Showing all posts in Minimalism

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth

Letting Go

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Letting Go

Ava went to a 3 day leadership retreat with her school this week. It was for the student government to plan events for the upcoming school year. She brought the paper home the first week of classes, her face alight with enthusiasm, and I felt, for a single moment, as though I was looking into the future with her away more than she’s at home.

It was both wonderful and sad, all at the same time (doesn’t that describe a lot of parenting experiences?). Our children grow up and away from us. Over time, we get lulled into a certain type of normalcy, with them coming and going, laughing, making messes, driving us up the wall. Then you begin to  realize that quite soon, they will fly from our nests and begin their own adventures.

I get weary when I hear parents complaining about how much they miss the good old days when their kids were babies. This is not a post about that, for I don’t pine for that bygone era. Our kids are meant to grow older and more interesting and become who they really are. This process is fascinating and stimulating and I have no interest in holding it back.

But it does go by fast. If we do the work of parenting correctly, we are to take a dependent baby and turn that baby into an independent adult. This is the job posting every one of us signed up for when we chose to have children. Some days I find it easy to enjoy the fruit of my labours as a mom when I watch my son and daughter navigating the world on their own. Occasionally I feel as if I’m preparing them well for the rigours of our modern society.

Then there are the other days. The ones where I realize that in four short years Ava will be ready to start university. In two years she will be driving (our Alberta friends can see their teens driving now at fourteen but no such luck for Ava in BC). In grade nine there will likely be invitations to parties and events where we will need to practice, as parents, setting reasonable boundaries for her and then letting go and trusting that she will be safe.

At a certain point, we must trust our precious kids to make their own decisions. This is the preparation they need to be able to succeed in life. To bounce back from hardship, they first must experience hardship. We cannot protect them forever. We should not be protecting them forever.

So much of the job of parenting involves getting out of the way. Moving past our fear and believing that we’ve laid the groundwork for our children to discern right from wrong, to lead instead of follow, to learn from their mistakes.

I am incredibly proud of our fourteen-year-old daughter. She texted a few times from the retreat, happy updates about winning a game of Manhunt in the dark and the pouring rain by hiding in the brambles and dirt, eating pizza for lunch, staying up late chatting with her roommates from older grades.

I remember these types of things from my teen years. They are a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood. We want to support Ava in these adventures and experiences, but it does help to talk openly about what it feels like to be the parent instead of the child.

How do you practice letting go of your kids as they move toward independence and adulthood?

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships

Sit With It

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Are you overwhelmed by stress? Do you feel frustrated, sad, scared, hopeless or some mix of these elements? You don’t have to fix it. Try SWIT: sit with it.

It’s my new philosophy. I used to rush in so hard to every emotion, situation, relationship or problem I faced. I had the solution, dammit, and I’d make it fit no matter what.

One of the great benefits of getting older is not giving so many shits about what isn’t actually my business. And even when it is my business, I’m not God and I often can’t see the forest for the trees, so when I hurry a fix to a complicated issue, I’m making it worse instead of better.

Try it. Simply sit with what is bugging you.

Weight

Feel fat? So do I. Rather than obsessing or shaming or radically changing your diet or exercise plan, just sit with it for a little while. Allow it to be near you. Notice why it bothers you. Don’t fix it. Sit with it.

It works like meditation does: by slowing down and cutting across the mental noise we experience every day. Ever notice how much bigger and harder something seems when you are trying not to focus on it? The SWIT plan invites the worry, person, concept or problem in rather than forcing it out.

Speak gently to the areas that bother you the most. Allow your fear to come and sit with you. Offer it a place (let’s be honest, it has one anyway, and when you don’t acknowledge the terror it only takes up more of your mental space) and show it some grace and love. You don’t have to interact with it or make it disappear. Soothe it. Breathe through it until you achieve a bit of comfort with it so close to you.

This idea of sitting with what makes me uncomfortable has really moved the needle forward on my ability to love myself. It’s given me a practical way to extend care to my wounded heart. I’m working on loving my body, exactly as it is right now, thirty pounds more than I want it to be, and simply sitting with it and offering no judgement or solutions has been so freeing.

