All of my advice on making a big decision came from a person who didn’t have children. Now that I have a child, I can see how my decisions affect this new life that I’m responsible for, and let me tell you, it does complicate things. I don’t think my prior advice is invalid, but I feel like it doesn’t account for this feeling of responsibility for a child’s experiences and development.
So, as a giver of advice on decision making, it turns out I have been a huge hypocrite for nearly two years. For two years, I have been avoiding a decision about work and staying home with my son. I have been avoiding this decision by trying to do it all: I stay home and take care of him during the day, and I do my freelance work at naptime and at night, after he’s in bed.
When my workload isn’t that heavy, this feels totally manageable. I spend a few hours each day on work, and then get to bed at a reasonable hour, with enough time to talk to my husband and even read a bit.
But when things really get rolling, burnout approaches very, very quickly, and suddenly I’m cranky, tired and just feeling overwhelmed. Then, just when I think I can’t take any more and something has to give, work slows down and I feel like I can continue on.
But even when things slow down, I recognize that I am just avoiding a decision. For our family, day care isn’t the right choice. I intend to homeschool/unschool my son, so why would I send him to preschool? He is the most amazing person on the earth in my eyes, so I find it very hard to pay other people to spend time with him, when I feel like they should be paying me for the privilege of hanging out with him! (I’m only half-joking!)
Still, with much agonizing, I’ve decided to hire a babysitter to come to the house for a few hours in the morning, starting once a week, to see how it goes. The agony is not because I worry about him: The babysitter is also a mother, a smart cookie (she was homeschooled) and is very mature and responsible, not to mention the fact that she also practices attachment parenting, as I do.
The agony comes in because I perceive time in a very expanded way, which makes the day-to-day feel more weighty, I think. I often envision myself, twenty years from now, reminiscing about my son’s adorable little hands, his enthusiasm for his trains, the particular timbre of his little baby voice, and I know that I will be so pleased that I soaked up every moment. I recognize that this is a season of my life, and that it will pass, and I will one day have all the time in the world to do freelance writing, if that’s what I should choose.
But then there’s my desire to remain engaged in my work, as it is satisfying, it certainly is a help financially (though not absolutely critical to our survival) and it is something that if I give up now, I wonder if I’ll be able to pick up again. I also think there’s the matter of my son recognizing me as someone with an identity outside of mother and wife.
All of this swirls in my head at night until I’m so confused and exhausted that I just drop off to sleep.
The point is, I’m trying on a decision. I will see how taking a few hours to do work during the day and during his waking hours will be. I’ve already envisioned everything I can envision, and I am stumped. The intellectual process I’ve described can only go so far in certain instances, and this seems like one of them.
Now, I will have to experience the decision, and, more importantly, see how my son experiences the decision. If he’s happy and there are no ill effects, I can feel more comfortable with this decision. If, on the other hand, he seems moodier, clingier or is restless in his sleep, I’ll have to reconsider. (Same goes for me: If I am moodier, clingier or restless in my sleep, it may not be right for us.)
What allowed me to try on this decision was the realization that very few decisions (though there are some, and they are biggies!) are completely irrevocable or do irrevocable harm.
If this decision to hire a babysitter and get some more daytime hours for my work doesn't feel good after a real trial period, well, then, I’ll know which decision is the best one for me and my family. Likewise if it does feel good and me and my son and husband are happy and doing well.
It’s true that some decisions are easier to try on than others. Moving, for example, is more difficult than hiring a babysitter! Marriage is a decision, yes, but it is also (supposed to be) a lifelong commitment, and one I believe should not be approached with a “let’s see how it works out” attitude. So, there are some decisions that you can try on, and others that must be made with the intuition and leap of faith approach.
But, for those smaller decisions, or the big ones that lend themselves to a trial run, it’s so good to remember that you can take the step and see how it feels. And that it’s OK if you need to change your mind.
It’s also important to realize that, when you make a decision in good faith, there is no “wrong” decision. In any moment of deciding, you make the best decision you can at the moment you make it. Sometimes it turns out that you were missing crucial information about yourself or others, so you stop, take a deep breath, and reevaluate. And if it turns out that yes, this decision you’ve made isn’t working, you make a change and start on a new path.
Remember, your peace (and/or your child’s peace) is more important than protecting the ego that might be embarrassed at having made a human mistake.
If you are in the grips of paralyzing indecision, as I was, and you think you have a decision that is try-on-able, pick a path and start walking down it. You can always turn around and find your way back to where you are right now.
Peace to you,
Tiffany
p.s. I will update you all on how this decision I’ve made works for me and my family. Only the experience will settle this particular question for me, so we’ll see how it all goes!
Showing posts with label decisions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label decisions. Show all posts
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Primal Bliss (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying And Eat Like a Caveman)
In the months since my miscarriage, I’ve been thinking a lot about health. My health, my husband’s health, my son’s health, and my parents’ health.
My health, because of the miscarriage: Not because I think I was in terribly poor health, but because I want to be in optimum health for another pregnancy, and of course just because it’s a good idea.
My husband’s health, because of course I want him around for a long time, and because, in conjunction with me, we serve as health role models for our son.
My son’s health, because I want him to have a radiant and happy life.
My parents’ health, because my mother is, for the first time in her adult life, taking responsibility for it, and because my father is feeling so poorly that he, too, is looking at making major changes, or facing curtains.
I realize ever more what an illusion “medical care” is. I think that it is wonderful in emergencies, accidents and a very few diseases, and I’m grateful that it exists. But too many of us, myself included, have trusted in medicine’s ability to swoop in and take care of our problems. This isn’t entirely our fault, as most of us have been trained in this mentality from day one.
For a host of reasons, beginning with the shockingly bad and careless treatment I received in the area’s “best” hospital after my son’s birth, I have started my own quest for personal responsibility in health, mainly so I can be healthy and happy and avoid as many medical practitioners in my life as possible. (As it becomes abundantly clear, too, that the system is hopelessly broken, it is in our financial interest to practice personal responsibility in health, too.)
However, I’m not into quacks, charlatans and other health gurus. That’s just making the same mistake of entrusting your health to a different subset of people. So it’s not really a move into “alternative health” that I’m making, but rather an alternative approach to health.
What that leads me to is that I am considering evidence—all evidence—from credible, science-backed sources
and weaving that into a plan for what works for me and my family. I’m proceeding carefully and also radically into a mode of self-experimentation, starting with diet and fitness.
In short, I’m eating and exercising like a caveman.
Actually, after months of research, I’m following the majority of the advice behind the “Primal Blueprint” and a month in, I am shocked at how much better I feel (and look).
Before I go into what results I’ve gotten, I’ll just say that it’s a no-brainer that your health should be your biggest priority in life. If you are living in a way that shortchanges your health, short-term or long-term, you will have many obstacles on the path toward living your bliss, simply because so much of your time will be taken up with illness, discomfort or more serious problems. Trust me. I know how much time my dad spends at the doctor’s office. It’s mind-boggling.
And the thing is, I don’t think most people (my dad included) are lazy, have poor impulse control or are gluttonous overeaters. I think there is something wrong with the way we’ve been taught to go about fitness and diet and it is just not working, as evidenced by the chronic illness, obesity epidemic and even just people like me, who had minor, chronic ailments, despite doing everything “right.”
My troubles really began after my son’s birth. I had no problem losing the weight from pregnancy (which wasn’t much to begin with: about 25 pounds), but keeping my blood sugar stable has been a challenge for the last two years. I had a couple of hypoglycemia incidents that had me sick, nauseated and in bed feeling so bad that I contemplated going to the ER. Then the constant feeling of being run down. Granted, a newborn will do that to you, and since he didn’t sleep through the night until he was 15 months old, that had some hand in it, but I knew instinctively it wasn’t the whole story. Then, despite a regular walking/running exercise routine, yoga, “healthy” food and being hungry all the damn time, I realized I wasn’t heavy or overweight, but just puffy. If I was doing everything right, why wouldn’t I be in great shape?
I’m open to radical ideas; it’s just the way I am now. I listen to something, and apply my own analysis and do my own research to see if it’s credible or not. I am not interested anymore in “knowledge” that is received or common.
So I found the blog Mark’s Daily Apple linked from a favorite website and here I am.
I don’t eat any grains. None. No wheat, no rice, no corn, no oats – you get the picture. No refined sugars, either. I eat plenty of veggies. Lots of grass-fed, organic meats with lots of fat. Wild fish and shellfish. Pastured butter and organic heavy cream. Eggs. Nuts. Olives. Some cheese. Lots of coconut and coconut products. Fruits, some chocolate and some alcohol.
I follow the exercise advice, too: Move frequently at a slow pace. Lift heavy things. Sprint once in a while. That’s it.
