Yesterday, I watched a woman park in the bus zone for 15 solid minutes. Her car was off, she got out, put her shoes in the trunk, and basically couldn’t care less that she was doing something illegal. I kept thinking she parked in the bus zone because she had car trouble but no, eventually her friend sauntered out of the BART station and the woman started her car – slowly, I might add – and took her sweet time leaving.
I was floored. In that same situation, I know I would have been fidgety, glancing over my shoulder every two seconds waiting for a bus or a cop car to pull up. I can’t help but contrast this woman’s behavior with mine, someone who cares too much.
 Look at this dog! This dog couldn’t care less. |
Last week, I flew home from Vienna where I sat in a window seat. Luckily, there was no one in the middle seat, but there was a woman in the aisle seat. I have to go to the bathroom approximately every hour, and on a six-hour flight, it can be obnoxious for the people who have to keep getting up for me. I noticed the woman started getting huffy and I began caring about what she thought of me. A stranger. A person I will never see again. I wanted this woman to like me, to not get upset with me, to hold me in positive regard, and so I resolved to use the bathroom less. That is, until I realized my bladder wasn’t having any of that and got up anyway in as polite and gracious a way as I could muster.
The experience got me thinking about how I care sooo much about how other people are responding to me. I’m over being judged for how I look, speak, and dress – for the most part – but I’m still sensitive to how others react to me. If I’m doing something that causes someone any negative emotion, I want to modulate my behavior immediately to please them, even if it means discomfort for me. Um, this is nicht sehr gut, as they say in German. I can’t spend my life constantly trying to please other people. The very act of being alive means I’m going to ruffle some feathers.
I can’t try to shrink myself or shirk my own needs in order for other people to like me. I can’t disappear or live in a bubble. I’m an adult and as an adult I need to take care of myself, even if that means disappointing someone else, or annoying someone else, or angering someone else. To make that process easier, I need to care less. I’m not saying we should all start parking illegally in bus zones or acting like jerks in order to get our needs met, but maybe those of us who care a lot need to care less. And vice versa.
I dream of a world where we each find the sweet spot between caring too much and caring too little. A world where we’re considerate of each other, but not overly so. A world where we take care of ourselves to the best of our capacity while also taking care of those around us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This post comes to you from Vienna, Austria. That’s relevant because I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself to practice my German. “Rebekah! How often are you given the opportunity to go to a German-speaking country? You need to take advantage of this!” Nevermind the fact I only speak about three words, have a terrible accent, and am unclear about the sentence structure. Nevermind that speaking to strangers makes me nervous and I’m already stressed about doing my job well covering a conference — the reason that I’m in Vienna in the first place. It seems like a good idea to pile even more on and berate myself for not speaking German, no?
Right. What it boils down to is fear of missing an opportunity. I’m scared that if I don’t take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way they’ll never come around again and be gone forever. Except, that’s not really true. I mean, it is for some things — if a relative is on her deathbed and there’s an option to go see her, yes, do that, but little things like practicing German or attending a concert? That stuff comes around again.
Opportunity will keep knocking at your door.
In fact, in my experience, if something is meant to be, it will definitely come around again. The things, experiences, and objects that are meant to be in my life will come into my life and I don’t need to worry about missing them. Here’s a small example. Everyone and their mother has recommended the book to me, The Highly Sensitive Person. If I had a nickel for every time someone said, “Do you know you’re a highly sensitive person?” I’d be a millionaire. Finally, a friend gifted it to me so now I’m reading it. I know it’s a small example, but I have larger examples too (see: Just a Girl from Kansas).
One of my favorite quotes, which I’m paraphrasing, comes from Rev. Michael Bernard Beckwith who says, “Opportunity doesn’t knock, it will beat down your door.” I’ve found that to be true for me. Perhaps I can relax then about not speaking German frequently while I’m here. Perhaps I can calm down with all the carpe diem-ing I’m doing. Perhaps I’d be better off staying present with myself and showing up authentically instead of forcing myself to do something because I’m scared I won’t get another chance. Maybe it’s time for me to relax into the knowledge that opportunities I’m meant to have will beat down my door and it’s my job to say yes only when I mean it.
I dream of a world where we realize opportunity keeps knocking. A world where we don’t pressure ourselves when it’s unnecessary. A world where we relax and show up authentically for ourselves allowing our true desires to shine through.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I am en route to Vienna so I’m reposting this blog from April.
