2015: Emerging

Last year was quite a roller coaster. The tragic grand finale was the loss of my father to heart failure, after 20 years of serious health problems. His funeral was December 27th. We had lost mom to cancer only 18 months prior. Having focused on the care of my parents for so long, ushering in a new year feels a bit like emerging from a cave after three years. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it or what to expect.

I had not planned to engage in popular new year preparations like making resolutions, poking fun at resolutions, setting intentions (so as to avoid calling them resolutions) or choosing a word for the coming year as a theme or focus. Still reeling from the past few especially difficult weeks, I felt ill-prepared to do any of those things and was hardly in the mood to sign up for some clever word-choosing app or Start Your New Year Right workshop or another of the tiresome offers flooding my email and heavily promoted on social media.

Quite by accident (or perhaps not at all by accident, depending on your feelings about such things...) I came upon a comment in a Facebook group in which a friend shared that she had selected the word "emerge" for 2015. Her chosen word met unexpected resonance within me. After a day or two of pondering, I decided to adopt it, as well. Word or no word, 2015 will necessarily be--in at least some ways--a year of emergence for me. I'm still feeling too sad at this point to describe myself as excited about that, but I am, at the very least, curious about how things will unfold.

I had been the one member of our family to miraculously avoid the colds and flu so many struggled with in November and December. By January, however, the weeks of worry and not sleeping enough had taken their toll on my immune system, and by the evening of January 1st, I was quite ill.

Not being able to keep food down for the first 48 hours of the new year is a bit like getting that first ding on your brand new car the same day you drive it off the lot. It's terribly distressing in the moment, but, once you get past it, there's almost a sense of relief that you've gone ahead and gotten it over with. The pressure for everything to remain perfect as long as possible has already been relieved.

Ironically, I had made a renewed commitment to self-care immediately after dad's death. I tried to take proper care of myself before dad died, for that matter, but when you are dealing with intense situations, as we were in dad's final months, there are limits to what is reasonable or even possible. There is no shortage of people telling you to take care of yourself, of course, but generally those reminders are unhelpful, at that point.

Rather than constantly weighing the deluge of advice from outside sources, I'm making an effort to better tune in to what my own body and spirit are telling me. In an effort to do just that, when I got sick on New Year's Day, I really tried to pay attention. Did I need water? Rest? Stillness? Activity? Music? Quiet? Darkness? Warmth?

Thankfully, I am feeling much better, now, but I want to continue to tune in to what is mostly likely to keep me on a path of health and wholeness, moving forward. A useful question for me to consider periodically has been, "What are the lessons in this?" I'm learning that asking myself in a compassionate rather than judgmental way yields far more useful information. So far, the answers apply to getting over a virus as well as to the process of grieving:

Go slowly.

Be gentle.

Deep breaths.

Plenty of water.

Be selective.

Small bites/portions/steps.

Rest often.

Take care.

Use as much (or as little) support as needed.

Keep listening.

When you have spent a long while deep inside a cave, and it's finally time to head back out into civilization, with its bright lights and changing weather conditions, surely the list above is worth being mindful of, as you emerge.

Mindful Monday - Noticing Beauty

I've mentioned my gratitude practice of writing five things that I'm thankful for in a journal each night. It's a simple thing to do, but over time the resulting shift in mindset has been profound. It's a way to train myself to watch for good things.

Too often we fall into the habit of doing just the opposite. It's understandable, really. We watch for what's wrong so we can fix or avoid it (or--let's face it--complain about it). There's value in doing some of that. Parents teach children to watch where they are going so they don't step into holes or walk into walls or get run over by trucks.

I'm not taking issue with watching out for dangerous stuff. It's just that, somewhere along the line, in constantly being alert to the things that might cause trouble or need attention, we push what is good and waiting to be enjoyed further and further into the background. If we aren't careful, we can lose touch with it entirely.

Mark Twain once said, "To the man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail."  We have become a society of hammer-holders, watching for things to whack.

But here's the hopeful part...

Now that fancy cell phones have become standard equipment, most of us also walk around with cameras. Of course, you can take pictures of anything with a camera, but we especially enjoy taking photos of people and things we love. And digital photography makes it easy to take and share many more of these beautiful pictures than would have been practical with film.

The fastest growing social media sites now are the ones like Instagram and Pinterest, which emphasize beautiful photos and other visuals. Twitter has recently done a major overhaul that puts far more emphasis on photos than "tweets" alone. On Facebook, engagement goes WAY up when you post a photo with your commentary, while articles without thumbnails are ignored. The same is true for blog posts. No one wants to read a blog without pictures.

