the universe is funny sometimes.

So it's been some time since I've written on this blog.

This summer I took on a couple of different things, not quite knowing what this fall semester will hold.

Teaching 2 courses feels like a full-time job. Partly because I am aware that I am detail-oriented (and ok, perfectionist... ugh I hate saying that), so I tend to spend excessive amounts of time over little details.

I do miss writing here though, so I thought I'd share some random things that have been going on lately...

I was so excited to be teaching yoga again, and to be selling cookies - both of which I thought long and hard about (as my cautious self does) before jumping in. And just when I told myself, "YES", and got it started, an injury creeps up on me.

I talked to a childhood friend of mine, an occupational therapist who specializes in hand therapy, based in California. She "diagnosed" me via FaceTime. Don't you love technology? She suspected tendonitis. And another friend of mine, an MD in Kentucky, suspected the same. I'm doctor-less right now, so I had to find more creative ways of getting a "consultation".

So yes, just when I started teaching yoga (and doing more down dogs, chatturangas, etc) AND just when I started selling cookies (read: manual labor), I now feel really limited by my wrist issues. After thinking long and hard about whether to do it, then finally I did  it... why now, of all times, do I have to have this injury?

The universe is funny sometimes. 

Not that my so-called issues are earth-shattering, by any means. Far from it. Earth-shattering, no. Frustrating, yes.

So I finally got this monster of a mouse:

Logitech Trackball M570

Technically I don't think it's a mouse - you actually don't move the whole unit, just that nifty blue trackball with your thumb to navigate on your screen.

Funny thing is, this injury s-l-o-w-l-y started creeping up on me probably in... July? And I held off on buying this because I loved the "motion economy" (to quote my dad) of using my Macbook's trackpad. I loved the quick, efficient movements from keyboard to trackpad and trackpad to keyboard while working. Because I'm actually not the most patient person when it comes to my work - and I felt that using a mouse would slow me down. I realized many times before that I do not really like slowing down very much when I'm working. Especially when the sheer volume of work just sometimes seems... insurmountable, relative to the number of hours in a day.

But I realize my occupational hazards of working at a computer pretty much all day, and then practicing/teaching yoga, and then baking. I don't ever give my hands a break. No wonder they are protesting.

Lessons learned, for sure. 

And as I'm learning more about ergonomically designed workspaces, my workspace - both at home and on campus - are set up horribly. But that's another story.

What is it about this urgency to see results, and why is it hard to let it go? Funny how I've been talking about "incremental, yet meaningful change" (I think I got that from a Leeann Carey workshop) while teaching yoga. Perhaps I've been saying it a lot in class, because it's a reminder I need for myself as well.

So as I'm learning to use my new "trackball", I'm learning to give myself time for the movements to be stored in my muscle memory, and trying to be more patient in seeing results. Even if I don't have quite the same precision of movement yet with the trackball as I did with my built-in laptop trackpad. I'm getting there. I still get frustrated occasionally, but I think the trackball and I are slowly becoming friends.

I'm learning to sit still and be patient as I soak my hand and wrist in a big pot of warm water mixed with epsom salts, much to the amusement of my husband as he watches me try to sit still, knowing that in my mind, my thoughts are racing about needing to get X, Y, and Z done.

image source

I'm learning to own up to what I just can't do. Three times I've had to contact a few friends who ordered cookies, to say that I couldn't fulfill their cookie orders that week when I was in pain. And all of those times I learned how understanding other people are when you come forward with honesty (thank you, Misty, Anne Dean, and Lissa). I was so worried about what they would think, when really, all of them said in their own kind ways - it's all good, send the cookies whenever you can.

I'm learning to be more aware, more intentional with my movements - beyond my yoga mat - so that I don't further injure myself.

I'm learning to give my hands a break when I'm tired and just put everything on hold for a while, instead of rushing from one thing to the next to fulfill this need to be "productive".

Because it's certainly difficult to be productive while pushing through pain. Especially when even simple everyday things like pushing down on a soap pump with my hand or carrying some dishes can make me wince, like it did last night.

And I'm learning the hard way about being patient with myself.

Incremental, yet meaningful change.
 

redirecting the self-talk

Hindu temple, Ujjain, India | May 2012

"When we judge ourselves, we break our own hearts."

Something I've been thinking about after hearing a yoga teacher talk about this last week... so I'm committing to observe my thinking - whether I'm judging myself or not - for the next few days. Anyone care to join me?

I know it won't be perfect (aaack, judging again... see? Case in point.). I know I'll slip up and find that I'm judging myself. It's so easy to do. But it can be so destructive - the more we judge ourselves, the more we stay in the shadow of negativity and doubt. 

So when it does happen, I'll try to just observe what I'm thinking, rather than judge.

Then I'll let it go.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

We'll see...

web-aholics anonymous?

I've talked about this before, and it's on my mind again.

The Internet.

Ah, my I-can't-live-without-you relationship. Sad, I know.

source

Hello, I'm Mia, and I'm a web-aholic.

Anyone else with me?

