the mud: Just

the mud: Just: On Friday I left my phone in the car and my son, completely exasperated with me, yelled, "Who even does that?" Well, apparently so...

Just

On Friday I left my phone in the car and my son, completely exasperated with me, yelled, "Who even does that?" Well, apparently someone who didn't grow up with a phone attached to their hand, that's who. My kids have started calling me, "Boomer," as in "Ok, Boomer," when I say something they think is antiquated and not with the times and the sarcasm just rings right through. But I have to argue, I'm not a boomer. Boomers were born through 1964. I'm a Gen X-er, born between 1964 and 1976. I never thought these titles would have any relevance for me but here we are. I do have certain characteristics that drive my kids crazy, like not answering my phone. So many differences between us and yet I still think to myself, I get it. I know how hard it is to be a kid today, to grow up with all these expectations and judgments and stressors. Yet I don't. I say I do. I try to get it. I try to commiserate with them about social media and college and stress, but I don't really get it. I never lived it. And honestly, we are the generation that invented all this stress, all these demands, thinking at the same time that we could relieve some stress by giving them everything they needed. I guess it doesn't work that way.

There is a new book out called, Why We Can't Sleep, Women's New Mid-Life Crisis, by Ada Calhoun.
Our stress and anxiety is higher than any generation before. We had pressures placed upon us that we could be the ones to have it all, the corner office and the cute kids, the perfect blend of the perfect professional and personal life. And then, when we realized how hard that was and we pulled back, we felt disappointed in ourselves and our dreams. I went to school to be a doctor. That lasted about two years. I remember talking with one of my high school teachers and I could see the disappointment in her eyes when I told her I would be a teacher instead because I wanted to be there for my children. Here I am today, 50 years old, and I wonder, would it have been better to really go for it? And it's not just that, it's all the little questions. What if we had stayed in North Jersey? What if I had worked when they were little? What if we didn't switch schools? What if? What if? What if? All that baggage piles up. It stresses us out. It creates anxiety. It creates depression. And that leaks out. It affects our children. I know I have put expectations on my kids that they can do better than I did, they can have it all, in the same way the women's movement of the 80s and 90s put expectations on me. But it's worse. They have the added guilt that they were given everything and they still may not live up to these expectations. Each generation antes up and raises the stakes and takes big risks in doing so. It is too much.

So I want to work to blow apart these myths about having it all and doing it all and looking like we have it all together. I want to say that these expectations are ridiculous. For me and for my kids. Who cares? Who cares if you don't have the corner office? Who cares if you didn't get into the number 1 school? Who cares if you don't get out of bed today? Who cares if you didn't run 5 times this week? Who cares if you don't have the latest iPhone? Who cares if you don't shop at the trendy store? Who cares if life didn't turn out just the way you thought it would? Who cares if you eat the whole bag of chips? Relax. You are where you are and it was a great ride and you are who you are and you are great. And you aren't done yet! If you have a dream that didn't come true, maybe you are inspired to try again. But maybe there's an alternative right in front of you that would really mean something to people around you. All that you wanted, it's still out there, it just might look a little different than you thought. But realize how far you have come. Look at what you have already. Be happy with what you got. You did it. Quite the feat. Sit back and congratulate yourself. You are doing your best and our kids are doing their best and that's all we have to do. So... when it's getting too tough and you don't know where to turn...

Just breathe
Just look
Just listen
Just sit
Just pray
Just walk
Just laugh
Just ask
Just know
Just bask
Just be

the mud: Consolation and Desolation

the mud: Consolation and Desolation:  I went to a Jesuit college, where I met my husband. There is a lot of Jesuit experience in our family: my dad went to Jesuit college, my hu...

