I wanted to jump into the river today,
Cold, swollen fury that it is.
But the river's more a metaphor
And not an escape.
I want it to carry me down its currents,
Sweep me off my feet,
Deep and wild into its passionate swell.
I want it to wash away the misery,
Cleanse me in it's ever running waters.
Longman, 7 times Longman,
Come take me down.
New fires are burning,
I can see their fierce brightness
Not far off
Take me down to the oceans,
Send me reeling up their shores.
Hold me close and dive me down,
Until I am one with the current.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Being Irish
Happy Saint Patrick's Day, All!
I've been reflecting today on what it means to be Irish. My Irish family has been here for awhile, since the potato famine. So I'm 5th generation here.
I see a lot of people wearing Kelly green, listening to the Chieftains, or singing "Oh Danny Boy," drinking green beer, dying the Chicago river green, talking in a fake Irish brogue, wearing four leaf clovers, funky top hats more befitting New Year's celebrations, drinking green shakes from McDonalds, eating potatoes and corn beef and cabbage, and celebrating being Irish, or just liking the Irish. My son even got pinched today by classmates for not wearing green, apparently some bizarre grade school custom I avoided as a child. Ironically enough, in his class, he was the only one who raised his hand when they asked who was Irish in the class. So the boy with the actual claim on the heritage gets pinched for not embracing the stereotype. Welcome to America.
None of the above in any way is what it means to me to be Irish. Nor are lepruachans or pots of gold. In fact, I hate "Oh Danny Boy." I don't drink alcohol, much less green beer, I am not fond of corned beef and cabbage. I object to the greening of the Chicago River on behalf of the masses who want to honor me, or pay homage to a saint who drove the snakes out of Ireland. I get irritated when people put on fake Irish brogues. I don't actually mind much if you're an Irish wannabee for a day. That's cool, because we're sharing, giving people, and in fact, it's sort of wonderous being Irish, I think. So let me share what I find wonderous about it.
My people made it out of a holocaust back in the day before they called it that. We were starved out like dogs by the occupying forces during a time when they elected not to send aid. It was not a simple matter of a potato blight, it was a series of decisions of the invaders/occupiers/warlords of my ancestral homelands that failed to consider us human. They sent us on what were called death ships, away. Some got out on their own. Most did not receive the benefit of an education prior to leaving, and the fortunate made it to America to take up some work and start again.
One of my ancestors who made it to these shores left us a quote about being Irish. He said "You have nothing to be proud of with being Irish, except for potatoes and poverty." I'll call that what it is, internalized racism. He likely meant it at the time, but here's the thing...every one of his descendants holds our pride of being Irish like a burning torch within our souls, and many of us, 4 to 5 generations removed, stay in touch and share family stories that make us prouder still.
My family came here without much of anything in the way of material possessions, on what likely took 3-4 months on a ship back in the day. They arrived in the east, and moved to the midwest fairly quickly. Despite the trauma of the move and what they left, they had a resiliency to make the best of what was before them and start anew. They worked hard, and maintained their faith and spirit. While some family history was lost, they passed on orally a family tradition of sharing the lineage. Every Irish family is different, I expect. In my family, much was shared about a unique, seemingly portable identity.
Our identity has nothing to do with the stereotypes danced out before my eyes every St. Patrick's day. In my family's version, we are tough, we are resilient, we are steely cold in our resolve to never let a situation down us. We help each other whatever way we are able, and we never forget who we are.
I grew up raised by the non-Irish side of my family, due to my parents divorcing when I was 6 months old. I was told of some of my heritage, but I didn't have much in the way of opportunity to interact with my Irish-American relatives. I expect I bought into some of the same lure of excitement with the idea of being Irish as a child. Who can't like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?
However, most of what occurred for me was learning about my Irish identity through looking at the family who raised me and noting the differences. It wasn't the food or the music or abstract cultural differences. It had to do with my growing awareness of how I thought, saw the world, and met life on life's terms differently. I had a lot of internal hope, even in the face of reasons to be hopeless. I had a great love of history, with a family that didn't like to read or write much down. I loved to write. I was passionate about knowing our lineage, and the factors that brought us here. More than anything, being raised without Irish or Irish-Americans around me, taught me just how Irish I was. My humor and my anger are definitely geneticly predisposed by that side of the family. Perhaps, too, my resiliency. I can't say that's universal among the Irish or Irish Americans. But I will say that I strongly suspect that our sense of social justice and interest in political injustices just might be bore of shared experiences.
One day some years ago, I went to an Irish festival, and stopped over at the genealogy table. A man sporting Kelly green, wearing the sparkly top hat, and making a fake Irish accent, saw my interest. Apparently, he was "Somebody Important and In Charge." He approached me and said "Ho, so you THINK you are Irish?" and went on to share a litany of all of the people from all walks of life who think they are Irish who come to his table, but often aren't. I explained, "No, I KNOW I am Irish." He didn't think much of that, and gave me a pop quiz, asking me our last name. I listed off the 5 generation of our lineage and where we came from in Ireland and when we arrived, and he was stunned. Perhaps if I'd had some green beer and a shamrock necklace with me, it might have given him some clue, that I am in fact, Irish. Sad to think that, but likely it's true.
When I'm being Irish, it's not reserved for St. Patrick's Day. It doesn't involve any of the stereotypical stuff. I don't reserve it for times when I'm with my Irish-American family now. It never involves Kelly green. It comes up around injustice, whether it be one I'm faced with or someone else's. I'll never back down from those kinds of fights, and it goes beyond banter or armchair debates. It comes up in my humor, and my ability to find it in both the joys and tragedies of life. I don't need to look the part or act the part, it just is. Most of all, it comes up in my hopeful response to life and the long view I take on most matters. I love that we are not only survivors, but thrivers, when we set our minds to it. And if everybody on the planet wants to be Irish for a day for these reasons, go for it and take it to the streets. The world might be a better place for it!
I've been reflecting today on what it means to be Irish. My Irish family has been here for awhile, since the potato famine. So I'm 5th generation here.
I see a lot of people wearing Kelly green, listening to the Chieftains, or singing "Oh Danny Boy," drinking green beer, dying the Chicago river green, talking in a fake Irish brogue, wearing four leaf clovers, funky top hats more befitting New Year's celebrations, drinking green shakes from McDonalds, eating potatoes and corn beef and cabbage, and celebrating being Irish, or just liking the Irish. My son even got pinched today by classmates for not wearing green, apparently some bizarre grade school custom I avoided as a child. Ironically enough, in his class, he was the only one who raised his hand when they asked who was Irish in the class. So the boy with the actual claim on the heritage gets pinched for not embracing the stereotype. Welcome to America.
