Month: January 2019

A Trick of Loss – Day Sixty

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Photo by L. Weikel

A Trick of Loss

As I mentioned in a recent post, there are a lot of people in my life who seem to be going through a lot of shit recently. This may be new shit, or it may be older shit they’ve been enduring for a while or what maybe feels like an eternity. And recently, when they thought their shit should be settling down or getting a little easier, they feel like they’ve received a fresh and quite unexpected dump to endure.

Sorry for the scatological references, but sometimes that’s just the way it feels. And sometimes it just feels like the best way to describe the stuff we see happening all around us.

So Much Resilience and Courage

I spent time, both in person and long distance, with a variety of people dear to me today. And all of these people are facing challenges that I dare say no one would electto experience. Yet each of them, while handling each unique challenge in its appropriately different manner, is nevertheless enduring, courageously prevailing, and manifesting resilience in ways that command admiration and honor.

One particular situation I am thinking about this evening is a friend’s marking of an anniversary – the anniversary of a sudden death. A life partner swept away without a goodbye. Without any cherished final moments. Just…gone.

The One Year Anniversary

I know my friend has been dreading the one year anniversary because, let’s face it: who among us who’ve lost anyone truly dear to us hasn’t marked not only the anniversary of our loss, but also the one day, one week, one month, two month, three month markers since that fateful rending of our normality?

But there’s something about ‘one year.’ It feels momentous. I think in some ways, we hope, deep down, that the pain will miraculously lessen. The trauma won’t feel quite so acute.

And in some ways that sort of happens. Kind of.

But what has come as an odd revelation to me is how the actual arrival of the anniversary day is anti-climactic. It is not that the pain is less acute. No, the anniversary is the anniversary. And it is virtually inevitable that you will relive almost minute-by-minute how that fateful day unfolded one year ago.

Surprise: It’s Anti-Climactic

But in truth, you’ve lived and relived and hashed and rehashed that day so many times already, that doing it yet again on the exact one year anniversary almost seems like eating a stale sandwich.

The reason this is so is because the really tricky, shitty part about grief is that it gets you when you’re not quite paying attention. It sneaks up on you and hits you when you’re driving down the road and you pass a cornfield where a sudden, unbidden memory of a joke you shared wallops you between the eyes. It sneaks up on you when you think about the way they looked at you the last time you saw them and casually gave them a kiss. Or the finger.

And those are the things that you feel are going to all rear their ugly heads en masse on ‘the day of the anniversary.’ But they don’t. Not really.

That’s because in the four or five or seven or ten days before the anniversary you’ve already relived those wrenching moments that caught you like a gut-punch at various times throughout the year.

Yeah, it’s the several days before the actual anniversary that are the shittiest. Not only because you’re reliving memories, unbidden and relentless, setting them up in anticipation of the parade of them to be experienced on The Day. But also because precious few others are aware you are going through your own private hell of anticipation.

Grief is a Trickster

And so we get to The Day. We slog through it. We do the stale sandwich reliving of each moment. And there’s almost a sense of disappointment when the pain isn’t quite so breathtaking. Did we do it wrong? Why wasn’t it a more perfectly exquisite grief?

Because grief is a trickster. It took its toll days earlier, weeks earlier. And it’ll whack us again. But never when we most expect it. And it will never feel quite the same. It shifts every time it strikes.

Tomorrow, the day after, will be different. Better in some ways; not so much in others. But the pressure of somehow making sacred that milestone will be relieved, and that, in itself, is the gift.

And even though I didn’t say it, I’ve been holding that space for my friend since the beginning of this month, knowing it was happening. Feeling it. Doing my best to hold the center.

I’m sure we’re all doing this for each other. I know I’m continuing to hold it for many. You know who you are (even if you don’t).

That’s what love is all about.

(T-1051)

I Got Nothin’ – Day Fifty Nine

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I Got Nothin’

I’ve shown up every night for 59 days, trusting I would have something to write about. But tonight? I got nothing’. I know I said at the very beginning of this 1111 Devotion journey that there might be days when I would write one sentence and that would have to suffice.

But I hoped it wouldn’t actually come to that.

And I guess it hasn’t literally come to that today, either, since I’ve obviously written more than one sentence. (Umm, yea for me?)

