Notice I Stopped Saying I and Me

Writing at night cuts into my sleep.

That puts me at odds with my health goals. It's an interesting thing to notice, this dance I do with myself. And this time, at least this part of it, is about noticing. Without judgment. I'm trying to learn something about myself. We may think that we know ourselves well, but life can bring circumstances that change us. Or, at least, offer us the opportunity to change. Sometimes we take ourselves for granted. Sometimes we don't pay very much attention to ourselves. And then one day we wake up and find that we may not know ourselves at all.

As I think back over my life, much of it has been spent attending to other people. I've been moving along in the flow of that, not really thinking much about myself. These days, I have a lot more time to think about myself. This started about six years ago and it was so stressful for me that I worked hard to create circumstances where I could fall back into that pattern of attending to others and not paying myself much attention. I had another such disruption in my life about 33 years ago and I found myself doing the same thing. Creating circumstances where I could attend to others and ignore myself. 

When life-defining, painful circumstances arise, there's a real opportunity for us, if we have the courage to seize it.   

It requires willingness, and the tenacious act of seeing ourselves. 

It's a radical thing, to truly see ourselves.

The only way we can bear it is to sink into compassion and non-judgment.

Try going thirty seconds without some self-judgment. It's hard to do.

I see different things about myself in the day and in the night. This is probably a gigantic generalization, but I think that, for the most part, it holds true. This morning the sun rose on a beautiful day, a nearly-perfect early summer day with sunshine, breezes, and cooler temperatures. I spent the morning at the Princeton Farmer's Market. I didn't really need any food, but I love spending time there. It's one of the real joys in life. I brought home a beautiful bouquet of flowers - golden yellows, deep pinks, and golden salmon pinks and oranges. I brought home lavender-infused chocolate. I brought home a freshly made Indian sauce to which I need only add protein and veggies to have a great meal. I brought home organic strawberries, asparagus, fennel, and garlic scapes. I sat down at a table on the square and listened to the bluegrass band that was playing. I read a magazine that I bought a week and a half ago and haven't been able to find time to look at. I wrote in my morning journal. I sipped tea and lifted my face to catch the breeze. 

Had I written shortly after coming home, and I did have time to do that, it would have been very different writing.

But here I am, deep in the night, ethereal music playing in the background. On a moonless night I am thinking deep thoughts with gravitas rather than the light, buoyant thoughts that reflected my mood in the early afternoon. 

Perhaps all of this is unfolding as it is meant to do. But the other day, I flirted with the idea of setting a writing time as a discipline. Making this writing practice the priority of my day. Prioritizing it that way would probably mean writing early in the day. I still have not made a decision around that. 

Do I want to keep my options open? Or do I not want to look at myself enough to know what I really want?

Is it too stressful to know what you want? Might that require too much change? Too much of a move out of your comfort zone?

Notice I stopped saying I and me. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are. 

New Moon Manifesto

It's new moon today.

I found myself going through my morning journal this morning, looking at what I've written on the first day of the last few months. That's my conscious reckoning with what needs to open up for me, what I want to work on, what I'm manifesting. New moon is the unconscious flow of energy that carries it forward through the rising energy of the waxing moon to the full moon, with its culminating energy. I seem to have a pattern of noticing when it's the first day of a new month and checking in with myself around things.

In June, for example, it suddenly occurred to me that nearly half a year had passed, and I did a survey of my accomplishments and what I'd still like to do this year. I talk about that in the first piece of writing in this series. That self-reflection led to this Summer of Self-Love journey I began that day.

In May, the first day of the month was the last day of an incredible trip abroad. That day in my morning journal, I made a simple list of what I called, "Take-aways from the Trip." It was a distillation of what I learned while engaged in an extraordinary adventure.

I also popped back to the entry from April 1st. There wasn't one, actually, because it was Easter morning and I was phenomenally busy. But I did write on April 2nd, and that is noteworthy because the Monday after Easter is a day I rarely do anything but rest. Holy Week is a wholly busy time for me and by the time Monday rolls around I'm down for the count. On that day, I did a deep dive into soul landscape and noted several questions for further reflection. I'm going to study that writing in the coming days, but what is alive for me today is the list I created May 1.

It's a manifesto of sorts.