None of the above in any way is what it means to me to be Irish. Nor are lepruachans or pots of gold. In fact, I hate "Oh Danny Boy." I don't drink alcohol, much less green beer, I am not fond of corned beef and cabbage. I object to the greening of the Chicago River on behalf of the masses who want to honor me, or pay homage to a saint who drove the snakes out of Ireland. I get irritated when people put on fake Irish brogues. I don't actually mind much if you're an Irish wannabee for a day. That's cool, because we're sharing, giving people, and in fact, it's sort of wonderous being Irish, I think. So let me share what I find wonderous about it.
My people made it out of a holocaust back in the day before they called it that. We were starved out like dogs by the occupying forces during a time when they elected not to send aid. It was not a simple matter of a potato blight, it was a series of decisions of the invaders/occupiers/warlords of my ancestral homelands that failed to consider us human. They sent us on what were called death ships, away. Some got out on their own. Most did not receive the benefit of an education prior to leaving, and the fortunate made it to America to take up some work and start again.
One of my ancestors who made it to these shores left us a quote about being Irish. He said "You have nothing to be proud of with being Irish, except for potatoes and poverty." I'll call that what it is, internalized racism. He likely meant it at the time, but here's the thing...every one of his descendants holds our pride of being Irish like a burning torch within our souls, and many of us, 4 to 5 generations removed, stay in touch and share family stories that make us prouder still.
My family came here without much of anything in the way of material possessions, on what likely took 3-4 months on a ship back in the day. They arrived in the east, and moved to the midwest fairly quickly. Despite the trauma of the move and what they left, they had a resiliency to make the best of what was before them and start anew. They worked hard, and maintained their faith and spirit. While some family history was lost, they passed on orally a family tradition of sharing the lineage. Every Irish family is different, I expect. In my family, much was shared about a unique, seemingly portable identity.
Our identity has nothing to do with the stereotypes danced out before my eyes every St. Patrick's day. In my family's version, we are tough, we are resilient, we are steely cold in our resolve to never let a situation down us. We help each other whatever way we are able, and we never forget who we are.
I grew up raised by the non-Irish side of my family, due to my parents divorcing when I was 6 months old. I was told of some of my heritage, but I didn't have much in the way of opportunity to interact with my Irish-American relatives. I expect I bought into some of the same lure of excitement with the idea of being Irish as a child. Who can't like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?
However, most of what occurred for me was learning about my Irish identity through looking at the family who raised me and noting the differences. It wasn't the food or the music or abstract cultural differences. It had to do with my growing awareness of how I thought, saw the world, and met life on life's terms differently. I had a lot of internal hope, even in the face of reasons to be hopeless. I had a great love of history, with a family that didn't like to read or write much down. I loved to write. I was passionate about knowing our lineage, and the factors that brought us here. More than anything, being raised without Irish or Irish-Americans around me, taught me just how Irish I was. My humor and my anger are definitely geneticly predisposed by that side of the family. Perhaps, too, my resiliency. I can't say that's universal among the Irish or Irish Americans. But I will say that I strongly suspect that our sense of social justice and interest in political injustices just might be bore of shared experiences.
One day some years ago, I went to an Irish festival, and stopped over at the genealogy table. A man sporting Kelly green, wearing the sparkly top hat, and making a fake Irish accent, saw my interest. Apparently, he was "Somebody Important and In Charge." He approached me and said "Ho, so you THINK you are Irish?" and went on to share a litany of all of the people from all walks of life who think they are Irish who come to his table, but often aren't. I explained, "No, I KNOW I am Irish." He didn't think much of that, and gave me a pop quiz, asking me our last name. I listed off the 5 generation of our lineage and where we came from in Ireland and when we arrived, and he was stunned. Perhaps if I'd had some green beer and a shamrock necklace with me, it might have given him some clue, that I am in fact, Irish. Sad to think that, but likely it's true.
When I'm being Irish, it's not reserved for St. Patrick's Day. It doesn't involve any of the stereotypical stuff. I don't reserve it for times when I'm with my Irish-American family now. It never involves Kelly green. It comes up around injustice, whether it be one I'm faced with or someone else's. I'll never back down from those kinds of fights, and it goes beyond banter or armchair debates. It comes up in my humor, and my ability to find it in both the joys and tragedies of life. I don't need to look the part or act the part, it just is. Most of all, it comes up in my hopeful response to life and the long view I take on most matters. I love that we are not only survivors, but thrivers, when we set our minds to it. And if everybody on the planet wants to be Irish for a day for these reasons, go for it and take it to the streets. The world might be a better place for it!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Disappointment
My disappointment is
between me and my God
and I wouldn't have it
any other way.
The weight of it
bows my shoulders.
The carrying of it
pressures my heart
to go off at
breakneck speed.
"Hey you!"
I call to that which
created me.
"This didn't come,
with an instruction manual!"
I tell Him, throwing it down.
"Besides, I think it's broken.
It just doesn't work for me."
He didn't give it to me,
but I figure I can leave it here.
With it's freeze dried bitterness.
With it's residual gall.
At least if I give it to Him,
I'll know it won't be given to someone else
by Him.
And I won't have it burdening me
up the vertical climb
I'm about to venture off on.
between me and my God
and I wouldn't have it
any other way.
The weight of it
bows my shoulders.
The carrying of it
pressures my heart
to go off at
breakneck speed.
"Hey you!"
I call to that which
created me.
"This didn't come,
with an instruction manual!"
I tell Him, throwing it down.
"Besides, I think it's broken.
It just doesn't work for me."
He didn't give it to me,
but I figure I can leave it here.
With it's freeze dried bitterness.
With it's residual gall.
At least if I give it to Him,
I'll know it won't be given to someone else
by Him.
And I won't have it burdening me
up the vertical climb
I'm about to venture off on.
Monday, March 15, 2010
What Really Matters
Tonight I'm thinking about a friend of mine who passed on about 4 years ago.
This past summer, I was at Arlington Cemetary in Virginia and happened upon the Women's Memorial there. You can't really miss it, as it's right there at the entrance way. On TV people saw it when Ted Kennedy died and his hurst drove past it, before turning into the cemetary, but most don't people don't know what it is. The tourists scarcely bother with it, preferring the more well known attractions.
I was in a mood that day, and didn't much feel like visiting the graves of people I've never met, and now never will. I've got a bit of a grudge against the military when it comes to gravesites, as my father, who was a WWII vet never got a military headstone for his grave, due to the records of his service being lost in a federal fire.
