How to Set an Intention

In my last post, I mentioned that I wanted to discuss intention setting. (In the stressful situation I wrote about, I had told my son, "I'm wanting to feel calm and spacious..." and that that was my intention for that day.)

This, intention setting, is another tool I practice to help my days feel rich and vital and blissful. Or, on days when I'm coping with something difficult, it helps my day to have the space and calm and peace I need to make room for difficult emotions or situations that I know I'll have to navigate.

It's really simple. The key is that you have to make it a habit and make room for intention setting in the beginning of your day.

On an average day, I might set an intention like this: "At the end of the day, I want to feel energetic and joyful."

Other common intentions in my household include:

• Abundant and free
• Calm and spacious
• Peaceful and content
• Patient and loving
• Playful
• Appreciative
• Present and aware
• Empathetic
• Mindful
• Rich and prosperous

You get the idea. Choose one, choose a few. Mix and match. Create what's relevant to you. The other thing is, you can pick whatever you want, but you can't let circumstances derail your intention. That's where the practice comes in. If you want to feel patient and loving and your child is testing your patience with huge tantrums, you have to devise some way to try and generate, authentically, the feeling of patience and lovingkindness, in the face of tests.

That's why I often like to add a strategy at the end of my intention. So, it might look like this: "At the end of the day, I want to feel patient and loving. --> Deep breaths, counting and lots of hugs!"

That way I have the intellectual touchstone--the idea about the feeling--and a roadmap for how to actually generate, in my body and brain and heart, the feeling.

My son and I have a little whiteboard we keep on the table where we write down our intentions over breakfast. You don't have to do this, but I like to model this practice for my children, so that's important to me. You can keep yours private if you want.

My family has had so much success with this practice, because it prevents us from reacting out of a more primitive and emotional place. Just by setting the intention, we have a positive, healthy direction we've placed in the front of our minds.

I don't want to be a mama who yells all the time. I don't want to be angry, impatient, frustrated, distracted, discontented, etc. I want to be rich, happy, joyful, grateful, loving, patient, kind, contented and all the other good qualities we admire. I want to live in those feelings. And, as a wise teacher says, what you appreciate, appreciates. The more you can authentically dwell in those feelings, the more good feelings come to you.

As if it weren't enough to just feel better and have happier, more spacious days, other benefits accrue from this practice: Healthier relationships. More time. An instinct toward simplicity, gratitude and kindness. Less debt. More productivity in the areas of the most meaning. Clarity of thoughts. Less time spent in regret, less time apologizing. More playfulness and creativity.

Go ahead. Give it a try. Let me know how it goes for you, or if you have any questions.

Peace,
Tiffany

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.

• 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.

Again, you can't force an epiphany. But you can improve the odds by cultivating the right conditions in your mind, body and behaviors.

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.

My Dog, the Very Advanced Yogini

The other morning, I saw god in my dog’s eyes. My son and I and she were all outside in the backyard, and after a quick game of fetch, she laid down in the cool, shaded grass, sphinx-like.

She wanted nothing, needed nothing. Fed, watered, exercised, and near her family, she simply sat, peaceful, with no agitation.

While my baby busied himself with his sandbox, I sat next to her, and she looked at me, and I looked at her, and I swear I experienced a look of pure awareness.

Now, she’s a pretty intelligent dog, but the look I saw wasn’t her sharpness. It was a look that revealed her source, our source. It was god, in the most ineffable sense of the concept of god.

Now, dogs are generally pretty good at being in the moment, but they, too, have a kind of consciousness and bodily needs and instincts and even desires. In this moment, she was not subject to those, and thus I got a glimpse of the truth that religions and yoga and spiritual journeys are always pointing toward.

It’s hard to see this in another human’s eyes, I think, because we’re all so caught up in the illusions that our minds create for us to want or fear or hold onto. Our eyes, even if the outer, defensive shield is dropped, still retain yet another curtain that prevents most people from seeing more deeply, prevents us from being transparent to the transcendent. So that’s why it was a real privilege—this truly sacred moment—to see into my beautiful dog’s eyes and receive her gift of revealed awareness.

I’m not sure that she hasn’t given me this gift before, but if she has, then I know I must not have been able to see it, blinded by my own shortcomings and fears, needs and wants. I am hopeful that my ability to witness this, to actually notice it, means that I am shedding some of those obstructions to truth and awareness.

I don’t believe animals are here on earth to serve us, per se, but I do believe that incidental to our symbiotic relationship, they can offer us a whole hell of a lot that we’re probably usually too busy to accept.

You Must Save Your Life

And sometimes, a poem just sums it all up.

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

© Mary Oliver. Online Source

Relax Your Mental Spam Filter (and Contemplate a Dream)

Last night I had the most vivid dream. I had been selected as a grant winner to write a children’s book. It was enough money to take a month or two off of freelance work and just be immersed in the creative process. Other than that the book had something to do with the ocean and ships -- I don’t remember too many more details, but I remember how I felt.