Or am I hearing crickets in the background? I know you're out there...

Recently I read an article about how the web is driving us mad. I do understand that the title is a bit inaccurate as it's not the internet itself, but how we use it (and the author does say this - that it's how we use it that creates problems).

I started thinking about this as I move forward in my new little venture that I wrote about yesterday, and how I would need to strengthen my online presence, my network, yada yada yada. And yes, I know it's important in any business.

Instagram. Pinterest. LinkedIn. Blogger. Facebook. And crap, now I have to tweet? (shudder)

I'm not against any of these things. In fact I use most of them (so far, except Twitter. Not quite ready for that). I don't know how we managed before Skype or Facetime, especially to keep in touch with family and friends who are half a world away. And I'm not afraid to say I love using these tools - though some more than others. Duh, I write a blog, right? And I'm a self-proclaimed Instagram-aholic.

It used to be (years ago) that I went on the Internet for a very specific purpose. To send an email, for example. Going online meant waiting for a dial-up connection that was spotty at best (do you all still remember that somewhat annoying sound when connecting through dial-up? Those were the days...). I would send off my email then disconnect and turn that clunky computer off. And now we have information right at our fingertips, 24/7/365, all in sleek, fast, tiny-yet-powerful devices. How many of us check our email on our phones even before we get out of bed? (slowly and guiltily raising a hand here)

I've been thinking about this as Kristin has been writing a series on intentionality over the past several days (starting with simplifying our lives - go catch up here if you're interested - it's good stuff!)

But that's the key - it used to be that I got on the Internet because of a specific intention or purpose. Now, I sometimes catch myself realizing how it can really become an almost mindless, endless time-suck. It's no longer very mindful or intentional because it's something that is just always there. Being online has now become a default state. Just think about all those smartphone apps that have "push notifications" that make something pop up on your screen every second of the day (ok, I'm exaggerating) unless you choose to turn it off in your settings.

"In less than the span of a single childhood, Americans have merged with their machines." (Tony Dokoupil)

 No wonder it's so easy to get overwhelmed.

I've gone through phases of taking breaks. Several months ago I took a Facebook break, and I've since lessened my use of it once I got back on. Last week I didn't write anything on my blog. I felt the need to be away for a little bit and unplug, and just do something else. I also didn't want to write just for the sake of posting something on the blog. Interestingly, a couple of my friends also talked about how they felt the need to do the same last week, and I've even read other bloggers write about the need to take a break. Funny how I heard this from so many people, at the same time I had been thinking about it for the past couple of weeks. There must have been something about how the planets were aligned recently or what phase the moon was in, I don't know.

Regardless, I think it's great when that happens. It's good and healthy to recognize when we need to turn off. Though I think it would be even better if I learned to manage it from the start before I get overwhelmed.

I think the key is to remember how the Internet is a tool, after all. A hammer - or any tool for that matter - is only as good as its user; if the user has the skill to manage it and use it toward a specific end or outcome. The next step then would be to keep our intention or outcome in mind, then be selective about the online tools we use, and finally to manage how we use it. It becomes problematic when the Internet controls us, when it really should be the other way around. The problem is that it's just so.freaking.addictive. (I'm looking at you, Instagram.)

So in thinking about my Internet use, I started to feel a sense of dread, almost, as I thought about the need to do more online marketing and be even more plugged in once I "officially" launch my business. But in the end, it's also a choice. I read an interesting take on Facebook from a successful blogger who chose not to use it (see here - part 1 and 2). So maybe I won't have to start tweeting, after all. Whew. I can choose not to.

Yes, my use of the Internet comes from a desire to connect with others. I've started making some great connections online and I do enjoy my (small) online blogging community. The Internet is only one of the tools to meet that end. I actually enjoyed my Facebook break - I decided I would more intentionally re-connect with others by making more phone calls or sending a card via snail mail. (I still enjoy doing that... don't you?). But a certain amount of being plugged in is inevitable, and it's up to me to make healthy choices and manage my online time.

On "Sacred Space"

I loved this article on the need to reclaim sacred space. Such a great reminder to allow ourselves time to be free of interruptions and enjoy just being alone with our thoughts without the constant dings and beeps from our mobile devices. This friend recently told me about how she started sketching and drawing again - what a great example of creating sacred space.

I'm looking forward to my sacred space on my yoga mat today - I'll be teaching a class tonight (yay!). Then there's my after-dinner walk with A., when we talk about our dreams, exchange even more childhood stories, or laugh at the corniest of jokes. And my sacred space in the kitchen to experiment with a new shortbread flavor or bond with my ice cream maker. ;-) All great times to be mindful, intentional, and present.

How do you unplug? Do you intentionally create a "sacred space" for yourself?

nostalgia...and the things I learned (and continue to learn) in the kitchen

my mom and my niece, baking in the kitchen that was once my playground

This photo warms my heart like you wouldn't believe. My parents sent this photo recently and I couldn't help but Instagram it (That's a verb now, right? Just like "I Google-d it."?).

I look at this photo, and each time I just can't stop thinking, "Awwww".

