No one could have prepared me for the beauty of Ecuador. Wherever I turn the vista is extraordinary. The pictures barely capture the awe that we’re experiencing. Going on vacation is the refresh I so needed.
As if the landscape weren’t humbling enough, I faced my fear to ride a horse to a rushing waterfall. While approaching the cascade, having dismounted the mare, I slipped on the mud. My ego was wounded the most, the slide slightly slowing me down in the afternoon. Nonetheless, I have no regrets. The landscape is gorgeous. The hospitality throughout has been most accommodating.
Sometimes we need a touch of humility in paradise.
If you can go on a vacation, enjoy the surrounding beauty. If you’re not able to get away, travel blogs and far-off location books can transport you for moments or hours.
Do something that scares you a little, but not so much that you’re terrified. As you partake in the activity, notice how the fear can be mixed with other emotions, including pleasure.
Even if it can feel uncomfortable, when appropriate, admit when you’re wrong. It can feel like a release from silent defensiveness.
Though cards, commercials, and media would have us romanticize motherhood, the truth is Mother’s Day can be stressful for so many. Whether families grapple with mental illness, death, physical illness, the court systems, mismatched needs of child/mother, in-law drama, or whether there are reproductive issues, or other circumstances that make the day difficult, allow for kindness and caring while enduring the day.
My Mother’s Day started out with a tepid shower. Very unsatisfying. I was looking forward to a longer, indulgent shower, washing my hair, and deciding which light aroma of my foam soaps I might choose today. Instead, it was a quick and uncomfortable in and out. I cursed while drying off. But my coffee was ready and it’s delicious.
Can I move from one moment to the next without holding on to upsets? That is my challenge, as it has been for a long time. Will I be able to feel the abundance in my life rather than focusing on what isn’t happening today? I will do my best.
As I go through this day marked to celebrate parenting, for better or worse, I think I will focus on reparenting. Reparenting is treating ourselves with loving kindness, employing patience, and compassion. It’s part of my daily mindful practice. And, thank goodness it’s a practice since I haven’t, nor do I expect to, perfect loving kindness. It’s an imperfect practice. We’re imperfect, worthy of love and continued care in all our states. So, I wish you a Happy Reparenting Day, no matter your relationship to motherhood.
Write down at least three things for which you are grateful. Gratitude journaling supports a feeling of abundance.
Soothe your senses. Choose a fragrance, stretch, listen to beautiful music, or eat something delicious. It’s a small, kind gift to delight your senses,
Find a meme, card, affirmation or anything that acknowledges your worthiness.
Life isn’t linear. I had always hoped I’d solve what I considered to be my problems, and then live a quality life. The truth is that we revisit issues time and time again. Even when we think we’ve beat it, it will show up unexpectedly. Perhaps it’s why the movie Groundhog’s Day resonates for so many of us.
We are trained early to think that we’ve failed if we have to repeat lessons. In school if we fail a grade, it must be repeated. We are not taught that relearning is nothing shameful. It would be much more helpful should we be told that repeating grades can be as useful as moving ahead. Can we learn that somethings bear repeating?
I have a difficult time learning steps. Dance classes did not come easily. I much prefer workouts that don’t include dancing. Yet, I love dancing on my own, when I can move my body to the music. In some cases, not on the beat, but with the mood rather than the tempo, I feel joyous. That joy is robbed when specific steps are introduced. I go into my head and my physical attunement goes out the door.
That doesn’t stop me from trying to learn. Luckily at this age I can laugh at my difficulties, at least as far as dancing is concerned. Of course, there are other lessons that I continue to struggle with, even if I understand what might help make it easier.
I put together a Seder for our small family. I didn’t over prepare. And I kept telling myself that I should write a list. I never did. I had forgotten to open the horseradish, which I then couldn’t find. I looked everywhere in the refrigerator. Larry kindly volunteered to go out and get a new jar. He had to walk a few blocks since we don’t live close to a food store. This all happened when we were about to begin our short Seder. During clean-up we found the horseradish on the counter where I left it to open it before the meal. Also, the spinach remained in the oven forgetting that, too.
It all worked out. We enjoyed the spinach yesterday. But I know myself. Through the years I’ve come to find that I am well-served keeping lists. Yet I refused to create one for Passover. The forgotten foods were a needed reminder that lists help me.
I will continue to face issues, big and small, that seemingly repeat again and again. While I used to berate myself for what I could or “should” know., now I am grateful that I can learn from ostensibly familiar mistakes. It may seem like the same old issue, but it is new in this never lived before time and space.
