Tag: wholehearted life

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Finding happiness in midlife

Wes, that’s the name of the lifeguard at my neighborhood YMCA who plays the best poolside music at 5 a.m. I’m all about getting my 80’s jam on, and he throws in the Cure, Smiths, Journey and a little Girl from Ipanema to keep us on our toes. Seriously, my happiness increases as each beat brings a swell of memories and I’m catapulted back to that decade.

Chloe, an early bird swimmer in the next lane and I were commenting on Wes’ absence from the deck recently and the subsequent musical decline. I shared my love of the 80’s as my high school and college musical anthem. Deadpan she looked at me and said she was born in ’85. As in 1.9.8.5. I followed my barely suppressed sharp intake of breath with, “that’s when I graduated from high school.” And as I left the pool that day thinking about the balance of our conversation…which I’ll get too…I was grateful for the happiness of this age. Unexpected happiness found in my 50’s.

Is there a secret society?

In my 30’s, as Chloe mirrored in her own comments, I thought that once my kids were out of school, easy breezy, lemon squeezy. Really. I thought that once the youngest was out of college, I’d be sailing on easy street. Oh, you silly, silly girl.

I could not have been more wrong.

  1. Kids are tougher to parent as adults. It’s a fact. Perhaps a fact I made up, but countless parents will agree.
  2. My mid 40’s were a disaster. The worst. Hormone hell. Inner turmoil. Outer turmoil. All.the.things.
  3. I felt like a significant shift was happening inside of me and didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything more than struggle through.

No one, and I mean ZERO people had even whispered to me about what came with midlife. Sure, the midlife crisis and the sports car, who hasn’t heard of that, but for women? Had my head been in the sand? Day after day of the struggle bus. Approaching my mid-40’s there should have been one of those road signs posted, “Sharp Turn Ahead.” Instead? Crickets.

But wait, there’s hope

As hope fluttered slowly to the ground and 50 stared me in the eyes, an unexpected shift happened. Life felt lighter. F’real. Turns out, plenty has been written about midlife, I simply hadn’t discovered it yet. I started to find my people, women with shared experiences. My own life thus far led me to conclude that as we age, all that stuff we a) accumulated; b) worried about; c) stressed over; d) thought was important, doesn’t matter all that much. Perhaps it was all that stuff that sparked the midlife turmoil. At 50 and beyond, I’m finding I reserve my energy for things that actually matter and care less about those that don’t.

I’m not alone in wondering about midlife as my bookshelf will attest. One source of hope is found in studies which show happiness increases as we age. There’s a name for it, the Happiness U-Curve. And midlife? Midlife is conveniently found at the bottom of the U-Curve. Because, life. Genuinely, wisdom comes with age. All the things preoccupying our minds in midlife begin slipping in importance. Priorities shift. We care more about connection than collection, comparison or competition. Life slows down and we are gifted with opportunities to appreciate it.

We discover happiness

My youngest niece is nearly a year old and I’m fortunate to live close to her since my recent move. The joy and happiness that fills my heart playing with her is…unexpected. She’s not the first niece or nephew and I love all of them. Perhaps it’s the stage of life I’m in where I feel I can immerse with her and enjoy the moment more so than I have in the past. It’s simple, and it’s pure happiness.

I’m also delighted every single day by the sunrise that paints the morning clouds and reflects on the lake beside my house. Not once has it disappointed. This phase, it’s unexpected and filled with happiness at the simple joys of life. And if I’m to believe the U-Curve, my happiness now is about the same as it was in my late 30’s…before the dark years…and not nearly as strong as it will be in the years ahead.

Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn to women my age and older. Companions on the journey facing us today. We’re explorers of new dimensions within as we strip away the layers of who we’ve been told to be to discover who we really are, and the happiness that’s found within our true nature. But for today, wherever you are on the happiness curve, it’s where you’re supposed to be. Because we require each step of the journey before the next. And I’m on that journey with you. Be brave my friends. Lisa

 

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Embracing the flow of water

Near the edge of the San Francisco Bay, just outside the Golden Gate Bridge, the incoming tide from the Pacific Ocean meets the outgoing flow from the Bay. During periods where both incoming and outgoing are competing for real estate, the water churns. Caught in it, you feel like you’re in a washing machine, not in the flow of water but fighting against it. On the one occasion I was in proximity to the Golden Gate Bridge, during an open water swim of the same name, our able guides gave warning to stay inside the bridge to avoid being tossed around. Believe me you, I listened. But in life, we often feel like we are being tossed around.

