9 posts tagged “lessons learned”

What you're witnessing here is the breaking of a bad habit.  Exciting isn't it? Here's what happened...

The other day I started a new blog.  [Insert joke related to the number of blogs I'm currently authoring here].  My thought was that I was sick of looking at this huge long list of archives, this stale design, this old and tired conversation that just kept happening in the same way all the time.  So I wanted a clean start.  I ambled over to Word Press and started me a blog. 

And then I got itchy about it.  I couldn't get it to look right. It didn't feel right.  I labored over the design only to be brutally rebuffed by the fact that you have to pay for the privilege of writing your own code.  Nothing was right.  And I found myself missing my little beach tent here.

But the realization of what I was doing hit me at Ikea, the jumbo house of overstimulating home improvement possibilities.  I took a trusty friend with me (hi Monica who doesn't read blogs) to help me stay focused. And as I stood before a blinding array of dressers, discussing whether I should get the six-drawer brown black or the three-drawer yellow, I said out loud, "Well, I wonder where else I'd be able to use this."  I was buying new furniture for my new place and thinking about how it might fit in the next place.  Monica (and this is the reason she got the Ikea nod...okay, actually she drove me there so that was probably a huge factor as well) just look at me like I was an ass and said, "Yeah, no." And then I saw the light.

For some reason, I am just uber-resistant to settling in anywhere.  I am a chronic re-starter...this may be directly linked to my perfectionistic tendencies...if it's not perfect, then I have to start over. I don't like to dwell on my past messiness or re-live the pain of it.  Somehow, the joy of it always gets lost.  I'm like that dog in Alice in Wonderland whose tail functions as a broom, sweeping up the path he just made.  I keep erasing my footprints.  And then I sit, head in hands, wondering how I have no history to lean back into when the times get tough.

So, the beach tent stays.  I am going to move it to it's own domain name so I can re-design it to be it's most glorious, tent-tastic self.  But the structure will remain.  As will the history that it represents.

So here's the thing I'm learning about resignation.  It's not a permanent state.  Don't get me wrong.  It's a fruitful state.  As I suspected, when I really practiced the art of resignation and just allowed things to be as they are and happen at their will and not against mine, the universe did respond immediately.  And in some ways majorly.  But what I temporarily forgot about, maybe even lost sight of, is that resignation cannot be just one act.  It has to be a series of acts of resigning oneself.  A continuous letting go.  How do I know this?  Because at this very moment, not even two weeks away from the first resignation, I'm fighting again.  And losing. Again.

Why did I not see this coming?  It's like having a conversation.  A good one requires two actors and a give and take.  Each response should be, in theory, exactly that.  A re-action to the action itself.  What the past two weeks has been for me is only one exchange.  I navigated that one smoothly; wonderful things happened.  But the universe is not static and it re-acted to my resignation. And lo and behold...here I am fighting again. So now I have to let go...AGAIN.  I'm sorry but does the universe NOT GET how HARD THAT IS!  It took nearly everything I had in me to muster up the gumption the first time.  "Letting go" sounds like it would be an easy, comfortable action.  It is not.  It exhausts me. Why?  Because I fight it, of course.

Okay, the last paragraph is not completely true.  I suppose I do have to come clean if I'm really going to sit here and grumble about the nasty, reactive universe.  Truth be told, I started it.  I picked a fight with the universe today...I did it knowingly and a little impulsively--because I thought I actually could control everything--and I'm learning at this moment that my assumption was very seriously not right.  I think I would've preferred the universe's handling of the situation now that I think about it.  And that makes me feel even worse about it.  I could've prevented this need to fight if I had just kept letting go.  Did I?  No. And now I'm back at square one.