Try something that might seem difficult for you. See how it feels. Follow it by something that seems easy, and compare the sensations you experience, and the emotional response to what comes easy as opposed to what is more challenging.
Keep lists if you like. They are a terrific tool. It feels gratifying to cross thigs off your list as you complete them
When faced with a familiar life lesson, keep it in the present. In the same way you have never breathed that breath before, see if you can be in the moment with something that tends to take your mind into the past. Notice what is new or different in this
It was the summer of 1979. Thanks to a student loan I was in Paris studying French, which I didn’t retain and Art History, which I preserved with many future visits to museums. I felt so cosmopolitan sipping a café au lait while enjoying a freshly baked croissant before classes began. We sat at a café off of the Jardin du Luxembourg. Half the day was spent in classes. By afternoon I was walking for hours getting to know the city of lights.
Those were the highlights. Yet there was so much I didn’t know. Back in our dorm room we had a bidet. I was too insecure to ask how to use it or what it was for. I thought, since we were in a women’s dorm, that it was a douche. What I knew about douches I learned in Summer’s Eve commercials back in New Jersey. When my roommates from other college exchange programs asked if I knew how to use it. I lied. I said, “Yes.” Not knowing seemed as if it wasn’t an option for me.
As memorable as the summer of “79 was, I recall my insecurities as much as I remember the amazing gifts of that European summer. Over 40 years later and I still recall what my wonderful art history professor taught us every time I go on walks, recognizing the architecture. Or, appreciating a painting in a gallery or museum because of what she imparted in our classes and tours. I’m also currently enjoying the marvels of a bidet in our New York City apartment. It’s not a separate structure as it was in Paris. It’s attached to our toilet, a wonderful addition from Tushy. I use less toilet paper, reveling in the simplicity of continental hygiene. The focused stream of water cleans up beautifully.
I may now know what a bidet is and how I can use it effectively, but over the years I have learned to admit what I don’t know. I’d rather learn and grow than pretend that I’m more knowledgeable so someone else won’t judge me. We lose ground when we make believe we’re smarter than we are. I compromised my learning curve and the breadth of joy while in Paris because I couldn’t admit what I didn’t know. Thank goodness I know better now.
Think of something you have wanted to know or learn. Look it up. Or ask a friend about it. It feels nice to understand what we didn’t know before.
Make time to laugh. Do it purposefully. And laugh with abandon.
Be open to be inspired. Keep an open mind and go about your day. Whether you anticipate it from a known teacher, or whether it comes in an unexpected moment, being willing to be inspired is the open invitation to wonder and awe.
Hello spring, you couldn’t come soon enough. We’ve all needed to lighten our loads. And what better way to start than by taking off our parkas? Like the shining moon hidden under the clouds, you’ve come from behind the cold for renewed hope.
The warmer weather feels like a gift. Being able to meet friends outdoors has been invaluable. Being comfortable because it’s no longer freezing, simply warms my heart. Walking this past week felt like a welcomed activity as if I haven’t been walking all along. Nonetheless, there’s an ease with Spring in the air. The city comes alive. The quiet streets are now a recent memory.
It can be a fickle season. Rain is abundant, storms are coming, and the warmth can be fleeting. But for today, I am grateful for the simple pleasure of Spring.
Clean Your Windows. Spring cleaning is a great start to the season.
Take a walk and see the new blooms
Grow herbs and/or flowers on your windowsill, in your garden, or even in a pot on a table. It helps to connect with nature, wherever you are.
I keep deluding myself into thinking I know the best formula for getting through these difficult times. I meditate twice daily. I make sure I don’t make plans more than once a week, except in special circumstances. I go for daily walks. I work. I try to make easy dinner a few times a week. I like doing all these things. While I’m doing them, I feel perfectly fine. But in other moments I am short-tempered. I am impatient. I long for more assistance. I understand how fortunate I am to have supportive people in my life. But we all need extra scaffolding, and since most of us are depleted, we have less inner resources from which to give.
When I get heated, lash out, or feel deflated, I know I am far from being balanced. I was never athletic, and I could barely do a cartwheel in gym class, but throughout school I felt comfortable on the balance beam. Not skilled, but able to stay upright. Now at a more advanced age, I feel at ease with balance stances on my yoga mat. But feeling steadied after a full day of work and a few minutes facing my to-do lists is not an available option these days. I am off-balance.
