Diving Deep: On Biker Bruises, Keeping Childlike and Meeting Pain Wholeheartedly

Yes, it’s summer in Seattle. Finally! Blue skies and just the right heat makes today absolutely perfect. We’ve had our first strawberry from our garden and some salad greens. Yum. I’m ready to milk this weather for all its worth in the next two months. Except today’s edition is going to be about…pain. Yah, I know. But seriously? You can’t have joy without pain, so let’s bring it.

First, A Story
Today, Yesterday, I almost nearly had a panic attack. And I hadn’t had one in a really long time.

My husband rode his bike to work yesterday morning (perhaps inspired by his bike-riding boss, Mike McGinn) and had a little accident. Nothing big, but he came back home with some bruises and a minor shock to his system. He showed up later than usual (which wasn’t unusual although I had this sixth sense that something was up) with bits of blood all over and it turns out he had his first wipeout as a commuter biker on a really busy street. And an SUV-driver passing by played good samaritan and gave him and his bike a ride home (which is a good reminder never to judge anyone, even those who drive gigantic gas-nozzling vehicles.)

He’s not badly hurt but we went to the Emergency Room last night just to make sure nothing’s broken and to get a tetanus shot. As we were waiting for my husband to get all cleaned up and checked out, my mind started to think of how it could easily have been much much worse. And how it could have made one of my greatest fears come true – to lose a loved one unexpectedly. I’m so afraid of the losing part, that I won’t have any time to say good-bye. But mostly I fear my heart may never recover from the loss.

How People Die From A Broken Heart
That my heart may never heal, and being that I’ve been on this recovery road towards wholeness of sorts, that would really suck. That it would set me back ten times from this healing process I’ve been on these past few years. That maybe it would be the last straw to really put my heart out of commission and ruin its capacity to trust ever again.

And it’s not that I’ve suffered gigantic losses that make headlines, you see. I’ve only had the small everyday stuff that most everyone goes through. But it’s my loss and it’s my heart and when you don’t really process that as it comes, it’s sort of a negative hit in your emotional bank account and over time you end up with one big debt that gets harder to pay by the minute. Death by a broken heart.

Meeting Pain: Hello!
It’s only recently that I’ve learned to really process painful stuff in my life as they come, and to process it with kindness and gentleness and a lot of love. In the past, I tended to ask questions like “Where is God when it hurts?” kind of stuff. (I have all the books on the topic, by the way. They are free for the taking. Just send me an email.) I was never in denial of my pain but I wallowed in it. It’s only later in my adult live that I’ve learned to work through my pain, except I still tended to punish myself for it or try hard, so very hard, to make it count. To make it matter. To turn it around.

But something I’ve learned from my little girl, who is often a source of Pure Wisdom without her even knowing it, has made all the difference in the world: that all is well, and all manner of things shall be well. Not that she’s had a painful existence in this life, but when she encounters pain in her everyday, it doesn’t matter how small or big it is. Pain is just that, pain. She responds in however way she needs to express her grief or shock or fear and looks for a Source of Comfort in the most unashamed way. And then once that whole process is done, she is over with the pain and moves on. Always in the moment. Always present to the here and now.

Yes, we are to guard our heart. Life and healing from it flows. But our heart is much stronger, resilient and trustworthy than we believe it to be. And it can take on any Pain we meet in this life, provided that we interact with our Pain wholeheartedly and trust that there is Joy through that. And that in the end, there is only Love.

Back To You
So how are you with meeting pain wholeheartedly? Do you tend to deny the pain that comes your way or do you graciously make space for it? Do you hold on to your pain and wallow in it, as if sort of a badge that you’ve suffered in this life greatly? Or do you believe that your heart is strong and resilient and trustworthy to meet Pain with kindness?

Please share in the comments below, if you feel safe enough to so do. Which is my hope. But whatever feels right. Feel free to post this on your Facebook wall or tweet it to your friends. Spread the Love. And the Light.

