Over and over, I’ve been asked the same thing about my recent trip to Africa: what was the best part, the most important thing I learned, my biggest “aha”? The people, the animals, the landscape, the country, and the African STAR workshop enriched my life in so many ways. Did one thing stand out?
I puzzled over this, and then it hit me.
The biggest lesson for me was this–I went. I didn’t take the advice of the whiney chorus of nagging, nay-saying voices in my head intoning “NO-O-O-O. Don’t go. You shouldn’t do this,” somber as a criminal court judge handing down a life sentence without possibility of parole.
“You don’t have the time,” the clockwatcher crisply noted. “You don’t have the money,” begged the voice of lack, convinced it’s the only thing between me and a life spent living under a bridge with my worldly belongings in a shopping cart. “You didn’t plan this far enough in advance,” clucked the practical one as she studied the lists on her clipboard. “The long plane ride will wipe you out,” implored the hand-wringer that thinks danger and injury lurk around every corner. “Everyone will think it’s foolish/be jealous/won’t like you,” pleaded the approval-junkie that desperately wants to get along well with others.
Is she looking for approval?
I’d heard them all before, cautioning me not to seize other opportunities in my life. I’ve listened to their advice many times. This time, I realized they were just the voices of limiting thoughts that weren’t true. So I thanked them for their efforts. And I ignored them.
Oh my stomach still did loops when I gave the airline agent my credit card information. But I knew my feelings were coming from thoughts fueled by my Inner Nags. So I bought the ticket.
And I had a fantastic trip with absolutely no regrets. I was enchanted. I learned. I grew. I shared amazing sights and transformative insights with fabulous people. I had an adventure. It felt light and airy and magical and free. And it still does.
He doesn't seem to be worried about his future.
The Buddha taught that you can always know the sea because it always tastes of salt and you can always know enlightenment because it always tastes like freedom.
I can recall so many adventures that I’ve passed up because I chose to believe that chorus of hyper-cautious, sensible voices. This time I listened to the deeper, wiser voice inside me. “Go,” it whispered. “This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Don’t pass it up. Go.”
Recognizing and listening to that still, quiet voice of truth is the greatest lesson I learned. And it’s delicious. It tastes like freedom.
A friend recently posed this question to me: if I had to live on a deserted island for one year with no possibility of escape or rescue, what five things, other than basic survival things like food, water, and shelter would I want to have with me.
Here’s my list:
The Tao te Ching (unless there is electricity, then my Kindle, but that seems like cheating)
Paper
Pens
A watercolor kit with paint and brushes
A camera—I know, the electricity thing again, but we won’t be super-strict with the rules.
As I thought about this, I realized I could have fun and stay really absorbed. And that alone is a happy thought. I’d keep a journal, of course, and then write all the things I never get around to, teach myself to paint, and take lots of interesting pictures. My island, as I imagine it, has interesting shells and rocks and birds and plants and driftwood for creative inspiration.
Through it all, I’d read the Tao to keep inspired. Maybe I’d understand it better at the end of the year.
After doing this little exercise, these questions came to mind:
What possessions really add to our happiness?
What do we really need for entertainment, for inner growth, for self-expression?
What would we be willing to give up if resources were really limited?
What would you bring along with you? And how would it be to be alone with yourself? Post your answers in the comments section.
There’s an ancient mango tree next to my cottage; it’s magnificent, with a thick, gnarled brown trunk and long glossy leaves. How many hurricanes it’s withstood is anybody’s guess. It’s been barren for at least 35 years, which is how long I’ve had this place. This year, inexplicably, it flowered, and then, magically, massive clusters of fruit appeared.
A few weeks ago, its mangoes began falling. I sampled one, but it was tasteless. The fruit drops day and night, thudding on the roof and plopping to the ground, but I’ve ignored it, except to gather it up from time to time and bury it, to keep it from attracting insects. I have two other trees providing fruit, so I gave it no further thought, except at midnight whenever a hard, green mango smacks onto the roof and rolls to the ground.
As I cleaned up the fruit this morning, I spotted a couple of really pretty, golden specimens. Curious, I took them in to sample, and they were an extraordinary surprise–sweet, tender, and delicious.
I think the tree is telling me that we can always regenerate, sweeten, and offer the best of ourselves to the world. And that sometimes, our assumptions may not be true, even when we think we’ve investigated them.
