Tag: right intention

Mind Fullness

When I was 19 years old, I had my first real, life-pausing panic attack. I was living in my first apartment with my best friend from high school. I worked two jobs, as I have for much of my life, to make ends meet in that awful little cave. The cave was on the second floor, right above the apartment managers. They didn’t trust a pair of teenagers on their own for the first time. How could they, we were teenagers on our own for the first time. I was beyond broke, even with two jobs, so I did not have a car. I walked and relied on the bus for most transit. My night job required me to bum a ride from a coworker, my roommate, or friends that could be in the area, as the bus that went to my house didn’t go that far, that late. The “reason” for this panic attack was that I had missed the bus after my morning job, by only moments, to get to my night job. Because of the day of the week, there wouldn’t be another bus going all the way to my night job for over an hour. I went back into my day job and used the phone (this was before cell phones were really a thing) and called out due to transportation issues. The manager there already didn’t much like me, so I was hanging by a thread. I caught the next bus home, and as I was walking from the bus stop the half mile to my apartment, my mind could not stop racing. The blender, as I call it, was on overdrive- catastrophic thoughts spinning around, until finally about a block from home, I broke. I was crying hysterically, couldn’t breathe, could barely keep walking in the state I was in. My chest hurt. I called my mom as soon as I got in, since she’s in the medical field. I was positive that I was having the heart attack I’d joked about for years. The joke was that I wouldn’t make it out of my teens, that I’d give myself a heart attack before then. I had dreams of not making it to 20 years old. I was on borrowed time anyway, right? Fuck it. Rock it ‘til the wheels fall off! And here they were, falling off, and I’m sobbing to my mom that I think I’m dying. She talked me down, and told me she would talk to me later that evening. I felt like death. I was having muscle spasms and was still laboring to breathe naturally. I wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t dying, but I did my best to calm down and think about what I was going to do. I never was able to stop the panic attacks completely from happening. But I have a much better handle on them now that I’m in my 40s. 

A long time ago, I read somewhere that anxiety is living in the future, depression is living in the past. I’m not talking diagnoses here, but the feelings of anxiety and depression. Side note: If you think you have disorders regarding either of those conditions, I urge you to seek medical advice as soon as possible. Medical providers have made my struggles with both anxiety and depression more manageable. 

Anxiety or worry are often created by focusing on what is going to happen, what hasn’t happened yet, catastrophic feelings of worst-case scenarios swirling around the old brain bucket. Sadness often arises from feelings of what could have been, should have been, loss, lack, and even sometimes jealousy of how things transpired for someone else or how you were wronged in some way. Neither of these states are living in the NOW. The right here and right now. Mindfulness is one way to combat the feelings of “not yet”, or “passed me by”. 

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

I started my mindfulness and spirituality journey when I was 13 or 14 years old. I started reading books on earth religious traditions like the Celts, Druids, and Pagans of Europe. I studied these traditions for several years, until I got busy and had to focus on daily life for a while. This “break” is where the panic attacks started. In my early 20’s I found books and teachers of Eastern philosophies like, Tao, Tibetan Buddhism, and Japanese Buddhism. Here, I found my way to Jodo Shinshu Buddhism of Japan. Throughout all of these traditions, awareness, mindfulness, clarity, some form of meditation or chanting are commonplace. I believe that many of these words we use to describe the spiritual practices, are effectively a different method of the same ideas. Zen schools meditate- sometimes chanting, sometimes silent. There are Zen lineages that practice walking meditation as well. Jodo Shinshu Buddhists don’t focus on meditation so much as group chanting. Pagans from many cultures chant, dance, pray, and focus their minds on certain tasks or thoughts. There are thousands of years of history in humanity where some form of mindfulness, chanting, meditation, or prayer are part of spirituality or devotion. Even in the Abrahamic faith traditions there is chanting, singing, or group prayer of some kind. I genuinely believe that our modern world has stripped much of this spiritual connection from us as a collective. 

I was listening to an audiobook recently about Transcendental Meditation. They conducted an experiment years ago to see if collective meditation had an effect on the world around us. The idea was that everyone in the experiment meditate at home or work/school, at an appointed time to see what happened. They did this every day for a period of time. What the studies showed is that even for several days after the meditations, there was a reduction of violence and crime in the areas surrounding the meditators. That’s a pretty powerful finding, where a collective resonance on peace could amplify to others who were not even remotely involved with the exercise. We have within us, the power to change the world, we just don’t realize it. Focusing on the here and now, feels really short sighted for someone like me. I’m naturally skeptical and data driven in almost all things. But focusing on now doesn’t mean forget to plan for later. It simply means to not get bogged down in later, or before, and forget that life is Happening Now. It isn’t happening 5 minutes ago. That’s in the past. It’s not happening in 5 minutes. That hasn’t gotten here yet. Your life, my life, our lives are happening RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW. 