Can We Start Over? Sorta. (On Getting Unstuck and Moving Forward)

By Lonely Radio

Don’t you sometimes wish you can just hit the RESET button and start all over again? I often do. A sure sign of being a perfectionist. I love to journal and I frequently have lots of unused pages in each of my journals because after awhile, I get kinda tired of the theme of my story in the said journal and I get myself a new one for a whole new narrative I get to create.

If only life were that easy to do over.

But it isn’t. Forgiveness does not come naturally. Not for others and especially not for ourselves. And the ease from which we can proceed forward? Almost impossible to find.

First, A Story
The past few months, I’ve been spinning my wheels trying to figure out how to make a living without letting go of my most valued role here at home: mothering my little one. The thing is, I know how to make it happen. Or at least in theory. I have a vision of what I want to do, I know what my strengths are and what I’m super passionate about. I’m super ready to do my thing.

But it seems like every time I try to work on my project, I get stuck.

S-T-U-C-K.

And being stuck feels like yuck.

Being stuck makes me just want to start all over, as always.

Or beat my head with a stick (figuratively, of course) hoping to figure something out.

Or just quit. Which I’ve done many times in my life. Something that Seth Godin actually encourages us to do, as long as it’s quitting the right thing at the right time.

Which I get wrong most of the time.

So, yes. I’ve been stuck for a long time now. In case you hadn’t notice.

Now, I’ve tried reading all kinds of advice on productivity and the likes and honestly? I am so not a big fan. Sorry Getting Things Done (GTD). Not for me. I believe that productivity has spiritual/emotional roots (and a physical one too..sugar=coma for me) and you can’t deal with just the symptoms and hope it fixes things.

Anyway, I was ready and willing to pull the plug on this blog and just forget the whole darn thing. So close to joining a network marketing business instead. (Which I’m not suggesting is bad, just a bad fit for me is all.)

Until one day, while once again trying so hard and working furiously on what, I’m not exactly sure, I came across a blog post by Havi Brooks (the “coach” I would so work with if I were ever to work with one…I so have a crush on her) on being stuck, and it struck me deep and hard I almost started laughing. She writes,

Destuckification is about the willingness to meet yourself where you are.

Yes. Yes. And Yes.

She is Freakin’ Brilliant. And I was showered with epiphanies. (Warning: Havi has a language of her own so enter her site at your own risk. But it’s really a good kind of risk, if you ask me. It took me several tries before I got her message.)

I realized I’m feeling stuck because I’m trying so hard to make something happen that isn’t ready to happen just yet. That I need to be nurturing this thing I’m supposed to be doing and that it will be ready when it’s time. That this thing has a life of its own and I really need to learn to listen to it, honor it and treat it with as much kindness as it deserves.

I also realized that I’m feeling stuck because I’m also NOT ready to birth this thing quite yet. And that what I really need is to learn how to be kind to myself and birth this process in the most compassionate way possible. Not beating myself with a stick for simply being where I am at, which is Perfect in every way right this minute. I realized that I am hurrying up this thing because I feel guilty that I get to stay home with my little one when so many others don’t have the option and want to. I also realized that there are still parts of me and my dream that need more TLC necessary for the kind of thriving and flourishing that my thing would require of me, if I were to start offering it to the world.

There is nothing wrong with needing time to nurture myself, nurture my dreams and nurture my present reality. I don’t have to justify being a stay-at-home mom who truly loves spending time with my daughter and making a home for my family. I am so darn glad that I get to do this. And I don’t have to feel bad that I am not earning any income right now. Taking care of my daughter and running a household is a full-time job and a half for me. Other moms may run million dollar empires while changing diapers, but that’s their story, not mine.

I also realized that everything has a season. This is a season for nourishing my home: the place where I am building my family as well as my personal home – my body and my life from which I hope to create this thing that is dying to be born. I have a deep trust that all will work out and that I’m exactly where I need to be.

