I am a compulsive doer. It’s hard for me to sit still. I jokingly say I developed maladaptive stress syndrome because I burned out my adrenal glands from doing too much. But maybe it’s not a joke. It should come as no surprise then that I search far and wide for solutions to my problems. I devour every book, every method, every suggestion with frenetic fervor hoping this, this will be the answer. Thus far, the answer has not presented itself. There is nothing worse than telling a compulsive doer there is nothing to be done.
On Wednesday, I went to the doctor again as a Hail Mary. I haven’t had diagnostic tests done for several years so I figured why not? I cried and later laughed as she threw out suggestion after suggestion of things I’ve already tried. In addition, the bevvy of diagnostic tests all came back normal. It has become clear to me this is the end of the road. There is literally nothing left to do because everything has already been done.
I asked myself, knowing I have tried everything, can I finally accept my reality? Can I finally accept things as they are? After many tears, the answer is yes. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders because I no longer need to do anything. All the solutions have been tried. All that I’m left with is acceptance.
Sometimes the answer is counterintuitive, like an oasis in a desert.
Not knowing what I’ve been going through, a friend sent me a podcast from Invisibilia called “The Problem with the Solution.” In it, the show hosts talk about this very concept in the context of mental illness. They traveled to Geel, Belgium, where people with mental ailments live with families and are accepted just as they are. There is no stigma, the families don’t even know the diagnoses. Mental illness is accepted just as it is, and wouldn’t you know it, counterintuitively, people thrive in Geel. That’s not to say the diagnosis vanishes, but it improves.
In the U.S., we are obsessed with solutions. We believe if we look long enough and hard enough, the solution will present itself. But what if it doesn’t? What if there is no solution? What if the solution is accepting things as they are, right now? Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not suggesting people become doormats or tolerate injustice or give up on trying in general, but for the things which we keep trying to fix and are unable to, maybe those things require acceptance.
There’s a story in the Mahábhárata that comes to mind. When Duhshásana was pulling the sari of Draopadii, she was tightly holding the cloth to her body with one hand, beseeching lord Krśńa with the other. “Oh! My lord, save me!” But he didn’t come forward to save her. When Draopadii found no means of escape, she then released her hold on the cloth and appealed to the lord most piteously with both hands outstretched, saying, “O lord, I surrender my all to you. Do what you think is best.” And then the lord immediately rescued her.
I don’t offer that story as a means to get what we want, because surrender and acceptance has to be real, legitimate, and complete without thoughts of what we want, but the story reminds me that when I surrender, release, and let go, that’s when the divine has room to enter into my life.
I dream of a world where we accept the things we cannot change. A world where we understand there aren’t always solutions. A world where we realize instead of doing something, sometimes we need to do nothing.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
“Do not set your eyes on things far off.” – Pythian Odes
I’ve had at least four people mention to me some iteration of, “What are the gifts where you are?” so it seemed like a good post to write today.
I am deeply unhappy about a few things in my life. There are a few things I want to change and they aren’t changing fast enough, darnit. It’s easy for me to peer ahead, to fantasize about the future, and then get frustrated when the future is not my present reality. I’ve had so much resentment this week about that and accordingly, people keep asking me to practice gratitude for where I am.
Don’t peer too far ahead.
It didn’t go well because I don’t want to practice gratitude for where I am. I don’t want to see the gifts from my current situation. I’d much rather live in the imagined future where my dreams have come true, thank you very much. But here’s the icky thing: I’m not there. As much as I want to be, do, or have something else, that’s not this present moment. And because I don’t enjoy this present moment, it means my compulsions have kicked up. I keep checking facebook, email, and instagram to pull me from the here and now because I’m not enjoying the here and now.
As you can imagine, my compulsions haven’t solved anything either.
I experienced a shift when I asked myself, “What if I viewed this situation as temporary? What if I knew it would end?” Somehow that made all the difference. For me, whatever I’m experiencing now, I think I’ll experience forever. It’s hard for me to keep in mind this too shall pass, and it’s the notion there isn’t an endpoint that causes me so much distress. When I know there’s an endpoint though, everything becomes more bearable. And when I know there’s an endpoint, I can start to see the gifts of my current situation. I view things differently and understand this is a period where I’m being given the opportunity to cultivate whatever, fill in the blank, and I get myself back to a place of gratitude.
