Tag: Meditation

Like a Phoenix

After being burnt to cinders, the Phoenix of lore, rises out of the ashes and soars with renewed grace and exuberance. However, in none of these stories do they say how long it takes. Nor do they mention, how many times, exactly, this can or will happen. Does the Phoenix have nine lives, like the cat? Or is this rebirth continual, until it learns some sort of lesson about the great beyond or life on this plane? These are the questions I ask myself in fleeting thoughts when thinking about my own story. As a Buddhist, I believe that rebirth happens, until we reach enlightenment. There are spiritual disagreements in the Buddhist world, about when that can or will happen, and by what means. But the overarching belief is that yes, we can be reborn. 

In this body, I have lived many lives. These former lives I’ve inhabited seem so long ago and hazy, like a lucid dream. But I know that I lived them. I take with me from these lives, the knowledge and experiences in which formed the adult that I’ve become and will help shape the woman I’m becoming every day. It’s strange to think that once I was a child, a rebellious teenager, a young adult, a wife- twice, and now I’m none of those things. But rather, I’m a survivor, a warrior, a mother, a partner, and an empath… just to rattle off a few things that I’ve turned into over the years. 

Much of my mental space has been occupied by manifesting the life I am meant to live, since for entirely too long, I lived a life that did not excite me. I created things that excited me, a business, a network of friends, a family, but I was stuck in the doldrum of a life without fire and passion. I cannot think of a slower, more exhausting path toward death. So, in my spiritual practice, I’ve decided to focus more on meditation. I’ve committed to meditating every day for 40 days. Spiritual leaders of multiple faiths have all come to this “40 day” thing, as a means of connecting with what I will call the Universe. Some people call this God/dess, or Source. Regardless of the choice in word we use to describe the same essential things, for some reason in many texts, 40 days is the sweet spot. Therefore, I’ve chosen that length of time for this initial phase of my practice. 

In addition to the meditation challenge that I’ve set out for myself, I’ve decided that I need to up my game. I have very much gotten lazy in a number of ways. Instead of taking the 40 days to just do a single challenge, I’m going to create my “Life Overhaul Bootcamp”. In this challenge, I’m not just going to meditate daily for at least 5 minutes. I’m also going to write at least 500 words a day (almost there right now). But wait, there’s more. Since I’m 100% a glutton for punishment, I’m also committing to do a little bit of exercise every day too. I’m short on time these days, because kiddo and work, and home, and life… but I’m committing to do all these things in like, 30-45 minutes a day. A quick workout, some meditation, and a little writing (blogging, in this case). 

I’m over feeling stagnant, like nothing is changing (despite quite literally everything changing recently). I want internal growth, maturing, and conditioning. Outwardly, I’ve got shit together. Everything’s coming up Millhouse (for all you Simpsons fans), but I’ve got a lot of things that I want to make better, and that starts with me. I want to feel calmer and more confident. I want to feel more secure in myself. I want to have better self-mastery. I want to hone my writing and develop my “brand” better. This will force me to do exactly that. I’m excited for this challenge, and I’m so grateful for where my life is at. My kiddo is happy and thriving. I’m challenged and successful doing what I’m doing. I can’t wait to see what’s coming up next.

Be sure to check in on my progress with not just the writing portion, but also the meditating and so on. I’ll be holding myself accountable here as well as celebrating my successes.

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Long Division

How does one separate something that has taken years to build? It could have taken 2 years, or 20, but each day you added bricks and build a foundation, walls, windows… it develops into a fortress to protect you from the world. This fortress is supposed to be impenetrable. It shields all the inhabitants inside. So how, and where, does one even start to take it down? Do you burn the drawbridge? Trebuchet the shit out of the exterior? It’s hard to know, I guess. Circumstances often dictate the destruction of your fort.

But what do you do if you’re not mad, but have simply decided that this fort is shit, and you don’t want to live there anymore? Do you attempt to keep the status quo until arrangements change? Do you still burn the drawbridge and trebuchet the exterior? What about a volatile situation? What then? When inside the fortress is nothing but pure chaos, and there’s fires everywhere? How does one process getting everyone to safety? What does safety even look like, when you’re bed is in flames? Are there really any survivors? Nobody escapes totally unscathed, right?

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And there’s the long division. Strangely enough, if you never unpack, it’s easier to move. But now, we must sift through every. single. thing. to determine what belongs to whom, or who gets it in the dividing process. Then, there’s the others in the fortress… what becomes of them? The friends? You know everyone chooses sides, whether or not they consciously chose a side. Even family chooses sides, despite best efforts. It’s like we drew a line, and everyone decides which side they’ll forever stand on.

