The Peaceful Journey

Waving goodbye

Today has been a day of letting go.  I closed down my website, A Peaceful Path.  I stopped my subscription to Mad Mimi (goodbye newsletter).  I copied all my previous blog posts (in case my grandchildren are ever interested) and after this post is published, I will close The Peaceful Journey.

While copying these posts, I noticed the lead from a post in December, 2010.  At the time, I was receiving prompts to write about and this prompt was "Let Go" - What (or whom) did you let go of this year?  Why?

My answer today is so very different than in 2010.  It is so very different than I ever would have imagined.

Recently I have felt a shift - maybe not of earthquake status, but certainly worthy of creating cracks in my personal surface.  I did not seek this shift; I actually don't even pretend to understand it.  And yet, it is a shift that has profoundly changed my life.

Where just a few months ago, I relished writing about my experiences - today I have a hard time putting my thoughts in order.  Perhaps I am just tired of examining this journey.  Maybe I just want to sink into the moment and relinquish my role of observer.

Interestingly, what I am aware of is that as pieces of my life are falling away, I feel lighter, more expectant.  Maybe it is just time for the next phase of these travels.

Today, I notice that my heart sings when playing with my youngest granddaughter and when listening to the preteen trials of my older one.  I am so excited that we are moving to a new apartment and filled with plans for filling this space with love.  I'm about to start working at our local bookstore and the prospect of meeting new people every day makes me smile.

I cannot say if I will write again.  I only know that when this began, I promised to be as authentic as possible.  That said, my place of authenticity is settling into this new life full-time and seeing what fits.

Writing the Peaceful Journey has been the most amazing experience.  Your wonderful comments and encouragement have meant more to me than you could ever know. Our sharing this life has such a tender spot in my heart.

Letting go is bittersweet.  But this is good-bye for now.

Farewell and Happy Travels!

changing directions....notes from the journey

Have you ever been on a road, so sure you 

knew exactly where you were going and what 

to expect and then...... when you least 

expected it, a detour sign appears right 

in the roadway?  

And all your plans are at least momentarily changed.

For most of the last decade, I was secure on my journey, 

roadmap in hand, snacks ready in case of delays.  Sometimes 

traffic had slowed me down, sometimes a stray car might cut 

me off, but mostly the trip was of my planning. 

Just like travel brochures, I had vision boards and in place of 

souvenirs, I held on to crystals and quartz bowls.  

I wasn't traveling alone, I was caravanning with my friends, 

the best traveling companions I could imagine.  People I loved, 

who understood the trials of traveling and were happy to swap 

stories at the end of the day.

And then, out of nowhere, this "unknown detour" sign appears.  

It was not on my itinerary, and I have to admit, I was 

speechlessly surprised.

Okay, enough metaphors!  Those of you who have followed 

this blog are aware something has been up.  At first I thought 

I had lost my way - I was unwilling to admit that a new 

direction might be calling.  I struggled as I slowly allowed 

myself to admit that what I had loved so much was no 

longer calling to me.  

How could this be?  What was wrong with me?

Leaving the corporate world, finding my spot with essential 

oils and then learning how to share them with others had been 

so fulfilling.  I still believed in what I had been doing, I still 

wanted to be of service - and yet, that excitement and passion 

now felt diluted.  But to even begin to question this somehow 

felt disloyal to my journey.  

So I shut down.  I was really depressed.  Just as long ago I 

had questioned who I would be without my job - now I was 

questioning who I would be without the essential oils, without 

my label of aromatherapist.  Confusion was my only 

authentic feeling.

And just as taking a detour requires making the decision to go 

down a new road, finding my way required me letting go of my 

past journey.  Amazingly, the moment I sent out a notice that 

I would no longer be creating the oil blends, I began to see a 

new path.  I had to commit to changing courses before I was 

able to see the new road.  I had to trust the signs that even 

though the detour was "unknown", someone had been there 

before.  I mean someone had put up the sign - right?

As I gave myself permission to just let go and see what would 

happen, I began opening to what seems to be my next journey.  