Anyway, in my funk, I discovered the Women's Memorial. Something was nagging at me, like "I've heard about this before, but where?" As I walked through the halls, I remembered. It was my friend, an elder female who served in WWII. She'd died some years before my visit, but I remembered her being excited about this memorial finally being done.
I discovered that they had a registry of women who'd been in the military, and so I looked her up and found her record there. They had a beautiful picture, too, of her during her service days in the 1940's - one that I wouldn't have recognized as my friend, only first meeting her when she was in her 70's.
But this isn't a post about military memorials, really. It's about the lovely lady that I knew. We'd met through a mutual friend, and she'd call me sometimes to check and see how our friend was doing. We'd run into each other at events, or talk on the phone. She always amazed me with her attitude. She was unapologetically herself, and spoke plainly and clearly her truths. She'd had, by some accounts, a hard life, one that could easily have been a made her a victim of the world. However, she never took that stance in all the time I'd known her. She was a God loving woman, but not a poser or a proselytizer. She knew my belief system wasn't her own and never once questioned the validity of my ways.
I've known a lot of elders over the years, and she struck me as refreshing in not buying into the standard party line of how she ought to see her own life experience. Given up for adoption, she'd gone to boarding schools and been converted to Christianity. She might well have found this offensive, but she didn't. Other people I'd known who'd gone through similar experiences were filled with anger, regret or self-pity. Not once did I see this occur for her.
She had a certain way of looking at things that I really appreciated. We'd talk about her life and she'd update me on her family, and was sad to see some paths chosen by her children, but in no way felt she owned responsibility for it. She was neither martyr nor enabler. She'd lived her life as best as she could, and left the rest up to God.
It was always refreshing, talking with her, because you just never knew where it would go. She talked about what really mattered, in the keenest and most eloquent sense. Most people don't do that these days, and frankly, I miss it.
I saw that they didn't have that she died on their records, and they gave me a form to complete. I've had it with me the better part of 7 months. Took awhile to find the obituary, then in the flurry of my own personal dramas, I'd set it aside. When I was at the memorial, I purchased a silver pin of wings, to remember her by. I didn't set that aside, instead, keeping it on my backpack or nightstand, and now it's on a hat a friend gave me.
I never forgot I needed to get the memorial her death information, and did so tonight, mainly because I'm feeling up for it now. Thinking about her, she showed me what really mattered through how she modelled it and talked. She enjoyed life, it seemed to me - did her best by it, and didn't lament a thing that ever happened. I loved her straight forward, unapologetic, but compassionate ways. Her compassion wasn't for show, and she had no need to impress people. She had her unique interests and ways, and enjoyed them completely.
What I was particularly struck by was the many ways in which she rebuked and almost laughed at, the ways in which people sought to define her through her life challenges, or what some might call tragedies. There was a confident, low level defiance to her, like "don't make me out to be the victim when I'm not."
I can relate to her in that regard, and it's probably one of the reasons that we were friends. We knew how to let go of the things that didn't serve us well in the past. We were both equally compassionate with ourselves and other people. We didn't really care much for people defining us by our life challenges and telling us how we ought to think, see things or feel them. We squarely and head on viewed things as they actually were, rather than how we'd like them to be. So, in that sense, we were firmly grounded in reality. We were both deeply spiritual people, but viewed that as a personal relationship with our respective faiths, not one all out on display or for show.
We weren't, to paraphrase Shakesphere, acting out roles on the stage of life. We were more to the point standing there watching the others and wondering what made it so terribly difficult to be present, aware and authentic? Then we'd shrug and move to stage left, but only because it suited our fancy, not for anyone else's benefit.
She gave me a lot to consider, a lot of good wisdom in the brief time I'd been lucky enough to know her. She taught me something of a brazen approach to challenges in life. There will be people lined up to decide who I am, judge what I do, the decisions I make, like some great morality play. Others will attempt to sit at the feet on the newest martyr they think I have every right to become. After knowning this friend, there's just a part of me that can't be bothered with either role definition. There's life to be engaging in, people to be talking to, serious matters needing attending to, and a glorious set of life experiences to look back on and say, with a smile, "I learned a lot from that and it made me better today."
Cheers to the renegade angel I'm sure she must be!
This past summer, I was at Arlington Cemetary in Virginia and happened upon the Women's Memorial there. You can't really miss it, as it's right there at the entrance way. On TV people saw it when Ted Kennedy died and his hurst drove past it, before turning into the cemetary, but most don't people don't know what it is. The tourists scarcely bother with it, preferring the more well known attractions.
I was in a mood that day, and didn't much feel like visiting the graves of people I've never met, and now never will. I've got a bit of a grudge against the military when it comes to gravesites, as my father, who was a WWII vet never got a military headstone for his grave, due to the records of his service being lost in a federal fire.
Anyway, in my funk, I discovered the Women's Memorial. Something was nagging at me, like "I've heard about this before, but where?" As I walked through the halls, I remembered. It was my friend, an elder female who served in WWII. She'd died some years before my visit, but I remembered her being excited about this memorial finally being done.
I discovered that they had a registry of women who'd been in the military, and so I looked her up and found her record there. They had a beautiful picture, too, of her during her service days in the 1940's - one that I wouldn't have recognized as my friend, only first meeting her when she was in her 70's.
But this isn't a post about military memorials, really. It's about the lovely lady that I knew. We'd met through a mutual friend, and she'd call me sometimes to check and see how our friend was doing. We'd run into each other at events, or talk on the phone. She always amazed me with her attitude. She was unapologetically herself, and spoke plainly and clearly her truths. She'd had, by some accounts, a hard life, one that could easily have been a made her a victim of the world. However, she never took that stance in all the time I'd known her. She was a God loving woman, but not a poser or a proselytizer. She knew my belief system wasn't her own and never once questioned the validity of my ways.
I've known a lot of elders over the years, and she struck me as refreshing in not buying into the standard party line of how she ought to see her own life experience. Given up for adoption, she'd gone to boarding schools and been converted to Christianity. She might well have found this offensive, but she didn't. Other people I'd known who'd gone through similar experiences were filled with anger, regret or self-pity. Not once did I see this occur for her.
She had a certain way of looking at things that I really appreciated. We'd talk about her life and she'd update me on her family, and was sad to see some paths chosen by her children, but in no way felt she owned responsibility for it. She was neither martyr nor enabler. She'd lived her life as best as she could, and left the rest up to God.
It was always refreshing, talking with her, because you just never knew where it would go. She talked about what really mattered, in the keenest and most eloquent sense. Most people don't do that these days, and frankly, I miss it.
I saw that they didn't have that she died on their records, and they gave me a form to complete. I've had it with me the better part of 7 months. Took awhile to find the obituary, then in the flurry of my own personal dramas, I'd set it aside. When I was at the memorial, I purchased a silver pin of wings, to remember her by. I didn't set that aside, instead, keeping it on my backpack or nightstand, and now it's on a hat a friend gave me.