Get Out Of Jail Free Card

So I’m in the clear. I’ve saved myself from using my Get Out Of Jail Free card tonight.

Which makes me wonder: How many GOOJF cards do I get in the 1111 Devotion? Since I’m making up the rules as I go along, I’d say 111 seems fair. Ten percent. What do you think?

In the grand scheme of things, that might appear reasonable (10%). But wow. Looking at it from the perspective that 10% would give me 111 whole, actual, days of only writing one sentence seems crazily over the top. That’s just shy of four months if I strung them all together.

Funny how perspective can shift everything, isn’t it?

That’s the cool thing about shamanic work, actually. (Bet you didn’t see that correlation coming out of left field, did you?)

Perception and Perspective

But it’s true. So much of what we experience in our day-to-day lives and in our world in general is rooted in our perceptions. And as we learn and grow more adept at shifting our perception, we actually gain the ability to begin shifting our reality in ways we might never have imagined.

And part of how we perceive anything is the perspective from which we look at it. But obviously, before we can shift our perspective, we have to realize what our present one is. How are we looking at something? Is it from a place of fear? Of feeling magnanimous and abundant? Is it from a place of feeling centered and at peace?

There are those varying perspectives we can consider, and then there are different levels of perception we can employ to shift our reality. But again, we first have to train ourselves to become aware of the different levels so we can identify what one we are looking at or perceiving from at any given moment.

So here I am, starting a conversation on how important both perspective and differing levels of perception can completely influence our experience of ‘reality.’ And I’m also suggesting that shamanic work can result in dramatic shifts in not only our perceptions, and perspectives, but also our realities.

That’s some pretty heady stuff to be contemplating right around midnight. Or the crack of dawn, if that’s when you’re reading this.

Checking Our Perspective – Occasionally

Just think about it. If you were told you had only one more month to live, would you look at anything the same way as you are in this present moment? That’s a radical question to ask any of us to contemplate, even if it might be some people’s actual reality. And we might be inclined to judge it as just a dumb intellectual exercise, since it can feel like we are bullshitting ourselves if we really try to imagine looking at ourselves from the perspective of knowing we only have one more month (or week, or day) to live.

But I do think it is helpful, sometimes, to take a personal re-set. To really sit down and think about how we are choosing to perceive our life, our circumstances, our relationships, and even our world, at any given time. Are we looking at these things from the default perspective that ‘things will never change?’ That, it seems to me, is an even greater bullshitting of ourselves than the former.

Ha ha – maybe I should’ve stopped at that one sentence and let things be.

Naaah. I still have 111 in my back pocket. Or do I?

(T-1052)

Weird Day – Day Fifty Eight

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Photo by wsj.com

Weird Day

The weather was cranky and miserable today, mirroring a lot of people’s moods, I suspect. It feels like no one knows what to expect anymore. We sort of lurch from day to day, hoping nothing earth shattering (either literal or figurative) happens.

I’m noticing this sense of edginess all around us, from the micro level to the macro. So many people are dealing with really big  – I’m talking tectonic – shifts in their lives and reality. From continents to countries, states, and towns to people world-wide, nation-wide, and all around us. Quite possibly right in our very own homes. Radical change is upon us.

And we need to know we’re not alone.

Holding the Center

Those of us who may not be experiencing direct seismic activity in our lives at this moment  need to hold the center for those who are feeling the ground move beneath their feet and watching structures they never thought would crumble do so.

Indeed, I had a long conversation today with a good friend who has had her share of times in the wringer. She, too, is feeling the present sense that her energy is best spent in holding the center, being a light, allowing others to reach out and hold her hand as the gale force winds buffet them and threaten to sweep them away.

And that takes energy.

It’s hard sometimes to appreciate just how much energy it takes to hold a calm and peaceful center for others (and ourselves). And it can look from the outside as if we’re not doing anything, which can sometimes make our contributions easier to ignore or at least remain unappreciated. And certainly, for some of us at least, we have no way of being compensated for our efforts. Even if we could quantify it, we probably wouldn’t.

We Need Each Other

All of which is to say: we need each other. And we need to be vigilant in these chaotic times to pay attention to each other and listen. Because sometimes the ones who seem to be holding it all together are actually hanging on by the thinnest of gossamer threads.