A love that had been set aside began to come forward and a 

new plan is starting to take shape.  

I looked around and this detour is not so bad.  In fact, it 's 

pretty fun and filled with new sights and new travelers.  I 

have a vague idea of where this road is leading,but I am 

not for sure enough to speak with confidence just yet. 

After all, I have just found this path.

Right now, I'm just exploring a new space, checking out 

the sights and wondering where the pie shop is.  So should 

we meet and share something?

Meanwhile,  I send some postcards along the way.

 

Preparing to stop

It's been almost a decade since I walked away from my "real" job and began walking into what I labeled as my "real" life.

In some ways, ten years have seemed to stretch into eons of time; in other ways, they have passed in a moment.

Just like life.

When I made the choice to leave the familiar and plunge into the unknown, I felt there was no looking back. I thought I was closing a door firmly on all that no longer fit. So, rather than going through my life and making conscious choices about what to keep and what to discard, I just slammed that door and walked away.

For years, this was not a terrible plan. There was a lot to explore and learn and I really didn't miss what I had left behind. And to tell the truth, I was still mad and hurt that the job I had so loved had morphed into something I hated. I felt betrayed.

Today, I stand at another crossroads. I know that I am feeling a shift, a change of some sort of direction. I am also aware of that feeling of betrayal, of being resentful that change is arriving unbidden.

I feel unsure of the next step - I only know that this time, I want the changes that come to be conscious choices. I want to keep what I love, while discovering new things that make my heart sing.

So I am going to be quiet - for me, a totally new mode! The Peaceful Journey and A Peaceful Path are taking some time off. And we'll see what new path opens up in this space.

See you soon.

When is enough really enough?

These past weeks have been filled with re-addressing issues I had assumed were long resolved. I guess it would be highly evolved for me to express gratitude for the opportunity; but seriously...... who does that? Mostly I have just felt overwhelmed and confused.

About a year ago, I held a workshop focusing on Brene Brown's work with shame. And I thought I had really made a lot of progress with living an authentic life.  But a recent bout of illness has brought up a huge load of baggage I was not even aware that I was still carrying around.  So I guess this would be a great time to shine some light into this area that has been filled darkness.

About 15 years ago, I was introduced to the "Law of Attraction" through some cassettes (remember those?) from Abraham-Hicks.  I loved this new viewpoint - in retrospect it was probably not only that it was sound info, it also appealed to the controller in me - yes!, I was in charge.  

Well, while this teaching served me well in many ways, I was also able to morph it into something I could use to beat myself up about. I mean, if I was creating my own reality, then every misstep, every hardship, every non-positive moment was my own creation - right?  I managed to turn victimhood into a new form of shame and then begin to hide that from even myself.

These past few weeks I have been ill.  Not terminally, just miserably.  And the cause of my dis-ease has been perplexing both me and to my doctors.  I have mostly felt - ASHAMED.  The waves of shame I have felt about this have kept me from asking most of my friends for help - I mean, come on - I'm just creating this misery - why open it up for all to see?

The part of me that is kinder to myself seems not to have extended itself into this area.  The amount of judgment I have around this illness is huge.  So I get to be sick and also angry at myself for not being, well - what......enlightened enough? aligned enough? maybe just plain enough?  to just turn it around.

Perhaps the seed of this is the long held belief of not being enough. Somehow, I have grown to believe that if I were enough, I would never be ill, never be angry, never be disappointed.  So these have become emblems of the lack of enoughness in me.

I don't have an answer - I think I just needed to look bravely at my reluctance to even admit that something in my physical body is not well and I don't want to be ashamed of that anymore.  I don't know how to take a beloved belief that has served me so well for so long and open it up to this side of the discussion. Do you?

So this post is really a question.  I want to know how this works for you.  Do you struggle with balancing this amazing insight of the Law of Attraction and the everyday wear and tear of life? I am so ready for another point of view!

