When we feel lack of momentum, it can be unsettling.  It’s easy to start judging ourselves in times of uphill.  But there is also an invitation to understand our need for a constant sense of pushing forward.

Momentum is defined as “The force or speed of movement.”  Our achievement oriented, fast paced society is hooked on it.  Yet we can see that speed of movement doesn’t always bring momentum towards the changes we are seeking individually or collectively.

My family recently went skiing in Tahoe.  My youngest daughter was stretching herself to move past the bunny slope and stay with the group, when we came upon a man made ski jumping course with one launching ramp after another.  She watched her sister and others fly down it.  Determined yet scared, she decided to approach the first ramp.  

Slowly she started down the shoot and up the ramp only to stall out half way up and slide back down to a stop.  She then had to traverse around the jump to the other side and try again.  I watched her try over and over again, never making it, always sliding backwards to a stop. Her combined effort to stay in control and make it over the top brought tears of frustration and anger at the height of the ramp and her own fear that was getting in the way.

I’m a huge fan of baby steps. They are a comfortable and often strategic way to move forward in challenging times. After watching Aria I was reminded that baby steps can’t always get you up and over.  

I also saw that Aria was building momentum, even though to her it felt like dismal failure.   I was taken by her determination, as she approached a ramp for the eighth time.  Her trial and error, mixed with the growing energy of her emotions gave her the momentum to successfully tackle the last ramp with all her might.

Momentum requires letting go and pushing forward all at the same time.  The emotions that we typically feel when we are stuck: frustration, anger, agitation, regret; can be used to fuel momentum if we are aware of their energies and focused on channeling them.  

Staying on life’s bunny slopes might make us feel greater “speed of movement”, but preparing for leaps, including the pauses in between, is a force in itself.  You can fall down and get up over and over again.  You can even slide backwards in life and still be moving forward.  

How can you redefine momentum in your life right now? I'd love to know.

Blessings,
Amy      

ps. Having no photo of my daughter in action, I went to YouTube and found tons of footage of ski jumps gone bad. The one I included above is visceral inspiration for times when baby steps are not an option.

Where does your gaze land? . . . When it’s not on a screen . . . Do you tend to search for a horizon?

I am constantly eying up the path in front of me, feeling the need to navigate.

How funny that my eyesight is starting to wane to a blur right beyond my nose. The drugstore reading glasses are a lovely invitation to more clearly see the richness of my life within the daily transactions while paving my path.

And looking inward, well that can get a bit confusing, like a maze with no marked exit.  Looking inward can quickly shift to looking back.  Peering into life’s rear view mirror can feel like reversing out of your driveway, double checking left to spot the should haves and right to see the could haves.

I have recently been looking up.  Straight up.  This new vantage point is beautifully wide open, even on cloudy days. It’s a welcome break, a clean start.  There is an intense loving energy of sunlight, the promise of space and the free movement of flight against the backdrop of stillness.  

And there are sneakers ~ hundreds of them.  I just started to see them, everywhere.  It’s definitely a city phenomenon.  Hanging from the wires that connect us all, they appear to be left behind and on pedestals for their fine tour of duty. The more sneakers my eyes spot the more I hear their messages:

“Leap!,” they say.
“Forget the horizon. Or the sidewalk down memory lane with all of its cracks. Or even your next step.”
“Try the sky.”
“Feel the freedom of movement without laces”
“Try the path you feel you can’t.”
“Know you aren’t truly held down.”
“Imagine the weight you bare is yours to let go.”

Next time you remove your shoes, let it be a reminder to lighten your step . . .  lift your gaze . . . and find ease in the now.

My daughter just ran for her school’s student council.  It was right on the tails of our country’s election day and she was keenly in tune with the intense emotions that came with winning and losing.

At Jefferson Elementary School, Aria was one of a handful of ten-year-olds who found the courage to try.  They wrote their speeches and practiced during lunch recess for weeks. They put up their handmade posters with their campaign managers.  They spoke in front of the entire school, articulating why they were the best one for the job and promising more ice cream days. 