It just brings back such warm memories of learning to cook and bake from my mom. I was probably three years old, just like my niece in the photo above. And I too stood on a stool to watch my mom measure, pour, and mix as I made my own mess on the countertop (and ok, the floor too). I wrote more about it here.

In the years that followed I learned to be fearless in the kitchen. Mistakes and all.

I learned that sometimes you can have beginner's luck and turn out perfect gougères the first time -- a little triumph for my teenage self, before the advent of the Internet and on-demand, step-by-step video tutorials on food blogs and youtube. And at other times your efforts can result in a complete flop, like my first attempt at risotto at age 15 (or 16? can't remember) that resulted in a massive, sticky glob of arborio rice. Or meringues that turned into one solid layer of egg whites -- that were NOWHERE near the looks of "stiff, glossy peaks" -- hopelessly stuck to the baking sheet when I pulled it out of the oven. Apparently it caused quite an imprint on my brothers' memory as they still recount this story to this day, and we all get a good laugh out of it.

I learned that you just have to laugh at yourself (ok, maybe cry over spilled milk for a little while - er, wasted arborio rice or egg whites), move on, and try again. And clean up your mistakes, of course. Because the dishes don't magically wash themselves.

And when you have a big family waiting in anticipation of your first risotto -- or I should say the unrecognizable mass of what was possibly arborio rice -- I learned that it's important to improvise. To have a "plan B".

I learned about when you have to go at full-speed, when to pace yourself, and when to slow down. Like how vigorously stirring your custard causes bubbles, and results in unsightly little air pockets  rather than perfectly smooth, creamy flan that is the outcome of slow, gentle stirring.

I learned that sometimes shortcuts are ok, but at other times they are disastrous.

I learned that there's value in waiting. It was often while waiting for a cake to do its thing in the oven that my mom and I had the best conversations.

I learned about when it's important to follow a recipe to the letter, and when it's better to use your intuition and cook by feel.

I learned to treasure yellowed, stained, hand-written recipes in a falling-apart notebook more than an untouched, glossy, for-display-only cookbook.

I learned about the pleasure of making something from scratch and nourishing others with it. About the memories built when a family sits down together to dinner. Dinners that seem to naturally stretch into a few hours as we talk and reminisce and laugh. And listen to my grandparents' stories about the war. (It's my late grandfather's birthday today...happy birthday, Papa)

I learned that life's too short to sacrifice quality and short-change yourself. My mom always said to use the good china and silver even for everyday meals. Matching placemats* for everyday, and elegant chargers for special occasions. She even had cloth napkins on which she handpainted little designs on the corners. Little ways to infuse beauty and art into the everyday. So she set the table nicely, thus giving importance to family mealtime. Although it wasn't just about the "things" on the table. It was setting the scene for something essential.

Because life's too short to not spend quality time with the people you love.

I learned to listen to the wisdom of someone more experienced - in the kitchen, and in life. And now, years later, I also know to trust in my own wisdom. Kitchen experiments** and otherwise.

 Life's lessons, indeed.



* My parents always chuckle when they re-tell the story of how we were dinner guests at an aunt and uncle's house. I was maybe three or four years old, and apparently I put my aunt on the spot because as we sat down to dinner, I asked loudly, "Mom, where are the placemats?" Oh, for shame. Shame on me.

** My risotto turns out consistently creamy and al dente now, thank goodness. But I'm still not a huge fan of meringues.

putting myself out there, a.k.a. "being vulnerable"

I just stumbled upon this gal's blog through a friend's blog that I visit pretty regularly (I love finding new blogs this way!). In this post, she quoted:

In the Mind of God, there is a fully created image of you at your most creative, abundant and joyful. And there is a divine blueprint by which this image would take form in your life. It is not something you can make happen, but it is something you can allow to happen, by making the softening of your heart your primary goal. This is the meaning of spiritual surrender. (Marianne Williamson)


Wow... this idea of "softening your heart" - it reminds me of the work of Brene Brown (have you seen her TED talks?). There was one talk that I listened some time ago in which she talked about the idea of vulnerability, and how "vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change". Which can then lead us to what Williamson calls our "fully created image of us at our most creative, abundant and joyful".

Pretty powerful stuff. It amazes me to see the connection between what people are saying...

What amazes me even more is the truth to their words. To reach our full potential, we have to put ourselves "out there" - something I've always been hesitant to do.

It's my secret dream (well, not-so-secret now!) to write a book one day. Well, two books actually - one education-related and one would be a book of photographs with accompanying reflections/meditations. It requires putting myself out there.

My dream of starting a small food business. Again, putting myself out there.

Taking the leap to teach yoga again. Once again... it means putting myself out there. Being vulnerable.

But as Brene Brown says, vulnerability is not a bad thing. Galileo put himself in a vulnerable position to say that the earth revolves around the sun.

I went back to the times I put myself out there, allowed myself to be vulnerable. And how it felt to be in that situation. How nerve-wracking it was, and yet, how amazingly fulfilling it was. Like presenting research at a professional conference. It was scary - standing up in a room full of people, all of whom were expecting new knowledge.

I remember other times I've put myself out there in the past. It's funny how I much more of a risk-taker I was when I was younger. When I was in college, I started a small food business with my brother's then-girlfriend (now his wife). We both loved to bake. And she was good at selling. We both came up with an idea, and one Christmas started selling pastries. It was such a great experience - to have people call us and place their orders, baking long into the night, and even making our own boxes (thanks to my brother, who was then an architecture student and made us a template for our boxes!). It was by no means a large-scale venture - we probably did it for at least 2 Christmases - but the point is, we put ourselves out there. We took the risk. More importantly, it taught us lessons. And - we had a blast!

Then again... I realize, I put myself out there all the time. Like on this blog. Even all the writing I do for my academic work... and it's no wonder I get so nervous every time I compose the email to my advisors with my most recent draft attached. I feel vulnerable, because I put my mind, heart, and soul into the work, for someone else to see and judge. I feel vulnerable - there I am, staring at my computer screen, second-guessing myself and then finally taking a deep breath before I hit "send."

It is in that deep breath that I soften my heart, affirm that I've done the work, then let myself be vulnerable... and in the process let myself grow - even if it involves making mistakes or failing.

Because it is in not being vulnerable that I keep myself from being open to opportunity and challenge. And without that, how would I achieve innovation, creativity, and change?

Last year I took the lead in writing a federal grant application to develop and implement a 5-year project. It was a long shot, for sure. Here I am, an inexperienced researcher, writing an application (with the support of my advisor) for which only 9 awards were available nationally. For days and days and days I worked nonstop to put together ~250 pages of work. I put myself fully into the task, and I put myself out there. Six months later, we found out that it didn't get funded (a nice way of saying we got rejected!). But you know what? I was proud of the work, regardless. Because our goal was to innovate and create. We got 2 out of 3 really good reviews, but the 3rd review pulled our score down... but all the reviewers had some great constructive feedback to offer.

And so we are resubmitting again this year, with the feedback in mind to make a better, stronger application. We are putting ourselves out there another time -  in the hopes of innovating, creating, and changing.

How have you put yourselves out there?

~

PS: Watch Dr. Brown's talk here:

reminder: take time to live

source: etsy

connecting, seeing, living - by photographer Penny de los Santos

This photographer and friend of mine sent me an email this morning about an event happening TONIGHT - Chef Dan Barber and photographer Penny de los Santos speaking at the Cleveland Public Library. Food and photography: what's not to like? Unfortunately, Thursday night is my teaching night at the university, so I won't be able to make it. Darn.

But I did chance upon Penny de los Santos' TEDxTalk above (I think TED Talks are one of the best things since chocolate). What she says is everything I aspire to be/do: to savor moments and connect meaningfully with others.

Worth watching! 

be your own best friend

I had a recent conversation with a colleague, a former preschool teacher turned doctoral student. Needless to say, both of us are currently in high stress, in an environment where excellence is the bare minimum. I would guess many of you have been or are in this kind of situation, no matter your profession. My colleague and I talked about how, through our work with young children, we tend to behave in compassionate, flexible, and forgiving ways toward the children, understanding that each child can have a rough day. On the other hand, we tend to be overly critical of ourselves... when in truth, we are also allowed to have bad days. 

One day, in the course of my food blog-surfing, I chanced upon this blog and read this:

"My old therapist says that we should believe in ourselves just as much. She says that if we had a friend who doubted us as much as we, at times, doubt ourselves, we wouldn’t even speak to that person. And she’s right. Who wants to be friends with someone who undermines and second-guesses her?" (Olga Massov, Sassy Radish)

A moment of serendipity. What a great reminder, and an answer to my question in this recent post about making more positive choices. The question was: Do my thoughts reflect compassion, or perpetuate harm?

I then thought of how I've often harmed myself through my own overly critical thoughts, when I turned on my Doubting Thomas mode... when really, I should be my own best friend.

my nieces, age 3 (photo taken by my brother)

In times of stress, crisis, or great challenge, what would your best friend say to you? And could you say those positive things to yourself?

take flight

Cleveland Botanical Garden

"Some birds can't be caged. Their feathers are too bright."  

{The above quote is in my opinion one of the most memorable lines in one of my favorite movies, Shawshank Redemption. It was stated by Red, the character played by Morgan Freeman, to describe his fellow prison inmate Andy, played by Tim Robbins.}

I love this plant - I *think* it could be related to the "birds of paradise" flower, but I'm not sure. Whatever the case, I am just amazed by its form and beauty. Nature is truly is amazing in how it expresses itself most fully. 

It reminds me to take flight, towards the fullest expression of myself.

Whoever you are, whatever you do - I hope you, too, are taking flight.

be thankful for your troubles

Big thanks to Sharon for this lovely notebook

Below was a Thanksgiving message from my advisor:

"Be thankful if you don't feel like you are living the dream today and don't already have everything you desire. If you did, what would there be to look forward to?

Be thankful when you don't know something, for it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times your advisors generously provide you. During those times you grow.

Be thankful for your limitations, because they give you opportunities for improvement.

Be thankful for each new challenge, because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful when you're tired, because it means you've actually done something.

It's easy to be thankful for the good things.

Take the time this week to spend time with family and find a way to be thankful for your troubles, and they can become your blessings."

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!

fill a space in a beautiful way (Georgia O'Keeffe)

"Fill a space in a beautiful way." -Georgia O'Keeffe, artist, 1887-1986

 Cleveland Botanical Garden

It's amazing how the words of others can reflect my inner state. I've been feeling the need for art lately - in many different forms. Interior design. Photography. Movement. There's something about surrounding oneself with beauty - not just for the external or superficial qualities but for the thought, spirit, and emotion that goes into art. Art elevates the mundane.

But at the heart of the matter is, how can we as human beings fill our "spaces" (whatever that may be - home, work, communities) in a beautiful way? Again, not with a superficial kind of beauty--but inner grace, compassion, and action that makes some kind of positive impact, that elevates the mundane for another person. An intention, a word, an act that reminds another person that "yes, the world is a beautiful place."

chaos

I've finally resurfaced from a reclusive writing period. At the end of May - after weeks of seemingly endless computer work, I turned in over 200 pages worth of writing. It is such a relief to finally have that behind me (now if only that writing project was my dissertation... then I would be close to being done with my degree. But no...). As stressful as it was, I welcomed the challenge. I didn't quite welcome the stress (and its associated neck and shoulder pain, achy wrists and back, throbbing eyelids, etc) with open arms, though. But I have to say that at the end of the project, I felt pretty proud of myself!

As much as I enjoy (and need) writing in a leisurely manner, like on this blog, somehow I just didn't feel like there was any more space in my brain. So leisure writing and journalling certainly took a backseat. Instead I churned out pages of research and other academic "stuff". It was definitely a process... of saying "yes" to the challenge, from starting from a blank page to one page, two pages, several... seeing the process of how it slowly took shape. I found myself reaching towards yoga in the process - especially the principles of practice and non-attachment. I knew, that if I were to take on this endeavor, I had to detach myself from the very high stakes involved, from the result, and instead just commit myself to writing. Because high stakes = pressure. Interestingly, I'm not sure how "acceptable" this concept of non-attachment is in the workplace and in a product/outcome-oriented world. When I mentioned this to my superior -- about how I would just write and let go of the outcome (in different words) -- I think she misunderstood me and thought that I was not going to give my 100%. But I did - 100% and then some. Because I was so overwhelmed by this project in the beginning, I just had to detach myself from thinking about the result in order to just take that step forward and do it. Hmm. Makes me think about how I should maybe keep some thoughts to myself and out of the work environment.

Now that the project is done, the question that has been on my mind is, what if the thing/activity/work that you love is also a stressor?

I read an article somewhere (wish I could remember the source) in which the author wrote about how sometimes we unconsciously seek more drama (stress, chaos, deadlines, etc...) in our lives, and behave in such a way that we end up having more of that. Could this be true? Do I really seek more stress in my life, and if I do, why?

That line of thinking portrays chaos as something negative... and then I remembered that I have a magnet that reads: "One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star." (Nietzsche)

I love that. I think it explains this state of being. Chaos (i.e., challenge, stress, etc) will always be there. Even if it comes from something (or someone) you love. I'm not a parent, but I would guess that parenting is like that - yes, it's stressful, but it involves someone you love so dearly. It involves someone that matters so much. And in my world, my work matters to me. I love what I do, stressful as it is. So it's how we deal with it - it's what we do with that chaos. Because it's the chaos that pushes us to evolve, to adapt, to create...if, within that chaos, we can come to a place of stillness and focus. If we can gather all that chaotic energy and somehow transform it - to "give birth to a dancing star." (or in my world, 250 pages of work)

Perhaps chaos isn't a bad thing after all. How do you transform the chaos in your life?

the sacrament of waiting

I received this in an email a while ago and thought it was too good not to share here.

Reading this is keeping things in perspective for me -- especially given my overplanning, mind-on-overdrive nature.

The Sacrament of Waiting
James Donelan, S.J.

The English poet John Milton once wrote that those who serve stand and wait. I think I would go further and say that those who wait render the highest form of service. Waiting requires more discipline, more self-control and emotional maturity, more unshakeable faith in our cause, more unwavering hope in the future, more sustaining love in our hearts than all the great deeds of derring-do that go by the name of action.

Waiting is a mystery—a natural sacrament of life. There is a meaning hidden in all the times we have to wait. It must be an important mystery because there is so much waiting in our lives.

Everyday is filled with those little moments of waiting—testing our patience and our nerves, schooling us in our self-control. We wait for meals to be served, for a letter to arrive, for a friend, concerts and circuses. Our airline terminals, railway stations, and bus depots are temples of waiting filled with men and women who wait in joy for the arrival of a loved one—or wait in sadness to say goodbye and to give that last wave of hand. We wait for birthdays and vacations; we wait for Christmas. We wait for spring to come or autumn—for the rains to begin or stop.

And we wait for ourselves to grow from childhood to maturity. We wait for those inner voices that tell us when we are ready for the next step. We wait for graduation, for our first job, our first promotion. We wait for success, and recognition. We wait to grow up—to reach the stage where we make our own decision.

We cannot remove this waiting from our lives. It is part of the tapestry of living—the fabric in which the threads are woven that tell the story of our lives.

Yet the current philosophies would have us forget the need to wait. “Grab all the gusto you can get.” So reads one of America ’s great beer advertisements—Get it now. Instant pleasure—instant transcendence. Don’t wait for anything. Life is short—eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you’ll die. And so they rationalize us into accepting unlicensed and irresponsible freedom…they warn against attachment and commitment, against expecting anything of anybody, or allowing them to expect anything of us, against vows and promises, against duty and responsibility, against dropping any anchors in the currents of our life that will cause us to hold and to wait.

This may be the correct prescription for pleasure—but even that is fleeting and doubtful. What was it Shakespeare said about the mad pursuit of pleasure? “Past reason hunted, and once had, past reason hated.” Now if we wish to be real human beings, spirit as well as flesh, souls as well as heart, we have to learn to love someone else other than ourselves.

For most of all waiting means waiting for someone else. It is a mystery brushing by our face everyday like stray wind or a leaf falling from a tree. Anyone who has ever loved knows how much waiting goes into it, how much waiting is important for love to grow, to flourish through a lifetime.

Why is this so? Why can’t we have love right now—two years, three years, five years—and seemingly waste so much time? You might as well ask why a tree should take so long to bear fruit, the seed to flower, carbon to change into a diamond.

There is no simple answer, no more than there is to life’s demands: having to say goodbye to someone you love because either you or they have already made other commitments, or because they have to grow and find the meaning of their own lives, having yourself to leave home and loved ones to find your path. Goodbyes, like waiting, are also sacraments of our lives.

All we know is that growth—the budding, the flowering of love needs patient waiting. We have to give each other time to grow. There is no way we can make someone else truly love us or we love them, except through time. So we give each other that mysterious gift of waiting—of being present without making demands or asking rewards. There is nothing harder to do than this. It tests the depth and sincerity of our love. But there is life in the gift we give.

So lovers wait for each other until they can see things the same way, or let each other freely see things in quite different ways. What do we lose when lovers hurt each other and cannot regain the balance and intimacy of the way they were? They have to wait—in silence—but still be present to each other until the pain subsides to an ache and then only a memory, and the threads of the tapestry can be woven together again in a single love story.

What do we lose when we refuse to wait? When we try to find short cuts through life, when we try to incubate love and rush blindly and foolishly into a commitment we are neither mature nor responsible enough to assume? We lose the hope of ever truly loving or being loved. Think of all the great love stories of history and literature. Isn’t it of their very essence that they are filled with the strange but common mystery—that waiting is part of the substance, the basic fabric—against which the story of that true love is written?

How can we ever find either life or love if we are too impatient to wait for it?

**************

Most importantly... thank you, A., for waiting. For that, I am blessed.

 Nature's reminders to wait... with faith, trust, and patience.

authenticity

I've been reflecting on this notion of authenticity. My reading has led me to the work of Dr. Brene Brown, an author, speaker, and research professor who studies vulnerability, courage, authenticity, and shame. Here are her big questions:

"How do we learn to embrace our vulnerabilities and imperfections so that we can engage in our lives from a place of authenticity and worthiness? How do we cultivate the courage, compassion, and connection that we need to recognize that we are enough – that we are worthy of love, belonging, and joy?" (http://www.brenebrown.com/welcome)

Wow. After writing a blog post a few months ago on using a mantra "I am enough" to reduce my anxiety and worry, I got goosebumps after reading that question.  Someone is actually studying this? And not just studying it, but writing and speaking about it? I felt this sudden realization that I am not alone in my ramblings. I felt a sudden sense of connection. It was like Dr. Brown was speaking directly to me. Because the reality I believe is that we are all somehow connected within our personal journeys. It's what makes us human.

I also viewed her TED conference video on vulnerability and authenticity. Her talk was so heartfelt and insightful, yet lighthearted and funny. The last slide in her presentation brought tears to my eyes. Watch it here:

In her website I came across this postcard of writings by Dr. Brown. It was like a personal message. A friend of mine calls it "God Winks".

You can download your Authenticity 4x6 card (for free) from Brene Brown's website. Click here!

Some thoughts I will be thinking about before the new year...

• How do I define and practice authenticity in my own life? 
• How can I balance being authentic AND productive (i.e., in my work)? Can these two qualities work together compatibly?
• How can I be most authentic in my relationships with others? In my inner/spiritual life? In my professional life? 
• How do I let myself be vulnerable, so that I can also be compassionate to myself and others?

Happy New Year everyone! Here's to our own journeys towards our most authentic selves in 2011.

"push and yield"

An excerpt from one of my favorite yoga books:

"Every yoga posture involves a 'push' and a 'yield'. Pushing is an active force that moves the body further and deeper into the posture, gently exploring areas of tightness. Yielding is a passive force with which you wait and listen to the moment-to-moment feedback from your body; it's a letting go of resistance that allows the active force to be successful without being aggressive. The pushing and yielding elements occur simultaneously, as in a dance. Done properly, therefore, yoga is a matter of pushing and yielding, of 'doing' and 'not-doing,' at the same time."

- Erich Schiffman, Yoga: The Spirit and Practice of Moving Into Stillness, p. 48

Isn't this how we should live life? To aspire for balance through pushing and yielding. We need that "push" to challenge ourselves, but we also need to know when to "yield" and let go of control.

More to learn. So much to learn.

reflections from the mat

It's been a rough 2 weeks, hence my cyber-absence from the blog. I've been dealing with a lot of uncertainty, and I am completely aware of the fact that I. DO. NOT. deal with uncertainty very well. I completely admit to my control freak self - though I *think* I've gotten better at it, sometimes she still comes back full force. Hence the anxiety. And the emotional rollercoaster.

It's interesting how it's during those times when we need self-care the most when we neglect it the most. I had not been walking as often, had not been practicing yoga as often. Sleeping poorly. I know in my rational mind, that despite my 4 deadlines this week, I need to make time for self-care. Somehow it seems to just slip away all to easily, until finally... the crash. Does this happen to you?

So this morning, I decided to say hello to my yoga mat again. I swept the floors -- to clear the space in a physical sense -- but also symbolically, I think. Clearing the negative energy as best I could.

I practiced a vinyasa flow sequence, which I love. And to my surprise, in this time of weakness, it seemed that I was regaining the strength in my arms and shoulders with every chaturanga. It was a source of strength I had forgotten. I also recognized the feeling of uncertainty in my left leg while doing a warrior and balancing sequence on the left side -- knowing that my left leg is significantly weaker than the right. And I taught myself to be ok with it, to breathe through it, and find strength in the breath. To be ok with weakness, to be ok with uncertainty. To be ok with the fact that there are always two sides to a story. Strength and weakness.

And in my ending meditation, I felt a gentle breeze coming in through the window. As I felt it touch my arms and face, it was the most comforting sensation I have felt in the past few weeks. Because it made me realize that the world doesn't always give us gale winds, it give us gentle breezes too. Two sides to a story. Gale winds and gentle breezes. Force and gentleness. It's true in life. But I realize, that when the strong winds come, that my strength is somewhere inside of me -- it just gets buried sometimes underneath the layers and layers of worry. I just have to breathe through it. And I know that the storms will eventually slow down, and will be followed by the comfort of a gentle breeze.

I gazed at the beautiful blue sky out the window, seeing the leaves starting to turn. The thought that came to mind is "transitions." I silently said a mantra:

I let go of worry.
I let go of control.
I let go of my burdens.


I open my heart to uncertainty.
I open my heart to transitions.
I open my heart to grace and the greater good that is in store for me.

And so I felt peace. Even for just this morning. Yes, the uncertainty is there. But I am teaching and re-teaching myself to accept it. It's a lot of work. But just as I accept my feelings of uncertainty and weakness in my physical yoga practice, I am beginning to accept uncertainty with the knowledge that there is a source of strength inside me. With the knowledge that the storms come and go, but there's always a place of calm after the storm. It's grace at work. And for that, I am grateful.

a gentle reminder: slow down

I was in our university library this morning, and the elevators there are notoriously S-L-O-W. I had to push the "door close" button three times, and it had a response time of 7.4 seconds to finally close (ok, ok... I didn't really count). The other student next to me chuckled. I said, "these elevators are SO SLOW!"

Then she said, "Well, it's a good time to think during a busy day."

Wow. Now that was pretty yogic.

You never know where you might find wisdom. Elevators included.

Happy Friday!

CAN and WILL

"That we can is probably our most fundamental, most important, and most enduring dimension; that we will is simply logical." 
- Donald Baer, Montrose Wolf, and Todd Risley (1987), behavior research scientists

As you may have noticed, I love quoting others' words of wisdom and inspiration. This was the final statement in a recent behavior research article that I read for one of my classes. How interesting to find such views about life in my academic reading. CAN and WILL. I like that.

Last week I was working on a project that sent my anxiety and frustrations through the roof. Things were just not working too well for me and I was up against a deadline. I was so frustrated that I felt like breaking dishes. Yes, you read that right... how un-yogic, isn't it?

(But I do love my small collection of dishes, so no, I didn't break any. And I promise that I am not a violent person. Ok, maybe a little... specifically when some great dessert is involved. Especially when it's dessert at this place.)

Interestingly I heard this story about a professor that has a collection of cheap/old dishes for the purpose of breaking them to release frustration. This professor supposedly even has a place in the yard with a concrete slab against which to break dishes. As the story goes, the professor invites people (i.e., doctoral students?) over to break dishes and relieve stress. Urban legend? Who knows.

I'm not a person that gets angry easily. There are things that are small enough that I "don't sweat it." But there are times when the stakes are high, and that notion of doing all you can and then letting go of perfection doesn't quite cut it. Especially when the expectation is quality, accuracy, and excellence. The expectation is to keep pushing and pushing yourself. Just when you think you've reached the boundaries of your thought process, you are pushed so that you keep expanding it. Which I understand (I think)... we are pushed to great challenges and then to overcome them, and as a result we gain some insight and a new nugget of wisdom.

So something happened last week, and it was like the straw that broke the camel's back. What made me even more anxious, was that I know very well that this is NOT the hardest thing I will ever have to do in my academic life. Far from it.

But I had gotten so worked up by that project, that last weekend, I couldn't even sleep... even after my project was done. I tossed and turned until maybe 2 in the morning. So I practiced some restorative yoga poses, including a gentle inversion (legs up against a wall), did some deep breathing... and finally, what got me to settle down and go to sleep was to silently recite a "mantra" -- I am enough.

I am stumped by a question... how to reconcile the high expectations of academia and the need to be kind and forgiving towards myself? In academia, it's almost never enough. It's only enough when you get those 3 letters behind your name and the three stripes on your graduation gown. But in my inner life, there is a sense that yes, I am enough. Not am I good enough or loving enough or smart enough... just... enough, because I am who I am. You are enough because you are who you are, and there is no one else like you.

Interestingly, last weekend someone called me to apologize about something, and I let it slide SO easily.... and I realized that I'm much more forgiving of other people's "mistakes", but I am so harsh on myself when it has to do with my work and my performance.

So this week I am taking steps to help myself. For now, these are the things I CAN and WILL do to help me find some balance. In my academic world I started organizing my life, and my time, even more (or maybe I had not done that well enough to begin with). I am trying out a new yoga class/studio this weekend which I hope aligns more with my sense of spirituality, so that hopefully I can take more lessons for me to use off the mat. With the hopes that lessons from both worlds -- the world of academia and my "inner life" -- collide, and that these lessons somehow reconcile and play well in the sandbox.

Speaking of sandboxes...

 (My nephew* at the Children's Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio)

* I love watching kids play and explore. I took my nephews to a museum once and they saw this HUGE indoor sandbox and their eyes probably got as big as saucers as they ran to the play area. You feel the great sense of optimism, possibility, and discovery. Lessons to learn....

Do you experience any feelings of a "tug-of-war" between the expectations of your work life and those of your inner life? How do you reconcile both?

finding words of wisdom everywhere...

I recently visited this Thai restaurant, which has been a go-to restaurant for me to have pad thai -- and other Thai dishes -- without fish sauce. (not all restaurant kitchens may be willing to make the adjustment)

I have to admit I enjoy Asian restaurants for the fortune cookies. And amidst my inner struggle, I got a fortune cookie with this little slip of paper that reads:

"There is a way to everything you want."

Now one would argue that it's just a fortune cookie. And it is. But I think it's fun.

And maybe, there IS a way to everything I want. Not "want" in a material sense, but in terms of personal dreams.

 my collage from a retreat in August 2008

I have at least 2 friends who are either going through some life transitions, or thinking about a life transition. Thinking about what they want...and what they don't want. And what great things they envision for themselves. It's all so exciting, sitting in that place of possibility and potential. Even if it may mean putting a end to something, it also means that there is something new beginning. That seems to be what life is: endings and new beginnings. With each phase ending there is a lesson learned, with each new beginning there is an opportunity to take another step towards our highest self.

A dear friend and spiritual author, whose birthday is today, always talks about being open to this sense of "infinite power that enables us to fulfill our highest purpose." (Happy birthday, K.! Thank you for your words of wisdom.)

It's no wonder my body has been so attracted to heart-opening poses lately. Backbending has been feeling SO good in my recent yoga practice. Cobra pose, camel pose, full wheel. There's something about this feeling of openness, expansion, and largeness of heart in these poses. It never fails to amaze me how the body, mind, and spirit are so connected.

So when you're feeling stuck, try some backbends. Whether it's a gentle backbend like a low cobra or sphinx, or a more challenging backbend such as the full wheel... whatever is right for you and your body at any particular time. And even if you don't come to an answer just yet, you will at least have given your body a delicious stretch. I'd say there's wisdom in honoring your body.

Here's a thought I've been meditating on lately:

"Don't worry about what the world wants from you, worry about what makes you come more alive. Because what the world really needs are people who are more alive." - Howard Thurman

What is your source of power? And what makes you "come alive"? I'd love to hear...

do what you love, love what you do.

"What you love is a sign from your higher self of what you are to do." - Sanaya Roman

This sounds all too easy, doesn't it?

But the truth is, there are many challenges involved. The voices that say, you shouldn't, the voice of the practical, the voice of self-doubt, the voice of the critic and inner saboteur. (Got that term from the book The 12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women by Gail McMeekin -- a present from this creative friend).

I still struggle with living an academic/professional life and living a creative life. How to have the best of both worlds?

What are your inner saboteurs?