Words of Wisdom

Words of Wisdom...

Not from me, of course. These are words I've been gathering, like wild flowers for a field bouquet. If you've been reading my blog this year, then you've probably gathered that I'm doing a lot of reconfiguring of my life and my brain. When I get into this mode, I tend to try to saturate my mind with words of wisdom from as many different sources as possible. I read books and blogs and articles; I listen to music and interviews and guided meditations and TED talks. When something catches my attention and makes me pause, I write it down...or, more often, I type it into the reminders on my phone. And then I look at it again and again, trying to absorb it in a way that makes it a part of me.

And I am hard-core in this mode right now. Hard. Core.

So, as I procrastinate working on my novel, I thought I'd share some of these little nuggets, these words of wisdom, with you all. Maybe they'll speak to you, too...

Be still and know. This is a pretty common one. I've heard it from a lot of sources, most recently, Glennon Doyle Melton. I think it's such a wonderful reminder to slow down, get quiet, and realize that the answers we seek are inside of us, if we just take the time to listen. The answers don't always come right away, but they do come if you give them the space. (I think this is why we often have epiphanies in the shower. For some of us, that's the only time we give ourselves some peace.)

The other day, I sat staring at a piece of art I'm working on and I had no clue what to do next. Instead of trying to force it, I just gave it space. Later that day I saw something that sparked an idea and I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted do next with the piece. The same thing happened when working on math with my daughter. I was explaining how to do something and it just wasn't clicking for her. So we stopped. That night while I was laying quietly in bed with her, I suddenly knew how to explain the math problems in a way she'd understand. The next day, I used my new method and, Boom!, she got it.

It works for the big life questions, too. And the moments when you feel your emotions taking off in a disproportionate way. About to explode? Take a step back. Be still. And know. (If you do this, you achieve bonus words of wisdom. These are from Maya Angelou-- When we know better, we do better. When we take the time to be still and know, it shows up in our actions.)

The only way to live is to forgive yourself constantly for being human. This is also from Glennon. And, seriously folks, these are such excellent words for perfectionists! Every one of us Type-A's should be repeating this to ourselves all day long. Every time you make a mistake. Every time you err (which is human, I'm told). Every time you don't live up to your own expectations (the root of most pain, by the way...those pesky expectations). Just pause and forgive yourself. For you are human, not machine; and perfection is a myth.

Pain is a traveling professor. Also from Glennon. (I just re-listened to an interview she did with Oprah, while folding laundry last week-- she and Oprah were not folding laundry...they were talking, I was folding-- so it's all really fresh in my mind; but this explanation, which is also in her book, Love Warrior, is one of the best I've ever heard.) It goes something like this...Most of us run from pain. We try to push it away or deny it or stuff it down or mask it or medicate it. (I like to eat it.) But what we really need to do is embrace it. Because pain is a traveling professor, here to teach us something. She says we need to invite it in and tell it not to leave until it's taught us what we need to learn.

This is one of those concepts that I get, but I know that I don't really GET, yet. But I'm working on it. Here's what I'm trying to do: You know I've been struggling with anxiety for the last few months. Well, I'm trying to look at this anxiety as a traveling professor. I genuinely believe that the anxiety is here for a reason. I wasn't doing what I needed to do, so the anxiety came along to get my attention and force change. The anxiety is here to show me the way. So, I'm trying to follow it. I was doing better, but it spiked again a few weeks ago, so I'm trying to see that as a flag and change what needs to be changed. (To be clear, the anxiety itself is bad and needs to be told to go away; but it is also a messenger. So I grab the message and then send it back out on the road.) I think that once I get the lesson, once I learn everything this anxiety has to teach me, this particular professor will leave.

Just keep doing what feels most joyful. This is from Martha Beck. I just finished listening to her book Finding Your North Star, (It's long, but totally worth it.) and these words of wisdom jumped out at me immediately. I think this should be the litmus test for just about every choice we make. What should I do? Where should I go? Who should I spend my time with? The answer is: do what feels most joyful; go where you feel most joyful; be with whom you feel most joyful. When in doubt, follow your joy. 

Break it down into turtle steps. I mentioned these words of wisdom, also from Martha Beck, in my last post because it speaks directly to my life right now. I am facing the massive task of third round revisions on one of my novels and I keep freezing up because I get overwhelmed by the sheer mass of what I have to do. Martha recommends breaking down anything big into the tiniest possible steps forward. She calls these turtle steps. For me, this means committing to at least 15 minutes a day of work on the book--it usually turns into more, but the smaller tasks help un-freeze me. There's a reason we've all heard some version of this advice before...because it's true. You got to break it down.

This is much worse than I expected, and that's okay. Martha breaks down the undertaking of finding and following our north star into 4 phases and she gives each of these phases a mantra. This is one of them and, weirdly, it makes me smile. Her approach is, basically, to speak the cold, hard truth and then follow it with the phrase "and that's okay." In this case, the idea is to look at whatever difficult or awful thing you're facing and bless it. Whatever it is, it's okay. You're okay.

Here's my current favorite example for using this one: The physicality of getting older is much worse than I expected...and that's okay. It's weighing on me big time, y'all. I am feeling the full weight of my age (possibly because my birthday is literally knocking on my door and I'm hiding under the covers yelling, "Go away! Nobody's home!" like the scared little bitch that I am). My body aches, and my stomach is pudging out with all those snacks I'm eating this winter, and my skin is all a weird hella mess, and my face looks a bit like someone drove a piece of heavy machinery over it...it is NO BUENO! And I know that this is just the physical form that my soul has on loan for this life on earth, BUT DUDE! I. JUST. CAN'T. EVEN.

And that's okay.

Sigh. Still working on that one.

The sooner you get through your first 5000 mistakes, the sooner you can move on to your next 5000. I so wish someone had drilled this one into me when I was younger. Such wisdom in these words, which actually come from Martha Beck's college art teacher, I think. The fear of making mistakes often paralyzes us. But the truth is, mistakes are how we learn, how we grow, how we live. And we never stop making them. We never get to the point where there are no more mistakes. We just go from making rookie mistakes to making the mistakes of a master. So get over it. Get to doing whatever it is you need to be doing, because the sooner you make your first 5000 mistakes, the sooner you can move onto your next 5000. (Love that.)

Everything is changing, and that's okay. Another North Star phase mantra from Martha. And since life is constant change, and so many of us waste so much time fighting the inevitable, I thought I'd share these words. I always say that as soon as I get something just right, as soon as I figure something out, everything changes and I have to start all over. As soon as I get the house just how I want it, we move. As soon as I figure out a kid stage, they move on to the next one. Life is constant change. And that's okay. Just roll with it. And follow the joy.

Until next time, be still and know; forgive yourself; embrace the pain; do what feels joyful; break it down; and make mistakes. Because it's all okay.

Namaste.