Water, water everywhere

I owned a Toyota Highlander for a solid 10 years. The color was Waveline Pearl. Unique, slightly blue, slightly lavender. Certainly, I wouldn’t see another vehicle that special color. But you know what? I did. Everywhere. An example of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, or, frequency bias. It’s the effect of you notice what you notice. It’s not that Waveline Pearl was suddenly all the rage, it’s simply that it was new to me and noticed more often.

Same with water this week. I begin each day reading a day in Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening. In a recent passage, he spoke of water. Big deal, you might be thinking, but I’m fascinated by water as it is. Having recently moved and finding myself situated lakeside, gazing upon it every chance I have, including this very moment. This passage was what I like to call, a punch in the gut. One that stuck with me and I can’t seem to get away from. Nepo spoke of water, citing that ‘Most things break instead of transform because they resist it…water, accepts whatever is tossed or dropped or placed into it, embracing it completely.’ Dang, I think I fall into the resist camp. I think I can maintain a tight grip rather than going with the flow of water.

Why should we embrace the flow of water?

Its possible water evokes my attention because it is my happy place. Beginning the day enveloped by the water at the pool brings me peace, quiets my mind and relaxes my body. But life…an entirely different story. Life seemingly calls me to chart my own path. I’m the ‘let me do it’ child, the one who does things her own way. Learning, as I get older/smarter that if I look for the currents, they’ll guide me. Showing me how to proceed and avoid the rocks. Or, if not avoid, flow over.

But I still resist. I believe, genuinely, that I can ‘figure out’ a solution to any challenge. Ok, any might be a bit extreme, but many challenges. And 95% of the time, that’s probably true. I noodle my way through it, using my past knowledge to craft the solution. It could be an easy ride, or a rough one, but I get there, I figure it out.  Best solution? Maybe yes, maybe no. Yet, if I flowed with the water, letting life unfold before me instead of examining it like one of those ‘fun’ brain challenge puzzles, I would find ease. Embrace the tide.

Instead, I, like so many of us, waste untold amounts of mental energy figuring it out on our own.

Embrace the tide

Since I’ve moved, every moment of every day has been filled with settled. It’s nesting, but out of a sense of control. I’m that person who does not feel internal settled until the space around me is in order. About a month before I moved though, I signed up for a half-day yoga/meditative ‘Pause’ put on by The Loft on Main, a local yoga studio. It was yesterday, about three weeks after the move. Turned out, forced stillness was required to remind me to let go and embrace the tide.

Near the end of our time, our leader, Angie, led us through Lectio Devina, a contemplative practice. The focus was a passage from a speech given by Howard Thurman at Spellman College. Thurman was an educator, philosopher, civil rights leader and theologian. The idea with Lectio Devina is that the passage is read four times, each with a different focus. You take from it what you need as the words wash over you. What stuck with me was, “Will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls? Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Ouch. I’ve been trying to hold the water.

Simply flow

Which is impossible. If you have found a way to hold water with your bare hands, tell me about it, because from where I sit, impossible.

Instead of white knuckling gripping, in the name of ‘figuring it out’ my way through life, what if I considered what strings I was holding? The ones that nagged in the back of my mind to do this and that. Figure it out. Water has been a wise instructor as it washes over me. Flowing. If we simply allow the flow of life without resisting, oh the places it would take us! To the discovery of our genuine self, which remains a recurring theme in this phase of middle life. I don’t know that we ever truly ‘arrive’ because, like water, if we’re not flowing, we’re stagnant.

Maybe allowing the flow of water, or more aptly, the flow of life, to mold and shape us, isn’t difficult at all. The shaping will leave us formed beautifully, precisely as we need to be for the moment. And time, the tide, will take us to all the places we need to be. Be brave my friends. Lisa

 

 

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Unpacking life, box by box by box

Weeks before moving across the country, thoughts of packing my life into boxes engulfed every portion of my mind. I’d wake in the middle of the night playing Tetris, packing version, in my mind. Thinking about which small piece would fill this mostly full box. And one day, after toiling away at it for untold hours, it was done. Everything packed, at least everything I wanted to transport to the next phase. After saying goodbye to the moving truck and meandering my way across the country, here I am. Unpacking life I tenderly packed up and brought with me.

Life that’s in a box

Whose life can honestly be placed in a box? That’s the reality. We pack things in a box. Silverware, dishes, books, books and more books, clothes, décor, my grandma’s Kitchen Aid mixer and china, pictures…the deeper you go, the closer to your heart the contents become. I have boxes of pictures because, well, back in the day…when you actually clicked a picture and didn’t know how it would turn out until developed…I captured my children’s youth.

