Friday, April 12, 2013

In the Weeds

I spent a few hours pulling weeds out of our flower beds this afternoon. Actually, it might be more accurate to say I spent that time looking for flowers in our weed beds. I've completely neglected our yard this year.

There were several excellent reasons for that, but mother nature wasn't interested in any of them, so the weeds continued to choke the tulips and the little azalea bushes which I had planted last year, until I finally intervened. 


It was an imperfect effort, at best. Had you not seen the enormous mess it was before (or the four bags of yard waste I accumulated) you might reasonably have assumed the beds were still being ignored, as they could surely stand many more hours of attention. But it was yet another chance for me to practice imperfectionism and enoughness.


As I dug and pulled, I found myself thinking about how popular weeds are in folk wisdom, figures of speech, analogies, and such. (Click here for a few examples.) A pastor friend once told me he liked to pull weeds while thinking about what to say in his sermons, and I've known others who found weeding to be stress-reducing, or otherwise satisfying.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm a big fan of weed-pulling (especially if you ask my fussy back), but I have been thinking lately about the idea that our outer worlds tend to reflect our inner worlds, so maybe, in addition to making our yard more presentable, clearing four big bags of weeds outside will in some small but significant way help reduce the mental cobwebs inside my mind/psyche, as well?

I have lots more clearing to do--inside and out--but this felt like a worthwhile start and even a hint of a return to normalcy after a long stretch of crisis management related to my parents' medical concerns. After all, what's more normal than weed-pulling? It's a tiny tortoise step, to be sure, but one I can gradually build on even as I continue to attend to the ongoing needs of my mother and father
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Tuesday, April 9, 2013

recovery under stress

There was a popular health and fitness author in the 80s named Covert Bailey who used to talk about the importance of what he called "recovery under stress" in cardio exercise. The idea was to boost your workouts by including occasional brief bursts of high intensity activity amidst your lower intensity exercise.

An example would be to sprinkle your fitness walk with a few 20-30 second jogs or sprints. The most valuable part of this strategy to your cardiovascular system, as I recall, was not the sprint itself, but the work your body did to recover from the sprint while you continued to walk afterward.

Lately, I've been thinking about the concept of recovery under stress in another context: my mother's cancer treatment. The old paradigm for cancer patients was to rest as much as possible and try not to exert yourself, but today the medical world has figured out that patients who remain active and engaged in life tend to have better outcomes. This doesn't mean that patients never need to modify their activities, of course, but it does mean that waiting until they feel better to start moving, eating well, and actively participating in their lives isn't usually advisable. In other words, don't wait until you complete your treatment to live your life.


As a world-class procrastinator, I am forever coming up against the temptation to wait to act on any number of things until conditions are more favorable. Recovery, whether from a bad cold or a break-up, a serious illness or an addiction, can be a socially acceptable excuse not to act on things, but one I don't recommend overindulgence in. Modify your intensity or adjust your expectations, perhaps, but don't give up on important things, especially if they have the potential to contribute to your recovery. As with the cardio example above, walk as slowly as you need to after a sprint, but don't stop dead still.


The concept extends to all kinds projects which are important to us but we put off because the time never seems right. There is no perfect time. Once we've done what we reasonably can to prepare, at some point we just have to leap. If we stumble as a result... well, we'll have yet another opportunity to recover under stress.


And there's another obvious reason not to wait until the perfect time or until we think the circumstances will be the most favorable: Opportunities have an expiration date that you can't always see in advance. If you make a habit of always waiting, you'll wake up one day and realize it's too late to do many of those important things you've been meaning to do but never quite got around to.
Once again, perfectionism robs us of experiences we could have had without all that added stress and anxiety, simply by allowing ourselves to do things imperfectly.