Aren’t those messages we can always take to heart? No matter how many times we’ve told ourselves we couldn’t do something, no matter how many times our creative mind seemed barren, no matter how many times we’ve failed to seize the opportunities that come to us, we can always regenerate and bloom and sweeten. And even when we’ve told ourselves the same old story, over and over, we can look inside again, and find liberating new truth.
The mango tree is just outside my bedroom window, and late at night, as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear it out there, releasing it’s sweet golden offerings. I hear them rustling through the palm fronds as they descend, then landing in the thick jungle of vines below. Each time I hear it, I remember all of the regeneration and opportunity and sweetness and truth in the world. And that whether I pay attention or not, they’re there–delicious surprises, just waiting for me to notice.
Suzanne left a comment to the post from a few days ago: The Joy of an Insolent Teenager. She’s so right–the most challenging relationships are the ones we learn the most from. I’m posting Suzanne’s comment here, so the you can listen to the song as you read it.
From Suzanne:
Part of me says “Thank goodness I have passed the stage and lived through it with my children.” One was easier than the other. In hind sight the most difficult one was the one that taught me the most.
On his wedding day, the mother and son dance was the song by Carole King called “Child of Mine”. Most of the song (see below the lyric) was very appropriate to my son and I wanted to honour him with it. I must say I was and still am proud of that beautiful moment.
CHILD OF MINE
Although you see the world different than me
Sometimes I can touch upon the wonders that you see
All the new colors and pictures you’ve designed
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Child of mine, child of mine
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
You don’t need direction, you know which way to go
And I don’t want to hold you back, I just want to watch you grow
You’re the one who taught me you don’t have to look behind
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Child of mine, child of mine
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Nobody’s gonna kill your dreams
Or tell you how to live your life
There’ll always be people to make it hard for a while
But you’ll change their heads when they see you smile
The times you were born in may not have been the best
But you can make the times to come better than the rest
I know you will be honest if you can’t always be kind
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Child of mine, child of mine,
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Child of mine, child of mine
Oh yes, sweet darling
So glad you are a child of mine
Election fever is burning here in Miami. There are yard signs everywhere; on some streets, every house has one. Early voting has opened. I walked to City Hall with some neighbors yesterday so they could vote. It was Sunday afternoon, and several hundred people were waiting in line.
It was a big outdoor party. A group of drummers were pounding Caribbean rhythms and blowing horns as they stood in line, a woman on stilts danced to the drums, volunteers (affiliation unknown) handed free water bottles to waiting voters. A truck from a church unloaded folding chairs for whomever wanted one. I chatted with old friends and people I didn’t know. It was fun.
Everywhere I go, people are asking each other, very respectfully, whether they have voted. My friend Lise, who lived in Haiti under Baby Doc’s governance and is now a proud US citizen, laughs and says she will only vote on election day. She’s superstitious about having her vote count. My postal carrier smiled and told me she will take off Thursday to vote. I’ve heard that an 80% turnout is expected here.
My strongest desire today is to continue this heightened sense of connection and to be of service. What can I do after the election is over, to continue this exciting feeling?
Today’s ideas: volunteer in a library reading to kids, volunteer to do something in the schools having to do with civics or the law, continue to speak with strangers after the election as if there was still a good reason to do so, collect supplies for a school in Jamaica, raise money to renovate a school in Jamaica.
The idea that gets my attention today is to continue to speak with strangers, even after the election, as if I had a good reason to do so. And I do have a good reason, actually. It’s called connection and joy.
My yoga teacher, Natalie Morales, said this in class yesterday, “Let go of your struggles for now.” Isn’t that what we do with our Joy Diet practices? We let go of our struggles while we do Nothing, as we seek the Truth, as we connect with our Desires, as we express our Creativity.
As we let our struggles go, we discover they are optional. We learn that we can create struggles, and that we can let them go, for a few moments, for the length of a yoga class, and in many instances, for as long as we choose.
My creative exploration continues. My list contains Barcelona, Ischia, Italy, the Scottish Highlands, Jamaica, South Africa. Why? Barcelona for the beauty of the Gaudi architecture, Ischia to discover my great-grandmother’s home, the Highlands to connect with my mother’s forebears, Jamaica to be of service, Paris because its there.
Then I realized I could probably take my coaching practice to Paris or Barcelona, and stay there for an extended time. I know a writing coach who is in Paris for six months, and is still working with her US clients. She speaks with them on Skype, which is a free service. I could get an apartment in Europe, and stay as long as I wanted. Now that’s an idea that is really exciting. It seems really far-fetched and scary, too, until I realize that what makes it far-fetched and scary is the way I’m thinking about it.