And still, these are things. Things with memories attached. Or maybe better, they’re things that spark memories. Making the event return to life. Triggering the emotions and feelings that surrounded the origin. What’s within the boxes is the evidence of the string of events that comprise our lives.

Unpacking life, over and over

Therapy. That was the first place I unpacked life. Upon entering the middle phase of life, I found myself swirling with emotion.  It may have been all the hormones shifting in my body, or my ovaries deciding it was time to rid themselves of all the eggs, but the culmination was tears and emotions I was ill-equipped to navigate. I found myself sitting on the proverbial couch for months.

Making sense of the fragments of my life, the ones that resisted moving forward smoothly, that caused jagged edges. Unpacking our lives can be a fragile process and one which is best navigated with the assistance of a professional. Or as I like to call my past therapists, a paid friend.

Close to one hundred boxes of life to sort through solo? A daunting task. Yet what do you do except dive in? There is no other way but forward. With boxes and with your life.

Different but the same

Despite the fact that moving involves boxes and packages and things, unpacking evokes similar emotions to therapy. A fact that goes unacknowledged in moving guides you find online, or in the numerous blogs providing ‘Best tips for a smooth move.’ Not even a week into it, emotions flooded me the other day. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of decisions, Tetris in reverse.

Unpacking life requires decision after decision to determine where all those things belong. Where they fit. Revisiting the decisions to carry forward items in your new life, navigated without the help of your paid friend. While packing is an emotional journey in and of itself, unpacking may be the harder task.

You get to choose what carries forward. Only you. The things are simply that, things. The overwhelm? Part of the process I’ve decided. Your life is laid out in front of you ready to re-launch. It’s your move.

Truly, it’s your move

Metaphorically and IRL. In real life, the move is physical. You experience it physically. New surroundings, rooms and hiding places. Metaphorically, you’ve provided distance. In my last moments standing in my empty home of nine years in California, I pondered the life I’d lived there. If those walls could talk…I said a silent goodbye to that phase.

What carries forward is entirely up to you, to me. The memories, the decisions, who I am, I am the only one deciding what resurfaces. As I think about it, all of life is like one big move. Whether physical or not, you’re in charge of what comes forward. You can recreate your life over and over. You can. It’s your move.

As for me? Well, you’ll have to stay tuned. I’m still unpacking.

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What happens when anxiety takes over

I had an anxiety attack last week. It arrived out of the blue and blindsided me. Visiting with my family, planning a trip to the beach that day, easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Our beach departure time was unexpectedly bumped up and upstairs preparing to go, I found myself unable to think straight. I could sense my thoughts jumbled and my stomach knotting up. Making a feeble attempt to determine what I needed to do, I froze. One thought dominated my mind which was, get out of this. In that moment, escaping the situation was the answer. Without thinking twice about it, I made my way downstairs to deliver the news. Anxiety had taken over.

Being chased by a tiger

Anxiety is a bear to describe to anyone who doesn’t have the clinical variety. It’s like teaching a dog to knit a sweater. The feelings that arise within you are not because of anything per se. I used to be asked if there was a precipitating event. A) that was fancy-pants talk; B) No. And no, I can’t accurately describe it or ‘relax.’ Because in that moment, if you’re having an anxiety attack, you’re being chased by a tiger.

In truth, hours later I can describe it because I may as well play a doctor on TV. Literally. I love all things medical and research accordingly.

When you are experiencing an anxiety attack, your brain has switched all functioning to the amygdala, otherwise known as your lizard brain. Its function is to ‘save you from the tiger.’ It releases adrenaline which floods your brain and functioning is reduced to fight or flight. I choose flight. Anxiety takes over and I want out of whatever situation I’m in. Escape the tiger.

Take a breath

In that moment, one of the only solutions is to take a breath, then another, and another. Your brain needs time to allow the flood to recede. For your pre-frontal cortex to resume functioning and think. That’s the solution.

But circumstances don’t always allow that space. Sometimes, you must push forward. Situations where, either in your mind or in fact, you have no choice. In which case, emotions start to fly. For me, tears. Others may exude anger, frustration, sadness. It’s the bodies way of trying to release the fight or flight hormone, the cortisol. The same thing happens when someone is angry or ‘seeing red,’ they can’t think their way out of it because they’re flooded. Likely, in fight mode.

