The bearable lightness of being…

I blogged a while back about a woman named, Jan Frazier, who wrote, When Fear Falls Away.  I had the opportunity to speak with her, recently, and it was a treat, indeed.  Her voice is as soothing as her words, and one can actually believe that expansiveness and peacefulness are possible just by listening to her speak.

One of the things she mentioned to me about her awakening is that she felt such utter compassion for the person she had been as she looked back on her life.  She said is was an almost overwhelming sense that *no matter what*, she had always done the best she could do.  She knew this deeply as an awakened soul, despite how things may have looked for her in the past.

I just had a glimpse of this feeling.  I was rowing and listening to Krisha Das, while staring at one of my quilts hanging on the wall.  I thought about how I had made that quilt with my eyes, my hands, my arms, and my fingers.  Then I thought about all the things I have made, and all the things I have been able to do because I have a body, and how lucky was I to have been able to do any of them?  How could I possibly ever turn a critical eye to a wrinkle or a roll of fat if such wondrous things came from being in this particular body?

Maybe Jan wasn’t talking about the physical when she mentioned this feeling to me, but what I felt sure was compassion for my body.  I’m a judgmental old bore when it comes to putting myself under the microscope with a critical eye, and for a moment…an exquisite moment of reprieve, I felt compassion and true appreciation for the body in which I reside.

How cool is that?  How crazy is it that we don’t all feel this way, all the time?

As I truly start to sense what it is like to stop the madness of useless and hurtful thoughts, and live in a place of neutrality (at least), I realize that there is a whole other world just a hair’s breadth away from this one.  Jan is right.  It has been there the whole time, just waiting for me.  It’s waiting for you, too.  All of us.  Peace really is possible.

 

 

And so begins the task…

It’s been a long time since I’ve written.  Since March, actually, and it’s not so much that I haven’t had anything about which to write, I’ve just been focused on graduating from cosmetology school, and it certainly took a lot of bandwidth to do so.  As of July 29th, I can put a check in the box next to that endeavor!

Two weeks later (or there about), it is now, “New Career Eve”, as tomorrow I will begin my job as a hairstylist at LaSienne Salon & Day Spa.  I passed my written exam with a 93%, and will take my practical exam Monday, August 22nd at 8am.  After this final hurdle, I will officially be deemed a licensed cosmetologist.  Finally.

Even though it’s probably silly at this juncture to be nervous about stepping onto the salon floor tomorrow, I find that I am.  What is it about starting new jobs?  Though I feel confident in my ability to figure out the ‘lay of the land’ quite quickly, and in my abilities as a stylist, there is always that dreaded “new-kid-on-the-block” tinge.  Fortunately, it is somewhat like stage fright.  Once you actually get going, it dissolves quite quickly.  Let’s hope for that reprieve, indeed!

I’m proud of my accomplishments and am excited about this new venture!  Lee helped me set up my station last weekend, and he said, “you are going to have fun here…”.  What a perfect way to see this next phase in my life!  Fun! Having fun! 

Tomorrow is not just the first day of the rest of my life (thanks, Dad), or the first day at my new job, it is the first time in my life that I truly feel in harmony with what I am doing and who I am as a person, both inside and out.  I get to be the groovy hair stylist/artist I always wanted to be!

Now, that’s a day to celebrate!

 

Non-causal Joy…

I’m reading a book by a woman named, Jan Frazier.  It’s titled, “When Fear Falls Away:  A Story of a Sudden Awakening”.  I am fascinated by this story.  I want to be her, yet of a version that is exquisitely, me.  I want to be in the space she describes; fearless and joy-filled.  Connected and expanded…every day and all days.

I am not exactly sure what happened to this woman, and I doubt she really is, either, yet in essence; she asked to be free of her crippling fears, and was freed.  What followed for her was a complete transformation of herself as a person, and a new way of seeing and being in this world.

