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.

A very special evening!

I started this blog for a few different reasons.  I love to write and decided that if I want to get better at my writing, I need to practice.  I also have a strong desire to share, not only all that I have learned and continue to learn about Mindfulness, but also to share parts of my personal journey living with Multiple Sclerosis.  We all live with  challenges and I find that through my writing, I am able to connect with people from all walks of life in a very meaningful way.
 I begin this blog by thanking all of you who take the time to read and share your thoughts and feelings with me.  I am deeply touched by the stories and feelings people share and I treasure the way this blog allows me to  connect with so many different people.
Tonight is a very significant and special evening for me that I would like to share with you.   I am leading an eight week series on Mindfulness Stress Reduction that began tonight.  Standing before this group of very special men and women, discussing a topic  that  I have come to be passionate about, is a gift like no other.
Locking up and walking back to my car, I realize that this is a big moment for me.  As I put my car in drive to begin the trip  home, an enormous smile fills my face and I realize that I feel incredibly proud of myself and the journey that I have travelled.  I have wanted to lead a class like this for close to twelve years, ever since I first participated in Jon Kabot-Zinn's Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction program.  I realize that all of the steps that I have taken over the years on my quest to heal myself have gotten me to this place in my life, where I can now share the wealth of that knowledge with others.
When I was first hired to work at A Mindfulness Life Center, the executive director said to me, "I see you doing great things at this center.  I believe in you and now just have to get you to believe in yourself".  It meant so much to hear her say those things to me and I thought to myself, "She is right. I need to believe in myself more".  Tonight is one of those nights when I just say, "YES!!!"  because I finally believe in myself and am enormously grateful for every challenge and blessing in my life that has shaped me and made me the woman that I am today.  I am so excited to see where this next chapter in my life takes me.  For now, I am so grateful for this incredible opportunity to lead this special group on this beautiful journey through mindfulness!

Dancing With It

It often feels as though this uninvited guest, MS, thinks only of itself when choosing to intrude upon my life.  With little warning or concern it comes crashing in assaulting my body in a multitude of ways.  It is sneaky in how it disrupts my life often leaving no visible signs of the damage it is causing.  “You look so good”, I often hear.  Loss of vision, diminished memory, numbness, fatigue that leaves you unable to speak in complete sentences, and a nervous system that becomes so sensitive that even listening to your children speak can become a challenge are often not detectable to the outside world. I wonder if I were in a wheel chair would people be able to see me more clearly? It is frustrating to be joyously dancing along to the rhythm of life one moment and then forced to change the tempo of that dance. This guest or partner that I did not choose is also my greatest teacher when I allow it.  I simply need to extend an open arm and welcome it when it asks me to dance.  The rest just happens naturally. Together we learn, heal, grow, and touch others.  We choreograph a beautiful dance of life together.

It is the day after Christmas and I awake to find something not quite right with my eyes. As the day passes by it takes my vision prisoner. It is a holiday weekend and seems that doctors have not gotten the memo that a young mother in her thirties is finding herself in a pervasive darkness with no idea of the cause. The walk in clinic doctor suggests over the counter psuedafed for a sinus infection.  While I am no doctor this just doesn’t make sense to me.  I am not congested. I am loosing my vision!  A late night phone call to the emergency room asking if it is safe for me to go to sleep given the events that have transpired since waking this cold December morning. They aren’t sure.  Days later, numerous scans and visits to an array of different specialists and I am beginning to see things clearer though still very much in darkness.  I am in some sort of wonder woman mode keeping busy with the tasks at hand raising two small girls needing to prove to everyone, especially myself, that everything is going to be ok.  It has to be. I keep looking at the numbers on the microwave clock hoping they will come in to focus.  They never do.  A well intended nurse arrives to teach me how to self administer  a five day course of an IV steroid treatments.  I don’t feel comfortable with this set up. This shunt is fasted to my arm with tape but it doesn’t belong in my slight vein and I am not trained in this sort of thing. I have a degree in fashion merchandising and am being spoken to as if I have a nursing degree.  The nurse leaves and against my wishes I am left alone holding back the tears as the taste of metal fills my mouth while the cold medicine fills my veins.  This treatment is reducing the inflammation that is the cause of my vision loss but mostly it leaves me jacked up and frantically cleaning an already spotless home.  