You understand me

Fortunately, in my beach scenario, I was given a chance to take a breath. Departure time released, giving me space to breath and wade through the jumbled thoughts in my head. I had time…the only thing that calmed the tiger and allowed the flood of adrenaline to recede.

I don’t speak for anyone else how has anxiety, but I’ve learned that when I’m under stress, I’m far more prone to experience it. Particularly if my routine is thrown off. Routine provides me with security. When a situation has an increasing number of unknowns, the tiger gets restless. But with processing time, I can feed the tiger a snack, think through the situation and Tetris it all into place.

When we were driving to the beach and the tiger was safely back in its cage, thanks in part to time and in part to medication, I explained the neuroscientific cause of anxiety and it helped. Answers for my family who were always in my corner, but with information could better support me in the future.

We need to own our wellbeing

Those who struggle with anxiety, or other mental issues generally hide it from friends and family. Because shame.  A general feeling of embarrassment or being flawed permeates those afflicted. You can’t see a mental challenge the way you may observe a physical one. People often don’t understand it. And yet, mental issues are equally impactful, perhaps more so because of the stigma tied to it.

But there is no shame in having a mental issue, it’s an illness. And honestly, those who are afflicted must own our wellbeing around it. For me, medication, meditation and breathing help. Talking about it after the fact helps. Being pushed in the moment? Does not help. It’s like the tiger invited their lion buddies to join the chase. If you struggle through a mental issue, my hope is that you have someone to talk to about it and that you obtain information that helps you understand what’s happening inside you.

At the end of the day, anxiety took over, but it didn’t win. Tiger secured. Flood receded. That’s authentic me friends. The messy, brave, wholehearted, daring me. We’re on the journey together. Be brave. Lisa

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Nuances of a word – an exploration

Words fascinate me. The intricacies, the diversity and varied use of a mere 26 letters to create meaning for the experiences of our lives. Through my writing practice, I practice. Using different words to capture the subtle nuances of a word behind what otherwise would be banality.  Over the past few years, my passion to read has accompanied my love of words and I study the pages of books, seeing the art authors employ to describe their innermost thoughts and stories. An important component of the study of words involves the meaning. And I’ve learned that looking beyond the standard dictionary is necessary to capture the true essence of the letters on a page.

What is a virgin?

As odd as it may appear, the word virgin sparked my interest on a random Wednesday. Nothing like diving right into the meat of it. Virgin. Reading the word, you might cringe, or blush, or develop a picture in your head. One of purity and chasteness. Primarily of a woman, though the word today equally applies to a man. The Webster definition first cites: 1) a person who has never had sexual intercourse, but if you read on, 2) a person who is naïve, innocent, or inexperienced in a particular context.

Mary, the mother of Christ, who we first imagine as a virgin, wasn’t given her Virgin Mary title because of modern day definition 1) a person who has never had sexual intercourse. Barbara G. Walker in The Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets, suggests that Mary is instead simply a young, unmarried woman, period, and that the word did not hazard a guess regarding her lack of intercourse. In her book Travelling with Pomegranates Sue Monk Kidd speaks of the ancient definition of virginity. Loosely, a woman belonging to herself. Being autonomous. Many nuances of a word.

Reclaiming the ancient

A woman belonging to herself.

Five words that capture a vision. Of a woman who is unencumbered by the trappings of other people’s expectations. Autonomous and free to create her own path, carve her own destiny. Why is that not the narrative we routinely place around the vision of a virgin? Instead, we focus on the sexual purity of a woman as desirable and to be coveted. And maybe it is. The merits of sexual purity, particularly at a young age, have a physical, physiological, and safety basis. In my humble opinion, related more to maintaining a girl’s agency at a time when she is ill prepared for the implications of sex. Reasons of protection which are often shrouded with a concept of preservation.

Setting aside the physical conditions of virginity, can we recapture the essence of a woman belonging to herself? Autonomous?

Is midlife a rebirth of virginity?

At 53, I’m solidly in midlife and while it’s said that mortality is frequently contemplated in this phase, that’s not my experience. Instead, I find myself unencumbered by the expectations that plagued me in earlier years. No longer do I fret about what this person or that person will imagine about me. Genuinely. It’s none of my business. I’m discovering that, in fact, I belong to myself and am autonomous.

I am the boss of me.

Not to imply that I am unconcerned with how my actions impact others, I am. That’s a function of emotional intelligence. But the decisions I make are mine alone. I continue have flashes of someone else’s voice in my head, but I return to my own inner wisdom (well…not perfectly…so long as I’m paying attention).