I never forgot I needed to get the memorial her death information, and did so tonight, mainly because I'm feeling up for it now. Thinking about her, she showed me what really mattered through how she modelled it and talked. She enjoyed life, it seemed to me - did her best by it, and didn't lament a thing that ever happened. I loved her straight forward, unapologetic, but compassionate ways. Her compassion wasn't for show, and she had no need to impress people. She had her unique interests and ways, and enjoyed them completely.
What I was particularly struck by was the many ways in which she rebuked and almost laughed at, the ways in which people sought to define her through her life challenges, or what some might call tragedies. There was a confident, low level defiance to her, like "don't make me out to be the victim when I'm not."
I can relate to her in that regard, and it's probably one of the reasons that we were friends. We knew how to let go of the things that didn't serve us well in the past. We were both equally compassionate with ourselves and other people. We didn't really care much for people defining us by our life challenges and telling us how we ought to think, see things or feel them. We squarely and head on viewed things as they actually were, rather than how we'd like them to be. So, in that sense, we were firmly grounded in reality. We were both deeply spiritual people, but viewed that as a personal relationship with our respective faiths, not one all out on display or for show.
We weren't, to paraphrase Shakesphere, acting out roles on the stage of life. We were more to the point standing there watching the others and wondering what made it so terribly difficult to be present, aware and authentic? Then we'd shrug and move to stage left, but only because it suited our fancy, not for anyone else's benefit.
She gave me a lot to consider, a lot of good wisdom in the brief time I'd been lucky enough to know her. She taught me something of a brazen approach to challenges in life. There will be people lined up to decide who I am, judge what I do, the decisions I make, like some great morality play. Others will attempt to sit at the feet on the newest martyr they think I have every right to become. After knowning this friend, there's just a part of me that can't be bothered with either role definition. There's life to be engaging in, people to be talking to, serious matters needing attending to, and a glorious set of life experiences to look back on and say, with a smile, "I learned a lot from that and it made me better today."
Cheers to the renegade angel I'm sure she must be!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Failing Forward
I've been thinking a lot lately on the concept of recouping from a real or perceived failure. In business, they talk about failing forward by learning from the process in order to improve the overall product or service that was deemed to have failed to have met expectations. Today, in my regular day job, I encountered an amazing person who applied some of the concepts to personal life. And that got me to thinking...
In the course of my own personal life, failure comes typically related to what I call my "preordained expectations." I say preordained in the religious and hierarchal sense, in that the expectations take presidence over such things as, say, change or growth. Not to say it's right, but it's where I've most frequently found the source of the "failure."
Recently, I'd been using the language of "reinventing" my life when faced with personal crisis. Only today in talking with this amazing individual, did I find myself shifting my language to be as positive as I found him to be. Instead, I said "reorienting" my life. A subtle but important distinction and one that made me think, how do we go about shifting from the crisis mentality when failure rears its ugly head, to an adventure mentality, where the challenges faced might be looked upon as opportunities for change and growth?
I've heard a lot of people use the words "change oriented" and "growth oriented" and overall, to say one possesses these attributes appears to be a positive thing. I've never heard someone say that they are "expectation oriented" but in reality, this is what many of us do. We focus so excusively on the idealized outcome of our preordained expectations, that failure becomes critical, and will emerge into crisis.
With this in mind, I began to reconsider what preordained expectations I had that led me to this opportunity to fail forward in my life right now. The expectations, when they failed me, let me to feel the need to reinvent myself in order to survive the looming crisis. Taken from that perspective, it doesn't sound too fun, now does it?
Life, after all, is a journey and not a destination. If it were a destination, hurray to you and me, we made it...now what?
My "now what" begins by reorienting, and tossing aside the idea that I somehow need to reinvent myself, because my good old self just wasn't good enough for this crisis. So what do I want to reorient to? Change and growth. By shifting my perception of what is occurring, taking it out of failed expectations and embracing the idea an adventure is afoot, one what will require change and growth in their very process, I can reorient myself.
I walked by a man on Adams street today, on his cell phone asking someone to "talk me down!" as I was thinking of this. My immediate reaction was thinking that he's already on the ground, maybe he needs to know this and be reoriented to see where he is at. However, he was talking metaphorically, asking the person on the call to mentally help him get down from whatever it was that was upsetting him. I suspected a preordained expectation was at the core of whatever got him up there in the first place.
So, reorienting myself to shift my current view away from goals and outcomes, and back to the matter at hand, a process I don't like to be going through, it seems to me the only way to get it to be an adventure is going to be orienting myself toward change and growth.
When I do this, my possibilities include being able to use failing forward for my personal life. The failings can them be deconstructed and understood as gifts to learn from. In doing so over the past 5 months, I've made some remarkable discoveries. There were reasons that the gifts of failure entered into my life, due to my inattention to smaller things. In business they'd call it the product flaws, or unanticipated costs in service delivery. In my life, I'll just call them the quirky nature of who I am.
By attending to those quirky aspects, in a mindset where I am on a growth and change oriented adventure, there are greater opportunities, expanded horizons, in which to view where and what I will reorient to. Of course, those quirky aspects of me had value at some point, so they'll be coming along for the journey, too. But I expect that the experience of learning from the process will refine them, make them sharper and more focused, and a gift comes from that as well.
I didn't start being me when the crisis/adventure hit, and I won't stop being me once it's over. There's less a need to reinvent who I am and a greater need to mindfully fail forward, revoking the power and priviledge I'd given my preordained expectations, and shifting that to the process of growth and change as a part of the journey.
How about you?
In the course of my own personal life, failure comes typically related to what I call my "preordained expectations." I say preordained in the religious and hierarchal sense, in that the expectations take presidence over such things as, say, change or growth. Not to say it's right, but it's where I've most frequently found the source of the "failure."
Recently, I'd been using the language of "reinventing" my life when faced with personal crisis. Only today in talking with this amazing individual, did I find myself shifting my language to be as positive as I found him to be. Instead, I said "reorienting" my life. A subtle but important distinction and one that made me think, how do we go about shifting from the crisis mentality when failure rears its ugly head, to an adventure mentality, where the challenges faced might be looked upon as opportunities for change and growth?
I've heard a lot of people use the words "change oriented" and "growth oriented" and overall, to say one possesses these attributes appears to be a positive thing. I've never heard someone say that they are "expectation oriented" but in reality, this is what many of us do. We focus so excusively on the idealized outcome of our preordained expectations, that failure becomes critical, and will emerge into crisis.
