After the release of the movie Syriana, Barbara Walters interviewed George Clooney. She asked why he chose to do a role like that when he could make more money as a leading man. “I have enough money,” said Clooney. “It’s about the quality of the work.”
Walter Isaacson, in his biography about Benjamin Franklin, said that Franklin didn’t patent his Franklin stove. He structured his finances so that his retirement was comfortable and he felt like his invention belonged to everyone. What I read into that was that Franklin knew that he had enough.
Both of these men knew what was important to them and when they had enough. It struck me because I’ve fallen into the trap of ‘not enough’ at times in my life. I wasted precious present moments concerned about what I didn’t have. I sometimes looked at others who had more with longing tinged with envy.
British Happiness expert Anthony Seldon said this in a BBC interview: ”One needs to have a certain level of income so that one can have one’s own material needs looked after and if not, than one is unhappy, but beyond a certain point, the increase in happiness doesn’t continue increasing along with an increase in income. What also is a potent source of unhappiness is comparison with other people. If we’re constantly looking over our shoulder and thinking this person has a bigger house or a better car or a higher standard of living than I do, than that’s going to make you unhappy.”
Knowing what ‘enough’ is avoids that trap of thinking more is better and contributes to our ability to be happy right now. The old tried and true habit of appreciation helps us focus on what we have rather than what we don’t have.
When I’m feeling in a place of ‘not enough’ and that life would be better if I just had ‘x’, I express gratitude for what I have. This gratitude list is long, from a loving husband, to my stepson coming back into our lives, to good health, to a safe and comfortable home in a wonderful neighborhood, to wonderful friends, to enough to eat, to indoor plumbing.
Indoor plumbing is one of my favorites. When I think about how many people in the world don’t have clean drinking water and I can just turn on the tap and have clean water whenever I want, not to mention the joys of a hot shower, I feel grateful.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting expansion in our lives. We live in an abundant universe and life is meant to be enjoyed. Yet if we’re always straining for more, we’re not enjoying the now.
Substituting ‘and’ for ‘but’ helps me keep focus what's working right now. Rather than "I’d be happier if I had ‘x’," I say "I’m grateful for what I have and I’m open to receiving more.”
How do you stay connected to knowing what enough is in your life?
Friday, January 28, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Journey of Grief
Yesterday marked the two year anniversary of my dad’s transition from this life into another. Last year I spent the anniversary day lying on the couch feeling nauseous. This year I functioned normally.
I lit my ‘dad candle,’ a candle that I light on holidays, special occasions or just when I’m missing him. It reminds me that dad is now playing in the light and my grief is separate from his death.
It wasn’t like his death was a surprise or untimely. He had a great quality of life for 86 years before beginning to fail. During his decline, I visited 8 times. A couple of those trips weren’t planned but were in response to emergencies.
Clearly, my dad’s death wasn’t unexpected. The grief, however, was a surprise. My intellect said I’d experienced anticipatory grief so when dad died, I’d be fine. That’s not what happened.
When I returned to Denver after the funeral, I was sick in bed for a week.
I decided to design a service to celebrate dad’s life with my friends, since the funeral Mass in South Carolina didn’t hold meaning for me. The service I created provided comfort, as did a grief class I took.
It still seemed, however, that an unconscious grief agenda superseded what I thought would be my response to my dad’s death. I could fight that unknown agenda or I could surrender. I surrendered.
All surrender means is that I live in ‘I don’t know’ regarding grief’s agenda and deal with the sadness as it arises. When the perkiness of the holidays grated on me, I attended a wonderful service of remembrance at a local church. The service provided a quiet, safe place for a needed sobfest.
The grief journey led me to decide to leave my home in Denver after 30 years to move east to be closer to mom. I never thought I’d leave Denver. Fortunately my understanding husband is supportive and onboard with this decision.
Another remnant of grief is the 25 pounds I gained after dad died. As I put on those pounds, I felt disconnected from the reason for the weight gain. One day, after the horror of stepping on the scale, I asked “What is this about?” “Dad” was the immediate response.
An intuitive friend sensed the weight reflected protection for the kid in me who felt unsafe in the world without her father. No amount of awareness or dieting seemed to banish the stubborn pounds.
Today, I’ve committed to finding the inner strength to feel safe and connect with the father energy beyond the physical. Today my grief journey enters another phase. That’s what I’m telling myself. We’ll see if my conscious and unconscious grief agendas are aligned. The loss of the protective weight will be an indicator.
What have you learned about the journey of grief?
I lit my ‘dad candle,’ a candle that I light on holidays, special occasions or just when I’m missing him. It reminds me that dad is now playing in the light and my grief is separate from his death.
It wasn’t like his death was a surprise or untimely. He had a great quality of life for 86 years before beginning to fail. During his decline, I visited 8 times. A couple of those trips weren’t planned but were in response to emergencies.
Clearly, my dad’s death wasn’t unexpected. The grief, however, was a surprise. My intellect said I’d experienced anticipatory grief so when dad died, I’d be fine. That’s not what happened.