There's no question that our society is becoming more visually oriented (a real challenge for the visually impaired). Wouldn't it be nice if we could become more beauty oriented, while we are at it? How might the cameras, personal recorders, and music players we carry around in our cell phones facilitate such a shift?

If listing gratitudes every night doesn't appeal to you, but paying attention to the beauty that surrounds you does, consider using that device to help you document goodness of various kinds. Snap a photo of at least one thing you like each day, no matter how small, and post it to Instagram. Or record beautiful sounds you hear. You could also use a voice recorder (or pen and paper!) to describe things that feel, smell, or taste wonderful--fresh rain, soft grass, warm sun, sweet peaches--as you experience them. 

The possibilities are endless, but the point is to find ways to be mindful of what is already good in your life, and focus more of your energy there.

I'd love to hear other ways you have found to do this. Maybe gardening, cooking, painting, or reading poetry? If you have an Instagram and/or Pinterest account you'd like to share, please include it in the comments below. (I'm lroseen on Instagram and Lenora Roseen on Pinterest.)

One way or another, let's pay attention to the beauty in our lives. 

Mindful Monday - Procrastination

Ironically, this is a blog post I intended to write last Monday, until things got a little crazy. I almost called it, "One More Thing X 1000," inspired by my all-too-predictable difficulty getting out the door in a reasonable amount of time when heading from Asheville, NC back to Atlanta, GA.

Getting ready to go is not a new challenge for me, but I do find it particularly difficult when I'm leaving town because the ramifications of forgetting about something can be even more problematic if it will be days or weeks before I return.

All I have to do to activate an entire ONE MORE THING chain reaction is announce (or even think!) that I'm almost ready to leave. It works much like those annoying spring loaded dispensers you now find in grocery stores and pharmacies that automatically advance the remaining merchandise (yogurt, cold medicine, pantyhose...) as soon as you remove the item in the front. Similarly, as soon as I do the one last thing prompted by putting my hand on the doorknob to leave, another urgent "to do" will spring up in my face.

I've been thinking about how mindfulness might be of value in dealing with this uncomfortable tendency.

The more things I fail to do on time, the more I kick myself for not acting sooner. Meanwhile, the clutter continues to pile up, and the to do list gets longer and longer. It is important to take responsibility for our actions, but if berating ourselves for shortcomings was an effective motivator, I would have stopped procrastinating a long time ago. By the time the question, "WHY DO I ALWAYS DO THIS?" is echoing inside my head, it has ceased to be a genuine inquiry.

Maybe I should ask myself the same question without the caps lock and when I'm not so pressed for time. [Note: If there is never a moment when I'm not pressed for time, that's a clue.]

A key to mindfulness is non-judgment in present moment awareness. Self-judgment is far more paralyzing than enlightening. If I can avoid the quicksand of judgment, there's a better chance I can get to the bottom of things via open and honest inquiry into what is going on.

Mindfulness Meditation is also known as Insight Meditation. I used to wonder why. Having now spent some time in this practice, I understand that mindfulness often leads to insight.

One of the lessons of mindfulness for me is how often my habitual patterns turn out to be diversions--smoke screens that obscure something else I'm avoiding. What I'm doing may be justifiable at face value, but on another level it keeps me in a state of turmoil that provides an excuse not to tackle other important things.

When we inquire without judgment, there is no need to become defensive, and once we stop defending our misery, we can start to make new choices.

Surely, the first step in initiating positive change is seeing things for what they are. In fact, the acceptance of unembellished reality is a major change in itself. Once we step out of the drama, even briefly, we can make additional changes (or mindfully choose not to) based on how things truly are, rather than on the talking points we've developed for ourselves--the narratives we design to justify our stuckness.

What if we let it be okay to be stuck for a while? What if it's just as okay not to be stuck anymore? What if I choose to act from curiosity instead of anger? What if I let go of the need to minimize or exaggerate? What if I stop apologizing or justifying and simply accept the reality of my present experience, understanding that it need not determine my future, in spite of my past?

It seems to me that staying focused on the present (or returning to it when I inevitably stray) allows optimal energy to be applied to the matter at hand and to the very next appropriate action.

Put more simply: Obsessing over our mistakes doesn't provide protection from consequences or the judgments of others. It only keeps us from clearly assessing situations and implementing effective solutions. It channels power away from creative and productive realms and toward destructive ones.

A case could be made that writing a blog post about procrastination is just another example of dwelling on a problem rather than finding solutions. And if all I do is write about procrastination? Sure. I've stopped short of meaningful progress.

