More Beauty, Less Rushing

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.

Anchored

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.

Opting Out of Being Pretty

Opting Out of Being Pretty

Okay, ladies, I’ve got a challenge for you. It involves living as bravely as we can by daring to be our true, authentic selves. This includes saying what we mean, feeling all of our emotions, no matter how wild, showing up exactly as we are without feeling that we need to cover up with makeup, style our hair or dress up a certain way.

Did I have you right up until that last sentence?

Lately I’m longing to just be myself by opting out of the heavy societal pressure to be pretty. Actually, it’s more than opting out. I want to actively oppose the idea that I’m supposed to be made up, fashionable, presentable in some prescribed manner. This is a tax that men and boys do not have to pay to exist in the world. It’s time for women to get to do the same without being labelled as “letting themselves go.”

If I want to feel strong and confident and in control of who I am and what I look like, I get to make this decision myself. I don’t need anyone else’s permission and neither do you. But the tide of cultural expectations is a formidable entity to challenge, so it helps when we don’t feel too isolated or odd or strange. There’s safety in a few numbers, hence my challenge to join me in this revolutionary act.

I’ve been going out into the world without makeup now for about a year. Sometimes I wear it for special occasions or to boost my self-esteem when I know every other woman in the room will be beautifully made up, but more often than not, I have gone out into society without the armour of powder, liquid makeup, concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner or lipstick (even typing out this partial list feels exhausting to me).

Now, at the beginning of 2017, I want to take this experiment up a notch. I still don’t want to cover up my face in private or in public, but now I want to feel just as beautiful and desirable with a natural face as I would with one full of makeup. This may take me a bit of time. It’s far too easy to feel less-than.

And I totally understand that some women like putting on makeup and doing their hair. I’m not saying this is wrong. I just long to move away from the pressure I sense to look a certain way in order to feel beautiful, acceptable, worthy. I want those things to come from inside of me and not be hinged on any outside factor.

So I’m going forward from here, taking huge inspiration from Alicia Keys and Leith McHugh (Brave Beauty) and others. A group of us is out there already but we can always use more. Courage is contagious. It grows and spreads and helps us all to be better versions of our truest selves.

I’d love to hear from my readers and keep this conversation going. Anyone go out regularly without makeup and feel fantastic and brave? Drop me a line and let me know that we are in this together.

Rest

Rest

Occasionally we need to wave the white flag, if only for ourselves, to say that we now need rest. If we don’t do this on a regular basis, we will get sick, which is our body’s way of waving that white flag without your input.

I’m learning to recognize when I’m emotionally, physically and mentally spent. It still takes me far too long to get there (and I’m usually helped along by a cold or other illness), but I’m trying to quiet down enough to listen to my body when it whispers before it grabs me and shakes me violently.

Every year I get seduced by the mirage of a restful December as long as I bust my butt in November to get ready. It’s almost always a lie. I can’t seem to make it happen. The calendar gets overloaded and suddenly I feel not only behind, but also resentful that the peace and calm I’ve worked for is being messed with.

restIt helps to remember that we get to set our schedules. If we feel too busy, we can pull back and identify what matters most to us and what we can let go of. Perhaps the key is searching for pockets of rest and time that we can carve out for ourselves and then refuse to feel guilty for enjoying a bit of leisure in and among our commitments.

The Christmas lights call to my spirit at this time of year with their beauty and tranquility. They ask me to slow down and appreciate them. To look at my kids when they are talking instead of trying to get something else accomplished at the same time. To recognize that our relationships matter most of all.

Who is willing to rest with me this month? Even when it seems impossible? (Actually, especially then). Let’s make a few different choices. Brew a cup of tea and sink into a favourite book. Get out a board game and make a few memories before you flip on the TV to unwind at the end of a busy day. Eat that ginger snap cookie and savour it.

Let’s be intentional about our presence this year, even as we make our lists for presents. We get to choose how much to spend and how to design our December so it meets the needs of our family. Running to catch up doesn’t make us happy. It’s better to decide what we want and create it ourselves. We don’t need anyone’s permission for this; only our own.

A large part of nurture is paying attention. Noticing who is hurting and who needs a hug and a moment of our precious time. Sometimes that person will be ourselves. And it’s not selfish to stop and look after the one who needs our care and love. It means we are awake and aware and committed to health and happiness.

Happy December. Let’s make rest a higher priority than rushing this month.

The Dark Side of Change

The Dark Side of Change

The dark side of change happens just after the initial excitement dies down. Now you are in the middle of something foreign and strange, without the usual familiar landmarks.

I hate this part of the process. It’s necessary and cannot be avoided, but it’s also unsettling and awkward. I end up declaring that I’ve made a huge mistake, but then I realize that once again I’ve confused unfamiliarity with disaster.

Change is messy. It’s frustrating and awful and glorious, all at the same damn time. The only way I know to get through to the transformation is to trudge through the mud of the frightening middle. No shortcuts exist when we are trying to jumpstart our lives.

the-dark-side-of-changeWe moved this past weekend into our townhouse. As a family, we’ve embraced the ideals of minimalism, but I’ve discovered that it’s one thing to believe in a philosophy and another thing to put it into practice.

Downsizing from a five-bedroom home into a much-smaller three-bedroom townhouse is bloody hard. What looked sleek and clean after minimizing in my big house now appears cluttered and overstuffed in my new space, even after getting rid of lots of our possessions.

I hit several metaphorical walls as we moved in (not to mention literal ones when attempting to bring boxsprings up narrow staircases). I began longing for my big and comfortable house where I knew every inch of the space I had. I craved the familiar, the simple, the stress-free. I cried, a lot. I felt afraid that this move was never going to work and wondered if we could unpick everything that brought us to this point.

Sleep and time are two wonder cures for the exhausted mind and body. My instinct is often to rush, to unpack everything in a single day, to paint every room on all three floors instead of taking it wall by wall. I have trouble celebrating the progress that I make when there are still so many problem areas to solve.

Big change is not easy. If it were straightforward, everyone would be doing it. A provincial move is a stressful experience. The best we can do is be patient and gentle with ourselves while in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Everything we do involves both loss and gain. We say goodbye so that we can now say hello. We cry over what is gone but then we smile when we consider what is ahead. Just because it’s unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s just not what we know, at least not yet.

I must give this move time. I cannot set the bar so high in terms of what I can get done in a day, a week or even an hour. Process is slow and messy and unpredictable. It’s okay to feel lost and unsure. This is part of being alive. Frailty and grief come with the package deal that is humanity.

When I’m overwhelmed, I will slow down. I will remind myself to breathe. To unclench and surrender to what I cannot possibly see coming. I’ll pet my cats and watch them sleep, for this is a spiritual practice.

The only way to get through the dark side of change is to soldier on. To laugh when the opportunities present themselves. To celebrate using weapons like sparkling wine and Halloween chocolate. To be when I feel more comfortable with the word “do”. To anticipate that some days are simply going to be hard as we make our way through big life transitions.