The good news is, gossamer threads can be woven together and become nearly indestructible in the blink of an eye. So, it feels like we should honor that possibility. Keep an eye on each other, and take care not to necessarily buy the ‘looks great on the outside’ façade. Listen to each other with our entire beings (and not just our ears).

I feel like a lot of the people I know and love are going through some really trying shit right now. And I want you to know, I’m doing my best to hold the center. You’re not alone.

 

(T-1053)

Return of the Mongols – Day Fifty Seven

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Massive statue of Chinggis Khaan, Mongolia – Photo by L.Weikel

Return of the Mongols

OK, I know. I’m weird. I love me my Tuvan throat singing and I’ve not been shy in sharing that love with you, my peeps.

If you recall, I mentioned that even though I refer to throat singing in general as ‘Tuvan’ throat singing, it actually originated in and is endemic to the culture of southwestern Siberia (the Altai region), south central Siberia (Tuva), and Mongolia.

Of course, that’s because all of the political boundaries separating these countries didn’t exist back when throat singing originated. But just as there are languages, and dialects within those languages, that share a common root, the same applies to the phenomenon of throat singing.

Mongolian Folk-Metal

I’ve already given you a flavor of throat singing from the Altai Republic. And then some examples of Tuvan throat singing. Tonight I’m going to give you a fascinating and modern take on this form of singing by introducing you to The Hu, a Mongolian folk-metal band. Yeah. You read that right. Folk-metal.

And it is some crazy awesome music, if I do say so myself.

Beyond loving the 21stcentury interpretation of my beloved throat singing, I find the cinematography in the video for this song (Yuve Yuve Yu) succeeds in capturing aspects of the astounding beauty of the Mongolian landscape.

I have to admit that the lyrics to this song stir something deep within me also. I resonate with the desire of these musicians to urge their Mongolian kin to reconnect with the legendary ferocity of their ancestors and their astonishingly successful leader. Their ferocious nature, though, remains an unmistakable core thread of their being, no matter where you look or whom you meet.

Reconnecting to the Ferocity of Life

But the ferocity is not what you might expect, meaning war-like or antagonistic expression. Rather, the Mongolians and southern Siberians (Tuvans) I’ve met live ferociously. They love and laugh and share themselves with a wildness and intensity that mirrors the harsh environment in which they live: the vast steppes, mountains, and taiga.

Indeed, I’ve learned a lot more about Chinggis (Ghengis) Khaan since traveling to Tuva in 2003 and then returning to Mongolia and southern Siberia in 2017. Fascinatingly, his values and beliefs resulted in the Mongols being instrumental in cultivating and disseminating education, literacy, and religious freedom throughout their vast empire.

There is something to the inherent wildness of the steppes and the nomadic way of life that appeals to me at the deepest level. Granted, much has changed in the way many Mongolians and Tuvans live, including moving to cities, such as Irkutsk, Kyzyl, and Ulaanbaatar. I feel it is the wild essence that The Hu are calling their countrymen and women to remember and reclaim.

I need to post. Maybe I’ll write more about this another time… In the meantime, I hope you groove to this as much as I do.

Sculpture in Main Square of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia – photo by L. Weikel

(T-1054)

Goodness – Day Fifty Six

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“Watercolor Sunset” photo by L Weikel

Goodness

I just finished watching the Golden Globe Awards. I knew I’d regret watching all the way until the end of the program (vis-à-vis writing this post), but for whatever reason, I kept watching.

The movies that were nominated for Best Drama were an eclectic conglomeration, and the actors, both male and female, nominated for Best of their respective categories were also an interesting mixture of ages and characters (both on and off screen).

The tenor of the awards on the whole felt a bit melancholy to me. Or maybe I’m just projecting.

The entertainment industry in many ways not only influences our culture but also reflects it, and I’m not sure which comes first. Or I should say, I’m not sure whether we or the industry are the chicken.

The recipients of the last several awards bestowed, which are the reason I started writing this post later than even my usual ‘late,’ were worth the fleeting sacrifice of time. They were worth it because they each displayed what appeared to me to be grace and class.

Grace and Class

The attributes of grace and class are sorely needed in our society and in our hearts right now. We all know it. We all feel it. Obviously, that’s a sweeping statement, and I cannot truly speak for ‘all’ of us or ‘all’ of anything. But wow.

