Moving Into Fear (or Basic Buddhism for Skiers) March 24, 2012

Skiing has taught me one thing with certainty – resistance only increases the chance of receiving the opposite outcome than I intended.

For those of you unenlightened non-skiing people, here is a brief ski lesson: the front end (tip)  is the steering end, the back-end (tail) acts as a gas pedal.  Regardless of my young friends tendencies to straight-line it, skiing is about making turns to get downhill.  In order to make move or make the ski turn we must pressure the front end by shifting our weight forward – and thus, downhill.

This seems easy in writing, but when faced with a steep slope (whatever that means to us personally), the intuitive response is not to lean forward, but sit back in avoidance and concern for our safety.  As we resist the downward velocity of the slope, we increase speed (weight on tails) while losing steering ability (lack of weight on tips).  When we feel it is becoming more difficult to “stay in control”, we resist further, losing the momentum that carries us from turn to turn and so we increase unnecessary movements with our bodies. Resisting  the inevitable (we choose this downhill sport!) we work twice as hard, use more muscle, and have less fun to get down the hill  than if we had simply trusted our ability to make each necessary turn.

In our fear, justified or not, we completely lose connection to flow.  As we humans are uncomfortable with a loss of control, we tend to do one of two things: give up, determining that it is not right for us or, we continue to flail our way downhill, determined to “do this” no matter what, using extra energy in the process, risking injury and losing all sense of enjoyment.  We blame our difficulties on the conditions (too icy/not the right time) , circumstances (there was a snowboarder in the way/I didn’t have enough money) ,  or random half truths (my feet hurt/she was a bitch). Really, we are resisting leaning into that which scares us but is nevertheless required to move through on our way towards our goals.

And what are we afraid of? Failure. Risk. Getting hurt. Looking stupid. Going out of our comfort zone. Losing control.  The list goes on.

As if these were all things we have dominion over in the first place.

Life is scary.  Personally, I seem to attract drama like poop does flies. Poverty, unemployment, illness, stupid people; you name it. But when I was told I had cancer, the complete lack of control over that diagnosis made me stop thinking I could/should try to direct everything my life. Instead I began to learn to accept that life simply is what it is – just like the mountain.  My choice is to engage or not, and how I want to do that is up to me. My reactions to situations are often the only thing I can control. This shift in perception makes it easier stay on tip of my skis and stop resisting the flow of life. I must stop worrying about what might happen, and stay present in what is happening to move toward my goals.

Flow doesn’t mean that is always smooth, but there is a sense of direction, purpose and intention that seems right somehow. In skiing, flow is the glorious sensation of sliding through silky snow even though you occasionally still getting bounced around. Each turn follows the next with relative ease until you stop at the bottom laughing, and say to your buddies, “man, that was SWEEEEEET!”

Skiing teaches me about life on and off the hill. There was nearly a foot of relatively good snow when I went up this week to ski off a bad situation at work. I was faced with a choice that either way was likely to result in unemployment or unhappiness. I had a headache for a week over it. Unemployment is scary and it seemed stupid to draw a line about something that was relatively trivial, but my goal is living a more authentic, heart centered life in which I do not compromise on what is important to me. As I argued with myself over every angle of the situation, I could feel myself flailing, losing control, and working far too hard.  I was using up valuable energy trying to stop forward momentum,  because I was afraid to move into my fears about unemployment and what I thought it said about me.

And so I leaned forward.

It isn’t comfortable at first.

I have my moments as a great skier, but I am often freakishly forcing turn after turn by over-rotating my shoulders and hips; hopping my feet and flinging my arms around to make it happen.  I arrive at the bottom exhausted, but somewhere in each run, there is usually at least one or two linked turns where I was simply “in it” and I get back on the chair.

I often make skiing – and life – more difficult than it needs to be in my lack of trust. And that is what it is….learning to trust that by not struggling with the struggle (as my friend Carole says) you will arrive at your destination with much less effort.  Control is an illusion – what will happen, will happen, and our flailing only increases the chance of it happening badly.

Skiing is not an easy sport, and neither is life, but by committing to my intentions, I get the opportunity to experience relative effortlessness sometimes. That feeling of being in the flow, is the most glorious feeling ever. It  keeps me addicted to this ridiculously expensive sport and to life in general.

As I sit at my computer writing, now newly unemployed, I am curiously observing flow around me.  It is a bit bumpy and there is that “whoa, who….aaaah, WHOAH!” sensation I have on the hill when it feels like things are about to get dicey.  But I also have some of that sensation of floating along and I am committed to not trying to steer this from the backseat. I keep humming to myself a skiing version of Dori’s song  from “Finding Nemo”: “Just keep turning, just keep turning!!”.

I know when I get to the bottom of this run, I will jump around and say: “THAT was so friggen AWESOME!!!!  Did you see when I almost lost it and then I pulled it together and it was like……YEAH! LETS DO IT AGAIN!”

 

(this seems to be a theme with me…if it is for you too check out my posts Resistance is Futile  and I am Committed to This…I think)

The Give Away November 10, 2011

The blanket fell out of the closet from the top shelf as if it had been pushed. It was not what I was looking for, but the fact that I had been thinking about what I needed to take with me on this trip made its attempt at escape interesting. I had not touched it since I hid it away, and now it ends up in my arms as I am searching for a give-away. Maybe now it is time.

I was getting ready to leave on a week-long trip to the desert of eastern Washington where each summer solstice I am part of a large women’s celebration. The gathering drawings inspiration from numerous religious traditions (mainly pagan) and includes an adaptation of a Native American tradition called give-away. The intention is that participants bring a meaningful gift to pass on to an unknown receiver. The process of letting go is an important aspect of the tradition, as we cannot receive if we continue to hold onto that which we no longer need. The wrapped items are placed in a pile in the center of a blanket. Each participant chooses the gift that calls to them, and it is surprising how often what they choose has deep meaning to them. It is as if the items find their way to the next owner.

I had waited until the last minute to put much thought into my give-away, which was unusual. As the Solstice approaches, I am always on the lookout for signs for what needs to move on to the next person. But this year, nothing struck me solidly, until the blanket fell out of the closet knocking me in the head. It was a full size Pendleton wool blanket; midnight blue with a sunburst of oranges and reds, in a pattern no longer available. It had been unused for years.

This blanket had been a gift from a man who hurt me immeasurably. For several years, the violence, shame and humiliation I was subjected to left me broken until a desperate run for freedom on a grey day in June. I didn’t really want to give the blanket away – it was worth several hundred dollars and I loved its heavy warmth. Yet, I was unable to use it because of the memories and didn’t want to pass the karma on to someone else. Still, it DID fall out of the closet. I tucked it into the corner of my car as I packed so that I could think about it, wrapped another item and set off for the week.

The blanket had sat in my tent all week, and as I returned to pick up my give away for the ceremony, I had more or less had come to terms with the fact it was moving on. It made me unreasonably anxious though, and I assumed I was worried about who would get it and if the blankets history would follow. I had learned to trust this ritual and had seen too many times how people received what they needed to receive to doubt the magic. Besides, the history was mine, not the blankets and I had moved on. Sighing, I grabbed the only “wrapping” I had – a garbage bag – which I tied it shut with red yarn to designate its “sacredness”.

Every year, the process of getting 200 women split into groups of less than 10 was a challenge. And, as we were supposed to keep our gift a secret so that it could be chosen from the heart, not the brain, we weren’t supposed to be with people we were close to. This time, we were instructed to choose a group based on a strong feeling – positive or negative – to someone else until our group number was reached. I hate to admit it, but I chose my group because of the challenging negative feelings I had about a tiny blonde woman with a squeaky voice wearing all the hippy trappings (including the name) of a pseudo-Native American. I am harshly judgmental of people who think they can buy their way into a culture or spirituality and am very sensitive about wanna-be’s. Her California looks and abrupt attitude rubbed me the wrong way even though I had heard she was the “real deal” –a traditionally trained and well respected medicine woman. There must be a reason I felt so strongly and I might as well figure it out. Besides, if anyone could handle the history of this blanket, it was her, regardless of my personal feelings. But I don’t get to choose who gets the gift and I waited through several rounds while my large package was passed over. My agitation grew immeasurably as time passed. I couldn’t sit still and was on the verge of tears. What could I say about this gift that I alternately detested and loved? It felt wrong to give away something so filled with bad memories. I was completely unable to pay attention to my own chosen gift, or to anyone else’s.

