A childhood friend explained to me that when two people are chatting over tea, like we were, their spirits intermingle and connecting. I've used this imagery to explain my empathic tendencies, where I take on other people's emotions and why I am very selective of who I want touching me and how. If our spirits are already connecting while just sitting and talking, think of what's going on when we're making out or making love.
When I'm with people, say on a date or in an interview, I intentionally check in with how my body is feeling. Martha Beck, author of the Finding your own North Star: Claiming the life you were meant to live, suggests that our bodies are a magnificent source of wisdom. Falling ill, feeling tense, and accidentally blurting out things, are all ways that our body tries to guide us away from what will make our "essential selves" (the authentic part of ourselves that is unconcerned with what our parents, the Joneses, or society at large have to say) happy. On the flip side, feeling energized, relaxed, and finding ourselves being socially graceful are ways that our body can let us know that we are on the right path to satisfying our essential selves. Several years ago I interviewed with two organizations. One interview was clearly a better job in terms of scope of responsibility, pay, and prestige. And yet, I didn't feel great with the woman who would be my manager. I felt tense and on guard. By contrast, I felt open and comfortable in the other interview at the smaller organization. As it turned out, the larger organization had funding cuts and the position I was hiring for no longer existed. Meanwhile, my manager at the smaller organization, where I felt more comfortable, ended up being the best manager I've ever worked with. I do the same thing on dates. Recently I was sitting across from a man who clearly checked a lot of my boxes. He was handsome, had strong environmental ideals, and even spoke about his meditative practice. And yet, when I checked in with myself, I felt uneasy and tense. I felt like the words, which sounded great, were not quite genuine. By comparison, on another date, I checked in with myself part way through and I immediately thought how much I was enjoying how our spirits were dancing with each other. I felt calm, warm, and excited to learn more about this person. Of course there are complicating factors, such as our limiting beliefs, medical/mental health conditions, racial bias, and past experiences. That having been said, our bodies hold a great deal of wisdom that are worth taking into consideration when charting our life’s path, be it new jobs or new relationship.
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I am a body. Sometimes I forget. I forget to breathe. I forget to dance. I don’t notice the tingling in my toes and my finger pads. Nor do I even feel the tightness at my temples. I’m far too busy Pondering what it is I should be doing, Beating myself up over all that I’m not. Congratulating myself on how I’ve filled all the gaps with Busy. So busy. Sometimes I’m too aware of my body. It’s not right. It’s squishy. It’s too much. Sometimes I fret that both my energy and my physical body are TOO MUCH. So I take myself to the yoga studio. Integration becomes my reality again. My body, spirit, mind unite. Sometimes I hit the dance floor Where I just about defy the laws of gravity. And I have, and I am, and I love: my body. I’m not too much. I’m just right. It’s been fourteen days away from the worlds of IG and FB. I needed a breather. And then, actually, the loss of that stimuli is helping me to remember. The breath. The body it nourishes. Is this body just a meat suit, something I can inhabit during this particular incarnation? Maybe. Maybe not. But for this brief time, I fully intend to enjoy the gift of this flesh. What a gift. Remembering my body helps me recall. Why I’m here at all. Here's a match made in YouTube heaven. Remember that vogueing kid from a few years back? You can find his sweet dance moves here combined with Grimes' musical exploration of embodied experience. Apparently the song, Be a Body, was inspired by the Japanese concept of wabi sabi, which is about seeing the beauty of impermanence and imperfection. -Shaina Lehan I have a drawing in my room that I made several years ago. It is a simple black and white drawing of a house with a garden surrounded by trees. Below the ground line, the roots of the trees and the vegetables of the garden can be seen. Beneath the house are seven red hearts, providing the only colour in the drawing. I have this image hanging in my room on top of my desk and across from my bed. Sometimes I sit on my bed or at my desk and I gaze at this drawing with longing. This is my heart's desire: to have a home rooted in love, belonging, and security. I drew this image while married and living in the basement of my in-laws’ home. As a young adult, I married within six months of leaving the house in which I grew up. For better or worse my husband's home became my anchor. Some of my fondest memories are of snuggling together with our dogs on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Some of my most terrifying memories were also born in that home, as domestic abuse, by its very nature, grows at home. Since leaving that space three years ago, I have lived in five houses in three cities, bouncing from proverbial couch to couch, accommodating myself around other people's household rules, furniture, and home culture. I am currently living in my childhood home with my mother. Memories of friction and loss are resurfacing as I spend time in the same rooms that my younger self inhabited. The dream of a home of my own lives on. I know that I share this dream with many others who are dreaming of their own space, or of improving the space they have: expanding a bathroom, updating a kitchen, moving from a condo to a detached home, etc. There are plenty of home magazines and shows that perpetuate our dissatisfaction with our living conditions and to help us forget how lucky any of us are to have four stable walls and a roof. One of these home magazines caught my eye while I was standing at the checkout of a grocery store. I was instantly reminded that I don't like buying things, and, despite my interest in visual art, I am not a fan of decorating. All of the decisions of what piece of furniture to put where seemed exhausting. So why, I asked myself, was I so caught up in wanting my own house? It dawned on me that it's clearly not about the physical structure. It's about the feelings of love, belonging, and