Consolation and Desolation

 I went to a Jesuit college, where I met my husband. There is a lot of Jesuit experience in our family: my dad went to Jesuit college, my husband's grandfather taught at a Jesuit university, three of our kids went to Jesuit schools. But sometimes I learned the most about the Jesuits when others would say to me, "Well, you know what the Jesuits say..." and they would share something I never heard before. This even happened at the doctor's office, where my doctor had gone to a Jesuit school. It's an interesting dynamic that bonds us to each other, knowing we experienced Jesuit training. Anyway, one of those concepts is the Spiritual Exercises written by Saint Ignatius. I wanted to share this exercise of Consolation and Desolation today because it's ringing true for me. 

Consolation is a time when we feel full of love toward ourselves, toward others, toward the world itself. Desolation is the absence of those feelings, and the absence of love. 

'Desolation’ is the name I give to everything contrary to what is described [as consolation]; for example, darkness and disturbance in the soul, attraction to what is low and of the earth, disquiet arising from various agitations and temptations. All this leads to a lack of confidence in which one feels oneself to be without hope and without love. One finds oneself thoroughly lazy, lukewarm, sad and as though cut off from one’s Creator and Lord. For just as consolation is contrary to desolation, in the same way, the thoughts that spring from consolation are contrary to the thoughts that spring from desolation. [317] -Quotes from ‘The Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius of Loyola’ translated by Michael Ivens SJ (Gracewing, 2004)

What to do? When I went for spiritual direction with a Jesuit priest, he taught me to bask in the consolation periods of my life. Hold onto those moments of love and goodness to get us through the rough patches. We seek to console ourselves gently, to remind ourselves that we are loved, to remind ourselves that God loves us, just as we are - despite the flaws and failures and flailing in the wind. 

Not too long ago, a friend invited me to North Carolina to go to the beach. I needed some consolation. It was so peaceful to walk along the water's edge and just bask in the warmth, what little warmth there was still felt like consolation. Sun, exercise, prayer, long walks and long talks do a body good and do the soul even better. I came home feeling healed. Here are some pictures that I took down there. They look like such opposites. One feels like it might be consolation and one feels like it might be desolation. But I'm not sure that's true. Even the darkness holds some light. Which one speaks to you today?

I wish you Consolation today, even if just for a few moments.  

the mud: Beneath

the mud: Beneath:  I love this time of year when little things start poking out of the ground - things that were invisible before, things I had forgotten abou...

the mud: Lent Lite

the mud: Lent Lite:  Hello! Thanks for coming by! Today is Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras, a day I indulge just a little bit more before Lent begins and I try to sta...

the mud: Sabbatical

the mud: Sabbatical:  When I first started my last teaching job nine years ago, they offered a year of sabbatical every nine years. Can you imagine? One year to ...

the mud: Solitude

the mud: Solitude: I remember learning about photography from my dad when I was a teenager. I had gotten a 35mm camera for Christmas one year and he explained ...

the mud: Stillness

the mud: Stillness:  I can't tell you how many cold cups of tea and coffee I've had around my house, classroom, my car, wherever. It seems that I enjoy ...

Beneath

 I love this time of year when little things start poking out of the ground - things that were invisible before, things I had forgotten about since last spring. Ironically, the kale in the garden is growing again despite no care or effort on my part. The little purple crocuses came out of the ground last week, but I think they shied away again when the cold spell hit this weekend. I'm so wonder-filled to see these things that were hidden. It reminds me of two things. One is a song called The Summons. One line is "will you love the "you" you hide, if I but call your name." I think that means we need to learn to love ourselves before anything else can happen, even the parts of us that we think we need to hide, out of shame, out of fear, out of mistaken despair, out of depression, or depravity. 

And the other thing this season reminds me of is this beautiful little book that I came across last weekend in the most adorable little book shoppe in Boston, Beacon Hill Books & Cafe. The picture book is called Beneath, by Cori Doerrfeld. In it, the character and his grandfather take a walk and wonder about all the things beneath, and they learn about themselves in the process. 

I hope you have a day of uncovering all the beauty around you, but also within you, that you may just keep hidden beneath. 