Technology

Most of us live like scared rabbits in 2017. Technology has taken over and we are held tightly in its iron fist. Turning off our digital devices requires a heroic amount of courage. Many times I fail to do what I long to do (hit the off button). I’m practicing SWIT with my technology, too. The addiction is so big – too far gone to fix it with one simple measure. Breathing, closing my eyes and inviting my dependence on my technology to be near me is enough for now.

People

When I struggle with another person, I’m trying to use the SWIT idea to bring them near. Alone, I summon them in a soft voice and tell them why I’m hurt or upset. I practice wishing them well and extending the type of care and affection I have no problem offering to those I love.

I speak in a reassuring voice, saying, “It will be all right. We’re going to make it through this.” I know that this is for me and not for them, but it helps to smooth out the rough edges in our next interaction. While I’m sitting with people who bug me, I also remember to remind myself that I’m not responsible for their side of our relationship – only mine.

When we acknowledge what frightens us, we immediately loosen its grip. Bring it slowly into the light. Break the secrecy and the shame that blooms in the dark like a fungus. Anything that hurts you, learn to sit with it until you can begin to work with it.

Baby steps are required. But strength comes when we talk openly about what matters, what injures our souls, what steals our precious time, attention and resources. I’m learning to sit with the hard stuff, without giving in to the pressure I feel to have the answers and the solutions. Anyone joining me in my mission to SWIT?

In Culture, Minimalism, Nurture

Excess is Killing Us

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I went to the U2 Joshua Tree 2017 concert in Vancouver on Friday night. Not because I wanted to, but Jason had never been able to get tickets in his younger years and always had a burning desire to see them perform live. Supportive wife that I am, I agreed to go with him for a birthday present.

From what I’ve read, this tour is a scaled-down show for U2 compared to some of their previous tours, but I found it overwhelmingly high-tech, expensive and over the top when it came to lights, screens and effects (admittedly, I attended Christian concerts in my youth with the likes of Michael W. Smith, Steve Green and Amy Grant so I’m not a connoisseur of rock music and I’m a true Granny at heart when it comes to noise and spectacle).

As a culture, we seem to crave endless entertainment. But when is it enough? If we are constantly searching for bigger, louder, more impressive and expensive, when does this thirst ever get quenched? And at what point do we decide it’s too much and now we want something simpler, deeper, more accessible to everyone instead of just those at the top of the economic structure?

My journey into minimalism has radically shifted my perspective on what I’m willing to spend time and money on. I question everything now, which I think is good and healthy (albeit awkward and often tense at parties or functions when I start to rail on about my theories).

When Jason and I discussed this on the way home from the concert, he said, “This live performance is also a unique experience that we’ll have forever. That’s part of what we’re paying for.” I agree with this, in theory, but I still question the cost, both financially and morally, of investing in something so big and loud and insanely expensive for what amounts to ninety minutes of entertainment.

Excess is killing us. Flash and dash does not satisfy long term. I want to invest in depth and substance, something that moves the needle of love, mercy and justice toward the oppressed instead of focusing on my own nostalgia and appetite for entertainment.

Is it wrong to go see U2 in concert? Of course not. But I think it’s okay to admit that I have conflicted feelings about being part of something that costs millions when the world is in such desperate need of water, food, safety, equal rights, environmental conservation and peace (to name just a few of our global issues). These things matter more than my desire to be wowed at any cost.

I don’t know what the answer is here. I wish I did. All I know is that my heart hurts for the intolerance and simmering rage I observe in our society right now. We need to think bigger in terms of solutions and hope for everyone, not just a select few. I want to go beyond consumption, entertainment and individual excess. I long to see what we can do together for the poor, the broken, the marginalized, the sick. Less of what I need, more of what we need.

But how? This is the question I’m desperate to answer.

In Minimalism, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships

More Beauty, Less Rushing

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’ve committed to waking up to the beauty and inspiration all around me. Far too often I notice I’m sleepwalking through life, going through the necessary motions of getting exercise, eating, trying to get enough sleep, writing, e-mailing, planning for the future, remembering to text or call friends, making sure the kids and husband are okay, watching Netflix and so on.

But when I really begin to pay attention, the minutia of existence falls away, just for a little, and I’m able to function in a different, more beautiful dimension.

On Monday, I dropped Ava at her dance class and stopped at Save-On for some groceries. As I pulled into a parking spot, Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” came on the radio, so as all self-respecting people of a certain age would do, I pumped up the volume (see what I did there?) and stayed in the car until the song was over.