In one week, I stopped being hungry all the time. Before, I couldn’t go two hours without a snack. Now, I could probably go from breakfast to dinner without eating if I wanted to. No more blood sugar crashes. No more foggy brain. Better sleep. Most of all, just so much more energy. My mood has improved, and I am happier and more even-keeled. I just feel better all around.
As if that weren’t enough, how I look has changed, too. My skin looks more radiant and is clearer than it has been in two years. (I actually got carded recently, which hadn’t happened since becoming a mama!) I think my hormones have balanced out, too, which helps with the skin issue. I’ve lost eight pounds, and my body fat percentage—immovable for years—has finally started declining. I can see muscles in my legs that I’ve never, ever seen in my life. My stomach is flatter, and my clothes just fit better.
I can’t wait to see what the next few months bring. I don’t expect that I’ll never ever eat another slice of cake or a piece of pizza, but I don’t plan on going back to the way I used to eat. If I should get pregnant again, I can add in some quinoa, sweet potatoes and other high-nutrition carbs to round things out. (Pun intended, ha ha.)
The point of this post is to share some anecdotal evidence with you, and challenge you to look at what advice you might be following regarding your health that you have never questioned or analyzed and see if there is room for changes that might improve your life.
Health--good or bad--is not permanent. I realize that simply because I have found a way of eating and living that is working for me does not mean I will never fall ill or get injured or what have you. But what it does mean is that I am comforted that I have found something that I can do, that I have taken responsibility for, and that the rest is out of my hands.
When I feel good and have my health and do daily work to maintain good health – that is part of the path toward a blissful existence. When I don’t feel good and have fallen ill or injured - that is the nature of being alive, so I will not agonize over it, but will do all I can to heal and feel my feelings and accept what is.
I wish radiant health and happiness to all of you.
Peace,
Tiffany
p.s. If any of you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them in the comments.
My health, because of the miscarriage: Not because I think I was in terribly poor health, but because I want to be in optimum health for another pregnancy, and of course just because it’s a good idea.
My husband’s health, because of course I want him around for a long time, and because, in conjunction with me, we serve as health role models for our son.
My son’s health, because I want him to have a radiant and happy life.
My parents’ health, because my mother is, for the first time in her adult life, taking responsibility for it, and because my father is feeling so poorly that he, too, is looking at making major changes, or facing curtains.
I realize ever more what an illusion “medical care” is. I think that it is wonderful in emergencies, accidents and a very few diseases, and I’m grateful that it exists. But too many of us, myself included, have trusted in medicine’s ability to swoop in and take care of our problems. This isn’t entirely our fault, as most of us have been trained in this mentality from day one.
For a host of reasons, beginning with the shockingly bad and careless treatment I received in the area’s “best” hospital after my son’s birth, I have started my own quest for personal responsibility in health, mainly so I can be healthy and happy and avoid as many medical practitioners in my life as possible. (As it becomes abundantly clear, too, that the system is hopelessly broken, it is in our financial interest to practice personal responsibility in health, too.)
However, I’m not into quacks, charlatans and other health gurus. That’s just making the same mistake of entrusting your health to a different subset of people. So it’s not really a move into “alternative health” that I’m making, but rather an alternative approach to health.
What that leads me to is that I am considering evidence—all evidence—from credible, science-backed sources
and weaving that into a plan for what works for me and my family. I’m proceeding carefully and also radically into a mode of self-experimentation, starting with diet and fitness.In short, I’m eating and exercising like a caveman.
Actually, after months of research, I’m following the majority of the advice behind the “Primal Blueprint” and a month in, I am shocked at how much better I feel (and look).
Before I go into what results I’ve gotten, I’ll just say that it’s a no-brainer that your health should be your biggest priority in life. If you are living in a way that shortchanges your health, short-term or long-term, you will have many obstacles on the path toward living your bliss, simply because so much of your time will be taken up with illness, discomfort or more serious problems. Trust me. I know how much time my dad spends at the doctor’s office. It’s mind-boggling.
And the thing is, I don’t think most people (my dad included) are lazy, have poor impulse control or are gluttonous overeaters. I think there is something wrong with the way we’ve been taught to go about fitness and diet and it is just not working, as evidenced by the chronic illness, obesity epidemic and even just people like me, who had minor, chronic ailments, despite doing everything “right.”
My troubles really began after my son’s birth. I had no problem losing the weight from pregnancy (which wasn’t much to begin with: about 25 pounds), but keeping my blood sugar stable has been a challenge for the last two years. I had a couple of hypoglycemia incidents that had me sick, nauseated and in bed feeling so bad that I contemplated going to the ER. Then the constant feeling of being run down. Granted, a newborn will do that to you, and since he didn’t sleep through the night until he was 15 months old, that had some hand in it, but I knew instinctively it wasn’t the whole story. Then, despite a regular walking/running exercise routine, yoga, “healthy” food and being hungry all the damn time, I realized I wasn’t heavy or overweight, but just puffy. If I was doing everything right, why wouldn’t I be in great shape?
I’m open to radical ideas; it’s just the way I am now. I listen to something, and apply my own analysis and do my own research to see if it’s credible or not. I am not interested anymore in “knowledge” that is received or common.
So I found the blog Mark’s Daily Apple linked from a favorite website and here I am.
I don’t eat any grains. None. No wheat, no rice, no corn, no oats – you get the picture. No refined sugars, either. I eat plenty of veggies. Lots of grass-fed, organic meats with lots of fat. Wild fish and shellfish. Pastured butter and organic heavy cream. Eggs. Nuts. Olives. Some cheese. Lots of coconut and coconut products. Fruits, some chocolate and some alcohol.
I follow the exercise advice, too: Move frequently at a slow pace. Lift heavy things. Sprint once in a while. That’s it.
In one week, I stopped being hungry all the time. Before, I couldn’t go two hours without a snack. Now, I could probably go from breakfast to dinner without eating if I wanted to. No more blood sugar crashes. No more foggy brain. Better sleep. Most of all, just so much more energy. My mood has improved, and I am happier and more even-keeled. I just feel better all around.
As if that weren’t enough, how I look has changed, too. My skin looks more radiant and is clearer than it has been in two years. (I actually got carded recently, which hadn’t happened since becoming a mama!) I think my hormones have balanced out, too, which helps with the skin issue. I’ve lost eight pounds, and my body fat percentage—immovable for years—has finally started declining. I can see muscles in my legs that I’ve never, ever seen in my life. My stomach is flatter, and my clothes just fit better.
I can’t wait to see what the next few months bring. I don’t expect that I’ll never ever eat another slice of cake or a piece of pizza, but I don’t plan on going back to the way I used to eat. If I should get pregnant again, I can add in some quinoa, sweet potatoes and other high-nutrition carbs to round things out. (Pun intended, ha ha.)
The point of this post is to share some anecdotal evidence with you, and challenge you to look at what advice you might be following regarding your health that you have never questioned or analyzed and see if there is room for changes that might improve your life.
Health--good or bad--is not permanent. I realize that simply because I have found a way of eating and living that is working for me does not mean I will never fall ill or get injured or what have you. But what it does mean is that I am comforted that I have found something that I can do, that I have taken responsibility for, and that the rest is out of my hands.
When I feel good and have my health and do daily work to maintain good health – that is part of the path toward a blissful existence. When I don’t feel good and have fallen ill or injured - that is the nature of being alive, so I will not agonize over it, but will do all I can to heal and feel my feelings and accept what is.
I wish radiant health and happiness to all of you.
Peace,
Tiffany
p.s. If any of you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them in the comments.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
How to Have a Flash of Insight
I had this post basically prepared before the thing I don't yet want to write about happened, so I figured I'd publish it now and give you something to ponder while I'm on hiatus. Hope you enjoy it.
After reading over my last post and contemplating Ariane's great comment, I realize I was only half-right about the need for an introspective process as you work toward finding your bliss. Introspection alone will only get you about halfway to where you need to be. To break through the ruts and habits of what you think you know, you need the sudden flash of insight, and getting there cannot be done by your rational, intellectual mind.
I'm a big fan of the show House, wherein a brilliant diagnostician (whose character is based on Sherlock Holmes) solves baffling medical cases. But if you know the show, despite House being an ardent believer in reason, intellect and logic above all else, those tools rarely (if ever) solve the mystery. Usually he's talking to his best friend Wilson, or goofing around with some prank when he discovers the missing piece of the puzzle that allows him to finally make the correct diagnosis and save his patient's life.
Of course, it's a great irony -- in this man devoted to logic and intellect -- that it would be his subconscious that does the really heavy lifting. This is one of his character's tragic flaws--one that prevents him from having healthy relationships. In privileging reason above all else, he denigrates the subconscious and all its associates (insight, emotion, spirituality, etc.), never making the connection that this is his most vital asset as both a diagnostician and a human being.