Finally, with little surprise to me, it was the tiny blonde lady who picked my gift, and as she opened it, her eyes filled with tears. “You know the tradition of Pendleton blankets?” she asked.

I did. Pendleton blankets were taken from Oregon to be traded by the whites for supplies from the Native people. Gifting one of these high quality blankets bestowed honor and having one was an indicator of wealth, as it would keep the owner warm and could be sold if need be to support them. It was these associations that made it so easy to give away blankets contaminated with small pox as the British troops sought to obliterate the resistant tribes.

As soon as I had the chance I took her aside to explain about the blanket, but before I could say anything she wrapped her arms around me and said, “Clearly this is a big gift you give me, I can see how difficult it is. Thank you for honoring me with it”. She chose to see it as a gift of honor, continuing the blanket tradition but I felt as if I had just given her smallpox. I felt worse, not better, and through my tears I was speechless – unable to explain and uncertain why my reaction was so strong. I burst into tears and ran from the gathering, leaving bewildered friends in my wake.

Running barefoot through camp I blindly sought a safe place where I wouldn’t be found and could cry in peace. My feet led me to the empty sweat-lodge. The sweats were over for this year and everyone was at the give-away ceremony, leaving it peaceful and too far away for anyone to hear my sobbing.

The sweat-lodge is a short, squat dome large formed from native vine maple poles, and covered in blankets. For the gathering we build a new one every year large enough for about 15 people to sit in relative comfort. The sweat lodge ceremony is one of physical and spiritual purification as individuals pray and sweat together in the dark. A fire is built directly outside the lodge in which a number of rocks are heated up. The hot rocks are brought in between rounds, and placed in the center pit. The door is then closed, water is poured over the rocks and the Pourer leads the group in prayers and songs. A lodge can take up to 5 hours to come to completion, and the fire-tenders are responsible for the fire, the heating of the rocks, the care of the women inside and holding the energy of the space for healing work to be done. I have been fire-tending for 15 years and was one of the three leaders of the lodges until this year. It is a sacred space, and a natural place for me to run when I was in despair.

I threw myself through the doorway of the lodge in relief, my head resting on the still warm stones from the previous nights lodge. The tears came unhindered now with a shocking fury. With no one to hear except the ancient ones and spirits that held the lodge, I screamed my grief until my throat was sore. I felt I had been ripped open and was suddenly, terribly heartbroken. I wasn’t upset about giving away the blanket with all that history, I was sad about finally letting go of a long held secret. For the first time I allowed myself to grieve the years of subjugation and desperation. I was so ashamed of the story I had lived through that I had held it tightly against me – couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t put it anywhere, couldn’t finish processing it by leaving it behind. I kept the knowledge of what I had compromised in order to raise my children hidden because of what I thought it said about me. I didn’t want anyone to know, because I didn’t want them to think I had been stupid. But after all these years – especially after cancer had tried to kill me – I finally understood that I had done what I needed to do to survive. Sometimes it isn’t pretty, but there it is. Burying something so deep do not release you of it, it simply weighs you down.

As I gave away the blanket, I gave away the only thing left of that time, and even though I didn’t want to hold it, by letting it go I was uncertain what would happen. Looking at it reminded me of my shame, and in releasing it I was letting go of my own self- judgment. As I was moving into my pursuing new dreams, I no longer needed to hold any of this – it was all just part of the path that had got me exactly where I needed to be. In true give away fashion, I had let go of something with deep meaning that I had moved beyond so that I could create room for the next thing I needed.

It felt like I had been crying in the dust for hours, but I didn’t once feel like I was alone. I felt hands in my hair, on my back, breath in my ears. I heard sighs and murmurs and opening my eyes was surprised to see I was still alone. I returned to the gathering feeling a lightness in me that I cannot explain. As I neared the still gathered circle my friends approached me, and for the first time, I explained enough of my story for them to understand that my give away had been profound. As they held me, the blonde woman asked if we could go away and talk. I was ready now.

The sun came out for the first time that day as we sat in the meadow and talked. I told her the story of a young woman in poverty with two with two children who sold herself to a man who said he would take care of them. He did, but the cost was enormous to her and she lost who she was in his anger and violence. He told her she was worthless and stupid, and she believed him; this was her second marriage, and if she made such bad decisions twice, than stupid she must be. But as she talked more and more to her ancestor spirits, she began to grow stronger and wondered if there was more in her than he said. Somewhere in running a farm without his help she learned she was capable and that most mistakes are fixable with some hard work. One day she ran with her two children and even though she went back once, thinking that she could make it work out, she didn’t stop listening to her heart again. When she was left with a million dollars of his debt, bankrupt and homeless, her worst fears had come true, only to find that she was happier that she ever imagined possible. It was not the end after all, but the beginning. And now, years later, all her dreams were coming true.

The blonde woman listed to the story without ever taking her eyes of me, tears flowing down her face. When I was done, she took my hands and told her own mirror story, minus the children, adding health issues and ending at the point where she had declared bankruptcy just before the gathering and did not know where she was going to live when she left us. The traditional meaning of receiving a Pendleton blanket — the honoring of the individual and the gift of wealth, was initially what had struck her so deeply. In knowing the story behind the blanket, she had received a gift of hope and courage from one who had travelled the same roads and come out the other side.

As we rejoined the gathering I finally was able to pay attention to the gift I had received sitting at the blanket. With happy tears in my eyes I again looked in the gift bag that contained a bag stamped with the words “Give Happiness” filled with lavender, the herb representing peace and cleansing.

Running Shoes July 4, 2011

My running shoes are sitting by the front door. Not my real ones – those are still sitting in the closet collecting dust. These are the shoes that magically appear and starting screaming RUN! when change is in the air leaving me feeling out of control and desperately seeking solid ground. Like a deer fleeing a forest fire, rather than hunker down and wait out the storm, I start double-knotting my shoe laces in preparation. It is in these moments of uncertainty that we have the greatest opportunity to practice having faith.

After observing my real life soap opera over the years, I can see the warning signs of imminent change:  it all starts with the overwhelming feeling that thing something is coming – like waiting for Christmas, but not sure if it is good or something else.  My dreams are full of momentum then suddenly they shift and all the things that scare me come creeping. Tears for every reason are followed by those for no reason that move into an alarming silence. Deep, expectant, interior silence where every thought echoes and I am overwhelmed by the stillness of my inner landscape. Finally I can’t stand it and I get the itch…a burning desire to run in any direction to anywhere – as long as it means movement and bridges the gap between what has been and some other time in the future.

Often I have run from people, places and situations that have become stagnant, seeking relief from the insistent urge towards a more fulfilling life.  Much of the time is was the correct course of action, but I have also picked fights, made bad decisions and burned bridges that I should not have simply because I needed to regain control of something in order to halt the free-fall into the unknown.  As I feel the energy shift inside me towards creating space for new growth the real-life crows in my garden (mythical harbingers of change as well as opportunistic death feeders)  stay unnaturally close to me as I weed.  Their insistent hoarse cawing and general blackness make me edgy as if they are waiting to guide me into a timeless place of transformation whether I want to go or not.

