’t making enough time for myself or the people that I love and my body was carrying all of the garbage that comes with stress. I was unbalanced.
So there I was flowing along, telling myself that with each breath I inhaled peace, exhaled stress; with each new pose I was releasing the tension that had wound me up so tight I couldn’t see straight.
And then we did Goddess pose; known in Susannah-land as make-yourself-as-vulnerable-as-possible pose.
As I stood there, open, exposed, surrounded by strangers, open, tears began to stream down my face. Just as I began to cry, my instructor stood face to face with me. She looked me in the eyes. She mirrored my pose and said, “Be a goddess.” I nodded, still in my pose, thinking, “yup, right, I am so NOT a goddess right now.” I mean, how could I be a goddess with snot dripping down my lip?
She didn’t blink. She didn’t move and said again, “BE A GODDESS.”
And then the floodgates. In that quiet room with all of those people whose feet were planted so solidly on the ground, I fell to the floor and sobbed.
I sobbed for a long time. And no one came over to ask me if I was okay. Or told me it would be alright. No one assured me that if I just stopped crying I would feel better. I just sobbed, curled in a ball on my yoga mat with the quiet hand of my instructor on the center of my back. It was the first time in a long time that I could just let go. I could just feel how I felt without having to explain it to anyone. Without having to apologize to anyone. Without having to feel badly that I was making anyone else feel uncomfortable or put out by my feelings.
Everyone in the room just carried on. And the world didn’t fall apart. And neither did I.
Ah, sweet relief. Sweet release.
This goddess gathered herself up and joined in for Tree pose; her balance had never been better.
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shine on, john travolta!
12 Dec 2011 26 Comments
in innerwisdom, life Tags: inspiration, John Travolta, life, ubuntu
I saw John Travolta. Yup, I did.
He was strolling down 5th Avenue, checking out the elaborate Christmas windows at Bergdorfs on a Friday night just like some sort of normal guy in New York in December. It was chilly, the crowds had thinned enough that my mom and I could really see the windows up close and then, BAM! There he was, John Travolta, walking down the street, carrying a baby, laughing with his family.
He was glowing.
Really, he actually had a bright light shining around him. Oozing out of him. Even his baby was glowing (probably why Mom completely missed JT as she goggled over the lit-up baby). The Travoltas: magical beings carousing on 5th Avenue; beamed down to Earth to spread their light and bring joy to the masses.
And joy they brought! I was star struck. I whipped out my phone to text Kate that I’d spotted the real Urban Cowboy, the better-with-age Vinny Barberino, our god-in-the-flesh Tony Manero in all of his one-piece-jumpsuit glory. I told everyone who’d listen about my special moment. My 3 second brush with celebrity gave me a weird rush; as if being in the mere vicinity of JT’s fabulousness somehow made me fabulous, too!
His glow made me glow.
On the train down to the city I got a phone call from one of my students letting me know that she’d been accepted Early Decision to an incredibly competitive college. I cried. And then I giggled uncontrollably. The woman one seat over gave me a funny look, not knowing that the stifled weird squeaking noise was my version of holding back from jumping up and down and yelling to the whole train about my student’s amazing news. While I was giggling a giant spotlight seemed to shine on me with that loud Thunk! you hear in the movies when the stage is dark and then it isn’t. I’m sure the entire train was looking at me; like that scene in “The Lonely Guy” when Steve Martin goes out to dinner alone. Only they weren’t looking at me because I was awkward; they were looking at me because I was experiencing the fabulousness of someone else’s magical moment. I was glowing.
Celebrities are cool. But they’re only cool because of us. Not to discredit JT. He’s pretty amazingly cool.
But, so are we!
My friends shine light like there’s no tomorrow. And my students, my students are stars. My nieces and nephew, beaming. My brother, on fire. My parents and the rest of my family are all kinds of lit up with coolness. And, on a good day, when I’m surrounded by all of the energy and light of the amazing people in my life, I am a firework.
That’s UBUNTU. You glow, I glow, We glow.
There’s enough light to go around. Shine some. It’s fun.
jackdaddy
05 Dec 2011 30 Comments
in gratitude, life, mindfulness, Uncategorized
It’s Monday and everyone’s dreaming about Friday.
I hadn’t even made it through ten minutes of the workday and people were already moaning about the weekend being over, how much they can’t wait for vacation, how tired they are, how much they hate Mondays.
Don’t get me wrong, I was right there with them. This morning my alarm clock and I were far from friends. I managed to get through the day. I whined occasionally about how I didn’t feel good, raced through to get as much work done as I possibly could and then got out of there as soon as I possibly could.
Monday. Done.
And then I saw a note that an old friend wrote about her day. She wrote about the kindness of others, the kindness she experienced while running errands with her father who has Parkinson’s. She wrote about the gentle greeting of the woman at the dry cleaner who hugged her dad upon his arrival and departure and about the man who sang a Christmas carol while helping her dad walk and about the many people who waited with patience as she and her dad slowly made their way through doors.