So what I'm saying is: Don't be like House.
I know that introspection and analysis alone can't get you to bliss because it is true in art and it has been true in my own life. Of course, like House, I often forget this, and the more intractable a problem becomes, the more stubbornly I set my rational mind to solve it. This rarely, if ever, works.
I'm kind of laughing at myself, because as big a fan I am of mythology's power and Joseph Campbell, you'd think I would remember this truth and apply it in my own life. But, if you are smart, and your brain has gotten you good places before (good grades, into a good school, accolades at work, etc.) you can easily be deluded into thinking it has ALL the answers.
What most people (myself included) often forget is that your brain can also get you into as many bad places as it can good ones. This isn't a given, but people can rationalize the worst behavior in the world, truly deluding themselves into thinking that what they are doing is clearly justified.
As Steve Ross says in "Happy Yoga", thinking is addictive. And, like any addiction, when thinking reaches this compulsive level, it's not good for you.
All of my most significant epiphanies, my most life-changing realizations, have happened when I have given my brain time off--when I'm dreaming, daydreaming, meditating, creating art or engaging with art or just playing in the true sense of the word--allowing for spontaneity and creativity and surprise and not indulging a rational process.
Lately I've been feeling burned out. Trying to keep up with a very alert, active and engaged 17 month old all day, a house in a constant march toward disarray (the forces of entropy are much stronger in a house containing a toddler!) and a part-time freelance career--not to mention relationships, friendships, administrative tasks, cooking/eating and my own health and creative life--well, I've just been feeling tapped out.
Usually, when my baby naps or goes down for the night, I get on the computer and catch up on work, email and other tasks, getting sucked into the news or Facebook or other useless distractions. This week, I just couldn't. I used the time to read a book, daydream, even just sit and breathe deeply and notice how I felt. Last night, while watching the movie "The Fighter," I solved a mystery that I've been trying to solve basically my entire life. Suffice it to say, it's about my family of origin and the dynamics of it, but suddenly, all the pieces clicked and a lifetime of non-understanding melted away. It was truly a sudden flash of insight.
So without further ado, this is how I think you can allow both your brain and your subconscious to help you have important insights of your own.
In a sense, all this boils down to giving yourself permission to play and be free of your worries for a while. Permission to be present and enjoy whatever is happening now. If a flash of insight decides to make a visit, so much the better, but even if it doesn't, well, at least you get to have some fun.
After reading over my last post and contemplating Ariane's great comment, I realize I was only half-right about the need for an introspective process as you work toward finding your bliss. Introspection alone will only get you about halfway to where you need to be. To break through the ruts and habits of what you think you know, you need the sudden flash of insight, and getting there cannot be done by your rational, intellectual mind.
I'm a big fan of the show House, wherein a brilliant diagnostician (whose character is based on Sherlock Holmes) solves baffling medical cases. But if you know the show, despite House being an ardent believer in reason, intellect and logic above all else, those tools rarely (if ever) solve the mystery. Usually he's talking to his best friend Wilson, or goofing around with some prank when he discovers the missing piece of the puzzle that allows him to finally make the correct diagnosis and save his patient's life.
Of course, it's a great irony -- in this man devoted to logic and intellect -- that it would be his subconscious that does the really heavy lifting. This is one of his character's tragic flaws--one that prevents him from having healthy relationships. In privileging reason above all else, he denigrates the subconscious and all its associates (insight, emotion, spirituality, etc.), never making the connection that this is his most vital asset as both a diagnostician and a human being.
So what I'm saying is: Don't be like House.
I know that introspection and analysis alone can't get you to bliss because it is true in art and it has been true in my own life. Of course, like House, I often forget this, and the more intractable a problem becomes, the more stubbornly I set my rational mind to solve it. This rarely, if ever, works.
I'm kind of laughing at myself, because as big a fan I am of mythology's power and Joseph Campbell, you'd think I would remember this truth and apply it in my own life. But, if you are smart, and your brain has gotten you good places before (good grades, into a good school, accolades at work, etc.) you can easily be deluded into thinking it has ALL the answers.
What most people (myself included) often forget is that your brain can also get you into as many bad places as it can good ones. This isn't a given, but people can rationalize the worst behavior in the world, truly deluding themselves into thinking that what they are doing is clearly justified.
As Steve Ross says in "Happy Yoga", thinking is addictive. And, like any addiction, when thinking reaches this compulsive level, it's not good for you.
All of my most significant epiphanies, my most life-changing realizations, have happened when I have given my brain time off--when I'm dreaming, daydreaming, meditating, creating art or engaging with art or just playing in the true sense of the word--allowing for spontaneity and creativity and surprise and not indulging a rational process.
Lately I've been feeling burned out. Trying to keep up with a very alert, active and engaged 17 month old all day, a house in a constant march toward disarray (the forces of entropy are much stronger in a house containing a toddler!) and a part-time freelance career--not to mention relationships, friendships, administrative tasks, cooking/eating and my own health and creative life--well, I've just been feeling tapped out.
Usually, when my baby naps or goes down for the night, I get on the computer and catch up on work, email and other tasks, getting sucked into the news or Facebook or other useless distractions. This week, I just couldn't. I used the time to read a book, daydream, even just sit and breathe deeply and notice how I felt. Last night, while watching the movie "The Fighter," I solved a mystery that I've been trying to solve basically my entire life. Suffice it to say, it's about my family of origin and the dynamics of it, but suddenly, all the pieces clicked and a lifetime of non-understanding melted away. It was truly a sudden flash of insight.
So without further ado, this is how I think you can allow both your brain and your subconscious to help you have important insights of your own.
- Write down all the things that you think you need to do. Get the to-do list out of your mind and onto paper or a smartphone or someplace you can access readily. If you feel like your mind doesn't have to remember the daily tasks (grocery shopping, paying bills, laundry) and the bigger tasks (birthdays, taxes, deadlines for work or school, etc.) you will free your brain of that clutter.
- Do your daily work efficiently. Whether this is for a job, or school or work in the home, try your best not to get distracted by time sucks like Facebook or annoying, unproductive phone calls or surfing news sites. The only exception is when you find a site that you really get something out of. For me, that's Arts & Letters Daily. It's a site that fuels my imagination and my intellect with articles that are mostly the equivalent of a gourmet meal. In other words, cut out the junk. By doing this, you are more productive and can set aside greater chunks of time for the next step.
- Unplug your rational, productive, practical mind. How to do this? First, take a deep, full breath, all the way down to your belly button. OK. Now, there are many paths that help you unplug. Yoga works well for me, but so does visiting a museum or gallery, or reading a novel or watching a really good movie. (Again, popcorn movies are fine here and there, but they don't feed your subconscious in the same way movies with convincing characters and authentic narrative do. You're letting your subconscious chew on art, which leads it to play in the realm of dreams and myths and archetypes, which helps it to make connections to your own life.) Or, go for a walk, jog or bike ride. (Without your iPod!) Lie down on a blanket and watch the clouds go by. Play games or do puzzles, but without attachment and intention. Just to see what happens. Become a detached observer. And whatever you do, remember to breathe deeply and fully. Sometimes, the answer is to sleep. Not just to have dreams, though those can be great aids to the flash of insight (or can be the insight themselves), but also, you simply can't relax and maintain alert awareness when you're exhausted and feeling unwell.
- Be patient. Like anything we can't control, the subconscious will deliver your flash of insight when it's damn good and ready. You can't force it, or rush it. If anything, you can only create the conditions that are favorable to having insights. So, if you catch yourself thinking, "OK, I went to yoga this morning, and then I took a walk, and then I watched the clouds for thirty minutes, so why haven't I figured anything out?", then you are back to compulsively thinking again. Breathe, let those thoughts go, and try again. The beauty of meditative work and play is that the more you practice it, the more natural it becomes, and the more often you simply find yourself with a clear, aware presence, rather than a compulsive monkey-mind. It shouldn't feel like work to do these things. Rather, it should feel like a letting go. Like a release of weight. If it feels like work, you are probably trying to use your rational mind to make something happen that you can't make happen.
- What about money, illness, fill-in-the-blank? When you have a stack of bills you can't pay, or your health is dire or your relationship is on the ropes, it can certainly feel like there's no room for such frivolity. For whatever reason, we see much of this time spent on art or daydreaming or play as silly, childish. My response to that is to say that it is. And that's exactly the point. As children, we need play. We need to dream. Why should that need, so fundamental, so essential, simply go away at what, the age of 12, 14, 18? Now that's a silly thought. Yes, we have responsibilities, and we do not play or daydream all day. But we must make room for some of it, to remember the lightness that is not just possible, but is actually what we are. Steve Ross met a lot of enlightened yogis and gurus in his travels, and he says that all they do is laugh. So no matter what your objection, make a little room for lightness and breath. If nothing else, it will help you cope with whatever your problem might be.