Regardless of my deep spiritual belief that change is a necessary and natural part of the wheel of life turning, the in-between place of what was and what is to come is a place of fear and uncertainty.  It is in these moments of deep uncertainty that I feel most alone and helpless, wanting to DO anything to wiggle out of the feeling. Even when the upcoming changes may be good, my lack of control regarding all that must shift to make way for the new is hard to swallow. When the wheel is turning regardless of my actions, it is hard for me to breathe much less to stay still, yet to overcome the urge to self-destruct I must do just that. The more irresistible the urge to run, the more important it is that I choose another “action” path and have faith.

I am not talking about staying in bad relationships or situations – if you are in one now and are able to pick yourself up and run, DO IT before hopelessness immobilizes you again. I am talking about those times when there is nothing major “wrong”, but there is also nothing major “right”. Or those times when things are okay, but your skin crawls with the need to be more of the puppeteer and less of the puppet in your own life. Perhaps you know that things need to change…that they ARE going to change…but you are not sure how, or when, or why. Maybe you took the steps to shift your life and now that things have you are left wondering what kind of monster you just let loose. New anything…jobs, locations, and opportunities stemming from both “bad” and “good” create anxiety as we move from the usual into the unknown and we often find ourselves resisting or working against the flow as we try to regain our footing.  As we struggle to feel more secure, we could be using our energy more productively by listening to Bob Marley’s advice to have faith and “don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright”.

Faith is a big word full of religious connotations that somehow have always been connected to a lack of power and personal control in my mind. Years growing up around various conservative churches drilled into my skull that faith is about believing in the impossible and improbable  without question and relinquishing all control of our lives to an invisible being that could only be clearly heard by a chosen few with really bad hair. But several years ago I found a sticker that remains on the water bottle I use every day that shifted my thinking about passively giving over your life to the unknown.  It says: FAITH:VERB.

And, of course, the simplest definition of a verb is “an action word”.

Duh — of course faith is an active thing. But how often do we all say we have “faith” when we really have that tone of “oh my god, I HOPE this is going to work out because I really don’t know” in our voice? For many of us faith has become a THING – a noun – something that is. It has become something that exists outside of us and can be quite elusive when we are troubled. It has become something we think we have (or don’t have) not something we DO. Indeed, our ability to actively DO faith seems to be the first thing we drop when we get scared and start our personal version of clutching at the strings of control.

In those times when things are most uncertain, having faith is the only thing TO do as we deal with the uncertainty of our temporary blindness. And what are we supposed to have faith in????   First, simply that we will know what we need to know, when we need to know it and all will be revealed to us in time. When we begin to make rash decisions that are contradictory to our truest selves because we are grasping at control we can prevent the next best thing from easily happening to/for us.  When we react to our own fears instead of sitting in the uncomfortable in-between place of not knowing, we use up our energy spinning in circles instead of getting ready to act on the positive things coming our way. By practicing faith that the world will still rotate without us having our finger on the control button, we begin to see our discomfort for what it is….fear that things are changing and that our personal desires and plans are going to be forgotten in the storm. Fear that the “bad” patterns will keep repeating if we don’t hold on tight. Fear that everything will be different, that we won’t get to choose, and that we can’t see the right path. Uncertain about our future we feel it is only us, not something greater, that is watching out for us and we feel alone and small.

And the most important part of faith is knowing that this is not true..

If you ask me when I feel the itch to run if I have faith that everything will be okay in the end, and if I truly believe I was a beloved child of the Universe, I would tell you yes, of course. But that would not necessarily stop my failing around as I tried to figure out a course of action that would result in feeling like I was driving this life again. And this “child” of Universe would certainly still have thought that she knows better than any higher power when she was stressed! How is it that if I cannot see around this particular corner in my life, I still think I can choose an action that will result a positive outcome? What is all this energy I use to run, make demands on the universe and generate a river of tears actually gaining me? When I don’t know what to do, or what is going to happen, why am I so hell-bent on believing that I will have the answers if I only beat my head against the wall hard enough???  Where did that part about believing it is all going to be okay in the end disappear to???

Regardless of how contradictory it seems when our fight or flight mechanism is going crazy because things are up in the air, we need to sit in our itchy, squirminess until we are clearer about which way to proceed. When we can feel change in the air like the coming of the rain, remember that we must open our hands in order to accept a gift. A clenched fist can neither let go of what it doesn’t need, or receive something precious. And our desire to be the one in control is most definitely a clenched fist – and frequently a clenched jay and stomach too!

Breathe. Open your heart to the very real possibility that everything is going to okay and know that you are on the exact path that gets you right where you are supposed to be. Stop fretting as if there was some way you can speed the transition from here to the future. Take the time to rest your spirit and wait until the way is clearer. Be kind to yourself when you are feeling powerless and know that vision is achieved by observing not doing. Resist the urge to think that whatever we might do in this deeply uncomfortable moment is a better choice than listening for further instructions.

Regardless of your personal belief in a higher power or divine being, take comfort knowing that everything evolves out of chaos. Allow yourself – and the universe – to sort through the endless possibilities for your life and create room for good things to enter.  When you fret that change has brought bad things in the past and that you HAVE to stay in control so that bad doesn’t happen again….consider the possibility that maybe letting go is exactly what is called for. Maybe you really need to just get out of your own way.  I know I need to get out of mine.

Use faith as a bridge to get you from this moment of uncertainty to the place where things seem more settled. Every little thing WILL be alright. Pack up your imaginary running shoes …or better yet, use your real ones them for what they are made for and create some physical momentum to eat up the anxiety while you wait for the rest of life to catch up.

It Gets Better May 5, 2011

Recently there have been numerous news stories detailing the deaths of young people who were tormented for being different or because they were gay.  While youth is always a time of great change and those who stand out in the crowd have always been targets of others insecurities, the extreme violence surrounding many of these deaths  in  a time in which we believe ourselves  to be so progressive is stunning.  In the past year our youth have been beaten to death, lured to “parties” in which they are tortured and raped, videoed and publically humiliated, and bullied to the point they can no longer bear staying alive.  A recent news story told the tale of two 13 year old girls – best friends – who killed themselves at a slumber party. Their parents suspect they had been planning it quietly all along and they did not want to be stopped . This was not a “call for help” as we traditionally have viewed suicide. In their minds, death was the only way to end the constant abuse they suffered at the hands of their peers .

Closer to home, last month over dinner a young friend of mine spoke of a 13 year girl at her school who was different, never seemed to fit in , had family troubles and who took her own life.  I have seen so many of these kids over the years.  A  young man named Colin stayed with me while he escaped the abuse he suffered at the hands of his extremely religious parents because he was different.  He disappeared one day and his parents found him two weeks later hanging in the woods in their back yard. When I practiced counseling and did crisis intervention my office was full of teens struggling to stay alive, afloat and in one piece.  These kids were rebels, honor students, athletes and GLB teens who felt they did not – and could not – measure up. They were tormented at school and often held to unrealistic standards by parents with deaf ears. Some felt themselves to be so different it terrified them and they could see no way they would ever fit in. Their problems were belittled, the stresses they were under discounted and they sought control by acting out, through self-abusive behavior and ultimately by ending their lives. They did not believe there was help to be had and could only see a lifetime of the same garbage ahead of them.  It is no wonder they chose to close the book.

To my young friends out there:  I want you – all of you,  wherever to you are – to know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  And, it does get better.  SO MUCH BETTER.  I PROMISE.  I know what it is like to be bullied, shunned and tormented for being different.  I know how hard it is to shine.  I know all about hating yourself for things you cannot control, and how difficult it is to believe that things will ever be better. I know what it is like to feel so unbearably different but I also know  how scary AND  exquisitely beautiful it is to find out who you really are. There are many people who understand, who will lend an ear and a helping hand.  Believe me when I tell you I know how hard it is to face another day knowing you cannot, and will not,  ever be what they want  and it seems so easy to just disappear.  Looking back, I am so very happy that I didn’t let the bastards win.  Keep fighting the good fight- it will not be forever.  You will find your place, you will find many others like you  – you are not now  — and will not ever be— alone. If you doubt my word…TALK TO ME  — here is my email : becomingamazon@gmail.com – I am ALWAYS available to you.  Please do not end your story before it even gets to the good parts.

