The Present Moment

A woman I work with recently asked me to write "my story" to help promote an upcoming Mindfulness series that I am offering.  It has been a long time since I have written anything and I felt excited at the prospect of putting something down on paper again. I submitted a rather lengthly piece and was then asked if I could condense my four pages into one page.  I revised the article but found myself still wanting to share the longer version.  I recently watched film maker Matt Embry's documentary Living Proof and find myself wanting to also share some of the thoughts that got stirred up for me as I listened to his story of living with MS.  So I am sharing the unedited lengthy version with you here and now.

I was first introduced to Mindfulness sixteen years ago when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  At that time, I had lost the vision in my right eye, was having debilitating anxiety, experiencing panic attacks for the first time in my life, and I was terrified about what this diagnosis would mean for my future.  This is a bit of my story about how I lost my vision in order to be able to finally see.  It is a story about how something as simple as getting up thirty minutes before my children every morning to meditate changed my life in the most profound ways.  It is a story of how to this day, my meditation practice is something that sustains me when all else falls away.

It was the day after Christmas in 2003 when I woke up with a terrible headache and a searing pain in my eye sockets.  My husband assured me that it was just an optical migraine and that it was nothing to worry about.  Within a few hours, the world was becoming increasingly blurry and the pain was excruciating.  It was the day after Christmas and I was unable to find an eye doctor working and so I went to a walk in medical clinic, where I was told that I had a sinus infection. I was no doctor but this just didn’t make sense to me.  I was loosing my vision, I was not congested.   A few hours later, I had lost almost all of the vision in my right eye.  I was scared.  I didn’t know what was happening but I knew that something was very wrong.  I called the emergency room asking if it was safe for me to go to sleep.  I remember worrying that perhaps I was having a stroke.  They informed me that I should be seen my an ophthalmologist and that even if I came into the ER, they would not have the necessary equipment to assess what was going on.  I woke up the next morning with no vision in my right eye not sure what to do since it was now a holiday weekend.  I was very fortunate that our neighbor, an ophthalmologist who had just returned home from his holiday vacation, graciously opened up his office to see me.  It was not long before he informed me that I had a serious case of optic neuritis, an inflammation of the optic nerve.  Within hours I was having a host of tests and scans as doctors tried to determine the cause of this sudden loss of vision.  I was prescribed a 5 day course of IV steroids to help avoid permanent damage to the optic nerve.

Several days later, I was in a neurologist’s office being shown the scans of my brain and being told that the lesions present were indicative of Multiple Sclerosis.  I remember catching my breath and saying to the doctor that I needed a moment.  I just needed to digest what he was telling me and I just needed to be with this news for a moment.  Without giving me that moment, he went on to say: “This is devastating news.  This condition will likely debilitate you.  You should be devastated.  You will likely be in a wheelchair within ten years”.  I was horrified.  What kind of doctor says this to a patient just moments after giving them news of a chronic health condition?  How dare he rob me of my hope. Where was his compassion?  I grabbed my scans and walked out of that office telling my husband that we would find a different neurologist.  

Once home, I needed to be alone so I went into the shower.  As I stood under the warm water, tears streaming down in a silent roar, I kept hearing the doctor’s voice saying to me, “you should be devastated” but instead, I began to feel a strange sense of peace.  I felt this other still small voice from deep within saying: “This is not happening to debilitate you or to punish you.  This is a gift and it is going to teach you what you need to learn about yourself.   You have lost your vision so that you can see.”  I wan't quite sure why but I was OK because the real truth was that in that very moment, I really was OK.  I didn't know what my future held but in that moment I was OK.

In the days and weeks that followed, fear returned.  My vision was not coming back as I had hoped it would given the treatment I had undergone.  The more I researched MS, the more I began to worry about what all of this was going to mean for me and my family.  I started having crippling anxiety and was experiencing  panic attacks for the first time in my life.  As I was trying to learn more about this condition, the one thing that kept getting my attention was the talk about how stress could aggravate MS.  There seemed to be so much talk about the importance of managing stress and taking care of oneself with diet, exercise and rest.  I decided that I needed to find a way to better manage the stress I was experiencing so that my body could begin to heal.  I began reading Jon Kabat-Zinn’s book Full Catastrophe Living.  In this book, he outlines the findings of his 8-week Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction program used to treat people with chronic pain, heart conditions, and cancer.  I was fascinated and it all made complete sense to me.  I could wrap my head around the science of his findings and I knew that this was something that I needed to learn more about.  I enrolled in this 8-week MBSR course and quite simply, it changed my life.  

I was amazed because all that I was doing differently was getting up 30 minutes before my daughters to meditate each day and yet my life was changing in the most profound ways.  The course asked that we commit to meditating 30 minutes every day for the 8 weeks and because I was very much a perfectionist at that time, if I said that I was going to meditate every day for 8 weeks, then I was going to meditate every day.  I was also highly motivated because I still did not have my vision back and I was still having fairly debilitating panic attacks all while trying to take care of two small children.  I was desperate for some relief and so whether I felt like it or not, I got up each morning and meditated.  To this day, I think that has been one of the greatest gifts that I gave to myself during that challenging time.    

Prior to the course starting, every time that I walked past the microwave, I would stop to close my “good eye” and see if I could tell what time it was with my “challenging eye”.  Each time that I stopped to look at the clock, all I could make out was a blur of glowing lights.  I would feel anxious every time I walked past the clock worrying that my vision might never return.  It was not so much that I could not tell what time it was that was so upsetting but it was where my mind would take me into the future that caused me so much distress.  I don't even think it was so much the fear about my vision because with my one functioning eye, I could still see.  I think it was more the fear of what else might happen in the future?  What if this happened again in my other eye leaving me blind? Those were the scary places that I would go to.