Midlife discoveries

Maybe midlife is truly a time of re-discovery, as we enter, we’re inexperienced. It’s new and undiscovered, this newfound freedom. Perhaps we are virgins, of our own creation, still forming the paths we’ll travel in the second half of life. We are nuances of a word. Belonging to ourselves. Autonomous yet inner connected through relationships. Deeper relationships that in previous years, which, to my delight, I’m discovering. Particularly with women as we share our experience.

We can embrace midlife as a rebirth of our authentic selves, a time when we belong to ourselves. Without it, we ignore the daring invitation to renewal and discovery of all the experiences that await us. It’s our shared journey, unique as you and each woman who chooses it. Be brave my friends. Lisa

 

 

 

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Gaining perspective and daring

Earlier in my career, I had the sweet luck to travel to beautiful National Parks. One year, I travelled to Death Valley National Park in a bearable month, October. Never having been there, the landscape struck me with a sense of wonder. In the desert, gaining perspective can be challenging because of the lack of comparison. You gaze across endless seas of sand and your perspective is limited by what you can see, which is nothing but rolling sand in several directions. You realize how vast the landscape is and how minute you are in comparison. In subsequent years, I travelled through Death Valley during a bike race and found the terrain much different. Apparently, the desert landscape is not flat. I could see my prior vision had been narrow. Perspective follows that pattern. In the moment, you see narrowly what’s in front of you, but in hindsight, you see the entire landscape. The process of aging affords you perspective, and, I believe, the daring to act on the results.

Perspective in hindsight

As a girl growing up in the 70’s, the idea of feminism was radical to me. In my mind, feminism equaled: ‘bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan’ the hallmark of Enjoli perfume ads; hairy arm pits (no thank you for me); working women; and Ditto jeans…because you were sexier in Ditto’s. Feminism also meant Gloria Steinem who, as I heard her spoken of, was radical and hated men. Apart from my one pair of Ditto jeans, which I coveted, I was not about the feminist way of thinking. I stayed cloistered in my Holly Hobby world and tuned into Little House on the Prairie each Monday night. A skewed view of the world indeed.

But college…oh college, the first of many eye openers. People who saw the world differently, who broadened my perspective. A far cry from the quaint, conservative, church teachings in my hometown. I recall being in a church service while home for a holiday and the pastor spoke of women being submissive. I did a double take and wondered how I missed that in all the years I’d been attending. That idea rolled around in my head as I grappled with forming my own perspective about my role as a woman.

Undue influence

Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, ‘the church,’ is responsible for defining what ‘womanhood’ is for many women in the United States and around the world. Faith traditions usually include the role of women , and it has been further refined by a multitude of denominations. With rare exception, the refinements did not provide more agency and freedom to women. Instead, they neatly tucked women into a box of rules that defined when we spoke, what we said, how we served, and the degree to which (and how) we could express ourselves. From where I sit today, the faith perspective was also skewed.

But influential.

Because the powers that be within faith communities speak with authority, with certainty, about an array of topics, but most definitely about women. What’s been braided together over the years is a perspective that, to be a good (insert your faith here), you must also be XY and Z. And I guarantee you XY and Z do not have Gloria Steinem as a poster child. No, XY and Z has a quiet, supportive, submissive woman who does not make waves. Who does not speak her mind, who carries a load not understood by the opposite sex who defines how we are ‘supposed to’ act.

Shifting to a daring perspective

You know who should define women’s behavior? Women. Specifically, each individual woman. Because no playbook captures the myriad of our experiences. Does that make me a feminist? Ok. Maybe it’s because I’m in the second half of life and feeling daring, not caring as much about what others think, but we have permission for our behaviors to range to the same degree as anyone else. If we’re angry, we should get angry. Overwhelmed, we can show it. Sad, happy, excited, frustrated, perplexed? Yes, yes, and yes. When we don’t express our feelings and shove them inside, keeping ourselves buttoned up on the outside so that we don’t draw attention, those feelings, that energy, it goes somewhere. Where we see it manifest is in illness. Chronic illness from the long-term effects of stress.

A friend sent me this video yesterday sharing the perfect perspective. If you’re angry, be angry, truly experience your life. We’ve been conditioned to ‘not make a fuss,’ but if you want to make a fuss, make a fuss. Another person’s discomfort if we break a gender norm in our behavior is none of our business. It’s not. I don’t write that to be confrontational. It’s the truth. If we’re behaving respectfully, albeit forcefully, again…we’re allowed.