With all this in mind, I spent some time at Callaway Gardens yesterday afternoon, while the azaleas were in full bloom. I had plenty of other things to do, but spring doesn't last forever, and beautiful sunny days are a gift to be enjoyed. I'm grateful that I was able to go.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Standing Tall vs. Leaning Forward

I haven't read Sheryl Sandberg's book, Lean In, but I have read several articles about it, including Why I'd Rather Stand Up Straight Than Lean In by Kristin van Ogtrop, which I came across online this afternoon. The comments below the post revealed significant differences of opinion, and people who had read the book pointed out that those who had not were making assumptions about what Ms. Sandberg meant by the title, some of which may not be accurate.

Metaphors can be tricky things, and even the best can be pushed to the breaking point (which I hope not to demonstrate below, but we'll see...). At the risk of mixing my metaphors, it's clear that the suggestion that women should "lean in" when it comes to the workplace--or that they aren't already doing so--is ruffling a lot of feathers.

I don't want to take issue with a book I've never read by an author I don't know, but in thinking about this particular analogy, it's clear that leaning in doesn't mean the same thing to everyone. It also occurs to me that even if you decide you would rather focus on finding balance than leaning in, striking that balance might turn out to involve quite a bit of forward leaning, depending upon what surface you find yourself on.



Is it a level playing field? Is the ground beneath you solid and stationary? Or have you been navigating on shifting sand or perhaps trying to float on water? Are there waves you will have to surf to avoid being pulled under? That won't be easy to do while standing up straight. Are you standing on a the side of a hill or down in a valley? Is it rocky or slippery or otherwise hard to get your footing? Is the wind blowing? Do you have support?

We are not all dealing with the same terrain, so to suggest that everyone should simply stand up straight and not worry about leaning in is to overlook the realities of privilege and preference. Even the same person encounters different environments at various points of her life. A woman who leans in at 40 may be ready to lean back at 80. 

I suspect that Ms. Sandberg and Ms. Van Ogtrop would agree that there is no one-size-fits-all answer for all women, much less all human beings. As we endeavor to find the posture which best serves us and others in this moment, may we also respect those who make very different choices than our own.


Saturday, April 6, 2013

Imperfectionism

I once (okay... probably more than once), in response to someone's description of me as a perfectionist, went into a major rant about how she was mistaken and I was NOT, in fact, a perfectionist. I didn't even like the word. It certainly didn't apply to me, I explained, because I didn't expect anything to be perfect. I was striving for excellence. I didn't believe human beings were capable of perfection, so how could I possibly be a perfectionist???

The irony of being so perfectionistic about even the use of word, "perfectionist" was lost on me. Also lost on me, back then, was the strong connection between procrastination and perfectionism. I would readily have admitted to chronic procrastination, but would undoubtedly have cited it as further evidence that I couldn't possibly be a perfectionist.

I've learned a thing or two about perfectionism since those days, especially from the work of experts like Brene Brown and Christiane Northrup. Dr. Brown's excellent book, The Gifts of Imperfection, was full of aha moments for me. But I still have to make a conscious effort not to get caught up in perfectionism and to recognize enoughness.

On April 1st, I signed up for a blogging challenge. No, it wasn't an April Fool's joke. If you pay attention to blogs at all, you've probably seen these from time to time. In this case, you set a goal to blog daily for 30 days, and you receive encouraging reminders and helpful hints in your inbox each day. On an impulse, I signed up, since it was free and looked like it might be kinda neat.

I've actually been blogging daily for a while now, but not here. My mom is in cancer treatment, and dad had a heart attack in January (adding to several several serious existing health problems), so I post daily updates about them for friends and family on a CaringBridge website. But I'd been thinking of trying to do more of my own blogging again, and this opportunity seemed like a way to move back in that direction.

I don't have any particular desire to blog every day, but that's how the challenge was set up, so I thought I'd give it a try, without being perfectionistic about it. The first couple of days went fine. On day 3, I got a late start and struggled to finish my post before midnight. But I made it.

Thursday was day 4, and I completely forgot. I didn't even realize it until I sat down to blog on Friday. Well, damn. I wasn't sure I'd blog all 30 days, but I didn't expect to blow it after only 3. It wasn't one of those impossible days either--the ones I've spent with mom at the hospital for hours or when I've been completely consumed with putting out fires of various kinds. I could have written a blog post. I just didn't.