I felt as though I was being recognized for a talent I knew I had but had been afraid to engage. Nearly everyone was effusive in their praise (except someone shadowy, but I’ll get to that). More than anything, I felt like in acknowledging this award and accepting it, I was at home. More at peace and more serene than at any other time in my life. Like I was a key finding my lock, a puzzle piece clicking into the final empty space. Like I was being allowed to fulfill my potential.

As for that shadowy figure: I was aware of jealous, critical eyes, too. Surrounded by happiness and supportive people, I felt a dark presence that dismissed the award. “What, she got it? Oh, please!” it seemed to say. This person was full of unkindness toward the award and toward me, and essentially told me I didn’t deserve it. That someone else had been robbed, and that it seemed to be fixed. That I hadn’t earned it.

Upon reflection, I’m certain that sneering person was me. My inner critic. The one who keeps me afraid and holding back and procrastinating on all my big dream projects. The one who tells me to not shoot too high, and to stick with what I can get. With what people will just give me. Don’t ask for anything too good, she says, you don’t deserve it. And if some good thing should come your way? Don’t get too proud, you aren’t that special. And if you’re too good at something, watch out -- you’ll alienate people, and no one will like you.

I think dreams often have vital information. They’re the e-mails our subconscious is desperately trying to send to the already stuffed inbox of the conscious self. Could you dismiss them as spam from the wacky boiler room of your head? I suppose so. And sometimes they certainly seem to be undecipherable weirdness. But this one (and a few others I’ve listened to over the years) have had such resonant, lingering feelings that they are impossible to dismiss, even if they are hard to tease out.

The dream above is not one of those, obviously. It did take a little bit of reflection to know that the negative presence wasn’t someone external, but the critic and negative self-talker that takes up way too much space in my head.

Does that mean I’m going to start writing a book now? (I’m actually surprised by the fact that it indicated a children’s book, since I’ve never seriously contemplated writing one. Or maybe I have – subconsciously!)

Actually, maybe I will. Something tells me this is one of those dreams you listen to. I had a dream about starting this blog—even the name came to me in a dream—and it’s been a vital project in my life, even with my occasional sabbaticals.

I had a dream about knowing it was time to have a baby, and while I have never been busier or more sleep deprived, I can say without a doubt that he is the greatest blessing of my entire life. I was ready for a baby, and I’m so very, very glad he’s here.

I know that one doesn’t eject the nasty inner critic in one evening, but something about the dream above clarified things for me. I may have intellectually known that I had a destructive, sabotaging inner voice, but the dream was the only way I could have felt how damaging the voice is, and how right and perfect I am when I’m engaging my talents to their fullest potential.

Since I can’t know whether this dream will steer me in a new path until some time has passed, I don’t have too much advice. Just a suggestion to allow your most vivid dreams a chance to open up and show you something important that you might be missing.

If nothing else, maybe it’s a good idea to loosen up the mental spam filter and let something that seems kind of wacky or out there into a space where it can gain a bit of traction and legitimacy. And hey, who knows? Maybe it’ll be the newest priority on your to-do list.

Be Thankful for Your Limitations

First, a bit of good news re: my last post. I have been stretching my writing muscles, writing a new bit of creative writing every day. Right now it only amounts to exercises of about 250 words, but just as you can't run a marathon without training...well, let's just say I'm dusting off some cobwebs through this practice, getting ready for longer sessions. Still, even this feels so good.

Which brings me to today's thoughts on limitations. One of the ways I'm getting back to writing is through predetermined prompts, not of my own making. For example, tonight's exercise was this: "Describe a landscape as seen by a bird. Do not mention the bird."

Most of the time, we think of limitations as obstacles. As in, "If only I didn't have to go to work, I'd get this done," or, "If I had X amount of dollars, I'd be able to accomplish X." (I think that most people's major limitation gripes have to do with time or money, but of course, it could be something like, "If I had a smaller nose, more men would like me," or some such thing.)

While it's true that limitations narrow the range of possibilities for certain things in your life, it would by no means be utopia to have no limitations whatsoever. If you had endless time, you could get a lot done, but would you be motivated to? If you had a mountain of cash, you could buy whatever you wanted, but once you did, then what? Where would value come from?

We are accustomed to looking at our world in a very dichotomous way: black or white, love or hate, good or evil, rich or poor. We are, for the most part, always thinking in opposition, looking at one aspect or the other, but not able to hold the possibility for greater complexity in our minds.

But I submit that you could take even the most terrible seeming limitation and wring something out of it that you could argue is an opportunity. If you have an hour to yourself, and that's it, the opportunity to make that hour really count appears. If you don't have a lot of money, but want to achieve something, you must apply creativity to figure out how to do it anyway.

