Maybe It's Not Time Yet

I don't set New Year's resolutions. I used to set New Year's intentions, which morphed into New Year's visioning. The idea stems from the notion it's easy to fall into inertia and let one day bleed into the next. That if we don't have a plan, we'll wander around listless, purposeless, like a thistle blowing in the wind. However, here we are at the end of January and I haven't finished envisioning what I want for this year.

I feel loads of pressure to get it done this month, as if January is some magical time of year that leads to wish fulfillment. Or as if January is the "last-call month" and if I don't create a road map for the year in January, somehow I'm doomed and none of my dreams will come true. That I'll never change certain aspects of myself and my life. I know many people feel the same way because I've seen comments floating around on Facebook and Instagram saying things like, "January was my trial month. My resolutions actually begin in February."

Why pineapples? Why not pineapples? Photo by Pineapple Supply Co. on Unsplash

I get it. I feel the same way. And I'd like to point out here not only can change happen at any time, but also we can start over at any time. I could start my day over at 10 p.m. And I could commit to something new on December 28th. The date and time don't matter. The pressure we put on ourselves at the start of the new year, myself included, is self-inflicted.

The reality is we're constantly changing, constantly moving. My spiritual teacher says movement is the very characteristic of the universe. So like it or not, we're all moving. And the reality is the movement or change doesn't often sync up with the calendar. That's why most people don't stick with New Year's resolutions. We're trying to make a change starting on January 1st, but maybe we're not actually ready for the change yet. Maybe we're trying to force something.

What I know to be unequivocally true in my life is change happens when all the elements sync up. When internally I'm ready and externally the world is ready too. For instance, I may want to travel through outer space, but until I train as an astronaut or someone builds a spaceship for private citizens, that's not going to happen. Sometimes our inner motivation hasn't lined up with the outer world yet, and that's OK. That doesn't mean they never will. Sometimes what's required from us is patience and acceptance of what is.

I dream of a world where we realize change often doesn't sync up with the calendar. A world where we remember change happens only when all parts align and that's a process that can't be rushed. A world where we go easy on ourselves if we're not able to accomplish something we set out to accomplish because we understand maybe it's not time yet.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

Wild and Precious Life

As you likely know, famed poet Mary Oliver died recently. Oliver wrote many poems and one, “The Summer Day,” gets quoted frequently. The last two lines are: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do/with your one wild and precious life?”

People regularly use that quote as an aspiration to live life to the fullest, but in the context of the poem, Oliver writes of a person who kneels in the grass and strolls through fields enjoying the summer day, asking, “Tell me, what else should I have done?”

All the poems I've read of hers have a certain poignancy as she reflects on the transience of life. But instead of lamenting this fact, she revels in it. I've been thinking about the transience of life, not only my own, but also as it relates to climate change.

Love this image. Photo by Michele Bergami on Unsplash.

As I write this, rain streaks down from the sky prompting coastal flood and high-surf warnings. Ice caps are melting. Scientists predict we're hurtling toward another extinction. It raises fear, anxiety, and nihilism within me. I think about my nieces and nephews and feel sad they won't experience the Earth the way I have. That they won't know the wonder of witnessing countless fireflies lighting up a summer night. And yet the time we do have left, the fireflies that are still around, are worth enjoying.

I realize it's always been true that people die, that one generation experiences something the next does not. But right now I think we're experiencing a collective grief because we're all undergoing the same loss at the same time. (However, I have to say some of us are getting hit harder than others.) Our grief is no longer solely personal because the world we live in is going through a metamorphosis. And that metamorphosis makes our lives wild and precious. Our lives are wild and precious because everything matters.

A monk friend of mine describes our spiritual philosophy as exactly that: Everything matters. In materialism, only matter matters. In idealism, nothing matters. But in tantra everything matters. It seems to me more and more of us are taking on that perspective, that everything matters. That everything is important. That everything is valuable and sacred. I've used this quote many times before but my spiritual teacher said, “If one ant meets a premature death, it will disturb the balance of the entire cosmos. Therefore, nothing here is unimportant, not even an ant.”

Even a tiny ant matters. From the smallest creature to the largest one, they all matter. And every moment matters as well. Not in a heavy, weighty sense, but rather each moment contributes to our life. The boring ones, the sad ones, the relaxing ones, the adventurous ones. They all make up our existence. They all make up our wild and precious life. If we have a little time left or a lot of time left, we can savor all of it as the beautiful and rare thing it is.