Beacon Hill Books, Boston, MA

Stillness

 I can't tell you how many cold cups of tea and coffee I've had around my house, classroom, my car, wherever. It seems that I enjoy the ritual of making coffee (or tea) but that I never get to fully indulge in the experience. It's because I, like you I'm sure, am always on the move. Going places, moving around, catching up, or getting one more thing done. Keeping up with our lives, keeping up with the kids, the neighbors, the clients. Today I invite you to stillness. Sit. Relax. Drink the whole mug. Use a beautiful mug and a beautiful spoon to stir it. Then be still. What would happen? Does it make you anxious to think about it? 

When we are constantly in motion, our nerves are taking in lots of input. When we are taking in lots of input, we are on alert, and our senses are overwhelmed. Being still allows us to settle our thoughts, settle our hearts, settle our emotions. There is a wonderful prayer, "Be still, and know that I am God." One way to pray this prayer is to leave off a word each time you repeat the phrase. Be still and know. Be still. 

Today I wish you stillness. 

Solitude

I remember learning about photography from my dad when I was a teenager. I had gotten a 35mm camera for Christmas one year and he explained to me about lenses and settings and aperture - how much light was being allowed in through the lens. It changes the focus and the concentration of the picture that develops. Remember when we had to know these things? We can do the same with our lives: How much light are we letting in and what is it focused on. I know for me the light is usually focused on other things, other people, other events. In Lent, we can take some time to focus on our inner room, let the light land inside us and see what's going on in our hearts, our minds, our bodies. I know I'm a different Me in different situations - the Me when I'm alone meditating is different from the Me when I'm at dinner with my husband. I invite you to narrow the lens, widen the aperture, and focus inside. How often do you find time to be alone? When can you just be yourself and know yourself? When we ask the question Who Am I? can we find an easy answer? 

One of the ways I've learned more about myself and Who I Am is by studying the Enneagram. If you haven't tried it yet, there's a survey you can answer to give you a deeper understanding of yourself. It's encouraging to know that there are many different types of people, some who share the same worries and the same drives, the same strengths, and the same weaknesses. There are 9 different numbers that describe the various stances or the ways we see ourselves and the world around us. And these are all different faces of God. So by learning about ourselves, we learn about God and others too. If you have more time and want to plunge into the Enneagram, The Road Back to You was very enlightening... 

Today I hope you find a few minutes of solitude - to focus inside, on You.  

Sabbatical

 When I first started my last teaching job nine years ago, they offered a year of sabbatical every nine years. Can you imagine? One year to do and explore and learn that was paid! They took it away shortly after I was hired and I never made it. But guess what? We can take our own sabbatical any time. You are probably saying, there's no way. The world would come crashing to a halt if I took one year off, let alone one day. And I'm sure you'd be right. But what if we took moments of sabbatical? What if we took an hour a day? a minute an hour? One day a week? Here's a history of the Jewish feast of Sabbath. A day of rest. A day of quiet. No work. No labor. No striving. Sounds glorious, doesn't it? No travel, no cooking, no cleaning. That is impressive. (Ironically, this link here is from Rabbi Rifat Sonsino, PhD., a professor at Boston College, where we just got back from a visit with our daughter. It's all connected!)
 A sabbatical is a break or change from normal routines. Isn't it amazing that many spiritual traditions had this time built into their yearly calendars? I think we have something to gain from this ancient wisdom, something that we actually really need today, not just personally, but as a society too. Some of the words that are associated with sabbath, or Shabbat, are liberty, relaxation, rest, rejuvenation, respite, interim, breather, inspiration, observe, calming, renew, recharge, listen. What would that mean to you? What would it mean for you to be renewed or rejuvenated?

 This Lent, we combine two traditions to create a new period of rest. One where we step off the treadmill and take time to be slow - intentionally slow, or at least slow-er. How can you find respite in your daily life? Choose one word that you can reflect on for just a moment. What does it mean to you? 

Prayers and blessings, my friend. 