Still in denial, I go about my life convinced this is an isolated incident. Three years pass supporting this theory that I need to be true.  Then it happens again.  That second episode separated by space and time that doctors warned would come. I am in church one uneventful Sunday morning when I begin to notice my thumb disappearing.  I can see it attached to my hand but the sensations are gone.  Not again I think,  frantically touching the surrounding areas to see if it is just my thumb falling asleep perhaps. Willing it to wake up but I know that is not going to be the case.  Fear settles in as I listen to the minister unable to hear what he is saying.  By the time I get in to see a doctor, half of my body has left me.  More tests, scans, and specialists reveal unwanted news.  I concede to allowing the doctors to take some of my spinal fluid which is something they urged me to do three years prior but i refused.  That fluid belongs in my spine and I don’t want to part with it.  Somehow sitting here unable to feel half of my body, I begin to think that perhaps I should just listen to the voices that belong to the white coats surrounding me.  If piercing a needle in my spine will give me definitive answers after three years of wondering well then I decide that it is fine. They take my fluid and then the picture becomes clearer now than it once was and I have a diagnosis. I do not want this diagnosis but it is there for me to have. 

I ask the doctor to give me a moment while I process the news he has casually thrown at me.  His response is unacceptable.  “It is OK to be devastated by this news.  It is devastating news.  This will likely debilitate you one day.”  Certain this doctor must have been absent on the day that his training covered how to deliver unwanted news to wide eyed patients.  What happened to looking at the glass half full? This doctor is taking my precious glass that I have managed to keep half full for over thirty year and smashing it right before my eyes.  I grab my scans  and turn towards the door fully aware that I will never be back.  I will find a different doctor. The silence down the elevator and to the car with my husband is deafening. I had somehow recovered my half full glass and held it tightly beneath my arm.  I needed this glass now more than ever.  The lessons of the power of positive thinking that I was raised on were serving as a lifeline as I found my way to the car.  My husband was diving right into this dreadful moment with me never letting go. I could see his heart hurting.  How could I lift the fear from his heart when I could hardly feel my own beating? How would  I tell people? What would I tell our children? It was all too much.  I wanted to go back to my happy place of denial but that was a place I could no longer return.  Back home, I escape to the privacy of my bathroom.  It feels easier to be alone with this news.  Standing in the checkered tiled shower, the tears of the past three years escape.  I scare myself at the sound of my gut wrenching sobs and grasp for my half full jar.  That jar of hope, strength, a belief that I can endure. The sobs are quickly replaced with a quiet stillness unlike any before.  Peace replaces the fear.  Strength and courage replace doubt and uncertainly.  Somehow I know that this is not happening TO me for any bad reason.  Rather, this is most certainly a gift or an opportunity for me.  I might not know it now but I feel certain that in time the answers will reveal themselves and I will somehow use this experience to help others.  This isn't the plan I want for myself, as a mother of two young little girls, but this is the hand I am being dealt and I will learn from it, grow with it, and touch others through it. This I know to be true. 

Relapse remitting the doctors say.  This is a fancy way of saying that I have periods of time during which I feel great and can live my life on my terms.  The other part of this statement means that when I least expect it, my body might have very different plans for me and whether I want to or not, I have to dance along shifting and adjusting to accommodate its agenda for me.

These moments creep up on me when i least expect them but there is a rhythm to this dance.  Most often it raises its voice at me when I am overdoing things, not listening to my body, not giving it the rest or nutrition it needs.   Sometimes it just decides to intrude despite my best efforts to keep it away. 

