WCW.

Winter writing.

"Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin."
-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

It's Wednesday.

In officially honoring WCW (who comes up with these anyways?) Natalie Goldberg, I choose you.  

Start Where You Are.

Start where you are.

It's the best advice, really.  It's asking a lot to make someone who is used to eating 3 fast-food meals a day to immediately adopt an organic plant-based diet.  So we start small.  We weave a green smoothie bursting with vital nutrients and raw energy into their day, and allow them to eat the rest of the meals however they desire.  It's interesting to watch the shift.  They feel better from that one single change, and this starts them on a new trajectory towards better health and well-being.  First fix the food- then watch in amazement how the other areas in their life unfolds.

Start where you are.  I love that.  It also applies in meditation, as Susan Piver writes:

In meditation, it is not helpful to be mad at yourself for the inability to be peaceful.  Start where you are.  Start with sorrow.  Start with rage.  Start with boredom/anxiety.  Start with high hopes.  Start with disappointment.  Start with your very own body, breath, and mind.  Your experience IS the practice.  There is nowhere else to go.  Within your own experience, the entire path can be found.

This is something I'm still learning to grasp.  Letting go of expectations, enjoying this precious moment, unattached from outcomes.  It's been a process of teaching my spirit to not be defined by external constructs and labels.  To be unattached from my annual income.  To be unattached from the notions of being a homeowner or a mother or a wife.  To be unattached from a certain number on the scale. 

Because really, we have everything we need, right here, right now.  We were born complete, with abundant love, joy, grace and creativity.

When you start where you are, sometimes you realize that where you are is just where you need to be.

When that happens, you can finally relax.

And be yourself. 

Be Merry and Bright.

I never took anti-depressants.  Because I had spin class.  We first met each other there, in that sweaty, hot room, two lonely people- escaping our momentary realities for an hour.  That lovely hour served as a dark refuge, where we sweated off our worries and heartache at 100 rpms.

The holes and voids we each harbored in our own hearts from past hurts remained open and raw.  We were shadow companions- two empty souls desperately trying to fill a space of another person we could never be.  We allowed the charades to continue because it felt comfortable and safe and we were both still so fragile and afraid of being cracked wide open again.  He would sleep soundly and sometimes snore, so I would go and sit by the window, looking out, feeling so incredibly alone.  It was cold, so I would wrap my arms around my legs.  I would cry.  I wanted him to wake up and comfort me, but he never did.

One day while he was at work, I decided to surprise him by cleaning his entire house.  He always joked about hiring a maid.  I was willing to play housewife.  I vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed the toilets and the showers, perhaps symbolically trying to cleanse us both from all the debris and dirt and grime from our similar pasts. 

As I brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and pushed the heavy vacuum back and forth to make symmetrical lines in the carpet, I heard it, shrill and loud- 

"HEATHER!  HEATHER!!"

My God.  I never liked that parrot, but now I hated him.  His parrot continued to scream and call out his ex's name while I finished vacuuming, the anger rising in me with every vacuum line emblazoned into the carpet.

In that moment it became crystal clear that I did not belong there.  I did not belong in this relationship.  Here I was, cleaning and trying so desperately hard to be loved, needed, wanted, cherished- and the sign, oh, it was so loud and clear.

Shortly after the parrot incident, the dust settled- literally and figuratively- on our relationship. We reached a point where we discovered it was much more draining to stay in something that felt superficial and convenient than dealing with the deeper, darker Truths that held the key to our freedom.  

I can only smile, smile lovingly, at my former self who knew no other way during those months than to stay.  Who had no other sense than to quietly endure and rationalize and sit with the suffering.  Who somehow thought that the persevering could negate the way she failed in her other relationships.  But sometimes staying is more painful than leaving.

I learned a powerful lesson during this time-  It's futile to spend any excess energy on someone whose ghosts of past relationships continue to echo in their hearts (or in their homes).  Pack up your cleaning supplies, you Merry Maid, and move on your merry way.

A Potter and His Clay.

Long exhale.
Boxes upon boxes of ceramics have been unpacked, priced and displayed.  Four years of ceramics, to be more exact.

I watched as my dad carefully inspected each one, explaining to me the special glaze he used.  I heard terms like "wabi-sabi" and a technique called "chattering" that produced a jagged but beautiful texture on the outside of the pot.  This isn't Crate and Barrel.  There are no matching 'sets.'  Each was uniquely crafted... formed, shaped and glazed as his hands and his heart felt inspired.  