If you don't like the weather....just wait awhile

 

One of our biggest adjustments in moving to Austin will probably only be understood by those of you who live in Southern California.  It sounds crazy to the rest of the real world, but we are having a hard time getting used to, well ....weather.

Los Angeles is the land of sunshine - the smallest raindrop elicits a "Storm Alert" complete with banner across the lower edge of the TV screen.  There is a slight variance in temperatures, but you can pretty much plan months in advance for an outdoor wedding without any backup strategy.

Austin is the land of change.  Last Sunday we woke up to rain and 40 degrees.  By that afternoon it was sunny and near 80.  Thunderstorms roll through and then the stars jump out of the nighttime sky. The saying  "If you don't like the weather, just wait awhile." has become our mantra.

Living with actual weather is a great learning tool for living an unexpected life.  What I am learning is that just as the thunderstorms roll through the night and then disappear, I can trust that the stormy times in my own life will roll though - and then disappear.

In Los Angeles, I expected the weather to be great - it wasn't cause for comment unless someone was from out of town.  What I have noticed about my own life is that I am emotionally like Los Angeles - I expect life to be sunny and mild.  When a shower approaches or God forbid, a thunderstorm, I get freaked out.  I go on "Storm Alert", ready for the disaster that is sure to follow. 

Most of you know that I sincerely believe in the Law of Attraction.  However in my own life, I have frequently used this as a way to berate myself for any moment not to my liking. If it is not sunny in my life, then I am creating those showers.  And they might turn into a storm at any moment.  And I might not have an umbrella.  Oh, no....what to do??

I rush about trying to stop the rain.

But now that I am more in touch with the cycles of weather, I see that contrast isn't always a bad thing.  The gray clouds don't last forever and they have a certain beauty of their own.  When I feel low or even snarly (think serious tornado alert!), I do know this will pass.  Maybe I don't need to rush about trying to fix myself, fix my family, fix the world. 

Maybe I just need to learn to "wait awhile".

These weather patterns seem like a more authentic life.  Less flat-line lovely and more unexpected diversity.  The issue turns into becoming comfy with peaks and valleys, with sunny days and thunderstorms, with feeling quiet and wanting to dance.  Mother Nature seems to be supporting this awareness by giving me visual examples almost daily.

And I am learning.....in both my exterior and my interior life.... to relax and just be in this very moment.  To trust that stormy times will give way to glorious sunsets and new views.  I am learning to "wait awhile".

PS. The photo above was taken with my phone from our balcony - nice classroom for these life lessons :)

 

Misplacing Myself

Two nights ago I was lying in bed, thoroughly engrossed in a novel.  As I turned the page, these words began the next chapter:

"There are several ways to react to being lost.  One is to panic......Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you've misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world."  Audrey Niffenegger from "Her Fearful Symmetry"

Although I was really invested in what would happen next in this story - I found I could not read any further.  I just wanted to let these words settle into me. I kept thinking of that saying - when the student is ready, the teacher appears. Earlier that day, I had just spoken with a friend that I was so very ready for a new view, some fresh breeze of energy that could have me waking up with a smile, ready for surprises.

And bam - words written on a page in a book from the library, checked out to distract me and instead assisting me in receiving that new view I so want.

Being lost - it seems to be my new mode.  There's the physical lostness of a new city - frustrating but fixable - I mean, I could get a map, get a GPS, listen to the lady on my phone, drive enough that I learn the routes.

Then there is the much larger lostness of fearing that I have misplaced myself.  I love that phrase because it is just so perfectly descriptive. As I look back on the last six months, reading some of the past posts, I see this has been my fear - that I have misplaced myself.

And choosing the first option, I have panicked.

My life is different - undeniably.  The way I have dealt with this is to question everything - it feels as though I have been excavating my very soul. I do not deny that there are times when soul searching has been a good thing, but lately it has become more of a habit than an experience.

"Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you've misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world."  Yes - I see the sign for a detour on this route I have set for myself.  I am exhausted from this travel - breaking every part of my life into pieces to be inspected, analyzed, and yes, judging my misplacement.