Lent Lite

 Hello! Thanks for coming by! Today is Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras, a day I indulge just a little bit more before Lent begins and I try to start sacrificing all the things I shouldn't do or eat anyway - coffee, wine, salt, and butter and potato chips. (Sometimes I think food is just vehicle to get more salt into my mouth.) But this year I'm going to try to do things a little differently. I'm going to write each day and try to ask, and hopefully answer, some questions that have been on my mind as I enter the 'second half of life.' This is going to be Lent Lite - the easy way to step back and reflect on what it is that I want in my life. It won't be heavy on the Catholic guilt or any of that stuff either, just a little sprinkle of spirituality that gets lost in our everyday travels. Maybe it won't be so easy, but I hope you'll join me for it. Hit follow below to come along on the journey! 

Burned

 During the weeks of holiday preparations, I found myself rushing about like we all do. But this year I was more conscious of trying to slow down - not to change my pace, or shorten my list of to-dos, but to be aware of my movement. It's because this year I'm feeling old. Maybe not totally old, but I'm really thinking about the idea that an accident could throw everything into chaos. If I fell down the steps, if I cut myself, if I burned myself. So I had to whisper these little reminders as I went about my day, "Don't forget to use the potholder!" "Be careful with that knife!" "Hold the railing when you walk down the stairs!" I was talking to myself like I would a 3-year-old! What has happened to me? It's this new hyperawareness that things aren't always in my control, but also that I have to take each step one at a time. 

So this worked for me. The list was complete. The cookies didn't burn. The knives were all back in order. The laundry didn't trip me up. I was injury free! Up until the day after Christmas. I was slicing some bread to make garlic bread for dinner, not uttering these little warnings to myself, and it happened. I sliced right through my finger. Well, not the whole finger, but a pretty deep cut. I still managed to sit through dinner, wrapped in paper towels and an ice pack, debating whether or not to go to urgent care. It seemed like it would never stop bleeding. But then, it did. My husband got me some liquid band-aid and butterfly strips and we wrapped it up and it stopped bleeding. I kept it covered and protected for a few days and it began to heal. Miraculously. Today you can't even see it. 

It's this way with our hearts too. Over the last few years, I've felt like my heart is bleeding. For so many reasons. Our world, our earth, our relationships, our families, our leaders, our children, and our health. One thing that has been heavy on my heart is my career, or I would even call it my vocation. I have loved teaching since I was in school myself. I felt I had a purpose in my life and it was something I fell passionately in love with. However, things have changed. Without going into details, I fell out of love. Some people call it burnout. I felt burned. There were so many wonderful parts of my work, but they couldn't carry me through anymore. It was like a blister that swelled and spread. I couldn't do anything about it either. I tried mindfulness, I talked with other teachers, I watched all the funny teachers on Instagram making fun of the same things that were bothering me. Nothing worked. So how do you heal? I think it's the same way that my finger healed. Cover, comfort, and protect. 

Cover. I feel like right now I am covering myself. I am hiding. Taking myself out of the heat. It's helpful. I no longer feel as vulnerable. So nothing else gets in - no infection or toxicity.

Comfort. I'm doing little things each day to find some solace. Wrapping myself in blankets. Spending time with my kids. Arranging flowers. Reading good books. Taking baths. It's working. I can breathe.

Protect. We hear a lot about boundaries these days. I never really thought about them before, but when I look back I did establish boundaries, sometimes more effectively than others. Boundaries build good relationships, just like good fences build good neighbors. Here I am in my fifties finally learning these lessons. 

Someday my heart will stop bleeding. It will heal and maybe months from now I won't even remember this pain, just like with my finger. I know so many people going through really difficult things right now. I know your heart may be bleeding. I hope this helps. I hope you know you can cover yourself up in whatever way you need to. Hide. Runaway. Lock yourself in the bathroom. Cry in the shower. I hope you find things and people to comfort you. Eat chocolate. Buy yourself an ice cream cone. Drink the whole bottle of wine. Or not. Call an old friend who knows you better than anybody. I hope you know you have permission to protect yourself in whatever way you need to to keep going. Say no. Tell someone to go to hell! Or not. Surround yourself with the people who love you. Cry on someone's shoulder. Allow people in who make you stronger and better. Someday you will stop bleeding too.