With this in mind, I began to reconsider what preordained expectations I had that led me to this opportunity to fail forward in my life right now. The expectations, when they failed me, let me to feel the need to reinvent myself in order to survive the looming crisis. Taken from that perspective, it doesn't sound too fun, now does it?
Life, after all, is a journey and not a destination. If it were a destination, hurray to you and me, we made it...now what?
My "now what" begins by reorienting, and tossing aside the idea that I somehow need to reinvent myself, because my good old self just wasn't good enough for this crisis. So what do I want to reorient to? Change and growth. By shifting my perception of what is occurring, taking it out of failed expectations and embracing the idea an adventure is afoot, one what will require change and growth in their very process, I can reorient myself.
I walked by a man on Adams street today, on his cell phone asking someone to "talk me down!" as I was thinking of this. My immediate reaction was thinking that he's already on the ground, maybe he needs to know this and be reoriented to see where he is at. However, he was talking metaphorically, asking the person on the call to mentally help him get down from whatever it was that was upsetting him. I suspected a preordained expectation was at the core of whatever got him up there in the first place.
So, reorienting myself to shift my current view away from goals and outcomes, and back to the matter at hand, a process I don't like to be going through, it seems to me the only way to get it to be an adventure is going to be orienting myself toward change and growth.
When I do this, my possibilities include being able to use failing forward for my personal life. The failings can them be deconstructed and understood as gifts to learn from. In doing so over the past 5 months, I've made some remarkable discoveries. There were reasons that the gifts of failure entered into my life, due to my inattention to smaller things. In business they'd call it the product flaws, or unanticipated costs in service delivery. In my life, I'll just call them the quirky nature of who I am.
By attending to those quirky aspects, in a mindset where I am on a growth and change oriented adventure, there are greater opportunities, expanded horizons, in which to view where and what I will reorient to. Of course, those quirky aspects of me had value at some point, so they'll be coming along for the journey, too. But I expect that the experience of learning from the process will refine them, make them sharper and more focused, and a gift comes from that as well.
I didn't start being me when the crisis/adventure hit, and I won't stop being me once it's over. There's less a need to reinvent who I am and a greater need to mindfully fail forward, revoking the power and priviledge I'd given my preordained expectations, and shifting that to the process of growth and change as a part of the journey.
How about you?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Self-care
I've been thinking a lot on self-care and decided to post mine here, in the hopes that blog followers will post their ideas on FB in the comments sections. Many of my FB friends and family are all about self-care, and the rest might simply need to read our wise words!
I'll start by saying I've had one hell of a year. Yet, by all accounts, I seem to be doing rather well despite this. A wise sister of mine has duly noted it's because of my self-care. She's probably one of the few people who recognizes this. Most think of me as some sort of enigma, having some magical, remarkable ability to bounce back. The air of mystery and inscrutable nature of what I do is about to be cleared!
I'll start with that the only person fully able to respond to my life is me. Responsibility is the ability to respond, and the buck stops here, with me. Self-care flows naturally from that logic. I can't be waiting around for someone else to do it for me, or wave a magic wand and make my life picture perfect. My life will never be that way, and I'm good with that. The magic is all me, all the time, and so it goes with self-care as well. Same for you, btw.
Because really, what other option is there? Misery, self-pity, powerlessness, anger? It just doesn't do it for me. If it's getting you an outcome you enjoy, keep up the good work! It's NEVER done it for me, so I don't stay with those very long. Instead, I embrace self-care. Note that I didn't say "try to" or "strive for" because that only gives it a slight chance of happening, at least in my world. EMBRACE IT. Use whatever metaphor works for you. Ride it like a bull or a bear, make love to it, make it your greatest passion. I don't care what you call it, just do it.
So, here are the things I do for self-care, in no particular order:
1. Talk with seriously good friends. I'm dogged about it. If not face to face, then IM, Skype, email, letters, leaving VM messages.
2. Refrain from judging others as potentially not being "good enough" friends to be seriously good friends - let them do their magic, too, and don't limit yourself.
3. Be a good friend, get out of your own headspace for awhile and help others.
4. You don't go to the baker and ask for an oil change, or the Oil Express and ask for a loaf of bread, right? That would be nuts, wouldn't it? So why go to people who can't give you what you want or need an expect a different result? If you're looking for help organizing, go to an organizing friend, if you're looking for a serious relationship, go to a person that can happen with. Don't go to the wrong people for the wrong things, or get angry when someone can't give you what you need, if you're asking the wrong person. Accept it and move on.
5. Stop drawing road maps for the visually impaired. If you find yourself beating your head against a wall trying to get someone to change, understand you, or what have you, it's just got to stop. It's not worth the effort, even if you love them. They can't see what you're trying to show them, and that's okay, be good with it.
6. Journal about it, blog about it, process what's going on and get it out of you.
7. Go to therapy, and if it's not working don't sulk in a corner and lick your wounds, find another therapist who will work.
8. Pray, and actually mean it. No bargaining with whatever you elect to pray to, no pleading, no half-hearted, "I'll believe in you if only you'll do this for me" kind of prayer. Seriously, now.
9. Make someone smile. It's really not that hard! I don't care much who it is, so long as it doesn't involve illegal activities or money. Could be a stranger you smile at walking by, or the Starbucks barista. They'll smile back, and that's what you need to see!
10. Spend time with good elders. Not the mean ones who berate your existence, the sweet, kind hearted ones who open up the breadth of their experience of the world and thier kind hearts, love and wisdom. It doesn't mean you need to tell them anything, just be around them, they are WONDERFUL! Elders rock!
11. Avoid obnoxious or annoying people. Schedule your day around ways to avoid them, it's kind of fun, if you're clever about it.
12. Set limits in your life of how much people access you and for what. I have about two hours a day people can pull from the depths of my soul and be needy before I start to get surly. So, if 10 people come to me and need me, great if it doesn't max out that two hours for me. Or one, that's fine. Some days, I get 10 people needing 2 hours of my time each, and here's where the fun begins - start scheduling them. Try "This is important and I'd like to devote 2 hours to speak to you about it. How about next Wednesday at 1:00?" If they are just anxious people who need to dump and you're their dumping grounds, boy are they gonna HATE that. Now, here's a question for you, under what terms did you agree to become their dumping ground? I'll bet you never had that conversation with them...
13. Eat healthy, limit alcohol and tobacco consumption, increase physical activity.
14. Candles are lovely when attended, burn the best scented candles you love, safely, as a treat.
15. Recognize people will stand in line to tell you what to do with your life, if you stand in any place for too long. It's human nature. So stop just standing there, get a move on!