What would it feel like to just abandon myself to this journey, to let the experience flow around me like the stream around the rocks?  How would it reshape me if I were open to experiencing the world differently?

And as so often happens in real life, the next morning I got lost.  I misplaced myself, turning into a construction zone in downtown Austin that seemed to become an endless maze of detours.  The words from the book rushed into me - what if I would just abandon myself to lostness?

So I did.  I sat in the traffic jammed to a stop and looked around.  I saw places I had never noticed.  A flower shop caught my eye with the sign  "Happy Hour - from 5-6 PM each weekday, Flowers are 1/2 price".  How totally cool is that?

I saw a frozen custard stand (almost pulled out of traffic for this one) and a really cute house with a purple door that matched the purple flowers surrounding it.  I saw a man in a wheelchair walking his dog - or maybe his dog was walking him?  I smelled the sweetness of the lake and acridness of the asphalt fumes.

I abandoned myself to lostness and found some things along the way - probably the most memorable was the realization of how I could choose to experience the world in a new way.

Now, how will this translate into the lostness of my self - all the questions about what I am doing and how it all fits?  Can I abandon myself to lostness and allow the fact that sometimes I misplace myself change how I see the world?

Maybe I will begin to see it as less critical, less disapproving, less negative and just feel more safe, more okay, and enjoy the ride without needing to hyper-analyze each little trip along the way.

Perhaps I will see the act of "abandoning myself to lostness" not as a moment creating panic but as a new way to experience the world.

So I am curious - have you sometimes felt you have "misplaced yourself"? What was your reaction?

I'm still alternating between panic and starting an adventure.

 

In Loving Memory

I have just realized that one of the advantages of having my own somewhat public place here in cyberspace is that it allows me the opportunity to write whatever I want. I say that because I have just reviewed the obituary written for my aunt and although it contains all the "necessary" facts, it doesn't include anything important to me.

It doesn't mention the little Easter bags she always made for me with fabric covering an oatmeal canister, with special treats tucked inside. Nor does it talk about all the dresses she sewed for me until the time came, in Jr. High, when all I wanted was something with a label inside that said Bobbi Brooks. 

However, later, when I was ready, she gave me the lifelong gift of teaching me how to sew on her treadle sewing machine and I began to make my own creations. 

The newspaper doesn't mention her amazing lemon meringue pies or how she gave me her secret tips for perfect piecrust. There was no place to applaud her for being born in 1920 and living though one of the hardest times in our history in one of the poorest areas - and never letting that define her.  I didn't know how to include how important her example was to me of a woman having a career - still fairly unusual in the 1950's world of wives who stayed at home.

I couldn't insert a picture of her in her glamorous sundress (complete with a strapless bra - who knew!) when she would visit us in the summer.  Nor was there room for the reels of her home movies, made with a Kodak movie camera - capturing my childhood in silent black and white fuzzy images.

How would I tell about how she taught me the importance of eye cream and how to paint my nails? But how she also loved to ride her donkey and hunt deer and pick up pieces of turquoise in the mountains of eastern Arizona?

And mostly, there was no place to describe how I now see her hands when I look at her wedding ring on my finger.  And remember all the times she let me try it on and told me someday it would be mine.  And while diamonds are not really my style, I love that I see her in that ring and feel so connected in a very tangible way.

In an obituary, often a list of accomplishments is included.  Her three inch column in the small town newspaper includes such a list.  But in my mind, her greatest accomplishment is not mentioned. For me, the most important thing was the difference she made in one girl's life - mine. 

And for that I will always be grateful.

In loving memory

Blanche Campbell McGaha Hall

June 20, 1920 - February 24, 2012

 

"Please review and revise".....

Last week on Valentine's Day, New Earth Daily included an article I wrote for their launch.  Tell me a story - the intention had flowed straight from my heart into text on a computer screen.  It seemed so easy.  Little did I know that six hours later, my life would be catapulted full speed right back into the depths of "my story".

I received the call that my favorite aunt had just had a stroke and was in the ICU of the small town where I grew up.  Throwing clothes into a bag and jumping into my car, for three hours my tiny Honda Fit navigated between 18-wheelers along I-35 as I cried.  The tears came from some place I did not understand.  A fiercely independent woman, my 91-year-old aunt had been in a nursing home for more than a year - a life she never wanted.  Perhaps the tears were relief that this part of her journey was soon to be finished, perhaps they were evidence of the sorrow of losing the only family member whom had ever seen me for myself.

Somewhere along the drive, I realized the irony of this timing.  Could I show up now in this emotionally charged chapter of my life without the back-story?  Could I come to this moment as just myself, leaving past hurts and defenses behind?  How was that going to work?

As I pulled into my mother's driveway late at night, I knew I had come too far to go back.  Yet as I opened the back door and walked into the home where I grew up, I felt my story come over me like a tidal wave.  So many memories, so many versions of the same old story - they felt too dense to break through.  All I knew to do was breathe.  And then to breathe again.  And again.

Maybe a good comparison would be a well-known play - we've seen it often.  The scenery is the same, the characters have the same names, the music is tunes we have hummed for decades.  And then we realize the dialogue has changed.  The circumstances are familiar but the plot line seems different.  What is so different about these characters? 

That was my fantasy, but not much of my reality.

In fact, the well-worn lines took over without even a moment of recognition.  I fell into my character with nary a thought.  Until late in the night, unable to sleep, I remembered.  The question became - do I believe what I write or is it just gentle fiction?  There could never be a better time to test this out, to see if I could "walk my talk".

But how?  I was in a new land with no roadmap except my internal GPS system.

Dismembering the story seemed such an insurmountable task when I was so emotionally drained.  Yet, maybe this was the best time.  I had no energy to resist, being my former angry persona just seemed too hard.  So over and over, time and time again, I remembered my new story.  The story where we are all just doing the best we can for this moment.  The story where I don't have to personalize every comment.  The story where I could find the same compassion for my family that I generously had offered to strangers. The story where the goal was not to inflict hurt.

If I am committed to telling the truth, sometimes it worked - sometimes it didn't.  

But as the days went by, I began to see a new rhythm.  When I found myself digging into the old story of so many decades - I forced myself to go outside.  In the rain.  I gave myself a little time out before I lashed out in anger.  This helped.  It gave a moment of distance that allowed me to regroup - to release all those emotions and just have some space for the new story to grow roots.

This is still going on - did you know when someone is taken off life-support, life does not just leave the room?  Each incidence is unique, but my aunt's journey seems to be leisurely.  So I have more time to learn about the character I am re-creating.  As I explore the releasing of the need for control and finding the ease of offering support, I can see that with practice, this can become easier.

I can revise and rewrite this story - one sentence at a time.

"Let It Be"

On a yoga mat, under a fuzzy fleece blanket, I breathe.  

Deeply, again and again.  

I'm no longer conscious of the time, only of my breath, secure in the guidance of the leaders of this breath work class.  My lungs fill up and release, having finally found a rhythm that now seems natural.  

For this moment, there exists only me and my breath.

Near the end of the session, my mind starts to drift.  As thoughts of this past month float up, I find I cannot seem to focus on them.  My doubts about where I belong, my guilt at not producing, my anger with myself for not being - well maybe just for not being - they are all there, struggling to be heard.

But instead, my heart is filled with lyrics the Beatles wrote four decades ago.  

Can I just "let it be"?

As I sit up slowly at the end of the class, coming back into the present, the song comes to me again.

"When I find myself in times of trouble

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

And in my hour of darkness

She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

I am of the generation that related to everything the Beatles sang - they were truly the poets of my day.  I have always loved this song, but have never connected with Mother Mary.  Maybe it's my Baptist roots, but I could never feel what my friends call the energy of Mother Mary.  Yet, here in this lovely space, for the first time, it seems I can feel her presence.  Even the words "Mother Mary" feel reassuring, warm pink energy swirling around me.

My rational mind immediately decides it is the heavy dose of oxygen that I have just given to my body.  Perhaps I am hyperventilating?  Could this awareness I feel surrounding me with such comfort just be a physical response to breathing deeply?

Does it really matter?  As I started this post, I see that it has been a month since I have written anything.  I reread my last December blog and remember these past weeks. The "no-plan" plan is so much more difficult than I ever imagined.

Will anyone see me if I am only in the process of "being"?  As I have tried to relinquish control, every insecurity that I thought had faded away roared to the surface.  How could I ever be "enough"?

I know this is a journey of trusting - never my easiest or preferred form of travel. I have resisted this path of trust; I have fought it on every turn. I have wanted to retrace my steps and just write this experiment off as a failure.  

And yet, I long to return to it - this journey of letting go of what I am not and becoming what I am.

These lyrics are the bottom line - "let it be".  Deep insight coming clearly at the end of emptying my mind for 90 minutes.  Three tiny words holding a whole universe of truth.

"And when the night is cloudy,

There is still a light that shines on me,

Shine on until tomorrow, let it be.

I wake up to the sound of music

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be.

There will be an answer, let it be.

Let it be, let it be,

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be"

So I am practicing a new mantra.  I could just "let it be".

I could stop trying so hard to not resist, stop trying to flow, stop always trying to be somewhere that I am not. 

And maybe begin to see where I am.

Free Falling - when panic and trust collide

Yesterday was a travel poster day in Austin - bright blue skies and warm air. Yet I spent the entire day on the sofa under a blanket, self-medicating with cheese grits straight out of the pan while watching "Eat, Pray Love" on mute. 

Of course I tried to analyze my condition.  This is what I do - I observe, I label, I categorize. Making lists has always created the illusion of security in my life.  Even as a small child, my lists were my lifeline - nothing could be forgotten or lost.  When I don't know what to do, I make a list. And the another, just in case!

But as I began slowing returning from my attack of extreme inertia, I saw that this "anxiety attack" is all about "the list".  You know, the list that is on every magazine cover, the topic of all talk shows, that crown of all lists - Resolutions.

As a dedicated list maker, it isn't surprising that a list of New Year's Resolutions would be the cherry on my holiday dessert.  Every year, that list has felt honorable, noble, responsible.  The individual entries have been refined as I have changed, but the overall tone has remained the same.  And now, I am seeing its truth for the first time.

Lists are my tangible evidence of feeling in control and the Resolution List is the way I have felt in charge.  I could decide what I wanted to change, to amplify, where I would place my focus.  This list of changes has become my personal manifesto, my own declaration of what is important to me. The list was my proof -  I was IN CONTROL.

But I have changed.  I see that the time on my sofa, semi-comatose, has not been a time of retreat, but actually, the hours of a full out war being waged. A battle plan that has been refined endless times during the past six decades is in the process of being dismantled.  The new plan being suggested is untried - there is no body of evidence that it will work.  Everything in me has been screaming, "Don't go there... It's not safe!"

This began a few days ago, as I listened to Vanessa Stone talk about entering this year empty - no agenda, no calendared plan.  An empty cup waiting to be filled.  As I felt these words go straight into my heart, I knew this is what I want for this moment.  I want to be open to something I have not yet seen.  I want to enter this year without my list, my agenda, my grand illusion of control.  I want to step into each new day with wonder.

I am terrified.

I know I have written all year about facing fears, about change, about seeing new directions.  But nothing has prepared me for this griping fear.  I realize that exploring this with words has been an entry point.  As I typed out each new awareness about this journey, I was beginning to open to the courage of investigating further. Words on a computer screen let me glimpse through the cracks, checking out a new land. There is a sense of safety in writing - I can observe from a safe distance.

But now there are no words, no plan, no preview of coming attractions.  If this is my choice - to enter with a blank screen, an empty cup, with utter trust - I must learn to take a breath and Be. 

I have no idea how this works - those of you who are already on this path are so invited to send back a report. 

I only know that as I write this, I am less frightened.  More curious.  More Open.

So it begins.......