Will limitations make life less convenient for you? Probably. Might there be additional frustration? Likely so. But if struggle and frustration and limitation were the end of the line, would so many be attracted to life in New York City, or to art careers or to parenthood?

I believe we each have an inherent knowing (not always acknowledged) that we can thrive under limitation, and that in fact, we may even thrive because of limitation. My writing exercises impose limits, but they also get me to be more creative than I might be just staring at a blank page and asking, "Now what?" I am forced to find a good work-around to get started and keep going.

What I'd like you to do today is list your limitations. All the ones you can think of. Then, next to that list, I want you to list how each of those limitations could present an opportunity for greater creativity, motivation or achievement.

Hold the possibility in your mind that your limitations--whatever they may be--may in fact be your greatest assets in your quest to live a fuller, more blissful life.

"Happiness is not pleasure..."

Another wonderful piece in the New York Times today by Pico Iyer. (See this previous post for the last one.)

It's a look at the Dalai Lama, and his practical approach to achieving true happiness. I really appreciated this, especially since I hope to emphasize the practical in this blog. I know that I often deviate, and get going on the big ideas--because they excite me--but I am heartened to know that the advice I give about shifting attitudes and practicing new ways of perceiving the world is the kind of practical advice that the Dalai Lama would likely approve.

An excerpt:

The Dalai Lama I’ve seen is a realist (which is what makes his optimism the more impressive and persuasive). And he’s as practical as the man he calls his “boss.”

The Buddha generally presented himself as more physician than metaphysician: if an arrow is sticking out of your side, he famously said, don’t argue about where it came from or who made it; just pull it out. You make your way to happiness not by fretting about it or trafficking in New Age affirmations, but simply by finding the cause of your suffering, and then attending to it, as any doctor (of mind or body) might do.

I hope that the many posts I've offered here have helped to identify, analyze and isolate those arrows that cause suffering, and have inspired others to do what they can to pull them out. I love that the philosophy articulated above does not shun intellectual effort (such as analysis), nor is it passive, awaiting the intervention of some remote deity. I've always preferred prayer for guidance, rather than intervention, and the saying "God helps those who help themselves" to "Dear God, please help me."

Another excerpt:

I’ve been spending time for 18 years in a Benedictine monastery, and the monks I know there have likewise found out how to be delighted by the smallest birthday cake. Happiness is not pleasure, they know, and unhappiness, as the Buddhists say, is not the same as suffering. Suffering — in the sense of old age, sickness and death — is the law of life; unhappiness is just the position we choose — or can not choose — to bring to it.

Just last week, my yoga teacher demonstrated this approach. We were in Warrior II, and he had us hold the pose for quite a while. Eventually, a fire starts in the muscles. "Likely you're feeling a burn," he said. "But instead of popping out of it, what if you hold it, stay there, exploring that sensation? What if you look at it not as pain, but as a purifying effort?" I desperately wanted to release the pose, but considered if I could withstand the effort and do as he asked.

He went on: "Likely, this is not the worst pain you'll ever feel. Likely, at some point in your life, you will hurt much worse. How will you react?" His words rang true for me, especially now, as I approach childbirth. So, I stuck it out, figuring if I buckled from a tired quadricep, I'd never survive giving birth! What was interesting is that, like the above excerpt, I shifted my position toward the pain, and gained a great deal of mental (and physical) stamina and strength. And you know what? Once I did, the burn became more a curiosity, something to withstand and investigate, and less a source of suffering. I guess my point is, you can choose your pose toward suffering, and suffer less.

I think you'll enjoy Iyer's essay. Read the entire piece here.

I Was Wrong

I abandoned the blog, I abandoned my readers, and I abandoned my pursuit of bliss in a big mistake.

What happened? I made the all-too-common error of confusing bliss with livelihood. While I still maintain that our livelihoods should bring us satisfaction and even joy if we're lucky, our bliss does not rest anywhere external.

Fundamentally, bliss is gratitude and equanimity, even in the face of great challenges and long odds.

When the economy imploded last fall, I made the mistake of thinking that bliss would be unattainable for all of us. My business was suffering, and it hardly seemed to be the time to encourage others to leave paying work to pursue something insubstantial. That was a mistake, to a certain extent.

I now see, in retrospect, that the world's cycle is always rising and falling, falling and rising. We must not ride the outside of the wheel, must not be attached to fortunes or failures, but we must be at the center, at the hub. There we will find balance and peace and bliss.

So if you have a crappy job, it does not mean you cannot have bliss. If you have a great job, it does not mean you have bliss. Bliss only comes from finding the center in any circumstance, during any event.

So instead of asking, "What is bliss?", we should also ask, "Where is bliss?", and, "Who is bliss?" and, "Why is bliss?"