Watching Carol Burnett receive the first annual award in her name with her famous humor and genuine compassion for her co-workers and the opportunity provided her by her grandmother, and then watching the audience’s reception and loving appreciation of Dick Van Dyke…both of these moments were touching and tender. The poignancy of these moments was made even more tangible by the fact that both of these people are not only icons of entertainment. They’re good people.

And that, too, was a theme that was curiously present throughout the evening: when presenters or even recipients wanted to bestow truly profound praise on another, they made a point of appreciating the other’s inherent and basic goodness.

Goodness

Buttressing my blanket statement, above, is something I know I personally feel, but also sense is felt in a vast majority of our country: the need for a balm of goodness to soothe our raw and weeping souls.

We are bombarded on a daily basis with more and more selfishness and callous disregard of pretty much anyone else’s cares or concerns, safety, health, or even life. And it is hurting all of us. We know we aren’t like that; and we know most of the people around us aren’t, either. And yet we see and know it is all around us. Drowning us in hate and fear.

Thus, I was touched to watch Glenn Close react in complete and utter obvious surprise to her win for Best Actor (Actress) for her role in The Wife. Her acceptance touched me, particularly her dedication of her win to her mother, whom Close said had sublimated herself to her husband her whole life, only to admit regret for ‘not accomplishing’ anything right before she passed away in her 80s.

And Rami Malek, winning for his portrayal of Freddie Mercury of Queen – his acceptance was also filled with incredible humility, grace, and class. But when the film, Bohemian Rhapsody, also won for Best Picture, it was astonishing, really, to watch this young man deliberately stand aside in order to have all the attention and accolades go to the producer of the film and the remaining band mates of Mercury.

Mostly in body language, but conveyed in a language anyone with eyes to see could appreciate, this young man was behaving with inherent and absolutely lovely goodness.

I need to end this now. But my heart is a little less heavy having witnessed the goodness tonight. I hope it is a reflection of our culture, and a reclamation and affirmation of who we truly are.

(T-1055)

Khoomei – Day Fifty Five

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Photo by Ilya Naymushin

Khoomei

Based on some of the comments I received since last night’s post, I thought I might write a little more about Tuvan throat singing.

Technically, I suppose, I should just call it ‘throat singing’ and not add the ‘Tuvan’ adjective. This is especially true since just last night I enjoyed the skilled performance of Altai Kai – a group from the Altai Republic in southwestern Siberia.

Throat singing, which is technically a type of overtone singing, is often referred to as Tuvan throat singing, khoomei, and sometime Mongolian throat singing. I’ve mostly heard it referred to as either Tuvan throat singing or simply khoomei.

Republic of Tuva – South-Central Siberia

Just east of the Altai Republic (which is actually now part of Russia) is the Republic of Tuva, which, perhaps oddly enough, I consider one of my homelands.

Yes, I know; it’s hard to comprehend how or why I could consider it so. But the knowledge and feeling within is visceral; it is without a doubt a spiritual homeland to me. Prior to 2003, I never would have imagined this could be my experience, and yet…

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, when I experienced my first auditory experience of Tuvan throat singing (before I actually went to Siberia a few months later), it sent shock waves through my system. The CD I was listening to was a great introduction: Back Tuva Future and featured Kongar-Ol Ondar, probably one of the greatest Tuvan throat singers ever. Ondar was hugely instrumental in bringing awareness of this form of singing to the United States in the ‘90s, and tragically died in 2013, only 51 years old. Willy Nelson collaborated on that album, which added an interesting twist, too.

Bert Dag – Home Away From Home

I didn’t realize it at the time, but listening to that album over and over, I was actually being schooled in some of Tuva’s most popular folk songs. This was brought home to me when I was visiting a very small village in the south of Tuva called Bert Dag.

One of the first days I was in Bert Dag, the families who were aware of my visit proudly called me outside to meet this adorable, seemingly shy little boy – he could only have been 3 or 4 as I recall – so I could hear him sing for me. Not only did this tiny person start singing some khoomei (which, when you hear that guttural sound emanating from a man or woman, it’s one level of amazing – but resonating out of a little boy?), but he was also singing one of the songs I recognized from the CD! Indeed, it was one that speaks of the loss of their homeland and makes my heart ache every time I hear it.

