Inner180

This is the best week yet of my joy diet.  I love having treats.  I love having permission to have treats.  I love having an excuse, no, a command to do things just for the pure enjoyment of it.

My treat last night was a Yoga Nidra class, which means “sleep of the yogis.”  I normally wouldn’t have considered going to this class, telling myself it wasn’t enough exercise.  But for a treat, why not?

After a series of low to the floor poses, there was a guided meditation, a half-hour of which is said to be as beneficial as three hours of sleep.  I have no idea what the guided meditation was like.  I was out cold.  Strangely, I woke up, a bit disoriented, just at the very moment when it was time to sit up.  I floated home, and slept like a baby.

How are your treats going?

A morning walk today, with artist friend and neighbor Lisa Remeny, was a treat. She calls her work tropical realism, but to me, it is pure tropical magicalism.  Her brilliant, whimsical paintings are an instant magic carpet ride to an island in the Caribbean, where I’m barefoot and a light breeze cools my bare skin. Sitting under a canopy of palms and flowering trees, I nibble ripe mango and papaya slices and nothing is more urgent than watching the sea as it sparkles and dances in the sunshine.  Lisa calls the above painting, which is six feet long and magnificent, “Under the Flamboyant.”  Go to her website for your own tropical vacation.

This evening’s Treat: a brag—the volunteer work I’ve been doing in connection with Tuesday’s election was as part of a team of over 5,800 Florida lawyers responding to the turmoil here during the 2000 presidential election.   During early voting and on Tuesday, we covered the entire state, with volunteer lawyers inside and outside of every potentially troublesome precinct.  Other lawyers staffed hotlines in every county to back up those of us in the field.  Another group was on standby in Tallahassee, the state capitol, if an emergency lawsuit was needed to keep things rolling.  The election came off without a hitch.

Here’s the extra cool part—after the polls closed, I stayed to observe the poll workers unload the voting machines. The precinct clerk and her assistant followed a precise written protocol, removing the paper ballots from a lockbox underneath the voting machines, sealing them in special cases, then printing the scanned results from each voting machine.  Every ballot and every voter sign-in was counted and had to match the number of votes counted by the voting machine on the printout.  The clerks patiently explained each step to me as they proceeded.

It was a real thrill to watch the computerized tape print out the results from each voting machine, and to see the vote counts for each race and referendum.  Three copies of the results were printed by each machine, and one of those copies was posted on the front door of the precinct for public inspection.  The results got posted like this in every precinct in the state. The other two copies of the printout were locked up and taken downtown to the Dade County Election Department, along with the paper ballots.

I’m really in love with democracy today.  And feeling like, in this teeny way, I was part of it.  Worth bragging about, don’t you think?

Time is a precious commodity, way more valuable than diamonds or rubies or emeralds.  Today, despite a jam-packed schedule, I risked some of my time.

A friend from out-of-town and staying with me, called to say she was at work, an hour away, and she’d forgotten something critical for her day.  She couldn’t leave, and asked if I had the time to drive it to her.

Of course I didn’t have the time.  No way.  My mental to-do list immediately popped into my consciousness.  I’m teaching a joy diet class in a few hours, I’m in the middle of writing a blog post, my email is piling up, and there are a bunch of phone calls to make…. The list is endless, limited only by my ability to dream up things to add to it.  Besides, it’s rush hour, and it might take two hours.  Or longer if there’s an accident on the expressway….

Being on the joy diet, though, I noticed the discomfort I was feeling.  A quick assessment of the Truth revealed that I will never complete that to-do list, and I had an opportunity to be a real friend in need.  I told her I would do it.

I took a few extra minutes to assemble some Treats for my journey–a cup of hot tea and some lyrical cds for the road.  I also reminded myself to expect the traffic to be heavy, and not to be surprised or get upset when it actually was slow-going or there was an accident.