In a sense, all this boils down to giving yourself permission to play and be free of your worries for a while. Permission to be present and enjoy whatever is happening now. If a flash of insight decides to make a visit, so much the better, but even if it doesn't, well, at least you get to have some fun.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Are You Introspective? You Should Be.
If I’ve made any progress at all in this journey of mine, I think it is mostly due to introspection.
One of my earliest memories of this process was as a young girl. I think I was maybe 10 or 11. A friend of mine pointed out to me that I liked to blame external causes for my problems, leading me to, frankly, whine a lot or not take responsibility for my actions. I was a terrible athlete, and every time I did poorly in some athletic event—either in school or with friends—I found some external reason for why I failed. I was terrified to face the truth that I simply wasn’t talented or well practiced enough to be good at sports. What she said stuck with me, and I just stopped whining about being bad at sports, just stopped accusing others of cheating, or whatever else I was doing that was not helping me get better and was in fact just helping me to accumulate enemies.
I learned that I had a problem, and then I figured out how to apply what I learned to make the problem go away. Applied introspection.
This is also how I figured out what to major in. I knew myself well enough that I’d be miserable in anything else but a life devoted to words, so I ignored all the calls to major in Econ or Comp Sci or plan for a career in law, and simply studied what felt effortless to study. (I also studied evolutionary anthropology, which was fun at the time—learning for the love of learning—but has since allowed me to do a lot of science/technology writing and editing, and given me an interesting background for fiction and other creative projects.) As it turns out, I have found success, independence and a decent degree of financial remuneration doing what I love.
When it came to love, I had one major and several minor failed relationships. After each one, I came to understand why the person was a poor match for me, and also what I had contributed to the relationship’s demise. When I finally met my husband and fell in love with him, thanks to all that introspective work I’d done, I was ready to commit to him -- the right person –- the person for whom I had authentic feelings, the person who had the qualities that I’d discovered I valued and who I was certain loved me for who I was, not who he hoped or imagined me to be. (You may know someone who falls for the same type over and over again, always ending up in heartbroken ruins. Happily, I avoided making this mistake, going for a more varied let’s-give-this-a-chance approach, and I attribute that broad-mindedness to this introspective process, which revealed more and more about what I felt, needed and wanted and who I was with each relationship.)
So by now you have guessed that I believe introspection to be one of the most valuable qualities to possess if you are to find balance and bliss and love in your life.
However, the question remains: Is introspection innate, or can it be acquired?
I don’t really know. I believe that people are blessed with certain gifts and talents that are just part of who they are, and that other personality traits are developed, nurtured and even instilled over time.
Is introspection an intellectual gift, or simply a learned behavior?
On this blog, I talk a lot about taking the time to mediate and examine the world and the self with a high level of analysis. I’m certain you can get better at introspection by practicing these things, but I wonder if you can become introspective if you’ve never been before. Maybe after a brush with death, or some similarly life-changing event?
I’d wager my readers here are a pretty introspective bunch. I’d like to hear from you: Were you always introspective? Do you think it is only innate or that it can be acquired?
More than anything, I'm curious about this process. Whenever I dispense advice, such as it is, it usually presumes that an introspective process is available. But what if it isn't always? What then?
I'm looking forward to any thoughts or ideas about this most fascinating of psychological and spiritual practices.
One of my earliest memories of this process was as a young girl. I think I was maybe 10 or 11. A friend of mine pointed out to me that I liked to blame external causes for my problems, leading me to, frankly, whine a lot or not take responsibility for my actions. I was a terrible athlete, and every time I did poorly in some athletic event—either in school or with friends—I found some external reason for why I failed. I was terrified to face the truth that I simply wasn’t talented or well practiced enough to be good at sports. What she said stuck with me, and I just stopped whining about being bad at sports, just stopped accusing others of cheating, or whatever else I was doing that was not helping me get better and was in fact just helping me to accumulate enemies.
I learned that I had a problem, and then I figured out how to apply what I learned to make the problem go away. Applied introspection.
This is also how I figured out what to major in. I knew myself well enough that I’d be miserable in anything else but a life devoted to words, so I ignored all the calls to major in Econ or Comp Sci or plan for a career in law, and simply studied what felt effortless to study. (I also studied evolutionary anthropology, which was fun at the time—learning for the love of learning—but has since allowed me to do a lot of science/technology writing and editing, and given me an interesting background for fiction and other creative projects.) As it turns out, I have found success, independence and a decent degree of financial remuneration doing what I love.
When it came to love, I had one major and several minor failed relationships. After each one, I came to understand why the person was a poor match for me, and also what I had contributed to the relationship’s demise. When I finally met my husband and fell in love with him, thanks to all that introspective work I’d done, I was ready to commit to him -- the right person –- the person for whom I had authentic feelings, the person who had the qualities that I’d discovered I valued and who I was certain loved me for who I was, not who he hoped or imagined me to be. (You may know someone who falls for the same type over and over again, always ending up in heartbroken ruins. Happily, I avoided making this mistake, going for a more varied let’s-give-this-a-chance approach, and I attribute that broad-mindedness to this introspective process, which revealed more and more about what I felt, needed and wanted and who I was with each relationship.)
So by now you have guessed that I believe introspection to be one of the most valuable qualities to possess if you are to find balance and bliss and love in your life.
However, the question remains: Is introspection innate, or can it be acquired?
I don’t really know. I believe that people are blessed with certain gifts and talents that are just part of who they are, and that other personality traits are developed, nurtured and even instilled over time.
Is introspection an intellectual gift, or simply a learned behavior?
On this blog, I talk a lot about taking the time to mediate and examine the world and the self with a high level of analysis. I’m certain you can get better at introspection by practicing these things, but I wonder if you can become introspective if you’ve never been before. Maybe after a brush with death, or some similarly life-changing event?
I’d wager my readers here are a pretty introspective bunch. I’d like to hear from you: Were you always introspective? Do you think it is only innate or that it can be acquired?
More than anything, I'm curious about this process. Whenever I dispense advice, such as it is, it usually presumes that an introspective process is available. But what if it isn't always? What then?
I'm looking forward to any thoughts or ideas about this most fascinating of psychological and spiritual practices.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Remove the Arrow: A Reminder
In my last few posts I've been exploring the idea of practicing patience, no matter what life throws at you.
I want to follow up and say that while I think the six points of the Mahamudra and Practice of Patience are all very useful and very good, some are better suited to certain kinds of suffering than others.
For instance, a reader pointed out that my kidney stone pain was a sort of pain that was hard to reimagine as pleasant to someone else. While I maintain that all points can be utilized, the "This too shall pass" item was maybe best suited to maintaining calm and patience in that scenario. (At least once I knew what it was--for a time I had no idea.) Think of the six points as options, and use whichever is best suited to allowing you to cultivate patience when you really need to.
Now, it a good idea to remember that some things that cause suffering we have no control over. Kidney stone pain is one of them. (Assuming there's nothing you know about yourself regarding diet or other ways to avoid the stones, you kind of just have to suck it up and allow the body to deal with it.) Many illnesses and the loss of others in our lives fall into this category.
However, there are plenty of kinds of pain and suffering that you do have control over. Namely work situations and relationships, and bad health--physical, emotional, or financial--that's self-inflicted.
There is a relevant Buddhist parable that I'll sum up here: A man is shot with a poisoned arrow. It is causing him great pain. But before he'll have it removed, he wants to know who shot him, why they shot him, where his assailant was from, what the arrow is made of, what sort of string the bow was strung with, etc...
The point is that knowing the answers to those questions do not alleviate the suffering. Indeed, in this scenario, the man might die and still not get the answers to all his questions. The only rational, clear-headed way forward is to remove that which is causing the suffering.
So, when considering your problem, pain or suffering, ask yourself if it is something you have control over. If not, practice patience.
If, on the other hand, it is something you can change--then there is no need to martyr yourself. You have both the power and the responsibility to love yourself enough to end the suffering.
Remove the arrow. You might still have questions, but the first order of business is to draw out the poisoned dart. Then, and only then, can an inquiry into why you've been shot or how it happened begin.
Good luck, and may all beings everywhere, including ourselves, be happy and free from suffering.
Love,
Tiffany
I want to follow up and say that while I think the six points of the Mahamudra and Practice of Patience are all very useful and very good, some are better suited to certain kinds of suffering than others.