Ultimately, I'm learning great lessons about trust and control in this whole "letting go" conversation I'm having with said universe.  The reason I fight it so hard is that I'm scared of what might be in store for me if I just let go.  Every time I commit to letting go, I feel this little (and by little I mean ENORMOUS) lightning bolt of pure fear just peal through me.  "What if the universe is wrong?"  "What if things get worse?" Another confession: If I examine all of the ways the universe responded in kind to my letting go, major questions and concerns that I've been agonizing over, some for years, were addressed...some even answered.  In many ways, the universe confirmed what I already think to be true.  What it did uniquely contribute was a validation of what I see going on.  And in my bestest, ego-free moments, it gave me new and wicked (ly awesome) insights.

So there it is.  Again.  I stand newly resigned. And it's not killing me.  Well, maybe it's still killing me softly.  Just a little bit.  But I'm letting that go too. 

Confession: When it comes to health I'm very blessed which means I can generally feel good without paying much attention to what I'm doing.  When I listen to others horror stories about health-related angst, I just shake my head in that "I want to empathize with you but I have no idea where you're coming from" sort of way.  Even when I'm being abjectly unhealthy in my actions, my body just keeps plugging along.  I don't involve doctors, I hate taking drugs of any kind (even taking Advil is a last-resort move), and I generally distrust Western Medicine altogether.  No, just give me a couch, a Neti Pot, and Apple Cider Vinegar and I'm happy.

Lately, though, I've been dragging.  I've never had so little energy.  I've gone through my usual battery of "what could be wrong" tests and I was coming up with nothing.  I was just starting to contemplate (gasp) calling the doctor when I rediscovered an ENORMOUS bottle of Whole Foods multi-vitamins in my kitchen.  They'd taken up residence on top of the microwave months ago and had become part of the landscape of the room thereby losing any sort of toe-hold in my frame of attention.  Just for kicks, I took one thinking, "This really is the last resort but I'll try anything before going to the doctor.  What good are they anyway?  They just roll their eyes when I don't present with a symptom big enough to be interesting, over-prescribe anti-biotics, and send me on my non-merry way."

That mottled brown pill roughly the size of an Oreo and smelling like trees and oats worked like a charm.  I'm cured.  I have energy.  I don't have a headache.  I'm sleeping better. My pee is flourescing. Right on, ridiculously large pill...you're my hero.  Anything that saves me from the doctor gets a special spot in my Hall of Fame.  But the lesson I learned here, which I think is most important, is that, regardless of the claims on the box, Kraft Easy-Mac (microwaveable kind) does not provide the recommended levels of any sort of vitamin whatsoever.  I thought vitamins were what gave that powder such a wonderful orange glow...

Lesson learned.

What's the most complicated part of your life right now?

What's going to go on here is a very complicated answer to a simple question about complication.  Brace yourselves (all two of ya.)  Over the past couple weeks, I've wracked up quite a list of complications.  So what, exactly, is GOING ON HERE?  How can I fail to get it so many times?Everything seems complicated these days.  So many details, so much time spent figuring things out, so many times I've said the exact words, "It's complicated."  Whenever I've had this amount of apparent turmoil go on in my life I force myself to stop and ask, "Does it have to be this way?"  The answer is always no.

It's these moments when I feel like a particular failure at yoga.  Although I've been practicing it for 10 years, I still haven't been able to effectively grip onto the basic tenet of yoga which is letting go.  Even that sentence is ironic.  I just can't get the stranglehold on letting go that I'd like to have. Huh.  Can't imagine why.  And here's what I've come to conclude about myself at this point in my life: I'm bored.

I know that sounds crazy, especially when I put the words "doctoral student" and "teacher" and "social butterfly" out there.  None of these roles should indicate boredom, but I'm convinced this is the problem. Why?  Because I'm also in possession of one of those wildly imaginative, day-dream prone minds that when bored will whip up fictional accounts of what's going on around me.  Thus, what seems complicated is actually simple in disguise.  And I let it happen because there's either things I don't want to think about out there or I'm just an idle mind. And we all know how that's just asking to be the devil's playground.