After the first week of the course, I noticed that I was not stopping by the clock as often.  I might think about it as I walked by but the urge to have to test my eye every time I passed was less.  With each week that passed, I was checking the clock less and when I did check, I noticed that I was not as bothered when I could not tell the time.  It was more that I was able to just notice that I could not see the time, as an observable event, and then I could let it go.  Eventually I stopped checking the clock and I stopped worrying so much about when my vision was going to return.  Instead I was becoming increasingly able to just appreciate all that was right with my body and all that was beautiful in my life.    Instead of looking at what I had lost, I was suddenly looking at all that was right before me.  I started to feel so profoundly grateful.  I started to feel such incredible joy from the smallest of things.  I could savor the joy of snuggling up with my children in ways that I had not fully appreciate before.  The panic attacks lessened and I stopped fearing them because I started to have confidence that I would be able to manage them if they occurred. I started to really believe that I was going to be OK no matter the condition of my body.  I was beginning to be present in my life, able to accept myself exactly as I was, and able to bring myself back to this place of peace and acceptance any time that I would slip into worrying about my future.  It was as if I was waking up to my life. That was when it dawned on me what a gift this condition could be.  The irony was not lost on me that I literally needed to loose my eyesight in order to see what really mattered - that all any of us has is this present moment so why not be fully present for each of our moments no matter what might be going on in our lives.  It was at this time that MS began to stand for MySelf to me instead of Multiple Sclerosis because I was able to appreciate how MS could be my greatest teacher if I allowed it to be.

When the eight weeks were done and the course was complete, I remember feeling afraid.  It was as if I had been given this amazing gift but I was afraid that I would loose it now that the structure of the program was over.  When the teacher offered me the opportunity to retake the course at no charge if I worked as her assistant, I jumped at the opportunity.  I accepted her generous offer and did so several other times.  The beauty was not just in how my own meditation practice was becoming solidified as a part of my daily life but also how I got to bear witness to how it was changing the lives of every one who participated.  I knew with all certainty that this was something real that worked.  I was literally rewiring my brain to learn how to be in the present and how to respond to the stress in my life in a healthy way rather than just reacting to it with my old habitual patterns.  Once we learn, we can not unlearn and so there was no going back for me.  This was my new way of life.  

Jon Kabat-ZInn was quoted as saying, “this practice is simple but not at all easy” and how true this is.  It seems so simple, to just sit and do nothing but to actually sit with yourself, your thoughts, your feelings, and sensations in your body without judging yourself and without doing anything at all about any of it, is one of the hardest things to do.  To switch from our normal mode of constantly doing to a mode of simply being can be very difficult.  Like any new activity we are trying to learn, we must practice if we are going to improve.  This is a practice that requires a deep commitment.  It is a practice that we must be consistent with and also one that we must have a tremendous amount of self compassion for.  It is a practice we must do whether we feel like it or not and we must expect that there will be many times that we do not want to practice.  It is a practice that can sustain us when all else falls away.  It is a practice that has helped me to make peace with the reality that my health may always be a challenge and that is really OK.  It is a practice that has helped me to choose to respond to my life from a place of gratitude and acceptance no matter what chaos, storms or crisis might be going on around me.   

As I continued to experience so many life altering benefits from my own daily meditation practice, I began wanting to share what I was learning with others so that they too could experience some of the same benefits.   It started by just talking with friends about it on walks and having small gatherings where we would meditate together.  Friends would tell friends and people would ask me to help them learn to meditate.  When I saw how much I was enjoying sharing my passion for Mindfulness with others, I decided to go back to school to become a certified life coach so that I might teach others what I needed to continue learning and practicing in my own life.  

Fast forward to present, I have been living with this unpredictable condition for 16 years now.  I have had periods of relapse and periods of remission.  I have gone on and off different disease modifying drugs.  I have gone on and off different MS diets.  I have worked with naturopaths, MDs, massage therapists, reiki practitioners, acupuncturist, physical therapist, counselors and so much more.  I have felt frustrated and confused by conflicting information over the years.  Through it all, the one thing that I have consistently done as part of my self care that I feel has benefitted me the most has been my daily meditation practice.  My meditation practice has helped me learn to focus on the present moment, to not worry about the future, and to be grateful for all aspects of my life.  It has helped me to allow MS to be my greatest teacher.  It has allowed me to not live in fear of what this disease may or may not do to me.  It has taught me that is is not only OK but necessary to say No sometimes, that it is OK to disappoint others to be true to myself, that I can’t please everyone and that not everyone will understand, that I am so much more than this body I inhabit, that it is OK to ask for help, that I can do very hard things and that I do not have to do them alone.  

In a world where there is so much pressure to be constantly doing, accomplishing, creating, and producing, we often forget how to simply be.   We forget how to be still.   It is in the stillness that we can connect to who we really are.  It is in this stillness that we are able to access our own inner wisdom to know what is best for ourselves.  I would not be honest if I did not admit that I still struggle with all of the conflicting information out there on MS.  Neurologist and the MS societies use fear to motivate people to take one of the disease modifying drugs.  Others out there use similar fear tactics as a way of promoting very strict diets as the way to stop the progression of the disease.  It can be overwhelming to know what to do.  

As I sat listening to Matt Embry "uncovering the crippling politics of treating multiple sclerosis" and sharing his story of living with MS, I had mixed reactions.  As he spoke on his absolute certainty that diet is the way to stop the progression of this disease and his absolute certainty that none of the disease modifying drugs out there are of any benefit, I found myself getting angry.  For years I was the product of my last conversation.  If my neurologist talked to me about the dangers of not being on a drug, I usually chose to go on a drug.  If a naturopath spoke to me about the dangers of the drugs and the power of the special diet, I threw out my needles and started eating massive amount of kale.  I rode this roller coaster for years never really trusting that I knew what was best for myself.  Throughout the documentary, it seemed to me that Matt Embry is living his life empowered but also quite afraid.  In my opinion, he seems to be searching for guarantees and proof that what he is doing is going to keep him from becoming disabled.  I do not think such guarantees exist.  He made a lot of compelling points and I was deeply touched by parts of his film but I also found myself appreciating how I have lived most of these past 16 years not in fear of what the future may hold.  It was not any of the drugs or diets that allowed me to live with this sense of peace in not knowing, but rather it was my daily meditation practice that allowed me to continue brining myself into the present moment where no matter what was going on in my mind or body, I was OK.  I have tried it all and as I have said, I have had periods of remission and periods of relapse on and off the drugs and on and off the diets.  The truth is that I do not have the answers and I do not believe such absolute answers even exist.  I believe that what works well for one person, may not work for another and I have come to realize that I am not comfortable with those people who claim they know with all certainty what is best for another.  I do not doubt that those who advocate that diet alone can change the course of the disease believe this to be true for themselves.  I also do not doubt that those who choose to go on a disease modifying drug believe that they are making the best choice possible for themselves.  I do question anyone out there who claims to know what the answer is for another person.  For example,if you are someone who has struggled with an eating disorder most of your life, going on a very restrictive diet might not serve you well.  If you are terrified of needles and the thought of injecting yourself several times a week is going to cause you an inordinate amount of stress, perhaps choosing to go on a disease modifying drug isn't the best choice for you.  My point is that I believe we all must gather as much information as we are able to and then we all must make the choices that are best for ourselves given who we are as human beings. I think that we all need to respect one another and appreciate that none of us really knows what is best for another person.  