It’s a rip off that true perspective occurs in hindsight. Be that as it may, I have perspective now, 53 years in. Will it be different 10 years from now? I hope so. For today though, I’m fed up with the norms we’ve been given and ready to embrace a daring perspective. What that means, I’m not sure, but I’m confident I’ll gain perspective along the path. This is your journey, friends, what do you want it to be? Be brave. Lisa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Why live your life with a daring spirit?

Remarkable as it may seem, we’ve arrived in January. As I scrolled through my social media feed, the range of ‘resolutions,’ was endless. Lose weight, exercise, learn to speak Russian…maybe I made that one up, but a wide array of actions designed to improve upon the current state. I was not among those making resolutions as I’ve chosen instead to pick a word for the year the last few years. My word serves as a guidepost for behavior throughout the year. You may have seen the preview last month of 2021’s pick, daring. Why? My internal voice was telling me, “live your life with a daring spirit.”

Why choose daring?

There are literally thousands of words I could have chosen, millions even. But in November, daring knocked at the door of my mind. I often think about one of my Dad’s go to sayings, “Life is not a dress rehearsal.” Yet, I’ve lived much of mine as though it were. With a mindset that once I’d done the thing, whatever that thing was, I’d be happy, content, filled with joy. Often that thing revolved around my weight, but also to do with my career, or a relationship – or lack thereof. Right around the corner, life was going to be all I hoped it would be. But the truth is, that’s not how it works.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver – The Summer Day

Live for today

Nope, it’s not how it works at all. New Year’s Resolutions date back to 4000 B.C. and the ancient Babylonians. They began as offerings to pagan gods and continued to the modern era with the overriding theme being to ‘do better’ in an area of life. As many as 45% of Americans make resolutions with only 8% maintaining them. That’s a dismal statistic.

Because, there’s nothing magical about January 1st. Julius Caesar may have thought so in making sacrifices to the god Janus, but it’s merely a day. I stopped making resolutions for reasons I honestly can’t recall. The idea of a word was appealing, and I stuck with it. But why choose to live my life with a daring spirit?

Because every day is a January 1st. We start over every single day. Brené Brown writes about the concept of postponing joy. Postponing joy is a form of living like you’re in dress rehearsal. Which we’re not. I’ve spent years of my life waiting for ‘the things’ to line up so that I can be truly happy. But as much as we want that magical day to come, it never does.

Living a daring life

And all that is good and well, but it still doesn’t explain daring. After reading Brené for several years now, I can see that I’ve lived in a safety bubble. Armored up and protected from risk and danger. Except you know what? That’s where joy is. In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brown writes, “We cannot selectively numb emotions, if we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive ones.” I’ve numbed my share of painful emotions and I can assure you, that doesn’t make you happy all the time, it makes you numb.

Life with a daring spirit means you’re going to get your heart crushed. Damn. But life with a daring spirit also means that while you’re going to be vulnerable, and the pain will still be there, so will the joy. You cannot get to joy without going through suffering. If you did, you wouldn’t know joy when you experienced it. There would be nothing to compare it to.

Living life with a daring spirit leads to risk, to vulnerability, to courage. And it may look like an ordinary day from the outside, but below the surface, those baby steps to live the one wild and precious life are one after the other. Daring is using your voice, speaking your truth, even when it might risk losing belonging. But, my friends, if we do not live life with a daring spirit, what do we have? Day after day of resolutions. Thumbs down to continuing that tradition. You, we, are perfectly made and as we’re supposed to be, as we are today. Let’s choose to live like we believe it. Be brave my loves. Lisa

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Living a daring life

Four days a week you can find me happily cruising back and forth in a pool lane at my gym. It’s a little trickier now because you must reserve lanes given the social distancing restrictions. 100% worth it because water is my happy place. But the other day. Boy oh boy…it was a hotbed of drama. I’d spent time before I headed over journaling and pondering my word for 2021. It landed in my lap really. I’ll be focused on living a daring life.

Everyday opportunities to be daring

With that fresh in my mind, I was presented with the opportunity to be daring that morning. To be clear, as I unfold what it means to me to be daring, the dimensions will expand. I’m rooted in Daring Greatly by Brené Brown, but not that day. My swim pals and I had reserved our lanes days before and were 30 minutes into our swim. When I paused at the wall, a guy informed me that I was in his lane and I needed to get out. I explained I’d signed up for it and he said he’d already checked with the front and I was wrong. Confused, I looked at my friends and we adjusted, shifting so we could share two lanes. He was in the pool maybe 15 minutes and then got out.