Some may chide me for having no discipline (which isn't totally true; I have it but where they're right is that I'm choosing not to use it) or being easily distractable (also a choice).  But, the truth of the matter is that my mind goes to what I find interesting--that's the people around me in my life right now.  Not my work (which fills a niche,yes, but always has to be qualified--"that's interesting for work") and sadly not my schoolwork either.  I suspect this will change before too long but until I make that choice, I'm gonna be bored and, thus, also frustrated, discontented, searching, lost.

So what's complicated in my life.  Me.  Hands down.

Oh the past year.  What a bag of craziness.  I'm ready to leave it in the dust.  But before I do (and I'm ready NOW and not January 1st like the rest of the world), I'd like to recount the lessons learned and make some before the deadline resolutions.  Publicly.  Because I'm so good at public accountability...not.

Lessons Learned

• Yoga is a mystical physical/mental/spiritual force that literally changes the way I think for the better.
• Hair length can qualitatively change your life.  Since I've had long(er) hair, the number of gendered comments has at least tripled causing me a minor but real identity crisis. It is also the focus of a lot of conversation ("Oh, I see you went curly today" or "oooohhh, you straightened it!").  This will be it's own future post b/c the most interesting commentary comes in going from super short to long(er) hair.
  
• Adding make-up to the mix quadruples gendered commentary.
• Inspiration will not be forced.  When at a wall, I just have to wait it out because...
• Frustration can literally almost kill you. At one point in September I honestly thought I was having a heart-attack. 
  
• There is such a thing as too much advice.
• Giving people the benefit of the doubt is much better in the long run than doubting everything they say or do.
• Simplicity is usually the answer; thank you, Occam. Your Razor works every time.
• I cannot survive on intellect alone.  My body has rebelled this year and taken back some quality time.  I love it when my body totally beats my brain.

• Trust my gut before I ask for advice.
• Keep a firm grip on the fact that I know myself and what's right for me.
• Keep moving forward.  Inching is acceptable and not a sign of failure.
• Rediscover the joys of discipline.
• Recognize the moments/people who create joy for me and go to them.
• Embrace idealism.
• Learn how to receive and do it graciously.

No more of that, for sure. Oh, and I'm gonna keep growing my hair.  The sky's the limit on that one it seems. 

Bowling's gotten a lot of play here so I figured I'd make good on the promise to write a little more about my bowling endeavor in Cleveland...and not because I want to complain about rented shoes (which I believe actually make the game and not detract from it) or comment on the fact that the automatic scorer is now officially smarter than me. No.  I went bowling with my brother Andy, his lady-friend Kit, and Kevin our virtual family member last week.  All three of them have their own balls and shoes. That's right, I was made fun of for not being "bowling" cool.  Anyway, I bowled respectably considering I haven't touched a lane in about 4 years and was using a ball that was too heavy and with a grip that stretched my hand to the max.  But that is not what was interesting to me.

While we put up our 3 games (my high was a 147 which was purely luck), we were watching a senior league going on next to us.  Let me tell you, those seniors were kickin' our ass.  About 30 strong with various degrees of physical inability, hunched-over-ness, and general looks of frailty, those golden agers knew how to bowl.  Of course, the bowling was important...a game's a game...but the joy for me was the way they were being social.  I watched as high-fives were slapped (and honestly I'm not sure how), celebrations after 4 strikes in a row were undertaken, and I'm not gonna say there wasn't some geriatric smack-talk goin' down.  It was all there.  Life was there.  Right there in the bowling alley.

It made me wonder how adept my generation will be a keeping up social ties.  What will we do?  Sit on Facebook "The Senior Years" edition and write on each other's walls?  Will that be enough to satisfy that need to throw your arms up in the air when you convert a 7-10 split and 20 people were there to witness it?  I just wanted to go over and ask them countless questions about what brought them out there, how long they've been there, and what it means to them.  In essence, I wanted bowling lessons.  I'm afraid my game might be getting rusty.

Not long ago, I wrote about getting caught up in the obsession of fixing the tags on this blog. It was somewhat of a low moment for me; who likes to admit their idiosyncrasies and see them for what they really are?  But it was a learning experience.  Allow me to fill you in on the latest chapter of that long, long narrative.