For me, after suffering a very strong re-action to the world's falling fortunes and struggles, I came to a place of detached observation. I still participate in the world--passionately at times--but without attachment to the outcome. Instead, I choose to act--not react--according to my own beliefs, principles and values. If the world challenges me, so be it. I am not here to please the world. I am here to be here. I am not exactly here to please myself, either. I am here to acknowledge and venerate my time here, make something of it that is in service to spirit and not ego.

I went to the Treasures of Tutankhamun exhibit recently, and was amazed by the glory of the ancient Egyptian society, now lost. The world as we conceive it--the trappings, the politics, the buildings and men--are all impermanent. But we can each profoundly know what is permanent--the blissful constant of the universe--because each of us contains that spiritual beauty.

Slave or pharaoh, merchant or priest, none of us individually can spin the wheel of fortune in our favor or out of our favor. But what actually turns the wheel? Isn't it the axle, moving through the wheel's center? As a centered, blissful being, even the slightest pressure--a leaning more than a push--has more power to move that wheel than does anything we might try at the wheel's rim.

What passes for power in the ephemeral world is simply force. Real power--and real bliss--emerges like a divine light in the middle of darkness, and it never uses force. Its ability to do good in the world can only--has ever only--come from its ability to inspire men.

Who Can You Thank Today?

And perhaps more importantly, who can you ask to thank you? A 3-minute video worth watching:

Mantra of the Day: Be of Service

As I've mentioned before, I get an awful lot out of going to yoga, even once a week. If you've never tried it, I heartily recommend it.

Each class begins by setting an intention. We either find some quality we want to cultivate--patience or playfulness or ease or whatever--or we dedicate the practice to someone. Sometimes we do both.

Then my teacher ends this portion by reminding us that "While it takes strength to make a vow, it invariably gives strength." So, when the going gets rough and my quads are burning or my backbend is kinda puny, I am reminded to rededicate my efforts to the person I'm offering my practice to.

What's amazing is that even though they are not there in the class with me, when I remember that I'm doing something for someone else, I do better, I try harder, I care more.

Once I recognized this, I decided to apply it in other areas of life. I try to remember that it is as important to serve others as it is to serve oneself. Indeed, it may be more important.

This isn't to say you should cast off everything and go work in a soup-kitchen for the rest of your life. Instead, I encourage you to repeat these words when your friend is down and you really need to be a good listener. Or when your spouse is sick and relying on you for simple tasks. (Hi honey!) When I find myself getting distracted or frustrated or self-absorbed, I say to myself: "Be of service."

This can often be all I need to perform a task with a more giving heart and a better attitude. It can also often help me feel empathy and see things from another point of view, which is crucial to self-development and growth.

Look for moments that are difficult where you can say to yourself "be of service" and see what changes for you.

Go In With Eyes Wide Open

I like to read medical and health news on pretty much any topic. I'm just kind of a nerd that way. So I was reading this New York Times piece yesterday with this headline: Regrets After Prostate Surgery. It's basically about men who are told that post-surgery, they will have a great chance at normal, ahem, function, but then find that they don't. The article then goes on to say:

The Duke researchers said that the study shows urologists need to communicate more carefully the risks and benefits of the treatment prior to surgery so that men have more realistic expectations of what to expect.

In other words, the doctors weren't properly defining what "function" meant, and so the numbers for normal function were, excuse the pun, inflated, and therefore misleading.

What does this have to do with following your bliss? Well, first of all, that quality of life is clearly important and worth prioritizing! But perhaps more importantly, that it's so crucial to have truly realistic, unbiased information before making a decision.

I remember when I began my research into the freelance world that I paid special attention to the warnings and cautions provided by those who had experience. Many of them said the same things: not a good choice if you're bad at time management or being alone. Lots of feast-and-famine cycles. Disadvantages in taxes and other cost outlays.

Some people are good at blocking out what they don't want to hear, because they think it might dissuade them from making a choice that they really want to make. I see this all the time, and it inevitably leads to disappointment. While information is no substitute for actual experience, at least I knew I would have bouts of loneliness, or that I'd have to pay more out of pocket for Social Security and taxes than my non-self-employed friends. I didn't like it, but I expected it, and was willing to make these trade-offs for the benefits.

Expectations have so much influence over your happiness in life. This isn't to say that the pessimists have it right--"If I have low expectations, I'll always be surprised when things go well," as they say--but rather that if you have properly analyzed the whole picture, you will be more ready to deal with the negatives when they inevitably come your way. Every job, every person, every choice has a downside. Every single one. It's whether you understand that before you commit to a decision that makes the difference.

So whether it's a spouse or a new career or even that adorable little puppy who would never, ever eat your favorite sweater (RIP, favorite sweater), examine all angles and prepare yourself. When the bad stuff crops up, it won't crush you like a meteor falling from the sky. Instead, you'll see it coming from far away, and because your eyes are open, it'll end up looking more like a shooting star that gives you the opportunity to move out of the way. Aware and protected from unrealistic expectations, you can more fully appreciate the beauty of the big picture.

