Self-Love and a chuckle

Loving yourself...does not mean being self-absorbed or narcissistic, or disregarding others. Rather it means welcoming yourself as the most honored guest in your own
heart, a guest worthy of respect, a lovable companion. -Margo Anand

I often do my writing from a coffeehouse. It is one of those sorts of places with overstuffed chairs, the scent of coffee and whispered voices. Last week I sat next to a man and woman who were discussing relationship and love and the dynamic between men and women. She asked the man “are you currently in relationship?”. He humorously answered, “yes, I’m trying a new sort of relationship. I am entering into relationship with myself.” She chuckled and asked “how is that going for you?”. He answered with a smirk……“I’m learning to love me now. Its good, we don’t fight much. Its not too serious, I’m moving soon, and don’t want to start something I can’t finish. We’re keeping it open and talking about it. If he meets someone else, I’ll try to understand. But mostly…….I’m just glad I have a cat”. Hysterical laughter ensued.

I stifled a chuckle, and noticed their conversation had caused me to ask myself, “how much time do I really put into knowing and loving me?” Without sound trite, it is an important question. My father once challenged me that loving myself must mean I am abusing or neglecting others. It seems a common belief that if I spend my time, money, energy or thoughts on myself that somehow someone else will “loose”. I have come to find this is not true. Instead, it appears to be the exact opposite.

In my facilitation of workshops I run an activity called “giving it away”. I call a person to the front of the room and ask them to give me a penny. Sometimes they have one, sometimes they don’t. Either way, eventually they run out of pennies. However, once they run out, instead of no longer asking for a penny, I simply get more demanding, beg, plead or cry for the lack of a penny. The activity demonstrates that you cannot give away what you do not have. No matter how hard they try, or how much they want to give me a penny, they simply do not have one. The same is true in my life: If I do not have self-love, I cannot love someone else completely. If I do not respect myself, it is difficult to respect others. If I do not have compassion for myself, and my human foibles, I do not have true compassion for anyone else.

The reverse is also true. I give much more freely of that which I have an abundance! If pennies were limitless, I’d be able to continually give them without end. And so it goes, if I judge myself harshly, I tend to judge others the same. When I am impatient with myself, I am impatient with others. Or, if I live peacefully, I will unwittingly share peace with those around me.

Self-love is a beautiful cycle where everyone wins. When I love myself, I have more love to give; when those around me receive more love, it is easier for them to love both themselves and others. When there is more love, compassion, understanding and gentleness in my life, there is more in the world. When there is more in the world there will be less disagreements, less fighting, and less war. And so the never ending cycle of expanding, increasing, conscious, powerful love continues, and my self-love actually becomes an invaluable piece of both loving and healing my family, my friends, my community, my nation and, ultimately, my world.

Did you have any idea that self-love could be so globally important?

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Friends and Connection

6 hour drive home from the Bay Area... whew, my ass hurts.
It was a wonderful drive, and because it was with one of my very best friends, Thunder, it felt fast and easy. We spoke of love and relationships and intimacy and heart and Rumi and our kids and our work and the new snow on Mt. Shasta, we listened to music, we sang really loud and Thunder tried to nap but I wouldn't let him. We laughed, we cried and we even argued a bit. I learn so much from my friends. I learn about how I want to be, and I learn about how I don't want to be. Mostly I learn that it feels important to make connections. To take time to both listen AND share. Conversations cannot be a one sided endeavor. Closeness requires a sharing from both parties, as well as listening. My experience is that that some find it easier to listen than they do to share. Or perhaps they think what they have to share isn't as important or as adventurous or as interesting. It doesn't really matter, what matters is that I can learn the condition of your heart. That I can be a part of your inner most thoughts, of your heart, of your very being. It is those interior places that allow me access to your deepest self, and that is the You I wish to know. Not the You that is known by everyone, but the You that lies beneath the surface, waiting to be coaxed out into the open, waiting to bask in the light of love, looking to be appreciated and understood. The You of vulnerabilities and self-doubt, the You of wonder and confusion.... not the You that is full of all the right answers, but that piece of You that is always in question, who lives in a state of curiosity, who finds wonder and magic in love and life, including the smallest most apparently insignificant details that makes my life a rich tapestry of color, texture and warmth. It is that tapestry that I wish to wrap myself in, and feel deeply into my bones.

"My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue, and ever lasting vision with an ever changing view" ~Carol King

Pakistan and Passions

I have a dear friend who travels the world to train corporations in "human potential" workshops and long term coaching programs. The stuff he teaches is AMAZING, and the stories of lives changed are PROFOUND. He is excited and inspired by his work, and now he's being sent to Pakistan. The news this week said that Pakistan has now been deemed the most dangerous nation in the world. And the city he is going to a the most dangerous as well. He's committed to going as long as no one stops him. He is sort of questioning himself about going, but I think I know why he's going. I spoke it to my dad:
Yesterday my dad called and we got into our old routine of talking about world events of one sort or another and his stock answer about, "well, we know the only answer is the Lords government anyway, and doesn't this all prove its time that he come and save us all and create a world of peace and perfection, you know there is no other hope anyway, blah, blah, blah". It hit a nerve this time more than usual (probably associated with my current crabby state of mind) and my response was clear, concise and said lovingly:
"While there may be truth to that, I also believe it is my responsibility to do what I can where I can. I cannot sit idly by and wait to be saved, wait for someone else to do the work, wait for something outside of me to change my world. I am called to creating change where I can, to be of service, to put my words into action, to reach out and assist when possible, and influence in the highest way I can." (he then asked if I was voting for Hillary).
Last night I saw a blurb on youtube, Oprah was talking to Letterman and she said, "if we all just did what we could everyone would be served. I may be feeding thousands of children in SA this Christmas (she was responding to his kudos, not self-congratulating), but if you have the ability to have one over for dinner, do it, and then look where else you can make a difference".