For the past 5 days my apartment building has been, for all intents and purposes, without hot water.  We'll have it for an hour and then it's gone.  Two days ago I took a shower that was, at best, lukewarm and was thankful for that. This is by no means a good situation.  Here's where it connects to the narrative: this really hasn't bothered me.  Yeah.  Let that sink in.  I'm trying to figure it out myself. 

In the grand scheme of life, this problem is one of the bigger ones.  I can't really wash my dishes, I can wash myself but with considerable discomfort, and today I had to call off of work because they're still trying to fix the problem and I have to stay close to home because of that.  No hot water on legitimately fall days where the low temperature is dipping into the 30s is NOT good.  So the fact that I'm marginally bothered by it stymies me. Yes, it's an inconvenience...a big one.  Yes, it's hindering my ability to keep up with life in some ways. But I'm having a very lessez faire approach.  Meanwhile, I just noticed a new tag that showed up without my knowledge and I'm newly annoyed.

I have to believe it has something to do with what I perceive as my ability to control the situation.  With the tags, I should have the ability to control those things and when I can't it's maddening.  With the water situation, I've done what I can do.  I called the building owner who is a jerk and fed me the typical "we're working on it" line.  Poor Gonzalo my building manager nearly started to cry when I talked to him because he's up to his eyeballs in angry phone calls about this problem...so I reassured him in the best broken Spanish I could muster.  I've done what I can do and now I just have to cope with it until something happens for the good or it becomes so intolerable that another level of action is required (like organizing a marauding horde of angry tenants brandishing flaming torches and a battering ram to stage a medieval-peasant-style throwdown at Mr. Evil Building Owner's office...which for the record is a P.O. Box...but I assure you that thing will be toast when the marauding horde is done).

So maybe this is the lesson: I need to get a grip when assessing my level of control.  If the tags annoy me that much, maybe I need to take my show over to blogspot where I completely understand and can control their tagging system.  If that's too much trouble (which it is), then I need to let it go and see that as a product of my own choice.

It's amazing I've spent another whole post discussing this insanely teeny life detail.  Also amazing: I've come to grips with it ONLY because I have no hot water which is an infinitely bigger problem.

Who am I? 

I've blogged about this enough now that it should be it's own tag.  But I'd like to happily announce that I've figured out the tags and the one-timers are gone.  Maybe there's a lesson learned here.  When I actually sat down and committed myself to figuring these stupid things out, I did.  Could the lesson be commitment?  I think it might be.

In a vaguely-related story, I've been watching Tabitha's Salon Takeover on Bravo (I know...I feel lame even admitting that but it's yet another fascinating behind the scenes look at an industry that's usually so full of itself that it's nice to see it brought back down to reality...in the end, it's a show about good business management).  Anyway, the one that was most appalling to me was a salon run by a woman that answered every question in some form of the word, "Maybe."  It was the most cloying response I'd ever heard.  I hated her.  I hated the response.  I was having a serious reaction.  And then I recognized that, on the things that matter, I'm a waffler.  I have commitment issues.

Meghan brilliantly pointed this out to me months ago when I was moving.  She meant it as a joke (and recently I told her this and she didn't even remember saying it, but it struck a chord with me obviously). It was in the context of why I have a hard time unpacking a new apartment.  And she's right.  I've never thought about myself this way before because to the typical outsider (and the typical insider, like me, especially when I'm completely sane) I appear to be the opposite: committed, determined.  People have actually called me "driven" and "aggressive" (which are ultimately the same thing just w/ different connotation).  I haven't really been either of those recently, but there are times when I clearly look this way to others. Fact of the matter is, I'm real nervous about planting my feet somewhere both literally and metaphorically.

So, this is my new challenge.  I think commitment ultimately means owning something.  Taking charge.  Not allowing oneself to fall prey to the idea that the swirling social ether has control of everything.  While it can influence a direction, I always can choose how to interact with it.  And I've lost a little sense of that.  Is it the fall air that always brings this kind of empowerment? I don't know...but it sure feels like I'm back on the right track.