A million years ago I saw a refrigerator magnet that said, “You are what you think so choose your thoughts wisely!” I obviously agree with this sentiment – up to a point. A very wise friend said to me once, “The only true thing about a thought is that it’s a thought.” Yes.
I can get very attached to my thoughts, especially the negative ones. I can start to believe the ugly voices in my mind and it’s not always so easy to flip them to positive ones. Sometimes it’s easier to remember I am not what I think and I am not what I identify with. Giving myself some distance allows me to feel better because it’s true – I am not my thoughts, I am beyond my thoughts.
The point of the meditation I practice is to remind myself I am an expression of an infinite loving consciousness – I’m trying to reach a point beyond thought, beyond drama, beyond anything other than pure and perfect love. So no, I am not the insecure child within me, I am not the drama queen, I am not the writer, I am not any of the labels I adhere to because ultimately I am beyond them, I am more than them.
I really can’t express that in words because who I am is also beyond words, so instead I will leave you with a picture as a reminder. Whenever I look at images of space I am reminded I am more than this body, this mind, this life. I am that.
I looove space (as I think you know). It helps me feel expansive.
I dream of a world where we remember we are not our thoughts. A world where we remember a thought is just a thought. A world where we detach from our mind’s dramas. A world where we frequently put ourselves in a place beyond words and beyond time. A world where we feel with utmost certainty who and what we really are.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I had a funny incident take place that showed me just how much of the anxiety I experience is of my own making.
On Tuesday, I sent off a flurry of text messages – to my landlord, a close friend, a new friend, etc. – and didn’t hear back from any of them. Not a single person. I made and received calls, but not a single text message came through. Being the person I am, I went into a tizzy and started imagining the worst: “I’m being a nuisance! They don’t want to be friends anymore! They’re trying to send me a passive-aggressive message!”
Wouldn’t it be cool if we could take certains things out of our heads like taking off a mask?
On the periphery of my brain, I postulated perhaps the people I texted were busy, but I didn’t give that thought much credence because clearly the more plausible theory was the one where everybody decided they wanted nothing to do with me. It may sound ridiculous – and it is ridiculous – but that’s where my brain goes and it takes a lot to convince me otherwise.
I turned off my phone on Tuesday night, still with nary a text, woke up on Wednesday, and had 11 text messages. All of the people I texted on Tuesday had responded to me shortly after I contacted them, but my phone was being weird and I didn’t receive the messages until Wednesday. That’s never happened to me before. All of that worry and anxiety for nothing.
It reminded me that so much of what I’m anxious about never comes to pass. That I put myself in these anxious states by the thoughts I think. It’s easy to say, “Well, think different thoughts!” but I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to become more logical when I feel so illogical. A new practice that I’m trying is to ask myself, “How do I know this is true?” That simple question allows me the space to step back and remind myself, “Oh yeah! I don’t know it’s true. It’s only my thoughts/pictures that tell me so,” and somehow my rational brain is able to come back online. Because really, most of this stuff is in my head.
I dream of a world where we recognize much of what we worry about is only in our minds. A world where we don’t believe everything we think. A world where we’re able to take a step back and ask ourselves for some evidence of the thoughts we think.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I felt like a cuckoo bird. Sitting in a room full of boxes in a new place will do that to me. I noticed that because I felt insecure in my living space (i.e., everything was new and disorganized), that also meant my insecurity regarding relationships came up. I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m anxious attachment, which in a nutshell means I feel uncertain in my relationships.
That anxiety and sensitivity was on hyperdrive this week as I found myself spinning out over the tiniest things. For instance, I texted my neighbor and when she didn’t respond right away I started thinking the worst: “She doesn’t want to talk to me! I’m bugging her! She regrets having me as her neighbor!” Of course, that wasn’t true and instead she was just busy, but still. When I’m in that anxious state I take everything personally. I try to read people’s minds and make every action, or inaction, of theirs a reflection on me. I want to modulate my behavior in order to maintain a connection with the person.
What I love about this picture is you think it’s just a drop on a leaf but it’s NOT! Kinda like how if you look closer you see things are between God and us.
Talk about making myself crazy, right?
