Leave Home

"Distance and difference are the secret tonic of creativity. When we get home, home is still the same. But something in our mind has been changed, and that changes everything." 

~Jonah Lehrer

I've left home. Twice. Once in 2014 for a month-long solo cross country trip to sell my Earth's School of Love inspirational greeting cards. Again in 2015 for a two-month solo cross country book tour to promote my book, Linger Longer: Lessons from a Contemplative Life. 

Of course, I brought myself home both times, and when I did, I looked the same, I talked and laughed the same, but if you looked into my eyes, you could not find the old me. What you saw instead was every cloud, star, wave, sun and moonbeam that held me tenderly. They filled me. They caused my heart to swell. My capacity for love expanded in ways I never knew possible or available. My ego took a backseat, and humility was forged, pure and simple, as I relied on the kindnesses of strangers to answer questions, maintain my vehicle, welcome me into their Airbnb homes, buy my work, and share history lessons I never would have gotten in a book.

I beckon you to leave home. You have enough money; I did it on a shoestring. You are capable of traveling without a partner; I did it on my own. You have time; maybe you can't get away for a month, so take yourself away for an overnight, a long weekend. Drive. Take the train. A bus. Fly. Pack light. 

I promise you that the woman that returns will be bolder, brighter and more at home in the world.

Now, go!

Come As You Are

 

In The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Loving-Kindness, Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron, tells us to, "Come as you are." I used to resist stepping out of my comfort zone unless I was sure I had it right, until I was confident that I would be a master at whatever new endeavor I was attempting. But what I've learned over the years is to just show up, to start wherever I am at that moment. The magic is in the moment, and in that moment, I can choose to be fully alive and present. Fear holds me back from experiencing all that this life has to offer. Fear of failure. Fear of imperfection. Fear that you won't like me if you find out how truly inept I am. Nowhere has that fear had a bigger hold on me than in my personal relationships. I never knew how to make friends. I was so sure you weren't going to like me that I went out of my way to make sure you didn't. Once I became willing to remove the chip on my shoulder, and practice being friendly, I gained a boatload of friends. If I hadn't been willing to bring my imperfect, often socially inept self to the table, I would have missed out completely on experiencing the joys of many wonderful friendships. If I'm waiting, busily preparing my mind, my body, and my skill set, then those golden opportunities to be present in the world as the imperfect person I am, pass by. Last year, a good friend of mine helped me develop my Instagram pages. In the process, she noticed my reluctance to commit to various suggested action steps. Speaking from experience, she encouraged me to "Just do it. Do something. You can always change it." In essence, she was telling me to just "Come as you are." Start somewhere. Take this blog, for example. I don't understand all the nuances of blogging, but the point is, today, I am willing to come to the page just as I am. Today, it's not about being perfect, it's about being present.  

Notice

Volumes have been written trumpeting the practical benefits of meditation, yet all too often I hear, "I can't do it. I can't quiet my mind. It doesn't work for me." Somewhere along the spiritual continuum, a lot of folks missed the point.

I don't practice to relax. I don't practice to quiet my mind. I don't practice to become a better meditator. I practice to notice. I practice to let go, without attachment, without judgement. If you're waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect mood, the perfect cushion, clothing, music, incense, CD, you are cheating yourself out of one of the most useful tools in our wellness arsenal. 

Try this. Find a spot to sit undisturbed for a few minutes---start slow. Get comfortable. Set your timer. Close your eyes. Breathe. When the siren outside screams past, notice (don't curse), the sound. When the cat jumps into your lap, notice the sensation. When your mind revisits the argument you had with your partner last night, notice the thought. Don't judge sounds, sensations, thoughts. Don't get mad at your mind for dragging you into the past, racing you into the future. Notice, then let go, detach. Stay. Breathe. Repeat, and then repeat the process again tomorrow, and the day after that.

You can't do this wrong. You can only not do it, and in not meditating, you are depriving yourself of learning to coexist peacefully with the world around you. Practically speaking, this means, the next time another driver cuts you off in traffic, notice, do not attach, do not react. Instead of railing against a co-worker's procrastination to complete a needed task, notice your resistance, your frustration, and in that moment of noticing, choose, without malice, without judgement, the higher thought. 

Notice. Simply notice.

What's a muse to do?

Just as most of us in the United States are hungry to leave our pandemic lives behind, we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a deepening worldwide crisis. And with that crisis abroad, we here at home are witnessing historically high prices at the pumps, grocery stores and in the housing market. 

What's a footloose muse to do?

I can't curl up in a ball and refuse to participate in life. I must take care to carry on, to not succumb to despair. To do that I must give my creative life all the opportunities it needs to thrive. I must pick up the creative tools I have available to write, paint, sing, dance, cook, and photograph my way out of the dismay, fear and confusion.

I have a voice; you have one, too. I have God-given talents, and you do as well. Now is the time to use our gifts to brighten, lighten, inform, enliven, to soften the rough and hard edges the world is up against. Take an artist date. Take an hour or two and visit a museum, an art supply store, a gallery. Go hang out in the kids' aisle at the bookstore. Go and allow your senses to come alive with color, good humor, and beauty.

Treat your creativity like the prayer it is.

How Dare You Not Shine?

Before my mom passed away in 2016, she told me that when I was a young girl, I attended creative writing classes after school. I have no recollection of such classes, instruction, or assignments. I do know that writing has always come second nature to me. Whether a term paper for school, a thesis for graduate school, a short story, poem, a marketing piece, if wordsmithing was involved, I was in my element. I became an English major in college because I liked to read and I could write, and I had no interest in nursing. Where I came from, those were the two career options most young women pursued. I was an art minor in college with a concentration in photography. I penned two books of informational nonfiction during the ten years I was not drinking alcohol (between 1989 and 1999), was a columnist for a national trade magazine for two years, earned a Masters of Fine Arts degree, and did all kinds of creative things. The minute I picked up a drink in 2000, I ceased to write another word, and the camera got buried behind some cardboard boxes in a closet under the stairs. It took five years, once I got sober, to recall, to remember that I was an artist, that I had God-given talents. I get to spend a month in Arizona a few years ago, in this blue chair, with the light streaming in, writing, crafting another book. I don't know many of you who are reading this today, but I will tell you one thing: I am not unique. You, too, have been given gifts, talents, skills that the world needs. What are they? What's holding you back from following your heart's desire? Fear? Of what? Failure? That you're not good enough? Trust me when I tell you, you are brilliance. You are a beacon. How dare you not shine?

Start Where You Are

A very long time ago, in what seems like another lifetime, I decided to start a clothing company. Aptly named after my firstborn daughter, Katherine's of Kingston, was supposed to be a custom collection of simple, whimsical, colorful dresses for toddlers and little girls designed and manufactured by me and a handful of University of Rhode Island textile majors. Slam dunk, right? Could of, should of, been. What derailed my business plan was my inability to start. More specifically, my inability to start where I was. Married to a custom home builder at the time, I convinced him that I needed a bonafide sewing room, and he was only too happy to oblige. Needs were assessed. Measurements were taken. Blueprints drawn up. Trim was fabricated. Colors were selected. By the time dozens of cones of serger sewing machine threads were systematically color-coded and arranged in a custom built-in cabinet, I had already moved on to painting floorcloths, and the bolts of fabric I had stockpiled grew dusty and faded. Distractions diverted me from my primary purpose. Today, I know better. Whether it's taking up a running practice, or yoga, or photography, I can just show up as is.  I don't need fancy shoes, mats, the newest equipment. All I truly need is an open heart and the willingness to be a beginner every day.