Monkeys on a Mission

Last Sunday, the service at our church was about the current economic climate and what we as Unitarian Universalists can do about it. One of the members of the church worked for many years as an economist in Washington, DC, and she offered a sermon full of both eye-opening statistics about salary and wealth distribution in the US (and how the government generates these statistics) and thought-provoking questions about what those statistics mean on a human, emotional level.

After the sermon, we had a short discussion. Several people got up to speak and expressed opinions about the current economic situation. The woman who gave the sermon then asked, “But what are some things that we as individuals can do to help the situation?”

Crickets. (Figurative crickets. It was still January in New England.)

As we sang our last hymn, I thought of someone right here in our state who is working to make a difference on an individual level.

A few months ago, my friend Melanie launched Monkeys on a Mission. Each month, she chooses a group in need  that she’d like to help and invites others to assist her. For her first mission, she made sock monkeys to send to children who were displaced by the wildfires in Texas. For her second, she collected books (and donations to buy books) for Youth and Family Services in Worcester, Massachusetts. This month, she’s making and collecting handmade caps for homeless veterans.

I’ve been watching the action on her blog and her Facebook Page with interest. Detached interest, accompanied by only a passing, “Maybe one month, if something really speaks to me, I’ll help out.”

But after this Sunday’s service I knew I wanted to do a little something, too.

This week, I dipped into my ample yarn stash (I find that I can either complete yarn-related projects or buy yarn for them, but rarely can I accomplish both) and crocheted two hats!

I am, frankly, amazed. During my crafting of these caps, I was hampered not just by my children (who kept attempting to try on the hats at the completion of each new row, singing the pinball song from Sesame Street while I tried to count stitches, and running off with my ball of yarn at every opportunity, weaving around chairs, tables, and cats as they went), but by my critical mind.

“This hat isn’t going to be warm enough. This is New England. You should really line it with fleece or make a second hat and sew it inside this one. But if you stop to do that, you’re never going to finish the hat. This hat is ugly anyway. No one’s going to want to wear it, but they will because they don’t have anything else. Why should they have to wear an ugly hat just because they’re homeless? It’s just a drop in the bucket anyway. Why bother?”

All of my recent meditation practice must have kicked in, though. I fought the urge to argue with the voice and just let her yammer on. I tuned her out and just kept crocheting.

But her goading does lead me to wonder: Why should the fear of not doing “enough” be a reason for doing nothing?

Theoretically, if each of us did a small kindness, these things would add up.

“That’s how the miracle of the loaves and fishes happened,” our minister suggested a couple of weeks ago. “People had brought food for themselves for the day, and when they shared what they had, they found there was enough for everyone.”

So, ugly or not (I actually don’t think they’re ugly), warm or not (I’m not sure about this one), I’ve made these hats. At best, maybe two people who’ve fought for our country will feel a little more cozy for the rest of the winter. At worst, well, maybe making the hats and giving them away has helped to open my heart a little bit and help me see the possibility in doing little things.

But as insurance, I’m blogging about Melanie and her project so I can, perhaps, recruit others to do a small part, too, so I can feel like my contribution is part of a bigger collective contribution.

I’m also blogging about this because I just want to say that Melanie and her Monkey Missions totally rock.

If you’d like to make a hat or two, she’s still collecting them until February 6th. You can find her e-mail on her blog. If you don’t crochet or knit, she can e-mail you a pattern for an easy fleece hat. And if you can’t help with this Monkey Mission, there’s always next month.

Oh, and a minor miracle: I began the second hat with a partial skein of green yarn. When I finished the last stitch, this is what was left:

I definitely have to get this miracle hat to a veteran. Or at least to Melanie and let her get it to a veteran.

On Overcoming a Jinx

Between this family and my Jinx, my meditation schedule last week didn't stand a chance. (Image via Wikipedia)

My religious upbringing was eclectic and firmly based in Murphy’s Law, or perhaps more accurately, on The Jinx.

If we were driving to grandpa’s house, we were never allowed to say, “Wow! We’re making great time!” because that was essentially asking for a flat tire or a freak hail storm or giant griffins descending from the heavens to sharpen their claws on the roof of our station wagon.

By the same token, we’d never say, “I feel great!” or “Things are going so well right now!” or “We’re definitely on for knitting circle this week!” or “The baby seems to be settling into a routine.” (I’ve never had occasion to use that last one).

So, I should have known that my declaration last week that I loved meditating and that getting up at 4:30 had not only been easier than expected, it rocked, and I loved washing my face in cold water to wake myself up, and wasn’t life grand now that I’d found the secret to happiness? would be immediately followed by a period of meditative stagnation.

