Lost. Reward if found.

I’ve stood here before, looking into this same old mirror.


I’ve met many women here.

My mother’s daughter. My children’s mother.
A little sister. A wife. A partner. A quitter.
A geek. A friend. A misfit.
Someone who inspires. An imposter. A leader.
A problem solver. A disappointment.
Someone who asks big questions. A failure.

I often stand here, looking for someone else.
I look in that mirror and think “who am I? what do I want? what do I need? what matters to me??”

And I don’t know. I feel lost.

But sometime, as I wipe away the steam after my shower, I catch my eye.

I stop.

And I simply let all the stories fall away, dropping to the floor next to the dirty jeans and wet towel discarded there in a heap. Somehow, the water rinses off more than just the sweat and soap suds. I let it wash down parts of the “me” that I hold up to the world most days.

In this moment of honesty, I recognize that “I don’t know...” just meansI don’t think I can do that...” or “what if I’m wrong?

I don’t know...” just means “I’m afraid…

What am I afraid of?

Afraid that I really am a failure. Or not good enough. Or that you’ll be disappointed in me.

Afraid that I really am capable of so much more. That I can do great things. That I can do what I dream of. And, if so, why haven’t I done it before now? What’s taking me so long?

It brings to mind the famous quote by Marianna Williamson:
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us.

What most frightens me? It seems easy to feel inadequate – and easy to find “evidence” for the negative stuff. But to feel powerful? Seems impossible, most days.

Truth is they both frighten me. And they’re both true. Perhaps that’s where freedom comes – from embracing these contradictions in my life.

Truth is that I’m ALL of those things.
And I’m still a worthy, capable, growing and changing human being.
I used to think I had to “figure it all out” and then I’d be okay…
Now I realize I’ll never figure it all out. Monks who meditate 365 days a year don’t have it all figured out. I certainly never will!

I’m beginning to feel like it’s okay to be on a journey, to take one thing at a time and trust in my own process. It’s not always how I want it to happen, but it’s happening nonetheless.

For this moment, I stand and look in the mirror and yes, I do know.
I know that I’m all sorts of things. And as long as I can embrace all of that and still keep striving to be better, that’s what counts.

For this moment, I can look at my weaknesses and failures and still believe in myself. I can be a little more patient because I know that I’ve already accomplished things that felt impossible before. I’m well on my way to being the mother that I want to be, that my children need. That hasn’t been a short or easy journey, by any means. And I’m doing it.

Likewise, as hopeless as it may feel in a moment, when I’m looking up at the mountain left to climb, I can look down and see how far I’ve come already – and have faith.

Indeed, this is the reward…

 

 

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It’s the trying…

Sometimes I get so tired. There are days when I feel like I just can’t possibly keep going – keep trying to change the world, keep trying to get everything done for everyone and keep trying not to feel like I’ve failed when I can’t do it all or when I fall down… Sigh.

So, as I read the book “The Invitation” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, the following excerpt resonated with me strongly. It contains good reminders to me – to remember that what I do (or don’t do) doesn’t define me. Or that I can live every moment of my life, experiencing it all without judgment. And (most important to me!) that it’s okay for me to stop and rest sometimes, caring for myself with at least as much energy as I give to caring for others!

Hope you enjoy!

It’s easy to lose sight of the divine in the partner who takes out the garbage, and easier still if he or she doesn’t. It’s hard to remember to look for and see the beloved in the parking attendant or the check-out clerk we encounter. We need shared gestures, small ceremonies that help us pay attention, that let us see and honor the mystery of the other every day. This is the commitment my soul longs to make to the world.

And I want to stop trying to do this.

It is not the being, not even the doing that exhausts. It is the trying: trying to be present, to be awake, to hold the whole world, to be better, more self-aware, more conscious. My hopes for us are real: I want to help create a world where the very idea of toxic waste would raise such a cry of anguish from the people as to make it unthinkable; where we would move, pulled by the heart, to care for the poor, the ill, the dying and despairing without debating whether they are deserving, without fear of contamination, seeing ourselves in each person.

But as honorable as these desires to make a difference may be, I know my motives are mixed. I am afraid that if I am not accomplishing something I will disappear. I will have nothing to offer you when we meet. I want to be able to be able to live for a day, a month, a year – even a life – that wouldn’t make a good story. If I have nothing to tell you when we meet and you ask me what has been happening, I want to be fully content with this. I want to be able to occupy my life to the corners and for this to be enough.

There are places inside me where the soothing balm of rest has never penetrated. I long for a small respite from the reaching, a moment of sweet stillness, quiet darkness, the great silence that can penetrate and loosen the small, hard knots of endless trying. I want to quit running from my own tiredness. I want to be willing and able to move only as fast as I am capable of moving while still remaining connected to the impulse to move from deep within, stopping when I have lost that slender thread of desire and having the courage and faith to wait, in stillness, until I find it again.

This is what I ache for: intimacy with myself, others, and the world, intimacy that touches the sacred in all that is life. This ache, this longing is the thread that guides me back through the labyrinth of compromises I have made, back to my soul’s desires. And sometimes I am afraid of my desires – afraid of what they will ask of me, what vision of myself or the world they will offer that may demand a sacrifice of my carefully cultivated way of seeing. If we are never consumed by the transforming fire of our desires, we risk falling in love with the sweet ache of longing, the daydream of “what if…” or “someday…”

The willingness to live our desires takes courage. So many times our desires have been used against us, used to sell us what someone else wanted us to buy. Moving towards our desire for deep commitment to Spirit, we have been sold blind obedience; opening to our desire to love, we have been sold an abandonment of self; seeking to embrace our desire for beauty, we have been sold everything from cars to clothes, exotic vacations to plastic surgery. We have been sold a lifestyle, when what our soul desired was life.