One of the things that helped me so much with this is a quote misattributed to Mother Teresa. It’s a variant or paraphrase of The Paradoxical Commandments by Kent M. Keith, but I like the inaccurate quote better than the original:
“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”
Ahhhh. I’m breathing a sigh of relief just reading that again. Whenever I try to curb or modulate my behavior, I’m making it between us, when actually it’s between God and me. When I express my love for another, I’m really expressing my love for God in the form of a person, and it’s not up to me whether the person accepts it or not. That part is out of my hands. And because the universe is infinite and creative, it’s quite likely that if the person I’m expressing affection to rejects it, I’ll receive love from some other person. For God, there is no limit and there is no distinction.
What I’m saying is it doesn’t matter if my neighbor doesn’t text me back right away, or some guy rejects me, because it was never between us. It was between God and me anyway, and the more I shore up my relationship with my higher power, the better off I’ll be. The more that I stop taking things so personally and practice forgiveness, kindness, honesty, and service regardless of how people respond, the happier I will be.
I dream of a world where we we see relationships as an expression between God and ourselves. A world where we show up fully regardless of other people. A world where we value our relationship with ourselves because we understand ultimately everything is between God and us anyway.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Often when I’m praying it ends up resembling a wishlist. For instance, when I’m looking for a new place to live I’ll say, “Higher Power, please help me find a place to live that’s safe, quiet, fits all my belongings, in ____ neighborhood, with laundry onsite, plenty of storage space, and where I can see trees outside my window.” And then I start visualizing and fervently praying – or more like begging – saying “please, please, please” over and over again like a mantra.
And then I get what I asked for. Maybe not exactly – usually the neighborhood is a little further afield than I’d like – but all the other things are there. However, I get things I didn’t want either, like overprotective dogs, loud neighbors, poor insulation, or something else that compels me to leave. The trouble is, I don’t have all the information, and I won’t ever because I’m not omniscient. That leads me to believe that perhaps I don’t know what’s best for me after all and maybe I need to leave that up to an all-knowing entity.
This photo seems to encapsulate my idea of a prayer. Not sure why, but it does.
According to my beliefs, Higher Power, God, Brahma, the universe, whatever label you want, is omniscient, so it seems to me the best thing I can do is to align my will with the universe’s. One of the things that’s different about where I currently live – besides the impossible way it came about – is instead of having a wishlist, every morning I said, “Higher Power, please place me where you want me. I want what you want for me. I don’t know what’s best for me, only you do, so please align my will with yours.” And this apartment is what showed up. It’s everything I wanted and more, like being next door to a friend and within walking distance of a pool. I’m finding that when I leave things up to Higher Power, my wildest dreams are ant-sized compared with what lies ahead.
I have to believe because I did things differently, this living situation will turn out differently. Thus far it has. I moved in less than a week ago and already I’m more unpacked than I was in my last place. It’s not because I have more energy or more help, rather it’s because I want to unpack. I already feel settled in energetically so I want to settle in physically. With my last places, a part of me obviously knew they wouldn’t work out so why bother unpacking? I have to admit I’m still gun shy; I’m still worried something will be horrible about where I’m currently living that will compel me to move, but at least I can say I wasn’t trying to force my will. That instead I was in a state of surrender, acceptance, and openness. That it came about not through wishing but through praying.
I dream of a world where instead of prayers being wishlists we pray to align our will with a power greater than our own. A world where we understand we don’t know all the answers and we won’t ever, so we can’t possibly know what to ask for in the future. A world where we each live in a state of surrender, acceptance, and serenity.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I got a wallop of self-inflicted shame. Ugh, is there anything worse than that cheeks-burning, hang-dog feeling? As the shame I feel doesn’t stem from harm I’ve caused myself or others, it’s not aiding anything and becomes another way that I’m mean to myself. What comforted me was hearing that shame is a perception, but also that there’s nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing broken that needs to be fixed. I don’t fully believe that, but I loved hearing the message so much I thought I’d write a letter to you and to me. For some extra oomph, listen to the audio so I can tell you just how awesome you are. =)
This picture makes me warm and fuzzy, which I think we could all use more of.