Recently skiing Telluride mountain with my family, the temperature is close to fifty degrees and yet my legs feel like frozen pillars that might crumble at any  moment.  Flanked by snow covered pine trees, on the most amazing ski run of my time and my legs are choosing NOW to argue with me! Please not now.  I so dislike the way this uninvited guest in my life knocks on my door whenever if pleases with little to no regard to my plans. How selfish! I manage to escape a relapse this time but can feel an old familiar tug that is like a warning siren screaming to me to slow down.  Sometimes I just like to live my life fast but I know better than to argue with this partner of mine.  I know when it is time to listen.  This has become a learned art over the years.    A few weeks pass and I find myself practicing on my deep lavender meditation cushion.  These periods of stillness each day have become a trusted and loyal friend to me over the years.  They are on my side and together we work hard to keep these unwanted interruptions in my life to a minimum.  This time, however, the stillness is speaking to me firmly.  It is letting me know that it is time to adjust, to shift, to recognize my partner in this dance and respect it once again. I know what this partner wants from me though must admit that my spoiled self doesn’t want to give in to its demands.  It angers me.  Not now. Not again. I have things that I want to be doing.  I don’t want to slow down. The years have taught me well though and so I will do what must be done trusting that it will lead me to where I am intended to go.  The beauty in this dance is that I am beginning to really understand that when I listen to my partner ,MS MySelf, and respect it, we usually find a balance that allows me to remain healthy and participate in my life fully.  The beauty rests in the moments when I am able to see that where it has led me is even more beautiful than where I might have landed if left to my own devices. So I continue on one day at a time, practicing, listening, trusting, hoping, and enduring.  Life is my teacher and I am grateful for each and every lesson along the way.  

The Mountain as a Teacher

Rental car loaded,  all of us ready to hit the road by 6:00 am, and we were off to Telluride.  A destination I had dreamed of visiting for quite some time. Once we arrived, the beauty around me far exceeded my expectations and I had only seen the surface of what was to come the following day.  I knew that this would be a very special trip to share quality time with the family but I also knew there was going to be even more about this trip that would make it memorable.