When we finished our hour-long swim, we fumed over the situation and I reiterated that I’d reserved the lane. They agreed, after all, we’d done it together. In those moments, I realized that I hadn’t been daring at all! I didn’t stick up for myself, presuming I was in the wrong and, classic Enneagram 9, didn’t want a fuss, and acquiesced. As I left the gym, I asked the attendant up front, and the guy did not have the lane and hadn’t even checked. He lied to me. Honestly, it was gaslighting, making me question my own memory. And still, I was not daring.

Wake up to your life

As plain as day this situation showed me that I had missed an opportunity to be daring. But isn’t that always the way? We have clarity in hindsight. Being daring would have been saying he was wrong, and swimming away. Oh wait, excuse me for a minute while I untie the knot in my stomach. Not even kidding. Does anyone else have that response to personal confrontation? Anyone?

My limbic system, my body, genuinely feels the emotion resulting from the thought of being confrontational. And for those of you who identify, how are we to live daring lives when we can’t hold our ground? Being daring requires that we’re awake to our lives. That we listen to our bodies and hearts and are vulnerable in pursuing our desires. It could look like telling someone close to you that their behavior makes you uncomfortable. Or telling someone that you love them first. Saying no to a family member’s request, without giving a reason. One way that we’re living a daring life is speaking up for ourselves, and that takes vulnerability.

It always comes back to vulnerability

And here we are back with our friend vulnerability (said no one ever). Vulnerability, according to Brené Brown, is uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. All of which the situation with Mr. Pool Liar presented to me. Even with someone I didn’t know, I wasn’t vulnerable. But you know what? That blatant reminder slapped me across the face. Really. It reminded me to be daring. Reminded me that it’s ok if someone else is upset with me – which is a mountain sized risk to an Enneagram 9. But it’s ok.

To be clear, scheme of things, the pool scenario was no big deal. But at the same time, it was. It reminded me I can stand up for myself. Even though I didn’t do it in the moment. And I’d ask you, where are you missing opportunities to be vulnerable? To be daring with your life? What would be different if you chose to be daring, more often, to the point where you are living a daring life? It’s becoming my journey and I hope you’ll come along with me. Be Brave friends, it’s our one and only life. Lisa

 

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You don’t have to be a good girl

Yesterday morning, I spoke with My Village Well, joined by a group of women who regularly gather for growth, connection, laughter and, on occasion, tears. My topic was Rising Strong, based on the work of Brené Brown in her book by the same name. Chosen because we will all need a path to rise from 2020, the topic led to a spirited conversation about boundaries and, interestingly enough, the consensus that many of us are tired of being a good girl.

The short path to get there

You might have the Talking Heads in your mind right now and their classic, “How did I get here?” How indeed.

As women, the idea that we would venture out and pursue a life that is something other than what we’re ‘supposed to’ do is foreign. At least it was to me. Long entrenched in the idea that I was supposed to ‘behave,’ and go wit the flow, any action to the contrary caused me internal turmoil. If an important person in my life said I ‘should’ veer in a particular direction, I’ve largely done it. The result being that other people defined what should be meaningful in my life.

For example, the idea of volunteering. Do I believe volunteering is important? Absolutely. Am I out doing on the regular? I am not. I have been cajoled, prodded, coerced, and shamed into volunteering. Why? Because ‘good girls’ do it, so naturally, so should I.

What if I dissent?

Our social construct creates obstacles for those who choose to dissent. Simply, dissent means to differ in opinion. We’ve heard Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s dissents discussed this week as being written for the future. For generations to come. Interestingly, in polite society, to dissent with someone might create conflict and tension. But why?  If dissent is merely a difference in opinion, a different take on the matter, aren’t we all allowed to do so? Or does dissent remove us from the Good Girls Club?

As we talked about it yesterday, it occurred to me that boundaries, which we all need to one degree or another, are a form of dissent. A boundary is me telling you what’s ok and what’s not ok. It’s establishing a relationship parameter for the future. Yet, dissent is often seen less as a different in opinion but instead resistance or the opposition. And good girls do not engage in resistance.

If we’re living a Wholehearted Life as Brené Brown writes about in The Gifts of Imperfection, one of our Guideposts is letting go a ‘supposed to and should and cultivating meaningful work.’ I’ve been focusing on it throughout September and continue to see areas where I’ve given in to supposed to. Good girls do that.