My dear, there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing broken that needs to be fixed. There is nothing horrible that needs correcting. You are lovely and amazing just as you are in this moment. I know that may be hard to hear, but it’s true. If absolutely nothing changed, you would still live a full and rich life. I know there are parts you don’t like, parts that you’d like to change, and that’s OK, but at the same time, recognize those are choices and not requirements. You aren’t required to change any part of your person or your life. You could keep going as you are now and still be loved, respected, and fulfilled. Nothing has to change. It doesn’t. If you want it to, that’s a different story, but nothing has to.
You are doing great! I think you are doing a terrific job and I am so proud of you. Proud of who you are and who you’re becoming. Proud of all the things you have accomplished and will accomplish. You aren’t broken, or defective, or any of the things you tell yourself. You are a work in progress, but even if the progress stopped, what’s here is magnificent.
I understand that you feel ashamed, but I promise there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing broken that needs to be fixed. Most people feel ashamed about something. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. You are not alone now or ever. You are a part of that great, big, messy group called “human.” And you’re doing great! Let me emphasize one more time that you are loved, just as you are. If things continued like this, you would have a good life so you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, I swear. You are a treasure and a gift and I love you.
I dream of a world where we stop shaming ourselves unnecessarily. A world where we understand we are fine just as we are. A world where we know we aren’t broken and don’t need fixing. A world where we accept and love ourselves as we embrace our magnificence.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
About six years ago a friend found a bookmark stashed between some pages and gave it to me. “Make the impossible possible,” it says. It’s been taped to my computer ever since. I love the idea of making the impossible possible (obviously), and this week there was evidence of just that.
As you know, I’ve been looking for a place to call my own for the millionth, billionth time. Since I came back to the Bay Area on New Year’s, I’ve been staying with various friends and in a little cottage I found through airbnb.com. A pretty miraculous thing that I mentioned is I’ve been easygoing about the whole “finding a place to live” situation. I haven’t been too worried about it because I just wasn’t, plus I pulled a petulant-child tantrum and said, “Universe, if you want me to live here, you have to find me a place to live!”
I get to live here! And by “here” I mean several miles away.
What unfolded was incredible. Every day I scoured craigslist multiple times waiting for something to show up. It never did. Everything in my price range was either a.) in a bad neighborhood b.) too small or c.) both. Yet I maintained my optimism that if I was supposed to look further afield, I would receive that guidance. Little did I know apartments would come to me and not the other way around.
A friend called me up and said he knew someone with a studio apartment in El Cerrito. She was currently listing it on airbnb.com, but he convinced her that she’d be better off renting it to me. I looked at the place . . . and it was too small. But still! How awesome that a friend thought of me and that I didn’t have to compete with 100 other people for it, something that seriously happens in the Bay Area?
Then on Wednesday, a friend posted on facebook that her neighbor was moving out of his one-bedroom apartment and was anyone interested in subletting from him? I’m not comfortable with subletting, but I think it’s important to follow through on opportunities when they present themselves. I walked up to the apartment – in Oakland, a place I didn’t want to live again – to find a quiet complex pulled back from the street, situated in such a way that there would be no neighbors above or below me because the ground floor is parking and there is no third floor, well-insulated, etc. I told my friend that I was interested but to check and see how much the landlords would raise the rent for a new tenant.
The landlords wanted to raise the rent by $200 a month, but because I’m a friend of their current tenant, they agreed to $100 instead, which is the max I can pay. I filled out an application and the first time I met the landlords was when I was SIGNING THE LEASE. No advertising on craigslist, no meeting me, and just like that, I have an apartment that while not perfect, seems like it will meet my needs. It even has laundry onsite, which for the rent I’m paying is practically unheard of in this market. Oh and I have my own garage, which is even more unheard of.
It may not sound like all of this is impossible, but that’s kind of the point. How many things do we think are impossible that are actually plausible? How many times are we certain something won’t happen to us when it might, or it does? I won’t say that I “made” the impossible possible, but I will say the universe is infinite and creative and perhaps there are more things existing in the realm of reason than we think.
I dream of a world where we realize impossible things are happening every day. A world where we realize there are more potentials than we give the universe credit for. A world where we allow for more magic and mystery in our lives.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This is a repost from December 2010.
Life can be so dramatic can’t it? I may get caught up in the circumstances of life – of freaking out about spraining my ankle, getting laid off, tumultuous relationships, even death – but ultimately everything is an expression of an infinite loving consciousness. All of it is God, Brahma, Love, my Higher Power. When I remember that I stop falling for illusions.