To the “responsible adults” around us:  This is a nation founded on the principals of rebelliousness and individuality.  Our country’s founders came here to escape intolerance.  Why then do we as a nation silently condone persecutory behavior when it is directed at the shadows of our societies – those we marginalize due to race or sexual orientation?  Your families were once the very people hiding their beliefs, hiding who they were, running from the religious zealots who said they were wrong and who dictated “gods” word differently than your families believed.  Have we forgotten why we came here in the first place????

We need to instill a tough national ZERO TOLERENCE policy around bullying, discrimination and discriminatory violence regardless of the age of the perpetrator.  Both children and parents should be held equally accountable for acts of terror and violence targeting other youth.  Teachers, principals and school boards should be held accountable for acts of bullying occurring on their campuses  AND  for acts of violence that occur off campus  when the  seeds were planted and word was spread during school time. Family, friends and neighbors need to stand up for our youth; we need to speak out, jump in, notify authorities and stop pointing fingers or saying “it is not my problem”.  IT IS OUR PROBLEM.

Every evening the news carries stories of youth being bullied, after school “fight clubs”, malicious texting and abusive social media interactions and we turn the sound down, throw our hands up and wonder who is responsible.

WE ARE RESPONSIBLE.

WE DID THIS TO OUR YOUTH.

WE CREATED THIS PROBLEM.

AND WE NEED TO PUT AN END TO IT NOW.

 

We need to create more opportunities, both educational and social in which individuality and self-expression are supported, explored and celebrated.  When we foster competition over creativity and when sports teams are funded while the arts are being shut down  we are raising a generation more aggressive and less tolerant of those who are different. We need to back off on the pressures to succeed that we put on our children due to our own adult fears of failure.  Let them be kids, love them for all their crazy glory.  Stop trying to make them little adults imposing on them some weird standard for plastic perfection.  Let them PLAY and explore and create, then ask them to be responsible – not the other way around.   Our priorities need to change.

Our youth are our future.  In a society where adults turn a blind eye on youth picking on those who are unique what does that say about our future?  Where will our creativity disappear to?  Where will our individualism and all the things this country was founded on disappear to when our children are too afraid to stand out? Are we becoming a nation identical to the ones we fled from so many years ago?  Keep in mind that the world’s richest man was a geek – shunned for not being an athlete and meeting some “american standard” for athleticism and aggression.  What if he ended his life at 16  because he was weird and bullied?  What would we have lost?

To the parents out there:  Shame on you to those adults whose own closed minded perfectionism bred such intolerance in our children. Shame on you for closing your eyes, for your lack of accountability and your apathy.  You have forgotten your role.  As parents we hold great responsibility  – our children are not ours  to use as pawns or tools to foster our hatred and biases. They belong to the future and as such need guidance in staying the course of integrity and strength in the face of pressures to follow the easy path of conformity. And though you will never see this, to the parents of Colin:  I will never forget that your child died because you couldn’t love him for who he was instead of who you wanted him to be.  He was an amazing young man — too bad for all of us that you didn’t see that.  You set an example for all  parents to learn who our children really are …you may be pleasantly surprised.

Thankfully many, many more parents work hard to raise conscientious, caring and compassionate kids….THANK YOU.  I have the good fortune to know and work with many of your young people, and I love them dearly for how hard they work to do the right thing. You are teaching them that regardless of your  specific beliefs we all hold a piece of God, and to extinguish that  through demands of conformity or acts of violence, robs us all. I am so grateful for your compromises, your wisdom, your words and  your silence  even when your were scared.  As a single parent of young adults, I know how hard it is….but I also know that the most important thing we ever give our kids is acceptance.  And sometimes, that is a hard thing for us to give without any attachments.

To my fellow warriors, rebels, GBLT rule breakers, artists and creative souls….I love you all.  I honor all that you are, all that you have been and the challenges you have faced.  So many of you hid when you were young waiting for a safe time to be truly you….and I love who you have become!  I am so glad that you stayed here with us as you continue to brighten so many lives.  I wish that these kids could see you then and  now so that they would know what is possible. They so need to know what love and acceptance really looks like.  Thank you for helping all of us step up to being better people.

Please check out the following resources:

It Gets Better Project founded by Seattle’s Dan Savage

Pink  ”Perfect” explicit

Lady Gaga Born this Way lyrics

Cultivating asparagus April 20, 2011

I have been putting in an asparagus bed this Spring – an interesting process for a girl with some serious commitment issues. Growing asparagus takes a lot of preparation and care and needs to be left alone for two years before it is harvested. And not only does it take forever  before you can eat it, it hogs a whole lot of energy and valuable space. In order to make room for it, 2 large sheds got taken down, a ton of gravel was moved and a hundred wheelbarrows full of dirt were hauled across the yard to fill the 4’x11’x14” bed that will house a cluster of weedy looking roots. Counting a full year of planning and preparation, by the time I have a piece of roasted asparagus on my plate, nicely seasoned with olive oil, garlic and a little lemon pepper, I will have labored over it for three years without it even reaching its peak production for  several more. I’m preparing to commit to this vegetable longer than most things in my life.

My kids and I moved nearly 20 times in the nineteen years we lived together. We relocated for good reasons, and for bad….we have moved all of our stuff into storage units while we lived out of boxes, and unpacked full of hope time and time again. Each time I carefully packed the collection of bird nests my daughter said I kept because I was looking for my own place to nest. Each new home was like a new garden…an empty space waiting to be filled, full of promise that if I worked hard enough, it would be bountiful. In each I tended a garden of some sort, full of hope that the seeds I planted would unleash abundance on us.

Gardening is where the dreamer in me shines – where I can jump in head fist and watch the magic happen. It is a small world I get to be god of. I spent many winters reading garden catalogs, making plans and buying far more seeds than I ever really needed. Always hoping that this would be the one I got to keep, I threw my whole heart in with wild abandon. I dug every new garden myself, asking for and receiving no help…moving turf, hauling rocks and constructing beds.The problem was I spent little time distilling what I REALLY wanted, had the time and energy for  and whether the conditions were really right. It was one big all-or-nothing-try-everything-in-hope-that-something-works. Regardless of the suitability of the land to what I wanted, I attempted to build my dreams in an energetic frenzy of dirt moving and shit hauling.

Ironically (or maybe not) no matter how many times I planned, dug and sweated, or even how long I was able to tend that particular garden, I never really harvested what I planted. I confess – shamefully – I was a lifetime gardener who didn’t enjoy the fruits of her labors. Sure, I would nibble out of it and give stuff away to neighbors and friends, but as for harvesting and making the most of every zucchini, bean or lettuce leaf – well, most of it rotted. For all the time, energy, and work I put in, I never really got to be nourished by it. I dove in headfirst with enthusiasm and hope but was blinded by the enormity of possibility. I would lose focus, forget to water, get distracted and soon  it was too late. The window of opportunity was gone.

In my garden I had a big idea of what I wanted – but it was like comparing a relationship to a grocery store romance novel — little connection with reality or possibility. Even though I dreamed big and worked hard on it, it wasn’t necessarily what I wanted or capable of maintaining and I had to give up mid-stream. And all these years of running to and from many things – and myself  - meant that I had never learned how to cultivate my dreams. My lack of abundance in other areas of life left me seeking, yet unable to harvest, my dream anything much less garden. A lack of clarity about what I wanted had me planting far more seeds that I was interested in or able to take advantage of. I was a spectacularly hard worker but not so good at doing all that would have resulted in a successful harvest. When the garden had finally reached its maximum fertility and was ready to give back, I let the branches break for the weight of the fruit, and the stalks fell over top-heavy.  It was survival of the fittest…the toughest plants survived the attention/neglect then got packed up and moved on with me. The rest was left unapologetically in the compost heap.