My dad is soulful, real, authentic and true.  And so is his work.

Hope to see you at their house from 9-3pm tomorrow...

Gifts.

"If you are not afraid of the voices inside of you, 

you will not fear the critics outside you."  

-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Thank you, P, for the gift of this sunset and for books to help me get my insides down on the page.  I'm forever grateful.

A Different Approach.

Advice from Stanley Kunitz, on writing:

"Develop any other skill; turn to any other branch of knowledge; learn how to use your hands.  Try woodworking, bird watching, gardening, mushrooming, cooking, fishing, sailing, weaving, pottery, zoology, astronomy, cosmology, take your pick.  Whatever activity you engage in as trade or hobby, or field of study, will tone up your body and clear your head.  At the very least, it will help you with your metaphors."

My musical journal, of sorts...

Let's just say that lately, I've been working on my metaphors. 

The Ocean.

The beauty witnessed yesterday at Half Moon Bay...

The ocean-
Each day it witnesses
the playful laughter of children
unbounded by the constraints of life,
building sandcastles,
playing chase.

Each day it witnesses
lovers walking hand-in-hand,
it sees engagements and proposals being made,
commitments sealed, 
futures changed.

Each day it witnesses
photographers capturing its magnificent beauty
while others hide their eyes from its waves
as children are conceived underneath blankets
in between loving sighs and giggles.

The ocean-
Each day it witnesses 
the lonely and depressed who,
in their depths of uncertainty,
find solitude and comfort in the rhythmic
lapping of each new wave.

The ocean plays host to
the vastness of emotions and experiences
within the entire collection of human consciousness
that walk along its sandy shores.
Observing it-
Laughing at it?
Empathizing with it?

The sun sets,
concluding another day.
It watches as people pack their bags,
fold up their chairs, 
put away their cameras.

The sandy beach is slowly emptied.
The ocean waves continue to lap gently against the shore,
smoothing over the footprints,
leaving no trace of the day-
Cleansing, renewing and preparing-
for a new day
with new dreams.

Shut Up and Drive.

As a teenager, I loved the song "Shut Up and Drive" by Chely Wright.  I remember blasting it in my car on the way back from swim practice.  I also remember crying myself to sleep at night listening to those lyrics when I felt the first pangs of heartbreak...

Recently, I am learning more about the art of listening.  Too often, I would hear what people were saying, all while simultaneously thinking about what my response to them would be.  I was hearing them, thinking over what I would say, and not at all listening to them.

Sometimes as health professionals, we are so time-oriented.  We only have X number of minutes to spend with patients, and X number of minutes to teach/educate/obtain nutrition history.  I once heard a doctor say that if we only took the time to listen to patients, they would tell us everything that they needed in order to heal.  This has inspired me to be a better listener.

This means interrupting less, asking better questions, holding more space for them to talk.  And that in and of itself is healing and therapeutic.  In my experience so far, I've found that the end result is a more optimal destination that we've both reached together; something far more ideal than if I had talked at them or told them what to do.

My good friend can read my facial expressions really well.  He can tell right away from a split-second glance if I'm happy, stressed out, or upset.  During a challenging time in my life, sometimes he would put me in his car and just ask how I was doing.  My answers at first were superficial and concise- everything was bottled up inside like a big knot.  He knew it was only the first layer of the onion- I am too much of a deep-thinker and over-analyzer to just be "fine."

He would always keep driving, and as the road unfolded before us, slowly I was able to peel away the layers.  With each passing mile, I was able to understand and communicate and verbalize everything that I was experiencing.  He did not offer advice.  Like a good friend, he did what was best at the time- he just shut up and drove.  And by the time we returned, I felt like a huge emotional burden had been lifted from my shoulders.  I had more clarity and vision for my future and what I wanted.  And he hadn't really even said a word.

In our personal and work relationships, it's important to remember that giving advice isn't always the best thing.  Sometimes as a good friend or clinician, it's helpful to open the door to conversation, allowing space for the other person to be heard, and then steer wisely wherever the road and conversation leads.  I've found out that you'll both reach your destination happier and more fulfilled if you do one thing- Shut up and drive.