“Imagine this: whatever has weighed on you suddenly no longer weighs. It may still be there, a fact in your life, but it has no mass, no gravity. All that has ever troubled you is now just a feature of the landscape, like a tree, a passing cloud. Every bit of emotional and mental turmoil has ceased: the entire burden, some form of which has been with you as long as you can remember. A thing familiar as your closest friend — as much a part of you as the language you speak, the color of your skin — is utterly, inexplicably gone. Into the startling emptiness flows a quiet joy that buoys you morning, noon, and night, that goes everywhere you go, into any kind of circumstance, even into sleep. Everything you undertake happens effortlessly. You are happy, but for no reason. Nothing bothers you. You feel no stress. When a problem arises, you know what to do, you do it, and then you let it go. . . . Because your equanimity is disconnected from anything in your outer life, you know that no matter what challenge you are handed — for the rest of your life — the peace will sustain.”

Jan Frazier, book excerpt

Is this possible for me?  Can I ask for the same?  Am I ready?  I want so much to be ready.

If it’s a choice, I choose.  If I need but ask, I ask.  And, in the end, if all I need do is receive, then I receive…

Buttons

You know how most people have certain topics that tend to bring up a myriad of emotions when touched?  Things like, “wow, that really pushed her button”, might be heard in response after seeing such a thing.  I suppose we all have buttons, and I doubt that all are ‘negative’ or bad.  I probably have a button that when pushed reminds me of all the times I’ve been to the ocean.  Any and all oceans, and how good they always make me feel.

Most of the time, however, I notice that when one of my buttons is pushed, it sends off an alarm through ancient halls of crusty, beat up old emotions that come screaming out of hiding.  These fun-filled relics are generally reluctant to return to their dark existence.  They stomp around and rant and rave about their theme de jour, causing distress and unrest.

I’m going to shoot for clearing out all of this drab and used up crap in lieu of sending it back down to the depths, only to have it ‘re-booted’ should said button ever be pushed again.

I’m all for the notion of having buttons that no longer work.  Kind of like a doorbell that doesn’t resound throughout the house when pushed.

Sorry.  No one home…

 

 

Roommates…

Once upon a time, in a land not too far away from this one, lived two women; conjoined by birth, yet completely and utterly different from one another as any two beings can be.  Since there was no undoing the proximity they would always have to one another, they tried, initially, to get along.  This did not work well.

They took turns being ‘in charge’, yet their behaviors and beliefs were so contrary to one another’s that they appeared unstable, unreliable, and insane.  This also did not work.

Once upon a time soon after this time, a stranger approached the unlikely duo and made a simple and profound observation:  “Maybe the whole key to your existence is to understand that you don’t have to get along??  You don’t have to meld and mesh into one being?  What if it’s perfectly understandable that the best you can achieve is acceptance of one other?”

Whoa.  The two looked at each other and wondered how it would be if they stopped fighting?  What would it be like to just accept each other’s presence?  Would this be possible?  What would they do with their time if they didn’t have the perpetual struggle?

Perhaps they would have time.  Time to be…

This is a silly story, perhaps.  But…it is relevant.  I learned something today.  I learned that a truce is perfectly acceptable when you are dealing with your own personal demons.  A truce is acceptable when looking at contrary parts of your psyche.  Sometimes the easiest, most painless, and most enlightened road is that of the peaceful warrior.   When you lay down all the pre-conceived notions of how you should be, and how you should react, and what it is to be enlightened.  What if the kindest, most rational and sane thing you can *ever* do is to accept that which is?  The differences, the conflicts, the emotions, and all the ‘humanness” in which we are all intertwined?

What if?

Good, bad…right, wrong…

I saw the movie, Black Swan, recently.  It was OK, I guess.  Natalie Portman was pretty impressive in both her dancing and her acting, yet the overall story lacked some “meat” for me.  It does have me pondering the notion of duality and sanity, however.  I think I have blogged on this subject before, or at least touched upon it, so perhaps I am nuts and have multiple personalities…or, perhaps we all do… to some extent.