Admitting Two Heads Are Better Than One

As are two bodies, two spirits, two lives. Everyone knows by now that Randy Pausch, who I have mentioned many times on this blog, has died from pancreatic cancer. When I got the news, I was not surprised, but deeply saddened nonetheless. After my initial feelings of sadness, I sent out into the universe prayers for his widow, children and those close to him who will have to now live without him.

In his book about the last lecture, there's a part that talks about what his wife says at the end of the speech. He writes that she whispered into his ear "Don't die." On a TV special a few months ago, she added that she had also said "All the magic will be gone."

As someone who is very grateful for her husband, these words resonate deeply for me. I love my husband, and can only imagine that without him, my world would seem considerably paler, flatter, more pedestrian. I also would not have been able to achieve all I've been able to without him, from the most mundane things to the most profound.

This post is not meant to be all pro-marriage or pro-coupling necessarily, but I can only offer what I know, so take that for what it's worth. What I know is that I can do more, I can feel more, I can understand more, and I can love more because of a partner, and specifically because of the wonderful partner that I have. (A giving and supportive and accepting and affectionate and hard-working and thoughtful and patient man. I'm not trying to canonize him here, but he's really great, and I'm very lucky.)

If you are not part of a couple or you are part of one that's not working, consider what is possible, and consider making a strong relationship one of your priorities. While romance is not essential--after all, our friends can certainly give us a lot-- something about the bond of real, selfless, committed love makes so much more possible. Including bliss following.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that two heads, two hearts and four hands unified and working for a common goal are greater than the sum of their parts. What they can accomplish is far more than I ever would have thought possible. For me, there is certainly magic at work.

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:

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.

The Sacred Place

I was flipping through my copy of Joseph Campbell's "The Power of Myth" today, when I came across this exchange:

Moyers: You write in "The Mythic Image" about the center of transformation, the idea of a sacred place where the temporal walls may dissolve to reveal a wonder. What does it mean to have a sacred place?

Campbell: This is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don't know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don't know who your friends are, you don't know what you owe anybody, you don't know what anybody owes to you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is the place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen.

Obviously, a sacred place could be an actual physical space--a room, a backyard cove, a nearby park. But I read this to include mental sacred spaces, such as those that are created through meditation, or time you carve out and defend ruthlessly. (As Randy Pausch advises.)

Wherever it is, find it. This place of "creative incubation" truly is necessary, and unfortunately is getting harder and harder to lay claim to, with technology, economic worries and endless news cycles. But see if you can find that place, because once you are there, no one can intrude. And that blissful solitude is something I think we can all benefit from.

Balance is a Dance

Spiral staircase at the Hotel Gerloczy in Budapest.

So many people are throwing out the term "work-life balance" these days, you may not even think much about what it means. Surely you know what balance is, and you know that it means that work and life should be split, and if you had to put a figure to the ratio, you would probably think of it as 50-50, right?


The trouble that most people have with this concept is that they see it in fixed terms, like a pie chart or an image of scales hanging in balance, motionless.

Why is this a problem? The moment you envision balance in your life as a fixed ideal is the moment you begin to get out of balance. Stand on one leg. Go ahead. Stand up right now and do it. If your balance is good, it shouldn't be much effort, though you'll probably feel your muscles making small adjustments to keep you upright. If a strong wind comes or someone brushes you on their way past, you will have to recalibrate to stay standing. You will waver a bit, maybe even sway, maybe even fall out of balance right before finding equilibrium again.

In this equilibrium, things appear motionless, fixed. But you know better--your muscles and body and brain are working in concert to keep you standing. Try to stand on one leg, but this time, close your eyes. Having trouble? It's very hard to stay balanced without the information from your eyes. Advanced yogis can do it, but it's not easy. In other words, real, intrinsic balance takes practice.

So, if things feel out of balance for you, don't despair if you're not living up to the pie chart of balance in your head that's 50% white and 50% black. Think of the symbol for yin and yang instead, and see the flowing lines and the bit of dark and white that dot the opposite halves. Observe the motion implicit in that symbol.

Realize that finding balance is not a fixed ideal, but a dance you practice. So you fall out of line a bit. That's OK. Dance back into balance, and don't worry too much about what you look like, or how perfectly your life is apportioned. Keep things moving. Feel the energy, gather information, keep dancing, and balance will follow.

And, for heaven's sake, don't mistake rigidity for balance.

Money, Bliss and Patriotism

While the three words above may not be obviously connected, I submit to you on this Wednesday before Independence Day that they are.

Joseph Campbell has asserted in many of his books that by saving yourself, you save the world. That by following your bliss, you become a force for life and vitality and positive change in the world, a light beating back the ever-encroaching darkness.