We boarded the chair lift the following morning that would carry us to the lofty peek high in the sky.  A brief overview of the map told us that there was one run that looked like it would be manageable, without landing any of us in one of those dreadful ski patrol baskets.  With a name as inviting as See Forever, I didn't see how we could pass it up.  As soon as we were released from the lift, I was overcome with an immediate visceral reaction to my surroundings.  In each direction that I looked, the endless beauty was more spectacular than the previous glance.  There were no words to describe what I was absorbing.  Off to the right, the tiny dots of men and women, far braver or perhaps somewhat crazier than I, were trekking by foot up to an even higher summit, where they were then clipping on their skies to perform terrain that I could not even imagine attempting.  They were floating through an untouched snow bowl that looked as if it might swallow a human attempting to cross through it. How were they managing that? Then I spotted a person in a cocoon type bag attached to wings literally soaring through the sky.  I was without words and quite honestly blown away.  I had never seen such pure beauty.  I felt so free, so calm, so at peace, and so grateful to be witnessing this creation of nature.   I could not really put to words why I needed to be up at this peak so often during our trip but I knew that I was being deeply touched and changed during my time alone in nature high in the sky. I knew that I would return home to write about my time with this mountain though not entirely sure what the words would be sharing.
It hit me while on one of my runs down See Forever.  My legs ached to the point that I questioned if they would carry me down this mountain safely. I knew that I was overdoing it and that the sensible thing to do was to call it a day and retreat to my cozy bed of the hotel room.  Sensible perhaps but I also knew that I felt called to stay out and just experience this  mountain to the fullest.  I knew there was a lesson that I was meant to learn and that the answers were somewhere up on this majestic peek. I have come to know my body very intimately over the years, living with a physical condition that can at times be very challenging.  I knew there would be a price to pay for indulging in this rigorous activity but I also was mindful that I had a choice in the matter. This is a sport that I have loved since childhood and as long as my legs would allow me to continue it, I was going to go for it each and every chance that I had.  I also knew that it would just entail listening to my body and allowing it the proper chance to recover once we returned home.  I felt grateful to have realized that I have arrived at the point in my life when I can listen to my body and make sensible choices but also let myself indulge from time to time returning back to the sensible business of taking care of myself. I felt happy in the realization that I have come to understand my relationship with MS and we have our own certain song and dance together that allows me to enjoy my life, while also taking care of myself.
The more my legs began to burn and shake, the more closely I felt connected to the mountain and what it was trying to tell me. Suddenly it began to become clear to me why I was so drawn to this spot on the mountain and this particular run where I could truly see forever.
From the views that this spot allowed me, I was struck at how this mountain just sits, constantly changing,  yet always being itself.  On this particular day the mountain was wrapped in a blanket of sunshine with nearly no winds assaulting it.  The forecast told us that before long this solid mass would be enshrouded in clouds buffeted by wind and snow.  In a few short months, spring will come and the snow will melt away allowing the streams below to fill with water, while flowers bloom in the meadows. In summer there will be no snow on the mountain except perhaps for the peaks.  Birds will sing again. In the fall the mountain will take on a new face of beauty as the leaves turn a myriad of brilliant colors and an autumn crispness will fill the air.  Through all of the changes this mountain sits through it remains centered, rooted, and unwavering.  Whether in the light of day or the darkness of the moon, the mountain just sits experiencing each moment exactly as it is.  It is always itself no matter what the changes around it are.  As the weather changes moment by moment, day by day, it remains there in its stillness unchanged.  No matter the season, the presence of visitors or not, it just sits unmoved.  It dawned on me, as I pushed myself down for yet one more run, that if we can learn to experience the mountain, we too can become rooted, still and grounded in our lives.  No matter what the challenges of our lives, whether we are in our own personal lightness or darkness, experiencing moments of pain or joy, we can become like the mountain and use these experiences to strengthen us. Like the mountain, we might come to know a deeper silence, stillness and wisdom in our lives.  This is what this mountain had to teach me.