Once upon a time when I used to meditate more regularly, I would sometimes “see” a certain other aspect of me.  She was typically sulking in a chair, sort of defiantly un-groomed, with lots of anger about a lot of things.  I would think, “geez, why is this part of me so pissed off?”  I would try to engage this ‘me’ in conversation, in said meditation, yet it would usually just be a rant about all of the reasons why the anger was justified.

Maybe whenever we judge, condemn, criticize, or otherwise label a part of ourselves as “bad”, or “wrong”, or ” not good enough”, etc., etc…. we help create this personality that feels so slighted?  The part that eventually has a huge fodder on which to feed the anger.

I’m guilty of this, pretty much on a regular basis.  My overall sense of who I am is that I am a person who wants to be nice, play nice, and share my toys.  I do have my days, however, where this is not the case.  On such days, whenever I criticize myself, for being “selfish, or strict, or ungenerous, or inflexible”, perhaps I just add fuel to a never ending fire?  Maybe it’s ok to just acknowledge that you don’t always feel nice?  Don’t always feel like sharing, or being gracious?  Is that really so bad??

I’m not advocating for the negative, or for the willy nilly rampage of our more ‘unpleasant’ selves,  just wondering if the constant assignment of good or bad, or right or wrong is damaging to one’s psyche?  The whole adage of “what you resist, persists”.

I wonder if Natalie’s character in the movie hadn’t so severely separated the parts of her self, would there have been the eventual split?  What if she were to have been able to find a common ground between the two impulses?  What if she hadn’t assigned a label to the more wild and passionate ‘other self’?  What if she had accepted the fact that she was, indeed, a multi-faceted person?  Would she have held onto her sanity??

Hey. It’s a movie, right?  Perhaps she was just nuts and was doomed from the get go.  I don’t know… I just know it has me wondering…

 

 

Notes to self…

Dear Alison,

Would it be possible for you to become an island unto yourself?  Just imagine how nice it would be on said island.  Warm with a light breeze; lots of sun, white beaches, and a turquoise green sea.  You could take Bodie and he could chase crabs.  It sounds like fun…

 

Dear Alison,

Remember when we used to live on Easy Street?  Those were good times.  I hope we can live there again someday.

 

…About that island.  I think it sounds grand, don’t you?…

 

…Yours in friendship…

AAH

 

I intend…

Something about the word, “resolution” evokes for me an image of a person girding their loins and pursing their lips as they bravely take on a difficult task, endeavor, or the like.  Resolved.  Having resolve. It feels way too serious in my mind’s eye, and I think the word, “intend” is much more fluid and easily manifested, perhaps, when one is making new year-like statements.

I am someone who digs rituals.  I like the notion of a new beginning, whether it is ‘real’ or not, and I remain hopeful as I always do, that I can begin again, and anew, each new year.  A whole new me!  Bright , shiny, improved and re-booted.

The classic new year’s resolutions (see, that word is just too intense or something…) of quitting smoking (check: November 4th, 1999), or losing weight (sigh…continual desire) seem lacking in any real imagination.  So, I thought it might give an added “oomph” to my intentions for the new year if I were to list them out to read and re-read.  In no particular order, here are a few:

To graduate from cosmetology school.  Hopefully with the highest GPA and attendance record ever seen at Merrell University!  (of course, this shall be in addition to my having garnered as much knowledge and skill possible about being a stylist)…

To take deep breaths when stressed or worried and remember at those times that 100 years from now, none of it will matter anyway…

To be nicer to myself, first and foremost, with the intention that said niceness will expand to encompass all who I encounter.

To get back into the studio and pick up my chisels.  Hello wood!  Hello stone!

To eat whole foods, exercise as much as possible, and remember to do my stretching.

To continue to create art, read good books, educate myself, and overall improve at being a sentient being.

To let go of the past and really mean it.  Hence, to really let go of the past.  This will help with the following intention…

To be here now, man.

To not wish my life away… (extension, indeed, of the aforementioned statements)…or as my Dad used to say, “treat each day as if it were the first day of the rest of your life.”  I can dig it.

To be a better listener.