I have been having a flare up of old and new symptoms this past year that while manageable, have been challenging at times.  When I have caught myself franticly searching for some magic answers about what it is I should be doing, I try to pause and breathe.  I meditate asking myself, “What do I need? What is best for me? What do I want? What sustains me?” and then I listen.  I now trust that I know what is best for me.  My truth continues to remain the same as it was all of those years ago and that is that the single healthiest thing I can do for myself is to continue my practice of staying in the present moment.  All any of us has, is this moment so why not be fully present and enjoy each of our moments no matter what the condition of our minds and bodies.  This does not mean that I am always happy about the circumstances in my life, but it does mean that I can be at peace no matter what is going on with my body or in my life.  I choose to nourish my body with mostly healthy nutrient dense foods but I also choose to feel free when it comes to food and follow a more intuitive approach to eating.  I also choose to continue taking one of the disease modifying drugs that I tolerate with virtually no side effects other than injection site reactions.  I also now choose to not let what others are advocating make me feel guilty for making the choices that I feel are right for me today.  We are all uniquely different and the reality is that MS presents differently in almost every individual who lives with the disease.  So we each may just need to find what the best way to live with the unpredictable condition is for ourselves and let that be OK.

Balance - Listening to what MY heart, mind, and body most need

Pulling up my blog site this evening, I was shocked to see that my last post was over one year ago.  I still can't quite believe that I have been away from this for such a long time.  I will share that it has been a year of a lot of introspection, growth and at times both deep joy and overwhelming stress.  I guess it has just been....life, as it is for us all,  with its many ups and downs.

I wonder if those of you who read my blog, when it was more active, are still out there willing to read on with me again, now as I hope to resume posting more regularly.  I hope that you are because sharing with you is why I write in this forum.  If I touch even one person with something that I have written or make even one gentle soul out there feel less alone, than I have succeeded in my mission.  I am someone who craves meaningful connections with others and this seems to be one way that I can express myself, while hoping to touch others out there.  I find this very rewarding but also deeply meaningful and healing for me. Our shame grows in darkness but in connection comes healing.  So I choose to share with those of you interested in reading with the hopes of some connection and healing for myself personally and maybe for a few of you out there.

If you have read past posts of mine, you know that I write mainly about the challenges and gifts of living with Multiple Sclerosis and about my passion for Mindfulness.

I am thrilled to share that I recently began a new job working as a meditation guide at a very special Meditation Center called Current Meditation.  I am also thrilled that I continue leading my Journey Through Mindfulness - Introduction to Mindfulness series at Current.  I sometimes have to pinch myself when I am at work because I feel beyond fortunate to find my work something that brings me such peace and healing.  Not everyone is blessed enough to truly love their work and it is not something that I take for granted.  The atmosphere at Current is truly unique and there is not really anything else out there quite like it.  For more on Current you can visit www.becurrent.com.

I am also, at the moment, jacked up on IV steroids- seriously jacked up!  I am having an MS Relapse and it is this that brings me to the keyboard.  One of the side effects of the treatment is that it makes it very difficult to sleep. I was awake in bed until 3:30am last night and while exhausted to the bone, I am wide awake again tonight  knowing that sleep is not happening any time soon. After doing multiple meditations, trying to quiet my mind enough to drift off to slumber,  I decided that rather than fight it, I would use the time to share what has been on my mind throughout this relapse because once again, MS is proving to be a wise and valuable teacher to me.

Living with this condition for almost thirteen years now, I read so many books, try so many different holistic remedies, special MS diets, go through periods of being too rigorous with my exercise to then periods of stopping all together, I have periods of balance and periods or extremes, I go the traditional drug therapy route on and off, and read so many books all with different promises of what will put an end to this condition or at least silence it, trying most of their suggestions. I listen to what others, living with the condition, find helpful and try adopting their plans for myself - ordering assortments of supplements and various remedies.

For me personally, I suffer relapses while on and off the various diets, while on and of the different drug therapies, while doing rigorous exercise and while doing more gentle gentle mindful movement.  All of this at times, leaves me feeling overwhelmed and at a loss.  I realize that the recovering perfectionist I am, with a strong need to feel in control, desperately wants to know the right way for me to manage this condition.  This same part of me, feels like I am somehow getting it wrong when I do suffer a relapse.  Is it something that I ate? Is it the stress from the holidays? Is it the emotional stress I have been under? Is it that I have been spending more time guiding others in meditations and not enough time maintaining my own personal practice?  Is it that I have not exercised in almost one year with any regularity? Is it that I have not properly nourished my body? The list goes on and on as do these nagging feelings that if I could just figure out what the magic answer is, I would be OK.

During this time of MS activity, I believe I am finally realizing that perhaps the healthiest thing that I can do for myself is to admit and accept that I just can't control MS.  As much as I want to, I can't know what causes my relapses.  I am also beginning to see how I can be very much an all or nothing kind of person.  I can do things in extremes. The concept of moderation and balance is sometimes a foreign one for me.  I am also realizing that it does me no good to compare myself to anyone else and their journey.  I feel extremely blessed, that over the course of the many years living with MS, the progression for me has been benign.  There are so many out there, who suffer with much more rapidly progressing forms of the condition. So, I am truly grateful.  That said, I can find it difficult to live with such an unpredictable condition that I can't control or fix.