One of the things I've tried to highlight on this blog is the connection between money and bliss. Or, actually, that bliss is not dependent on money, and in fact, is squeezed out by its pursuit. Ironically, many of us spend our days worrying about making money because we are in debt, or because we want something material: a nicer car, a bigger house, a fancy handbag. Lest you think I sound self-righteous here, rest assured, I am not immune to the siren song of that fancy handbag. I want one, I really do.

But pursuing something if one cannot afford it is not wise. And so I stop. And I say, if I have money, I will buy the fancy handbag. But the handbag is not a goal. I do not want to make myself miserable for that handbag.

Unfortunately, many in our country--and in the world--have eyes only for the things they want. And so they either work jobs they hate to get those things, or they spend money they don't have (courtesy of our friends in the credit industry) to get those things.

And because no action comes without an associated reaction (thank you, elementary physics!), we can see here what the consequences are to making obtaining things our primary goal: misery or debt.

Thus starts the cycle. The cycle of servitude to a job you hate to pay the master (card) that owns you. Now, I'm not saying there aren't things we still need, and of course we'll always have bills to pay, and we'll always need to do work in exchange for some kind of wage.

The question is, how much choice do you have in that work, and how much freedom do you have if you need to walk away?

My argument is that it's patriotic to get yourself out of debt, or to aim for work that fulfills your soul rather than filling your living room or your closet. You may not much care for the idea of patriotism or loyalty to a nation, and that's fine. But it will be patriotic whether you call it that or not, and that's what matters. Save yourself, and in doing so, you save the world. It's a powerful idea.

Reduce your debt, eliminate your crushing dependence on your paycheck by eliminating unnecessary spending, and begin--even if only in your off hours--to plan for something more. To start writing or drawing or sewing or dancing or doing whatever it is that gives your heart and your mind ease.

I've often said that disease is an interesting word, since it is literally the "lack of ease." While you may be physically healthy, are you at ease with your life? Do you feel serenity and concentration when doing your work? Or are you suffering from a profound dis-ease that gnaws at you, that keeps you up at night, that makes you dream of high-priced handbags as a balm for your ills?

Diagnose your dis-ease. My bet is that it begins with money and work. Once you have real freedom again, once your work feels (and is!) in a way voluntary, once you have the flexibility to pay attention to other areas of your life, your family, your community, you will find wealth (in the narrow and broader sense of the word), happiness and health.

And as we celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence on Friday, I think you'll agree that the more people with those three things living next door, the better.

So go ahead, declare your own independence. And if you need some inspiration, the words below should help:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness...

Everything In Its Place

For the past week or so, I've been on a massive spring cleaning tear. I'm not the tidiest person, and while I know how to keep the places that matter clean--food out of the kitchen, grime out of the bathroom--I am notoriously bad when it comes to paper, books, magazines and really, most everything else.

I have several really big unmet goals for my life. Some are silly, and some may be noble, but among goals such as getting a book published, having kids, learning to speak Spanish, making a difference in the fight for our liberties, one kind of mundane one stands out: To be organized.

I've always envied people who are capable of carrying their slim little day planners or always remember to update their calendars, those people whose homes look like the Pottery Barn catalog (which I have a love/hate relationship with, if you must know), those people who seem to know what they're supposed to be doing next.

I don't know what finally lit the fire--maybe that fact that I'm running my own business now and I need to be on top of things or fail miserably, disappoint clients and generally make a mess of things--but I'm finally making a move on that organization goal.

But before I started in earnest, I seemed to be waiting for the advice that would make the difference for me. After all, it wasn't like I hadn't tried before. I'd bought day planners, only to have two weeks of the calendar filled with appointments and reminders (Buy birthday card, Dentist appt., Moving day!!!), or clear storage bins that I ended up using like portable junk drawers. No matter what scheme I investigated or tried, it all seemed overwhelming, complicated, too left-brained for my associative right-brained world.

And then I read this somewhere, though I'm not so organized yet that I can remember where, but this was what made the difference: Everything has its place.

Does this seem completely elementary to you? Because it made all the difference for me. It was not a file folder system or a cabinet of labeled bins. What it was, and what I needed, was a philosophy. Everything has its place. Eureka!

It was about recognizing the intrinsic function and use of an item, and deciding how to put that item in a place that maximized its functionality and use. And if that place didn't exist, it gave me the opportunity to evaluate: Do I need to create a place, or do I need this item at all?

I had a philosophical system that allowed me to make sense of the constellation of objects that seemed to continually and haphazardly orbit my household, floating through time and space with no grounding, no apparent home.

Now I know: books go on a bookshelf, magazines I keep in a magazine case or throw away. Office supplies are sorted and stored separately, on an office shelf or desk. Every single thing in my house has a place, and if not, its place is in the recycling bin, the donation pile or the trash.