Merriam-Webster notes that a manifesto is related to the word manifest. A feature of it is "to be easily seen or recognized." "Readily perceived by the senses." And there is a public facet to it as well. It is a declaration.

Here's mine.

Time to thrive.
Check your expectations. Cultivate flexibility.
Be open to receiving.
You can do what you think you cannot do.
Remember the lessons of the Medicine Walk.
You are a sprinter - not a long-distance runner.
Life is beautiful.
Visit wild and beautiful places.
Spend time with friends.
Do not be afraid.
Break the blister.
Drink the wine. Eat the scones. Buy daffodils.
Schedule my retreat time - to read, to write, to dream.
Ask - what feels nourishing today?

This is not only what I discovered while adventuring late in the spring. It's what I believe in.

The days following new moon are such a great time to set intentions. And the time just before is a great time to go back through journals and to remember what has been alive for you, to check in with that and to see if it's still alive. To figure out some ways to manifest those things. If it's not still alive, then what is?

I'm excited to work with these things over the next lunar cycle. 

How to make them my life.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like it's an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

A Decision to Do Something Else

There's nothing a little sun, sand, and sea can't cure.

Exhale.

I had a bit of a meltdown this morning. One that let me know I needed a news fast, as Dr. Andrew Weil calls it. Too many stories about children being ripped from their parents' arms at the border. Of our country. I don't really want to write about that right now. And on the heels of so much communal sadness around the suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain and so many others whose names we may or may not know. Someone posted a photo of a small child in a cage crying. That was it for me. It's one thing to read about it, but quite another to see it in living color. 

We are inundated with so much sadness and so many situations it seems we are helpless to impact. And after awhile our circuits overload and it's time to power down for a bit. So that's what I did today. 

It's the loving thing to do.

I drove down to the shore to spend the day with a friend. We were completely unplugged and sat out by her pool on the deck, surrounded by greenery and birdsong. Her decks are surrounded by honeysuckle that gifted us with occasional sweet fragrance on the breeze. We pulled drops of nectar from the blossoms as if we were little kids. And we tasted it. It was so sweet. When I walked onto the deck I thought the honeysuckle was a sign I'd come to the right place. I waxed poetic about that mighty vine in last night's writing. 

A synchronicity.


We had planned to go out to get a bite at the boardwalk in Asbury Park, but decided to stay in and order out. Chinese food. My fortune cookie said, "Nothing dared, nothing gained." I love it. I taped it to my keyboard. 

My friend works overnights and goes to bed at six in the evening so I headed out to the beach from her place and walked on the sand at the water's edge. There was a brisk ocean breeze that became bracing at times. It was absolutely wonderful. And I left with the sea breeze in my hair and beach waves. I drove home into the sunset and watched the sky change color. Crossed the river and was back home. 

And I'm writing at night again. 

It may be that nighttime will be my writing time. If this pattern continues.

And unless I make a decision to do something else.





The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

A Tiny Drop of Sweetness

Honeysuckle must release its fragrance at night.

I've been driving around on these early June evenings, intoxicated. By the fragrance, of course, the heady scent heavy on the air. By day, I notice the roadside greenery is covered with the delicate blossoms. But at night...

The fragrance. It takes me by surprise and I tarry just a little longer than I might otherwise. It's worth every stolen moment.

I remember when I was a little girl. I loved to sit on a stone wall in our garden and pluck the flowers from the vine. Ever so carefully, I would pierce the end and slowly pull the pistils through the flower, hoping to catch the single drop of nectar. Such sweetness and delight! And just a tiny taste. 

I'm writing at night again. An early morning meeting and another that ran late tonight shaped my day. And I find myself here again, releasing fragrance into the night. It's just a delicate blossom of memory. And a tiny drop of sweetness.











The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are. 

  

Slow Dancing with Discipline

I haven't settled yet into a pattern for this writing.

I'd like to find a regular time of day, when I feel good and full of energy, when my mind is at its best, and when my heart is open and present for whatever wants to be felt in the moment and expressed. That's got me thinking, generally, about how I spend my time and whether my patterns and habits support everything I'd like to do with my days and evenings.

I'm not a person who, generally, likes a disciplined existence. I like to be spontaneous and available for the small surprises and serendipity that might come my way. I like to notice what is emerging in the moment and to be available and free to respond to that. I can ground myself easily, so I often think there is no detriment to what seems like an unbounded and free existence. 