This gave me a chance to sing and look out the windshield for the brief interlude of one fantastic 80s song. Dusk was just beginning to descend, so the sky was that intense shade of blue, like the ocean after a storm. Clouds perforated the landscape, creating visual interest and texture.

Across from me was an old minivan, with the back hatch open. A young, bearded man sat there, reading a beat-up paperback book and stroking the soft head of an ancient dog lying with his head in the man’s lap. The scene was so gentle, intimate and stirring, it restored my hope and my focus. Watching for two minutes took me out of my harried modern world and restored me to myself.

Ava worked this weekend on a short film and on Saturday morning her set was a small park in North Vancouver. While the cast and crew blocked a complicated fight scene, my attention drifted to a dad pushing his eighteen-month-old daughter on a baby swing a few feet away. He stood in front of her and pretended she kicked him in the stomach every time the swing came forward. He said, “Ooof!” with a mock pained expression and the baby laughed every single time.

This game went on for about ten minutes. He never once glanced at his cell phone or seemed bored. He was utterly dialled in and present with her. Simply observing the connection between the two of them gave me an enormous lump in my throat.

Beauty is everywhere. I’m determined to create more of those moments in my own life. To stop rushing and to savour instead. To slow, to rest, to be enough, to cease hustling and proving. To recognize that success is how we define it and not what anyone else thinks or says.

Time is fleeting. Petting a dog while the sun sets or soaking up the giggles of your beloved child are worthwhile, important pursuits.

More beauty, less rushing. Awareness makes these gifts possible. They are right there, ours for the taking, with the power to change us for the better.

In Culture, Identity, Minimalism, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Anchored

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
Anchored

For 2017, the three words I wanted to focus on were: open, accepting and anchored. The first two months of this new year are drawing to a close, and I would say that I’ve had a lot of opportunities to focus on being anchored.

I’m working hard on staying in the present moment. I’ve traveled a lot in February, flying to Alberta three times to present at teachers’ conventions in Edmonton and Calgary. Ava’s acting career has also been heating up with lots of auditions and some bookings for film and commercials. This has kept me busy, but in a good way, not a frantic one.

When you have a lot of balls up in the air, it really helps to take each day as it comes instead of worrying about the next day. Each one has enough challenges and excitement in it. I used to live so much in my mind, stressing out over things that were way down the road. This business of anchoring in to each present moment is so much better for my overall sense of life satisfaction.

Meditation has been a huge help to me since the beginning of January. I downloaded Insight Timer to my phone, a free app with lots of guided meditations to choose from on a variety of topics. It’s free (which I love) and setting aside ten to fifteen minutes each morning to indulge in meditation has calmed my mind and my soul more than I ever dreamed possible.

It’s not an overstatement to say that I feel like a completely different person. One that can handle uncertainty and short timelines much better than before. I can now roll with the punches and I’ve accepted that it’s fine not to have the next twenty steps neatly mapped out. It’s enough to know what I’m doing at this moment and have a vague idea of the next step. Anything beyond that feels too stressful.

Anchoring myself is a wonderful gift. I credit meditation as the number one change I’ve made in the last two months, but also simply fine-tuning my awareness and working at calming myself when I’m anxious has made a big difference to the overall peace I’m experiencing. Sometimes we need a scary illness like I had this summer to properly crystallize what matters and be finally able to let go of what hangs us up and  never really served us.

My need to control has been a lifelong habit, strangling me without me being aware of how hampering it was. But now I’ve learned a better way of coping, one that involves kind words to myself and to others around me, plus a clear understanding that I am in charge of very little in this life. And that’s okay. It’s up to me to keep my mind sharp and clear, to push out of the way all of the little irritations and time-wasters that conspire to steal my joy.

I’m feeling grounded, anchored, held. I can easily admit I don’t have all the answers. In fact, I have very few of them. But it’s really fine. No one has all the answers. If they say they do, they are lying to cover up their overall anxiety level. Gentleness works better. So does staying in the moment. Having a sense of humour helps too.

Worrying about tomorrow truly does rob today of its happiness. I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m staying here, right now, and noticing what’s in me and around me. What a difference this change has made to the quality of my days and my willingness to try new and challenging things.