What I’ve determined is the worst of all, is the feeling of sudden emptiness. Loneliness. You once had a sounding board to share in your trials and triumphs with. Now, there’s friends or family, but it’s not the same. I want to share my joys and sorrows with someone who is in the fortress WITH me. We are fighting on the same side, in the same battles. People outside the fort, they just can’t appreciate the inner workings of your brain and heart, without first having to explain yourself. That is fucking exhausting. Constantly going over the same stuff, all the time. I just want to have my heart safely in the hands of someone I don’t have to “preface” with. New is positively exciting. Electric. But old, it’s comforting, familiar. That’s not to say I want a damn thing to do with this decaying rubble, but there’s something to be said for the familiar.

My heart aches for what it doesn’t have. My mind longs for a simple life. My intuition knows that this has expired and that it’s no longer home for me. Now what do I do with myself?

 

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Love is a choice

Life, like love, is messy and complicated, difficult and flat out hard. We want it to be fun and exciting, but things bog us down, make us heavy. The trick to love, is to fight through that hard and find the things that are beautiful.

There have been times where I’m at my heaviest, and I see something so simple, a glimmer in time, and it makes me feel weightless for just a moment. It’s the breadcrumb that keeps me going. The trail leading me to the next bend in the pathway.

My life has been particularly heavy as of late, and it’s got no chance of lifting in the near future. I’ve been seething with anger at people who could have chosen love. I’ve been shattered by words and deeds, crushed by apathy and indifference. Everything has been flipped upside down.

However, just like love, hate is a choice. I can choose to be angry, sad, and destructive toward myself and others. But what good would come of it? My child would see a mother who is consumed by loathing and frustration. A mother set on destruction- destroying the ones who hurt her, and all the bonds for both sides.

I choose love. Through the fear and anger, the betrayal and malice. I choose love. Letting the anger consume me isn’t doing anyone any favors, especially my kid. I need to be a whole person, one who models the life I want to teach. I need to find the grace in what is otherwise a heartbreaking situation. For me, for my daughter.

Am I still hurt? Sure. Pissed off? Yup. But am I going to waste another moment of my life hating someone? Nobody got time for for that.

Ironically, the year of forced growth has put some important things into perspective for me. The last several years have been a bizarre re-enactment of a previous chapter in my life, but instead of playing the “me” role, I’m the other person. I see now, with glaring clarity what I did to completely derail and sabotage my own life back then. It’s taken much longer than I’d like to admit for me to come to that conclusion, but I got here.

Not only do I now recognize my shortcomings in great detail, but I perfectly understand how they felt during that time. I’ve been beating myself up for more than a decade, because I didn’t completely understand both sides of the equation. But here we are. Lesson learned. Because life is messy and complicated, it couldn’t be quite so easy to extricate from as the first time, since, it took me so fucking long to learn it. However, I’m here now in the right place. It feels terrible in every way. Lesson learned. And through it all, I choose love. It’s all I’ve got left.

Thanks for reading.

Photo credit: wordporn

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Forced Growth

Recently I was reading about what’s in store for 2019, according to astrologers. Apparently, it’s not going to be “my year”, but rather a year of forced growth. When I read this, I laughed.

For many years I’ve said that the Universe, when you’re too thick skulled to learn certain lessons, despite repeated “opportunities” to learn, will in fact force your hand. The Universe is funny like that. You only get so many tries before it’s like, “ok, dummy, we are doing this my way”. I’m notoriously thick skulled sometimes.

I want to think the best of people. I want to think we are all on the same team, that our goals align, and that nobody is selfish. However, repeatedly, I’m proven wrong and forced to reevaluate. When I don’t figure out the lesson after GLARING examples, the Universe forces my hand. Forced. Growth.

I was searching the internet yesterday for a photo to use on this, and another blog. I knew that I wanted a lotus. Nothing says “forced growth” better than a flower that cannot grow, but from the murky waters below. No mud, no lotus.

Pretty much all plants are amazing in this way. They’re buried underground, and from the dirt, beauty and abundance take form. They face uncertainty, predators, adverse growing conditions, flooding, drought… everything should be against these tiny seeds, and yet, many of them survive and thrive. There are boat loads of casualties, but the standard is growth.

Nature WANTS plants to make it. So does the Universe. Just as in nature, the Universe WANTS us to be fruitful. Just as seeds, we are hardwired for survival.