The extra few minutes for Treats was well worth it.  I enjoyed the drive and used it to do my 15 minutes of Nothing, and the rest of the time just to goof-off.  The tea and music were delightful, too.  And the look of relief on my friend’s face was priceless.

I drove home, finished preparing this morning’s class, and let the rest of the list wait.   Sometimes that’s what joy is about.

Don’t you find that anticipating a risk often makes it seem much more daunting than it really is?  How many opportunities in life do we miss, because we assume something is impossible, so we don’t even try?

Today, my Risk is to offer you a re-run instead of writing a brand new post.  I invite you to read something I wrote about courage some time ago.  Just click here.

Although I don’t practice law any more, I’m still an attorney, so I joined a team of volunteer lawyers helping at the polls today.  I stood for hours and my feet hurt and my back ached, but at least I could walk and move around and find shade.  The voters stood in line in the blazing sun for at least five hours. Many people had small children in tow.

Witnessing this was one of the most moving experiences of my life.  Black and white, young and old, Republicans and Democrats, all patiently and politely waiting together. People stood side-by-side chatting, even though they wore buttons from opposing candidates.  I didn’t see one complaint, one rude remark, or one argument.  No matter how this election turns out, this aspect of it has been phenomenal.

There was a group of five lawyers advising the hundreds of waiting voters.  In the past, I would have sought direction from one of the ones who had been there all week, since I was the newbie.   Being on the joy diet though, I decided to find my own niche, with my heart, not my head.  Now this may not seem like a really big deal to you, but I was there as a lawyer, and trust me, lawyers don’t typically work this way.

As I scanned the lines, I noticed that there were elderly, disabled, and ill folks waiting in line.  Apparently a security guard, who, to be sure, was trying to do his job, was turning these folks back to wait in line with everyone else.

I escorted two blind voters to the entrance.  The guard stood to block the door.  I gently told him that they were disabled and that I was taking them inside to find a place to wait.  He glanced at my ball cap emblazoned with the words “Florida Voting Rights Attorney,” and stepped aside.  They would still have to wait, but it would be in chairs, in the air-conditioning.

So that’s how I spent my day.  Several hours after I’d helped a severely disabled woman with lupus who was dragging a heavy wooden folding chair with her, I saw her exiting the polls.  When she saw me, she lit up.  “I voted honey. I made it.  Thank you so much,” she cried out as she hugged me.  And that was pure joy.

In furtherance of going off mental autopilot, which I wrote about yesterday, I’m examining all kinds of automatic, judgmental behavior in myself.  It feels really risky to let go of it, even though it offers about as much protection as a garlic necklace.

Today, I retired from automatically judging a person who really pushes my buttons.  I listened to him without a wall of defense and rejection.

The first few minutes took some discipline. My reactions against his words and thoughts and concepts are strong and arise instantaneously.  And it felt risky to let go.  As if my inner voice of rejection protected me.  Which is silly. With a bit of commitment, it got easier, especially when I could see my own silliness.

I’m amazed at how much judgment I still engage in.  I’m even more amazed at the time and energy I have when I let go of it.

Ironic, isn’t it, how the button-pushers in our lives are among our greatest teachers.

In this charged atmosphere four days before the elections, it’s really easy to judge and criticize those who disagree with us.  We build walls of safety around the rejection of large groups of other people, and seek companionship and comfort with those who believe as we do. Those with other viewpoints become strange and clueless.

For the last few days I’ve been trying to fully accept the other side.  Not to adopt their beliefs or positions or candidates as mine, but to let go of my judgment about what it means to believe differently than me.  It hasn’t been easy. I’m struggling with years of habitual thinking. But it does feel lighter and freer.

Going off of mental autopilot feels risky because it shifts our identity in a dramatic way.  But the joy diet requires it, at least my joy diet does.  Carrying my habitual judgments around feels like a heavy burden, draining my attention and compromising my joy.

Are you flying on mental autopilot?  Is it a burden?  How would it feel to let it go?