Back to the revelation that I can often find moderation a challenge.  When I get an idea, I often just  run with it, not always really taking the time to think it through.  I guess you could say I can be impulsive at times.  I decide I want to start to jog, intending to build up to 20 minutes - three days a week, and before I know it I am training for a half marathon. (which I am proud to say I did accomplish and it was both BRUTAL and AMAZING)  I say that I am just going to go to Pure Barre twice a week, because I love it, but then end up signing up for the monthly unlimited membership  going five to six times a week, ignoring the signs my body is screaming at me that this is too much.  I read Dr. Terry Wahl's protocol that cured her MS and I follow her guidelines, as best I can, but I end up being very good at restricting the many food groups recommended to eliminate but not as successful at including the may nutrient dense foods it calls me to include daily. (have never once made bone broth or eaten liver among many other things she calls us to implement) This approach ends up fueling a very disordered way of eating that causes a host of other challenges for me.  I try to slow down and listen to my body, only to be left feeling an overwhelming guilt because I want to be doing more.  In my mind, society is telling me that I should be doing more.  This becomes an unhealthy place for my mind to reside because I can feel less than or like I am not being productive enough, which can lead to depression, anxiety, and isolating myself.

It has been about one year, that I have been dealing with a lot of different stressful situations in life, not taking any disease modifying drug therapy for most of that time, also not fueling my body in a healthy way and not doing any form of regular exercise- mindful movement or otherwise for the last year.  All the while, feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed, as I have been feeling my health slowly deteriorating.  It has been a challenging time.  That is not to say that there have not been many beautiful joyful times - there have. Still, taking care of myself has been challenging at times this past year.

As I say, in most of my blog posts about living with MS, MS is truly my teacher when I allow it to be.  Someday I hope to write a book titled MySelf, that will speak to the many ways that living with MS has given me the gift of truly getting to know MySelf - my most authentic self.  I think it is honest to reveal that I am also a recovering people pleaser and so this getting to know who I really am, rather than the version of who I feel others want me to be,  has been a huge journey for me and one I am so grateful for.  (I believe this is another blog post on its own)

This recent relapse is proving to be once again a wise and loving teacher.   It is as if MS has decided to hit me between the eyes to get my attention and now that is has, I have decided to listen.  To really listen to that still silence within that I know I can trust. The overwhelming lesson it seems to want me to learn, is to continue researching, reading, and listening to others but, in the end, to come back to that still silent voice within and then decide what is best for MY body, MY mind, and MY wellness.

I have come to believe that what may work for one person, might not necessarily work for another.  We all have different genetic makeups, different physical bodies with their own unique set of sensitivities, weaknesses, strengths, and needs.  We have different emotional states of wellness, what overwhelms one person might not even phase someone else.  Each of us has suffered different life events that have played a part in shaping who we are, leaving us each so uniquely different, that I believe that perhaps what works so well for one, might not be the magic answer for another.

So while the details of this relapse or the course of the treatment I have chosen, aren't of importance to this post, what I do feel worthy to share, is what  I am learning is that for me personally,  Balance is what I most need.  Balance is all areas of my life.  It is just as important for me to meditate, at least twice a day formally, as it is to guide classes for others.  It is important that I find mindful ways to move my body each day - ways that can help to strengthen it without taxing it - honoring that might look different from day to day.  It is vital for me to fuel my body with nutrient dense foods, trying to eliminate inflammatory foods, but also indulging at times, allowing myself to enjoy eating something just because I want to eat it and it tastes good or because it allows me to feel a part of enjoying a meal with others. It is important for me to listen to how I feel about drug therapies and not just be persuaded by either neurologists, who try to convince me it is in my best interest to be taking one of the disease modifying treatments, OR well intended people, who also try to share their opinions of the many reasons I should avoid such drug remedies.  I can gather information and then choose what I believe is best for my body, mind and spirit.

I  realize that there are as many differing opinions out there on all of this as there are people eager to share their opinions.  In the end, I realize that only I can make the choices that are best for me.  Then the equally important realization is that once I make whatever choices I make, that I then allow myself to feel at peace with them,  regardless of what others are telling me.  Also, realizing that no choice is permanent and I have the ability to make different choices down the road.

I am accepting that there are days my body will feel great and allow me to be the active person I enjoy being and there will be days when what it most needs is a nap or a day to take it easy and that is also OK.  I will honor and respect my body, meeting it wherever it is, with the same compassion and respect I would give to anyone else.  | will try hard to remember that I am no less of a person on the days of rest than I am on the days of productive activity.  To me, it all seems to be boiling down to living a more Authentic, Balanced and Mindful life, says the Mindfulness instructor. :)

For me, living an Authentic, Balanced,  and Mindful life, means loving myself not just on the easy days, when I feel like I have it all together,  but also on the challenging days, when I might feel utterly lost.  Perhaps even loving and accepting myself a little bit more on those more difficult days.

Tomorrow I get to remove the IV line from my wrist after my husband administers my last round of treatment,  I have to take a moment to just share my appreciation for my dear husband, who sat through the training with the nurse sent to our house, and despite his low tolerance for needles, blood and all things related to this type of therapy, he was right there with me through it all.  When it was too much for me to handle administering to myself, he took over and was the greatest husband-nurse I could have asked for.  Thank you my dear husband. I love you!  Once this last treatment is over and we can pull this line out of my little vein, I plan to enjoy a delicious shower, get dressed in big girl  clothes (I have been living in sweat pants for the past several days and just want to feel pretty), put make up on (also not been high on the list of things to do recently),  pick out some recipes from Dr. Terry Wahls MS cookbook to prepare for us to enjoy this week, and begin the journey of Mindful eating, Mindful moving, reaching out and connecting with others (I tend to isolate during these challenging times), and will be beyond grateful for every step of the journey back to wellness.  MRIs and doctors appointments to follow, which I plan to use as information gathering sessions and then during my times of inward reflection, will keep making the best decisions for MySelf, one day at a time, learning - growing - healing and becoming more real each step of the way.

I feel grateful and blessed.  Thank you MS.......I so dislike you sometimes but always seem to come around realizing that we are in this dance together and you have so much to teach me.

Blessings, light and love to all!

Journey to Becoming Real

"Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you. Sometimes it hurts, but when you are Real you don't mind being hurt. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. Once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand. Once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.”

                                                  ― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Recently, someone lent me a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit.  I have fond memories of reading this book to my two small children years ago.  Curled up among their piles of  stuffed animals, feeling their tiny hands interlocked with mine and the warmth of their cheeks pressed against my face.  Those were such sweet innocent times that now seem such a distant memory.  

