​I’m straddling life right now.  Are you?  Anticipating the changing of the guards.  Two weeks into a new year that sets expectations that things will be different. That I should be different. Not wanting to own any big changes within me. Not wanting the changes happening out there. Feeling like I should rise up more than ever before, while I’m typing this from the comfort of my bed.
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Yes, I’m psychologically straddling forward movement while digging in my heels.

My thirteen year old approached me on January 2 and said, “Mom, we never talked about New Year’s resolutions.”  I must admit I consciously chose not to have this typical January conversation.  Maybe it was because I’ve lost interest in setting them based on my track record.  Maybe it’s because New Year’s resolutions seem to take on a different degree of importance given the backdrop of world events. It’s no longer enough to want to exercise more.  I feel I should be setting loftier goals.  

I love what my daughter chose for herself, “I’m going to do me.  And I think you should do you, Mom.”

What a powerful idea! To focus on being your most authentic best self.  Is there any better goal for the year?

So, if I take on her friendly challenge to "Do Me" then the next question is, what exactly is my most authentic self?  Does authentic mean the part of ourselves that never changes? When I shine the spotlight on myself, the parts of me that come most quickly into focus have the most repetitive narrative. They are the soft part of myself that I constantly feel the need to shape and get right.

In order to "Do Me",  I first have to embrace this part and polish it until it shines.  I need to hold up my whimsical, nonlinear, no-revenue-making, teary-eyed, chasing inspiration, around-in-circles, self and take Kamal Ravikant’s advice to, “Love myself like my life depended on it.”

So let me ask you; can you fully own, love, even cherish the parts of yourself that seem to go around in circles?  The parts of yourself that don’t change? Is it possible that these parts are supposed to be a constant because they are your authentic core?

I’m reading a fascinating book, The Fourth Turning, in which historians explain the three structures of time that have evolved, starting with Chaos, where there is no rhyme or reason to events.  This quickly shifted to a Cyclical concept of time where humanity learned patterns of seasons, nature, and life cycles. In this structure, there was an honoring of past ancestors and future generations and an awareness that our lives play a part of a bigger collective journey.  With the advent of industry modern man has moved into a Linear model of time where we over-focus on achievement and short-term individual betterment at the detriment of caring for the whole.  It’s an interesting way to think about our own beliefs that self-improvement is necessary to be able to plot “growth” along a timeline.

What if we enter 2017 with a sense of deepening ourselves rather than changing ourselves?  What if we “go back at it”, letting our sameness generate a sense of peace and wholeness, rather than resignation or frustration?  If "You Do You”  and “I Do Me" well then we are adding to the collective gifts of this world without having to be everything.  Our cycle on this earth will bear great harvest.

This year I will love the softest parts of myself.  I will tend to this love with greater commitment.  I will deepen my practice of self-compassion and self-knowledge in order to grow strong in my heart.  This will propel me forward in all the ways I can contribute the most from my authentic core . . . in ways that the world needs most.

My heart will find a voice.  My heart will find the time.  My heart will find the courage. My heart will find the feet to turn thoughts into action.  This action will come from the inside out: not from setting a pre-defined goal, but instead from living moment by moment with a sense of my place in this world.

From the words of Mary Oliver, “You too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
 
Blessings,
Amy

We only had fifteen minutes.  “I think we can do this,” I said as we parked our car in the bus station parking lot.  My husband and I hopped out and headed for a lone boulder in the overgrown grass, with comb and scissors in hand.  Alex needed a haircut before returning to San Francisco from Tahoe.  I’ve been cutting his hair for years.

As I worked diligently to finish before the bus arrived a woman approached us, “I don’t know who you are, where you are from, or what you are doing, but would you please give me a haircut?” 

She went on to explain in a shaky voice that she had lost her house and her husband to cancer ten months ago.  Carmelle was living in her van and was about to collect survivor benefits the next day. 

“I just want bangs like I used to have and this weight off of my shoulders.”

How could I say no? 
 