Right now, I am writing this blog post. It is later than I had anticipated and had planned for. But earlier this week, happening now happened. In a previous life, I’d have been really hard on myself for “slacking” on my responsibility, had I found myself in the place I am now with this writing. I’d have taken time away from my family or the class I’ve been taking, to crank this out days ago, had I focused on a strict deadline for myself. I believe that both of these scenarios would have been a detriment to the content of this post, truthfully. Had I not completed my class, I may have had a different perspective on this post, or had written something else entirely. I found meaning and joy in that course, as well as the exercises it contained. I have a clarity in perspective that I didn’t have a couple days ago. I had a mediation on Thursday that really opened my heart and mind in ways I find difficult to explain. And because I focused a lot of energy into that course, even though I’ve been meditating for more than two decades in some form or fashion, I am now a certified meditation teacher. It feels good to have completed the course and had the experience. But something had to shift for my focus to be on that. Writing this blog was part of that trade-off. I have one more certification that I am currently working on, but that will take a bit more time to wrap up. In the fall, I plan to take another meditation course, certifying myself in some other techniques that I hope to master. All of this to say that 1) I have allowed myself the grace and space to recognize that in the now I am writing, which I love more than many things, as well as understanding sometimes I cannot have the diligence I would like, and that’s ok, and 2) personal growth is not a linear process, and I have found much of my own growth through mindfulness, spirituality, and shitloads of trial and error. Finally, 3) you, my readers, are not going to care if my blog post is an hour later to be delivered, than it was last week. Right? Right. Nobody is going to hate me for that.

For those keeping track, I made it past 19 years old. None of my panic attacks killed me, though I felt like they might, and there have been many (many, many) over the last few decades. I can attribute that to a myriad of things, people, circumstances, and just plain luck. I’m grateful for that. To have fizzled out at such a young age, I’d have missed some of the best and absolute worst days of my life. I am looking forward to more of both, while I’m experiencing the right now, right here. 

Thanks for reading, and I hope that you find value in me sharing my experiences.

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Right Actions- A Thought

As a Buddhist, we generally strive to follow the eight-fold noble path. Right Action is one of those folds. However, the word “right” in all of the eight folds is quite subjective and often difficult to really qualify.

For instance, fighting in a situation may very well be the right thing for a person to do in the moment, for fear of real danger. However, it may not be “legal”, which inherently isn’t “right” in the eyes of our judicial system. Besides the judgements, is that action still morally right? I’ve recognized that frequently, “moral” and “legal” are not aligned.

In the words of the great Stan Lee- every villain is the hero of their own story.

Fear and morality are parts of Right Action, in that, our morals and our fear reflexes very much shape our worlds as individuals, and our experiences in the world at large. It’s suffice to say, that absent these guides, people would also behave very differently, I believe.

For example: if we were not afraid of consequences, I feel there’d be many more instances of people making unhelpful or unwholesome choices in their lives. If many of us did not have clearly defined morals (whether spiritually based or not), we’d have a much more aggressive and violent world. That’s not to say “moral” people don’t do counterproductive and/or harmful things. Because they often do, largely from some semblance of moral superiority or self righteousness. I just think that we’d all be worse off, without morals and fear guiding the general populace.

I know that the question: who’s to say what’s “right”, is obviously unanswerable in general, but it does bear reflection. What is right for me isn’t going to be what’s right for someone else in all situations. The causes and conditions, as well as histories of each of us often make these choices very different for an individual. What’s greater still, is having to justify that choice to others.

I try to avoid calling things good or bad, as that comes from a place of judgement, and rarely am I qualified to lay down such a determination for people other than myself. I can certainly look back on my life and Cherry-pick the items I’ve decided from the future that are both good and bad. But even this type of reflection is not helpful. I’ve decided that something that IS helpful, at least for me is to look back on those situations as “I did the best I could with what I had”. I also view other people’s actions in this frame as often as possible, because it allows room for empathy, grace, and humility for myself and those around me. It makes me feel less beat up about my own choices, since life does that enough for me, without me beating myself up for bonehead decisions. I’ve made PLENTY of really dumb choices. However, I was doing what I thought was right (most of the time) in that moment, given the causes, conditions, and where I was on my journey.