This post was about gardening right?

To an outsider gardening looks like you can just plant, sit around watching it grow, pull a few weeds and then feast. It takes a great deal more planning and preparation in order to be successful. Choices about time and place, long term goals and quality of the available resources are critical to being able to continue productivity for the long term. The daily tending is critical to keeping it healthy.  And like so much of life, it is the small things you do that result in abundance. Sometimes in the in-between, when you are just tending to the dream, it is easy forget your intention and get distracted. Gardening and life are a constant re-commitment to the process –even when it looks like nothing is happening. We have to trust in the unseen, to believe that our care matters. Sometimes we have to re-evaluate mid-stream, make different decisions about our resources or take a break to rest the soil. We have to plan ahead to prevent disaster and anticipate our successes so that we are ready to receive.

Cancer changed much in my life, right down to the fact that my “garden” became 2 pots on the back porch and some real evaluation about what I wanted in life. Now that my kids had moved out, I only had my needs to consider and a clean slate. I had a gnawing sense of immediacy and my world had become a daily investigation of what was important to me in the moment. Gone was my endless energy for big, vague dreams and instead I asked myself regularly, “is this making me happy?” and “what do I really want?”.I was often surprised by the answers.

Some of that big dream I thought I wanted didn’t really apply to me. The job I thought was so important was not. And neither was questing after the status of being important. I wanted small, not large. What was actually valuable to me in my relationships was not necessarily what I had thought. I was really satisfied with the “happy hour menu” instead of the whole big sha-bang.  Most importantly, I began to realize I was worth the effort to plan for and have what I wanted then to enjoy whatever it was.

My boyfriend Neil began looking for his first house to buy while I lay in bed recovering from surgery. As he was working through finding what he really wanted I encouraged him to make a “treasure map” of what was most important and to firmly believe that it would lead him to the right home. I taught him the very work I was trying to embody myself and hoped that teaching would help the learning sink in. While he manifested his way to a new home, I mapped my way into a new life, questioning the importance of each step to make sure I was not throwing it all to the wind as I so often had.

And sure enough the house appeared – in not quite what was be anyone’s dream location, but certainly full of possibility and possessing every strength Neil considered important – down to room for the roses he hoped to grow. Though it was Neil’s home, I had made my own treasure map of what I hoped for in this next move: space to build love, the strengthening my health, staying close to my parents, time to self-reflect  wrapped in the sweet smell flowers and of course, a garden. We got the got the keys the night before my last radiation treatment. Come spring, we counted 30 rose bushes (!) and those mysterious tree-like plants all over the yard turned out to be a dozen different lilacs. The previous owner was a gardener and as it warmed up and my energy began to return, I filled her garden beds with vegetables and munched on the raspberries she had tended so carefully.  As I settled my nest collection into its new home, I couldn’t help but wonder if finally I had learned enough to have found my own nest location too.

That first summer I carefully tended a garden that had been there for many years with the tools that the little old lady had left for me to use. Fenced in and protected, there were many plants that were long established and an abundance of surprises. I grew only what I knew we could eat and what I had energy for, I shared the excesses of raspberries and beans but kept enough for me to make jam and put things away in the freezer for deep-winter treats. I planted flowers that I cut every week and tended the dozens of rose bushes making sure that I always brought the beauty indoors to enjoy all of the time.

Cautiously I dug into the dirt, my home and my relationships. I re-established connections with friends I hadn’t seen in years because I had felt so toxic. Neil and I remodeled the whole house  making it ours, sorting out the nuances of what we each wanted. We learned how to work together amidst the piles of rubble and dust left from tearing down the old in so many ways.  We called our friends and loved ones for help with the hard things and to join us in celebrating our successes.  Tentatively I extended little tendrils of roots and closed the exit doors I usually left open for me to escape. Where I used to plan far ahead and close myself off, now our house and garden is full of the laughter of family and friends who often stop by unannounced. Many quite evenings have passed with a glass of wine in hand watching our chickens root around in the dirt. And I have fully harvested two years worth of gardens, with a freezer full to prove it.

When I told my kids I was planning to plant asparagus they said “Whoa Mom, that is BIG!” And it is. This wasn’t something I could dig up and take with me in a pot or pack into a box.  Planting asparagus is a statement that I plan to be around to stick around to see it grow, to do the cautious work of preparing its home, to take care of it and enjoy it thoroughly when it ended up on my plate.

There is something way bigger at work here in this garden. I have stopped envisioning my life in big fairy tale format that had little connection to my sanity and dreams. I spend more time asking if this is my desire or someone else’s and try to act on that. When I focus on what I want, I stop running away from abundance and instead become more able to receive the fruits of my labor.  I allowed for the wisdom, tools and helping hands of the people around me, past and present, to help me tackle challenges instead of hiding, ashamed of my struggles and limited knowledge. As I become more comfortable with what I want and who I am without the extra distractions, I am able to set down roots. All gardeners know that the more nourished the roots the deeper they grow and the healthier the plant. And I feel my roots growing strong and deep and reaching outwards to anchor myself to this place.

The Jersey King asparagus that will arrive any day now has no idea how incredibly important it is. When I finally get to that dinner, I will have worked the same garden for 4 years – longer than I have ever stayed put in one place. It will also mean that I have allowed love in my life, and consistently maintained close friendships that nurture me, for the longest time ever.  Its survival means that I will have successfully cultivated hope and acted on my dreams in many aspects of my life for longer than I have ever. And most importantly, I stuck through the rain and dirt, sunshine and beautiful days to actually enjoy the effort I have put in. A lot rides on something that could die regardless of my attention. This asparagus – not even planted yet – represents far more than a tasty side dish. It represents the most important commitment I have ever made – the one to constantly and lovingly tend my own inner garden.

A Survivor’s Reminder April 14, 2011

Like most survivors, I am terrified of being diagnosed with cancer again.

Every weird feeling, illness or overtired day makes me think that something is seriously wrong with me. Facing these fears head on provides an opportunity to learn to stay present in the process when the fear of “what if” keeps you awake at night.

First, we must awaken compassion for ourselves.  We must treat our scared selves with the same love and caring that would give to our children or our dearest friend or lover.  Secondly, we need to clearly name the monster under the bed. Denying our inner experience and turmoil is not the solution any more than avoiding the situation is. By identifying our fears and what we are feeling, we gain the power and insight with which to deal with them.

We all have choices to make in how to view and react to the events going on around us or within us. Sometimes the choices we make about our responses are the only ones we get to make in the middle of the challenges we are facing. We can wallow in grief and confusion; be in denial, or ignore our level of fear and trauma.  We can be angry at cancer, at ourselves and at everyone around us. We can try to just get on with life and put it behind us and go back to “normal”. However, in learning to embrace our fears as part of our inner make-up and not deny their power allows us to create a deeper understanding and compassion for ourselves and ultimately for others as well.  By continuing to engage in life fully, even when we are scared, we grow richer in our ability to love and to heal ourselves and those around us.
- Robyn Lynn, Everett, WA

(Published  in the American Cancer Society Volunteer  HOPE newsletter April 2011  –   excerpted from a previous post: Warrior Training)

Light it up March 30, 2011

“Contradiction

I’m conflicted with being a hypocrite

And through these songs you can witness it

The difference is that I admit this shit

‘cause I’m just like you

Walking the fine line between saying it

And living it”

~Macklemore

I have quit writing more times than I can count.  In fact, I have quit many things – and people – more times than I can count.  I have avoided, belittled and stalled on amazing ideas and plans and I have been far less than I could be. I had gone into hiding and shirked my calling. I have ended friendships, jobs and avoided being recognized. I used to think that it was just a “commitment” issue that caused me to be unable to fully engage, but recently I heard words come out of my mouth that told a different story.