So she took her place on the rock.  I warned her, “You know I’m not formally trained and the wind is blowing pretty hard.”

“Just do it. Please.  I trust you.”  

Each time I asked her for guidance she replied, “I trust you. Do what you think is right.”

In between the silence and her sharing her story of their loving marriage and her hard knocks, she would break into tears, “I can’t believe you are doing this for me.”

I took a big gulp as I cut four inches away from her eyes. 

“You know I used to have dishwater blond hair.  Can you see my roots?”  

I could see her roots, the hardship of the years in her lined face, and the weight she was carrying being lifted with each inch I took off. 

I gave her a final hug and a wish for a lighter new chapter that matched her hair.  She crossed the parking lot, hopped back into her van, and took a peek into her rear view mirror.  I held my breath.  

Carmelle's wide smile and a big thumbs up are still clear in my mind. 

So is the weight of her desperate request. 

We all carry weight. Most of it is hidden from others; we feel it’s ours alone to bear. That impromptu haircut on the boulder showed me that we all can lift the weight of another. We both needed courage: she needed to step out of the van and ask; I needed to say yes and try.

Then came ease . . . connection . . . support . . . relief and an opening to new possibilities.  How can you lift the weight of another?  How can others support you?

What is your definition of balance? For example, do you see balance as a horizon or a daily activity?  Is it a feeling or a technique?  Is it more about saying no to others or building a greater capacity to say yes to yourself?

I have learned from exploring themes around balance with many women in my Delight programs, that balance is very personal. 

I was recently interviewed by Balanced Mom Magazine. It was a moment of reflection in my own journey.  Claiming to be a balanced mom is not easy, no matter how much you formally study it or informally work at it.  Feeling balanced can be as elusive as feeling your full beauty, competence, or courage.  The term balancing “act” makes complete sense, doesn’t it?  

For me, balance is a practice of creating space for mindfulness and renewal, managing the quality and quantity of your energy and growing in self compassion.  Together they create a center within us that becomes our axis.

My favorite yoga teacher, Charu Rachlis, once shared the metaphor, "Finding your center is like throwing clay on a potter’s wheel. It is the most difficult part of the process, but once you find your center, it’s what allows you to keep your symmetry, no matter how fast the wheel of life spins."

Here are a few more of my favorite Balance Seeds of Wisdom from some of my favorite teachers

• "It’s important to hold a strong enough sense of self  that life never feels bigger than you are." -- Michele McAdams, Jefferson Elementary School Social Worker

• "Balance is not an endpoint in itself but rather a tool of flexibility that you apply as you work towards what’s most important to you."  -- Jenn Beverage, Life Coach

• "You must push down in order to stand up. Grounding is a critical part of healing." -- Brad Yantzer, Human Form, Function and Energy Healer

• “Poets have never used the word balance for good reason . . .  It’s too obvious and therefore untrustworthy; it is also a deadly boring concept and seems to speak as much to being stuck and immovable, as much as harmony.”  -- David Whyte, The Three Marriages. New York: Riverhead Books, 2009.

It started with trying to drive my daughter to school with my contacts in the wrong eyes, capped with needing to open the refrigerator three times to get out the salmon for dinner (never seemed to grab the right thing), and ended with my daughter finally finding my cell phone on the trampoline. Go figure.

It was truly a Give a Pig a Pancake, attention deficit, perimenopausal day.  I don’t imagine I’m alone.

Haven’t we all perfected the state of Scattered with increasing life responsibility, logistics overload, lack of sleep, the downpour of social media, and imploding inboxes.

Then there are our hormones. How do we distinguish the cause of Scattered among the possible symptoms of:

• “Decreased alertness” from our monthly cycle
• “Difficulty concentrating and memory lapses” during our path to menopause
• “The inability to cope with stress and fuzzy thinking” from adrenal fatigue
• “Impaired working and spacial memory” of chronic stress
• “Mental fog”, an official symptom of thyroid disfunction, (my personal favorite)

There’s no escaping it!