What does meditative stagnation look like? In the past five days, I’ve watched eleven hours of The Tudors and eaten three tubs of hummus (small tubs, but tubs nonetheless).

While the meditation program I’m following doesn’t specifically prohibit those actions, I find that doing those things consumes most of the time I might otherwise be meditating.

I didn’t drop the plan entirely, but it was faltering badly enough, I was worried I might not be able to pick it back up. But this weekend, I was able to sneak in both meditation and yoga. I’m not going to tempt fate and call it a comeback, but this morning I got up at 4:30 again and didn’t even go back to bed after yoga (not for lack of trying, though. I was apparently not sleepy enough to lose consciousness with my toddler snuggled next to me singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” at full volume and pausing to sweetly tell me that he loves my hair (“I wuv your hair, Mommy. [pet, pet] What co-wor your hair, Mommy?”)).

So, that was Week 4.

On to Week 5!

For Weeks 5 and 6, I’m taking a break from the body scan and focusing instead on yoga and sitting meditation.

Each day, I will alternate 45-60 minutes of yoga with up to 45 minutes of sitting meditation. Today was yoga. Yesterday was sitting meditation, during which my right foot fell into a profound sleep and my body attempted to follow. The sudden awareness of gravity jerked me awake a number of times. The fear of braining myself on the brick fireplace behind me was apparently only enough to keep me awake for a few moments.

But even with my lapse last week, I am ready to recommit to the program. There are only nine episodes of The Tudors left, so that temptation will be gone soon, so I have that much going for me.

This time, however, I’ll be more cautious about how much I talk it up. No need to tempt fate.

Related articles

• Yogariffic (With Kids!) (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• Week 3: Still Sitting (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• Mindfulness Meditation, Week 1 of 8: Done (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)

A Letter from Myself (to Myself)

I’ve been having trouble with my meditation schedule this week, and I’ve been feeling bad about that. But I’ve also, for reasons I couldn’t pinpoint, been thinking about Marion Woodman’s Addiction to Perfection. When I took a look back at my review of the book, I think I’ve got a better understanding of why it’s been in my head this week.

About balance and perfection (from the book review):

-Perfection is static, unlike life which is constantly changing and moving. Therefore, perfection is more closely related to death than it is to life, and the pursuit of perfection can be seen as the unconscious pursuit of death.

-When we begin the transition from an overly masculine psyche to a more integrated and balanced psyche, we can expect to pass through turmoil and fear before we attain the balance and peace on the other side.

That last, if true, could be why I’m having trouble now with my meditation practice when it was going so swimmingly just last week.

So, today I’m quoting myself and inviting you to look at what else I wrote more than a year ago about Woodman’s book, perfection, and the quest for balance. It’s like my past self wrote a letter to my present self. Which is kind of cool.

It seems that, while I thought my Bold Plan for 2012 was a new direction, I’ve actually been traveling the same path all along. It’s just a very long path.

Book Review: Addiction to Perfection by Marion Woodman, Imperfect Happiness November 2010

Yogariffic (With Kids!)

I can’t decide if doing yoga with kids is better than not doing yoga at all.

The last couple of days have thrown me for a bit of a loop. I’m very surprised that I’ve not resorted to setting the kids in front of Dinosaur Train with a giant bowl of popcorn (for them) and opening a bottle of organic sulfite-free cabernet sauvignon (for me). We did bake cupcakes and made an unscheduled stop at Trader Joe’s for five tubs of hummus (and a few bottles of wine. And they didn’t card me, even though their sign clearly states they card everyone. I tried not to feel insulted).

Funny how the stressful times when a meditation practice might be particularly helpful are also the times when working meditation into my schedule is the most challenging.

I missed my evening sitting meditation last night and my AM yoga today. Determined not to lose my momentum entirely, I did a yoga CD (Lauren Peterson with music by Deva Premal…pretty nice) with the kids this afternoon.

Here’s a recap:

“Mommy, look! I can reach my foot!”

“Mommy, I really like the cat tilt and the dog tilt.”

“Mommy, why do you get to use the yoga strap?”

“Mommy, why are you turning up the volume?”

“Mommy, we’ve been doing this for a really long time.”

“Mommy, how much longer are we going to lie here?”

“Mommy, with this eye pillow, even with my eyes open it’s totally dark!”