When We Follow Our Hearts, We Will Always Find Our Way

Living a life of Mindfulness has allowed me to discover more of who I am at my core, to come to  better understand my purpose in life, and to recognize opportunities when they present themselves in my life.  Living Mindfully with intention and awareness and practicing meditation daily have been great teachers to me over the years.
As I have shared in previous blogs, my interest in mindfulness began years ago, when a diagnosis of MS left me searching for ways to reduce the stress in my life.  I did not realize it then but it was the beginning of what would prove to be a life altering journey that would not only help me with my own personal healing but would eventually lead me to sharing the lessons learned along the way with others.
When that first MS episode robbed me of the vision in my right eye, I remember knowing deep in my heart that I was loosing my vision so that I could SEE something that I was meant to see.  Though I was uncertain what it was at the time, I knew that there was a purpose greater than myself at play.  In fact, the word MySelf kept coming back to me as is if were a comforting blanket. MySelf. I began to see this condition that doctors labeled Multiple Sclerosis, as representing MySelf. The MS began to symbolize what it was that I was meant to learn and see through living with this condition.
Little did I know that it would take years before I would begin to gain the clarity I was looking for.
Over the years, I sought out to learn as much as I could from as many different teachers as I could find.
I attended Jon Kabat Zinn's eight week Mindfulness Stress Reduction Program and later worked as an assistant teaching the program to others, began a daily meditation practice, worked with a couple of gifted counselors, attended morning prayer groups and weekly church services, was a part of a hands on healing group, practiced yoga and researched various exercise programs that were helpful to those living with MS.  I studied the benefits of essential oils, nutrition, and positive thinking.   I experimented with acupuncture, massage therapy, and got my level I Reiki certification.  I continued being an avid journal keeper and read books on a vast array of topics, mostly having to do with healing.  I attended weekend retreats on Mindfulness and various healing modalities across the country.  I prayed often and trusted that God had a plan in all of this for me.  I was a living sponge absorbing all that I could from anyone I felt drawn to.
 Throughout this time, my own meditation practice continued and my belief in the power of Mindfulness continued to grow. I was living the benefits and was feeling an ever growing desire to share with others what I was benefiting from.  An article in the New York Times led me to the Institute of Life Coach Training, where I graduated from a program as a certified Life Coach specializing in women's wellness.  I knew that I was moving in the right direction but still had a nagging sense that there were things I was not yet seeing clearly.
A move across country with my family landed me in Arizona.  At the time, I remember questioning why life was leading me to the desert but comforted with an all knowing sense that I was meant to be making this move for reasons that I could not see at the time.
During this time in my life, I was still practicing my daily meditation and studying different things of interest while I was adjusting to living across the country from a town where I had lived for over forty years.  I began running and surprised myself when I completed my first and only half marathon.  I spent time studying the bible with a group of women learning a great deal about my own personal faith.  I became an avid follower of Dr. Terry Wahls.  Many in the MS community know her well.  She is a neurologist with progressive MS, which had left her confined to a wheel chair unable to do most everything she had once enjoyed.  When all medications were proving ineffective for her, she began her own research studying the connection between nutrition and MS.   Implementing the research she was conducting, she was soon out of her wheelchair hiking mountains.  The more that I followed her work, the more committed I became to incorporating her protocol into my life.  While not easy to adapt to this rather restrictive diet, I believe the results have been indisputable.  That will be a separate blog entry all of its own.
Late this summer, my husband came across A Mindfulness Life Center while out one day.  I was back east at the time and still remember his call to tell me about this center.  " I found the perfect spot for you", I heard him excitedly telling me over the phone.  My dear husband could not have been more right. From the moment I set foot in the center, I knew that I was meant to be there.  I quickly enrolled in the unlimited membership taking full advantage of the many classes, series, and workshops that were offered.  I loved everything about it and still the sponge I had become all of those years past, I just kept soaking up all that it had to offer.  It was not long before I began thinking seriously about wishing that I worked there.  I kept thinking about how much I would love to be a part of this center in an even greater capacity.
A few months after I began spending much of my free time at the Mindfulness Center, I had another MS episode of optic neuritis.  While I was grateful that this episode was not nearly as severe as the first one years back, it did leave me in a rather blurry state for a period of time.  I can't say that I am surprised that it was during this time of blurriness that I began to see with a greater clarity the wonderful opportunity that might possibly happen for me, if I believed in myself and worked to make it happen.  So I tackled my own self doubt issues that were getting in my way, and went about asking the center for a job.  As fate would have it, they were looking for someone and I was blessed to be the person who they hired for the job.  The pivotal moment for me, in the whole process, was when the executive director said to me, " I believe in you.  Now we just have to get you to believe in yourself."
How right she was! After the very first meditation class that I led, I had what I like to call a major "AH HA" moment.  So many years practicing, studying under great teachers, seeking and learning as the student and there I was on the other side of the cushion guiding others through a meditation.  It was almost surreal for me.  In that moment of guiding this group of men and women through this 45 minute class, it was as if I could at last SEE what it was that I was meant to see all of those years back.  In those 45 minutes, I was exactly where I was meant to be.  After the meditation ended, I asked if anyone had questions or comments they wished to share.  In listening to these people open their hearts up to me,  I was caught by surprise at how deeply touched I was as I listened to them share of their experiences.  After so many years of wanting to share what was in my heart with others, it was in their sharing with me that the real magic was found.  The walk back to my office was one I will not forget because each step that I took, in the quiet stillness that surrounded me, I felt overcome with a tremendous sense of accomplishment and gratitude.  To some it might not have looked like much but to me it was huge.  It was symbolic of something far greater than guiding a meditation class.  For me, this opportunity to connect with these people on this deep and personal level, through sharing something that I have been practicing for such long time on my own, was such a gift.  In that moment, a lump filled my throat as I could feel that I was at long last truly seeing what it was I could feel tugging at me all of those years ago. I was seeing who I had become over these years and I smiled at my own reflection.  I knew in that moment, as I got back to my desk, that this is just the beginning of this next chapter in my life and I am indeed exactly where I am meant to be.