I submit, however, that dwelling with a problem--sitting down with it long enough to let the chaff fall away and discover its heart and complexity and nuance--is usually better than a knee-jerk reaction. Understanding a problem is an essential first step that we foolishly try to skip. We can't--and shouldn't--ponder a problem indefinitely or understand everything there is to know before taking action, but most of us could use a little more thoughtful dwelling, and a lot less mindless reaction.

Reactions aren't typically even about solutions; they are about avoidance. We can't escape what is, but we sure try. Pain. Grief. Shame. Fear. We do whatever we can to numb those emotions, distract ourselves from them, or run away from them entirely. It doesn't work, though. More often than not, it just adds another layer of muck to be dealt with.

This has become a pretty heavy post for such a seemingly light topic, hasn't it?

Here's the thing: Sometimes not wanting to vacuum is just about not wanting to vacuum; other times it's about more than that. If you frequently find yourself putting off things that need to be done, the best way I know to find out which it is, is to sit with it.

Sit there and BE with not wanting to _____________ .
Dwell with it. Listen deeply. Find out what's going on.

You can fill in the blank above with anything from vacuuming to turning off the television to calling your mom to finding a new job to ending a dysfunctional relationship to going to AA or Al-Anon.

If you don't have much practice with mindfulness, it's nice when you can begin with the easy stuff, then start to apply that gained experience to the harder stuff. So, if you aren't in crisis? By all means, start by considering why you don't want to vacuum. Become aware of your feelings about it. But don't be surprised if, when you reach down into the "easy" stuff, you discover other stuff inside.

Mindful Monday - Refreshment

This morning, the idea came to me of mindfulness as a sort of real life auto-refresh. Admittedly, it's not the most elegant of metaphors, but I think it kinda works. If I sit at my computer and check email when the page has not been refreshed recently, I won't be acting on the best information available, so I may devote unnecessary energy to a problem which has already been resolved or miss something more important that just happened.

Now that my computer (another metaphor...) is older and the memory is often over-taxed, clicking the refresh icon isn't always enough. Sometimes, I have to restart in order to get things moving again.

I'm not saying we should be afraid to walk away from our computers or cell phones for fear we will miss something; I'm suggesting there is considerable value in finding ways to tune in to what is happening in the here-and-now and that if we want to function well, we need to refresh ourselves regularly and restart occasionally.

Last January, I set some intentions for 2014 and decided to use this blog as a weekly check-in, to track progress on my goals. My central focus for the year was (and is) mindfulness, so many of my resolutions had a mindfulness component, such as a daily meditation practice and more mindful eating and moving. My list was fairly long, and I soon discovered that I couldn't consistently tackle everything at the same time.

Now half a year beyond those winter resolutions, some still resonate while others have faded in value to me. I could double down on my original list, or I could refresh the screen and consider whether a shift in some of my January priorities may, in fact, be perfectly appropriate by June.

A subtle but important lesson which mindfulness is teaching me is that, while goals still have their place because many worthwhile endeavors take considerable time to accomplish, it's unwise to hold those goals too tightly. We learn new things. The landscape changes. Priorities shift.

If God (or any wise and trusted source) gives us clear guidance on January 1 to head down a particular path and we become so excited that we immediately vow to spend the rest of our lives plowing ahead on that course to the exclusion of all else, is that the best approach? What if we instead set out on that same path, but in a more mindful way, continuing to listen for guidance while noticing what happens as we go along and pausing for refreshment from time to time? The answer seems obvious when you spell it out that way, but not when we are immersed in all too common self-defeating habits.

I like the word refreshment and the images evoked by it: splashing in a crystal clear pool or enjoying a cool drink of clean water... perhaps a long satisfying nap or walk in nature. Even something as simple as a smile or beautiful photograph can be refreshing. I have come to regard journaling, meditation practice, devotional time, and gratitude as essential forms of refreshment for me.

Taking these steps is more than just a matter of comfort or wanting to feel pampered. When we are overdue for refreshment, we become difficult to deal with and no longer think clearly. Communication is labored; exchanges become gridlocked. Rather than opening to new possibilities, we dig in, categorically refusing to reconsider our positions in any way. We operate from fear, resentment, obligation, and judgment. It's not a healthy place to be, but sadly this posture has become commonplace, as any political or religious discourse in the public square will quickly confirm.

I'm happy to report that this past weekend was quite refreshing for me. I had some wonderful meals and got to watch fireworks with someone I love. I also spent time gazing at the mountains and did a little more meditating than usual. None of these activities made my to do list any shorter or eliminated my concerns about the future, but all have helped to renew my strength and re-align my thinking while reminding me what truly matters most in my life.

How do you refresh or completely start over when you need to? Do you have a mental list to consult of effective ways to consciously do so? Ideally, the time to formulate such a list is well before we are desperate for it. I invite your comments below.

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.