I know this is a vague post but that’s because I’m not ready to discuss the specifics in a public forum, but I think the lesson is a good one. How often do we view our present situation as interminable? How often do we think the way things are will be the way things continue? It’s helpful for me not to say to myself, “This too shall pass,” because, great, glad to know maybe when I’m 95 this will pass, but instead to affirm this has an endpoint because it does. When I know there’s an endpoint, I can quit asking, “When will this be over?” Staying present can be difficult sometimes, but maybe if we knew there will be an end, staying present would be easier.
I dream of a world where we’re able to focus on the here and now, even if we don’t like it. A world where we understand all things are temporary. A world where we do our best to stay present because we understand each experience or period has something for us to mine.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m in rough shape today as I’m recovering from a 48-hour bug, so here is a post I tweaked from July 2011.
I want all of my feelings to be in agreement. I want to be either happy or sad – not both. Particularly not both about a single event.
Until yesterday, I was in Washington, D.C. for a wedding, which I decided to turn into a long weekend trip. I love Washington, D.C. I went to school there, I became an adult there, one of my favorite places on Earth is there. Yet, I live in California and I love California. I love the weather, I love my friends, I love my apartment, my life, my community.
I felt (and feel) sad about leaving the district because not only are my favorite places there, but also some dear friends. My heart is heavy because I don’t know when I’ll see them again. Washington, D.C. is a special place for me because I don’t have one or two good friends who live there, I have about a dozen. It’s hard to leave such a large and deep pocket of love and kinship. I was sad to leave but happy to come home. A part of me wants to pick a side, to say I’m either sad to leave D.C. or happy to come back to California. But that’s not true. I honestly feel both.
Life is colorful.
What I’m learning is my feelings are complex and multifaceted so that means I can feel both. I don’t have to pick a side. I don’t have to move back to D.C. because I miss living there. I don’t have to abandon my life in the Bay Area. I don’t have to do anything really except feel what I’m feeling. Allow myself to experience both happiness and sadness, yes, even at the same time.
My life these days is no longer black and white, it’s technicolor. I am an unlimited being so I don’t have to restrict myself to feeling one way or another. Perhaps that’s what it means to be an adult, recognizing there are numerous feelings and life isn’t as simple as I thought it was. I can feel both. I can love multiple people, places, and things, and nothing has to replace anything else. I can have multiple favorites.
I wish everything was cut and dry because life would be so much simpler that way, but in truth, it’s not. So that’s what I’m encouraging: to embrace life as it is, in all its technicolor glory.
I dream of a world where contradicting feelings may coexist. A world where we allow for all possibilities and situations without trying to force ourselves to feel one way or another. A world where we accept our complexity and our depth. A world where we know one thing does not have to preclude the other.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For better or for worse, I take responsibility for everything in my life. Poor? That’s my doing. Single? My fault. Sick? That’s on me. That’s the message we receive over and over in our society; that we’re the master of our fate and the captain of our soul. However, I’m reminded, again, that’s not entirely true.
One of my friends has been heartbroken over and over again. He mentioned it to a psychic and the psychic said my friend is repeatedly getting his heart broken because in a past life he was an abuser of women, and in this life, being on the receiving end of heartbreak is his retribution. The karma is being balanced, if you will. Furthermore, the psychic said my friend’s current beau was one of those abused women in a past life, which explains so much about their relationship dynamic. The beau is very timid around my friend, walking on eggshells, and learning how to reclaim her power in the relationship. The two were thrown together in this life because they have some unfinished business.
This? I’m not responsible for.
When my friend told me this story, I felt such relief because I’m reminded I am not to blame for everything in my life. That there are forces at work in my life and everyone else’s life that I haven’t thought about or even begun to understand. It’s like dominoes — one falling domino sets off a chain reaction, but the reaction may not manifest until down the road. Things I’ve done in past lives are still affecting me now. It’s a law of nature that for every action there will be a reaction, and knowing that I feel relief.