When I returned to Denver after the funeral, I was sick in bed for a week.
I decided to design a service to celebrate dad’s life with my friends, since the funeral Mass in South Carolina didn’t hold meaning for me. The service I created provided comfort, as did a grief class I took.
It still seemed, however, that an unconscious grief agenda superseded what I thought would be my response to my dad’s death. I could fight that unknown agenda or I could surrender. I surrendered.
All surrender means is that I live in ‘I don’t know’ regarding grief’s agenda and deal with the sadness as it arises. When the perkiness of the holidays grated on me, I attended a wonderful service of remembrance at a local church. The service provided a quiet, safe place for a needed sobfest.
The grief journey led me to decide to leave my home in Denver after 30 years to move east to be closer to mom. I never thought I’d leave Denver. Fortunately my understanding husband is supportive and onboard with this decision.
Another remnant of grief is the 25 pounds I gained after dad died. As I put on those pounds, I felt disconnected from the reason for the weight gain. One day, after the horror of stepping on the scale, I asked “What is this about?” “Dad” was the immediate response.
An intuitive friend sensed the weight reflected protection for the kid in me who felt unsafe in the world without her father. No amount of awareness or dieting seemed to banish the stubborn pounds.
Today, I’ve committed to finding the inner strength to feel safe and connect with the father energy beyond the physical. Today my grief journey enters another phase. That’s what I’m telling myself. We’ll see if my conscious and unconscious grief agendas are aligned. The loss of the protective weight will be an indicator.
What have you learned about the journey of grief?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Under New Management
“Under New Management” read the sign at the Conoco station on the corner of 14th and Leyden. I often see that sign on restaurants and other businesses.
Why is it important to know that the business is under new management? Was the old management awful and the sign invites customers to give it another shot? Was the old management great and the sign offers a warning that the new management might not be up to par?
My friend Steve wanted to make some changes in his life and decided that he was ‘under new management.’ He created ‘new Steve.’ When he faced a situation that brought up old uncomfortable feelings, he’d put ‘new Steve’ in charge and ask himself “What would ‘new Steve’ do in this situation?”
Using ‘new Steve’ allowed him to observe rather than react to what was happening and also gave him a different perspective. He talks about great changes that he’s made with the help of ‘new Steve.’
Joe Dispenza, author of Evolve Your Brain: The Science of Changing Your Mind, talks about the equivalent of putting our brains under new management. He says that “nerve cells that fire together, wire together.” I used to believe that I could go on mental rants about something— an inner political tirade, a harsh judgment about someone’s behavior or a self-flagellation session—without consequence. I mistakenly believed that as long as I didn’t say it out loud, it didn’t do any harm.
But Dispenza clearly shows through brain research that those rants have a price. Those thoughts keep us trapped in ways of being and behaving that don’t serve us.
I no longer give myself permission to take those mental road trips and instead use a simple technique that Dispenza teaches. He says first we must become aware of those mental patterns. When we recognize the patterns, we then simply say ‘stop.’
Saying ‘stop’ interrupts the brain circuit that’s reinforced by repetitively thinking those particular thoughts. When those patterns are interrupted, we can take the time to create new patterns that are more loving and in alignment with what we want.
This seems simple but many of those negative thought patterns are so practiced they run through our minds without conscious awareness. I realized this many years ago after I finally started to meditate daily.
As I drove to an appointment shortly after starting my practice, I became aware of a parade of worries, fears and regrets running through my mind. My first thought was that meditation made me think negatively! I quickly realized those thoughts had been running for a long time.
Meditation allowed me to be aware of the thoughts and decide whether they were indeed the ones I wanted taking up space in my brain. By ‘stopping’ those thoughts, I can
replace them with ones that serve me better— I can place myself Under New Management.
What does being “under new management” mean to you?
Why is it important to know that the business is under new management? Was the old management awful and the sign invites customers to give it another shot? Was the old management great and the sign offers a warning that the new management might not be up to par?
My friend Steve wanted to make some changes in his life and decided that he was ‘under new management.’ He created ‘new Steve.’ When he faced a situation that brought up old uncomfortable feelings, he’d put ‘new Steve’ in charge and ask himself “What would ‘new Steve’ do in this situation?”
Using ‘new Steve’ allowed him to observe rather than react to what was happening and also gave him a different perspective. He talks about great changes that he’s made with the help of ‘new Steve.’
Joe Dispenza, author of Evolve Your Brain: The Science of Changing Your Mind, talks about the equivalent of putting our brains under new management. He says that “nerve cells that fire together, wire together.” I used to believe that I could go on mental rants about something— an inner political tirade, a harsh judgment about someone’s behavior or a self-flagellation session—without consequence. I mistakenly believed that as long as I didn’t say it out loud, it didn’t do any harm.
But Dispenza clearly shows through brain research that those rants have a price. Those thoughts keep us trapped in ways of being and behaving that don’t serve us.