Much has happened over the years as my husband and I have raised our two daughters.  I am not sure where our original copy of The velveteen Rabbit   is but I imagine it is packed away amongst other treasured memories from their childhood years.  

I had forgotten about this sweet children’s story about becoming Real but after rereading it, I have been thinking a lot about that little bunny and his deep longings to be Real.  Margery Williams writes so sweetly about how love make us Real.  She gives us beautiful descriptions of how the world of appearances fades away when we become real saying, “Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby”.  Shabbiness doesn’t matter when you are Real.  Like that little Rabbit, I find myself in a time of life where I am searching for my authentic self.  Longing to be more Real.

I do believe that Love can make us more Real.  I also believe that becoming Real is hard work! It isn’t something that just magically happens.  I believe it takes extraordinary courage to become Real in a world that seems to place such importance on appearances, on the need to attain some unrealistic idea of perfection, and our own human need to somehow fit in. I also believe that Love can be hard.   I don’t think any of us intentionally sets out to hurt the ones we love, yet we do hurt them and they hurt us.  That is life.  I think the good news in this reality is that it is these unavoidable pains of life that may just wind up being the very things that can help make us Real.

I have spent much of my life concerned with how everyone else was feeling about me, trying to please others, protecting people, fixing or changing myself to be more of who I thought I was supposed to be, and at times sadly focusing on trying to change others to fit my idea of how things should be. It isn’t that my life hasn’t had great meaning and importance because it has.    It does. I am blessed in unimaginable ways and am grateful for the ways that I have loved and have been loved.  As Williams says, becoming Real is a process.  It doesn’t happen all at once.  Life can be hard.  The world we find ourselves in today can be brutal, frightening, and devastating.  How we respond to painful events can tell us a lot about who we are.  Do we become shriveled up and afraid of further pain or can we turn towards our fears and insecurities? Can we be with out own suffering and can we sit with the suffering of others without shrinking back?  I believe that we can allow our struggles and pain to deepen our compassion and understanding for those we love and for ourselves.

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t longing for meaningful connections with others and I am always deeply touched when I experience such connections.  I do not take them for granted.  I am discovering a common thread among the experiences I have when I receive these connections.  Those moments when a person really sees me, accepts me, understands me, and loves me regardless of what is there - have all been moments when I have offered myself up, much like the Velveteen rabbit, soft, shabby, and Real.  I believe that in order to have meaningful connections with others, we must first become Real with ourselves.

 I led a Letting Go guided meditation to a group of brave men and women the other day.  I say, “brave” because each showed up exactly as they were, open and willing to just be there with whatever happened.  I was reminded that in mindfulness practice, there is no need for striving or for effort. In fact, there is no need to try to make anything happen at all.  We aren't trying to get rid of unpleasant experiences or create a perfect practice.  We are quite simply just practicing being in each present moment - one after the next.  In so doing, we discover that there is tremendous value in consciously letting go of all effort and that it is often in these moment of effortless presence that we will be able to see more clearly who we really are.  There is something quite beautiful in resting in our own natural awareness.  

I believe that the more time I spend resting in my own natural awareness with compassion and loving kindness for myself and others, the braver I will become in sharing with the world my true authentic self. The more Real I will become.  Simple though not easy.  Might the work also be hard but at times also effortless? 

So I thank you Margery Williams for reminding me that becoming Real is indeed not something that happens all at once.  It is not something that is easy.  It sometimes hurts.  Becoming Real is hard and painful, uncomfortable and strange.  It is also glorious, daring, brave, and beautiful. I also thank you dear one - you know who you are - for lending me your copy of this book serving as a gentle and loving reminder of what it means to be REAL. 

Everything Happens/Doesn't Happen For A Reason

In one of my previous blogs, I describe my outrage at the neurologist who gave me the news of my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis. "It is OK to cry.  This is devastating news.  You will likely be debilitated because of this", were his words I heard faintly in the background.  I say "faintly" because it was a bit like I was in a Charlie Brown cartoon listening to the teacher. You know the one who has that hard to understand echo of a voice.  "Wha wha wha wha". That one.  It was happening as if it were in slow motion and rather surreal. He was pointing to lesions on my brain up on the large light bright box on the wall.  I would not cry.  I could not cry.  Instead I grabbed my MRI films - this was before everything was digital or even before those slim floppy discs, and with those huge films tucked beneath my arm, I bolted out of there.  I was furious.  How dare this monster try to rob me of my optimistic way of dealing with difficult situations.  A long elevator ride down to the parking lot with my husband in tow, and all that I could do was repeat the sayings that I had always spouted out during difficult times.   "Everything happens for a reason.  It is meant to be.  This will make me a better person.  Good will come of this".    I had to believe this to be true.  I could not go anywhere else with this news.  I thought that living by these sayings, allowed me to be strong in the face of adversity.  I was proud of the ways that I could always find the positive in any situation.

 I still believe that my positive outlook on life is one of my strengths but I read an article today, that shed a different light on things for me.  Tim Lawrence shook things up for me this morning in his article titled, Everything Doesn't Happen For a Reason.  In his article, he writes that grief is painful and speaks about how when life gets turned upside down, the only thing we must do is grieve. He goes on to share that there are some things in life that can't be fixed but that can only be carried. What a thought. "Carried".

This made me wonder - how might things have been different for me all of those years ago, if instead of rushing out of that neurologist's office cursing him for his negative outlook,  I had allowed the news to really sink in.  What if I had allowed myself to accept his invitation to cry at receiving this news?  What if while descending in that silent never ending elevator ride, I had been able to tell my husband how frightened I was?  What if I could have allowed him to tell me how frightened he was?  What if I could have allowed myself to grieve this news instead of pushing through it trying to prove to the people in my world that I could handle this with a great attitude and that I would make the most of the situation?   How might things have been different if I could have allowed myself to grieve?

I look back at that time in my life and I see now that I was too afraid to feel the full range of emotions that would come with grieving the loss of my health at such a young age.  I could not go there.