Maybe I’m single not because I choose the wrong men or am too picky or a leper, or any other reason I could come up with that points the finger at me. Maybe I’m single for reasons I haven’t even entertained, like things I did in a past life. Similarly, maybe I’m not a world-renowned inspirational speaker for the same reasons. Maybe all of it has absolutely nothing to do with me and instead I’m undergoing reactions for things I did in the distant past.
Instead of thinking of myself as the master of my fate, maybe it’s better to think of myself as a musician. Right now I’m like the first violinist who has her sheet music but is forgetting there are other musicians in the orchestra, and furthermore that there’s a conductor overseeing the whole piece. I like to think of myself as the conductor, but I’m not, I’m the violinist.
I am extremely tired so I don’t know if I’m getting my point across, but what I’m trying to say here is we aren’t in control of every aspect of our lives. We aren’t to blame for every crappy thing that happens to us, nor are we to blame for every good thing that happens to us. There is something else present, and that presence is God or higher power or whatever term you have for it. For better or for worse, we are not alone and we are not in charge.
I dream of a world where we remember higher power is present in all things and situations. A world where we realize we are not in control of everything nor are we to blame for everything. A world where we take ourselves off the hook and remember we are not the conductor of this orchestra, but rather we are the musicians.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Monday, I woke up feeling gross. In physical pain, emotionally drained, tired, and just generally cranky. I wished more than anything that I wasn’t in a physical body. Being a spirit, or angel, or something without form, sounded great. No pain! Just bliss! Alas, that’s not true.
Many years ago, a good friend told me there are only two positions for the feelings switch: on or off. That means either I’m numbed out to everything – joy, sorrow, anger, pain – or I have to feel everything. I can’t pick and choose which emotions I may feel. And that means some days I want to be over as quickly as possible.
If we’re not physical, we can’t enjoy things like skateboarding.
The idea of being a free-floating spirit is so tantalizing though! Would I be in bliss all day long? Would it be a non-stop pleasure fest? No, no it would not because a body is necessary to feel anything at all. And when I’m having a terrible day where I’m in physical pain and everything sucks, of course I don’t want to feel anything. But as my friend reminds me, feeling nothing means I also shut out the good things. The exhilaration of a roller coaster. The joy of spending time with a good friend. The peace of a gorgeous sunset. Without nerve fibers, there is . . . nothing so I must be physical.
I want to be happy all the time. I want to feel good all the time. We live in a society where we’re told if we’re not happy, something is wrong and we need to fix it. Start using affirmations or keep a gratitude journal, or quit a job, dump that boyfriend, go on that vacation. Most people are selling the five keys to happiness, but what if there’s nothing wrong with feeling icky? What if that’s what it means to be human?
We are caught in a pleasure/pain cycle but that’s normal. My spiritual teacher says over and over again that a human body is necessary for meditation and to achieve the ultimate union I seek. That to me means being physical is essential. There are no shortcuts. I don’t get to dance with the divine unless I’m inhabiting a human form. That means feeling sad and angry and disheartened. It also means feeling happy and peaceful and inspired. I don’t get to have some but not others.
I dream of a world where we remember being human means feeling pleasure and pain. A world where we remember we can’t feel good all of the time. A world where we realize while the idea of being non-physical sounds appealing, to experience what we’re really after, a human body is required.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Christmas Eve, I sat around the table with my parents and learned more about where I come from. Not just about their childhoods, but my grandparents’ too. I heard about great-uncles I didn’t know I had, twins I didn’t know existed. The more I heard, the more my eyes started to bug out and a wave of immense gratitude washed over me.
One of the most important things I learned that night is addiction runs deep in my family. Generation after generation, relative after relative. Stories of an alcoholic relation dying after falling down the stairs drunk; a morbidly obese great-grandparent. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about the common thread running through my family’s past. Holy guacamole. It’s a big deal that I’m in recovery for addiction. I’m turning the tide of addiction and dysfunction despite the weight of history pulling me in a different direction. I am a walking miracle.
I’m going to pretend these are sea anemones.