16. Tell your friends what's going on, at your own pace, in a time limited fashion. Most people don't speak truth to power about their stuff, because they're afraid it's too much for their friends and they don't want to lose them. You will if you go on ad nauseum about the same issues over a duration of time. So mix it up a bit, and work on your stuff, so you can give them new and exciting information.
17. Turn away from media advertising that attempts to make you think that you are less beautiful, desirable, perfect, lovable, exciting, etc. in order to sell thier product. Refuse to make purchases from companies that do this. Refuse to befriend people who think we all need to be that way in order to be in their world. Their world is a really sad place.
18. Volunteer with an organization that gets you out of your comfort zone, helping actual people whose lives are FAR WORSE than yours. Trust me on this one, there are people whose lives are FAR WORSE than yours.
19. Turn the tragedies into something productive, like a career or a book, transform what's happened with you in the past into something that just might help people in the future.
20. Body lotions are my friend. So are expensive cosmetic counter samples. Both are cheap and female friendly ways to engage in self care daily. Sorry, men, I got nothing for you on this one!
21. Learn to say no. If no is hard, try "that just doesn't work for me." Practice saying it outloud, until it flows freely.
22. Play a musical instrument, or anything that makes some sound. I have rattles I reach for, and a Tibetan Singing bowl. Use the power of sound to transform your environment and lose yourself in it.
23. Talk to and hug children, they're fun!
24. Give yourself permission to enjoy the day, and contemplate wonderment about what adventures it might bring...
25. Remember, no matter how wacked out crazy a day might be, at least you got a good story out of it!
26. Do not let the past define you.
27. Do not let other people define you.
28. Contemplate the ways in which you are powerful and the ways in which you frequently deny it, then work to change that.
29. If you've got a quirky and non-damaging little habit, revel in it. I am a perfume junky, so I wear it every day. Don't save those things you love for only special occasions, when you get to get out of the jail you put yourself in the other 364 days of the year - no, if you love it and it harms no one, including yourself, do it every day.
30. Drink water.
31. Listen to music - not the stuff that depresses you, we've all got that - be original! Listen to stuff that reminds you of you when you're at you're best!
32. Cry when you need to, the way in which you need to.
33. Create art, even if it's not "good" by society standards, it really doesn't matter, because society standards are highly overrated. Whatever art it is, carving, pottery, drawing, photography, painting, etc. Doesn't have to be permanent, just get it out there.
34. For those of you reading this thinking, "I just can't put this issue of mine making me miserable aside" try any of the following: You could create a feelings box, get an empty cigar box for $2 from a cigar store, on the outside create images of the outside you or world you want to create. On the inside, where you're at with the problem. Then, every time you feel miserable, write out the issue, and put it in the box and shut the lid, leave it there, until the next time. Or, write the main issue on a small piece of paper, and burn it. Or, put it in water and literally freeze it in the freezer.
35. Go for regular dental and medical check ups. Go to the doctor when you need to see the doctor. Don't be a wuss.
36. Get a massage, if you can't afford it, check out the massage schools in your area to see about discounted rates for letting students practice on you.
37. If medication is needed, see a medical doctor or psychiatrist and get on it and take it. Stay consistent, don't play around with it, don't play doctor yourself. Don't self-medicate (drugs, alcohol, taking a friend's prescription), don't go off on your own.
Okay, I've given some of mine, it's your turn now - put your self-care things on FB in the comments section! I'm looking forward to adding to my options!
I'll start by saying I've had one hell of a year. Yet, by all accounts, I seem to be doing rather well despite this. A wise sister of mine has duly noted it's because of my self-care. She's probably one of the few people who recognizes this. Most think of me as some sort of enigma, having some magical, remarkable ability to bounce back. The air of mystery and inscrutable nature of what I do is about to be cleared!
I'll start with that the only person fully able to respond to my life is me. Responsibility is the ability to respond, and the buck stops here, with me. Self-care flows naturally from that logic. I can't be waiting around for someone else to do it for me, or wave a magic wand and make my life picture perfect. My life will never be that way, and I'm good with that. The magic is all me, all the time, and so it goes with self-care as well. Same for you, btw.
Because really, what other option is there? Misery, self-pity, powerlessness, anger? It just doesn't do it for me. If it's getting you an outcome you enjoy, keep up the good work! It's NEVER done it for me, so I don't stay with those very long. Instead, I embrace self-care. Note that I didn't say "try to" or "strive for" because that only gives it a slight chance of happening, at least in my world. EMBRACE IT. Use whatever metaphor works for you. Ride it like a bull or a bear, make love to it, make it your greatest passion. I don't care what you call it, just do it.
So, here are the things I do for self-care, in no particular order:
1. Talk with seriously good friends. I'm dogged about it. If not face to face, then IM, Skype, email, letters, leaving VM messages.
2. Refrain from judging others as potentially not being "good enough" friends to be seriously good friends - let them do their magic, too, and don't limit yourself.
3. Be a good friend, get out of your own headspace for awhile and help others.
4. You don't go to the baker and ask for an oil change, or the Oil Express and ask for a loaf of bread, right? That would be nuts, wouldn't it? So why go to people who can't give you what you want or need an expect a different result? If you're looking for help organizing, go to an organizing friend, if you're looking for a serious relationship, go to a person that can happen with. Don't go to the wrong people for the wrong things, or get angry when someone can't give you what you need, if you're asking the wrong person. Accept it and move on.
5. Stop drawing road maps for the visually impaired. If you find yourself beating your head against a wall trying to get someone to change, understand you, or what have you, it's just got to stop. It's not worth the effort, even if you love them. They can't see what you're trying to show them, and that's okay, be good with it.
6. Journal about it, blog about it, process what's going on and get it out of you.
7. Go to therapy, and if it's not working don't sulk in a corner and lick your wounds, find another therapist who will work.
8. Pray, and actually mean it. No bargaining with whatever you elect to pray to, no pleading, no half-hearted, "I'll believe in you if only you'll do this for me" kind of prayer. Seriously, now.
9. Make someone smile. It's really not that hard! I don't care much who it is, so long as it doesn't involve illegal activities or money. Could be a stranger you smile at walking by, or the Starbucks barista. They'll smile back, and that's what you need to see!
10. Spend time with good elders. Not the mean ones who berate your existence, the sweet, kind hearted ones who open up the breadth of their experience of the world and thier kind hearts, love and wisdom. It doesn't mean you need to tell them anything, just be around them, they are WONDERFUL! Elders rock!
11. Avoid obnoxious or annoying people. Schedule your day around ways to avoid them, it's kind of fun, if you're clever about it.
