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.

Ground Rules

Ground Rules

I did my first literary salons in grade eleven and twelve English classes a few weeks ago. I approached it as an experiment, hoping that seventeen and eighteen-year-old students would be interested in the art of open-ended conversation on meaningful topics such as loss, hope, pain, regret and letting go.

I began by laying out three key ground rules for the salon:

  1. Only say what you are comfortable sharing
  2. What is said here remains confidential
  3. This is not a debate

I spent the most time elaborating on number 3. I said, “You are not trying to prove a point, or change someone’s mind, or be right. The salon is not about ideas. It’s about experience; we are trying to connect with each other by finding those ‘me too’ moments of identification.”

ground rulesWhat happened in both classes was astonishing. After a brief warm-up round of questions drawn from a bright blue bag, the small groups of six teens each moved on to deeper subjects. Everyone participated by sharing and listening. The very air in the classroom warmed up as we all focused on each person’s story. The braver someone got with their individual answer, the more intense the connection became from person to person in that group.

I floated around, as did the teacher, and we both shared from our lives where appropriate. I was amazed by how different the experience was from regular conversation because of the ground rules, particularly the reminder that we were all there to listen and share, not to convince anyone of anything.

I’m still mulling over the power of this experience, because an idea is germinating somewhere in my soul about how healing and important this type of authentic connection is with one another. Ground rules for the process of willingly engaging with another person’s experience, with no judgement or criticism, seems to be a key piece of this interaction puzzle. But how do I take this concept from the relative safety of a high school English class and bring it to the rest of the world?

I’m still working on that. I hope an answer begins to materialize to this worthwhile question. I know that something significant shifted and changed in me as we were talking. When a student inevitably said something I disagreed with, I took a deep breath and steered the group conversation back to the specific question at hand because the ground rules said I couldn’t debate an idea or philosophy.

Instead, I tried to connect with the person’s unique experience, and search for places to identify with him or her on a human level. This strategy increased the level of vulnerability and connection we all felt, instead of adding more angry voices into a discussion on who was right and who was wrong. Every one of us gets plenty of that already on the Internet.

This experience was gentler, softer, more real and insightful. I want endlessly more of that, and it’s up to me to grow it in my own soul and then give it away when it blooms.

At the end of the salon, students said that they saw each other in a new way as a result of the group conversations. They realized that no person is any one thing. We are more alike than we are different. We all hurt, worry, hope, dream and fear.

When we agree to hold another person’s dignity in a safe relationship space, we find freedom to be honest, open and genuine. Observing the ground rules changes us, allowing for compassion to grow, and this in turn has the power to change the whole world.