security that I imagined would fill the house. It’s about the red hearts at the bottom of the house in my drawing. The house itself is actually irrelevant. It’s simply a symbol of those feelings. Feelings which can only be experienced in my body. As I walked across a slushy intersection, groceries in hand, I paid attention to by body. I noticed that after having exercised that morning I felt strong and relaxed. I felt love and appreciation for my legs that were walking me home and my muscles that were slightly achy from carrying my food. I felt a touch of grumbling in my belly and I felt safe knowing that I had nourishing food in hand to satiate my hunger shortly. My feet were warm and dry because my boots were protected my from the slush and my hood was protecting me from the falling snow. I already had everything I needed. I was already at home. I was at home and complete in my body. While I don’t always feel safe, loved, or a sense of belonging in my body, striving to find a sense of completeness, internally and in this very moment, is bringing me a surprising amount of peace. - Mindy Alexander Mindy finished the last blog post by including the lyrics to a favourite song of hers, and I will start this week's with some words from a song dear to my heart, “This must be the place” by The Talking Heads:
Home, is where I want to be But I guess I'm already there I come home, she lifted up her wings I guess that this must be the place ******** I’m sitting at my favourite coffee shop, which I like to call my “office’, because I tend to much of my school and job related work there. I’m eavesdropping on a conversation: two young gentlemen chatting about new year’s resolution. They're trying to find balance, cut things out, be more productive. And I love New Year’s resolutions. I’m into goal setting. The way we’ve delineated how we measure time is arbitrary, sure, but we need the New Year, don’t we? The promise of fresh starts. Change. Making commitments. My gemini nature LOVES change. I dig stimulation, activity, novelty, trying new things. I don’t fight my nature, mostly. However, as Mindy mused about in the previous blog post, it’s so essential for us to continually come back to presence, to move away from our constant desire for external things. What good are all these fresh experiences if I’m not present within them? How do I discern between that which I do need to change or shift, and then realizing what’s fine just as it is? So. If we come back to breath, presence, to the moment (which is all we ever really have), then: what are the questions that our hearts ask? Sit down. Put your hand on your heart. Feel your breath. You are here. In this moment. What questions come to you, what longings? Might they be linked to our communal and eternal desire for wholeness and connection? What does connection look like to you? How can you connect more deeply with yourself? How can you remember that you are, so very much, enough? You always have been, and you always will be. How can that connection be fostered with those around you? How can a stranger become a friend, in just moments? How can you have moments, connected moments, with the person who makes a coffee for you? With your neighbour, the one you’d really like to get to know, but you feel a little shy around? How about that co-worker who aggravates you? How can you you show them you understand that life is painful at times, and perhaps particularly difficult for them, but that we’re all in this together? And what, in those encounters, are you learning about yourself and the universe? I say you, but of course I mean we. Ram Dass says: "We’re all just walking each other home”. When I’m having one of those days in which I feel as if nothing makes sense, and my heart hurts, I try to return to that idea. How can I nurture that feeling of ‘home’ within myself? How can I take it out into the world? Home is where the heart is. I was sitting around with family over the holidays and my uncle asked how my sabbatical of self-discovery is going.
"Weeeeeellllll...." I started, as I averted my eyes from everyone's gaze. "I recently read a book that says wisdom can't adequately be articulated. It often sounds silly to other people." After everyone's jokes subsided about how I am really smart even though I was about to sound stupid, I shared one of my subtle but profound shifts of perspective. I've been really struggling with the unknown recently. I'm in the process of doing some soul searching to figure out my next steps. Almost every aspect of my life is a murky question mark: I've just moved, I'm single, and in the process of a career change. I am a pro at dealing with difficult situations: throw rejection or an emergency my way, and I can manage just fine. If something horrible is coming in the future, that's fine, I can handle it, but it would just be nice to know. Dealing with the unknown and uncertainty of what's to come is really hard for me to manage because there is nothing to do and no way to prepare. Recently, though, I've had a shift in how I approach all of the questions I don't have answers to yet, like what is my life's purpose? I've realized that I don't need to know in this moment; I simply need to be. My goal during my meditation is no longer to tap into my intuition to have answers revealed, which has been super useful for me in the past. Right now, I'm not receiving clear answers and I'm struggling with that lack of clarity. So instead, my goal is simply to be. To be aware of my existence. To accept confusion. To sit with the unknown. This has been a huge weight off my shoulders because there is no way to fail! I am always successful at being. Granted, I'm not always successful at being aware that I am being, but everytime I realize that, I have once again become successful. As I shared my inner journey with my family, I saw them noding their heads in agreement. When I was done, they shared the unknowns that they are struggling with: retiring, starting a private practice, looking for work, fighting a traffic ticket... Life has always involved the unknown, but we live in a time of unprecedented change. Some exciting, some filled with hope, and some terrifying. Who knows what the future will hold; we will deal with it when the time comes. In the meantime one of my new years resolutions is to be (rather than do or know) more. As the Beatles classic that is top of my current playlist goes "there will be an answer, let it be, let it be." |
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February 2019
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