To taste our longing, to feel the ache, we risk finding our soul’s desire. We risk falling short of fulfilling those desires. We risk living our desires fully.

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the best parenting we do

Before I became a parent, I promised myself I would do everything in my power to be perfect.

I would never say “later…”

I would never use the TV as a babysitter…

I would never let myself forget that they are my absolute top priority in life…

My twitter friend, Chris Wejr (@mrwejr) recently reflected on the upcoming birth of his twins and wanting to never forget to balance his career with his family.

As a result, I find myself reflecting on my 13 years of parenting. And thinking that maybe I can demystify a bit of Chris’ (and his wife’s) fast approaching parenting experience.

So dear Chris,

Let me kill the suspense for you – there will, indeed, be days when you  have to say “I’m not sure when I’ll be home sweetie. But I love you!” Only to hear silence, or even worse, gulping sobs on the other end of the phone. Guaranteed.

There will be days, particularly in the beginning, when you’ll be ecstatic that you got your teeth brushed before dinner time, or actually managed to have a shower. Let alone make dinner or clean the house.

You will come home one more time, after they’ve fallen asleep in their beds – only to sneak in and silently watch them breathing. Your heart will ache and a tear will trace a path down your cheek. Because you missed story time again – and you promised them you wouldn’t…

You will be torn apart when you have to peel a screaming toddler off of your leg and push him into the daycare, running away quickly to minimize the separation. He will be happily playing with his friends quickly, while you’ll feel like your heart has been ripped from your chest for the rest of the day.

You will yell when all she needed was a hug. You will wish you could suck the words back into your mouth when you see her face fall, realizing too late that she was trying to show you her latest creation, filled with all the pride in her little heart.

And you’ll realize that these moments can facilitate the most important parenting that you’ll ever do.

We love deeply, we care passionately, and we wouldn’t want it any other way. After all, we hope that our children will live their lives out loud, passionate, taking risks, making mistakes, and always striving to be their best.

And we can model how to do that – in living, breathing, imperfectly human ways!

When we make a mistake (and we will), we can show them the strength it takes to recognize that and say we’re sorry.

We can let them see what it looks like to have the persistence it takes to “fall down seven time, get up eight” (Chinese Proverb).

We can let them see our struggle and the constant adjusting it takes to both love our families AND to love our work. Because our highest hope is that they will have the same struggles one day – to have the gift in their lives of loving family and the opportunity to do things that are important to them.

Ultimately, I think there are some fundamental things that our children need to both hear us say and see us do:

1) that we love them no matter what. And that “love” means being dedicated to always leaving them “intact” – the actual actions that show that the person/relationship is always more important than being right, or being on time, or having control.

2) that we have faith in them and their future. That we see their true selves, their best intentions and their strengths/weaknesses. And believe in them, even when they have those not-so-great moments or stages.

3) what it means, in reality, to be kind – not only to others but to ourselves as well. To forgive easily but yet also have high expectations – and to say “what can I do to help?”

4) that caring about the world and trying to do many important things is a worthy struggle.

The other stuff – sleeping through the night, learning to walk, turning off the TV, the piano practice, not jumping on the bed, cleaning up after themselves, remembering to brush their teeth, behaving at Grandma’s house, etc… It will all fall into place, as you move together through all the stages. In fact, those are the times you’ll have to remember to trust in yourself – having faith that you’ll figure out how to handle all that stuff when you get there, even though you have no idea how it will work right now!

The best parenting you’ll ever do will be the stuff you can’t even imagine ahead of time. And it will often be opposite to what you expect. It will surprise you. Which makes it all the more precious – because those are the times when you’ll suddenly realize that you’re blazing your own way instead of following the beaten path.

That’s what your children will remember about you and it’s the stuff that will speak most loudly of your love!

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Allowing myself to trust

I looked up definitions of trust and these were the ones that fit as I thought about relationships:
* have confidence or faith in
* certainty based on past experience
* the trait of believing in the honesty and reliability of others

And the one that really struck me:
* allow without fear

I’ve recognized a pattern I have of doubting whether people really like me – even when they tell me that they do. I slough off their compliments. I jump to negative conclusions about things they say or do. I convince myself that they must really be angry at me or frustrated with me or think that I’m more trouble than I’m worth. It takes me a little while…

These are very old patterns for me – I’ve been dancing this dance for a long time now. And I used to just keep everyone out. I got really good at figuring out what people wanted and expected of me – and then being that. I’m pretty darned good at detecting when someone’s not necessarily happy (although I was always terrible at accurately knowing why they were upset – I’d just try to do whatever I had to do to make it stop). I put up the facade of “who I am” so that very few ever knew that I wasn’t really feeling happy, confident, successful, smart, together, relaxed, attractive or knowledgeable.

The compliments that people gave me not only surprised me, but truly frightened me. What if I can’t live up to that? What if someone expects something that I can’t deliver? What if they find out I’m a fraud? (some call this one “Imposter Syndrome”)

But what if I ask myself some different questions?

What if I allow myself to trust what people say to me, taking it all at face value? What if I allow – maybe not without fear, but perhaps despite fear?

How would my life be different?

Posted in Finding Myself | Tagged , , | 4 Comments