Her note made me reflect on my own day, the day I had wished away.
The little girl bogged down with a huge backpack and giant saxophone case who rushed to hold the door open for me this morning. The excitement in the eyes of one of my kids who got her first college acceptance in the mail. The cup of hot tea my mom joined me for after a long day at work. The old man who waved me in to merge with traffic even though everyone behind him was honking. The texts with Kate about the amazing bowl full of heads that she crocheted for me. The memory of my friend’s dad playing the drums with wild abandon in his pajamas in their front hallway.
Thank you to my old friend and her jackdaddy for reminding me that today is more important than tomorrow.
My Monday wasn’t much, but it sure had it’s beautiful moments.
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more clapping, more growth!
28 Nov 2011 18 Comments
in innerwisdom, life, milestones
I have a love/hate relationship with milestones.
When I was little, milestones were pretty much the most spectacular thing on the planet. Before I even knew what I was doing, people were celebrating my accomplishments. I crawled! I cut a tooth! I pooped on the potty! All pretty phenomenal stuff, I know, but none of which I can really take credit for. It was all stuff that just happened as a matter of course, but man, people were clapping for me and giving me stickers and making me feel like I was the greatest thing on earth for tying my own shoes!
I suppose there’s so much fanfare because each of these moments is an indicator of growth and the acknowledgement of progress encourages more.
Rites of passage, the crossing of thresholds, the reaching of milestones… when we are little, these all just sort of happen to us and then one day we wake up and, all of a sudden, no one is celebrating every little thing that we do. Spotlight off, curtain drawn.
Unless it’s your wedding day, or a graduation, the ribbon-cutting for your own business, or the birth of your baby, there’s not a whole lot of clapping going on once you become an adult. And, sure, for some of us, our progress is less visible the older we get. It’s no surprise that I hear no one cheering for my gray hair. Or that no one’s throwing a party for their best friend’s ability to balance a full-time job, 3 kids, graduate school and a giant house or calling all their friends to crow about their son’s decision to quit the job that is making him miserable or sending out a happy newsletter about their own divorce. For the most part, except for on your birthday, the applause have stopped.
I get that. It would be weird and contrived and kind of annoying if we all ran around with pompoms to cheer each other on through all of life’s challenges. But if we are so game to celebrate the reaching of milestones, why are we equally game to question and judge and doubt each other and ourselves for not reaching them?
I’ve avoided a few of the milestones deemed important in our culture. I haven’t gotten married. I’m pushing 40 and don’t have any children. I traded in the gift registry for questions about why? why not? when? who? how come? I ask myself those questions, too. Why haven’t I? What does it all mean? If I never reach these milestones is that the equivalent, now, of never having learned to poop on the potty? Have I somehow missed the boat? Or, worse yet…failed?
I’m sure each of us has lingering questions about the choices we make in our lives… am I doing the right thing? am I making a mistake? will I regret this? am I going to be a big, fat loser and die lonely?
Perhaps the most difficult thresholds to cross are the choices that we make every single day about how we will live our lives. It is these choices that are the proof of our growth. Our conscious, well-thought out, intentional decisions are the proof that we are growing and questioning and changing and challenging ourselves; that we are making progress.
And even though we make these choices for ourselves and our growth may not mean anything to anyone else and we don’t need a pat on the back for everything that we do….
It feels damn good to be celebrated. It feels amazing to be validated. I know because I got celebrated this week by my family and friends and I feel like I could conquer the world right now.
And it feels great to validate and celebrate others. I know because I have the great fortune to get to do this every single day in my work and it makes me happy.
I’m pretty sure it feels incredible to celebrate oneself. I’m still figuring that one out…
Maybe that will be my next milestone.
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taking stock
22 Nov 2011 8 Comments
in gratitude
Yesterday I went to the mall. I very rarely take the plunge, anymore, into consumer crazytown but I had a coupon and a friend needed a new pair of shoes, so off I went.
It was full on Christmas. Music piped in, decorations were hanging from every nook and cranny, even Santa was there, holding court with a few bored elves in center court. The stores were chock-a-block stocked to the gills with schlock. The windows were filled with extravagant displays of possible presents for everyone and anyone. And while I’m a huge fan of Santa, love hearing, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” no matter what time of year it is, and generally am in love with ornaments of all shapes and sizes; I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
This week, I just want to celebrate Thanksgiving.
In all of the rush of our crazy culture, the day designated for us to slow down and give thanks for all that we have gets rushed out of the door for all that we think we need.
In fact, all that we really need is what this week is all about.
This week, many of us that will descend on a home full of loved ones for a feast lit by candles and dessert enough to feed an army. Some of us will spend the day with just one other and order take-out and watch a movie. A bunch of us will whine about our families and how someone did something to someone that someone thought was something awful. And a few of us won’t have anywhere special to go or anything special to eat.
