​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

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 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.