For instance, a reader pointed out that my kidney stone pain was a sort of pain that was hard to reimagine as pleasant to someone else. While I maintain that all points can be utilized, the "This too shall pass" item was maybe best suited to maintaining calm and patience in that scenario. (At least once I knew what it was--for a time I had no idea.) Think of the six points as options, and use whichever is best suited to allowing you to cultivate patience when you really need to.
Now, it a good idea to remember that some things that cause suffering we have no control over. Kidney stone pain is one of them. (Assuming there's nothing you know about yourself regarding diet or other ways to avoid the stones, you kind of just have to suck it up and allow the body to deal with it.) Many illnesses and the loss of others in our lives fall into this category.
However, there are plenty of kinds of pain and suffering that you do have control over. Namely work situations and relationships, and bad health--physical, emotional, or financial--that's self-inflicted.
There is a relevant Buddhist parable that I'll sum up here: A man is shot with a poisoned arrow. It is causing him great pain. But before he'll have it removed, he wants to know who shot him, why they shot him, where his assailant was from, what the arrow is made of, what sort of string the bow was strung with, etc...
The point is that knowing the answers to those questions do not alleviate the suffering. Indeed, in this scenario, the man might die and still not get the answers to all his questions. The only rational, clear-headed way forward is to remove that which is causing the suffering.
So, when considering your problem, pain or suffering, ask yourself if it is something you have control over. If not, practice patience.
If, on the other hand, it is something you can change--then there is no need to martyr yourself. You have both the power and the responsibility to love yourself enough to end the suffering.
Remove the arrow. You might still have questions, but the first order of business is to draw out the poisoned dart. Then, and only then, can an inquiry into why you've been shot or how it happened begin.
Good luck, and may all beings everywhere, including ourselves, be happy and free from suffering.
Love,
Tiffany
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Consequences of Delaying a Big Decision
Mostly, you have time to figure things out. But not too much time. Too much time is really just not making up your mind, dragging out the inevitable, and, in fact, just wasting time.
So, if you have a big decision to make, or even just a small decision that feels important, get to it.
To tell you why this is on my mind, I have to tell you a story.
An acquaintance I know professionally recently announced her intention to seek a therapist. In her fifties, with a preteen son, she was unhappy, especially with her marriage. She did not know if she loved him anymore, and was uncertain whether to split up and make a new life for herself.
This was about two weeks ago.
Two days ago, I got word that her husband, also in his fifties, went into the hospital after complaining of an odd pain in his back. The next morning, while in a CT scan, the as-yet-to-be-discovered aneurysm ruptured, killing him almost instantly.
Though I scarcely knew this woman, I am haunted by this. Of course, it is simply sad, as the unexpected end of a relatively young life always is.
But what lingers for me is the thought of how neither of them will ever have a chance to say a proper goodbye to each other, and most importantly, how he will never get the chance to find a new path, full of happiness and love.
I can’t speculate on how much happiness he might have had in his life. I didn’t know him. But he was in what sounds like a broken, unhappy marriage, regardless of whether there was fault or blame to be had.
One of my favorite mantras from my yoga practice translates as this: May all beings everywhere, including ourselves, be happy and free of suffering.
I don’t care who you are, what you’ve done, what flaws you may have. All human beings—all of them—begin life as beautiful souls. All deserve happiness and peace. And unfortunately, some have a harder road to hoe than others, for a variety of reasons, both internal and external.
This is not to say that you are entitled to happiness and peace; in most cases, you have to earn it. But regardless of how you get there, as a human being, you do deserve peace.
So, back to this couple. Who the “good” partner or the “better” spouse was is immaterial. If the marriage was unhappy, each had a responsibility to end the suffering, either through authentic acceptance of reality (rather than a wishing it to be otherwise), a fundamental change of self (self-improvement to end a problem), or to end the marriage if it was irretrievable (letting go).
I am speculating, but my guess is that years of unhappiness went by in this couple’s life. Procrastinating. Searching after the cause of the problems, after faults and blame. And now fate has intervened. Some might say, “Well, the marriage is over now. Won’t the suffering be over, too?”
But the problem is that they left it up to fate (though unintentionally). The problem has been resolved in a sense, but without direct action. Without conscious decision. A passive, unsatisfying (and in this case, sad and irrevocable) solution.
This is kind of the worst-case scenario for not acting out of an honest, authentic sense of self.
So, what are the consequences to delaying decision-making? In a word, loss.
Loss of time. Loss of happiness. Loss of truth. Loss of self. Loss of authenticity and self-knowledge. Loss of agency. Loss of peace. Loss of a life.
Whatever decision you’re wrangling with, make your best effort to apply yourself to its completion. I know from personal experience that these things can take some time. But you don’t have forever. You have a little time, probably. But maybe not. You just don’t know.
But what you do know is that you can act while you are alive. If you are wrestling with a big decision, again, I say, do all you can to get to it. Don’t lose more time--and possibly your chance at peace--by putting off something you know you must do.
You deserve peace. You do. But you are also responsible for earning your peace.
Whoever you are, human, act! You are perfect in your ability to do so.
Love,
Tiffany
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
You Don't Have to Do Anything
I talk to my baby a lot. I tell him what I’m doing and why, essentially narrating the day and its activities.
The other day we were in the kitchen and I told him why I was at the sink. “I have to wash the dishes,” I said.
And then I considered that statement for a moment, and corrected myself. “I am washing the dishes,” I told him.
Does this distinction make sense? Does it seem important to you? I have decided that it is, and here’s why.
You can go through life thinking of things as “have-tos,” or you can do things out of a place of consciousness, where you know that you are the one deciding to do something, and that it is intrinsically worth doing.
I do not pretend to know much about Buddhism, but I imagine this is how a Buddhist would approach the dishes. It is a way of right-living and right-thinking, to do things that some might think of as chores or burdens as simply part of living a right, responsible life.
Do you have to wash the dishes? No, I don’t suppose you do. After all, you could leave them to putrefy in the sink, developing a nice crust of mold. Now, most of us don’t want to have that in our kitchens, and of course we like to have clean plates to eat off of, so we wash the dishes. But we do not have to. We could make a different choice. (I think I might have made this choice in college. But I digress.)
Anyway, once you remove the “have-to” from washing the dishes, the action seems a lot less burdensome. You want clean dishes to eat off of, so you wash them. It’s a decision, and it’s one that you do because you have decided to care for both the dish and yourself.
You are respecting the process of living, which in a nutshell is this: Order --> Entropy --> Chaos --> Action --> Order. Repeat. This is our cycle, our system. It just is.
It is why our teeth get dirty, and we brush them. It is why our grass gets long, and we mow it. It is why our minds get cluttered and we go to church or yoga and we clear them. It is why there are toys all over the house and then we pick them up and put them away. And if there is a day where you would like to get to the dishes or to yoga but you can’t because life intervenes? No matter. If it is important, you will get to it another day.
We recently bought a new car to accommodate our growing family, and not two weeks after we brought it home from the dealership, there was a tiny chip in the bumper. This upset my husband. “What’s the point?” he said, exasperated.
And then I remembered this:
“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”
- Mark Epstein
Thoughts Without a Thinker
And I told him: “The car is already in a salvage yard. It’s already rusted and smashed. But while it is ours, we do all we can to take care of it and enjoy it and be responsible for it. Because it is the right thing to do.”
I am no philosopher, haven’t studied it, but I think this is what is meant when morals are discussed. You wash the dishes. You take care of your car. You take responsibility for that which you own and those who are dependent on you and for your actions.
It’s clear many people don’t do what they have to. Or what they should. They don’t choose a right-thinking, right-living life. “Who cares?” they say. “Life is short, I’m out to get mine while the getting is good and I’m young and life feels good.” But there is a denial of something in this approach, a nihilism.
To be clear, I’m not advocating for taking on the burdens of the world. (See my post about why you shouldn’t even try here.) Rather, I’m advocating that you alter your attitude toward what you are already doing, such that you don’t feel burdened by what is the way of living. No more “have-tos.”
And, by so doing, you enjoy everything more. You feel more serenity. You appreciate the process. You slow down. You notice more. Look at the way the bubbles dance across the surface of the glass as you wash it. See the universe here in your sink full of dishes. You no more have to wash these dishes than the universe had to bring you into existence. But you are here, and so are the dishes, so why not make the most of it?
Things fall apart, things come together, things fall apart once more. Of course.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
When Telling Stories Causes Suffering
One of the ways you cause yourself suffering is by making up a story. What do I mean by this?
Let's say you have a friend whom you've invited to a party, and she says she can't make it. Maybe she gives an excuse, maybe not.