Recently, I’ve been struggling with this whole concept of Right Action and also extending grace and empathy to others. Part of that is anger and another part is moral judgement. It’s really challenging to view someone as “doing the best they can” when they’re simply being assholes, because they can in a situation. I do genuinely believe that some people are mot operating from “their best”, but rather “control”, which is a hard place to land. It makes a hard pill harder to swallow. I want to believe that there is good in others and that they’re doing their best. Yet, they’re not showing their best selves and being hurtful, hateful, spiteful, and/or malicious on purpose, to inflict pain. This is not a world I want to live in. This isn’t a life I wish on anyone.

The problem is that I want to help, to the point of exhaustion. I want the world to be kind and gentle, just and equal. It simply isn’t. Part of this, I think is my own karmic lesson. Since I am a helper and a fixer, I get very much involved in things that I think I can be of service to. Then, I feel responsible and defeated when things aren’t as I feel they should be, or the outcome isn’t what my sense of justice desires. This is certainly something that I’ve been working on for many years and will likely continue to navigate. I have a distinct view of what is or is not justice, and when things fall outside those clearly defined spaces, I feel unbalanced and that the world is all wrong. For me, it is. I am a very grounded and definite person. The world doesn’t have to bend to me or my sense of morality, and frequently does the opposite. I’ve acknowledged this about myself, and hope someday to just let things go the way they will. Until then… I’m going to be trapped in this cage of righteousness and morality that I’ve constructed for myself. And that, my friends, is not only frustrating, but also the very definition of self-inflicted suffering. However, all I can do with certainty, is continue to operate from a place where I feel I’m doing the right thing, given the causes and conditions around me. It’s all any of us can do.

Until next time…

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Evolution

Hello and welcome back to whatever this blog has morphed into… musings really, I think. I set out over a decade ago after becoming inspired by a book I read on happiness. I gave myself tasks and goals (very Type A of me) to achieve everyday happiness. And for a long time, it worked, as you can read if so inclined, by my studious documentation of that project.

Over time, that little project changed a little, into sort of another project. And that challenge lead into a different thing, which led to a bizarre “confessional” of sorts, and now to this phase… where I seemingly wax poetic about something that has been on my mind.

As I have aged over the years, my focuses have changed too. My voice in writing, as well as my priorities in my life have changed distinctly. In the time that I’ve been hosting this blog, I’ve become a parent, gotten divorced and remarried (possibly more than once), and I’ve moved more times than I can recall at this moment. I’ve fairly recently uprooted my life and took my kiddo across the country to try something else, because what I was doing in our hometown simply wasn’t working for us anymore. We’ve grown as individuals and as a pair, me and the kid. We’ve gained a whole new support system in our new/old city, and lost a tremendous amount in these subsequent, turbulent years.

Which brings me to today’s topic: evolution. Not the controversial (for reasons I cannot begin to fathom) Evolution (read: dinosaurs, primates, humans, planet, and cosmos shit), but evolution, as we grow and change as people, parents, partners, and stewards of our lives. While I jokingly say to those close to me, I’ve been the same cynical bitch you’ve all come to know and love, that’s not exactly true. Yes, a great deal of my personality has not changed one bit since childhood- shakes fist at trauma– there are huge parts of me that HAVE evolved into someone/something else.

I’ve recognized that events in my life have caused me to change, both as a person unto myself and as a person in the world. Past experiences have formed how I behave in certain situations, whether healthy or unhealthy. A number of them are trauma responses that I’ve picked up to carve the path of least resistance for myself or others. However some of this stuff just comes with age, and my priorities being different than they were when I was 30.

My relationships with people have changed significantly too. My close friends and I aren’t playing sports like we used to, injuries and having jobs that start early in the mornings being things. Partnerships have evolved. The days of teenage infatuation have moved toward a deep sense of knowing another person on a deeper level. I’m not as afraid of things in relationships either, like the other person getting distracted or periods away from one another.

I recently saw one of my best friends and it was like nothing had changed. We caught up, laughed, hugged… we’ve not seen each other in 6 months. We don’t talk as often as we’d like, but it’s ok. Life is hectic and we are so solid in our friendship, we know that we are friends for life. There’s so much peace in knowing who your people are and that they’re solid. It’s taken a loooooong time, and a whole lot of shitty friends seeing themselves out of my life for this to happen. I used to be the type of person that would try to keep people in my life, even if they were toxic, because I was afraid of being alone. I don’t have the patience for that any longer. It’s just not who I am.