It’s ok to not be a good girl

No, really, it’s true. Of the 7,300,000,000 (yes, that’s seven BILLION…) results that come up on Google upon entering ‘what is a good girl’ into the search bar, this one caught my eye:

             The “good girl” definition of good is to be passive, submissive and compliant. A good girl won’t be solving problems, feeding the homeless and making the world a better place. She’s good by her own twisted definition of good. And anyone who doesn’t adhere to her paradigm of goodness is most likely, in her mind, bad

Dissenting, having our own opinions, creating boundaries and a plan for ourselves does not make us bad. As women, we would do ourselves a huge favor to let go of the good girl paradigm, of ‘supposed to,’ and instead, make our own path.

We can choose Rising Strong

Using Brown’s Rising Strong process, we can have our own reckoning and consider what we feel, what emotion or false truth has hooked us and impacted our thinking and behavior. Next, we rumble, and unlike in West Side Story, nobody must die. We may be influenced by other people but choosing to go down their path was a choice. Rumbling with our choices leads to coming to grips with our responsibility in our own story…the ways we’ve put on the good girl dress and left it on. Finally, we have the revolution, our opportunity to change. To make different choices because we see our own complicity in our stories.

Integrating our learning with future choices, it’s how we move from ‘supposed to and should,’ to meaningful. How we give up the good girl persona and become our own person, one who we define and who claims her own agency. One who may dissent…and I hope we do…because the world needs our voices. We can rise strong. I believe in us. Be brave my friends. Lisa

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Why pursuing your dreams brings calm and stillness

Reminding me of the events of my life 4 years ago, Facebook shared my memories the other day of a solo trip I took to Boulder. In advance of a work meeting in Denver the following week, I made my way to the picturesque town for the weekend. Hiked like crazy, joined free yoga at a local studio, and wrote and wrote and wrote. About my life, and dreams and desires. When I returned home, I set in motion a portion of those dreams, which, in the end, were more a playing out of unfinished business. But what I desired, what I knew was calling me, I neatly packed away in the back of my mind.

Why we sideline our dreams

Because it didn’t feel safe. That particular dream would have caused me to upend my stability and venture into something new. And while my passion for it, the yearning, was strong, inertia and safety was stronger. But the dream didn’t die. Instead, it has continued to roll around inside of me, poking at me, causing anxiety and angst…for four years. Quite contrary to the calm and stillness I desired and more importantly, desire today.

So often, we trade our dreams and desire for safety. For living the stable life our parents want for us, or our spouse wants for us, that we’re told is the life we should want. At the end of the day though, who is living your life? Of course, if you have a partner, life is co-conceived, but that shared vision shouldn’t exclude the pursuit of your own dreams in addition to joint dreams. You’re allowed to have shared and separate lives. As an Enneagram 9, I ignored that for too long.

There is no time to wait

For those not familiar with the Enneagram, check it out now. How my type 9 shows up is a desire to keep the peace, to the point of putting myself aside to maintain relational peace (at least peace on the surface). What I notice is that desired peace also shows up in my relationship with myself, and taking steps towards a new path are scary, unknown, and potentially ‘unsafe’, whatever that is. While that desire for peace remains strong, I’m noticing it’s had an unexpected side effect…internal anxiety.

Knowing the path I’m longing for is within my reach and not pursuing it produces anxiety. An internal push/pull. Truly though, there is no time to wait. None of us know what will happen tomorrow, and if I wake up ten years from now without having pursued my heart’s calling, dammit I’ll be mad at myself. Seriously.

After the first step, it gets easier

Think about a new skill you learned recently. When you started, the thought of it may have been daunting. However, the longer you kept at it, the easier it became to the point where you wondered why you were intimidated in the first place. When I used to ride Double Centuries (yes in fact that is 200 miles on a bike, in one day), people would say they could never do it. Of course they could, if they wanted to. I certainly didn’t jump on my bike and go from riding zero miles to 200 in a week. It took time and practice. Only then did it become doable.

Which is exactly how we make our dreams reality. We take one step at a time. The anxiety I may (ok, do) feel rolling around inside of me this exact minute, it will dissipate. So will yours. I promise. Your dreams and desires are there for a reason. They’re pointing you in the direction you’re called to go. They are not in your mind by accident, stop treating them like they are. And yes, I’m listening too. You’ll know you’re on the right path because the farther you go the more calm and stillness you’ll have.

One step. Maybe that’s all you take today. But one will lead to another, forward motion will continue. What seems daunting and insurmountable will arrive sooner than you even expect it. But it will not if you don’t start moving. And as we realize the fruition of those dreams? Our anxiety will slip away and be replaced with the calm and stillness our wholehearted lives crave. Take a step…I’m with you my friends. Be brave. Lisa