In Sanskrit, there is a word maya that means just that – illusion. More deeply, maya means all the worldly trappings that distract us. That’s not to say the worldly trappings don’t exist, but really they are like shadows on the wall. They exist but we’re not seeing their true form.
Sometimes I get caught up in the “shadows” (aka, life stuff) and forget to focus on what’s making the shadow.
I skimmed through one of my favorite books, A Return to Love looking for a quote to fit in with this blogpost and I came across, “Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.” The shadows may dance on the wall, but the hand that creates them remains unperturbed.
This post is my effort to return to love. To remind myself what is real. Is it the pain in my ankle? Is it my financial situation? No. They are merely shadows on the wall. The real reality is my higher power, the infinite loving consciousness. My ego likes to pretend otherwise, likes to enjoy the sound and the fury of life, if you will, because that’s the only way my ego will survive.
In truth, I am peace, I am love, I am divine. In truth, all is well, all always was well, all will always be well. No matter the circumstance I go through, no matter the upset, no matter the drama, it’s just noise. The hand creating the shadow is at peace. My soul, my essence remains untouched. Because ultimately love is all there is.
It’s easy to forget and disregard that notion. That everything is an expression of the divine. Especially when life is super dramatic. Except, that’s when I need to pause the most. That’s when I need to jerk my head away from the shadows dancing before me and remind myself where they’re coming from.
I dream of a world where we disengage from the ego’s drama. A world where we bisect the trouble and get to the heart of the matter, which is love is all there is. Even among the violence and upheaval, love is there. Love will always be there. Love always was there. I dream of a world where we know that and feel that and return to that. A world where we focus on the hand creating the shadow rather than the shadow itself.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m a coughing frog today so that’s why there’s no recording.
So often all I’m doing is marking time. Each day becomes about small tasks to check off my to-do list: work, laundry, grocery shopping, etc. It’s not frequent that I take a step back and assess how far I’ve come. I know it’s funny for me to say that because every birthday and holiday I’m assessing how I’m different from the year prior, but today is special because today is a huge anniversary.
On this day 10 years ago, I landed in London where I would be studying abroad for the next four and a half months. I was excited, nervous, sad. I trundled my black suitcase up Queen’s Gate with a guy from my feature articles writing class, stopping cab drivers asking them where our building was.
This is me, circa 2005, reading stuff in the British Library. Seemed appropriate for the title of this post. Sorry for the terrible quality.
I knew everything and I knew nothing. My world was topsy-turvy. It may not seem like much, but this 10-year anniversary is getting to me because a lot has happened internally and externally since then. I’m getting a glimpse into the past and a cure for the amnesia where I think the way life is now is the way it always was.
At 20, I was a raw nerve, a copper wire without the insulation. I felt everything so deeply and intensely that the only way I could cope was through food and fantasizing about the future; two practices I’m no longer engaging in. When it comes down to it, my study abroad experience helped shape me into the adult I am in ways I never could have anticipated.
Living in London I worked for a website that reviewed restaurants. They encouraged me to plagiarize, and being the upstanding journalist that I am, could not handle that. I called in reinforcements (aka, my mom) to try to switch to something else to no avail. The internship people basically told me and my mother to suck it up and deal with it. It was that experience that ignited my fire and gave me compassion for others in similar, helpless situations. It showed me what mattered to me and how no, I can’t work for just anyone, that some things are more important than money or internship credits.
I am really sick today, like, why-am-I-out-of-bed sick, so I apologize if this post is terrible. Mostly what I’m getting at is anniversaries are important times for reflection. To pat ourselves on the back for what we’ve done and to ask ourselves, “Do I like where I’m heading and who I’m becoming?” Life is about so much more than marking time or accumulating wealth. Today as I flipped through pictures all I could think was, “Why did I take so many pictures of buildings? Where are all the people?”
As I’m heading into a new decade I think that’s a great reminder because 10 years on I don’t care that I went to Notre Dame or visited Big Ben. I want to see pictures of friends and reminisce about that time we climbed statues in Trafalgar Square or we goofed off in Hyde Park. Seeing places is great and all, but I want to do more than mark time; I want to bond with those around me, to love and be loved.
I dream of a world where we take a break to assess our lives every once and a while. A period to check in on ourselves and determine if we like what we see. A world where we give and receive love. A world where we’re doing more than just marking time.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.