I am grateful that this article found me this morning before going in for a routine brain MRI.  I once had to medicate myself just to get through those hours lying motionless in a narrow tube, with my head in a padded vice like container, listening to those never ending loud banging and grinding noises.  I now meditate my way through the process and have to admit that I feel a sense of accomplishment over the mastery of this beast of a test.  Having MS and claustrophobia don't always go easily together but my mindfulness practice has prevailed in this area and I can now get through the longest of MRIs without sedatives.  Back to my original thought.  During the scans today, I was thinking about the article and this notion that not everything happens for a reason. I was thinking about the importance of the process of grieving loss.  I could not help but remember the times that I thought I was comforting someone, in the wake of their struggles, by offering such encouraging words as, "Things happen for a reason.  You will learn from this.  Good can come of this", and I found myself wishing so deeply that I could rewind time so that I could be with each of those people differently.  If I could be with every person I have ever been with, who was hurting deeply, again -  I would now choose to say to them, "I know that you are hurting and I am here with you".

I realize now that my inability to be with my own grief, also prevented me from really being present with others during their grief.  In trying to fix it or make it less than it is, I have only been  denying myself and those who I care about the chance to really grieve.

I still choose to look at life as a glass half full rather than half empty.  I still choose to look for the positive in situations.  I believe that good can come from challenges but I don't necessarily  believe that the good would not have come regardless.  I now also choose to be more authentic, allowing myself to feel the full range of my emotions - not just the impressive ones that make me appear to the outside world as if I have it all together.    Author Anna Quindlen wrote, "The thing that is really hard and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself".  This resonates with me.

To read Tim Lawrence's article: http://www.timjlawrence.com/…/everything-doesnt-happen-for-…

The Stillness Below the Surface

Sitting on my maroon meditation cushion surrounded by a small group of three men and two woman, similarly resting on either cushions or mats of their own, I decide to work with a lake meditation today.  I choose this because one of the men has recently shared that he is loving the mountain meditation and that he really enjoys detail guided imagery meditations.  I think to myself, well, then let’s go to a lake.   I feel a sense of excitement knowing that I will be visiting lake Winnipesaukee, a lake that I used to spend a lot of time on years ago and one that I remember with great fondness.

I invite the group to picture in their mind’s eye the image of a lake, a body of water, large or small, held in a receptive basin by the earth.  I remind them that water likes to pool in low places, it seeks its own level, asks to be held and contained.  The meditation then goes on to describe a variety of lakes; deep or shallow, blue or green, muddy or clear.  Some lakes have a flat surface that reflects trees, rocks, sky and clouds.  Others are whipped to frothing, with reflections that distort and disappear, sunlight that sparkles on the waves like shimmering diamonds.  In winter, the lake may freeze over while life below the surface continues with movement.  I encourage the group to bring the image of their lake inside themselves so that they actually become one with the lake.  Breathing as the lake, feeling its body as their own body, allowing their mind and heart to be open and receptive.  They are invited to identify not only with the surface of the lake but the entire body of water so that they can become the stillness below the surface as well.  

Jon Kabat-Zinn says this about the Lake Meditation: “In your mediation practice and in your daily life, can you be in touch, not only with the changing content and intensity of your thoughts and feelings, but also with the vast unwavering reservoir of awareness itself, residing below the surface of your mind.  The lake can teach us this, remind us of the lake within ourselves.”

As the meditation comes to a close, I am caught by surprise at what happens next.  

I always end my meditations by asking if anyone has any questions or if they would like to share anything.  This is often my favorite part of class because I almost always hear something that deeply touches me, that teaches me something, or that I believe is exactly what someone in the room needs to hear.  Before I go on to share what happens in the moments following the lake meditation, I want to first share something that happened the previous night.  

I am working on an upcoming workshop that I am doing to help introduce mindfulness to teenage children.  In the course of my research and compiling what I want to offer these adolescents, I begin to question myself.  It is that little voice that can creep into my head raising self doubt and judging myself much too harshly.  Before I know it, I am researching websites of other instructors offering similar programs only to feel even less secure in my own talents.  I worry that I don’t have the qualifications I see in so many others.  So many certifications and degrees that I don’t yet have.  Fancy websites that I am still saving money to be able to afford.  Years of experience teaching that I also do not have. It really does a number on me and before I know it, I am questioning this journey I am on and wondering what on earth I am really doing here? Where am I going in all of this?

Back to the moments following the lake meditation today.  It was in listening to one of the men share of his experience that I found the answers to my own questions.  This man shares with such a raw vulnerability about how at first he was afraid to go near his lake because of how tumultuous the surface appeared.  He feared it would swallow him up.  Then he proceeded to share how as the meditation guided him to begin to explore beneath the surface of the lake, he began to relax as he realized that what resides below the surface is not changed by what is happening above.  No matter how violent the storms above are, it can remain safe below.  He went on in great detail and I could not help but feel extremely blessed at how he felt comfortable sharing so openly.  In listening to him share of his experience, in seeing the excitement in his eyes and hearing the passion in his voice as he talks, I receive a bright beautiful answer to those questions that plagued me the night before.  “What am I really doing here”?  I am sharing what I have learned over the years as honestly and authentically as I know how.  I am savoring the experience of being fully present with each person I am blessed to share with.  “Where am I going with all of this”? As far as I can go!  When I was first introduced to Mindfulness, after being diagnosed with MS over twelve years ago, I made a decision that I was going to take the experiences that living with this condition gives to me and use them to help others.  So, I may not have all of the certifications or degrees that some others in this field have, but what I do have to offer, as a result of over twelve years of a daily mindfulness practice, seems to be enough right now and seems to be allowing me to connect with a variety of people in a way that is deeply meaningful.  

So in calling to mind the image of my own lake, I realize that the small voice of self doubt and the critical judging mind that is second guessing my path, are nothing more than violent storms that create a choppy, turbulent surface on my lake.  The beauty is that if I can focus on the calm stillness that resides beneath that surface, I have all of the confidence and ability needed to succeed on this journey of teaching mindfulness to as many people as I possibly can.

Things happen as they happen.

Kindness and compassion are at the core of almost every mindfulness practice.  I know this to be true and I teach this to my students.  I often hear myself talking about the importance of practicing with kindness, acceptance, openness, non-striving, compassion, trust, and patience.  My desire in teaching mindfulness is to allow people the opportunity to learn that Mindfulness is the awareness that arises out of intentionally paying attention in an open, kind and discerning way.  I encourage people to be gentle with themselves and share that it is sometimes easier than others to practice mindfulness but to be compassionate with yourself.  There is no right way to practice mindfulness.  This is what I teach and this week I got to be the student struggling to learn this very lesson.