So what lessons am I being forced to learn this year? Notafreakingclue. But I can say for sure, that if this year is anything like the last, it’s going to be a bumpy ride. Truthfully, I’m still licking my wounds from 2018. The sting is still very real. But this train is full steam ahead. There’s no stopping it. How many metaphors can I mix? The world may never know.

It’s hard to grow. They say adversity “builds character”, but I’m kind of over this “build, burn, rebuild” cycle. I just want things to be easy for a change. Smooth. But as I keep trying to assure myself, the best is yet to come. However, the realist in me knows, as the Buddha described “life is suffering”. So to be without suffering, we are without life.

Thanks for reading.

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No more answers, only more questions

A friend asked me the other day how long it’s been since I’ve written anything. I casually tell her I write copy for social media posts and 100 million emails all the time. She gently laughed and asked when I wrote for myself.

Obviously, if you’re a reader of this blog, you know that answer. I’ve not been writing for myself, if we can even call it that, for more than a year. What happened, you say? I started a business, quit my day job, moved, and so many more things. But why haven’t I written, through all of those things? I don’t know. Anxiety and stress and depression can be shitty sometimes, I guess. Life gets hard, and it’s harder to post to a blog called A Year of Lasting Happiness, when you feel like pitching yourself off a bridge.

But it’s not without saying, that I miss it. I miss these moments of outpouring: my thoughts and feels on a page. I don’t “have time”… read: I don’t MAKE time. I don’t make the time to put words to page when I feel like a mess. And life, it’s been messy, and complicated, and simply… hard.

There’s been these moments, breadcrumbs I call them, that keep me going. That keep me fighting the good fight. It’s been too long without writing, and the longer I wait, the harder it is to do the thing, and the easier it gets to put off the feeling of longing in my chest, for the words.

The words, you say? Yes. The words. Words, words, words. Those things floating around my head like leaves on a pond. Barely touching the surface, but still connecting. Sometimes my brain swallows up the words, and other times, they’re bursting out my mouth, rapid fire, like a machine gun. I speak so fast sometimes I have to repeat myself, because the listener didn’t even catch them all.

Catching. Them. All.

I have more questions now, than answers. Like, what have I done, and for crying out loud, WHY. But the answers escape me like a child chasing a feather. I reach- wind catches it- floats away gracefully on a breeze.

It’s funny, this life. And by funny, I mean, I don’t know. This seems like the perfect place to say something coy, like, “life is what happens when you’re waiting for life to happen” or some such thing. But, all I can say with certainty is that life is funny. So hard, but equally funny.

I heard on a recent podcast that drinking to take the edge off, takes off the edges at both ends. It took me a few days of kicking that around my head, but it resonated for some reason. I don’t think me having a beer or whatever, after a long or particularly difficult day is “taking my edges off”, but rather, the burdens of daily life have worn my edges smooth, like a rock in a mighty river. This is what happens as we age. All our edges, worn smooth by the hands of time, and gently molding us into everyone else. Slowly eroding our jagged parts, the parts that have seen some shit. The parts that are unique. Revealing nothing but supple roundness, eventually, slowly, wearing us away into oblivion. In a way, that’s a tragic end for the rock. But it happens so slowly, that nobody really even notices, the rock just gradually shrinks into nothingness.

I don’t want to shrink into nothingness. I want to be jagged sometimes, to be sharp. Fierce. But who has the energy? Who isn’t a sack of exhaustion anymore? With jobs, partners, children, parents, houses, cars, any manner of obligations. Who has the time to be SHARP? Who has the energy to be JAGGED?

There’s a Japanese saying “The nail that sticks up, gets hammered down”. It’s basically a lesson in homogenous conformity, which is why their society is so uniform, in a way. But this is also from the culture where it’s totally acceptable to sleep under your desk at work overnight, to work 90 hours a week, and sadly, to work oneself literally to death. Are these people the rocks getting worn down?

There are other homogenous societies that value LESS working, but are somehow “just” as productive. The entirety of Scandinavia is the hallmark of how awesome it can be to live in a relatively wealthy country, with socialized medicine, that also values chilling. They get something like a month or more PAID vacation. I’ve not been on vacation in years. Even before I quit my job, I still didn’t get much, if any, paid time off. It’s crazy.

I still have more questions, than answers. I don’t feel any closer to finding what’s real, besides the fact I have to get up and do it all over again tomorrow, and the next day. And also my capacity to love a small human more than anything else on this planet.

My wish for 2019 is that I can set the groundwork for more balance. I need to stop juggling everydamnthing, while carrying the weight of the world on my back. That started today. We’ve made tough choices, but it will give me something closer to a life, in this life.

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