Category Archives: Grace

I love gratitude and I love lists

27 Tuesday Aug 2013

Posted by in Family, Grace, gratitude, Health, Living, Spirituality

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journal

I have several bad habits. Chewing on ice is one of them. But I have another bad habit that is even more dangerous than the possibility of a cracked molar.

I have a habit of thinking that the moment I say “Wow – things are good!” that a vengeful god with a head shaped like a yin-yang symbol is going to appear and hand-deliver pancreatic cancer to everyone I love. I don’t know why I think this, but I’m perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. (Brene Brown talks a lot about this – and apparently I’m not alone with this horrible habit.)

But here’s the thing I’m trying to realize. Bad things might happen. Or they might not. Regardless, I don’t think it makes sense to go through life ignoring the good things in a feeble attempt to keep the bad things at bay. I’m just happier when I am grateful and when I recognize all the joyful things in my life. So, come what may – and I’ll say thank you for it.

So, that’s why it’s important for me to keep a gratitude journal. With everything that’s been going on, it’s easy to get caught up, overwhelmed and forget about the little things that are so integral to my happiness.

I’ve been writing a lot recently. I spend most of my life in my home office, typing away, with Grace at my feet. (As I write this, I have not left my house in FOUR days, with the exception of walking the dog.)

Lest this sound like complaining, let me assure you that I am totally thrilled about this situation. Lots of awesome writing-related things are going on and it’s downright dreamy.

However, at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is more writing. I’m drained.

But you know what I’m never too tired for? Lists. I love lists.

Lists make everything so clean and clear and uncomplicated. And if there is any way for that list to be numbered??? Fantastic. It rights my world and makes me feel like I can handle anything – as long as it’s in list form.

Since writing a journal seems like more energy than I can muster before bed, so I’ve been keeping a gratitude LIST! Perfect. The basic outline looks like this:

8/27/13 – Today I am grateful for: 

1.

2.

3.

4. 

5. 

Isn’t that easy?

So, I’d like to offer up this idea to anyone who might be feeling a little stuck or ungrounded. It settles my heart right before going to sleep when I write out 5 things that I’m grateful for in that moment. It’s often the health of my family. Sometimes it’s that the Chinese place delivers. It tends to be mixture of the profound and the practical.

But it always makes me feel good to know that I am ending my day with one solid thought – a heartfelt thank you for this life.

And I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to get nervous and look over my shoulder after I say it.

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The day of Grace

02 Tuesday Apr 2013

Posted by in Grace, gratitude, Spirituality, Yoga

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Grace

Two years ago today, J and I walked into the SPCA, just to “look.”

We walked out with my guru.

She was a malnourished little mutt with claws so long they wrapped around and dug into the pads of her feet. She didn’t know how to play. The sound of clapping made her cower. She had terrible nightmares that left her snarling and whimpering in her sleep. Life had not been easy for this dog.

Even with that history, no one in my life has taught me more about stillness, joy, acceptance, love and indeed, grace, than Grace.

We almost didn’t adopt her. The information sheet hanging on the door of her cage read “senior.” We couldn’t imagine enduring the loss of her so soon. But one look into her blue eye, and then her brown eye, and we knew that whatever time we had with her was worth it.

We joyfully surrendered to the unknown.

When I stand in the middle of my yoga mat, I often take a moment of stillness to devote my practice to Grace. I want to show my gratitude for all that she has taught me about getting over the stuff that I hold on to from my own past. She is a master class is being present. She is the living example of everything that I try to access by bringing yoga into my life.

Happy birthday, Grace. Thank you for finding us.

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Life lessons from a dog: snake bite

11 Tuesday Sep 2012

Posted by in Grace, Living, Meditation, Spirituality

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The patient recovers

Grace was bit by a snake. (She is fine.)

It came out of nowhere. One minute, we were having a nice walk, the next minute she was bleeding profusely from her face and there was a snake coiled on the path.

I panicked. She was whimpering and clawing at her face and there was blood.

A lot of blood.

But somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I had to take a breath and think. There was a calm inner voice that told me I had to take a close look at the snake – I had to be able to identify it.

I got her back to the house, dripping blood all through the front hall and I put her into the car. The inner voice reminded me how to get to the vet and stop at red lights.

This is not to say I was calm, cool and collected the whole time. There were many moments when I favored freaking out over breathing. The most notable moment being when I was trying to call Husband on the way to the vet and I thought the phone wasn’t working. I was swearing my head off, cursing at my phone and J was on the line saying “Hello? Hello?” in response to my flurry of filth.

But the point is, when I could find the moment to stop swearing and breathe – there was stillness underneath all that panic. When I paused for a second, there was that voice that said:

“Hey! You! Stop flapping your arms uselessly, here’s what you need to do next…”

When I could stop and access it, there was a peaceful inner sense that was leading me the right way. It was always there for me. I just needed to be still enough to hear it.

It’s great to be in the moment and breathe when you have candles lit, a comfy cushion and softly ringing bells. But remembering to give yourself that space to breathe and listen, and not just react mindlessly when something unexpected happens – that is the true goal.

It’s also the biggest challenge.

I don’t like surprises – even so-called “good” surprises. But sometimes they are unavoidable. Sometimes life throws a snake in the path and you have to try to deal with it gracefully.

My girl is doing fine; the snake was non-poisonous. She is on an antibiotic and painkillers that make her a little sleepy; a great excuse for cuddling on the couch with mom and dad.

I am reminded that things can change in a moment. I might as well be in the moment with all of it.

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Life lessons from a dog: luxury

07 Tuesday Aug 2012

Posted by in Grace, gratitude, Living, Spirituality

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Grace loves pillows.

She uses them like a person. She will spend inordinate amounts of time fluffing and arranging so that her head has a soft, elevated place to lay. She makes no excuses for this. This is her treat, her luxury, and she will work for it without feeling selfish or needing to justify herself.

How do you take care of yourself?

I love incense. However, I rarely use my favorite one because it’s “too special” even though it’s readily available and about 12 cents a stick. That is totally ridiculous.

I love taking a super hot bath and drinking a half-frozen peach mango Vita Coco while reading Tricycle Magazine – but I rarely make time for it. Other stuff just gets in the way.

We love to be busy in this country. We’ve decided that if we are running around like headless chickens, that means that we are important. If you haven’t seen this New York Times article, The Busy Trap, it’s worth a look. This paragraph is one of my favorites:

“Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.” – Tim Kerider

I find a busy day to be ugly, stressful and (as Tim Kerider points out) socially constructed and almost entirely self-imposed. I much prefer a full day. That has a distinctly different flavor to it. A full day is a beautiful, satisfying and mindful thing. A full day schedules in that integral idleness.

We also tend to think that it is selfish to do something for ourselves, just because it makes us happy. We relegate it to a restricted time, (that’s something I do on vacation, or just a weekend treat) or we forget to do it all together, because other obligations seem more pressing. Maybe we’ve been told that our personal luxury is silly or a waste of time.

It’s not.

It’s the reward to our soul for getting through the day. It’s the little self hug of encouragement. It’s the gratitude for the body that moves us through the world. It’s a moment of mindfulness and stillness amongst the chaos. And it’s crucial.

Gracie gets it. Then she reminds me. Good dog.

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Life lessons from a dog: feel the fear

18 Friday May 2012

Posted by in Grace, Living, Spirituality

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We’ve had some challenging times around here lately.

Spring in Virginia means thunderstorms. Grace is terrified of thunderstorms.

She panics and trembles and is only partially consoled by wearing her Thundershirt (I know it looks silly but it’s based on the fact that babies and autistic folks feel better wrapped. Did you see Temple Grandin? Remember the Squeeze Machine?)

I don’t know exactly what is on her mind, but judging by the fact that she plasters her ears to the side of her head — it’s not good. She is worried. Really worried. So, I wrap her up and try to tell her it’s all going to be O.K., even though she doesn’t believe it. She thinks the world is ending.

I must admit she comes by this dark outlook honestly.