For months on end during the pandemic I was keen on regaining whatever balance I had before. That wasn’t working so I tried to find a new balance. Perhaps for some that’s a possibility, but I can only speak for myself, and I was nowhere near anything I could call balanced, beam or no beam. Now I’m not quite embracing the collective destabilizing forces, but I am doing what I can to live in it.
Yes, walking helps. True, carving out alone time makes a difference. Saying no when I don’t have the wherewithal. And saying yes when opening myself up to something out of my routine gives me renewed joy. All simple, but not always easy. I am grateful for laughter and art as balms in this uncertain storm. It allows me to come back to myself. A place in which I can be kind to myself and others, understanding most of us are a bit wobbly as we try to regain our footing.
Have a private Karaoke. Turn up a song and sing along loudly, releasing your inner artistic spirit.
Get a small plant while practicing loving discipline. Choose a commitment level by picking out a plant you can easily care for.
Read a short story. It gives you a sense of accomplishment without a long-term reading commitment.
I made plans months ago to get away this past week. I was heading to a conference that was cancelled last January. Looking forward to warm weather and outdoor dining, Omicron thwarted our quasi-vacation. Instead, I am in my apartment lamenting my unrealized trip.
Most of us have had to reroute our former intentions. The only traveling I did this week was mostly by foot. Though I did take one jaunt by ferry to Astoria Park to enjoy the opposite view of the East River. Not quite the coastline I had pictured, but the one closest to home.
I’m hearing about Covid fatigue left, right, and center. Without recovering from the initial stall of all that we knew to be our lives, we are plodding through the ever expanding unknown. Here and there we enjoy bright spots. But just as quickly we are easily agitated by small disturbances. At least that describes my experience.
I’m still making tentative travel plans, ever hopeful for shifts in the health of our world. I may have missed the boat, or rather, plane, this time, but I’m not giving up on future travel. For now, I have books to take me to new places.
Clean out old emails. If you’re anything like me, unless it’s junk, I keep some emails just in case. This weekend, I’m purging old emails. I invite you to join me.
Take the time to unsubscribe from unwanted solicitations. If that’s too much, start with one a day.
Have a plan B. If and when plans shift, you have something else you can enjoy in the meantime.
It’s heading towards dusk this Saturday evening. We’ve left the city for a short stay in the Catskills. The air Is fresh, the bird songs ever present. Our arrival was greeted by running ground hogs. On my walk of the vast property, I saw a leaping buck, ducks, yellow, blue and black with red birds. It feels good to have left the endless concrete for greener pastures. I love New York City and have no desire to reside anywhere that requires driving to get from one spot to another. Though taking a road trip is a nice change of pace.
This time of transition has been a bit overstimulating. I may not be doing the same amount as I had pre-pandemic, but my mind is swimming in new choices. And I’m not alone in that. That is why this time away from my everyday environment is so helpful. I may still be overthinking new possibilities, but I am doing it from afar. In this regard, I am not also looking at every corner seeing something I have yet to do or didn’t even know needed doing.
I am processing and resting in turns. Finishing this after a night’s sleep, this morning is foggy. I had wanted a colorful sunrise, but instead was left with a misty grey. Soothing rather than exciting. Tomorrow rain is upon us. It will literally dampen our plans for hiking. Instead, I may cook, do some yoga, and write. Ease rather than activity. I am not always a go with the flow kind of gal. I like to have plans, mapping out a way to accomplish them. But these two days away give me the opportunity to move away from old habits and adapt to my surroundings. A new lesson in the transition.
Slow down. Take yourself out of the clipped pace of your every day and see what that space provides
Create something out of leftovers. Give yourself a new take on an old dish.
Write a list of what you want to maintain from the lock-down, and come up with ways in which you can institute them as things continue to open up.
Throughout this past week I heard how difficult the week was. We had all gone through a year milestone, but there would be no celebrating. How do we celebrate one year of a pandemic? We don’t. We hunker down, as we had for over 52 weeks, and trudge on. It has been recommended that when we feel particularly vulnerable that is the best time to incorporate a self-care and self-love practice. And, though I share self-care tips, all of which I either try or do on a regular basis, self-love and self-care can feel like ephemeral notions.
Self-love and Self-care are phrases bandied about as if being able to understand the phrases gives us magical powers in living a life full of love and care towards ourselves. I, however, think these ideas often stay conceptual because we are told to just do this or that and it will all be okay. It is my belief that we have to rethink self-love and self-care.