12. Set limits in your life of how much people access you and for what. I have about two hours a day people can pull from the depths of my soul and be needy before I start to get surly. So, if 10 people come to me and need me, great if it doesn't max out that two hours for me. Or one, that's fine. Some days, I get 10 people needing 2 hours of my time each, and here's where the fun begins - start scheduling them. Try "This is important and I'd like to devote 2 hours to speak to you about it. How about next Wednesday at 1:00?" If they are just anxious people who need to dump and you're their dumping grounds, boy are they gonna HATE that. Now, here's a question for you, under what terms did you agree to become their dumping ground? I'll bet you never had that conversation with them...
13. Eat healthy, limit alcohol and tobacco consumption, increase physical activity.
14. Candles are lovely when attended, burn the best scented candles you love, safely, as a treat.
15. Recognize people will stand in line to tell you what to do with your life, if you stand in any place for too long. It's human nature. So stop just standing there, get a move on!
16. Tell your friends what's going on, at your own pace, in a time limited fashion. Most people don't speak truth to power about their stuff, because they're afraid it's too much for their friends and they don't want to lose them. You will if you go on ad nauseum about the same issues over a duration of time. So mix it up a bit, and work on your stuff, so you can give them new and exciting information.
17. Turn away from media advertising that attempts to make you think that you are less beautiful, desirable, perfect, lovable, exciting, etc. in order to sell thier product. Refuse to make purchases from companies that do this. Refuse to befriend people who think we all need to be that way in order to be in their world. Their world is a really sad place.
18. Volunteer with an organization that gets you out of your comfort zone, helping actual people whose lives are FAR WORSE than yours. Trust me on this one, there are people whose lives are FAR WORSE than yours.
19. Turn the tragedies into something productive, like a career or a book, transform what's happened with you in the past into something that just might help people in the future.
20. Body lotions are my friend. So are expensive cosmetic counter samples. Both are cheap and female friendly ways to engage in self care daily. Sorry, men, I got nothing for you on this one!
21. Learn to say no. If no is hard, try "that just doesn't work for me." Practice saying it outloud, until it flows freely.
22. Play a musical instrument, or anything that makes some sound. I have rattles I reach for, and a Tibetan Singing bowl. Use the power of sound to transform your environment and lose yourself in it.
23. Talk to and hug children, they're fun!
24. Give yourself permission to enjoy the day, and contemplate wonderment about what adventures it might bring...
25. Remember, no matter how wacked out crazy a day might be, at least you got a good story out of it!
26. Do not let the past define you.
27. Do not let other people define you.
28. Contemplate the ways in which you are powerful and the ways in which you frequently deny it, then work to change that.
29. If you've got a quirky and non-damaging little habit, revel in it. I am a perfume junky, so I wear it every day. Don't save those things you love for only special occasions, when you get to get out of the jail you put yourself in the other 364 days of the year - no, if you love it and it harms no one, including yourself, do it every day.
30. Drink water.
31. Listen to music - not the stuff that depresses you, we've all got that - be original! Listen to stuff that reminds you of you when you're at you're best!
32. Cry when you need to, the way in which you need to.
33. Create art, even if it's not "good" by society standards, it really doesn't matter, because society standards are highly overrated. Whatever art it is, carving, pottery, drawing, photography, painting, etc. Doesn't have to be permanent, just get it out there.
34. For those of you reading this thinking, "I just can't put this issue of mine making me miserable aside" try any of the following: You could create a feelings box, get an empty cigar box for $2 from a cigar store, on the outside create images of the outside you or world you want to create. On the inside, where you're at with the problem. Then, every time you feel miserable, write out the issue, and put it in the box and shut the lid, leave it there, until the next time. Or, write the main issue on a small piece of paper, and burn it. Or, put it in water and literally freeze it in the freezer.
35. Go for regular dental and medical check ups. Go to the doctor when you need to see the doctor. Don't be a wuss.
36. Get a massage, if you can't afford it, check out the massage schools in your area to see about discounted rates for letting students practice on you.
37. If medication is needed, see a medical doctor or psychiatrist and get on it and take it. Stay consistent, don't play around with it, don't play doctor yourself. Don't self-medicate (drugs, alcohol, taking a friend's prescription), don't go off on your own.
Okay, I've given some of mine, it's your turn now - put your self-care things on FB in the comments section! I'm looking forward to adding to my options!
Monday, March 1, 2010
Climbing as a Metaphor
I'm going to schedule some outdoor top rope climbing for a just for me vacation in June. I've done climbing in a gym, done belaying, and climbed outdoors twice, but it was three years ago. Now I'm back to it.
Top rope climbing can be a metaphor for facing one's fears, trusting others and pushing past what you think you can accomplish. There are climbers out there who are blind, who started in their late 50's, and anything is possible if you set your mind to it.
I don't remember exactly what got me to start climbing in the first place. I think it was my sister, and a work related crisis - I said if I could get us through that rough place, I could do anything, and I'd take up climbing. And so I did.
When you're being belayed, that belayer's got to know what they're doing, and you've got to trust them, and trust yourself. It's a pretty scary process the first time, and you gradually come to trust yourself and your belayer and learn to climb.
Metaphorically speaking, I've climbed and suddenly done one of those "I think I'm going to die!" sudden falls. All the trust got knocked out of me in a nano second, and everything I thought I loved about the metaphoric climb, belaying and trust was swept away in the terror, which wasn't metaphoric, but very real. I think what kept me alive was that I grabbed onto a metaphoric rock and down-climbed to solid ground. In the form of self-care, therapy, a great boss, wonderful friends and traditional family. I am lucky, because if I didn't have all of that, I'm sure I would have crashed.
So now, standing firmly on the ground with both feet, I look up and think, there's no way I could climb again, maybe I'll never climb again, because I'm using climbing as a metaphor for trust in relationships. Suddenly, I'm shaky and skittish, just wanting to walk away from the wall of life. I try to convince myself it's still climbing if I just boulder, but that's not entirely true. Bouldering requires I trust myself mainly, because the fall is short and there's no one belaying you. It's a cop out for what I face, and I won't do it. So top rope climbing it is.
I'm going to learn how to trust again, and trust someone with me physically, to keep me safe. I'll hire an AMGA instructor to get me out on real rock, and ask him to challenge me in the routes. I'll ask him to be okay with it if I pause, cry, whatever, because I need to do this. I love real rock, and I love a good climb, and those are metaphors for life and its process.
I'm putting some major expectations on me on this one, and I know it. Trusting my body again to remember how to climb, trusting a belayer to keep me from a sudden fall. Trusting for him to communicate with me if a risk I'm going to take might result in a swingout, so be prepared. Perfect love, perfect trust, perfect communication is needed, and I'll need to go into the climb being okay to do this, and okay to miss a hand or foot hold and dangle up there for awhile.
