Mindful Monday - Memory Lane

I have long been fascinated by memory and curious about how it works. When we try to recall something that doesn't spring readily to mind, what exactly is it that we are doing? And how do particular things, like an old photo or the smell of freshly mown grass, suddenly activate a host of memories I haven't thought about in years?

My brother and I recently reconnected with a childhood friend from the neighborhood we grew up in. Somehow, he came across my mother's obituary online and contacted us. Shortly thereafter, my brother decided to drive through our old neighborhood and make some photos.

Not surprisingly, much has changed in 50 years, but seeing the photographs has rekindled so many memories--a million tiny moments, a favorite sundress, the scent of Sea & Ski, making ice cream, Christmas lights, coloring Easter eggs, delivering newspapers, crab apples, hula hoops, our first color television, Ed Sullivan, cartwheels on the lawn. The parade of memories is endless.

How does all this reminiscing fit with a mindfulness practice that focuses on present moment awareness? I'm not sure. But I'm noticing how memories make me feel and what arises in me when I consider them. I'm learning (or perhaps re-learnng) some lessons about attachment and the inevitability of change. It's also interesting to consider which things seemed important at the time compared to what feels important in retrospect.

As for the rest of my weekly mindfulness check-in? Well, it hasn't been very impressive. I haven't been eating mindfully or moving/exercising much. Even my meditation practice, the one thing I've been pretty consistent about since the first of the year, has been all over the map. I haven't done much reading or writing. Mostly I've been reflecting and sitting with the reflecting.

And so, we begin again...
     Back to the mat. 
           Back to the breath.
                 Back to the present moment. 

Mindful Monday - One Year

This time last year, I was staring the unthinkable in the face: My beloved mother was about to die. Doris Joan Alderman Holloway left this world on June 18, 2013, and the year of treatment between her diagnosis and that day was perhaps the most intensive mindfulness workshop I could (n)ever have signed up for. Suddenly, it felt so important to take note of everything, savor every opportunity.

I think of mom every day, but I've known all along that what our mother would want is for us to go on with our lives and be good to one another.

Conventional wisdom holds that the first year following the loss of a loved one is the hardest, but a friend mentioned that she thought the third year after her mother died might have been the hardest yet for her, at least in some ways. I felt a surge of panic at the thought that it could get even harder, but I remind myself that if we make it through one year without mother physically with us, we can make it through another.

I do wonder sometimes if I talk about mom (or her death) too much. I told myself when I sat down to work on my blog post that I should instead write about something more cheerful and interesting to others, but mom is on my heart this week. I'll understand if some readers choose to skip this particular post.

When Bill and I were planning our wedding years ago, some of the best advice I got was not to get so caught up in the preparations and implementation that I, in essence, missed my own wedding. I was surprised by how many friends confided in me that the big day which they had dreamed about for so long was little more than a blur by the time they finally got through it. I'm not sure how familiar I was with the concept of mindfulness back then, but when I heard that, I made up my mind that I was going to be as fully present as I could for our wedding day, which I still remember as truly the most joyful of my life.

That wise counsel has served me at other key points in my life since our wedding. I've learned that setting an intention to be present really does make a difference, whether for a wedding or a funeral--in a time of great joy or of deepest sorrow. My decision to establish mindfulness as a theme for the year 2014 was, in part, an attempt to carry that intention beyond those peak and valley occasions into my day-to-day living.

Grief has its own timetable, and every experience with it is unique, but my central intent since mom's passing has been to simply be with my own grief as it occurs and notice what is happening, inside and out. I don't want to repress my grief and sorrow or push it away; nor do I want to magnify it or offer it undue power. I want to acknowledge grief respectfully and compassionately without giving it license to take over my life as weeds can overtake a garden. There are moments, however, when it's a bit like trying to walk a tightrope. It is especially tricky when the wind blows.

I recently re-visited the display at the Tallulah Falls Interpretive Center about Karl Wallenda's crossing of Tallulah Gorge, which I watched nervously on live TV as a child. In that line of work, you can't watch your feet, but it's also important not to focus too far ahead. There are no shortcuts, and there is no rushing. Once you are out there, if you want to get to the other side, you have to patiently cross one step at a time, whether the wind is blowing or not.

I've been aware of so many "firsts" as they have come along in the past year without mom--our first Christmas, dad's first wedding anniversary without his wife by his side... Then yesterday, on dad's first solo Father's Day, as I wrote the date on his card, I realized how close we were to the one-year mark. There are times when I feel almost like I'm 4 years old again, and I can't believe my beautiful mommy is gone.

Our mother can never leave us completely, of course. I believe her spirit lives on. We have enduring memories and treasured photographs to enjoy. And we have more than that: Mom's greatest legacy is everything that she taught us--and continues to teach us--in a million different ways, some of which I'm still discovering. Being mindful of those lessons allows me to stay close to my mother, year after year.

Mindful Monday - Food

I'm trying to be mindful about food this year, even though I haven't been motivated to eat particularly well--at least, not consistently. Mindful eating doesn't require that I eat or avoid certain foods or even that I limit portions. Rather, it asks me to pay careful attention to food and how it affects me.