This past week our family embarked on what was to be a five night six day white water rafting adventure along the middle fork salmon river in Idaho.  We would be rafting by day, camping along the riverside by night.  My husband planned this trip with passion and excitement for almost an entire year, certain that this was going to be our families best vacation ever. He put up with consistent protests from our two daughters and admittedly myself assuring us that this was going to be a life altering adventure that we would remember forever.

After months of preparing and gathering necessary gear, we boarded our flight to Boise, Idaho.  Once in Sun Valley, we boarded a bus with four other groups, at the crack of dawn, for the hour and a half ride to the put in point on the river.  The safety talk was much briefer than I would have liked and after a quick fitting of helmets, life vests, and wet suits we were off.

The water levels were unexpectedly low for this time of year causing the rapids to be far more technical and challenging than anticipated by anyone including our guides.  Within only a few minutes our raft was thrown into a rough rapid that required enormous concentration and strength to carry out the commands being yelled at us by our guide in the back of the raft.  I thought to myself, "This is NOT bouncy and frolicky" like I had been told it would be.  On the contrary, I was finding this quite nerve wracking.  We maneuvered our way through the rapids, one after the next, following our guides commands.  My arms were sore, despite my attempts to get in shape prior to this journey, my hands ached, and I was starving.  Suddenly we were pulling over to the side of the river to be told that the sweep boat, that was carrying all of our supplies, had  gotten lodged onto rocks and we needed to stay put until it was moving again.  We waited patiently a good hour before we were on our way again, longing for the lunch I assumed we were eventually going to get.

The further down the river we got, the more challenging the rapids seem to get.  When our fourteen year old daughter was thrown from the raft into a rush of violent water, I raced to grab her watching her oar float away as the boat threatened to leave her in the current of frothing water. Her hand slipped through mine and panic filled my body. As I grabbed a hold of both sides of her life vest at the shoulders, as I had been told to do, I heard her say, "help me help me" and I pulled with a force I didn't know I had to heave her back into the safety of the boat.  I was shaking and on the verge of tears thinking that this was just more than I wanted to handle.  My daughter shook the fall off and was back to the business of doing her part to get us through the rapids but I seemed unable to let it go.  Fear took hold of me with an unrelenting grip.  After  a welcomed stop for lunch, I asked one of the other men to switch seats with me,  knowing that the front seat I had been in all morning was the most challenging and wettest seats.  I thought that perhaps giving someone else this responsibility  might allow some of my fear to loosen its hold on me.  Shortly into this second leg of the trip, this man, was violently launched into the rapids twice.  Each time we were able to retrieve him quickly but I could not help but wonder if I hadn't switched spots with him, would I have been the one to have joined the ranks of the middle fork river swimming club? This was a club I vowed I would do everything in my power to avoid becoming a member.

The real moment of terror occurred further down the river when my husband was hurled into a rapid head first down stream unable to swim to the boat feet first but also unable to flip his feet under to be able to swim to us because of the surrounding rocks.  During that brief safety talk, we were instructed to never stand up in the river.  Being an experienced river rafter, my husband knew that the most common cause of death on the rapids was caused by people getting a foot caught in a rock only to be pressed down by the force of the current to drown.  I grabbed his life vest but he could not position himself in a way to be pulled back into the boat.  He started to slip under the boat and the look of fear in his eyes filled my heart with a panic I have only experienced twice before in my life.  "Don't stand up" I screamed. "Help me" I yelled to others in the boat.  We got my dear husband back into the boat, though he was very badly banged up from being bounced around and dragged through rocks.   He was shaken up but like my daughter seemed able to let it go and continue doing what was needed to keep us moving forward.   I, on the other hand, was left in a state of fear that I was unable to shake.  I continued rowing but with an unrelenting fear in every stoke I took.  I wanted out of this boat and I wanted to know that my family was all going to be safe.

With each rapid, I grew increasingly more afraid and everyone in our boat knew it.  It was obvious as I screamed various things while our raft was getting thrown about into rocks.  During one rapid the water came up over the boat filling my entire splash jacket with its ice cold water.  I am too embarrassed to admit what I yelled out but it was not one of my finer moments.  At one point during a calm stretch, I said to a woman near me, "Do you know what is really ironic? I actually teach mindfulness for a living. I teach people how to reduce the stress in their lives."    She could not believe it.  Who could blame her?  I was a mess!  I was anything but in the present moment and I was anything but calm.  I was unable to be in the present moment but rather was in constant state of fear of the next rapid.  Thoughts of what would happen if one of our daughters or I got thrown into something like my husband had been hurled into filled my mind. Paralyzed by my fears, I trudged along following our guides' commands praying that we would make it to camp safely.  Twelve hours later, we all made it to camp emotionally and physically exhausted but safe.

I made light of how nervous I had been joking with others about how the mindfulness teacher was the most stressed out one in the boat.  However, during my time alone, I thought more seriously about the way I had experienced fear grabbing a hold of me.  I kept going back to what I emphasize when I teach mindfulness to others, about how important it is to be compassionate with ourselves, to not judge ourselves, to not go into practicing mindfulness with any set agenda of what is to happen but to simply allow everything to happen without judgement.  Here I was with a wonderful opportunity to practice that.  Could I just sit with this and be ok with the fact that I completely lost it for most of the day and was completely stuck in a place of fear unable to breath my way through to a place of peace and calm, unable to let go of the fear and stay in the present.  Could I treat myself with the same love and compassion that I would treat a child who was fearful.  How liberating it was to realize that in fact I could now do that for myself.  To just sit with knowing that I was really scared out there and that it really was ok that I wasn't able to somehow let go of the fear and just be in each moment.  I was not weak or doing anything wrong.  I was human and I had been afraid.  I could let go without adding to the stress of the day by now feeling bad that I had been so stressed.  Perhaps some of you have experienced what I am describing?  We can sometimes make a difficult situation even more challenging by how we punish ourselves for having done or not done things a certain way, for things we may have said or wished we had said, and the list can go on and on.  Today was what it was and tomorrow would be another day.