The writing coach in Paris righ now obviously didn’t think it was such a crazy idea. For now, I’ll take Natalie’s advice, and let go of my struggles. I’ll just enjoy the excitement of this idea.
Today, the lightbulb in my head switched on while exploring creative ways to achieve my desire to travel more. I came up with this list:
–Make a list of all the ways I really travel easily (I’m not a picky eater, I am patient with delays. I enjoy walking. I’m strong enough to carry my own stuff. I’m a great houseguest. I’m curious.)
–Make a list of all the ways I don’t travel easily and change them (I over pack, try to do too much at the last minute, hesitate making plans, decisions, and commitments.)
–Watch for airline sales
–Get specific about where I want to go and why—this is it!!!
Getting specific is the key. I have to get specific. How can I travel more if I don’t know where I’m going? This one seems like such a “duh,” but it wasn’t obvious to me until right this second when I wrote this. I’m going to go back to Desire and let some destinations come to me. What places get me really excited? what do I really want to see and learn? Then I’ll get creative about those specific destinations.
So, how about you? Have you gotten specific with your Desires? I bet it’s easier and more effective to Create from a place of more detail.
Today, while on a group phone call with Martha and some other coaches, I was overcome with desire. Impulsively, I told Martha that if she ever wants a photographer for any of her events, I’m available.
Later, I when I noticed that I was calm, I realized that this was totally out of character for me. I used to cringe if I stepped out of my habitual reticence to speak up about what I wanted. My usual, safer pattern would be to say nothing at all, which would have brought prompted scolding myself for not speaking up. Lose-lose, no matter what I did. (And, last time I volunteered to be an event photographer, I freaked out. I wrote about it here.)
But this is different. I feel completely free. Liberated. Joyful. I spoke up and it feels fantastic. No matter what else happens–the outcome is not the important part.
This is desire way beyond yearning for the creative act of photography. I want to speak up when I’m moved and to ask for something that I really want. And to have no regrets, no matter how it’s received.
Here’s another stillness method, this one from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. Simply sit and smile for a few minutes a day. That’s it. I tried it today, and want to report that it is a gem for building joy, as well as a great stillness exercise. Give it a try!
I examined my desire about wanting to get all of the wisdom of my books into me, without spending the time to read them. This idea didn’t inspire or excite me. In fact, it exhausted me. It was based on a (false) story that I don’t know enough, so I need to read more, train more, take more classes, etc. It feels good to scratch this one off my desire list.
Next, I explored my yearning to spend more time on artistic, creative endeavors. When I imagine sitting with a brush in my hand, totally absorbed in the colors of paint going onto paper, I feel excited, joyful, alive. I’m onto something with this one!
In fact, the more I imagine myself painting, with a brush full of vibrant, jewel-toned colors, the more certain I am that I want this in my life, and that it is going to happen for me. I’ll open to possibilities, messages, and straightforward as well as unusual methods of having more artistic expression into my life. This feels good, and I am smiling as I write this.
So give it a try. Sit (or walk) and smile for a while. Notice how the simple act of smiling makes you feel. Do you feel a shift inside? Now find something from your list of desires that makes you smile even more. What is it?
What we’re doing in this week’s exploration, is getting in touch with our hearts, the physical seat of desire within us. Can you feel the feelings in your heart? When you long for something, when you yearn for it, don’t you feel it in your heart? And isn’t that where do you feel love—love for your partner, for your child, for a puppy? When you are deeply moved, isn’t the feeling most intensely in your heart?
Here’s a reminder to appreciate this wondrous place within us: Our hearts work tirelessly, without stopping for 70 or 80 or even 100 or more years, never taking a vacation. It beats about 100,000 times a day, 40 million times a year. It pumps 2 gallons of blood each minute, over 100 gallons per hour, through a network of veins and arteries that is about 60,000 miles in length, which is more than twice the circumference of the earth.
As for me, the clearest message from my heart today is to find new ways to help my clients with their stressful reactions to the current economic situation. That is the clearest message of desire and longing I’m having. Meanwhile, I’m going to appreciate this amazing place within me—it pumps my blood without rest, and sends me messages—messages that will be the key to my joy.
Here’s my list:
There’s an ancient mango tree next to my cottage; it’s magnificent, with a thick, gnarled brown trunk and long glossy leaves. How many hurricanes it’s withstood is anybody’s guess. It’s been barren for at least 35 years, which is how long I’ve had this place. This year, inexplicably, it flowered, and then, magically, massive clusters of fruit appeared.