Wow – thanks for that memory.

I realize I’m not giving you much more information on this traditional technique in this post. But beyond the links I provided yesterday, and above, here is another group that I had the great fortune to listen to and experience up close and personal twice, just this year: Alash Ensemble. I saw them in both Connecticut and Flemington, NJ.

In closing out this post, I just want to say that in my experience, khoomei is not just an art form. It is also a gateway to shamanic travel (journeying).

Hmmmm.

(T-1056)

Take a Chance – Day Fifty Four

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Take a Chance

You never know how a day is going to turn out.

I’d expressed an interest in attending a program tonight in NYC several weeks ago, and then forgot about it.

The Rubin Museum is an absolute treasure. I’ve been to several programs there and every single one has been well worth the trip.

The program that was scheduled for tonight at the Rubin was Altai Kai – a world-renowned throat-singing ensemble from the Altai region of Siberia. If you’re not familiar with throat-singing, it is hard to describe with words. Similar to shamanism, you have to experience it to truly appreciate it.

Indeed, hearing throat singing for the very first time caused me to spontaneously burst into tears. Not because I was offended or frightened by what I heard emanating from my car’s speakers but because it reached right into the center of my chest and pierced my heart. It spoke to me in a way I’d never experienced music before. And that extremely unexpected occurrence sealed my fate of actually taking a trip to the former Republic of Tuva (now a part of Russia) in 2003.

And that trip ended up being my literal and completely unexpected initiation into shamanism.

But that’s a story for another day. Suffice it to say, though, throat-singing is near and dear to my heart.

So I’d tossed out the idea to Karl that we might want to attend this concert tonight and we’d agreed it might be fun. And then we just put it on the back burner. Wait and see.

Yesterday, we suddenly remembered that this was a possibility. I contacted the Rubin and almost bought the tickets – but had the possibility of a session with a client today and didn’t want to make plans that might have to be canceled. So I held off.

Turned out that the session never took place today, so I logged on to order the tickets and – you guessed it – they were sold out.

We were so bummed out. Checking further on the website, I could see they had a process for a waiting list – but you had to sign up for it in person – and not a moment before 5:00 p.m. (the concert started at 7:00). And then you had to show up again at 6:50 p.m., again in person, to see if you were lucky enough to be given the opportunity to buy some tickets at the last minute.

Why Not?

After only a moment, we just looked at each other and said, “Why not?”

So we took a risk. We threw caution to the wind and left for NYC at 3:00 p.m. Wow, we made fantastic time. In fact, we got to the Museum at 4:45 – and they wouldn’t let us sign up for the wait list literally until the stroke of 5:00!

We grabbed a quick dinner and made our way back to The Rubin.

Didn’t we see my niece and nephew (who’d introduced us to the magic of The Rubin to begin with) sitting at a table in the lobby? They, too, had put themselves on the waiting list and were hoping to have their name called at 6:50. (I guess procrastination might run a tad in my family?)

We hadn’t even realized the other would be there – and neither of us had contacted the other because we knew we hadn’t been able to buy tickets ahead of time.

Turned out all four of us got in! And it was a great concert. Just…amazing.

I hope you enjoy the taste of the Altai Kai, above.

And next time you have a chance to take a chance? Do it.

(T-1057)

Calling Myself Out – Day Fifty Three

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Calling Myself Out

I’m wondering how you’re all doing today. I don’t know about you, but my days of the week are all screwed up. I don’t know if I’m starting the week or ending it.

I’ve started about five different iterations of tonight’s post and scrapped them all. I guess I don’t want to waste your precious time on blah-blah-blah, and what I’ve been coming up with has definitely been classic blah-blah-blah.

So let’s see, what am I thinking about?

I found myself welling up a couple of times with pride and hope while watching the news tonight. The diversity of the freshman class of Representatives in the House is phenomenal. And to see in their eyes and demeanors the depth of respect these incoming Reps have for the honor of serving our country and the excitement they have for the prospect of making a difference makes my heart swell.

Serving Our Country

It also frustrates me a little. If I’m honest, I have to admit that I’d love to be in government. I’d love to serve my country in that way. But I’ve always known I’d never be electable – for a myriad of reasons, what I ‘do’ for a living now being an especially obvious reason.