Without investing in any kind of arbitrary system of organization and storage, I am actually kind of organized now. Kind of. And when I see something that belongs in the bathroom--sunscreen, or lip balm--on the kitchen counter, I think: That's not in its place. And instead of leaving it there, I return it to its proper home. So I'm neater now, and more consistently neat, than I used to be thanks to that simple little phrase.

I think "Everything in its place" is kind of a good philosophy for a lot of things, but will this increased organization help me be happier, experience more bliss, make me a better person? Has the moral superiority of the organized been justified all the while?

Honestly, maybe. Maybe that whole cleanliness is next to godliness group was on to something. I certainly feel less stress when I walk into an uncluttered room than a cluttered one. It's true what they say about the potential for our stuff to control us.

Objects don't just have physical weight, they also have psychic weight. The floor presses up on your foot when you press down, and when your gaze alights on a mess, that mess presses back. Cumulatively, it can begin to wear you down, keep you from all the other things you want to do in your life. Write a book. Have kids. Make a difference in your community.

When my office is finally done, I'll let you know if I have any transcendent insights about the connection between bliss and clutter. For now, I'm off to my version of the XXX News: I'm off to The Container Store.

It's Not You, It's Me

Do you believe in the intrinsic differences of human beings? Or do you think we're all pretty much alike, though maybe I like spinach and indie rock and you hate spinach and indie rock but love peas and classic country?

You can probably guess where I fall in this debate. I think that even though we're the same species, we have real, intrinsic differences of psychology and personality. We are not all suited to the same environments, the same expectations, the same cultures, the same societies. And when we don't quite fit, we suffer greatly in trying to do so.

For many years, this was my pattern: I'd get a job, enjoy it for a while, then something would happen and I'd slowly become miserable, and have to make a change. So I'd get another job, and then it would happen again. I'd grow bored or antsy, and my bosses would always turn on me because I was no longer content to keep doing what I was doing. For years, I thought it was my bosses' fault, and while I truly had some terrible ones, what I finally realized was this: Rabbits can breed in captivity, but dolphins can't (or rarely can).

That doesn't mean what you think it means, so get your mind out of the gutter. What I'm saying is that some animals' life force is so severely stressed and hampered by captivity that they stop functioning, even to their own detriment. I mean, if they get so bad off that their instinct for survival is shunted, that must mean that they--dolphins, pandas, certain birds, etc.--are wired very differently from rabbits and pigs and cows and other easily domesticated animals.

Languishing in the series of cubicles (cages) I inhabited, I felt suffocated, frustrated, hopeless.

I was a dolphin trying to breed (symbolically speaking, trying to create and propagate ideas) in captivity, and failing miserably. Free Tiffany! But no movie crew would be interested, since there are millions of us like this. Who cares, they might ask--why can't you just suck it up and be like the rest of society?

And I tried. I really did. I didn't want to be different, and I wanted things to be easy, which is probably why I was in denial so long about it being the job or the boss, and not me.

But it was me. It was my fault, my problem, my responsibility. And no one could fix it but me. No one was going to break me out of my confines, no activists were lobbying for my release. I had to free myself, and to do so meant that I had to honor who I really was.

I know I am Homo sapiens, but I may--like so many of you--be a subspecies: Homo sapiens independensis. We chafe under captivity, we wither under watchful eyes, we choke ourselves on chains trying to break free.

So here we are: admitting we need something different. So if that doesn't work--if the cubicle existence slowly kills us--what conditions allow us to thrive?

Here's my list, but feel free to add to it:

• Freedom to create
  
• Autonomy over our work
  
• Freedom from surveillance
  
• An environment of trust and honor
  
• An ethical environment
  
• Flexibility to design our schedules and our projects
  
• Respect for our fundamental humanity
  
• Respect for our differences
  
• An environment of fairness and justice
  
• Time to explore, investigate and satisfy our curiosity
  
• Ability to express emotion and feeling without fear of repercussion
  
• An environment that values and appreciates our contributions
  

As you may notice, this doesn't just apply to work. It applies to relationships, to governments, to friendships. How so many people manage to survive under conditions so unlike these is beyond me.

So honor who you are. If you don't fit in the environment you're in, don't blame your boss, even if she really is an A-Number One Bitch. Sure, she may be a tyrant, but she could be all sweetness and light, and unless the conditions above are satisfied, you won't do well. If you are the dolphin and not the rabbit, find your way out of the cage and out into the open ocean. Sure, there are predators out there, but what kind of a life is the caged one?

I'll leave you with this excerpt--a passage that changed my life--from a conversation Joseph Campbell had with Michael Toms in the book "An Open Life":

"There are two ways of living a mythologically grounded life. One way is just to live what I call 'the way of the village compound,' where you remain within the sphere of your people...There are, however, people who feel this isn't the whole story...It's inevitable that a person with any sense of openness to new experience will say to himself, 'Now, this won't do, the way we're living.'