So now what? My first impulse was that I was now off the hook, having already broken my measly little three-day streak. No need to bother to blog anymore for a while.  [Yep, all or nothing thinking. Perfectionist? Me?? Nooooo...] Another voice within me said, what difference does it make? You didn't really want to blog daily anyway. But the loudest voice by far was my inner critic: She was irked and couldn't believe I didn't even make it to day 4.

Ultimately, I decided that the chance to practice imperfectionism is at least as valuable as the chance to work on my blogging. And I don't even have to choose between the two. I did go ahead and write a blog post on Friday, and I'm writing this one on Saturday.

It feels a little like that very first ding in the side of your brand new car. It's unsettling at first, but ultimately you can drive and park with a bit more ease, knowing the thing you've been dreading has already happened, and the world didn't come to an end.

I doubt I'll blog every single day for the rest of the month, but I do intend to blog frequently. I'll also be giving some thought to how often to blog beyond April, but my current thought is that once or twice a week is plenty. My best lesson from the blogging challenge so far, though, has been the reminder that perfectionism is toxic, and I'm determined to let go of it and become an imperfecionist.

Breath

When Dr. Andrew Weil is asked what single health practice he would recommend to people, were he limited to only one recommendation, his answer is to have them focus on their breath. Since breathing is something we usually do automatically, it may seem an odd answer, on the surface. If you have spent any time doing breath work or in meditation practices which attend to the breath, you will likely be less surprised by his answer. Dr. Weil says the four qualities to develop in your breathing over time are to make it deeper, slower, quieter, and more regular.


In many cultures the word for spirit and the word for breath are the same. That seems noteworthy to me. As a voice teacher, breathing is something I give a significant amount of attention to for a number of reasons, as I regularly teach students how to breath in a way that not only supports their singing but tends to be closer to the way they were born breathing than how they have been socialized to breathe over the years.

Still, I too often forget that this wonderful key to better physical and mental health is literally right under my nose. Today, I am setting an intention to focus more on my breathing--in exercise, in meditation, in singing, in simply being.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Spring Cleaning

After a slightly shaky start, spring has sprung in Atlanta. Although the pollen count here can get so high that it causes real problems for many of us, I think spring is still my favorite season, with its mild temperatures, new growth, and colorful blossoms. I can hardly wait for local farmer's markets to open.

Spring cleaning is also associated with this time of year. Ordinarily, I can't claim that any sort of clean up effort is something I look forward to, but somehow this year feels different. Maybe it's a testament to just how cluttered our home is at the moment, but I'm actually looking forward to letting go of things we no longer need and clearing some space. Our outer worlds tend to be a reflection of our inner worlds, so I plan to do some inner work, as well.

Do you have personal rituals you associate with the change of seasons? Will you be doing any (physical, mental, and/or emotional) spring cleaning this year?

Social Media: A Clash of Seasons




I'll bet fully half of the arguments I've had with loved ones over the years had less to do with core disagreements than unfortunate timing: trying to be funny when my spouse was dead serious; feeling outraged by an injustice my friend was not of a mind to raise her blood pressure over; trying to fix someone else's problem when what he really needed was for me to listen.

It happens often. We may not be on opposite sides of an issue so much as different wave lengths, and it rarely ends well. If you've ever had someone suggest to you in the midst of an argument that you should calm down or stop "over-reacting," you also understand that even if there is some merit in the observation, pointing it out in that moment (or in that particular way) isn't helpful.

I wonder if social media hasn't increased this kind of miscommunication. A glance at any Twitter stream or Facebook feed reveals a jumble of largely unrelated reactions to life. In the old days, I mostly had conversations with people I was actively engaged with in some way--maybe attending a concert, taking a class, or working on a project together. We might not share all the same opinions, but riding together to a worship service, shopping mall, or Weight Watcher's meeting still provides a common denominator.