My friend and neighbor told me a few weeks ago there is often one person in the family who helps heal everyone else. I knew that was me, but didn’t understand how to fulfill that role. After hearing about my family’s history, I understand I’m leading the family in a new direction just by being me. By having the willingness to do something new, to sail uncharted waters. Here I was thinking I got into recovery programs and therapy just so I could live happier and more sanely, and that’s true, but recovery is also so much bigger than me. As soon as one person stops the cycle of addiction and dysfunction by working on themselves in a concerted way, addiction and dysfunction stops. I’m doing something for my family that others could not and that makes me a miracle.
I know this post is about me personally, and my family, but I want to emphasize I am not the only miracle. Everyone is a miracle.
My spiritual teacher says repeatedly that human life is rare and precious. I’ve never understood that. How can human life be rare and precious when there are 7 billion of us? How rare and precious can it be? When I discussed this with my dear friend, he reminded me when we take into account all the other lives — the plants, the animals, the bacteria even — human life really is rare and precious. I think of human life as being expendable much of the time, but when I contemplate there are probably 7 billion bacteria on my pinky finger alone, whoa, being a human really is a miracle.
I think of miracles as walking on water, turning water into wine, or somehow accomplishing the impossible, but really, miracles are so much smaller than that. It’s a miracle that I’m in recovery. It’s a miracle that we’re alive today. It’s a miracle that the impossible can became probable.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are miracles. A world where we practice gratitude for the changes we’re undergoing. A world where we understand miracles aren’t necessarily huge feats, they are also small triumphs.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I live in a very transient area. People move here and move away all the time. It’s one of the most painful aspects of living here, especially for a person like me who clings to people like a barnacle. “Don’t leave me! Stay!” Except, the thing is, even if a person is physically present, it doesn’t mean they’re emotionally present, or that they’ll be emotionally present all the time. Well crap. What’s a person to do?
I’m going to pass on a secret: Be there for yourself. Counter to all the messages we’re being fed, the solution to fears of abandonment is not to find that one perfect person to spend the rest of our life with. The solution is to give that to ourselves. To say to myself, “Rebekah, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I’m not ever going anywhere. I’ll stay.” People, and pets for that matter, come into and out of our lives, but the two constant presences are ourselves and the Supreme. My spiritual teacher says God is our one true friend, our constant, forever companion. But how often are we nurturing these relationships? How often are we instead taking them for granted?
Won’t you stay? Oh, I have to stay for me? Oh, right.
One of the most powerful messages I’ve gleaned from being in recovery is that I’m in a relationship with my Higher Power. That God is not Santa Claus, rewarding me when I’m good and punishing me when I’m bad. And that just like any other relationship, we need to spend time together to improve it. We need to communicate with one another, to talk and to listen. It’s easy to neglect the relationship because it’s always there, to take it for granted, but I’m reminded again, it’s one of the most important relationships in my life.
The other most important relationship in my life is the one with me. Am I here for me? Am I taking care of me? Am I treating myself like a friend? Saying nice things to myself, encouraging myself, forgiving myself for mistakes? My inclination is to turn outward, to focus on outside relationships, other people, what they’re doing, what they’re saying, how they feel. My meditation practice, however, is about turning inward, asking instead what am I doing, what am I saying, how do I feel?
A few weeks ago I went to a group meditation and I’m the only one that showed up. I know, that sounds weird because if no one showed up then it was solo meditation, but the intention was to meditate with others. I felt so awkward, sitting in a space that belongs to a friend, meditating alone when usually I’m surrounded by others. But then the awkwardness faded as I felt the presence of my Higher Power, and the presence of me. Instead of being by myself, I was with myself. No longer did I feel alone because I had me and I had my Higher Power. It was one of the sweetest meditations I’ve experienced for awhile. So in answer to the question, “Won’t you stay?” the answer is yes, Rebekah, I will.
I dream of a world where we develop the relationships with ourselves and with the divine. A world where we feel the presence of us and something greater than us. A world where we remember we are never alone because we have our one true companion by our side.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
This whole week the concept of bit by bit, of doing things in small chunks, has been on my mind because I’m again in the midst of packing, so I’m reposting this blog from about a year ago.
I’m sitting in my cottage surrounded by boxes — although not as many as last week! — and what I want is to unpack everything now. I want to be settled now. I want all the organizing to be done now. I want my big payday right this minute, not little by little.