Whatever she says or doesn't say, you can cause needless suffering by telling yourself a story. "She doesn't want to come because the last time I saw her I made a political comment she didn't like, and now she likes me less. Or maybe it's because she's upset that I didn't call her back that one weekend when she invited me to see a movie. Or, maybe she just finds me boring and doesn't want to spend a Saturday night hanging out with me."
Whatever. You could go on and on. And because people do behave according to some internal motive, it's possible that any of the above reasons are the ones she doesn't attend the party with you. But without asking her point blank, it's impossible to know for certain the reason why. All of the stories you've told yourself are pure conjecture, and none of them might be true. It could be that her grandma died. Or she has swine flu. Or she is having one of those weekends where she wants to sit on the couch and read a huge book she's been meaning to get to.
The point is, you cannot know. But in the meantime, what are you doing with the stories you're telling yourself? Causing needless suffering for yourself. Feeling hurt and depressed. Wondering what's wrong with you.
None of these things are useful. If you truly fear that something is wrong between you, don't make up stories. Uncover the truth. If you've been a bad friend, she'll tell you. (And if she can't talk to you, or she changes the subject, then you've learned something about the nature of your relationship, which you can then utilize later to make a decision about how to proceed.)
This story-telling can cause problems anywhere in life. Before I began practicing yoga and tai chi, I had developed a pretty bad case of runner's knee, especially after I completed a rigorous training schedule for a marathon. Even after the marathon ended, the pain went on and on--not just for months, for years. I ran through it, it would flare up, I'd rest, and it would feel better. Then I'd run again, and voila, back to the pain. The pain was just pain. But the suffering came in when I would tell myself that I'd never run again or that I had permanently damaged my body or that I'd get fat like that health teacher I had in high school who told us she'd injured her hamstring and had never been able to be physically active again.
Every time the pain would flare up, I'd tell myself these stories. I'd grow sad and frustrated and angry.
Though I didn't know it at the time, yoga and tai chi would heal my knees completely and I'd be able to run again. None of the stories I'd told myself turned out to be true. I believed those stories at the time, though, and suffered more than I would have just by feeling the pain.
So, what stories are you telling yourself? Are they true? If you think they are, do you know they are? Really, do you?
In yoga, I've learned that feeling discomfort can be observed without any narrative. I can just feel, just be, and the burn in my legs just is. I can become detached and observant, like a Buddhist monk. (Well, maybe I get close, anyway.)
The next time you hear yourself making up stories about why something is, or how something will be in the future, stop yourself. Ask yourself if you have any basis for the story. If not, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Just be. Just feel. No thoughts. No judgment. No stories.
Less suffering.
Let's say you have a friend whom you've invited to a party, and she says she can't make it. Maybe she gives an excuse, maybe not.
Whatever she says or doesn't say, you can cause needless suffering by telling yourself a story. "She doesn't want to come because the last time I saw her I made a political comment she didn't like, and now she likes me less. Or maybe it's because she's upset that I didn't call her back that one weekend when she invited me to see a movie. Or, maybe she just finds me boring and doesn't want to spend a Saturday night hanging out with me."
Whatever. You could go on and on. And because people do behave according to some internal motive, it's possible that any of the above reasons are the ones she doesn't attend the party with you. But without asking her point blank, it's impossible to know for certain the reason why. All of the stories you've told yourself are pure conjecture, and none of them might be true. It could be that her grandma died. Or she has swine flu. Or she is having one of those weekends where she wants to sit on the couch and read a huge book she's been meaning to get to.
The point is, you cannot know. But in the meantime, what are you doing with the stories you're telling yourself? Causing needless suffering for yourself. Feeling hurt and depressed. Wondering what's wrong with you.
None of these things are useful. If you truly fear that something is wrong between you, don't make up stories. Uncover the truth. If you've been a bad friend, she'll tell you. (And if she can't talk to you, or she changes the subject, then you've learned something about the nature of your relationship, which you can then utilize later to make a decision about how to proceed.)
This story-telling can cause problems anywhere in life. Before I began practicing yoga and tai chi, I had developed a pretty bad case of runner's knee, especially after I completed a rigorous training schedule for a marathon. Even after the marathon ended, the pain went on and on--not just for months, for years. I ran through it, it would flare up, I'd rest, and it would feel better. Then I'd run again, and voila, back to the pain. The pain was just pain. But the suffering came in when I would tell myself that I'd never run again or that I had permanently damaged my body or that I'd get fat like that health teacher I had in high school who told us she'd injured her hamstring and had never been able to be physically active again.
Every time the pain would flare up, I'd tell myself these stories. I'd grow sad and frustrated and angry.
Though I didn't know it at the time, yoga and tai chi would heal my knees completely and I'd be able to run again. None of the stories I'd told myself turned out to be true. I believed those stories at the time, though, and suffered more than I would have just by feeling the pain.
So, what stories are you telling yourself? Are they true? If you think they are, do you know they are? Really, do you?
In yoga, I've learned that feeling discomfort can be observed without any narrative. I can just feel, just be, and the burn in my legs just is. I can become detached and observant, like a Buddhist monk. (Well, maybe I get close, anyway.)
The next time you hear yourself making up stories about why something is, or how something will be in the future, stop yourself. Ask yourself if you have any basis for the story. If not, take a deep breath and clear your mind. Just be. Just feel. No thoughts. No judgment. No stories.
Less suffering.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
How to Make A Decision, Period
The most frequently visited page to this site, by a large margin, is to the post titled "How to Make a Big Decision."
In that post, I dispensed some advice, based on my own experience, on how to use your imagination, reason and emotions to pick the correct path when faced with a difficult choice.
Recently, I realized that there's a different kind of decision-making process to take into consideration. This realization came after talking to a friend who is in a hell of her own making, but not because she can't make a decision. Indeed, she's made many, many decisions. Many of them even appear to be wise, good decisions, that should help her travel a successful and happy life path.
But, nope. So what's the trouble then?
I think it boils down to a lack of commitment. For various and sundry reasons, she can't get behind the decisions she makes. There's no conviction, no faith, no whole-heartedness.
In fact, that lack of heart is the crux of the problem. The reasons the decisions look good from the outside, and indeed, might be great decisions for any other person is that they make intellectual sense.
Indeed, many of our decisions start out, and even rely on, the rational faculty. A cost-benefit analysis. A list of pros and cons. For the extremely rational, the geeky and analytical, a post like this can certainly help. But creating a "grid analysis of multiple criteria" or "calculating the expected value of every outcome" can only get you so far. It's true that you can base a big decision on this kind of analysis, but beware: You might end up like my friend.
You may know someone like this. He or she makes a decision. To take a new job, let's say. And it looks, on paper, to be the right thing. The pay is better. It's in a nicer city. It has a clearer avenue for advancement.
But if this person does not choose--mind and heart--to be there, to really inhabit that decision, the chances are good that the decision will only lead to later paralysis and despair.
You might think, given this, that to really commit to a big decision that you'd have to be 100 percent sure, or at least more than 90 percent certain. Ironically, I don't think certainty plays into whether a decision will stick or not.
As with so many of the most important things about this human existence, making a decision that works comes down to faith.
So many people, it seems to me, lack this ability. And I'm not talking about the ability to believe in a higher power, either. I mean the ability to put aside hesitancy and simply leap. To believe whole-heartedly that this is your path that you've chosen and you're gonna stick with it.
So what stops people from doing this? I suppose a lot of it is fear, but to a larger extent, I think it really reflects a lack of practice. Somewhere along the way we have learned to trust others to make decisions for us--parents, teachers, government, authorities--and so we've lost the ability to trust ourselves to do this kind of leaping.
Just as in art-making, the more you get comfortable with the unknown, with the uncertainty of it all, the more you can make your way based on your inner compass. Your true self and your decisions begin to align. Your decisions, even when made with uncertainty, are based in something authentic. You are not inhabiting a false self, living a false life for others. Instead, you are choosing a path that is yours, one entirely of your own making.
In that post, I dispensed some advice, based on my own experience, on how to use your imagination, reason and emotions to pick the correct path when faced with a difficult choice.
Recently, I realized that there's a different kind of decision-making process to take into consideration. This realization came after talking to a friend who is in a hell of her own making, but not because she can't make a decision. Indeed, she's made many, many decisions. Many of them even appear to be wise, good decisions, that should help her travel a successful and happy life path.
But, nope. So what's the trouble then?
I think it boils down to a lack of commitment. For various and sundry reasons, she can't get behind the decisions she makes. There's no conviction, no faith, no whole-heartedness.
In fact, that lack of heart is the crux of the problem. The reasons the decisions look good from the outside, and indeed, might be great decisions for any other person is that they make intellectual sense.