MINDFULNESS - A VITAL PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

The more involved I get with my own mindfulness practice and the work that I am fortunate to be doing at A Mindfulness Life Center, the more I am experiencing some trepidation and judgement from people in my life.  Where does this resistance and judgement come from?
I have had people ask me, "Is Mindfulness a cult?" or "What is it that I am seeking in a Buddha based practice"?  I have listened as people have shared with me some of the overwhelming stress in their lives, while telling me that they desperately need something like a mindfulness class but just don't have time.  I have not really understood where the resistance or the judgement have been coming from but I have felt a longing to somehow help people better understand exactly what mindfulness is.  Mindfulness is really quite simply, paying attention. You can be laying on a mat in a quiet yoga studio, you can be folding laundry, driving in rush hour traffic, reading the bible, cooking dinner and be doing all of those things mindfully, if you are fully present in each moment.

While my daily practice involves time where I intentionally draw away from noise and activity so that I can reach a deeper state of relaxation, while still remaining fully conscious, the real challenge and benefits come when I take that mindset out into my daily life.  I like to think of it as a muscle that I am training.  Each time I practice Mindfulness, I am training my mind to be at peace. The more that I practice, the quicker my mind remembers this natural state and the easier it becomes to go back to that place.

Mindfulness is practiced by men, women and children from all walks of life, all ages, all different faiths, and all different life experiences.  Today I had the pleasure of talking with a young firefighter, a professional athlete trainer, several working men and women, several stay at home moms, several retired men and women who had one thing in common.  They were all attending a mindfulness class with a desire to create more peace in their lives.  I have no idea what their religious beliefs are and it makes no difference.  Mindfulness is not a religion based practice.  It is not a "cult" or anything trying to convert anyone from or to anything.  It is true that yoga and some forms of meditation come from the Buddhist culture just as all things originate from someplace.  While mindfulness can be practiced during yoga and meditation, mindfulness is not the practice of Buddhism.  Mindfulness is not meant to replace anything but I believe it is a vital piece of the puzzle in our lives as we strive to create more harmony, peace, and balance.

Sometimes It Is In The Darkness That We Find The Light

My first MS episode began Christmas night close to twelve years ago. It started as just a terrible headache that I attributed to the hectic Christmas season entertaining family, staying up late to prepare Christmas for our small children. and just plain and simple running myself a bit ragged.  However,  the following morning, I woke to an unusual sensation in my eyes. To move my eyes was excruciating.  My husband assured me it was an optical migraine, which he had suffered from before.   As the day passed by my vision began to fade and I knew that something was not at all right with this situation.  A trip to urgent care resulted in being told to take sinus medicine, which didn’t make sense to me at all.  I was not a doctor but I knew that I wasn’t congested,  I was loosing my vision!  By the end of that day, I had lost all vision in one eye and the other was fading fast.  The rest of the story is a long and tedious one but in the end I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, a potentially debilitating disease of the central nervous system. My immune system was attacking the myelin sheath protecting my optic nerves. Over the next six months my vision slowly returned.  I was left with color blindness and the loss of peripheral vision in one eye but despite some remaining blurriness, I was fortunate to regain my vision. There is much that I will be sharing in the future about what I have learned living with this chronic health condition and the ways that it has been an enormous blessing in my life, despite some of the challenges along the way.  For today, I wish to share with you the gift that temporarily loosing my eyesight gave to me. I hope to share with you about how I believe the darkness can teach us what we need to know.

Whether it is a literal darkness we are in or we are going through a dark time in our lives, we can ask the darkness to teach us what we need to know.  It can guide us if we allow it to and it can be a great teacher. 

