Softness

At sunset the light has a lovely, soft quality. It's golden and makes everything beautiful (in a from-the-inside-out kind of way). The special light of sunset makes me feel bathed in warmth or wrapped in a blanket of acceptance. On Thursday, I walked home during the sunset. Besides taking fun shots with my camera, I also reflected on my mood, the light, and my surroundings.

The soft, accepting light of sunset is a great model for me. It models the gentleness with which I want to hold my own heart and the hearts of others. The light at sunset is never harsh or rigid or unkind. It is soft, accepting, and generous. On days when I feel overworked or fearful or blah, it's often difficult to access that special sunset light. Yet especially on those days it's helpful for me to be gentle and accepting of myself and others. 

Sharon Salzberg is a meditation teacher and expert on loving-kindness practice. She often speaks about the end-of-day-replay we do in our minds. Her spot-on comment is that we typically focus--with a laser-like beam--on the one "dumb" thing we said or the unfinished to-do item or some other negative aspect of our day. Her question: Did anything else happen today? That question is like shining the soft light of sunset on the actions of your day. What good things happened? What connections were made? What made you smile? What mistakes did you learn from? What insight (minuscule or huge) did you gain? In what small ways did you make your life or someone else's life better?

There's always some nugget of happiness, growth, kindness, or strength in every one of our days. We just need to pause and soften enough to see it. But when we do, it's bathed in sunset-quality light.

Creativity & The Fine Line

This weekend Mark and I were in Door County for his company's annual get-together (very little work & much play). We spent part of Saturday at a magical place called Hands On Art Studio. It's a space for genuine reflection and authentic creation. Although I was initially overwhelmed by the options in the Jewelry Cafe, I took my time and slowly put together a bracelet. It was pure fun, with no judgment or doubt.

There's often a fine line between enjoyable, creative activities and harsh, get-things-done tasks. If I'm not mindful, I can easily move from one side of the line to the other. For example, my photography is generally a flow activity for me--completely enjoyable and creative. But when it comes to processing photos on the PC, I can easily fall into get-everything-done-now mode (and sometimes I even yell at the computer). In my life, there are many examples of the Fine Line: thoughtful class preparation turned to micro-managed handouts; playful digging in the dirt turned to must-completely-redo-my-entire-garden-right-now; heartfelt card writing turned to a check-list slog.

Many times I begin an activity with positive intentions and creative energy, yet find myself stuck in ego and judgement by the end. If I'm really aware, then I can see the Fine Line from one side or the other (pull the plug just a little early or just a little late, and everything is fine). Mark and I have started asking each other, "Are you still having fun?" anytime one of us is at the computer. It's a lovely reminder question that we forget to ask ourselves once we're churning away. In fact, that's a great question for me right this moment! I'll walk my talk by ending this blog post while I'm still having fun. Just as I did Saturday at the Jewelry Cafe:

Self Portraits

Last week I wrote about wholeness. In fact, most of my recent writings have touched on authenticity in some way. Through meditation, self-reflection, creativity, connection with loved ones, and play, I'm much more in touch with my authentic self. I'm living my life more from the inside out. But, lest I think I have all my sh*t together, I was confronted with something new and scary this week: self portraits. 

In my photography class, Susannah Conway encouraged us to use self portraiture as a means of going within, of connecting with our souls. For the first two days, my camera sat still. This was a hard one for me. Interestingly, I enjoy having my picture taken if I'm in a group or surrounded by loved ones (in fact, I routinely have people takes shots of me with my friends & family, as these are the pictures I want all over my house). But when it came to turning the camera on myself, I hesitated. As much work as I've done to love myself unconditionally, there was still a barrier. Am I worthy of a self portrait? What about all my physical flaws? Am I really, truly comfortable in my own skin?

At first I went with reflection self-portraits (in mirrors, windows, etc.). These are actually easy for me, as they feel creative rather than intimate. I'm still hiding some of myself. It was the arm's-length portraits that felt more intimate and in which I felt more vulnerable. But I did it. I've taken many "selfies" this week, many of which I won't share with others. It's really the process that matters to me. (Ah, isn't that the true nature of most things?) I started slowly, and then I dove in, taking arm's-length shots of different expressions and in different light. Some of the photos were difficult for me to view--they struck the I'm-not-good-enough cord. Yet I allowed myself to really look at them before deleting. And other photos actually seemed to express my inner self.  

So the week began with fear, yet that morphed into curiosity, creativity, and acceptance. From Susannah to the class: "My dearest wish for you this week is to create an image of yourself that you like. It doesn't have to be The Best Self Portrait Ever--just one that you can look at and quietly say: I like this one." This quotation is about self portraiture, but it also applies to life. What if each week we looked inside ourselves (at the happy, sad, playful, embarrassing, real stuff), and accepted something new: I really like ____ about me. What a wonderful wish for us all.

Wholeness

In my living room, I have a "nest." It's a big, comfy chair with a fleece quilt. Next to my nest is a table that holds my current stack of reading. And under the table is my craft box and another box that contains my journals and assorted comforts. Right now my stack of reading is a book of lovely photographs (A Year of Mornings), and two other books that currently speak to my heart: Ordinary Sparkling Moments by Christine Mason Miller and A Hidden Wholeness by Parker Palmer. These latter two books focus on authenticity, wholeness, creativity, and listening to your true inner voice (not the habituated, judgmental ego voice). 

From Parker Palmer: "The strongest evidence for true self comes from seeing what happens when we try to live as if we did not have one." I hear you, buddy! For many years a denied my true self. Of course, parts of it peaked out now and then, but I didn't live my life intentionally. I lived my life completely focused on externals: Do people like me? Have I achieved enough? Am I good enough in other people's eyes? Am I thin enough? Do I work out enough? Will I get tenure? Do my students and colleagues respect me? Shouldn't I do more, achieve more, help more, entertain more, in order to be lovable?

That was a very difficult place to inhabit. Although I still struggle to live each moment authentically, I do live more moments authentically, and it's much easier for me access my centered, whole, true self. And to trust I can always get back there, no matter what happens. This all takes great mindfulness. In the beautiful words of Mary Oliver ("Low Tide"): "This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists, and that it is built entirely out of attentiveness" [emphasis mine].

To access my true self, I must allow for many things: space, solitude, creativity, awareness, connection, and reflection. And trust. Trust in myself, my wholeness, my goodness. This all takes great (HUGE) attentiveness. Some days it's there, and other days are a whirlwind of busyness. But every day is a blessing--a new experience from which I can learn and become more whole. 

A close friend of mine gave me a beautiful angel with lovely reminder phrases on it (e.g., "Unleash your joy" "Be yourself" "Embrace vulnerability"). I keep it in my office, and whenever I look at it, I smile:

PS I previously blogged a funny story about my Real Self.

Hibernation AND Color?

Winter brings reduced daylight and temperature, and thus is a natural time for hibernation. I often welcome this hibernation. (Well, I've learned to make peace with the winter, and healthful hibernation is part of this peace.) It's a time when I sleep more, make fewer plans, eat hearty soups & bread, travel less, and generally try to slow down. These are all lovely things. Yet it's also possible (likely?) for healthful hibernation to turn into a general feeling of "blah."

This week in photography class we worked on light, color, pattern, & texture. In particular, I thought much about color--not just in photography, but in my life. When healthful hibernation turns into ugh (perhaps because of lack of light and too much pattern), then we can look for color & texture. These are the things that not only make photos pop, but they make our lives pop. They give us a little skip in our step during a dreary January day.

What I speak of is a balance (as is most of life). A balance between {hibernation, slowing down, & nurture} and {color, celebration, & creation}. So my new peace with winter includes not only embracing hibernation, but also purposefully looking for and creating rich color & texture around that hibernation: sleeping & dancing, cooking & eating out (even on a week night!), moping & taking a long walk, self-reflection & connection with others, slowing down & enjoying myself. We'll see how the journey proceeds. (Check back with me at the end of February. :))

White Space

I'm taking a wonderful online photography class, Photo Meditations, from Susannah Conway. During the first week, we're learning about and experimenting with composition. One of the (many) compositional elements is white space (or negative space).  From Susannah: "The negative space gives the viewer’s eye a place to rest while supporting the main subject." A place to rest.

What about the white space in our daily lives? Where in our schedules do we allow rest, reflection, restoration, or simply space to breathe deeply? When I feel assaulted by life, it's a good reminder to make some white space. To truly allow for life to happen; for life to interrupt. When I feel overscheduled, I get annoyed when life happens. There's just not enough space & softness in which I can rest & release--both into the difficulties of life and the joys of life.

My mind is really active during the first week of the term. And my schedule is typically busy, too. But this weekend I have space. I'm grateful for the gentle reminder that space is needed--a place for my mind, body, & spirit to rest. In fact, I'll end here, so I can treat myself to a nap!

Belonging

It's human nature to want to be liked and to belong. This is something with which I struggle. I want people to like me--in fact, to love me. I want this from my family, friends, students,  and colleagues. Yet when I push for this--that is, external affirmations rather than internal centeredness--I lose sight of my authenticity.

In his book, The Courage to Teach, Parker Palmer openly talks about a class where he fervently tried to engage one particular student; and in doing so, he lost his focus and the bigger-picture of learning. He lost the entire class by focusing on being liked by one student. Such is the human condition. And, as a teacher who really wants my students to learn (and to respect and like me!), I can relate.

Recently I read an interview with Desmond Tutu. When asked about the trait he least likes about himself: the fact that he loves to be loved. Yes, that external validation is SO alluring. Our egos can turn it into the reality--the thing for which we must strive. But, when we constantly search  for okay-ness outside of ourselves, we actually lose our connection. That is, authentic connection is a very different thing from belonging.

Connection comes from a deep self-awareness that we are okay just the way we are. When we are connected (to others & to ourselves), we believe in our basic goodness. When we long to be loved, we doubt our basic goodness. True connection is filling; the search for belonging is depleting.

Every day, I walk the path between wanting to be loved and knowing in my heart I am okay. When I'm mindful, I fully understand that trusting my authentic self actually leads to more connection, more learning, more loving, & more happiness. I know this in my heart, yet I must continue to remind myself. Such is the life path--a path on which I'm grateful to travel, and on which I know I have much (connected) company.