No matter what our Thanksgiving day plans, each of us has something in our lives to be grateful for, someone in our lives that makes our days better or some moment that has been meaningful to us.
No matter where I am or who I am with or what my situation is on Thanksgiving; this week is an opportunity to take stock. Not of all the things I have to do to get ready for Christmas; but of all that I have to be grateful for right now in this very moment.
I’ll be making my grandma’s noodles and knitting with my niece. I’ll be in the warm company of most of my family with a full belly and a full heart. I’ll be thinking about those whose situations may be different from my own. I’ll be worrying about a few of my students who won’t have enough to eat and I’ll be sending out good vibes to a great friend whose space is being invaded by folks she’s not comfortable with.
I’ll be taking stock of all that is good in my life: Family. Love. Food. Warmth. Friends. Shelter. Meaningful Work. Freedom.
Christmas shopping can wait. This week, I just want to be grateful.
eat the whole pie
16 Nov 2011 12 Comments
in mindfulness
I have a lot on my plate.
You know, the kind of overflowing-plate-feeling that jolts you awake at 3:42 in the morning? Where you toss and turn until you get up and write down what you’re thinking for fear that you’ll forget it and things, then, wouldn’t be as they should?
I’m busy. Aren’t we all?
I am well aware that my busy is ridiculously un-busy compared to most. I don’t have any kids, I don’t have a yard, I don’t sit in traffic on my way to work. But somehow, I am always consumed with something. Even when I’m relaxing, I am planning my next move, thinking about what’s next and all the million and five things that I have to do, should do, could do.
It seems as if everyone around me is on this same crazed trip. We’ve been programmed this way. To do. To have. To know. To get where we are going.
Somewhere along the crazy rat race of it all, I have forgotten that I already am where I am going.
My dad and I went on a trip a few years back up to Newfoundland; 3600 miles on the back of my dad’s bike. He mapped out the trip, plotted our course and steered the beemer; all I had to do was hold on.
In the first minutes of the trip I marveled at how much I could smell, hear, see from my perch on the road. And then, just outside of Hartford, my mind took over.
Instead of just being, I began thinking about being. And then I began criticizing myself for thinking!
Before I knew it we were halfway to Nova Scotia and I had already planned and re-planned the next year of my life, judged myself for it and forgotten all about how amazing the wind felt rushing through my helmet and how cool it was to smell the trees as we entered Maine. I had no where to go but my mind wouldn’t stop.
We pulled into a pie-shack that Dad had raved about and ordered one up for the two of us. Not one slice, one pie. Dad stretched and proclaimed, “this is living!” and we sat together at a picnic table on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
I can still taste those blueberries. I can still hear Dad making up stories about the lives of the little old ladies who worked in the shack. I can hear the cars whizzing by and feel the soreness of my butt from not being used to the bike seat. My mind was quiet enough, finally, to notice and really feel all of those things.
We ate the whole amazingly delicious pie.
Yup, life is busy. My mind is busy. I can plan my next move three-million times. I can run myself ragged with work and school and obligations. I can try to find that next-best thing that might just be around the corner.
Or, I can slow down and savor the now.
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jumping in
10 Nov 2011 21 Comments
in innerwisdom
It takes me a long time to make a big decision.
I am not rash, I don’t leap without looking; in fact, I deliberated over what car to buy for a year before I finally took the plunge. I say this with a mix of pride and shame. On the one hand, I honor the side of myself that thinks things through, that weighs the pros and cons. On the other, I have always envied those lucky folks who can just choose, on the spot, without guilt or shame or remorse.
Don’t get me wrong, I take risks. I just take them with a whole lot of analyzing beforehand:
How will this feel? What will it be like? What are the consequences? Who might I disappoint? Why? How? When? What if I fail?
There always comes a time in my thought process when I realize that these questions are really not about me; they are all about others; that looming fear that somehow my decisions will not be good enough, wise enough, practical enough, cool enough, smart enough, well executed enough in the eyes of someone else.
Judgement is uncomfortable, so I tend to try to avoid it. The truth is, I can’t. No one can. Someone will always have something to say, good or bad or otherwise.
When I let that go and decide that the feedback from others only carries whatever weight I choose to give it, when I finally pull the trigger and make a decision, I feel an amazing weight lifted from my shoulders. All of the questions I’d been carrying around become answers, all of the doubts I’d been holding become possibilities.
The decision to share thoughts on a blog is a weird one. All of those scary questions come up for me: who cares what I have to say? What if I embarrass myself? What if no one reads it? What if? What if? What if?
My innerjudge pulls out the gavel with both hands and warns me to keep my thoughts to myself!
My innerwisdom has a louder voice today, it’s asking me, Why not?
And as my innerwisdom tends to be my greatest guide, I am jumping in.
I am choosing courage over comfort.
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