This means not mindlessly shoving snacks in my mouth while watching television or gobbling down almost anything quickly before running out the door if I'm late. It includes stopping to notice the way food smells and feels, its look and texture. It also involves paying attention to when I'm hungry and when I'm not and whether or not I stop eating once I'm satisfied. What are my food triggers? Anxiety? Sadness? Worry?

It's amazing how much there is to notice once you get serious about eating this way. I already spend a lot of time reading labels whenever I shop for my dad's groceries because his medical conditions necessitate so many dietary restrictions, but it has slowly dawned on me that in order to eat mindfully, I have to know what it is that I'm putting in my own mouth and read more labels on the food I ingest. Since I don't have a degree in chemistry or nutrition, label reading often leads to research. Thank goodness for smart phones with internet access!

For months, I've been trying to eat mindfully, yet choosing not to moderate my diet very much. I just wasn't in the mood to do what it takes to lose excess weight. The one positive affect of my mindfulness practice thus far has been taking care that the foods I splurge on are worthy of the splurge. Mindful eating discourages a lot of junk food because when you pay close attention, most of that stuff really does look, smell, feel, and/or taste like junk.

I'm reporting on all of this in such detail today, because I think I may have reached critical mass. After months of not being in the mood to eat healthfully, something seems to be shifting. I'm not sure if it's the cumulative affect of mindful eating or more a matter of finally reaching the time of year when I have access to far more appealing fresh fruits and veggies. It probably doesn't hurt that a long series of special (splurge-worthy!) occasions is finally behind me. But, for whatever combination of reasons, I find myself in the mood to eat better.

In the past couple of weeks, I've been reading about nutrition and fitness and listening to interviews with doctors, nutritionists, and other health professionals. I'm not ready to announce any new resolutions or big weight-loss goals, but here are some things I genuinely do want to work on: eating plenty of local produce, drinking more water, shifting to a higher proportion of plant-based foods in my diet, incorporating more healthy fats (high quality olive oil, coconut oil, nuts & seeds), fewer grains and other highly processed foods, less refined sugar, and fewer chemicals/additives.

Obviously, there are more healthy food rules I could add to this list, but I want to stick with choices that I believe to be sustainable for me. As a compliment to better eating, I also want to walk more, do some yoga again, and maybe even do a little weight training.

 I'm continuing to meditate each day, and I'm still interested in reading, writing, and several other things I've talked about on other Mindful Mondays, but for right now I want to concentrate my attention on food and see where that leads.

What is your approach to eating? Do you find it easier to eat well in the summer than in winter? What helps you eat healthfully? If you have experiences to share, I'd love to hear them.

Mindful Monday - Tribute

I was very sad to learn last Wednesday that Maya Angelou had died. Although she was 86, I think I somehow expected her to live on indefinitely. I was touched by the outpouring of tributes, memories, photos, and articles about her on social media, not only that day but for several days thereafter. She clearly touched the lives of a wide array of people--including some who don't otherwise agree on much.

Ever since I read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings in high school, Ms. Angelou has been an inspiration and an important teacher to me, as she has to millions. I continued to read her other books and poetry and was struck by how much life she had somehow packed into a single lifetime.

I recall watching an interview she did with Oprah Winfrey in May of last year, as my mother was dying. I knew mom would want to see the interview if she were well enough to watch it, but it had become so hard for mom to focus that I ended up watching it without her.

I enjoyed being reminded of so many wonderful Maya Angelou quotes last week. The one below has often guided me during the past year as I've struggled in mom's absence to try to deal with my dad and all his health concerns, including some memory and other cognitive challenges.

I remember the first day that it occurred to me to focus on this wisdom, after a difficult stretch with my dad. He visibly softened, and we had the best day together that we'd had in quite some time. Whenever I felt frustrated or uncertain about what to do, I would silently paraphrase Ms. Angelou's words to myself, with dad specifically in mind: "[Dad] will forget what you said, [he] will forget what you did, but [he] will never forget how you made [him] feel." As I left dad's house that evening, he seemed more content than he had in weeks. And when we said our goodbyes for the night, dad actually said to me, "You really made me feel good today."

It's quite an exercise in mindfulness to notice how your actions in the present moment are affecting those you are with. Another valuable exercise, of course, is noting your own feelings. I'm fortunate to be able to say that I always felt safe and supported in my mother's presence. I don't have her grace, but I hope I have at least learned from her how to be supportive of others.

The rest of my week doesn't seem all that worthy of a mindfulness check-in, as I have little new to report. I'm still meditating daily and trying to exercise more. I'm eating mindfully, but not all that moderately. I've made significant progress with clutter clearing, which feels good, even with so much yet do to. And I did read another book. It was non-fiction, this time (which is far more typical for me): Learning to Walk In the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor. The book was every bit as good as I expected it to be. Among other things, it was a reminder that darkness isn't all bad.

In spite of considerable reflecting, I haven't done much writing recently. As we approach the first anniversary of mom's death this month, I'll probably do more journaling. Just as darkness isn't all bad, grief isn't all bad, either. It's part of living, learning, and growing.