I was giving a long list of reasons why I really shouldn’t write to my son the other day.  He got frustrated with the never-ending excuses and said JUST DO IT MOM.  “I can’t” I replied.  “If I do, someone will find out someday that I can’t always live the story I tell, and they will call my bluff and everyone will know that I am a fake and it will be horrible”.  Openmouthed he looked at me and with thick eighteen year old sarcasm he said “REALLY, Mom?????”  Confessing this to a young adult fully in the throes of self-discovery shook me into realizing how universal this fear of being judged is, and how limiting.

The next day I got in the car and plugged in music my son introduced me to from Seattle hip hop master Macklemore in which he talks about the difficulties of being a white, middle class hip hop artist.  He speaks of the need to share your story and of the urge to create that goes beyond your own self-imposed boundaries. He totally gets the paralyzing fear that you are going to be called out on how well you walk the talk.  He challenges us to honor the places we are contradictory so that we are more true to ourselves and liberate our creativity from self-judgment.  Hmmm…..

I am often front and center in leadership roles that mask my own insecurities. I would love to live a quiet life out of the path of action but something keeps pushing me into it.  Destiny, karma, or whatever, has given me the ability and opportunity to serve others even though  I’d rather be unknown .  I have tried, but I can’t fight it. I have this over riding sense that I am supposed to speak up and speak out even as I worry that someday the skeletons in the closet are going to have a big ol’ dance party in front of everyone I know. I still hear the voice of someone I loved challenging me:  “How can you help other people when you are so screwed up?”.  Said years ago, it continues to echo within me.

Writing in particular is a challenging and often completely bipolar exercise. Some days I get up so excited to write that it is all I can do to get through the day until I can sit at the computer.  The words just flow out of me and the connection to a deeper wisdom is effortless.  It makes me incredibly happy and everything is good.  Other days the voices in my head drown out any enthusiasm with their shouting about how worthless it all is, how self-indulgent and arrogant I am. Worse yet….what a liar. I struggle with getting out of bed, much less with how to be my truest self.  I am often not a very good cancer survivor, and frequently can’t find anything positive about who I am now because of it. Most of the wisdom found on these pages was discovered at the end of many a long road of hardship that a truly wise person would have seen coming and avoided like the plague.  While I feel the truth in the words that flow so easily on those magical days, the reality of living them fully is often daunting enough for me to hide not only my gifts, but myself.  What if I am wrong?  What if I can’t?  Who am I to say these things?  For God’s sake, what if someone finds out I am human!???

In my all or nothing life, I frequently judge myself too harshly –if I am not all wise, than I am nothing.  And if I am nothing, well, then that is just how it is so I should keep my head down and maybe no one will notice.  Certainly don’t put myself in front of an audience who will all be there to see me fall.

But,  there it is….I sit with the knowing that I am both wise and stupid, successful and not, and to live this life fully, both sides of the coin must be embraced.  I do walk the fine line between saying it and living it, and am nothing if not a frequent contradiction.

Perhaps I need to remember the day I went to give a speech (for which I had paid a lot of attention to how I looked)  to have my mom tell me I had chicken shit on my stilettos. We laughed it off after a cleanup and I went to the microphone relaxed.  The speech went great -I came off as smart and funny and looked pretty good too.  No one knew about the poop….and maybe it was just what I needed to keep me grounded and focused on what part of me was most important.

It would seem fairly obvious that we all are in process, and we shouldn’t judge ourselves so harshly for where we are not living up to the face we put on for everyone else.  But we do.  I have too many friends that agonize over where they think themselves a disappointment to others, who choose not to love fully or pursue their dreams because they need to keep their carefully developed persona intact.  We are so aware of our own faults and mistakes that we wear them as a shield to protect ourselves from our dreams.  It is an awfully heavy burden to lug around.

I challenge you to look within at the areas where you act as if you are less;  where you don’t stick your neck out, say what you need to say, act on your dreams or love as fully as you would like because someone might see the contradiction in your intentions and your actions. Don’t listen to the people who scoff at how “you talk one thing and do another”, who question the validity of what you know, who hold you back because of what it means to them if you take risks.  If we change ourselves, the whole world will change with us because we are all so connected.  And if we call our own bluff and show the man behind the curtain, everyone will all be affected and called to a deeper place of integrity and honesty that will change all of us.

My confusion about the right path to take and the way I often flail around in my life are the same struggles others face more or less publicly.  We are not diminished by our challenges, but fed by them.  We all live lives of contradiction because we are complex ever- evolving beings.  There is grace in holding both the wisdom and the idiocy, and true depth and meaning come from a heart that has been strengthened by both.

I am sure there will be many more days where I feel like a hypocrite and unable to live with the contradiction in what I am able to do vs. what I write about.  I write this not as an apology or a public exposure of my weaknesses in order to cover my ass, but as a way for me to speak the truth about all that I am so that I can be more.  I have written nearly everywhere in this blog that we must live into what we choose instead of into our fear not because I am good at it, but because I must keep reminding myself.  We hide all we can be because we fear that in showing our brilliance we will also expose our dark.  As the chorus to the Macklemore song goes, we must “light it up to burn it down”.  And so I write today and each day  to light a match for me and for you and you and you and you and you…………..

(Check out this amazing music….Macklemore \”Contradiction\”)

How do YOU define support? February 24, 2011

sup·port (s-pôrt, -prt)  tr.v. sup·port·ed, sup·port·ing, sup·ports

1. To bear the weight of;  hold in position so as to keep from falling, sinking, or slipping
2. To give moral or psychological support, aid, or courage to
3. To be capable of bearing; withstand
4. To keep from weakening or failing; strengthen
5. To provide aid in battle

How we ask for and receive support in times of trouble is a critical piece in our healing and progression towards a more fully and compassionately lived life. Even taking a closer look at how we refuse help provides clues to what we really need if we bother to pay attention. Learning to identify what is helpful in how we want to be taken care of by ourselves and others, is challenging as we tend to either say YES or NO to help without much other thought. Much deeper soul level healing can be achieved by taking time to investigate what we really want and by being brave enough to ask for and accept it.

Facing a world full of challenges that are enough to take the wind out of even Pollyanna’s sails, we all occasionally need the assistance, care and support of the people around us. Our friends and family have perspectives that enable us to gain an alternative viewpoint than the one that clouds our view when we are feeling weak or troubled. Giving ourselves the chance to rest and let other people take over some of the physical work speeds our healing and gets us back on our feet sooner. Accepting the physical and emotional help of people who are not entrenched in whatever our current drama is gives us assistance, perspective and room to breathe — if it is really the sort of help that feeds our soul.

But sometimes being able to talk to someone, or having loved ones who are trying to be helpful by getting things done, is not conducive to us moving through our current troubles. We are supposed to be (and want to be!) grateful for what is offered to us but we don’t pause to analyze if it serves us or if it just makes our “helpers” feel better because they did something.  Sometimes receiving “support” results in us feeling empty, unfulfilled and misunderstood instead of rejuvenated and loved.

We often try so hard to not be “needy” that we often cannot even identify what would even be superficially helpful – mush less what keys would unlock room for genuine healing for us. We are afraid to ask for what we desire because we fear being seen as selfish or ungrateful for what is offered.  But rather than being selfish, effectively utilizing the resources around us shows respect for the people who are trying to be helpful and respect for ourselves as it enables movement towards healing.

How we individually define support will change – sometimes rapidly – based on what is going on internally and externally. Sometimes support may look like having people call us for a chat or coffee date; other times it will mean being left alone for awhile – knowing that someone will check to make sure we haven’t gotten buried under a pile of old magazines after a week or two. Support could look like a bottle of wine or a movie or a gift certificate for a bookstore or some housecleaning. Sometimes support extends beyond what our loved ones can offer and we must accept their limitations and support our own healing by getting professional help.