As frightened as I was, I knew that I needed to allow the darkness to teach me whatever it was I was meant to learn from this experience.  I knew that this was not happening to harm me but rather to guide me. During the dark times in our lives, we can choose to hide in fear and to keep ourselves so busy that we don’t have to feel anything. We also have another option and that is to walk straight into the pain, challenge, or fear.  We can go inward and if we can just sit still with things, profound changes can occur. 

For me, during this time in my life, when my vision left me for those six months, I chose to give up being in control.  I was frightened and I had a lot of bumps along the way but I allowed the darkness and the fear to be my teachers.  I learned to say “no” out of necessity and to give myself permission to no longer live my life trying to be some version, that I had created in my own mind, of what it was to be the perfect mom, wife, daughter, and friend. I could quite simply do the best that I could do and honor that. I could love myself despite my flaws and in fact, at times, because of them.

I have learned things in the dark that I never would have learned in the light, things that have changed my life in the most profound and remarkable ways.  The extent to which I learn to live in the darkness, I also learn to experience the light with all of its magical brilliance. So I can determine that I need darkness as much as I need light.

SO Simple Though Not Easy

I had the pleasure of beginning my day this morning by taking a Yoga Nidra class at The Mindfulness Life Center with a uniquely gifted teacher and beautiful group of men and women.  For those of you who may not know what Yoga Nidra is, it is a set of deep relaxation techniques that can lead you to a meditative state allowing the body to reach the deepest possible states of relaxation while still maintaining full consciousness.
After a few poses to loosen up the body in preparation for the practice, you are instructed to get as comfortable as possible as quickly as possible using whatever props you prefer.  I am quite serious about my comfort so I waste no time getting all cozy in my blankets, with bolster pillow to support my legs, pillow to cradle my head, eye pillow to soothe my eyelids, a few adjustments and I am ready to go! From that point on, the only instructions are to stay as still as possible and to remain awake.  No two sessions are exactly alike but the principles are the same in that we are guided to deeper and deeper states of relaxation using a variety of methods.  The hour passes by much too quickly and before I know it I am being led back to the present slowly and gently by the calming words of my instructor.
As I slowly come back into the room, I find my way to a seated position basking in the deep peace I have just experienced marveling at how something so simple can bring about such profound changes.  Often this is a time for sharing with one another about how the meditation went for each of us.  I look forward to this portion of the experience as much as the heavenly time laying motionless on my back because I am constantly learning ways to carry this experience out of the studio and into my daily life.  Today I heard my most favorite quote when the man to my right, still foggy from his hour of bliss, gently whispered,  "It just feels SO good. Thats all. Plain and simple".  He was so right! Plain and simple.....Mindfulness is so simple though not always easy.
When we allow ourselves to release and let go, we return to who we are at the core and we are then able to get a taste of the inner peacefulness that is always there.  The more that I practice mindfulness and tap into this inner beauty, experiencing just how good it feels, the more I want to be in that state throughout my days.  The challenge is to take what I practice in the safety of the center out into the world and still be able to harness that feeling no matter what is happening around me.
Who out there doesn't want to experience more peace in their daily lives?  "It just feels SO good.  That's all.  Plain and Simple".

Welcome to A Journey Through Mindfulness

Welcome to my new blog A Journey Through Mindfulness.  My name is Jennifer and I am excited to share bits and pieces of my own personal journey with living life mindfully with intention and awareness.  I will also be sharing posts about living with a chronic health condition and the many things that I have learned over the years which have allowed me to manage a condition, that can at times be challenging, in ways that have left me empowered and grateful for the lessons I find it teaching me along the way.
My own personal journey with Mindfulness came years ago while reading Jon Kabot Zinn's book Full Catastrophe Living after being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  It has been a remarkable life altering journey of growth, exploration, and healing.  Now as a member and employee at a Mindfulness Life Center and someone who has always loved to write, I have decided to share some of my journey with those of you who will be interested in reading.
I welcome feedback from any of you interested in sharing as I hope to learn from you through this process of my own personal sharing.
Namaste!