But let’s face it; I speak my mind way too much, too. And my poker face would be non-existent when listening to people lie. Good grief, I think I would’ve had a hard time serving in government back when people were collegial and respectful of basic norms of integrity and decency. But now? I’d strain a muscle trying to muzzle myself from calling out bullshit.

If there was something I secretly aspired to as an attorney, it was to become a judge. I pride myself on my ability to listen with an open mind to anyone and everyone, and give even the most egregious conduct or bizarre positions the dignity of being heard while maintaining impartiality. But becoming a judge where I live and work(ed) as an attorney necessitates becoming a political animal. Hence, I knew I was doomed. I’m just not cut out to say and do what apparently needs to be said or done to get elected.

Sometimes We Need To Relinquish Aspirations

So that’s one set of aspirations I sincerely held that I needed to relinquish fairly early in my life, in spite of my law degree. And yet it frustrates me still, especially in our present era, when we are constantly asked to ‘be the change.’ And to ‘make a difference.’

This is not a poor me post. It’s a simple reaction to my heartfelt pride in witnessing our country finally electing so many women (I think the figure is 100 in this 100th year since women gained the right to vote) and particularly women of such rich and varied backgrounds. And wishing I could be a part of that movement.

One moment I saw that particularly caused me to shed a tear of shared joy was witnessing the two Native American women embracing and shedding tears themselves. And there were so many other great stories. Stories that embody the American Dream, like the freshman Representative from Colorado, I believe, whose parents were refugees from Eritrea (Joe Neguse). This is what our country is all about!

So, I guess the point of this post is to both celebrate a new era in our nation’s politics, and also reveal the obvious: that we don’t always get to manifest our secretly held dreams. At least I didn’t.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.

(T-1058)

Never Too Late – Day Fifty Two

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Never Too Late

As we’re only drawing to a close the 2ndday of January (or for many of you, just beginning the 3rd), I’m trusting that the lustre of choosing to bring something nurturing or stimulating or creative into your life, as I encouraged in my New Year’s Eve post, has not yet worn off. And remember: it’s never too late to begin.

I find the thought of ‘bringing in’ new experiences or activities to our lives, and hopefully making them habit-worthy, simply tantalizing. I can’t wait to see and hear about how your new devotions play out in your perception and appreciation of your lives.

Discovering Doors to Our Future

It’s as if we’re opening a door to our future that we’ve barely even allowed ourselves to see before now. When we’ve looked in that direction other times, all we’ve seen is a wall because we needed to make ourselves perfect before giving ourselves permission to indulge in an urge to create something uniquely ours or engage in something that simply brings us joy.

And yes, even bringing in the opportunity to read more books is a creative endeavor. Because reading inspires us to live in so many more worlds than we realize could exist if we simply view our own experiences in our own finite bodies to be the limit of what is available to us.

The opportunity, though, to indulge in exploring an activity that has called to us, perhaps in a whisper for the first few years, but which has probably grown louder and more persistent as the years ticked by, can lead us places we might never, ever expect. And while the point of this new perspective is, essentially, to give ourselves permission to listen to our hearts, it can also lead to people outside of ourselves clamoring for more. Or to our passion saving the world. Or maybe even changing the course of history.

Early Choices Shouldn’t Define Us

In our youth-obsessed world, we often tell ourselves that we have to decide what we want to ‘be’ or ‘do’ with our lives by the time we’re 18. Some people are given leeway and permitted to explore who they are and what they want to ‘do’ in the world by taking a variety of courses in college.

I don’t know about you, but that was a myth for me (and I went to college a long damn time ago). You pretty much had to pick the area you wanted to get your degree in and were lucky if you got the chance to take a couple of electives in completely unrelated fields during your entire four (or so) years. Which makes me suspect that it’s even much more rare for young people attending college now to actually explore in that mythical, idealistic portrait painted of college life. It costs too much to lollygag around taking courses you will almost certainly see no tangible monetary benefit from taking.

I bring this up because I feel the vast majority of people walking around today were thrust far too early into making choices that influence everything about the rest of their lives. And they’re left wondering – even if only fleetingly, and ever so quietly to themselves – what it would feel like to immerse their fingers in paint and try to capture the beauty of that bluebird they saw perched on a fencepost along their walk.