I have the tendency to get overwhelmed by the world, too. I try to stay informed about the state of the planet; famines, wars, appalling stories out of everywhere from North Carolina to North Korea….then I just wish I could stick my head back in the sand. Even the first 15 minutes of Whale Wars: Viking Shores sent me into a spiral of despair.

When I spiral, I re-run all the suffering in my own life – the friends I’ve lost far sooner than I wanted; to cancer, lupus, AIDS and for no known reason at all. I worry about the terrible things that could happen to the people I love and I wait for the other shoe to drop. How do we live in a world full of so much pain?

There is no easy answer. The best one I can find is the Buddhist’s reply.

The First Noble Truth:

Life is dukkha.

What is dukkha? It’s pain. Stress. Suffering. Anxiety. We all have it. It’s an integral part of life and it ain’t going anywhere. Ignoring doesn’t work; trust me, I’ve tried.

I think I’m still in the phase of stomping my feet and whining “Why?? It’s not supposed to be like this!” I think that’s the step Gracie is at, too, as she pouts and stares out the window, cursing the lightning.

It is only when we have the courage to face things exactly as they are without any self deception or illusion that a light will develop out of events by which the path to success may be recognized. 

-I Ching

So, we deal with ourselves gently and try to accept that First Noble Truth. Once we get a handle on that reality, we can mindfully chose how to react and then we can work to improve our own little corner of the universe. We can appreciate the moments that are dukkha-free and we express even more joyful gratitude for them.

But it’s a challenge to get to that point of acceptance. So, while we work on that, we just wrap ourselves up tight and wait for the storm to pass.

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Slowing to beach time

20 Friday Apr 2012

Posted by in Environmental, Family, Grace, Spirituality, Travel, Yoga

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Last week, I went to visit my grandma in North Carolina. It’s always wonderful to go to the beach; everything just seems to slow to a pace that feels more natural. Sure, some might call it lazy, but lazy seems to work for me.

And it’s not just me. I watched our neighbors mindfully feed a flock of gulls for about half an hour. They ripped small pieces of bread and fed them by hand as they swooped from the sky; that was their big plan for the afternoon. I took a cue from that and adopted the leisurely beach vibe.

I drank green tea from giant, flowery mugs while being embarrassed by grade school photos of myself. I wonder why I don’t wear mustard turtlenecks anymore?

I watched Gracie breathe in the sea air.

I loved my daily moving meditation.

I ate ugly delicious tomatoes from the veggie wagon down the street.

I watched the wind blow the sea grass on the dunes.

It was a lovely few days, full of stories of my grandma’s days as a newspaper woman and her around-the-world travels with my grandfather. I ditched the To Do List and curled up with my book…which, as often as not, morphed into a nap.

It’s nothing new to talk about peace, simplicity and slowness at the beach. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

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Dreaming about the future without killing the present

20 Tuesday Mar 2012

Posted by in Grace, gratitude, Living, Yoga

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Where we live is pretty suburban. We don’t have a ton of the natural world around us and while I’d like to have more, it makes me appreciate the nature that does appear.

Like this fellow, who showed up on my porch last Sunday afternoon.

The day before our amphibian friend came to visit, we had gone out to the country to look at a plot of land and dream. Husband, Dog and I stood amongst the rolling acreage and debated the ideal orientation for the kitchen window. A gentle spring breeze rustled Grace’s fur as she trounced through tall grasses. It was glorious.

This relocation is not happening any time soon, which is something that I might have found very unsettling in the past. I used to be one of those people for whom dreaming meant an inherent feeling that the present moment was inadequate. But this jaunt to the country allowed me to dream about what could be in the future, while also appreciating where we are now.

While country life appears idyllic, living further out means a longer commute, being farther from necessities (i.e. yoga), doing more work tending the land and spending more money we don’t currently have.

The neighborhood where we live now is new and easy and has a startling amount of sameness which is either comforting or disconcerting. Neither the trees or the neighbors have had time to really put down their roots and become established. However, having grown up in Victorian houses, having a working HVAC system and windows that are not painted shut is an exciting novelty. From our living room, we have a panoramic view of the town I love; the town where Husband and I have created our life together.