The thing is, I've introduced what is essentially a new daily discipline into my life but I haven't really made a plan for how I am going to accomplish it. I've simply made a decision and have been disciplining myself to honor that promise. So what happens on some days is I find myself writing when I am tired or writing down to the wire or writing with a headache or writing around other things I am doing. 

And I wonder what might happen if I make this writing the most important feature of my day and allow everything else to take a step back for a few months so that I can fully engage this daily writing practice.   

What might that life look like and what supporting practices do I need in order to take full advantage of this journey?  

I'm laughing out loud right now because it seems like I may be declaring more promises to myself than this daily writing practice. The plot thickens for me and I am realizing that this spontaneous declaration I've felt pulled toward is a much larger journey than I'd originally imagined. It might even be life-changing. 

It might mean things like paying better attention to what I put in my body and how I move my body, when and how much I sleep, more disciplined attention to my spiritual practice, scheduling my time when I don't absolutely have to be somewhere, getting support to work with what might come up for me as I become more conscious around everything, paying better attention to my social connections, creating more welcoming spaces in my home to better hold this life that I am creating. 

I'm starting to feel just a little rebellious at the thought of all that. It sounds like a lot of work.

But I'm still laughing. That's a good sign.

And I'm having a good time laughing at myself. And a good time witnessing the battle going on in the landscape of my soul as I write this evening. Battle might be too strong a word. It's more like an opening skirmish. The thought just occurs to me that I might like to read "The Art of War" to see if there's any wisdom there for working with myself around all this. 

I won't resolve all of this right now. There are no sudden epiphanies that will put me on the path to perfect execution. I can even be a little stubborn around doing what is best for me. 

For now I think I'll study my weekly schedule and see what is fixed, what is semi-regular, and how I might be able to show up at a regular time each day rather than simply showing up each day. Now that I've had ten days of showing up, perhaps I can step more deeply in and commit to a time to write. And then we'll see how my life evolves to support that.

I suppose I could use someone else's blueprint for all of this. Lord knows I see a daily parade of this master class or that group experience with someone else's "BOLD statements" and "proven method to uplevel your life" sashaying across my Facebook newsfeed. But I like to discover things for myself. And I love a good expedition into the lesser explored landscapes of the soul. 

So here we are.  

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to have a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are. 

Writing Through the Blocks

I can't think of anything to write about today.

I'm flat, and I'm feeling restless.

I had a writing teacher who always said that if you're feeling blocked to write through it. It was Natalie Goldberg, and she teaches a method she calls "writing practice." You take a prompt and write for ten minutes. And then you do it again and again and again with new prompts. For as long as you've committed to write. At least an hour or two in a sitting. 

There are a few rules. The first is to keep writing. Your pen can't leave the page and you can't stop to think. A second is that you can't cross anything out. Set a timer. After ten minutes you do it again with another prompt. I've filled several journals with this kind of writing and it's some of my richest work. 

When I studied with her, we worked in groups of five or six, agreeing on a prompt, writing, and then reading our work. And then we did it again. And went on like that for a couple of hours at a time. We did not critique each other's work; we simply witnessed. It was safe space to venture into places we might not otherwise have gone with our writing, and a container like that opens up some interesting avenues of response that are filled with empathy and compassion. We weren't worried about the technical aspects of the work; we simply listened to the stories held by the writing. 

It's what writers do. Listen for stories. Catch stories. Put them on paper.

I am often curious about the things that capture my attention from various teachers. With Natalie it was writing through blocks. When she first started talking about it, I thought it was a little counter-intuitive. I thought to myself, "A block is a block. It means you have nowhere to go and nothing to write." Someone in the retreat where she talked about this even asked her to say more about how to keep your pen moving if you think you have nothing to write about. She said to write, "I feel blocked" over and over again if that's all you think you can say. Or to write, "I don't feel like I have anything to say." Eventually something else will come. It might be something about why you feel you have nothing to say about whatever it is you've agreed to write about. You might even discover something about yourself in the wastelands of "I don't think I have anything to say" or "I feel blocked."