And then the ballots were cast.  Winning and losing became a real and raw life lesson. 

Watching each child approach the stage was a tender example of the bravery of trying. The importance of stepping up to life’s podium when we have something to share with the world.  The gift we receive ~ regardless of the outcome ~ knowing the strength in ourselves.

I wrote this prayer for my daughter while waiting for the results.  I think I’ll keep it handy.

When We Try

Thank you for guiding me to my most bright and fullest self.

Thank you for sending me the whispers that I am strong enough to try.

Thank you for all that I have learned about myself from trying: 
that I am brave, that I am smart and creative, that I know myself best.

Help others, who want to be brave enough to try, to find this part of themselves too.

Thank you for all the support I felt from others.

Thank you for helping me find the part inside that I can count on
when I feel scared, nervous, shy or disappointed.

Help me to remember that loss and disappointment are a part of life,
and that I don’t need to fear it.  I can walk through it, talk through it,
feel through it, be in it.  

Please continue to guide me towards the ways I can bring my gifts into the world
and to trust myself every step of the way.

Thank you for growing my roots deeper into the earth and my limbs higher towards the sky. 
As I am now a stronger, more beautiful blossoming person from it.

What makes you feel safe? 

A roof over your head?

A leader you trust?

Money in the bank?   A strong military?

Your faith?

A clean bill of health?

A stable job?

How about organic food . . .  a flu vaccine . . . seat belts . . . contraception  . . . a home security system . . .  not watching the news?

Living in America?

Feeling loved?

We all felt the intense uncertainty of this week as our Nation prepared to ride out Hurricane Sandy.  Its awful aftermath served to shift the fear many of us hold around the Presidential election to real matters of life, death, survival, and coming together in profound and necessary ways.

Ultimately, I think feeling safe is about knowing you are not alone.  

When all the scaffolding we create in life falls or blows or floats away, we are left with the one innate force that guided us from the moment we entered this world as infants.  It’s what stopped our tears.

Knowing you are not alone can take many forms.  You can find security in a family, a friendship, a pet, a partnership, a community.  You can find connection with a greater life force.  

Perhaps the most intimate and often the most fleeting sense of not being alone is finding that connection within your Self.   Can you feel safe within your Self?  How do you get there?  It can feel like searching for a light in the darkness.  But within your powerfully rooted center there is a space that is safe.  It can hold you. It knows you.  It can guide you and soothe you.  In that place, when you are able to be with yourself and trust … you are not alone.

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.

Last night I stayed up until one a.m. figuring out a problem.  At first, I forced a quick answer and moved on.  But I had been carrying a heavy uncomfortable feeling inside.  I knew I needed to go back and try again.  I needed to take the time to get it right.

When I eventually crawled into bed, feeling lighter . . . aligned, I remembered the advice from one of my most respected guides. 

It was the morning of her fifth birthday party.  The backyard was set up for a day of play and the sky was set up for a day of rain. I said to my daughter, “Oh I hope the rain comes soon so it’s nice for your party.”

Aria replied, “Mommy, don’t rush the sky! How would you feel if all the grass died, if all the leaves on the trees were crunchy, if all the flower petals fell off?"

It can be so hard to let life unfold at its natural pace.  Our current societal race invites us to push through decisions, emotions, moments of not knowing, so we don’t fall further behind. But often life’s unfolding takes sitting with it, circling back, waiting for the clouds to pass.

When we try to “Rush the Sky”, we often ~

~ miss cues
~ misinterpret barriers as something to push harder against
~ live with an incessant circle of mental analysis
~ feel off balance or ungrounded
~ use up our energy faster than we can restore it

There is a sense of stillness in a clear sky, even though we know it’s in constant motion. When life feels clear and sunny, there is greater opportunity to focus on your pace and create space for your inner compass.

When life rains upon you, it’s a bit more unnatural to slow down and be in it. The first reaction is to run for cover.  But, I invite you to try mindfully getting wet.  Know that your roots are growing stronger and that by drinking it in drop by drop, you will blossom.


My Teacher ~  A Lesson in Mindfully Getting Wet: