Where is your disappearing place?
What place makes you remember your freedom, your self, your own breath?
Where can you truly feel “away from it all” for a soul-filling minute?
Where is your disappearing place?
What place makes you remember your freedom, your self, your own breath?
Where can you truly feel “away from it all” for a soul-filling minute?
The other day I sat down and wrote a schedule that would help me actually do all the things I want to do every day, every week. I did that a while ago, too. And before that. And again and again and again. And it HAS HELPED. Every time. But it has never “worked” impeccably. Schedules, to-do lists, planning sessions–they’ve never guaranteed lasting consistency in my life. I’ve had to keep trying again.
Like in meditation, where you keep wandering, so you keep gently redirecting your mind.
For years I saw the ebbs and flows of life as a weakness. And “weakness” meant BAD. I don’t really see it that way anymore.
Life comes in waves. In cycles. In “I’ve-got-this” weeks and “I-can’t-even” weeks. And I’m thinking, more and more, that . . . c’est la vie.
Imagine the alternative: Being ALWAYS ON. Going at the same pace through all of life. Never feeling the low times again. Never taking a break from your productivity. Never understanding the “struggle” that all your friends and family experience. Being perfectly consistent. I don’t think that’s how life works. In fact, I think the cycles help us self-regulate, and help us change with life’s seasons.
The cycles in life help us make little mini-course corrections–or sometimes not so mini. Sometimes my heart or my body or my subconscious says something like “Hey, too heavy on the socializing these days,” or “I think you might need to slow down,” or even “I think it’s time for something a little more meaningful.” And then for a while, I become a little more this and a little less that. For a season. Until it’s time to correct again.
In other words, it’s okay for life to be up and then down, back and then forth, busy and then slow, happy and then sad, productive and then relaxing. It’s okay that today-me and tomorrow-me and next-year me are each going to be a little different.
Let yourself not be always “on.”
Let yourself change. Let yourself throw caution to the wind today, stay in bed all day tomorrow, and then go conquer the world the next day.
In the context of that disclaimer, and only in the context of that disclaimer, I’d encourage you to try two little things every day. The mountain-top days and the valley-days. Two little things with big impact:
First, keep one centering ritual:
One thing that brings you back to who and where and why you are. Some days the ritual will open your eyes to exhaustion in yourself, and some days the ritual will open your eyes to an almost limitless energy. How important to know which days you need a break and which days you need to give it everything you’ve got! Some days the ritual will show you that you are at peace, and some days it will show you that you’re torn. Good! You know what you’re working with! It’s about slowing down and seeing you and your world.
Over the last several years I’ve learned that for me it’s a mixture of quiet time, meditation, and yoga. And if I can do it first thing in the morning, I will be so much more present that day. Not always more “happy” or “productive,” just more present in reality. Able to show up for my real life instead of wishing it away.
What is that centering ritual for you?
And second, keep one difficult ritual:
Being who we want to be every day, choosing our reaction to life’s roller coasters, takes strength. And not the strength to choose “positivity” every single time, or to choose “productivity” every single time. Just the strength and discipline to say, “Today, I think this is what I want or need,” and then to follow through. Don’t underestimate the power of doing one difficult thing–maybe even one “painful” thing–every single day. If you were able to do that tough thing–that thing you don’t “like” or that didn’t feel good . . . then when the consequential choices show up later in the day, the opportunities to be who you really want to be . . . you’ll remember that you are strong!
At times, for me, that has looked like really uncomfortable running training. Pushing myself past what I thought my limits were. Keeping up that pace even when it’s not “fun.” I’m not always a proponent of that, but it has had its incredibly effective place in my life as a tool for learning discipline. The correlation between the running-as-discipline and making-the-choices-I-really-want times of my life has been pretty shockingly close. Lately, it’s been wrapping up my morning shower with a blast of icy cold water and just standing under it for a while while I find my controlled, capable breath. It just proves to me first thing in the morning that today I can pick the uncomfortable option or make the tough decisions or do the scary things if I need to.
What is that difficult, strength-finding ritual for you?
Good luck, my friend, as you show up for your life and choose to be the Light you want to be in the world, every single day. And it’s okay that it will look different day to day. Just don’t lose YOU in all the waves.
~ namaste ~
P.S. And if you ever do lose you, just wake up the next morning, check in on your heart, and take a cold shower.
P.P.S. You’ve got this!
Nobody actually says–or at least nobody actually gets to say–that just because you’re a “grown up” now, you have to stick to the sidewalk.
Hop up on the wall, if it’s calling your name, and teeter your way along in the sky above the sidewalk for a while.
Or abandon the sidewalk entirely and crunch through the leaves as you venture into the woods.
You are still human. There is still wonder. You are still free, child.
My best friend gave me a little figurine of a meditating Buddha. Its head was still on.
I meditate and I really like Buddhism. In a nutshell to me, it’s about letting go of our need for things to be just-so.
Our first big excursion to the mountains since my last concussion, a long road trip to the Canadian Rockies. . . . I was really nervous as we prepared to leave, because travel is my thing and mountains are my best friend’s happy place . . . but my concussion on our last adventure had done a number on me, and each month since then had felt hard, sad, gloomy–anything-but-adventurous.
So I brought my little Buddha along. To remind me not to hold on too tightly to my expectations for the trip. To help me know that it would be okay if everything didn’t end up being just-so. Its head was still on.
Things did NOT go just-so.
Morning, middle-of-nowhere, Saskatchewan, my adventure buddy’s wrist started hurting where a few days earlier she burned it on the stove. It started getting red and it became a small bump. By the end of the day it was a not-at-all-small bump, the entire arm too painful to use much. We checked into our Canmore hotel and after several frustrating calls to insurance we drove to the local emergency room where after a quick glance the doctor hooked her up to an IV for antibiotics.
Four visits to the emergency room in three days. Fevers, dizziness, red lines starting to spread, needles, blood draws, tubes installed in my best friend’s arm, a panicky midnight outing to find a thermometer interrupted by my phone ringing and my best friend telling me that she was now shaking so violently she could hardly hold onto anything.
Honestly, it was scary as hell. I think scarier for me than for her. It got a lot worse before it got better, and I knew that an infection going bad isn’t a thing you want to experience.
Just out of the woods, day two or three–the days became a blur of emergency room and hotel room–I hopped in the car to go pick up some groceries–completely drained of every kind of energy. I grabbed my little Buddha and held it in my palm as I drove, more for its vague feeling of comfort and familiarity than for anything else.
I hopped out of the car at the grocery store and tossed my little Buddha into the center console, and heard two things bouncing around. I picked it up. Its head was gone.
*feeling when your heart sinks but even sinkier*
I broke my little Buddha. :(
And then I sort of grinned. No sh**, may as well, everything else is broken. I guess it’s exactly appropriate that my little token of not-holding-on-too-tightly broke.
At first I thought about replacing it, but more and more it seemed perfect to me that it stay broken. Because now–every time I see it on my desk–I remember just how much holding on too tightly doesn’t work. That “broken” is only “broken” in the context of my need for things to be just-so.
In the 5th century BCE, a man named Siddhartha Gautama lived in what is now Nepal. His family was wealthy, but he was struck by the pain and suffering he saw in the world, so he tried being intentionally-poor instead. It didn’t “work” for him, so he embraced “the middle way”–a life of moderation: not desperately seeking ease and pleasure, but also not seeking pain and self-abasement. In all this practice, he learned a lot about life and then he taught the people around him a lot about life and then he became known as “The Buddha.”
“Dharma,” the teachings of The Buddha, have at their heart the “four noble truths.” Dukkha, Samudaya, Nirodha, and Magga. And the first three are why I love my little broken Buddha.
Dukkha: Suffering is a thing. It’s a part of life.
Samudaya: Why is suffering a thing? Because we think things are supposed to be just-so. We crave pleasure, we desperately try to control, and we hold on too tightly to what we think we want or need or love. Attachment.
“According to Buddhist psychology, most of our troubles stem from attachment to things that we mistakenly see as permanent.” ~ Dalai Lama
Nirodha: There is an antidote to suffering: Letting go of attachments, obsessive cravings, and desperate control, and living–not in a bitter past or an anxious future–but fully in the present, one day at a time. Acceptance.
What are you holding onto too tightly?
I still bring my little broken Buddha with me whenever I go out of town or when I have a big scary thing that I think needs to go just-so.
It’s a perfect reminder not to hold on too tightly.
Things break. Things hurt. Things fade.
Life is weird, and needing it to not be weird will only lead to frustration.
But life is also beautiful. And a strange and strong beauty and peace can be felt when you let go of your need for things to be just-so. . . . when you remember not to hold on too tightly.
“The root of suffering is attachment.” ~ The Buddha
Do you remember having to take naps as a kid? Being forced to just lay there in silence for hours! Okay, probably like 30 minutes, but it felt like eternity. Do you remember the sound that silence made after a while? Like a wave or white noise machine, that deafening, on-going whoosh type noise. Almost as if you could hear your insides–heart beating, ear drums waiting for something to happen. I don’t hear that sound very often now that I’m an adult.
How about you? Do you remember what silence sounds like? Can you try it right now? Just put your phone down or turn away from your screen and just be quiet. Try it for 60 seconds.
. . .
. . .
. . .
That was WEIRD, right? To just sit there in the quiet, nothing particular going on, not listening to something or watching something or accomplishing something, just being there in the silence.
Sometimes, when I’m in the bathroom (yeah, this is gonna get weird), when I’m just sitting there–where you might normally sit in a bathroom–I’ll suddenly realize I’ve picked up my shampoo bottle and started to read the back of it.
Literally. Reading my shampoo bottle. Here’s the thing–I have NO interest in the back of my shampoo bottle. I’m not like super jazzed to read about all its ingredients. It’s just that there was silence and there was nothing happening, and when nothing is happening it’s weird and uncomfortable! So I’ll grab anything–anything–to fill the void.
What do we call it when all of a sudden everyone stops talking and there’s just this quiet? We call it an “awkward silence,” right? We can’t stand it. We have to fill the silence.
Soooo frequently, we just automatically hate letting nothing happen. We have to find something–noise, information, food, color–anything–to fill the quiet times, the slow times, the empty moments.
What is your shampoo bottle? I bet you do something like that! I bet you find yourself cramming your quiet moments with stuff and things and information that you actually don’t care about, just because you can’t help it.
Do you pick up a magazine in a waiting room that you would absolutely never pick out in any other context, just because it would be weird to just sit there silently? Do you have to be listening to something or watching something every time you eat? Or do you have this compulsive habit of picking up your phone? Hopping on social media?
How about this: Have you ever realized that you’re mindlessly browsing Facebook, set your phone down, and then immediately picked your phone back up and mindlessly popped Facebook right back open?
Why do we do this? Why do we so automatically fill every spare second, every quiet moment, with NOISE? Information, media, activities, stuff. So often the things we fill every second with aren’t actually things we care about, but we do them because we’re so uncomfortable stopping.
Why do we catch ourselves reading the backs of our shampoo bottles?
Why can’t we just be quiet sometimes?
I think that it has a lot to do with fear. Sure, there’s definitely some habit, some addiction built in there. But I think even if we could stop distracting ourselves all day every day, we might choose not to, because of fear.
Each one of us have weird stuff in our lives. The stuff that sometimes keeps us up at night. Fear, uncertainty, confusion, hurt, crappy feelings. Quiet brings those feelings to the surface. When we just let quiet time be quiet, silent time be silent, suddenly we discover we have all these thoughts and feelings that we usually keep buried down inside us as we hurtle through our days. You know what feels better than facing our deep down selves? Facebook again.
When we slow down, embrace the quiet, and just be present with ourselves, as ourselves, for ourselves in this moment, we sometimes feel a lot of discomfort. Or maybe all the time. (“Every of the time.” – Kevin Malone)
Have you ever told someone, or had someone tell you, that they like to keep busy because it’s hard to just sit with their thoughts?
Quiet brings out the real. It brings everything to the surface. And I think that we generally expect that this is going to be disastrously painful.
But my own experience tells me that when you embrace the quiet, eventually it becomes so much better than expected. After a while, sitting quietly, embracing the silent, empty times can be one of the most wonderful parts of life.
After high school I spent a while volunteering in Ethiopia and in Uganda. Every day there, we had time to take naps in the afternoons. We walked slowly places, saw the sights, smelled the smells. And at each meal, we had time to just sit and visit and enjoy the moment.
It was quite the culture shock for me–not going to Africa, but coming back to America where life happens at breakneck speed. Suddenly there was hardly time for anything! Every moment was crammed full of stuff. Everyone walked quickly. Everyone drove quickly. Me, too! It took some reacclimating, but it just became life again: Hurry, hurry, hurry!
My wife and I got married and honeymooned in Italy (ugh, memories). A strange thing happens every day in many parts of Italy from about noon to 3. All the shops close up and everyone goes home to just sit quietly with their families and friends, relax, eat lunch together (probably cheese :'( oh my heart), drink wine, and just generally enjoy. This love for peaceful moments plays such an important part in the Italian way of life, they even coined a special phrase for it: Il dolce far niente. “The sweetness of doing nothing.”
I wondered if maybe I should insert some academic quote or study here about how beneficial it is for people to take more time to be quiet, to relax, to let go of doing, to just slow down, be present. But I don’t think any of us actually need to be convinced of this. I’m pretty sure this is something we all already know deep down. Right?
Are you too busy? Does the pace of your life make you feel stressed? Do you feel like there’s some really important stuff you’re missing out on because you’re always, always, always going, going, going?
Life has some really amazing stuff in it that you can only find and experience and appreciate when you sloooooow down, be present, and embrace the silence.
But slowing down makes us uneasy. We get addicted to filling each moment, and when we stop filling moments we start feeling unfamiliar feelings and OMG that’s weird.
So we zoom zoom zoom through life, like it’s a computer game, and even though we know we’re doing it the wrong way, we can always slow down and be present next time. Only, we don’t get extra lives. There’s no next time. If we rush through life and fill every second with distracting noise–that’s it. Life will be gone. It was your last life, and now it’s game over.
So maybe we need to go ahead and start slowing down today. Facing those silent times. Embracing those silent times.
Consider for a minute–what else could you find if you slowed down?
Try it now. Take this time. Look around you.
What do you see?
What do you notice?
What do you see that you don’t usually stop and appreciate?
There are probably some happy things around you.
There are probably some noises that you used to find interesting, comforting, or therapeutic.
There is probably some stuff that you like, that brings you lots of joy, but that you kind of forgot about.
Maybe there’s a human person sitting next to you with human person feelings and needs and a heart, somebody there for the connecting and the loving, and you forgot to notice that something that important was right there.
Feel your ear. Go ahead, touch it. You have an EAR! Isn’t that crazy??? Your ear is a beautiful and incredibly complex and elegant and delicate little instrument. And it is so much cooler than your iPhone! It gives you balance and spatial awareness. And it lets you hear the voices of your loved ones, and beautiful music. It’s amazing, right?
I bet you’re happy you have an ear. But I bet you forgot you have an ear today.
Did you know massaging your ear lobe is an easy and quick stress reliever and even pain reliever? And you have it free to you every day. Do you remember your ear?
Look outside of the window. What do you see? Something that’s there, there for you, right now?
How about a tree? Do you see a tree? Do you like trees? Trees are beautiful, right? Has a tree ever made you feel happy? Of course! What about today, though? Did a tree make you feel happy today? Pssh, no, why would you have looked at a tree today?! You’ve got to get to work! You have so much stuff to do!
Last weird-thing, I promise. Reach into your pocket, or your purse, or your bag. Or maybe look at your wrist or your finger or your neck. Do you have something with you that you’re wearing or that you keep on your person–something that makes you happy? Something that means a lot to you? Maybe a ring or a bracelet or a necklace. Or something significant on your key chain. Maybe when you saw it in a gift shop, it reminded you of adventure and you had to buy it. Or maybe it was a gift from someone special. What’s your thing you found? What does it mean to you? Does it make you happy, or bring you feelings of love? Let’s be honest, though–how often do you actually notice it anymore? Like when I bought my new car a few years ago, that was an incredible machine full of potential and adventures to be had. I appreciated it and wanted to show it off to everyone. I’d wake up in the morning and go oh man, my car! And then it got normal, and I forgot to notice it, and I forgot that I appreciate it, and I forgot that it makes me happy, and now it doesn’t make me happy anymore.
Until I slow down.
What doesn’t make you happy anymore because you are too busy to notice it? What is something you know you would like to get back in touch with, if only you could slow down a little bit? What do you take for granted now? What beauty and happiness in your life are you too distracted to have anymore?
I couldn’t help but ask for you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down but I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear you say it one more time
That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes
With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite:
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.
~ Saturn, by Sleeping at Last
So do you want to slow down? Do you need to slow down? Need more quiet times? More time to just be present? Discover beauty around you, discover yourself? Quiet time to just get in touch with yourself and what matters to you?
I hope that thinking about all this–thinking about your version of shampoo-bottles and how silly they are, looking around you and remembering what you’re missing when you’re too busy to look around you–I hope that all this inspires you a little bit to slow down, to be quiet, and to be present. To put the shampoo bottle down. It takes a lot of practice, I think. So good luck!
In case it helps, I have three little tips: Meditate; Go outside; And literally put “Downtime” on your schedule.
Meditation: Have you tried meditation? Have you tried making it a regular part of your life for a while? I think it’s amazing. Of course, there are hundreds of different kinds of meditation, and each kind works for some people and doesn’t work for others. Actually, “work” is the wrong word to use about meditation. See, I think the kind of meditation that helps us slow down and be present isn’t a meditation that “works.” It doesn’t fix our lives, get rid of our pain, make us happy. It is just a way to practice accepting exactly where we are, who we are. Accepting things. Accepting everything. Accepting life. So that when those awkward silences happen and when the alone-with-your-thoughts times come around, it’s okay for you. You’ve learned to breathe through the weird stuff. Only then can you be present for the good stuff, too. If you haven’t tried meditating, I’d really encourage you to try it. Click here to read about how meditation helps me, and click here for a couple great places to get started.
Going outside: Guys, outside is FREE! And it’s RIGHT THERE! It’s so accessible, just waiting for you to go be in it. If you don’t know where to go, ask a friend! If you live in Minnesota, ask me! And if you’re an introvert and asking people about something unfamiliar is scary, pop open Google Maps and look for the areas shaded green. Leave your phone behind and just go walk. (I know, this is the 21st century and leaving your phone behind is an absolutely terrifying prospect. See Ryan in The Office, season 8, episode 11: Trivia. Leave me a comment if you already know exactly what he says because then I want to be your friend.) Or at least leave your phone in your pocket. And just go. Go walk. Go sit or lie down under a tree. Go feel the fresh air. You know what’s not outside in nature? Your long to-do list, your crazy inbox, your busy workweek, your stressful social obligations, your house that needs cleaning. Nature is a great escape. It’s a place of beauty, a place of inspiration, and it’s a place that makes all the busy, stressful parts of life seem a whole lot smaller. So get outside! Escape! Find beauty! Find quiet!
Scheduling downtime: Okay, I’m going to bet you don’t have free space in your schedule these days, right? But let’s be honest, if you have absolutely no space to squeeze free time in to your schedule, you need it more than anyone else! We can’t afford not to. We only get this one life to be present for. We need to slow down sometimes. Like–top priority. I’m doing research for a school essay and ran across some scary statistics: You and I (the average American adult) spend well over 2 hours a day on social media type stuff on our smartphones. And we spend over 11 hours a day interacting with some kind of internet connection and media (see this eye-opening graphic from Nielsen). I really bet we do have time to slow down and be quiet and be present–if we make time. And if scheduling downtime really still seems impossible, if you really do have too much to do, then maybe just get reckless and throw your to-do list away for a day. Before you turn 85. Life goes fast! So please–commit to downtime.
I hope these help. What are your ideas for slowing down, finding quiet, and experiencing more present moments in your life? We’re all in this together!
Have you seen Pixar’s movie Up? Have you cried watching Up? Okay, have you cried like a baby watching Up? I thought so.
One of Pixar’s most iconic scenes, because it touches us on such a deeply human level: The old man, whose wife has passed away, is feeling guilty and regretful–they didn’t do all the big stuff they were going to do together with their lives. He pulls out an old photo album and flips through the pictures of their life together. And you know what he finds? The quiet moments. The little things! Sitting on a park bench feeding the birds. Sharing a mug of coffee at the kitchen table, smiling and laughing. Holding hands. Laying in the grass. Turns out they lived the richest, sweetest, most fulfilling life together they possibly could have lived. (Here, watch it again. You know you want to.)
See life has so much beauty to be found. So much peace to be found. So much love to be found.
But we’ll miss it if we don’t slow down.
So be slow. Be quiet. Be present.
Beauty, peace, and love to you!
Jon Kabat-Zinn, the mindfulness teacher:
“It is indeed a radical act of love just to sit down and be quiet for a time by yourself.”