On the other hand, there's plenty of reason for those who don't have this feeling to remain within the field because our societies today are so rich in the gifts they can render. But if a person has had the sense of the Call--the feeling that there's an adventure for him--and if he doesn't follow that, but remains in the society because it's safe and secure, then life dries up. And then he comes to that condition in late middle age: he's gotten to the top of the ladder, and found that it's against the wrong wall.

If you have the guts to follow the risk, however, life opens, opens, opens up all along the line. I'm not superstitious, but I do believe in spiritual magic, you might say. I feel that if one follows what I call one's "bliss"--the thing that really gets you deep in the gut and that you feel is your life--doors will open up. They do! They have in my life and they have in many lives that I know of."

So it's not them, it's you. But contrary to what they'll try to convince you of, that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a very, very good thing.

Your fellow dolphin,
Tiffany

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Mantra of the Day: "Not Helpful."

OK, so I hope you followed my recommendation and watched the Randy Pausch special on ABC two nights ago.

I am continuously amazed by the perspective Randy offers the world, which is a perspective that seems not borne from only this bad situation; instead, he seems to think differently than the rest of us, and trust me, it's a good kind of different. I feel blessed to have had the benefit of his thoughts and perspectives as they've been shared with the world via his lecture and now his book.

But what I learned from the special, and what I didn't know, was what a different, special kind of woman he has for his wife. I was also inspired by Jai Pausch, and by her ability to find peace and perspective in the midst of the unlucky reality of Randy's cancer.

She said something that I think we can all learn from, no matter how good or how bad our situations are. She said that when she first learned of the diagnosis that she would see her husband playing with the kids in the snow, and would think, "That's maybe the last time he'll play with his kids in the snow," and that would lead her to a whole new round of crying.

Eventually, after a lot of crying, she went to a therapist, who she says told her to not let tomorrow ruin today.

Brilliant insight number one! When I was living far away from my boyfriend (now my husband), he'd often come and visit me for long weekends. And the first day was always magical, a feeling like my missing half had been restored. But as time went on, thoughts crept in: only 2.5 days left, only one more day left, only half a day left. And I would begin to mourn for his departure, even though he was sitting right next to me.

I had let the future ruin the present. I don't know if this is a sin or anything, but it seems like it should be. Something like "Thou Shalt Not Squander Thine God-given Present" or what have you. Really. Wasting the moment you have is really an affront to the universe.

Brilliant insight number two from Jai Pausch's therapist was this: Whenever you hear your thoughts going down that path--the present-squandering path of worry or anxiety--repeat to yourself: Not helpful.

Not helpful! What power in those two little words! Whenever you're angry because your boss has wronged you, ditch the anger, and focus on improving your situation. Why? Because your anger is not helpful. Whenever you're mourning for a departure not yet come, recognize and embrace the time you do have. Why? Because your mourning is not helpful.

Anger and mourning and sadness may have their place of course, but very rarely do worry and anxiety. Usually they just make us feel bad and helpless.

So the next time you notice your mind consumed with worries, fears, anxieties and emotions that are burdening you and preventing you from working to enjoy what you have or change your situation through action, repeat it with me: Not helpful.

So what is helpful? Acceptance. Your boss is a jerk? Accept it. Your husband is dying? I don't know how it's possible (and I hope and pray I never have to find out), but somehow you must accept it.

It seems to me that accepting something is like being handed a special kind of eyeglasses. Before you had them, what you couldn't see simply wasn't there for you, but once on, you see a path, new to you, but one that had been there all along. A path that is only revealed through the transformation of acceptance, and a path that once seen, must be taken.

Incidentally, that path is there for you alone, meaning each of our journeys will be so separate as to make comparison worthless. So don't try. So what if someone else did this or that after they lost their job, and so what if when so and so had a baby they were depressed/joyous/neurotic. There may be some use in comparing yourself to someone else, but if there is, I haven't found it yet.

So, the take home message is, if you're worrying about a lot of stuff that hasn't happened, or you're trapped in a rut of unhelpful thinking, quit it, because you're pissing off the universe. And a pissed off universe is a universe unlikely to give you any bliss.

I hope you found this post helpful. If so, subscribe here.

Your Bliss-Finding Assignment: Watch TV Tonight

I'm not normally a giant TV fan, but it has its uses!

Do you remember my post from a long time ago about Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture"?

Well, there's an ABC special on tonight at 9 p.m. Central that I think you should watch.

Diane Sawyer talks with Randy Pausch about the impact of his lecture, and while I don't know exactly what they'll discuss, my guess is that if Randy Pausch is involved, you'll come away feeling inspired, grateful and motivated.

So watch it, and let's discuss it back here tomorrow. Now, if only all assignments were so easy... :-)