Who knew it would take Vox tags to make this turn-around.  Ironic.

Given that I'm a life-long learner, I'm always surprised that it continually amazes me when lessons just pop out of the ether.  But, like the sun rising in the east, they always do.  Sometimes they feel really stupid and sometimes they just change everything in the best of ways, even for a moment.  I learned two very important lessons today:

728. Beautiful things happen when you don't force them.
I don't know why but I have such a hard time getting a grip on this one.  In the course of my life this has happened over and over and over...and over...and...just kidding...and I never seem to learn it.  I've been fighting today ever since I woke up.  I had spotty sleep because of a breathing issue (like, I can't because of a cold or allergies or something), I forced myself to go to church, I forced myself to go grocery shopping, I forced myself to reorganize my kitchen.  All productive but at such a cost.  And none of it felt remotely good.  However, when I took a moment to breathe I realized that I could go to the library on a very do-able task and get a little fresh air.  That led me to check out the Madonna della Strada chapel at 5pm (a little recon for next week) and it was literally the greatest part of my day.  I left there...found all the books I needed in Cudahy library (that alone makes you wonder...) and got back to my apartment to find the washing machines just sitting there ready for me.  I need to paint this on my wall or something.  Literally everytime I let go just a little bit the return is out of this world.

729. "Love can't be earned."
This isn't a lesson so much as it's something to think about.  It's a subset of lesson #728 because it was part of the homily given at the mass that I sat in on at 5pm.  The priest was reflecting on a parable in Matthew's gospel and he said this and it just flipped my world.  It seems so counter-intuitive.  I had this knee-jerk reaction like, "Yes it can...what are you thinking." But the more I think about it, I'm inclined to agree only because of the way that we come to that conclusion.  We're so used to working so hard (see lesson #728) to get somewhere.  We're told that that's how you reach success.  We're trained in how to do this.  And I do think it seeps into the way we think about love (and not just the romantic kind...for me, this means much more on a friendship level than anything else). And it seeps into any kind of relationship we have that's based on the trading of some kind of intangible: trust, loyalty, love.  We even speak about them that way: we have to earn trust, we have to prove our loyalty, "if you loved me you would..."

What I like about this idea is that it challenges us to re-think our approach.  I don't know if it's right.  But if it is, it makes love something that's a foregone conclusion.  When you're friends with someone, of course there's love.  It's part of, a condition of, the friendship.  When you're married to someone or committed to someone, of course there's love...it's part of the relationship.  Sometimes I look around, mostly at myself, and see such worry and anxiety about proving or "marking" relationships--it becomes not "if you loved me you would..." My questions always find their way around to, "You love me, right?"  I can couch them in a hundred different ways but that's always what I'm asking...to my friends...who get so sick and tired of it that they start to back away.  And good for 'em.  That's just needy.  Of course, there's love there.  They're my friends.

But this is even more fascinating.  I want to steal it but I have to give the priest credit again.  The question has to become, "How am I letting others love me?"  That's to me is such a friggin' hard question mostly because I'm usually trying to figure out how to earn their love.  I don't even take a reflexive look in the mirror and wonder the ways that I might be handicapping them.  And maybe, I'm afraid to see what's there when I do...it's the proverbial discussion that surrounds most of my slaughtered relationships...I somehow sabotage them...I somehow run from them.  I'm not sure that's it. I've never seen myself running...but I have seen myself working so hard to make them something that they fall apart. Hmmm.

This idea is so freeing to me.  You don't have to work to be lovable to those who have already come to love you for who you are (and for who you were when you weren't working so hard to make yourself lovable).  For me it's work to let them love me and trust that they know what they're doing.  And that's exactly the point at which I need to let go and relax and trust myself.

Man.  I don't know who that dude was today...but he served it.  And in some ways, in just the way I needed to hear.  I'd love to hear some critiques of this (if anyone has the energy)...I'd love to see this thought evolve a little.