I know you know this already but as the week continues let’s try to commit it to memory (not an easy task):

• It’s not a personal problem. It’s societal.

• It’s okay to stop.  Literally stop.

• You don’t have to hide when you stop.  You can actually tell your boss, your team, your family what you need. They usually see your short circuit coming way before you do.

• Feeling guilty when you stop is personal. It’s between you and your superwoman self.  No one can squash that feeling but you.

• It doesn’t take much. Five minutes ~ set the timer, often.

• Know what works. Cleaning out your inbox on your “break” doesn’t. Grounding requires going inward, shutting out stimuli, finding stillness, shifting your breath. Try literally getting grounded horizontally. Conference room floors work too!

• Be the change: a cliche, but true. Model the self care that the world needs.  Be courageous at work.  Teach your children the life skill of self monitoring and self care by example.

Today I’m ready for more focus, more tasks, more clarity.  I know another wave of Scattered will arrive in the future.  I also know the more often we identify Scattered, care for Scattered, and give it the space and pace to dissipate, the faster we get back on track.  

By track, I don’t mean the treadmill.  I mean a conscious path of self compassion and resilience.

It’s a part of life that we always know is there. Sometimes we need it more than others. Sometimes we are the one who is needed.  Friendship.  Women supporting, knowing, celebrating each other.

Our friends offer a space for deep honesty, to try on different dreams, test our own ability to love unconditionally and continue to practice receiving.

This weekend I found myself curled up on my couch with two wonderful friends for a spontaneous, very brief, but very real sharing. I realized that I am being held up all the time by my girlfriends’ unspoken understanding of what it means to be a woman; now, here, in all of its beauty and complexity.

And when I want to shrink, it’s my friends who are most able to help me find sure footing and continue to grow.

It is that historical, powerful, yet quiet truth of women supporting women that helps our world stay afloat in the worst of times.  Now more than ever it is taking shape beyond personal friendships to a global movement of women knowing we all need to be a collective strength in order to see any shift happen for our next generation.

My wise friend Shasta Nelson, the CEO of GirlFriendCircles.com, shares so eloquently in her blog,

“Friendships let us practice being the people this world needs. We can practice:
*   cheering for people even when we’re jealous.
*   listening even when we think we’re right.
*   empathy even when we’re tempted to judge.
*   serving even when we’re busy.
*   saying “I forgive you” even when we’re disappointed.”

I think these are beautiful reasons to practice mindful friendships. Shasta also has a new book that launches today! – Friendships Don’t Just Happen!, The Guide to Creating a Meaningful Circle of Girlfriends. I was just at her book signing last night. Check it out!

It’s not often we take time to honor our friendships.  I hope some time, during this month of love, you do.  And remember, as my teabag told me this morning, the whole world becomes your friend when you practice compassion.

Blessings,
Amy      

PS. Join me on V-Day, February 14, along with hundreds at City Hall in San Francisco or at an event near you to dance as part of One Billion Rising, a movement to end violence against women around the globe.

It really works.  Our Thanksgiving holiday is an annual built-in pause for gratitude.  Full tummies, time with loved ones, vacation days giving space for reflection, lovely autumn weather, Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving on TV reminding us of the Pilgrims’ quest for freedom, which we still benefit from today. Really, it’s perfect.

And we know we need it.  There is more and more research on the power of purposefully focusing on our blessings.  It shifts our biochemistry, health and emotional well being. We want to operate from this place.  It sounds good, so we make it a goal.  It feels good, so we periodically practice.

And on days like Thanksgiving, we stay in it. Can you feel this shift in yourself over this holiday? Expansion, energy, joy, patience, balance?

The space for reflection in my own life brought forward an interesting question.  Once we’ve landed in gratitude, what’s next?

My immediate answer was, “Action!”  I need to share my blessings . . .  partially out of desire, part obligation.  My husband and I have dug a little deeper into our pockets, responding to the year-end invitations to give.  I am volunteering at  Macy’s kitten window today with my daughters.  I reached out to make sure my circle of family felt my love.  It all felt good.  Appropriate.  Natural.