“Mommy, I want something to put on my eyes.” (this last was my toddler while his sister and I were in Savasana. He then stole my glasses and ran across the room with them, banking on the fact that I wouldn’t be able/willing to leap up and stop him from my lying-on-the-floor-on-my-back position. Then he came back saying, “I put them on you, Mommy,” which caused me to open my eyes in time to see a blurry image of my son coming at my face with the pointy ends of my glasses.)

Include in this a toddler pushing my legs down in halasana and the cat walking between my feet and rubbing his face on my head in prasarita padottanasana (yes, I’m tossing around Sanskrit. Because I need to have something to show for the weeks I spent in yoga teacher training. And also because I’m cool).

But I did the whole (abbreviated) practice and even on a couple of occasions felt somewhat relaxed.

Opening a bottle of wine while cooking pancakes for dinner also helped.

Week 3: Still Sitting

I was going to say I was “still standing,” but since I’ve not tried walking meditation yet, most of my Bold Plan involves sitting or lying down. Or doing yoga, which I very gratefully added this week. I had no idea how much my body needed to stretch until I started doing it!

Here’s what I’ve done so far:

WEEK 1:

30-45 minute Body Scan meditation in the morning

WEEK 2:

30-45 minute Body Scan meditation in the morning

10 minutes of sitting meditation in the evening

WEEK 3:

Alternate 30-45 minute Body Scan meditation with 45 minutes of gentle yoga in the morning

20 minutes of sitting meditation in the evening

Be aware of and write down one pleasant experience from the day

Today is the last day of Week 3. Week 4 will be just like Week 3, except instead of writing down one pleasant experience from the day, I’ll be aware of and write down on unpleasant experience from the day.

All of this is based on Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Full Catastrophe Living, which is the book he wrote outlining the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Program he pioneered at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. If you follow that link, you can find MBSR programs around the country. While I’m doing the program on my own now, I did start out in the live classes, and I think that’s probably the best way to be introduced to MBSR (although it’s probably more effective not to move across the country halfway through like I did).

In future posts, I’ll write in more detail what each of these steps entail (body scan, sitting meditation, yoga) as far as recordings and props go, in case you’re thinking of trying a meditation practice at home. Or maybe you just like details. Or maybe you’ll just choose to skip those posts. Whatever’s fine.

For now, this is what I’ve been up to.

As I mentioned yesterday, I really am enjoying myself. It doesn’t feel “Wow! This is amazing!” It just feels comfortable.

Related articles

A surprisingly good mainstream article about mindfulness meditation and Jon Kabat-Zinn:

• Mind Reading: Jon Kabat-Zinn Talks About Bringing Mindfulness Meditation to Medicine (healthland.time.com)

Posts by me about My Bold Plan:

• My Bold Plan for 2012 (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• A Different Kind of Hedonism (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• Mindfulness and Social Media: Reflections on the First Three Days of My Bold Plan (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• Mindfulness Meditation, Week 1 of 8: Done (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• The Mindful Path to Perfection: You’re Already There (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• On Staying the Course (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)

A Different Kind of Hedonism

Another thing I find fun: dark-eyed juncos at the bird feeder! (Call me anhedonic, will he?)

When I mention my meditation schedule/routine (my Bold Plan) to people, they all say—after a stunned silence— “Wow. That’s really ambitious.”

Until very recently, I didn’t really see what was that ambitious about it. Then the other day a friend asked how the routine looked day-to-day, how did I make it work with the kids and homeschooling and everything?

“Well, I get up with my husband between 4:30 and 5 every morning. I go to the bathroom and wash my face with cold water to wake myself up. Brush my teeth. Then I go down to the basement to meditate or do yoga. I leave the thermostat at 58 if I meditate so I don’t get too sleepy. If I’m doing yoga, I turn it up to 62…”

At this point she stopped me.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

I hadn’t even gotten to the evening meditation.

In that moment I heard my words from her perspective. And I realized that I was describing a fairly monastic existence. All I’m missing is the guy coming by and whacking me with a stick when I start to slouch during sitting meditation.

And I started to laugh.

Because, you know what? I love this schedule. It wasn’t immediately easy, and I still feel resistant to it at times, but it just feels right. It’s like I’ve been waiting for it and here it is. It’s like coming home.

The other day when I told my husband that I thought watching television in general and watching professional sports in particular was a waste of time, he accused me of being anhedonic. I started to disagree with him, but I realize that if splashing cold water on my face before sunrise is my idea of fun, I don’t have much support for my counter-argument.

But I’m cool with that. I’m feeling happy. I’m having fun, even when I’m not meditating. I’m excited to embrace each new challenge this project brings me. And I don’t have any great ambition to lead a hedonistic lifestyle. Which is good because not many hedonistic things happen before 9:00. Not on the East Coast, anyway.