Often times the hardest thing is simply saying YES to offers of meals, childcare, a ride someplace or household help. While these things may not have been high on our list of things we knew we needed/wanted, the fact that someone else took care of them will enable us to put our attention elsewhere. Set boundaries about times for visits/help, assign someone else to organize mass assistance offers, respond by emails instead of phone calls so that you can control when and how you communicate, make wish lists of things you would like to do/have accomplished/or need.  Most of all: LET THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU SHOW YOU THAT THEY DO. In allowing the people around us to care for  us, we begin to see ourselves through their more compassionate eyes allowing ourselves to heal inside and out.

Many of us are raised to be fiercely independent and it can be an incredibly hard thing to ask for assistance much less to accept offers of help. Whether we are in need physically or emotionally, paying attention to what would help us feel better and asking for that from our loved ones allows them to feel connected to us. Receiving assistance can enable us to dedicate time and energy to the deeper healing that only we can do for ourselves. Rather than seeing us as a burden, people will surprise us with their wiliness to lend a hand, and ear, and open heart. We all go through times of needing to be set back on our feet.  If you simply cannot take for yourself without guilt, pledge to “pay it forward” and accept what is offered with gratitude and humility knowing you will have an opportunity to help someone in the future.

But likewise, support should not be something we ask for, or whine about not getting, because we are too lazy, unwilling or resistant to change to pick ourselves up. We need to clarify our personal definition of support and our motives for claiming need of it in order to accept what is offered in a way that helps us gain strength instead of enabling our difficult situation. We cannot bury our heads in the sand and then cry about how no one cared enough to dig us out. We cannot hold ourselves back from healing and growth because we are scared and then place blame on the people around us that they didn’t do enough for us. We cannot use the fact people are stepping in to help us as an excuse for not stepping up to the plate and taking our turn at bat.

People often think that “support” is like a bra — something that holds you together. Based on this errant belief we may desire support because we want someone else to be in charge or reject it because we think we should be tough and not involve anyone else. While we all may go through a time when we need a friend to help hold us together, support is more like a climbing harness – something to catch us when we fall rather than something that we stay in to keep us from flopping around. It is the backup plan for when things are unpredictable, surrounding us with protection that we have put together for ourselves. Now and then we have put more weight on it in order to make our next move, and sometimes it catch us when we lose strength or the unexpected happens. But it is understood that you can’t keep climbing if you just hangout in it.

Sometimes we claim that we are need of support – or we are angry we are not receiving enough of it – when the reality is that “support” is not what we are really most in need of. One of my best friends was going through a divorce with a someone who claimed he never supported her. The problem wasn’t the lack of support – it was that he held her up so frequently that she no longer had legs of her own to walk on. In his love for her, he allowed her to wallow in her depression, anxiety and self-pity instead of kicking her in the butt. She wanted someone else to take control of her life and for awhile he did, even though he had no way of knowing if that was really right for HER. She cared little about herself and her apathy created barriers to helping herself or receiving real assistance. She was in a hole and wasn’t putting a lot of thought into how to get out herself out – much less how to ask someone to help her find a shovel. She, like all of us sometimes, had to hit bottom to realize it is time to stop hanging in the climbing harness and resume the journey.

Sometimes we simply must fall — it is often at bottom that we suddenly realize how much of ourselves we let go of and how distanced from our hopes and dreams we have gotten.  Hard times give us an opportunity to put some thought into what we really want. We can ask whether the standards we have set for ourselves are good enough – or are too high; if the things we thought brought us joy really do and how we really want to live our lives from this place forward. We can begin to investigate what WE want and need, instead of what we think we need to do or be for other people.

We are not alone in these times….our friends and loved ones are standing in the wings ready to offer a hand once we make the decision that we – and our lives – are worth working on and ultimately saving. This is not about anyone taking over for you for the long term – it is about a lift over a mud puddle-or a chasm-until you get your own wings back. The people who care about us hand us a mirror to see who we have been and the potential of all we really are. They can remind us of what is important – and what is not – providing valuable clues into creating a supportive structure around us that enables us to become the best we can be. But it is not up to them to figure out how to fix things or to save us…we must actively investigate what kind of help will enable us to grow, heal and provide insight into what our next steps must be.

As we take the time to ask ourselves what real support looks like for us we learn more about our own inner life and provide compassionate room for ourselves to heal and incorporate the changes that challenges can bring. We can more effectively take advantage of the generosity of others and use our own experience to better serve our loved ones in the future.  Whether it is an illness, a divorce or other times of trouble, the challenges we face give us an opportunity not only to see how we push through, but how we care for ourselves. Listening to and acting on our own needs – instead of being an act of selfishness – enables us to gain strength to heal and ultimately to give back.

Victim or Survivor? January 17, 2011

I have a cancer survivor friend who has become a victim of the disease.  He has let the diagnosis of several years back claim not only his past, but his future.  Cancer took control of his life without permission, and now even though it is gone, it still rules his world.  In his view his life is ruined and he is perpetually traumatized by all that happened as a result.  The fact that it showed up unannounced “proved” to him how little control he has over things, so why even try? Even when questioned about what he really wants out of life, his attitude is one of “It’s not going to happen so why ask? It just makes it harder to deal with the challenges. I just have to deal with what is in front of me and not expect anything else.”

Survivorship and believing yourself to be victim – or acting as if you are one – are in direct opposition to each other and to life.

This is not just a cancer issue, cancer just happens to be my obvious example.  Survivorship and its impending challenges, joys  and difficulties, happens after financial devastation, unexpected career shifts and  divorce.  Becoming a survivor is a process in which you choose to make decisions that support forward movement instead of wallowing in the events that have drug you down.  It can be an immediate state of mind, it can come long after the event, or it can be an elusive state that is desired but never embodied. Like my friend, we can physically survive an event, but that does not mean that we have re-engaged in living.

The opportunity to be a survivor may be thrust upon us but we have a choice to take it on or ignore it.  We may make it through the series of traumatic events that landed us here, but how whole we emerge from it in depends on us. To be a survivor requires making a choice to take your life into your hands and to own it.

In his book Deep Survival, Laurence Gonzales explores the science and facts behind who survives a traumatic experience and who becomes a victim of it.  Writing primarily about wilderness accidents, he says “psychologists who study survival say that people who are rule followers don’t do as well as those who are of independent mind and spirit.”   (pg85)  He goes on to explore why outdoor adventurers  who have planned thoroughly , are highly trained, experienced and most of all consciously prepared for danger, make terrible deadly decisions that run counter to everything they should have known.

His research shows how some people are so connected to the “plan” that when faced with all evidence pointing to why the plan should change, they continue to push onwards.  They cannot revise their vision of what they want to match their current reality. Rethinking their situation and goals would allow for new avenues of possibility -and survival – but  instead they keep moving forward based on information that is no longer relevant to their current situation.  The mechanism of the mind that keeps saying  that if you just keep looking you will find the trail gets you more and more lost  - the reality is that you are alone in the dark and need to conserve your resources and come up with a new plan.

Our original life plan is full of goals, hopes and dreams …then a major traumatic event interrupts.  We just want to get through it alive and in one piece. For cancer survivors, other people step in during diagnosis and treatment and take control telling you what needs to be done,  keeping  you moving through necessary procedures and boosting  you along emotionally on the river of treatment like a life-raft.   While you are fighting the disease you are focused and have a definite idea of what outcome you want. The path is clear in front of you and there is a definite course of action. The parts of the fight for your life that are uncomfortable are tinged in a rosy glow of purpose.  There is a plan, and, if you are one of the lucky ones, in the end, the plan works and you are disease free. You are surrounded by people who help you along the path and you clearly intend to return to the real world at the end of it and rejoin your well-planned life.

One would think that in living through a life threatening disease this is where the battle ends, but it is only the beginning.  Not preparing for post-trauma survivorship is like climbing to the top of Everest thinking that the real work is done and now “all you have to do” is get back down.  There is great danger in not realizing that the journey home is as equally fraught with risk, and perhaps more so as now that the goal has been met and we surround ourselves in thoughts about returning to the real world.