To realize it is not all about me.

To better receive criticism when it benefits my growth as a human being.

To be more grateful, more often, and more sincerely about all the good things I already have in my life.

To be a better wife and partner.

To love, with more grace and compassion, the people closest to me.

Right…  No small efforts, those, yet worthy endeavors indeed!

May 2011 be a treat for us all, and may this new year lead each of us into our highest potential.  See you out there!!

Hair today, gone tomorrow…

I’ve been in cosmetology school now for about four months.  I swore when I started that I wouldn’t change my long, blond locks, despite everyone’s telling me that it would only be a matter of time before I cut my hair.  Well, they were right, but not necessarily for the reasons they noted. Turns out, this isn’t my first rodeo with dramatic hair changes, and I’m always amazed by the responses one receives when altering one’s hair.

Many moons ago while in Kansas City, I bartended at a heavy metal bar during the time of “glam metal” and the reverence for long locks on both men and women.  I too, had long hair at the time, and this only increased my popularity and my tips.  At one point, I cut it all off.  I don’t remember the impetus behind this particular haircut, yet I do remember the response.  It was as if I had done something sacrilegious!  How could I have cut off my hair??  Plus, I was female; and sexy, sought after females at this establishment did not have short hair!  Interestingly enough, or perhaps sadly enough, I remember that my tips and my popularity decreased as well as my hair length.  It was one of my first experiences with the notion that many men (and women!) believe that in order to be attractive, a woman should have long, preferably blond hair, and also sport a decent rack and a tan.

What was I thinking to have stepped out of these well crafted boundaries??

Cutting off my hair this time hasn’t been quite as dramatic, thank heavens, yet it still has me thinking of what we see as attractive, and how we feel about our hair.  Even though I like this new haircut and color, I still have lingering doubts that I should have just left well enough alone.  After all, I had achieved the long, blond state, hadn’t I??

I see a myriad of types of people and their hair now that I am a hair stylist in training.  I feel for the ones who have thinning or fine hair, and I feel for the ones who are constantly seeking the elusive look that will make them feel prettier, more attractive, and in many cases, more feminine or masculine.  I feel for the ones who are bald and don’t want to be.

One of my ‘jobs’ now will be to help people feel better about themselves through their hair, and though I know it is a worthy endeavor, it still saddens me just a little that we are so attached to how we look in order to know better how we feel about ourselves.  I suppose it would behoove me to just accept this ‘edict’ as one that is pretty firmly entrenched in our society, yet I do hope that in being a good hair stylist, I can help people feel better about themselves not only because of their hair, but also in spite of their hair…

Won’t that be something?

Being sick…

Nothing like a few days of feeling like the underside of crap to make one appreciate good health.  I’m lucky, for I rarely am sick, and this past stint was something like I had not experienced in years.  It’s always the same, however, being sick.  So otherworldly and surreal.

When I was younger and under the weather, I used to feel like the world just kept on moving without me.  School happened whether I was there or not, and the rest of my family members would still do their usual daily routines with or without me.  I felt isolated and strange (and yucky) in my netherworld of ‘otherness’.  Time seemed to stop.  I was in a bubble of feeling ill, and was all alone in that space, to boot.  How come everything didn’t halt because I was sick?  How could life continue on without my participation?  Weren’t my classmates missing my presence?  How could my family possible eat dinner without me??

Perhaps these feelings stem from the self-centeredness of being a child, but I found it kind of poignant to have similar thoughts this week while feeling so sick.  I missed my first day of class at Merrell, and I again had that feeling of being ‘left out’ of the normal routine of life.  I slept so much that time ceased to have any real meaning, and I felt alone and ‘out there’ in the landscape of jagged throats and clogged senses.  Being sick is no picnic on a physical level, yet it is also a weird little trip out of the ‘norm’ on a more psychic level.

Mostly what I feel today is better, and grateful for the reprieve from that other space of feeling so yucky.

Today I give hearty thanks to my body’s resilience and for feeling well enough to spend some time with my family.