In the meantime,I've got to get in climbing shape. I'm at my climbing weight now, but my endurance sucks, I get dizzy from the sudden weight loss that occurred with my metaphoric drop. So I've got to come to a better place with myself physically in order to prepare to succeed in the climb. So, I'm eating healthier foods, trying to eat more consistently, and planning on going on hikes and do some resistance training.
Years ago, I did Shotokan Karate, and it was a great thing in helping me get past my "shouldn'ts, can'ts" all of the baggage that came with me about how I perceived myself. I got a lot of body confidence doing it, until I injured a nerve in my back and couldn't go back to it. That actual injury came because of a bad instructor who filled in once for my good instructor. In life in relationships, and with dangerous sports, you've really got to have a good instructor that you can place absolute trust in.
So, that's what I'm going for, a corrective physical experience that will allow me to move the shakes and terror out of my body and get back to what I know. If you concentrate on the bad experience, you'll never climb again and you'll feel safe, but you won't know the process of real rock or real life, and will be sitting at the base just calling up beta to people who do climb. I hate unsolicited beta when I'm climbing, because it distracts me from what it is I am doing. I need to trust myself, know my own body, when I climb. Know and explore what I'm capable of.
It's kind of funny, how I first got into climbing after a workplace crisis that built my confidence enough to want to try it, and now, all these years later, I'm looking to a climb to help me build my confidence physically and relationally. Coming full circle, it seems.
I was mentally inventorying my climbing gear, and realized I need to destroy all of it, because it's too old (they have a short life) - at first, I was irked, but then, my life experiences as of late have made me feel stripped of all equipment I'd previously relied upon anyway. They'll have gear, and all I need are my rock shoes and a chalk bag. It's somewhat funny for me, gear girl extraordinaire, to be thinking of destroying the old, which I loved, and walking freely and lightly with just shoes and a bag. Maybe that's a metaphor, too. I don't haveto hang onto things that no longer serve a purpose, and I can trust I'll get what I need when I'm there.
In the meantime, I've got a little under 4 months to get myself together to do this right. Eat healthier, exercise, gear up my body with the muscles it will need in order to do this right. I don't want to forget I can trust myself, too!
Top rope climbing can be a metaphor for facing one's fears, trusting others and pushing past what you think you can accomplish. There are climbers out there who are blind, who started in their late 50's, and anything is possible if you set your mind to it.
I don't remember exactly what got me to start climbing in the first place. I think it was my sister, and a work related crisis - I said if I could get us through that rough place, I could do anything, and I'd take up climbing. And so I did.
When you're being belayed, that belayer's got to know what they're doing, and you've got to trust them, and trust yourself. It's a pretty scary process the first time, and you gradually come to trust yourself and your belayer and learn to climb.
Metaphorically speaking, I've climbed and suddenly done one of those "I think I'm going to die!" sudden falls. All the trust got knocked out of me in a nano second, and everything I thought I loved about the metaphoric climb, belaying and trust was swept away in the terror, which wasn't metaphoric, but very real. I think what kept me alive was that I grabbed onto a metaphoric rock and down-climbed to solid ground. In the form of self-care, therapy, a great boss, wonderful friends and traditional family. I am lucky, because if I didn't have all of that, I'm sure I would have crashed.
So now, standing firmly on the ground with both feet, I look up and think, there's no way I could climb again, maybe I'll never climb again, because I'm using climbing as a metaphor for trust in relationships. Suddenly, I'm shaky and skittish, just wanting to walk away from the wall of life. I try to convince myself it's still climbing if I just boulder, but that's not entirely true. Bouldering requires I trust myself mainly, because the fall is short and there's no one belaying you. It's a cop out for what I face, and I won't do it. So top rope climbing it is.
I'm going to learn how to trust again, and trust someone with me physically, to keep me safe. I'll hire an AMGA instructor to get me out on real rock, and ask him to challenge me in the routes. I'll ask him to be okay with it if I pause, cry, whatever, because I need to do this. I love real rock, and I love a good climb, and those are metaphors for life and its process.
I'm putting some major expectations on me on this one, and I know it. Trusting my body again to remember how to climb, trusting a belayer to keep me from a sudden fall. Trusting for him to communicate with me if a risk I'm going to take might result in a swingout, so be prepared. Perfect love, perfect trust, perfect communication is needed, and I'll need to go into the climb being okay to do this, and okay to miss a hand or foot hold and dangle up there for awhile.
In the meantime,I've got to get in climbing shape. I'm at my climbing weight now, but my endurance sucks, I get dizzy from the sudden weight loss that occurred with my metaphoric drop. So I've got to come to a better place with myself physically in order to prepare to succeed in the climb. So, I'm eating healthier foods, trying to eat more consistently, and planning on going on hikes and do some resistance training.
Years ago, I did Shotokan Karate, and it was a great thing in helping me get past my "shouldn'ts, can'ts" all of the baggage that came with me about how I perceived myself. I got a lot of body confidence doing it, until I injured a nerve in my back and couldn't go back to it. That actual injury came because of a bad instructor who filled in once for my good instructor. In life in relationships, and with dangerous sports, you've really got to have a good instructor that you can place absolute trust in.
So, that's what I'm going for, a corrective physical experience that will allow me to move the shakes and terror out of my body and get back to what I know. If you concentrate on the bad experience, you'll never climb again and you'll feel safe, but you won't know the process of real rock or real life, and will be sitting at the base just calling up beta to people who do climb. I hate unsolicited beta when I'm climbing, because it distracts me from what it is I am doing. I need to trust myself, know my own body, when I climb. Know and explore what I'm capable of.
It's kind of funny, how I first got into climbing after a workplace crisis that built my confidence enough to want to try it, and now, all these years later, I'm looking to a climb to help me build my confidence physically and relationally. Coming full circle, it seems.
I was mentally inventorying my climbing gear, and realized I need to destroy all of it, because it's too old (they have a short life) - at first, I was irked, but then, my life experiences as of late have made me feel stripped of all equipment I'd previously relied upon anyway. They'll have gear, and all I need are my rock shoes and a chalk bag. It's somewhat funny for me, gear girl extraordinaire, to be thinking of destroying the old, which I loved, and walking freely and lightly with just shoes and a bag. Maybe that's a metaphor, too. I don't haveto hang onto things that no longer serve a purpose, and I can trust I'll get what I need when I'm there.
In the meantime, I've got a little under 4 months to get myself together to do this right. Eat healthier, exercise, gear up my body with the muscles it will need in order to do this right. I don't want to forget I can trust myself, too!
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