I no longer give myself permission to take those mental road trips and instead use a simple technique that Dispenza teaches. He says first we must become aware of those mental patterns. When we recognize the patterns, we then simply say ‘stop.’
Saying ‘stop’ interrupts the brain circuit that’s reinforced by repetitively thinking those particular thoughts. When those patterns are interrupted, we can take the time to create new patterns that are more loving and in alignment with what we want.
This seems simple but many of those negative thought patterns are so practiced they run through our minds without conscious awareness. I realized this many years ago after I finally started to meditate daily.
As I drove to an appointment shortly after starting my practice, I became aware of a parade of worries, fears and regrets running through my mind. My first thought was that meditation made me think negatively! I quickly realized those thoughts had been running for a long time.
Meditation allowed me to be aware of the thoughts and decide whether they were indeed the ones I wanted taking up space in my brain. By ‘stopping’ those thoughts, I can
replace them with ones that serve me better— I can place myself Under New Management.
What does being “under new management” mean to you?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Trusting the ‘river of life’
A colleague, Justin, told me that he decided to leave his job and strike out on his own. “How did you reach that decision?” I asked. It appeared risky, as he has a young son. He replied, “As I’ve meditated on questions about my work, I’ve been connecting deeply with the river of life and I remembered that it’s for us. I was open to the creative ideas that arose from those meditations. Opportunities started to appear and I gave my notice.”
Speaking with Justin reminded me of an experience I had 12 years ago when I moved to Chicago from Denver to work on my book Gifts From our Grandmothers. My close friend, Karyn, lived there and was also working on a book. We planned to support each other in the completion of our books.
One Sunday, while attending a natural healing festival with a new friend, Saretta, she said,” You should have a session with Martin.” Saretta loved working with Martin. I’d encountered Martin at events like this before but never worked with him because, frankly, he looked a little odd. He always wore black, a white priest-like collar and a large wooden cross around his neck. He wasn’t an ordained minister. I guess he just liked the look.
For some reason when Saretta made that suggestion that day, I went up to Martin and requested a session.
Martin explained his hands-on energy work and said to tell him if I saw any images or colors. Oh, no,the performance anxiety— What if I don’t see anything? What if nothing extraordinary happens in the session? Did that mean that I failed?
No images or colors appeared until Martin commented that we were almost done. When he said that, my performance anxiety vanished, and I did ‘see’ something. A large wooden hand appeared in my mind’s eye. I felt a rush of emotion as I instinctively reached my hand out and placed it in that hand. I felt safe and deeply loved without knowing that I’d previously felt unsafe or unloved.
That feeling stayed with me when I found out later that night that I needed to move to a new place within a week. The transition to the new living situation went smoothly.
Karyn and I did finish our books that year and I headed back to Denver.
When I get anxious, in over-think and over-control mode, I forget about that river that runs through my life that I can trust. Sometimes I connect with it in my daily meditation but seldom with the depth that I experienced with Martin.
The affirmation I’m working with is—All that remains is trust; the knowledge that all events in life arise from the endless love of the universe and offer the opportunity for learning and recognition.
I’m grateful to Justin for that wonderful reminder about trust and connection to the wisdom within.
How do you stay connected to that place of trusting the ‘river of life?’
Speaking with Justin reminded me of an experience I had 12 years ago when I moved to Chicago from Denver to work on my book Gifts From our Grandmothers. My close friend, Karyn, lived there and was also working on a book. We planned to support each other in the completion of our books.
One Sunday, while attending a natural healing festival with a new friend, Saretta, she said,” You should have a session with Martin.” Saretta loved working with Martin. I’d encountered Martin at events like this before but never worked with him because, frankly, he looked a little odd. He always wore black, a white priest-like collar and a large wooden cross around his neck. He wasn’t an ordained minister. I guess he just liked the look.
For some reason when Saretta made that suggestion that day, I went up to Martin and requested a session.
Martin explained his hands-on energy work and said to tell him if I saw any images or colors. Oh, no,the performance anxiety— What if I don’t see anything? What if nothing extraordinary happens in the session? Did that mean that I failed?
No images or colors appeared until Martin commented that we were almost done. When he said that, my performance anxiety vanished, and I did ‘see’ something. A large wooden hand appeared in my mind’s eye. I felt a rush of emotion as I instinctively reached my hand out and placed it in that hand. I felt safe and deeply loved without knowing that I’d previously felt unsafe or unloved.
That feeling stayed with me when I found out later that night that I needed to move to a new place within a week. The transition to the new living situation went smoothly.
Karyn and I did finish our books that year and I headed back to Denver.
When I get anxious, in over-think and over-control mode, I forget about that river that runs through my life that I can trust. Sometimes I connect with it in my daily meditation but seldom with the depth that I experienced with Martin.
The affirmation I’m working with is—All that remains is trust; the knowledge that all events in life arise from the endless love of the universe and offer the opportunity for learning and recognition.
I’m grateful to Justin for that wonderful reminder about trust and connection to the wisdom within.
How do you stay connected to that place of trusting the ‘river of life?’
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