Yet the question hasn’t gone away. What’s after gratitude?

This morning I woke up with a different answer ~ Peace.

If practicing gratitude is a means, then I believe the endpoint is peace.   Peace that comes from lifting up out of our own place of scarcity, comparison, and suffering.  Gratitude gives us extra capacity for peace.  We are more able to be compassionate, to understand the truth of others, to share ourselves.

I always wished Thanksgiving wasn’t so close to the Christmas holiday season, but now I see the beautiful link and flow.  Giving thanks drops us into our own center of peace, preparing us not just to wish for Peace on Earth as we stamp our holiday cards, but also to bring peace to our corner of the Earth, through our energy, actions and our blessings.

She is 97.  With a beautiful heart, failing legs, and a mind that some would say is failing too.

I see it a little differently.  I see a mind that has loosened its grip in a way we all desire.  Letting go of anxiety, to do lists, the need for comparison, planning for the future, regret.

She’s my grandmother and she has dementia.  It’s a condition caused by the gradual death of brain cells.

The space that has emerged is filled with humor, freedom, candidness, peace, pointed wisdom at times and an innate ability to be in the present.

There is also confusion, the sense of something not being quite right, and a loss of memories.  For those who love her, there's a sadness when they aren't recognized. Yet we always have an intimate visit with my grandmother’s inner soul.

And in her moments of clarity, her most authentic self steps forward loving and appreciating this world.   She now relaxes into daily gratitude. She trusts.  She feels.  She sleeps soundly.  She accepts.

At this point, dementia has removed layers of the mind in my grandmother that bury the soul in all of us.  Layers of thought, personality, memories that become our story, fear of the future.

It’s too early to say it’s a gift, but for sure it’s a lesson in what is pure . . . how beautiful an untethered heart and soul can be.  And, no matter the age, when a soul bares itself, we must hold and love it with the same compassion we hold a child.

Today, maybe we try loosening the grip of our own mind. Let’s relax into the present, allow our emotions to surface freely, let go of self judgement, and rest in a space of trust.

What is your relationship with disappointment?  I've had a ring of disappointments enter my radar this month; of my friends, my family, my own.  They each have a familiar beginning and middle: hope, effort, anticipation, disappointment.

The end to these stories tends to be very private. After disappointment, there is a final chapter of processing and healing required to close the loop.

The Olympics was an amazing example of intense disappointment mixed with storybook victory.  I watched with such respect for these athletes.  I would love to read their last chapters to learn more about their relationship with disappointment. I know it's different from mine.

Athletes like gymnast Jordan Jovtchev from Bulgaria in his 6th Olympic games, train their whole life to “succeed” or to “fail”, staring disappointment squarely and publicly in the face, over and over.

I’m in a different camp.  I seem to work around potential life disappointments, living safely and predictably. Whenever I attempt to avoid disappointments, I ultimately create them, in the form of regret.  

So how do we create a healthy relationship with disappointment?

Buddhism has a basic belief that disappointment is caused by attachment to expectations - the root of human suffering.  

But how do we manifest a full life and detach ourselves from it at the same time?

How do we find the motivation to fuel our hard work without having expectations about the outcome?

Is life supposed to be just a wait-and-see exercise with pleasant surprises sprinkled in?

How do we let go of expectations without feeling stagnant or unfocused?

Maybe a healthy relationship with life and its disappointments means facing this emotion directly, regularly, and consciously.

• Loosening the grip of our dreams and desires without losing sight of them, so we can better appreciate the journey while still steering our life.
   
• Being more comfortable putting ourselves out there and then letting go, trusting the unfolding of life.

If we want to go for a medal in any area of our lives, we need to practice being vulnerable and strengthening our core sense of “wholeness” regardless of the outcome.

The spirit of Sunday's Closing Ceremonies embodied the Last Chapter we all want to write. It's about celebrating our best efforts, embracing those who land "ahead" and "behind" us, having mutual respect for our collective journey and honoring all of our courage along the way.