Without a shared experience, however, it takes more effort to really connect. We don't have to check in or tune in at all before we start posting. I can--and often do--post without much regard for what's going on with others. How can that possibly foster connection, which Dr. Brene Brown defines as, "the energy that is created between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment"?

Add to that the fact that inflection is notoriously hard to intuit online--a reality only marginally eased by the overuse of emoticons and exclamation points--as well as the way conversation threads form between unrelated people in the midst of very different experiences: one at work, another at leisure, some in a rush to post and run, others semi-permanently stationed at their laptops. It's a recipe for misunderstanding and conflict, especially if you haven't limited your online friends and followers to those who already think much like you do.

Social media is a place where our personal worlds converge and sometimes collide. I find this kind of disconnection particularly challenging when there is friction between commenters on my own Facebook page who clearly aren't attuned to one another. I feel compelled to act as a host. Do I stay out of it or try to moderate a bit, knowing I may further irritate everyone with my awkward peacemaking attempts?

    a time to build up, a time to break down, 
    a time to dance, a time to mourn,
    a time to cast away stones, 
    a time to gather stones together

I'm not sure how we improve these communications. As with most things, I suspect greater awareness, including self-awareness, would help. Your time to laugh may be my time to weep; your time to kill may be my time to heal. Your time to chill out and play games may be my time to garner support for a cause which is deeply important to me. My time to rail against injustice may be your time to regroup. My time to step out and take a risk may be your time to play it safe so you can focus on something completely different. Timing is everything.

I do know that telling someone who feels oppressed or mistreated to be patient is roughly as effective as suggesting, mid-dispute, that your spouse needs to calm down. Unless your goal is to escalate the argument, don't bother. We don't get to define the experiences of others or tell them how to feel. If you do relate to how the other person feels, empathy is likely to be more valuable than advice.

Embrace, reject, or equivocate with social media as you will, but may we never forget that there are real live human beings behind those various tweets and Facebook comments, each dealing with their own stuff, just as we are. Laughing, weeping, planting, reaping, each in due season.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

being present

I've been thinking about awareness and what it means to stay in the present moment. I spend the vast majority of my moments physically present but mentally elsewhere--often either worrying about the future or reliving the past.

It's not a new topic for me. I especially ponder these things when I am returning to a meditation practice after a long absence. In this case, a new and fertile context in which to practice mindfulness is as caregiver to my parents, who have both been quite ill in recent months.


Today, I was watching a YouTube video of one of my father's violin teachers, Jascha Heifetz, as he played a famous and extremely challenging work from memory in a recording studio. He did it in one take:


It is not a flawless performance. In this day and age, a recording engineer would surely be tempted to go in and "clean up" a few little imperfections here and there. But what stands out for me in this and virtually every recording I've ever heard from this violinist, even beyond his evident skill and artistry, is his incredible focus. Whenever he is playing the violin, Mr. Heifetz is a shining example of a human being in flow, fully present, from moment to moment.

It is essential to cultivate this kind of awareness in performing. Even an instant of reaching back in memory to a passage you already played (perhaps differently than you expected) or getting ahead of yourself and dropping your concentration out of sheer relief, once you make it through a particularly difficult passage or when the end is finally in sight, can cause an entire performance to unravel.

I have reminded students and choirs many times of this very phenomenon just before they go on stage: Stay focused; stay present. If something happens that you don't like or didn't expect--whether good or bad--don't dwell on it; don't get stuck there. It's not the time to investigate. You can reflect on it later. Stay with what you are actually singing or playing, not what you already did or will be doing in a few moments.

While I have sporadically attempted mindfulness meditation during some periods of my life and found it to be a valuable practice, I'm a long way from what anyone could call an experienced mediator in any classic, formal sense. But I am an experienced musician, teacher, and performer and the child of two even more experienced musicians, teachers, and performers. I grew up in an environment which was focused on making beautiful music. So my Epiphany for today is that I have far more experience in mindfulness practice than I had previously recognized.

What are the areas of your life or the activities during which you feel most fully present and alive?