I quite often forget this concept of bit by bit, baby steps, slow and steady wins the race, etc. because I’m attracted by the big and bold, by pomp and circumstance. I love hearing about seemingly overnight success and Cinderella stories because, well, I’m impatient.
Bit by bit adds up to something grand.
Bit by bit is important for me to remember because more often it’s the case someone is wealthy because they know how to save — they sock away money a little bit here, a little bit there. More often it’s the case an actor has been auditioning for years before they become an “overnight” success. Truly it’s the baby steps, the hard work along the way that builds up to something great. Rome wasn’t built in a day and nor will my cottage be unpacked in a day. I want to be a best-selling author this minute, but when I focus on the big goal I forget about selling one book at a time to one person at a time.
For someone like me who’s melodramatic and makes big drastic changes quite frequently, doing something bit by bit is crucial. When I look at all the things that have stuck with me — my meditation practice, my yoga practice, my recovery from addiction — it’s because I did things little by little. They’ve become permanent fixtures in my life because I took action every single day — not because I made one grand sweeping gesture. Sure, the grand gestures are fun and exciting, but it’s the little actions everyday that have made the most lasting impact.
I don’t know that anyone else will get anything out of this blogpost, but I guess I’m saying for today I realize there is value in the small things. In doing things one day at a time, bit by bit. Yes, I’m impressed by vast canyons, but that’s because I’m seeing the end results — many canyons are created by water wearing down rock little by little, day by day. Bit by bit adds up to something beautiful and grand, and right now is the time for me to practice that, knowing eventually I’ll see the results I’m looking for.
I dream of a world where we value doing something bit by bit. A world where we understand constant and steady pressure adds up to something amazing. A world where we have patience with ourselves and each other. A world where we cherish our baby steps.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
I want to be happy all the time. I don’t think I’m alone in this. What I’m noticing lately is whenever I’m scared or anxious I turn into Judgey McJudgerson and tell myself it’s bad to feel what I’m feeling. I make myself feel worse because I tell myself it’s stupid for me to startle at every noise or to have a fear of driving. Mostly I tell myself I shouldn’t feel the way I do.
Even if I don’t explicitly tell myself I shouldn’t feel scared or anxious or unhappy, I do so tacitly whenever I try to change my feelings. When I use affirmations, yoga, meditation, tapping, self-talk, going to my happy place, etc. I’m not saying these are bad tools, they’ve been very helpful, but this week I’ve been trying something new, which is to let myself be. To let the anxiety spring up without judging it, without trying to change it. Just noticing it and seeing what happens.
Let it be! I’m not sure why this image says “let it be” to me but it does. Image by James Douglas.
Ever since I was hit by a car in November, I’ve felt a little panicky every time I cross the street. My heart starts to race and I have to psyche myself up, triple checking where the cars are to ensure my safety. When I’ve tried something different, i.e. neutrality and self-compassion, I’ve noticed my fear of crossing the street has abated.
I don’t know this will work all the time, but it’s a bit of a relief to not try so hard to feel a certain way. To not judge myself and criticize myself for feeling something I don’t perceive everyone else does (i.e. being afraid of crossing the street). When I treat myself with love and self-compassion, the anxiety doesn’t fight back nearly as strongly.
Why am I telling you this? Maybe you can relate. Maybe you try to coerce yourself into being happy all the time or believing that if you’re not it’s your fault. That you’re not thinking the right thoughts, or meditating enough, or affirming enough, or eating the right food. And while those things may be true, what’s also true is that you and I are human. We are made to experience emotions. We are made to experience highs and lows. It’s unrealistic to expect that I’ll be happy all the time, and placing that expectation upon myself only makes when I’m unhappy that much worse.
How much easier would it be if we let our emotions pass like petals floating down a stream? If we didn’t expect that we could control our emotions with such exactitude? If we practiced radical self-acceptance and were kinder and gentler to our internal selves? I, for one, am finding there are a lot of emotions I’ve buried beneath my anxiety, and I wonder if I excavate them and allow myself to feel them, if my anxiety will disappear.
I dream of a world where we don’t try to force ourselves to feel one way or another. A world where we practice neutrality and self-compassion instead of judgment for our inner selves. A world where we let ourselves be.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
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