Related articles

• On Staying the Course (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• Mindfulness Meditation, Week 1 of 8: Done (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• The Mindful Path to Perfection: You’re Already There (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)

The Mindful Path to Perfection: You’re Already There

“In moments of stillness you come to realize that you are already whole, already complete in your being…”

-Jon Kabat-Zinn

I have a tendency to dwell a lot on perfection. I have something of a conviction that things would be easier if I were flawless. Even when I run through the logical extremes of this kind of perfection and realize that even perfection isn’t without flaw, I still crave that state of never-erring.

In a very kind note Duane Elgin sent to me, he pointed out that another definition of “perfect” is more along the lines of complete, pure, total.

Yet another definition is having both pistils and stamens in the the same flower, so clearly not all definitions apply, but this “perfection as wholeness” definition really resonates with me, especially as I’m getting deeper into my meditation practice.

In Full Catastrophe Living, Jon Kabat-Zinn writes, “In moments of stillness you come to realize that you are already whole, already complete in your being…” In this sense, the purpose of meditation isn’t to relax or to stop yelling at my kids or to change anything at all. The purpose is to give myself a chance to recognize that I’m already whole. If more good comes from that, it’s just icing on the cake.

In the body scan meditation CD I have, Kabat-Zinn assures the listener that, “from the perspective of mindfulness practice, as long as you are breathing there’s more right with you than wrong with you, no matter what the condition of your body and its history and no matter what you are facing in this moment.”

It occurs to me that those things that never err are those things that are static, unchanging, dead.

I’m breathing. I’m living. I’m changing, whether I intend to change or not. In that sense, I’m not perfect.

But I exist in this moment, whole and complete. And if I come to recognize this wholeness through meditation or mindfulness or some other means, I’ll not only be breathing, I’ll be living.

And it doesn’t get much more perfect than that.

Reading List

I decided that during this lull in my posting frequency I’d take this opportunity to suggest some other great blogs for you to read and enjoy!

This is just the list of blogs I follow closely (like, go out of my way to read everything that’s posted as soon as possible after it’s posted). And I’ve listed them alphabetically because that seemed the most egalitarian. Actually, that’s probably not egalitarian at all. But then, picking five blogs from the millions of blogs out there isn’t really egalitarian anyway. If you promise to read the list to the end, that’s probably the best way to wring as much equality out of this whole endeavor as possible.

Enjoy!

Forgeover:

Tucker and Victoria and their two kids sold practically everything they owned, quit their jobs, and otherwise bucked convention in order to live a long-time dream of living aboard their sailing vessel, s/v Convivia. This blog chronicles both the journey from land life to boat living and the journey that’s now underway as they travel about, living their dreams and having a blast while they’re at it.

Live your Bliss:

Leigh and her wife, Helena, sold everything, bucked convention (notice a trend?), and moved to Brazil two years ago to open a raw foods retreat center. I’ve been following this blog for as long as it’s been up, I think. I highly recommend going back to the first posts to learn about the decisions that led up to the Big Decision to move south. Those posts in particular I found very inspiring. Now Leigh and Helena are embarking upon a journey of another type entirely (which you can read about on Helena’s blog, Helena’s Healing Circle). This is the only blog I follow that is written by someone I’ve never met in real life. I think this says something for the quality of the writing and the compelling nature of the story Leigh tells.

Sanity for Stacy:

Stacy is a mom of four who teaches violin and homeschools and just in general lives it up in the mountains above Salt Lake City. Her writing is hilarious and insightful, and I firmly believe I would read her blog even if she hadn’t been the doula at my son’s birth (although I might not have found it).

Something Made Different:

I’ve envied Jenny’s writing style since we were in seventh grade together. She always wrote the funnest, quirkiest notes (and she won second place in the writing contest in which I only won fifth. But no one remembers that now). She teaches archaeology in Tucson now. I remember the day in eighth grade when we were swimming at her neighborhood pool and she declared that she was going to be an archaeologist. Or was it just that she thought Indiana Jones (or maybe just River Phoenix) was hot? I can’t remember now. Either way, it involved reenacting a scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and it seems prescient in retrospect. The only complaint I have with her blog is that she’s not been blogging so often lately. Maybe praising her publicly will inspire her to write more frequently (or will, perhaps, embarrass her and make her less likely to post in the future. In which case, check out her archives. Actually, check out her archives anyway. And if you can find the link to her dormant dog blog, “dog in progress,” definitely click it (it’s the bottom link in the right-hand column…I won’t give you the direct link because I want you to visit Something Made first). Start at the earliest posts. You will laugh until you cry, I promise).