Of course I am momentarily stabbed with the desire to have my farm now, longing to stand in the perfectly placed kitchen window gazing out at the three-rail fencing. However, I soon remember the joy in loving and respecting the wonderful things I have now; like the frog on my front porch. Living here is fun now, maybe rolling acreage and a long drive to the grocery store will be fun later.

Dreaming doesn’t have to create restlessness, it doesn’t need to rob me of peace in the present moment. It just opens up the world of possibilities. I am finally learning how to dream.

What are you dreaming about these days?

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Life lessons from a dog: accepting the past

21 Tuesday Feb 2012

Posted by in Family, Grace, Spirituality

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My sweet rescue dog is haunted by her old life.

Literally.

She has frequent and terrible nightmares.

My other dogs had active dreams. The feet run, the jaws twitch excitedly; classic chasing-the-bunny dreams.

This is different. Grace trembles and shakes. She snarls and pulls her lips back to bare her teeth. She barks and cries out. It’s heartbreaking to watch and we wake her gently, calling her new name and bringing her back to her new life.

As someone who suffers from nightmares that send me running screaming out of my bedroom, I can relate.

We all have things in our lives that our subconscious stubbornly clings to. We can think we are fully immersed in our new reality but often, something from the Bad Old Days remains. Whether it’s as common as the frantic feeling of being lost and late to class or something deeper and more painful, our dreams love to delve back into those memories. Wound, open. Salt, everywhere.

We are all wounded, by something.

That’s why we need to do the hard work of acknowledging the past for all it’s joys and disappointments and let it go. Accepting our lessons and grieving the losses. Forgiving and moving on.

Everything that has ever happened to Grace – or to me, or to you – has gone into the wonderful concoction that makes a unique soul. When we can thank these experiences for what they brought, both good and bad, we can heal and begin to trust the moment we are in.

Because this moment is exactly as it should be, just like all the others before it.

We can all get there, with some time and patience. Grace, too.

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Life lessons from a dog: shifting light

27 Friday Jan 2012

Posted by in Grace, Living, Meditation, Spirituality

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Gracie lies in the sunny spot.

As I sit in my writing room, my muse curls up next to me. But the sun slowly drifts away from her every twenty minutes or so.

She opens her eyes when she realizes she is in darkness. She sighs. She looks around for where the sun has gone. Ah, it’s over there now, by the chair.

She’s been in a deep sleep, so getting up takes some effort. She shakes, stretches the front legs, then the back legs and moves over to the sun.

She digs, twirls and gets her spot just right. It takes effort. It takes time. Sometimes she will settle and the light will be too directly in her eyes. She needs to adjust again.

But it’s worth it. It’s worth the time and effort to move out of the darkness and into the light. She only needs to be aware that it’s time to shift. She is not annoyed that the sun doesn’t stay on her permanently, she will sacrifice some energy to make it better for herself. She doesn’t wallow in the shadows. She just shifts.

She knows the light is still there, it’s just in a slightly different place.

She knows she can find it again.

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Stillness training

06 Friday Jan 2012

Posted by in Grace, Meditation, Spirituality

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I stopped by the Whole Foods the other day to pick up some groceries. It was lunchtime and it seemed everyone in town had the same idea. Through the chaos, I grabbed some broccoli and was heading to the olive oil section when I almost tripped over something.

Right there, lying next to the organic bananas, was a dog. A service dog in training. His person was there next to him, just watching him.

The dog was being trained to be still. He was still even when a screaming kid stomped by him. Even when a cart almost ran over his tail. Even when avocados were being unloaded over his head. Even when someone came to talk to his person and stopped the steady flow of treats.

He was learning to be still, because that is the hardest thing of all.

But stillness is the thing that saves us. It makes living in this world of commotion possible. Stillness makes it possible to see what is truly important. Stillness makes us alive.

I wish my mind would still so beautifully, with just the promise of some liver flavored snacks.

Good dog.

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