If you are reading  this, unlike the explorers in Gonzales book,  your  initial “plan” worked out – and you like me,  have survived the initial traumatic event . But we are now entering into a whole different survival adventure that requires of us fresh perspective and new choices. Killing cancer cells, getting the divorce, or spending months without a job was not the battle.  These were only the events that got us to the point of having to show up in the moment and  revise our plans.  Survivorship is what happens AFTER.  Our work as survivors begins when we actively chose to reengage in a different life than we had before  – moving forward instead of staying stuck in the event or in what we used to be.  The airplane has crashed  –   but how we live on the island is actually the piece that is the most important  and the most interesting.

We cannot return to the way things were. We cannot waste our precious time wishing things were otherwise.  We cannot stay stuck in the trauma that we have been through.  In order to survive we must re-create our reality. We must remain flexible and alert to signs of possibility.  We are still in a critical state of action that requires our intention to be clear, just as when we were fighting the battle.

At the end of Deep Survival Gonzales has an appendix called “Rules of Adventure”  in which he lists 12 points that seem to be universal in  “how survivors think and behave in the midst of a difficult situation”.  Some of them include the obvious like keeping calm; others are more unusual like playing and seeing the beauty around you even in the middle of a dire situation.

The last point stands out:  “Never give up – let nothing break your spirit”.

While we are fighting the battle surrounded by support staying on the forward moving track may be relatively easy, but afterwards  - when we really embody survivorship – are  our spirits intact?  As we have had to revise our plans (maybe multiple times) ; now that the world and our lives are different than what we counted on,  are we our best person?  As we deal with all the changes, feel more alone and  people no longer seem as actively supportive as they were when we were in crisis, are we still our own hero?  Have we been able to let go of all that we wanted, and instead adapt to all that is?  Are we still dreaming big and making plans for our new lives instead of wishing that we could return to how it was before?

Survivorship is rising above and beyond what happened to us.  It is about taking the reins and dealing with EVERYTHING that happened to us – especially our actions after situations that were thrust on us and  seem to be beyond our control.  Survivorship  is about looking at where we were and where we are now and choosing to move beyond both. Though it may seem unjust that we are presented with the challenges we face, we are being tested and given an opportunity to rise above.  How far we rise depends on each of us.

( For more information please read: Deep Survival: Who lives, Who Dies and Why, Laurence Gonzales, 2003, W.W.Norton)

Tigers Above and Below (blog version) December 9, 2010

So often in life we are faced with situations that seem to have no positive outcome viewed from our current perspective.  As we are perched precariously between difficult situations in which we feel like we have lost control we are actually a place in which we can actively choose to shape our experience instead of being along for the ride.  Our day to day lives are often a series of bumping along from one crisis or stress or activity that absorbs us in its drama.  We build stories around why it “this”  so important, what will happen if we don’t do something, and what might happen if we do.  We willingly, although without realizing it, give up our power by making decisions based on how our lives are happening TO us instead of based on how we WANT to live our lives.  We operate from a place of fear instead of from our own inner wisdom.

We can pause and see this as an opportunity to call the shots instead of sitting passively while stuff happens to us.  We can actively choose how we want to use our precious time and energy. Even when all outcomes seem dire, there is beauty around us that will help us free ourselves from the grip of the negative and shine a light on ways to stay present  in the moment and make decisions based on what is true for us.

There is a story in Zen Buddhism that goes like this….

A man crossing a field encounters a tiger. The man flees, the tiger pursues. Coming to a cliff top, the man grabs the root of a vine and swings himself down below the tiger’s reach. The tiger waits. Looking down the precipice upon which he precariously swings, the man sees another tiger looking expectantly upwards at him. As if this were not sufficient cause for peril, two mice begin to chew the root from which he hangs. As he digests his unenviable condition, the man sees a ripe strawberry within his reach. Releasing the vine with one hand, he gently picks the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

When we are asked to choose between the lesser of several evils we often sit in a place of turmoil while we struggle with our sense of powerlessness.  We can spend our time fretting about the inevitable tigers and how fast we are going to fall or take a moment to be present in the moment and hear the inner voice that guides us towards our highest good.  When we wrap ourselves in fear over potential outcomes, we let go of our ability to receive .  It is simply not possible to accept a gift with a tightly clenched hand. The man in the story had to release the vine in order to pick the strawberry.  The possibilities for us are endless when we let go of our fear about what MIGHT be.

In the pause we take to “digest our unenviable condition” we open ourselves to seeing beauty, to hearing our inner voice, and to be available to small miracles.  We can choose to focus on the tiger or on our lifeline breaking and in a place of fear never let go to experience the sweetness of the strawberry.  What if the man in the story never paused, what if he never took the risk and found the joy that small gift? What do we stand to lose by focusing on the “good” around us and let the “bad” take care of itself?  We frequently take risks when we are in the active state of problem solving, but how often do we take a risk in order to have a beautiful experience, or one true to who we really are?  How often are we allowing ourselves to choose our experience based on our desires  instead of our fears?

It is easy to see difficult events as something that happened to us and  to feel as if we have  to act  now in order to regain control.  We make decisions based on what we think others want or see as “right” instead of listening to our hearts or we angrily make decisions because we feel we have no other choice.  “THIS (insert your drama here!) happened to me and now I have lost control “ is frequently the underlying feeling even when we put on a positive face for the outside world.  Fear paralyzes us and we do not see that we are the ones in control over our destiny.

Challenges are  another opportunity to come to terms with how closely are aligned with what our heart really desires and who we truly are. Challenges hold a mirror up to us and shows us where we are and asks  “is this where you want to be”?  Difficult times teach  us to take the reins in our lives and begin making decisions for what is in our own highest good based on the inner voice we give room to by taking a moment to pause in the middle of our own story.

As a breast cancer patient diagnosed suddenly without having had any symptoms I underwent dramatic and difficult treatment options immediately.  For some reason, maybe because I had no time to think about things, I sat in a place of acceptance that this was what was required to save my own life. But when the day came that I was asked to keep taking a drug that I wasn’t sure was right for me, I felt like I had run from the tiger only to be sitting on that branch looking  at more potentially bad options.  I had done what I was told, I had fought the good fight and yet I had to take a drug that made me feel sick, out of control and not like myself in order to increase my chances of staying well.  I was angry and frustrated and felt like cancer had screwed up my life.  I felt I only had decisions to make that made me unhappy and sick and that cancer had taken control of everything – even long after the diagnosis.

After much discussion with my family, it was universally decided that being okay NOW was infinitely better than continuing to act out of a place of fear.  I spent much time talking, reflecting and creating how I really wanted my life to be.  I decided that I wanted to be the one in charge – not cancer -  and while the tigers may not totally go away, there was a place for me to make a decision that resulted in a future I chose.  I created space to listen to my heart and make decisions based on how I wanted to LIVE.

I could have come to this decision from the other direction as well…. I could have chosen to keep taking the drug in order to reduce the questions about whether I am doing enough to care for myself. It doesn’t matter what the decision is –- it only matters that you make the decision having paused and listened to your heart and what was true for you . We must take the risk to experience our life in this moment for what we CHOOSE it to be, regardless of all the tigers growling around us.

As a cancer survivor I know the truth of the statement “How sweet it is!”  Moments  of joy are so often infused with an extra saturation of beauty that stems from having to fight for so much.  I cry easier, love more deeply and pause more often because of those tigers that reminded me of how dear this life is.  But we are all  human and get wrapped up in the drama that unfolds around us  in  our daily lives and forget the lesson taught by that strawberry dangling within reach.  Take time to stop worrying about what might happen, or how to get yourself out of the moment. Listen to your heart and to what it is telling you.  Pause for a moment to ponder instead of act or respond.  Take a risk to give yourself the gift of being true to your highest good.  There are always tigers so why not enjoy a strawberry when you can?

(This article appeared in the  January 2011 edition of Breast Cancer Wellness Magazine in a slightly different version)