I’ve been slipping in the Wonder department lately . . . all in the name of Ease.  Do you know what I mean? Let me put it this way.

Would you like your life to be easier?

What if I gave you the choice:  Would you rather your life be easier or more wondrous?

What does more wondrous mean to you? I'd love to know.

I have a hunch that the idea of adding wonder to your world upped the ante.  After all, “What’s so great about Easy?”, my favorite yoga teacher Charu often asks.  Yet often we wait for life to ease up before allowing ourselves to think bigger about a more deliciously fulfilling way of living.

When we are faced with ease versus wonder, ease often wins.  A simple example in my own life triggered this topic for me. I faced a ten hour road trip on Labor Day weekend that should have been five.  It almost didn’t happen.  My reward was a midnight shooting star extravaganza while soaking in a natural hot spring pool. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, yet I almost did.  The battle against traffic almost sent me in a U-turn back to life as usual.

And then there are the more meaty parts of life that you may face.  Do you make the investment to get a degree or certification in order to grow in a discipline you love?  Do you quit a job to seek a more fulfilling way to earn and contribute?  Do you move to a different city towards a dream?

I heard an interesting lecture by psychologist Kelly McGonigal, How to Make Stress Your Friend.  She ends by saying, “Chasing meaning is better for your life than avoiding discomfort.”

Somewhere in between weekend plans and life plans there is a space that calls us to move forward.  And when we feel we are moving on autopilot, I believe we have an opportunity to grab the steering wheel towards a more meaningful path.  

So, let’s go back to the questions of ease and wonder.  Let me rephrase them:

What does ease feel like to you?  

Could it be sureness, fulfillment, commitment, energy?

What does wonder feel like to you?

Could it be a sense of promise, mystery, stretching, delight, possibility?

Can you invite in more wonder AND ease, at the same time, just by increasing your ability to connect with these feelings? Can you find the calm and sureness within you to handle life’s grind?  It will give you more capacity for wonder:  to take in the uniqueness of each day; to go after what quietly delights you; to take action in the direction of unknown possibility and reward; to seek your shooting star and feel the awe that awaits you.

We all have it.  That part of our lives or ourselves that we look at . . .  over and over again.  It’s a place of question or discontent.  It’s a place of focus, but not clarity. And often, it’s a place of limitation.

Have you noticed the more intense you are about finding clarity, the more elusive it can become?  So you take a step back.

Summer is a natural time of year to give ourselves a little more space to see things differently. Did you hope for a new angle on an old part of you while you were poolside, or beachside, or lakeside this summer?  Did being in nature help you to feel more expansive?

I always take my daughters to Pennsylvania to be with my family.  I purposefully didn’t bring my laptop, took a break from my blog, and went with the intention to break some cycles and get a fresh perspective.  

Creating distance from our swirling cycles can be the break we need.  But I learned from this summer, that stepping back isn’t enough.  

You know those moments when you are trying to take a picture of what’s in front of you and you can’t fit it in the frame of your camera?  You zoom out, step back, and then surrender to the fact that what you are experiencing can’t be captured.

A few weeks ago my sister and I took my parents to New York City to celebrate their wedding anniversary.  No matter how I tried, I couldn’t capture the immensity of the cityscape, the energy of the lights at Time Square, or the impact of the 9-11 Memorial.  Life in front of me was always more expansive than my lens.

I was thinking on the train ride back about the desire I’ve felt to expand my perspective of my own life.  I was reminded that no matter how much distance we give ourselves.  No matter how many angles we try to create by flipping the situation, there is still a frame we are working within and it gives us limits that become our world. 

On the last day in the Big Apple my daughter showed me the nifty panoramic button on my iPhone just in time to get a shot of the freshly scrubbed Grand Central Station on its 100 year anniversary.  It’s a very cool technique that requires you to be very still and slow as you sweep your camera across the full horizon in front of you.  

I am ready to put down my camera now.  Summer is wrapping up.  It’s a natural time to dig back into life, but I don’t want to become myopic.  Let’s remember to:

• Shift your eyes from the object you are focusing on to see the edges of habit you are operating within.

• Keep stepping back in order to notice when your back hits a wall of limitation.

• Then hit that panoramic button to find a more expansive horizon of possibilities.

• Remember that what life presents to you is more than you can ever capture.

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.

Let my life become ~

The unfolding of me.

A winding path to my inner content.

A daily blessing that I recognize.

An inner wisdom from my own life lessons.

A redefinition of achievement.

A full experience of love.

An unexpected garden of inspiration.

A freedom in knowing myself.

A refined focus on balance.

A constant wave of kindness that carries others.

A contributing part of the greater journey for all.

A beautiful becoming.

Blessings,
Amy

ps. This unexpected vertical garden is on the side of Drew High School in San Francisco.

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: