Look Before You Leap!

Shortly after we moved to The Netherlands, we went on a walk alongside a canal with our dog, Agamemnon. We let him off the leash in a grassy area so he could frolic around. Sometimes in the spring and fall, the canals are covered in green algae that LOOKS like a solid surface. Agamemnon was not aware of that phenomenon. He chased a few birds, who flew up into the trees. He chased a duck, who flew to the algae covered water. Agamemnon leapt at the duck, the algae gave in, and he ended up in the cold water. He did not love the experience. At all! That was Agamemnon’s first encounter with shocking disappointment.

Agamemnon’s adventure made me think of times when we believe that certain practices or people can support us, and we are baffled when our needs do not fit their capability for help. The algae did not maliciously give in under his weight. Its history of evolution has led it to its current form—algae can support the weight of flies and mosquitoes, but not Agamemnon’s. When some people fail to support us, often it is not because of ill will or intentional neglect, but rather because they are unable to hold us up. That inability to support is as much a result of their life story and experiences as our needs are a result of ours. The algae cannot be blamed for giving in under Agamemnon’s weight. Also, Agamemnon cannot be blamed or shamed for making the best decision based on the information and experience he possessed at the time. Blaming people around us for lacking the strength necessary to support will not give us the lift that we need. Blaming ourselves for misjudging the weight of our own needs will not get us out of the water.

The shocking disappointment of “mistaking the algae for grass” cannot be soothed away by shame and blame. Focusing on understanding ourselves and others gives us the chance to identify what we need and recognize the practices or people capable of helping. When we accept ourselves and others for who we are, we gain the freedom to turn to the practices and people that can actually buoy us up.  

The Thing About Change

It has been a time of change for me, so, naturally, I found myself thinking about change and all the things that go along with it. I became aware of the contradicting experiences and reactions that accompany change. There is mourning and hope in change. There is rupture and adventure. There is separation and liberation. There is complication and clarity. Bottom line, change is stressful and distressing, EVEN when it’s wanted.

There is loss in change. There were things that I knew I would miss: people I love, familiar places, predictable routines. Now there are moments that I am surprised by the sadness of parting with things I didn’t even know I had grown to care about and to love.

Change brings the thrill and promise of meeting new people, discovering new places, establishing new routines. Those, however, are things we hope for, not things we can rely on. They can generate enthusiasm, but not comfort. The curiosity and anticipation that accompany change also betray the uncertainty and apprehension in the mix.

There are a few things that can and often do remain rather constant in change. The things we love and hate typically don’t change. The things we want and fear often stay the same. The things that come easy to us and the things we struggle with are the same old ones. The best and the worst parts of us will often be right there, regardless of how differently things look around us.

Changes on the outside present the opportunity to make decisions about what we want to change and what we want to preserve on the inside. What do we want to leave behind? What do we want to keep? When things on the outside change, it can be easier to be thoughtful and purposeful. It is easier to choose people, choose places, and develop routines that support that which is best in us and for us.

EN

Wiping out once does not mean wiping out always!

I was looking at our family videos from this past winter and I found one of my son sledding down a hill backwards. As he’s approaching the bottom of the hill, he gives me a thumbs-up, hits an abandoned sled, careens into a ditch, and then wipes out.

I wondered if that ride backwards left an impression on him and, if so, what he made of it. His options are many. He could learn nothing. He could conclude that he is great at assessing his potential for success and unforeseen ditches cannot take away from the glory of that backward slide. He could conclude that he is not good at estimating risk and all his future endeavors could end up in a wipe out regardless of his forethought and preparation.

What do I hope that he will learn from it? I hope that he will learn that sometimes things that work well in theory, like backwards sledding, don’t work out in real life. I hope he will learn that some activities need our attention to the very end of the process and we can’t let our guard down or take our eye off the target before we reach our goal. I hope that he will learn that the fact that he overestimated his chance for success this one time does not mean that he should mistrust his judgment every time. I hope he will learn that just because his victorious thumbs-up was followed by a crash, not all his successes will be undone or undermined by soon-to-follow wreckage. I hope that he will use this experience to learn more about himself. I hope he will use this experience to recalibrate his risk assessment process. Most importantly, I hope that he will remember that wiping out once does not mean wiping out always.     

EN

Such Confident, So Dignity!

I was driving our puppy, Agamemnon, to his first visit to the vet a few weeks ago. We had been on a few car rides together at that point. He had gotten used to being in the car, sitting right next to one of his favorite people. This time he was he was sitting on the big seat all by himself. He was excited about being in the car and looked calm and confident. I could see a bit of apprehension under that elegant courage. Maybe he was feeling some misgivings about facing the adventure on his own.

The car started moving and the trepidation started growing. Before we turned the corner out of our neighborhood, Agamemnon was certain that he did not like that car ride at all. All the poise and self-respect went out the window. His little struggle reminded me of all the times when, despite our preparation, we end up feeling overwhelmed. Despite our courage, we end up feeling beat down. It can be events as harmless as the holidays and as disastrous as 2020.

I know I started 2021 with hope and now it feels like there’s so much isolation and so much waiting. What to do? We can start with the simple things, which are often easy to forget or dismiss: be patient with yourself and others, stay close with your favorite people, go out of the house, play out in the snow, and, when you come back inside, take the time to bundle up in your favorite blanket. Allow yourself the time and energy to enjoy the little things.

E

The Imperfections That Complete Us

We took too long to put away the Jenga set the last time we played. We did not think to put it away before Ariel came to visit with her three dogs: Hamlet, Nova, and Gwen. Nova took quite the liking to one of the wooden Jenga pieces. The block has now chew marks, the surfaces are uneven, and one end is frayed. The shredded end and rough surfaces the snag onto the other pieces and destabilize the whole level of the tower.

Throwing away the damaged piece would leave the set incomplete. Sticking it at the bottom of the tower would limit its functionality and would demand that I am always careful to stow it away from the upper levels. The only way to keep the set complete and the piece optimally functional is to repair the holes and sand away the rough edges. The piece will never look pristine, but it will be fully functional. More importantly, that imperfect piece will tell a story that makes my Jenga set mine. It makes my Jenga set unique and irreplaceable.  

We live through events and relationships that leave their mark.  We may see things in ourselves that we label as irreparably damaged, defective, or broken. These imperfections sometimes bring shame or discomfort. It may seem that hiding them is the only solution, because they make us difficult to be around and unlovable. And yet, they make us who we are. These imperfect parts of us need our attention, time, and love, so that we can figure them out and work through them. Not so that we can erase the imperfections, but so that we can own them. Ultimately, we are not complete without them.  

E

Reclaiming Stability

We were playing Jenga a few days ago. As the game went on, the tower became top-heavy and there were more and more holes in the bottom half. The tower wobbled a few times, there were a few close calls, and eventually it toppled.

In a way, every single block that is displaced is responsible for destabilizing the tower, if only by making the top half heavier. However, we know that some blocks are more destabilizing than others: the ones closer to the foundation or the ones bearing more weight. To stabilize a wobbly tower, we don’t need to replace and reposition every single block. Instead, we need to identify the pieces that are most important to our structure. Then, we need to devote our attention and energy to restoring those crucial pieces.

What are some of the “pieces” piled high on everyone’s “tower” now? The pandemic, West Coast wildfires, upcoming elections, systemic injustice, civil unrest, paying the bills, remote schooling, remote work, returning back from remote work, being out of work, being unable to engage with friends, missing the social and cultural events that mark the times and seasons. And I haven’t even started with your personal, custom made struggles: your anxieties, your disappointments, your relationship difficulties, your loneliness. That is a lot.

You cannot address all of them. You cannot address half of them. But you can identify the pieces that are the most important in your tower’s structure. Take a moment to think about what those pieces are for you. Focus your attention on the pieces that can restore the most stability to your life. Direct your energy toward the pieces that can revive your hope. Think of the people in your life that you can you combine efforts with. And that will get you closer to figuring out how to reclaim hope and stability.  

E

How long until until it's all better?

It has been over two weeks since Tropical Storm Isaiah came through and the backyard is still covered in broken branches. My achillea flower is still laying uprooted. The climbing rose that came loose during the storm, is now secured back to the trellis. The cut lavender got blown away, but the lavender plant is now showing some new blooms.  How am I doing with the post-storm clean-up? Let’s see …

How do we recover from events that unsettle us and turn our world upside-down? We first need to attend to the practices, dynamics, and relationships that harm our sense of safety and stability. Some practices and relationships may need to be redefined; some may need to be left behind. Our goal at this point is to rebuild our hope that there is a path forward; that there is a future worth looking forward to.

A better future often means a future in which we can connect with others the way we want to, we can achieve professional and personal goals, we can feel centered and at peace. In order to do that, we need to identify and do away with the “coping mechanisms” that are no longer helping us cope and the strategies that get in the way rather than help us succeed.  

“Doing away with the old” is successful when “the old” gets replaced with new practices and relationships that reinforce our ability to be present, to feel joy, to dream, to chase our goals, or to simply follow through.    

How long does it take to recover? It depends on how upsetting an event is and how much it unsettles us. It depends on how centered and well-adjusted we were before the event. It depends on how much the event burdens our cognitive and emotional resources and how many we had to begin with.

Basically, recovery needs time, and patience, and generous attention to our needs.  

E

THAT which you CAN do!

Some challenges we are facing may seem overwhelmingly monumental. They may demand efforts that no one person can take on. How can one person affect the health of a country? How can one person affect justice in a country? How can one person affect a society to be kind, fair, supportive of all that is good, sensitive to the needs of the underprivileged, altruistic in ideals and actions? Regardless of what is needed for change to occur, we can only contribute that which we are able to contribute. Whether it is ALL the things, some of the things, or just ONE thing … we can do that, which we can do.

I was looking at my lavender flowers the other day. There was a ladybug. She was there to take down aphids. To weaken the pest’ overbearing hold on the underprivileged buds. To interrupt them from spreading hateful viruses that can take down the garden. I also saw bees moving from flower to flower. They were actively contributing to the “complex, interconnected ecosystem, allowing a diverse number of different species to co-exist” and thrive (I thought I’d read that on some gardening website, but it turns out it was on a site about the Carrick-on-Suir town in Ireland. Finding creative ways to travel, I see!).

Taking on the pressure of doing everything that needs to be done, does not increase our capacity, and in fact, it may overwhelm us. So, what can we do? We can do THAT which we CAN do.

E

When the basics don't cut it ...

Thrilling would be great, but amusing is good enough!

I said that I would write about current events, but I certainly didn’t imagine something as extraordinary as a pandemic. Yet, here we are.

Week 5 in quarantine is testing even the most dedicated practitioners of self-care and self-compassion. The days are blending together even for the methodically organized. The light at the end of this tunnel seems distant even for the fantastically motivated. Simply said, social distancing is anything but simple.

Mental health needs have become the focus of conversations with friends, family, and mental health professionals. We’re exchanging tips and strategies about adding structure to our days, doing things that give a sense of purpose and meaning, engaging in self-care, and connecting. All with the hope of helping each other manage the sense of loss and worry. As we try to help each other cope better, let’s recognize that it will not always be easy. That the coping mechanisms will not “fix it.”

Let’s start by being patient and forgiving with our ability to cope. Let’s recognize and appreciate the small things. Let’s allow ourselves the flexibility to re-calibrate our goals and standards day by day.

E