I dream of a world where we realize everything matters. A world where we remember the tiniest creature to the largest one matters. A world where we remember life is fleeting and we do our best to be present to it all. A world where we maintain perspective about our wild and precious lives.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

Holy Perfection

I have a confession: I make mistakes. I know, that doesn't seem like much of a confession because everybody makes mistakes, but with the amount of shame and fear that comes up from admitting it, you'd think I killed a man and buried his body in the backyard.

I notice the intensity of shame and fear shifts according to my perception of safety around making a mistake. If I make a mistake and the only person affected is me, for instance, the shame and fear levels are low. If I make a mistake at work, the shame and fear levels are high. The levels spike because my brain starts telling me the story, “I'm going to get fired! I'll be destitute!” In my mind, the only way to stay safe at work or in my relationships is to be perfect. If I'm not perfect, something bad will happen. It's not entirely logical but when are emotions ever logical?

When I typed in "perfection" this is what came up. Photo by Bill Williams on Unsplash.

This week when I made mistakes, I gave myself the basic mothering and fathering messages I learned in therapy: “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not ever going anywhere. I'll protect you. I'll meet all your needs. Nothing about you will keep me from meeting your needs.” It helped. It also helped reminding myself security doesn't come from other people or an external source. Security comes from me and from higher power. Money for instance doesn't come solely from a job. It can come from an inheritance or the government or whatever. If I lost my job tomorrow, I could borrow money or start a GoFundMe campaign or any number of things.

When I'm stuck in perfectionism, my perspective shrinks and I think in black and white. However, the world is in color and much more nuanced than I remember. When thinking about perfectionism, I was reminded an early definition of perfect is, “Brought to consummation or completeness.” That’s coming from the 1913 Webster’s Writers’ Dictionary. As a one on the Enneagram, I’m all about finding holy perfection, and the practice for me is to remember “perfect” doesn't mean without mistakes, rather, it means completeness.

Completeness ultimately means unification with a power greater than myself, according to my spiritual tradition. I meditate and live my life in such a way that I'm moving closer and closer to a divine entity. I'm trying to unite and merge with something much subtler than I am. When I'm stuck in perfectionism, I lose sight of my journey and instead focus on a snapshot in time. I forget I'm learning and growing. I forget mistakes are an integral part of the process.

Will I still make mistakes? Yes. Will I still beat myself up about them? Probably. But more and more I'm using tools to come out of it, to love myself, and to be in the space of seeing holy perfection.

I dream of a world where we remember in our quest to be perfect, really we want safety, peace of mind, and completeness. A world where we realize we are all moving toward something whole and unified. A world where we remember it's OK to mess up and even perfect in its own way.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

Something Old and Something New

For the past two weeks family surrounded me. First in Seattle visiting my immediate family (minus my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew) and then in Ojai visiting my spiritual family. I loved it. I felt warm and cozy, filled to the brim with care and affection. And at the same time, I dreamed of going home, being alone, and eating cookies while watching Netflix.

This weekend I did just that. And while eating cookies and watching Netflix, I felt an ache in my heart for last week when family surrounded me. I can't win. I suspect it's similar to being a parent. I'm not a parent, but as an auntie, I want my nephews and nieces to stay the age they are now and also get older so I can relate to them as adults. I want something old and something new at the same time. Humans are funny like that.

Loved the juxtaposition here. Photo by Milivoj Kuhar on Unsplash.

Will I ever be satisfied? Probably not. In my spiritual tradition we say human beings have a thirst for limitlessness. We want unlimited happiness, we want unlimited love, we want unlimited satisfaction. We are all seeking this. It's the very nature of what it means to be human. To use a Sanskrit term, it is our dharma, or the essential characteristic of human beings. Pretty sure that means I'm screwed then because I'm never completely satisfied. Just kidding.

The only way to quench the thirst for limitlessness is to drink something infinite, so to speak. For me, that means Cosmic Consciousness, or God, or Infinite Love, or Source. When I touch that Cosmic Entity through meditation, I feel satiated. Full disclosure though, it was during a yoga and meditation retreat I wanted to eat cookies and watch Netflix. So. Just in case you thought every time I sit down for meditation I fall into a state of rapture and deep peace, I want to disabuse you of that notion.

However, I've fallen into a state of rapture and deep peace often enough to convince me meditation is my answer to the question, “How can I feel satisfied?” Thus far it's the solution I've found to wanting something old and something new at the same time because Cosmic Consciousness is both very, very old, and very, very new. And also because I'm human I know I'll remember and then I'll forget and then I'll remember again. But I keep trying and I think that's the important thing.

I dream of a world where we realize ultimate satisfaction doesn't come from material objects but rather from something infinite and unlimited. A world where we realize we can have something old and something new at the same time if we turn to spirituality. A world where we realize we won't engage “perfectly” but as long as we keep trying, that's what is most important.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.