As a result, we just deny, deny, deny. “I’m too old.” “It’s too late.” “I don’t know how.” “I have no time.” Oh, the excuses we mouth, each one of them killing our spirit a little bit more with each utterance.

Late Bloomers Are Real

Well, I want to hook you up to a very cool website that just might inspire you to keep up with whatever activity you decided to invite into your life this year.

The website is Later Bloomer, and is created by a friend of mine, Debra Eve. We met way back in 2014 at a writers’ conference in Taos, New Mexico.

I will let you explore her site and perhaps sign up to receive her weekly emails which always have something fascinating to teach me about the possibilities open to us simply by choosing to say yes to our passions instead of making excuses. Or feeling as if we missed the boat when we made life choices at 18 or 22. Or 30. Or…

Indeed, just today I received notification from Debra of a wonderful calendar she’s created for 2019 around the concept of ‘red letter days.’ Check it out.

This year is going to be different, you guys. I know it.

(T-1059)

Living in the Future – Day Fifty One

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Living in the Future

It’s hard not to get ahead of myself sometimes. When I’m pleased or feel excited, I tend to extrapolate and imagine how cool things will be “when _______ happens.” (And no, I’m not encouraging you to play Cards Against Humanity in this post. Although…that could be amusing. And you know which among you would eagerly offer a shockingly off-color suggestion for that blank.)

What I mean is, there’s a part of me that was, as my Irish sisters say, “chuffed” when I got to my 50thpost. And instead of just ‘being’ with that good feeling, I started extrapolating. “When I get to this day next year, I’ll be into the 400s! I’ll be writing my 415thpost!”

Aaarggh. I do not want to do that to myself! And yet I know it’s human nature and therefore futile to hope I won’t succumb to this temptation – and often. But it sure is tedious, always ‘moving the bar,’ so to speak, and assuming the elusive next goal will be way better and more impressive to achieve than this one. And what does it get me?

N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

Nothing at all. Except it does manage to snatch my present sense of accomplishment from the jaws of a healthy, yet un-inflated, self-esteem. Always keeping myself guessing, I suppose.

But I mention this not because I remained in that mind-space. I saw where my habitual thinking wanted to take me and I snagged it, brought it back, and stomped it into unconsciousness. (Just kidding! Seeing if you were paying attention.)

No, I saw where my habitual thinking wanted to take me and I did indeed snag it. But I just rolled my eyes, laughed at myself, and hoped I’d make it to #51, while enjoying the simple pleasure of having reached the 50th. And I’m mentioning all of this because I firmly believe we all need to remember that we’re not here to be perfect!

No matter how hard we try, we’re not perfect. And we’ll never be perfect. Why? Because perfection is not only unattainable. It’s boring. And we wouldn’t learn anywhere near as much as we do living in our imperfection.

Perfection is Unattainable (and Boring)

We’re not going to find much, if any, profound and meaningful satisfaction with either ourselves or how we’re meeting our commitments by reaching some arbitrary, magical number of posts published, journal pages written, photos taken, or books read per month. The sooner we realize that, the better.

And trust me, I remember when I used to think every one else could strive for – or be satisfied by – mediocrity, but I was different. I would persist. I would do ‘it’ (whatever exacting standard I set for myself) through sheer force of will. And man, while I would not trade the level of success I generally enjoyed for my efforts, I would lighten up just a little on the jumping into the future gig. Because as cliché as it sounds, it is sheer insanity to pin all your happiness on the successful attainmentof a goal, on breaking the tape, or on writing that 1111th post.

The test of our humanity is to figure out the trick of living our lives in fullness and balance as we strive toward accomplishing that goal.

And by that I mean setting a goal (i.e., committing to writing 1111 consecutive blog posts), and finding a sense of satisfaction and healthy pride in oneself every day a post gets published. Extra credit for those days when a post has the effect of speaking to the hearts of those who read it, for those are precious.

There is something to be said for showing up. For being willing to not always be some shining example of awesomeness that you wish others would perceive you as being. But if we’re honest? The ones we’re actually trying hardest to impress are the exacting bastards that live inside of us.

They’re tamable. At least I’m determined to give you a glimpse of how I make the effort to live with them. In balance. Here’s to 2019. May we LIVE this together! In perfect imperfection!

(T-1060)