Indeed, many of our decisions start out, and even rely on, the rational faculty. A cost-benefit analysis. A list of pros and cons. For the extremely rational, the geeky and analytical, a post like this can certainly help. But creating a "grid analysis of multiple criteria" or "calculating the expected value of every outcome" can only get you so far. It's true that you can base a big decision on this kind of analysis, but beware: You might end up like my friend.
You may know someone like this. He or she makes a decision. To take a new job, let's say. And it looks, on paper, to be the right thing. The pay is better. It's in a nicer city. It has a clearer avenue for advancement.
But if this person does not choose--mind and heart--to be there, to really inhabit that decision, the chances are good that the decision will only lead to later paralysis and despair.
You might think, given this, that to really commit to a big decision that you'd have to be 100 percent sure, or at least more than 90 percent certain. Ironically, I don't think certainty plays into whether a decision will stick or not.
As with so many of the most important things about this human existence, making a decision that works comes down to faith.
So many people, it seems to me, lack this ability. And I'm not talking about the ability to believe in a higher power, either. I mean the ability to put aside hesitancy and simply leap. To believe whole-heartedly that this is your path that you've chosen and you're gonna stick with it.
So what stops people from doing this? I suppose a lot of it is fear, but to a larger extent, I think it really reflects a lack of practice. Somewhere along the way we have learned to trust others to make decisions for us--parents, teachers, government, authorities--and so we've lost the ability to trust ourselves to do this kind of leaping.
Just as in art-making, the more you get comfortable with the unknown, with the uncertainty of it all, the more you can make your way based on your inner compass. Your true self and your decisions begin to align. Your decisions, even when made with uncertainty, are based in something authentic. You are not inhabiting a false self, living a false life for others. Instead, you are choosing a path that is yours, one entirely of your own making.
Monday, July 13, 2009
How to Cut the Crap
Bullshit. We should all know it when we hear it, and if you don't, then there is nothing I can recommend more than tuning up your bullshit detector. (See my earlier post on rhetorical analysis for some ideas on how to do this.)
Lately, I feel as though the world is awash in bullshit. It is all I hear on the news, on the radio, from most people I know casually. People have forgotten, or have never learned, how to speak directly.
I've been reading Walden, and Thoreau, though wordy, is not bullshitting. He is unafraid to say what he wants ("to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life") or what he observes ("the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation"). I read a work like this, and it only further highlights the difference between what is direct and true, and what passes for the same these days.
Mostly, this tsunami of bullshit has been perpetrated through language, through the corruption of words and their meanings. As a writer, this disturbs me to no end. As of late, I feel as though my tools are damaged, dirty and, often, dangerous. (Consider the word "dangerous." Everything is "dangerous" now. That medium-rare burger. The dog down the street. Freaking carbon dioxide.)
As of late, I have wanted to say less, and to say it directly. And yet, that is not the straightforward task it would seem to be. Because corrupted words do not uncorrupt depending on who is making use of them. The magic of words is that they contain layer upon layer of meaning, yet take such a compact form. But of course, these layers are applied over time by many, and cannot be removed easily, if ever. ("Villain," once a word for a simple farmer.)
So, it is harder than ever to communicate, especially as we retreat into our own righteous sects, certain we know what it means to be (insert label here). We spit out words without thinking, redefining them to suit our purposes, accepting redefinitions from others intent on their own shaping of public opinion.
And all this time, hardly anyone is thinking, analyzing. Instead, we're just readying the next load of bullshit.
Maybe you know a person who doesn't speak very often, because he is mostly listening. And people often ignore him, because of course he's not clamoring for the spotlight, hoping to have his ego stroked, to have his mean little jokes laughed at. And then, after a long silence, he speaks, and everyone is astounded. Not just that he has spoken, but that what he has said is very incisive, is amazingly considered.
My blog is about finding bliss, that's true. But honesty is essential to bliss, and even if others insist on lying to you, you don't have to 1) lie to yourself, 2) accept the lies of others.
It will take concentration, and some degree of fearlessness, but I exhort you to be more like that person I described above, and to do what you can to reduce the amount of bullshit you either generate or are exposed to in life. Whether it's from the nightly news or from a friend hardly matters. What matters is that there you are, striving for honesty.
Lately, I feel as though the world is awash in bullshit. It is all I hear on the news, on the radio, from most people I know casually. People have forgotten, or have never learned, how to speak directly.
I've been reading Walden, and Thoreau, though wordy, is not bullshitting. He is unafraid to say what he wants ("to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life") or what he observes ("the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation"). I read a work like this, and it only further highlights the difference between what is direct and true, and what passes for the same these days.
Mostly, this tsunami of bullshit has been perpetrated through language, through the corruption of words and their meanings. As a writer, this disturbs me to no end. As of late, I feel as though my tools are damaged, dirty and, often, dangerous. (Consider the word "dangerous." Everything is "dangerous" now. That medium-rare burger. The dog down the street. Freaking carbon dioxide.)
As of late, I have wanted to say less, and to say it directly. And yet, that is not the straightforward task it would seem to be. Because corrupted words do not uncorrupt depending on who is making use of them. The magic of words is that they contain layer upon layer of meaning, yet take such a compact form. But of course, these layers are applied over time by many, and cannot be removed easily, if ever. ("Villain," once a word for a simple farmer.)
So, it is harder than ever to communicate, especially as we retreat into our own righteous sects, certain we know what it means to be (insert label here). We spit out words without thinking, redefining them to suit our purposes, accepting redefinitions from others intent on their own shaping of public opinion.
And all this time, hardly anyone is thinking, analyzing. Instead, we're just readying the next load of bullshit.
Maybe you know a person who doesn't speak very often, because he is mostly listening. And people often ignore him, because of course he's not clamoring for the spotlight, hoping to have his ego stroked, to have his mean little jokes laughed at. And then, after a long silence, he speaks, and everyone is astounded. Not just that he has spoken, but that what he has said is very incisive, is amazingly considered.
My blog is about finding bliss, that's true. But honesty is essential to bliss, and even if others insist on lying to you, you don't have to 1) lie to yourself, 2) accept the lies of others.
It will take concentration, and some degree of fearlessness, but I exhort you to be more like that person I described above, and to do what you can to reduce the amount of bullshit you either generate or are exposed to in life. Whether it's from the nightly news or from a friend hardly matters. What matters is that there you are, striving for honesty.
Monday, July 28, 2008
How to Live with a Big Decision
A while back, I wrote a post about the process of deciding. About how hard it can be simply to choose one path over another, and the paralysis we often suffer from in making that choice.
However, one of my readers posed an excellent follow-up question to that post. It follows:
She describes the decision to stay in the U.S. even though she's from England, leading to the situation she describes above. How, then to live with the facts of your choice?
So, how do you live with a tough decision?
Whenever I face a difficult question like this one, I first ask myself what Joseph Campbell has said about it. Not because he was the smartest man to ever live or anything like that, but because he has looked at mythology as an instruction manual for living the most authentic, blissful and right-thinking/right-feeling life. He has taught me how desperately we need mythic structures in our lives, and how out of whack our lives are for the absence of a functioning mythology.
My first thoughts are these: Campbell talks about the danger of living in fear of the dragon whose scales are inscribed with the countless "thou shalts" that other people have for you. So, for instance: Thou shalt get a college degree. Thou shalt study this field. Thou shalt live in the suburbs. Thou shalt have 2.3 kids. But also, Thou shalt be easy to get along with. Thou shalt not cause controversy. Thou shalt obey the rules. Or, if you belong to a subculture, Thou shalt get a tattoo, because everyone else has, or whatever.
Do you see? The thou shalt is the command other people throw your way. We allow so many of these to control us and steer us off our right path that Campbell invokes the image of a conglomerated dragon ruling us with thou shalts.
His advice? We must slay the dragon and live according to what is right and proper for our own lives.
My feeling is that Campbell would say that if you have been true to yourself in your decision, if it the thing that is best for you or your children or the way you want to live--and by no one else's command--you will be able to accept, in time, the decision, even with all its sacrifices.
Of course, that doesn't mean others will, and that's where it gets tricky. Not everyone is capable of letting someone go, of allowing them to live their own lives. Sometimes they do this out of a misguided attachment, believing that they must have control over that person or else they will have nothing, and sometimes it's downright selfish.
Sometimes, it is because of deep grief for the end of something. Childhood. A full house. Fertility. Life. If the grief is based in normal feelings of loss, it will ease over time.
The bottom line is that you are the only one who can live your life. You can do your best to explain your decisions and soften their impact, but until another person can live your life for you, they cannot torture you for a decision you've made in good conscience. Which is precisely the reason you must not torture yourself.
From The Power of Myth:
However, one of my readers posed an excellent follow-up question to that post. It follows:
It's one thing to actually MAKE a decision about something huge, but what about living WITH that decision? How do I live knowing i've broken my parents' hearts by telling them that they'll only get to see me once a year (they can't afford to travel over here)?