You need to show up. And that's how a writer shows up for her writing. By writing though the blocks. By being willing to walk through what she thinks are empty landscapes in her own experience or her own thinking or her own abilities, to discover what might be on the other side of what she thinks she cannot see. 

Wow. Look at that. I'm writing. Through the blocks. And it was a block that enabled me to get in touch with something I needed to remember today. That I've been showing up for myself in ways that have surprised me. The interesting thing is, when we are able to show up for ourselves in one way, space opens up for us to show up for ourselves in other ways. 

More treasure.   




The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to have a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.

Ripples on the Water

I'm thinking about suicide today.

This, after the news that Anthony Bourdain was found in his hotel room. Dead. At age 61. Only a few days ago, Kate Spade was found at home. Dead. At age 55. I can't help but wonder what drives a person to end his or her life, especially one who seems to have everything in life. At least all the good things people seem to want out of life. Money, success, family, fame, respect, talent. And so much more. 

Makes me sad.

It also has me thinking about my own life and how fortunate I feel to be a person who does not feel driven to end my life. There is no judgment here. There is some curiosity, and a great deal of compassion. At times I feel some melancholy. At times I feel some futility. At times I feel lonely. At times I feel like a failure. At times I feel guilt and shame around the occasions when I do not live up to the expectations I have for myself, or when I've hurt someone, or when I've looked away while another person is struggling, or around other circumstances in my life that I am perfectly happy not to disclose.

The human struggle.

As I ponder these things I also remember so many things that bring joy. I got together with friends this evening. We had a great time together. We have a strong friendship and a trustworthy bond. Yesterday I got together with a peer group for a regular meeting around the work we do, work that is highly specialized, stressful, and challenging. I appreciate those folks more than I can say and am grateful to be part of such a powerful and compassionate camaraderie. The day before, I met with the young, hipster musician at the church I am currently working with. He is talented, creative, and courageous. He brings so much to the church and I'm pretty sure they understand how fortunate they are to have him. He composes music and creates amazing arrangements and improvisations. They clap when he plays in worship. I like that about them. 

He loves that I am a poet and has shared that he'd like to get his hands on some of my poetry. Wants to set it to music. At our meeting Wednesday, I shared that one of the poems in my collection is actually a song. And that I'd created a melody as well as the poetry. He wanted to hear the song and asked me to sing it. Call me crazy, but I did. Then he asked if I'd sing it again and if he could record me. I did that too. He photographed the page in the print proof with the poem and told me he wanted to create some music for it. 

A day later he sent me a music file with some music that took my breath away. He said it was "just rough" and hoped that I like it. 

Like it? It's amazing. I had to stop more than once in the last couple of days to remember that my poem inspired such beautiful music. His brilliance and creativity enabled him to dream a completely new work of art into being, out of the art I had created. He mentioned as an aside that he was gathering musicians and thinks he found a vocalist. I'm excited to see what comes of this. To see what art might be born from this collaboration.

I bought some beautiful peonies and freesia today. Someone suggested that I do something nice for myself and that is what I chose. She wanted me to have a reminder of how special I am and suggested that, all too often, we forget ourselves. She wanted me to remember myself. And since I live alone, it can be easy to not remember. To get busy and distracted and to forget to be kind to myself. She reminded me that I need to do that for myself because I no longer have a life partner to mirror what is unique and lovable about me.  

I listened to a TED talk today that featured the fourth director of the Harvard longitudinal study on happiness. The outcome of the 75-year study is that the quality of our relationships is what makes for a happy, fulfilling life. I've also been listening to a summit featuring speakers who are experts in working with people with trauma. Each of them, so far, has noted that it is not the so-called "traumatic event" that creates trauma, but how we respond or react to it that determines our relationship with it.

There's that word again. Relationship. 

There is so much to reflect on with regard to relationships. Any connection we have to anything or anyone or anywhere is a relationship. As I think about just that one thing, the image of tossing a pebble into a pond and watching the ripples move out over the surface of the water comes up for me. 

I've completed a week and a day of the Summer of Self-Love. I have kept my word to myself that I would write every day. A new relationship with writing is developing and it feels potent to me. It's the same kind of power that I notice when I watch ripples moving out across the water after the simple, but powerful, act of releasing a stone and knowing that, through that, I have created movement. 

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed on June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months of thriving. The goal at the end is to have a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.