TouchstoneZ:

Zoie wasn’t planning on becoming a mama, but when that’s the path she saw in front of her, she took off on it wholeheartedly. The journey has been a rocky one sometimes, and Zoie bares her soul in every post, confronting issues of depression and compassion and grief and choosing the path that’s chosen you. She’s also a warm and devoted supporter of other people’s writing. I seriously don’t know how she keeps up with all of the blogs she reads, but I’m glad she does because it means I don’t have to…I just check out what she’s reading and tweeting and pick and choose when I have time to read.

So, there’s my blog reading list. There are a few others I check all of the time, but they’re friends’ family blogs, and I’m not sure they have universal appeal. There are others that I check every now and then and love, but they aren’t in this reading list because I don’t check them ALL the time.

Regardless, they’re all listed in my blog roll, so peruse over there if you’re looking for even more to read.

Possession Identity

“Between what a man calls me and what he simply calls mine the line is difficult to draw. We feel and act about certain things that are ours very much as we feel and act about ourselves.”

— William James

This is today’s Moment of Happiness from Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project.

I remember times in my life when my sense of identity was very much tied up with objects.

My first car was a 1983 Volvo 240DL wagon. My parents had bought it new when I was 6 years old and I remembered how huge the backseat had seemed and how smooth the vinyl upholstery was under my legs. I learned to drive on that car (and I taught my husband how to drive stick on it) and it just kind of became mine during my sophomore year of college. That car was blue, and she was boxy. She handled like crap in the snow (rear-wheel drive), and I could fit an entire full-size mattress in the trunk if I put the back seat down. Two friends and I slept in the back when we went to Halloween at Ohio University one year because we were afraid we’d be puked on if we slept in the house where we were staying.  When I sold that car, I cried.

In college, there was a professor who was trying to quit smoking by only buying cigarettes one at a time for a quarter each from the smokers clustered outside the academic buildings before and after classes. One day, I was smoking with a couple of other people before Brit Lit when this professor came out of the building, surveying the scene.

“Ah!” he said when he saw me. “A Camel smoker!”

I traded him a smoke for a quarter and thought to myself, “A Camel smoker…yes, that’s what I am.”

I’ve not smoked in 15 years and it’s been nearly 10 years since I said farewell to that Volvo. I think I’ve loosened my attachment to things in the intervening years, but when I give up clothes or when I consider buying a different car (I’m still driving the car that replaced the Volvo, by the way), I still think, “Who am I if I don’t wear this item, if I don’t drive this car?”

In a slight shift from that, as a mother, I realize I’ve begun to base my identity on my relationship with my children. While one could argue that defining oneself by one’s relationships to living people is perhaps a little healthier than defining oneself by the brand of cigarettes one smokes (for more reasons than one), it still doesn’t take into account who I am on my own (or, for that matter, who my children are separate from me).

Who are we on our own, unattached to people or things? Is this why we cling so tenaciously to possessions and people and social media? Are we afraid of who we’ll meet when we’re all alone in the quiet? Is that what I’m afraid of?

On Staying the Course

Ah, I have reached the familiar point in my attempt to implement a daily meditation practice at which I realize that what I really want is to live entirely on the banks of the endless stream of thought and judgment and influx of stimuli rather than getting mired in it on a daily basis.

It’s the point at which I think that it sure would be easier if my mind were already serene, if in every moment a beatific smile rested lightly on my lips, and only the kindest, most truthful, most necessary words passed from those lips. It would also be easier if my children would allow me to sleep through the night so eight hours in bed actually had a chance of translating to eight hours of sleep.

It’s the point at which I realize that any of these things is incredibly unlikely to happen, no matter how much meditating I do.

It’s the point at which I wonder if it’s even worth the trouble of getting to bed early and waking up before dawn, evading my children while attempting to rouse myself by washing my face in cold water, brushing my teeth, stretching, and leaving the heat below 60 just to pass out while listening to a meditation CD and distant whinging every morning.

But it’s only Day 10. I’ve got 46 more days to go of just following the Plan while reserving judgment. In seven weeks I’ll open the floodgates and judge away. For now, I’m just staying the course and trying not to let my resistance to adding one more thing to my to-do list get the better of me.

Related articles

• Mindfulness Meditation, Week 1 of 8: Done (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)
• My Bold Plan for 2012 (imperfecthappiness.wordpress.com)