She describes the decision to stay in the U.S. even though she's from England, leading to the situation she describes above. How, then to live with the facts of your choice?
So, how do you live with a tough decision?
Whenever I face a difficult question like this one, I first ask myself what Joseph Campbell has said about it. Not because he was the smartest man to ever live or anything like that, but because he has looked at mythology as an instruction manual for living the most authentic, blissful and right-thinking/right-feeling life. He has taught me how desperately we need mythic structures in our lives, and how out of whack our lives are for the absence of a functioning mythology.
My first thoughts are these: Campbell talks about the danger of living in fear of the dragon whose scales are inscribed with the countless "thou shalts" that other people have for you. So, for instance: Thou shalt get a college degree. Thou shalt study this field. Thou shalt live in the suburbs. Thou shalt have 2.3 kids. But also, Thou shalt be easy to get along with. Thou shalt not cause controversy. Thou shalt obey the rules. Or, if you belong to a subculture, Thou shalt get a tattoo, because everyone else has, or whatever.
Do you see? The thou shalt is the command other people throw your way. We allow so many of these to control us and steer us off our right path that Campbell invokes the image of a conglomerated dragon ruling us with thou shalts.
His advice? We must slay the dragon and live according to what is right and proper for our own lives.
My feeling is that Campbell would say that if you have been true to yourself in your decision, if it the thing that is best for you or your children or the way you want to live--and by no one else's command--you will be able to accept, in time, the decision, even with all its sacrifices.
Of course, that doesn't mean others will, and that's where it gets tricky. Not everyone is capable of letting someone go, of allowing them to live their own lives. Sometimes they do this out of a misguided attachment, believing that they must have control over that person or else they will have nothing, and sometimes it's downright selfish.
Sometimes, it is because of deep grief for the end of something. Childhood. A full house. Fertility. Life. If the grief is based in normal feelings of loss, it will ease over time.
The bottom line is that you are the only one who can live your life. You can do your best to explain your decisions and soften their impact, but until another person can live your life for you, they cannot torture you for a decision you've made in good conscience. Which is precisely the reason you must not torture yourself.
From The Power of Myth:
Moyers: There is an old prayer that says, "Lord, teach us when to let go." All of us have to know that, don't we?
Campbell: That's the big problem of the parent. Being a parent is one of the most demanding careers I know. When I think what my father and mother gave up of themselves to launch their family--well, I really appreciate that.
My father was a businessman, and of course, he would have been very happy to have his son go into business with him and take it on. In fact, I did go into business with Dad for a couple of months, and then I thought, "Geez, I can't do this." And he let me go. There is that testing time in your life when you have got to test yourself out to your own flight.
Moyers: Myths used to help us know when to let go.
Campbell: Myths formulate things for you. They say, for example, that you have to become an adult at a particular age...You have to have a feeling for where you are. You've got only one life to live, and you don't have to live it for six people. Pay attention to it.
Monday, October 1, 2007
How to Make a Big Decision
So much of how our lives turn out hinges on our ability--or inability--to make decisions. After all, decisions are essentially the moments before action--or inaction--meaning that over time, what you choose accumulates into a path for your life.
Mostly, these are small decisions: Should I cook or go out? Should I buy the blue or the red sweater? Should I get cable?
While these decisions are small, they are worth paying attention to, because the ripple effects can be quite big. (This is why we don't have cable--the time I could waste watching the Food Network alone boggles the mind!)
So, while it's important to be mindful of some of these smaller decisions, today I'm interested in the big ones. So, for example: Should I quit my job? Should I get married? Should I get married to her? Should I start my own company? Should I move to the West Coast?
Fortunately or unfortunately, most of us are keenly aware at the impact these big decisions can have on our lives, and so we can become paralyzed by indecision, afraid to act at all for fear of making a huge mistake. For some, this may pass, and you will find that you are able to decide. For others, the decision simply gets put off: first for days, then months, then maybe even years slip by with no action taken. Inertia becomes the only thing propelling your life.
As you may have already guessed, this is not ideal. Any power you do have over your own life is going to waste.
So how to break free of this kind of paralysis? I have used very focused visualization in the past to great effect. Perhaps this will seem obvious to many of you, but I know that it seemed like a revelation to me at the time. I hope you find this technique helpful.
Here's what I do:
If you think of your life as a movie, be the director. Your movie should be directed by you, not by inertia. So start storyboarding--soon, you'll be ready to yell "Action!"
UPDATE: I've recently expanded on this topic in this post, titled "How to Live With a Big Decision." If you liked this one, I think you'll get a lot out of that one, too!
UPDATE 2: Another entry in the decision-making category for your perusal: "How to Make a Decision, Period." I hope you find it useful.
UPDATE 3: Another decision-related entry, this time on "The Consequences of Delaying a Big Decision."
Mostly, these are small decisions: Should I cook or go out? Should I buy the blue or the red sweater? Should I get cable?
While these decisions are small, they are worth paying attention to, because the ripple effects can be quite big. (This is why we don't have cable--the time I could waste watching the Food Network alone boggles the mind!)
So, while it's important to be mindful of some of these smaller decisions, today I'm interested in the big ones. So, for example: Should I quit my job? Should I get married? Should I get married to her? Should I start my own company? Should I move to the West Coast?
Fortunately or unfortunately, most of us are keenly aware at the impact these big decisions can have on our lives, and so we can become paralyzed by indecision, afraid to act at all for fear of making a huge mistake. For some, this may pass, and you will find that you are able to decide. For others, the decision simply gets put off: first for days, then months, then maybe even years slip by with no action taken. Inertia becomes the only thing propelling your life.
As you may have already guessed, this is not ideal. Any power you do have over your own life is going to waste.
So how to break free of this kind of paralysis? I have used very focused visualization in the past to great effect. Perhaps this will seem obvious to many of you, but I know that it seemed like a revelation to me at the time. I hope you find this technique helpful.
Here's what I do:
- Find a place you can lie down and be totally alone. This is likely to be your bedroom, but so long as you're lying down and no one is nearby, it will work.
- Lie down, close your eyes, and breathe deeply. You need to calm your mind, relax your muscles, let your breath rise and fall from your belly and not your shoulders. You need to get into a near-meditative state, really. This can take several minutes. Be patient.
- Once relaxed, with your eyes still closed, focus your mind on the decision. Put it in either-or terms. As in: I can either stay in Texas, or I can move to Arizona.
- Pick one, and begin to construct the movie of that decision in your mind. So you decide you will stay in a certain place, in a certain job, with the social network you have. What does that look like? What do you see next week looking like? Next year? Get down to the details. Who will you be seeing often? Which bars/restaurants/offices will you be spending time in? How does this make you feel? What do you like and dislike about this option? Again, imagine this to be as real and visual as possible.
- Pick the other decision, and create that movie. Once you feel like you have really explored both the images and the feelings of one option, switch to the other and do the same exercise over again. If, in this example, it's imagining something you aren't familiar with, recognize that. Imagine the moving van, and the drive into a place that's only sort of fuzzy. Imagine that you won't know who your friends will be, and so you'll have to talk to people on that getting-to-know-you level. Get down to all the practical ramifications of making that decision. Does that excite you, or fill you with dread?
- Pinpoint your emotions. Try to put into language the emotions you felt in each scene. Get up and create a list of words that apply to each visualization. Come up with as many that apply as possible.
- Analyze the emotions. There will likely be positive and negative emotions in each decision. But now you can figure out why you feel the way you do. For example, you may feel fear at both the prospect of staying and of leaving. But is that fear exactly the same? Is one the fear of missed opportunity, and the other the fear of loneliness and unfamiliarity? Which one scares you more? Which emotions excite you more?
- Meditate on what you've discovered. You likely won't have a "Eureka!" moment when you've finished this exercise, though it is possible. But having gone through the practice runs in your head, the identifying and analyzing of emotions will certainly give your subconscious something to chew on. When your mind explores a decision, you may feel a tightness in your throat, or a feeling of calm. Pay attention to that. Also pay attention to your dreams. Listen to all the signs of your body and mind in relation to each decision.
If you think of your life as a movie, be the director. Your movie should be directed by you, not by inertia. So start storyboarding--soon, you'll be ready to yell "Action!"
UPDATE: I've recently expanded on this topic in this post, titled "How to Live With a Big Decision." If you liked this one, I think you'll get a lot out of that one, too!
UPDATE 2: Another entry in the decision-making category for your perusal: "How to Make a Decision, Period." I hope you find it useful.
UPDATE 3: Another decision-related entry, this time on "The Consequences of Delaying a Big Decision."
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