I used to imagine love meant 100% acceptance of the loved. More often than not I pushed down feeling of sadness, anger, frustration, and bewilderment. My thinking was, ‘How can I truly love them if I feel this or that? I better learn to be more accepting.’ So I moved forward with shame and self-rage so that I could be a “loving” person. I attended to their requirements, or at least I thought I was, while I eschewed my own needs. Not only was this the opposite of self-love, but it was a misattunement of all love.
When we deny ourselves the space to feel all our feelings then we block kindness and care towards ourselves and others. Love more often than not is imperfect. We’ve all seen this as we distance in place. Cohabitating for long stretches without diversions means we witness the best and worst in each other day in and day out. If we live alone, then we are grateful for any contact, sometimes even when it leaves us wanting.
When I say how important it is to give ourselves the space to feel our feelings, I do not mean that we are free to rage or dump those feelings on others. Sometimes I share my love by not sharing my thoughts. I silently acknowledge this act of generosity. In this way I have the room to experience my feelings but I am not compelled to hurt some else, even at those times I want them to hurt like I hurt.
The great thing about love and care is that it is an evolving practice. When we are hard on ourselves, perhaps for not being as caring as we think we should be, like when we want someone to hurt like we’re hurting, then we can double down on patience and kindness for attempting the difficult. Perfection and the determination to reach perfection get in the way of living and loving fully. Now that we have passed the one-year mark of living in the Covid-19 pandemic, let’s applaud our grit. Let’s celebrate our imperfect love. Let’s appreciate whatever self-care we’ve been able to incorporate. Let’s acknowledge how hard this has been. Let’s commend all we’ve learned about love, care, kindness, and patience. Yay, us!
Daydream. Let your mind go. These breaks are essential, not only for creativity, but for survival at difficult times.
Savor breakfast. Sometimes we want our day to start so we have whatever we can in the morning. Truly enjoying our first meal is a lovely foundation for the day.
Chew slowly. We can really relish our food by slowing down, chewing slowly. It lowers our stress and supports us being in the moment.
Find a new source of humor. Laughter remains invaluable. Ask those who share a similar sense of humor if they can recommend a show, a comedian, a video, or anything else that will make you laugh.
Take a picture. Whether you want to document a moment, beauty, or something meaningful, a photograph allows you to revisit it again and again.
I wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day. In doing so, I am very aware that Valentine’s Day is loaded. Maybe even more so in the pandemic. Here in New York restaurants are now open for indoor dining. Some will make it a romantic evening. Some will fight because they have very different safety parameters. Some will feel lonely as they have in years past. Some will be uniquely solo in this Covid-19 year. Many will measure others’ love by what attention they receive or don’t receive today. And others will see it as just another Sunday. Whatever the case, Valentine’s Day is signified by hearts, the social sign of love.
Love is a peculiar thing. We read about it, we say, “I love you,” we’re told to love ourselves. And, yet love is not a measurable commodity. We have seen love take so many forms in the pandemic. My expression of love has been everything from open & joyous to thorny and messy. My acceptance of other’s love has been a balm at times. While other times I have been judgmental and closed-minded.
We often learn that love looks a particular way. And when those who love us express it in another form it can feel invalidating. They may not love us any less, but it’s hard to take it in when it looks different than our expectations. And, loving ourselves is a whole other ballgame. Often it feels like loving ourselves is a consolation for not receiving the love we want.
Nevertheless, I believe that loving ourselves is exactly the love we need. When we are gentle while vulnerable, kind when stressed, and caring when upset, then we are both providing ourselves with the love we need and taking in the love we’re giving. How wonderful is that? It may feel painful that we experience that alone. If so, then the kindness we impart will go a long way.
I am going to do the best I can to be kind to myself. I am committed to be kind to those I love, those I like, and to strangers. My kindness will be imperfect. I tend to be moody, and I don’t always have the emotional fortitude to express a generosity of heart. But I will do my best. And, as I accept the love given to me, and accept my limitations, as well as those of others, I will see that acceptance as an act of love. This is not necessarily what I was taught about love, it is what I’ve learned since then.
Give yourself a break from self-care. Sometimes it can become an obligation rather than a caring act. When that’s the case, take a pause.
Chapstick or lip balm, in your favorite flavor if you like, can be restorative on dry winter days.
Shelf-care. Go through your books. See if there’s any you’ve meant to read and take them off the shelf. Or see what you can give away.
Watch a James Corden video on YouTube. May I suggest a Carpool Karaoke? He aims to bring laughter.
Celebrate a party of One. You are number one. And celebrating yourself in any manner that brings delight is the perfect party