Patience is another thing that has evolved. I have infinitely more patience for certain things, like kids. But I’ll be damned if I waste a single second that doesn’t serve me or my higher self. If it’s a drain, I’m OUT. This goes for people, social situations, jobs, all of it. I can’t tolerate nonsense anymore. If Covid has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short for bullshit and I refuse to waste a single moment more on it. I’ve wasted far too much of my life catering to people and things that are soul sucking. Never again.

This admission in itself, is proof positive that I’ve evolved. In a former life, I’d have held on for dear life to shit that was actively destroying me. I lost everything because it, repeatedly. I lost myself. I lost my homes, car, stability, security, everything. I was empty and lost. Never again.

I can say with utmost certainty that it’s never too late to evolve, change, grow, and throw away the things that make you feel hollow, alone, or sad. Choose happy and work toward that every single day.

Thanks for reading.

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Shadows

The work that is the hardest, lingers in the darkness. The pieces we must heal the most, are those who live in the shadows. These are the most difficult, because they are the most wounded parts of us: the trauma, the grief, the sorrows. We don’t want to uncover these sadnesses because they are painful, and many times they are easier left buried in the earth, never seeing the light of day.

However, in healing these broken bits, we find the wholeness of our true selves. For many of us, this is a lifelong endeavor. But guiding out the shards, leads to a lightness many of us have not felt in ages (if ever).

There is hard work in the shadows. Many tears and old wounds being laced open. Is it worth it? I can’t speak for others, but I can say this work is meaningful. It’s certainly not easy, however rewarding.

As longtime readers know, I’m on a quest to always seek into myself and I have done much shadow work. I’m never done. There are always old hurts to uncover, antiquated trauma responses that no longer serve a purpose. I uncover them often and I say their names, such as loneliness, abandonment, fear, and many, many more. By bringing them and their names to the surface, I’m able to process them, with all the tools I have now, instead of what I didn’t have when I buried them. It doesn’t make it easy. It just makes it real.

Living in this crazy, unrelenting, uncertain time makes everything amplified. Old habits, ways of thinking, responses, etc that simply have no place in my current story just make everything more complicated and situations that arise, muddier. Am I really feeling this way, or is it fear? Is this situation what I think, or am I running/pushing away? Sometimes it’s just so damn hard to know. There’s just too much noise to find the song. But what do I do? I’m still trying to figure that out, because I’m as guilty as anyone of doing self destructive things to cover pain or ignore it. But all I can do is try my best today, and tomorrow, and the next day, right? It’s all anyone can do. The best we can with what we have at the time.

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Too much

For the last couple of weeks, watching the world unfold has been an effort in trying to keep myself upright. I have been on the verge of collapse as Russian troops invaded Ukraine.

There have been countless days where I’ve sobbed uncontrollably as my heart shattered for people I will never meet. From places I’ll never get to visit. I’ve had this experience many times in my life. But for some reason, this hits me in the core.

It’s likely, of the last several decades, I’ve said that the sadness is just too much to take it all in hundreds of times. Today, I’m feeling those words in my marrow. for the last two solid years, I’ve been thinking it regularly, but saying it rarely. Today, I break that silence and acknowledge that my heart is sawdust for the people of Ukraine, and other sufferings that are equally unspeakable. My heart has been ground to fine powder for those sufferings.

It’s difficult to go on with daily life, when life has been uprooted and pulverized. By sickness, pain, loss, isolation, abuses, murders in broad daylight, shootings, all of the tragedies we’ve collectively experienced for TWO SOLID YEARS. Everyone on this earth is in pain, whether they know it or not.

Once upon a time, writing was my safe haven, my outlet, and my muse. Today it feel heavy and pointless. As though my words are meaningless. I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said by someone else, more eloquently, to a larger crowd. What do I have to add to the dialogue? To contribute to the narrative? Very little, in my estimation. However, staying silent does not allow me to feel whole, so I write today. Not for those that are “out there” suffering. But for the one “in here”.

It’s an odd feeling writing to a page about lasting happiness. It’s so elusive. Do I feel “happier” than I did many years ago when this page began? Without a doubt. I’ve grown so much, learned more things than I could ever recall, read a myriad of books, researched the research of happiness and put practice into my quest for more tangible joy in my everyday life. However, in that same breath, I find it impossible to be “happy” while so many people are in pain. It’s so hard to go on with our “regular lives”, whatever that even means now, while others have lost everything. To not acknowledge the struggle, would 1) be doing a disservice to those who are in pain, and 2) make me an asshole. I’m unwilling to allow either of those things. Not on my watch.

I have no rosy closing to this entry. I have nothing but love in the space my heart once was, for those that need love right now. I know I’m not alone in this feeling of hopelessness, and I genuinely hope that we all make it.

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