So, I know why he is still going. I would too if I were him.

Remembering adventure

Today I saw grafitti on a dumpster. It said, "with stories of adventure greater than stories you had heard, she came alive". I'm not exactly sure why that sentence struck me as strongly as it did. I've seen the same grafitti every day as I walk home from yoga. But today it said something different to me. Today it spoke of new horizons I've not yet visited. Today it spoke of loves I have not felt. It spoke of flavors I have not tasted, scents I have not inhaled and textures I have not touched. Today it reminded me of my longing for adventure. Those thoughts of far away places and people that keep me moving forward. The projects I create. The opportunities I accept. The twists, turns and unexpected bumps I've experienced along the way. It spoke of shattered dreams and mended hearts. Unexpected gifts, surprises and laughter. I hear in that sentence opportunities to risk, to jump, to fly. Living life awake and full and free. Including paths that converge and then part, people who come into my life and then depart. The ever changing landscape of my life, the perfection of the flow and the acceptance of what is. I am reminded I am a woman of adventure. I am a woman of exploration. I am a woman of movement and trust and fear and anxiety. It is the texture in my life created through the ups and downs, both the planned and unexpected changes, and the knowledge that the variety in it all is what keeps it rich and tasty. This includes the disappointments, disillusionments, and tears. All these things make my life a finely woven tapestry with texture, color, depth and purpose.
I am a woman of adventure, and my stories bring me to life.

Leaves of Change

I'm noticing that the current change in season is feeling much like the transitional period I am in as well. Yesterday my early morning walk was bright and crisp and blue. The colored trees were literally glowing and the path through the park was lined with softly fallen leaves. It was almost like walking through virgin snow, and in places the leaves were knee high. The creek was coated in leaves, and they were all collected around the edges of the glassy ponds and on the shore among the rocks. The railing on the bridges were covered in the leaves that looked as though they had been perched there for some sort of photograph. Leaves were continuing to fall softly all around me, like snowflakes. I caught a couple young teen-age deer frolicking on the hillside. Chasing each other back and forth in the leaves, trying to bite each others little puff tails. The rock garden where unseen people, or perhaps fairies, balance rocks into stupas was lightly decorated with the leaves, and it was beautiful. The duck pond was like glass and the bright trees reflected fully in the water. There was a silence too, that went along with the fallen leaves and babbling creek that felt deep and full. I could even hear leaves dropping. It was the sort of silence that leaves my head feeling rather empty.

This morning, it was cold and blustery. The same paths that looked quiet and serene yesterday were now full of blowing leaves that were being swept by the wind into piles and stacks. The wind whistled and the trees bent. There was a deep rumbling in the trees and my cheeks burned with the wet cold. It threatened to be drizzly, with that heavy anticipation of a release of rain in the air. The paths were all in movement and transition, and the leaves blew and circled around my feet. Many of the trees that were brilliant yellow yesterday were empty and stark looking today. People walking by were wrapped deeply in scarves and hats and gloves. As I got closer to home the threatening drizzle turned into rain drops, and I was soon wet and cold and the sidewalks were plastered with leaves that looked like they had somehow been glued there. The smell was deep and wet and earthy, and as I walked past a smoking woman I noticed I could feel the texture of the smells and natural composting that was happening beneath my feet. It was a very different day today. I noticed that change is sometimes slow and easy, and sometimes loud and harsh. Either way, I am feeling the change in a variety of ways - this one was very visible, physical and loud.

I too am feeling changed like that. Some of the changes over the course of the last year have been loud and harsh, others have been soft and transitional. What I know is there is a new landscape being created. I may not know what the next season will bring, but like the change of summer into fall, I can trust it is a transition necessary for my health, my wholeness and for my own beautiful landscape.

Bathtubs

I lust after bathtubs.
And decks.
And windows.
And sunrises…….

And this morning a friend has loaned me his home. He says I can use it any time. He says he likes to share his things with me. He says he means it. I am going to believe him. And so, I’m tucked into his place…

Big king bed with feather comforter and super soft sheets
Windows and the deck facing due east
The sun begin to rise through the windy pine trees
The sky is lighting up
The high clouds are yellow and orange
The blue sky is the color of Wrennas eyes (and I suppose mine too)
The trees gently sway
And I am grateful……

For good friends
Tina Malia
Laptops and wireless internet
Eddie on IM
Re-reading old emails from loved ones
Myspace and the inspiration of others
Silk, flannel lined jammies
Taking a full day in bed
Allowing myself a good funk
And pondering the perfection of it all

Hurray for Change

I've spent the day building my new website with Trevor. I've been bouncing around the office, watching it take shape, and watching the representations of myself stare glaringly back at me from the screen. Can I distill my professional life down into one page? I look at all the pictures, the descriptions, the boxes, the wide range of projects and I think, "I look schizophrenic". I think, "what will my friends think". I read it and re-read it and I think "do I like it?". And I do. I want to fine tune it, I want to change sentences and add to it. I want it to be a living document that grows and changes with me. I do not want it to be a static site. I get hopeful when I wonder what will I add this year? What new projects will get new little boxes and pictures? What boxes will be removed? And mostly, I'm overjoyed that I know it will change and that I will too. To quote India Arie "the only thing constant in the world is change". Thank God.