The other great lesson this journey taught all of our family came when we all got really honest with ourselves and with each other and decided that this trip was just too much for all of us.  That there really was no way that we could see ourselves keeping up this pace, physically or emotionally, for the entire six days and that it was OK for us to stop.  Knowing how much this trip meant to my husband and how hard he had worked to make it the perfect vacation, made his willingness to bail out mean so much to me and our two daughters.  To experience his love for his family be far greater than his need to make this trip be something that it just wasn't working out to be was in itself one of the greatest gifts of the trip.  We had teased him, in the months leading up to the trip, that he was like Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation but unlike Clark he was able to recognize when enough was enough and put the needs of himself and his family above everything else.  Once our decision had been made,  my dear husband used those same skills that got us into he river to get us out.  He arranged for us to paddle  down the river another ten miles to an airstrip, where we boarded a plane the size of my car to bring us out of the wilderness.  I am not sure that I could have boarded this rickety plane, that would be maneuvering through massive mountains, if I was not so desperate to leave those shallow rocky rapids.  We all climbed in with some trepidation knowing it was our only way out.  As I squeezed into the tiny seat, I was able to pause and in this moment I was able to choose to practice mindfulness.  I knew this would be a plane ride I would not enjoy and could potentially get stuck in that same state of fear that the rapids clutched me in.  Instead I made the decision to take this leg of the journey one moment at a time, keeping my attention on the breath and sensations in my body.  To appreciate the blessing in what I experienced, I must share that I have struggled with a fear of flying most of my adult life, at times needing to medicate to simply board a plane. Yet here I was, breathing and focusing on the sensations in my body, feeling nothing but peace and calm.  We had to stop shortly after taking off to refuel and the pilot explained to us that he needed to fly into the mountains "light" with little fuel to get the altitude needed to get us out and now needed to fill up to get us to the next airport.  Taking off I noticed his door was open and asked about that only to learn later that he does that in case the engine catches fire so that he can jump out with the fire extinguisher, that sat beneath my feet.  This was a fact that I was glad I did not learn in full until after we landed safely.

At last we were on our commercial flight heading back to phoenix.  We all had many mixed emotions but were all very glad to be heading home.  I was a bit sad that the trip had not turned out as my husband had hoped.  I felt sad for him, knowing he had put such effort into making this our perfect vacation and was surely wrestling with his own set of feelings over how it all went.  I was so grateful that we were all safe and very relieved to not still be on the river. I was emotionally and physically drained and exhausted.  Mostly, I felt blessed for the love we had for one another.  We had endured, helped each other through our various breakdowns, which inevitably happened at different points of the trip for each of us.  We had laughed our way through the challenges leaving us with many great and fun memories.  There were many challenges and there was much laughter.  In the end, we all were changed by this journey.  Perhaps not in the ways that my husband set out for us to be changed but changed nonetheless.

As with mindfulness practice, if we can just sit with this journey exactly as it was and not with how we wished it had been there is much to be learned.  I told my  husband  this evening that the lessons we can each learn from this might never have happened for us if it had been the"perfect family trip" he had hoped it would be.  Perhaps we were meant to feel the fear, exhaustion, frustration, be there for one another, laugh until our bellies hurt as we struggled through things to learn what we were meant to learn.  I like to believe that all happens exactly as it happens and it does.

My Journey to Wholeness

Over twenty years ago, I set off into the mountains of Montana for reasons that I was not quite sure of at the time.  I just knew that it was something I was meant to do.  Below is a picture of me as I set off to find what was to become my home for the next week. It was a challenging week but also one of great reflection and self discovery.  I went to sleep each night wearing a whistle around my neck so that when bear visited at night I had the means to scare them off.  That is right, a .99 whistle.  I would hike the duffle bag containing my food supply  away from camp each day to hang it high above in trees with the hopes of limiting those late night whistle blowing sessions.  I spent a few evenings kneeling tightly beside a tree searching for protection from violent electrical storms wondering why I thought a towering tree of wood was a safe haven.  I learned a lot living in nature those seven days.  I was trying to find a part or myself that I felt I had lost or perhaps trying to discover a part of myself I had not yet come to know.  I knew that I wanted to slow down.  I wanted to have time to just be.  I wanted to write and I wanted to feel connected to something greater than myself.  I wanted to be in the present moment wherever that was.   One evening in my tent, I wrote the following poem in my journal:
All The Way -
On my journey to wholeness I strive
Seeking a balance
An inner peacefulness

Stars shine with brilliance
Clouds thunderously clamor
Winds burst through me
Carrying my spirit soaring
The rain beats rhythmically 
Chanting its sacred mantra

May my higher being guide me
With each passing day
Protect and Comfort me
As I strive to discover.....
     All The Way

A lot of life has been lived since I was that young woman looking to find herself in those woods.  I am married to an amazing man and my best friend raising two incredible teenage daughters.  I look at my job now teaching Mindfulness at an amazing center and the title of my blog - A journey Through Mindfulness, and I just smile.  My life has been an amazing journey through Mindfulness. The quest for peace has always been with me and it is this quest that has led me to where I am now.
As I sit writing this blog post, I have beside my a packing list for an adventure our family is about to embark on.  It is now my husband's turn to go deep into the wilderness for a week of just being and his dream includes sharing the experience with his "three girls".   We will be white water rafting and camping along the middle fork of the Salmon River in Idaho for five nights.  It is also called the Frank Church river of No Return Wilderness but that "No Return" part puts me off a bit so I go by the Middle fork of the Salmon.  There will be no wifi which means no technology the entire time we are out on the river. I think having the gift of all four of us disconnected with no cell phones, i-pads, lap tops, or technology of any kind is one of the things that I am most excited about.   As I was all of those years ago, I find myself nervous, terrified, and excited all at the same time.  Our two teenage daughters think Dad has lost his mind and can't think of anything they would rather do less. I believe they will have a different perspective after the experience.  At least I am hoping so.  I am not a big white water rapids fan so I have my own reservations but I do believe that extraordinary things can happen when we can just be at one with ourselves in nature.  I believe that memories for a lifetime will be made and I look forward to sleeping under the stars and telling stories around a campfire with my beautiful family looking back at the journey that has been traveled smiling as I remember that poem written so long ago. What an amazing ride it has been! I look forward to what I have to share with you all once we return.