So What Does This Have To Do With You?
So glad you asked. If you are one of the few who still follow this blog after all the aborted revolution, unannounced hiatus, blog identity crises and whatever else that may potentially piss off a blog reader, I can only deeply humbly thank you. I mean, wow. You spend some of your precious time here? It blows me away. But then again, not really. Because see, I’m finally understanding what it means to find my Right People. The kind of people who are drawn to my story. The kind of people I am most likely to serve in this little world of mine. The kind of people I get to encourage with my narrative and eventually, my thing.

And that’s you. Or at least I hope so.

I’m writing for you. And no one else. (And me of course, but that’s not the point.)

I’m nurturing this thing for you. Because really? We don’t get to change the entire world. Just a small portion of it. The part that connects with our context. You have your thing as well. And you have a small (or big..it’s all relative anyway) portion of the world that you get to serve with your thing too.

And so this is why I’m starting over. Sorta.

A Nourishing Home: A Make Over Of Sorts
In the next few months, I am going to focus on nurturing myself, my dreams and my thing. My own personal “home” I guess. Of course, in the context of me nourishing our home family home. But that’s just the context. The main course is going to be about my personal life. Which is really what I’ve been writing about but have always felt guilty that I don’t write enough about actual child-rearing stuff, home-making stuff or you know, food stuff so I include them here and there. I’ve also been afraid that maybe people will think I’m narcissistic for writing so much about…well…me.

But that’s my superpower you see. I’m really good at listening deeply to my narrative and uncovering what needs to be uncovered. The truth I don’t want to see. And in so doing, I inspire others to listen deeply to their stories too. The goal is to live in freedom. To be who we Truly are. And Wholeness. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s save that for when I reveal my thing in the not so near future. Whenever that might be.

I guess I’m kinda glad there is no RESET button. I guess I really don’t want to start over. Just maybe redefine stuff and start a whole new chapter. Works for me.

If you read all the way to the end, wow. You are truly one of My People. IF so, would you kindly introduce yourself? I’d really like to get to know you and your story.

Sacred Saying A Sunday

To be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others, and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves. It is a tormenting tension and it must be borne, but the choice is clear. –Clarissa Pinkola Estes

An Exercise In Being Me: An Introduction To All Things Filipino And My Childhood Dream

Photo By E>mar

Part of me feels like I should not endorse the video below for whatever politically-correct reason that I can’t think of right now. Whatever. The truth is, I laughed so much watching this video that I almost cried. It got me wondering whatever happened to my own Filipino accent and shortly thereafter had me trying so hard to bring it back!

 

And then I started to think about how much I wanted to be some sort of a singer/actor/performer when I was a little girl. A forgotten dream. Because it was so darn silly. I remember when I was much much younger, I was always singing and dancing and making up songs like it was nobody’s business. It was just so stinkin’ fun.

And I was a natural. Sort of.

I was always a good dancer and danced my way to my high school dance team (in the US) but a singer? Not quite. My mom and I always laugh about this one incident, a singing competition, where I totally shocked everyone as I started to sing a song that I made up on my own right on the spot, a capella. I did it on a whim. A song that needed to come out. Unfortunately, it was an inspiration that nobody else shared, least of all the judges.

I’m not sure I ever performed again with such nakedness ever since. I turned to writing instead. But when the itch came to perform, I opted for safer and much more “respectable” alternatives like teaching.

I’m growing the courage to do something about this revelation, but in the meantime, enjoy the video below. Thank you Mickey Bustos for reminding me how I’ve forgotten parts of who I am. And for helping me back on the journey of reclaiming all bits of it.

What about you? Do you have a forgotten dream? Do share in the comments below. And once again, I only ask that you share this article with others if you think it was worth your time. And I sincerely hope it was. Have a lovely weekend!

What Do You Want For Breakfast? :: On Frosted Flakes and Me Being A Flake

Last year, I wrote a series called, “What Are You Having For Breakfast?” where I began with a challenge to give up boxed cereals for a much more nourishing early meal. I worked my way through milk and eggs and was planning on making my way to dinner and even dessert. I was so passionate about sharing all the life-shifting things I was learning about food that very few people (at least in my “real life”) seemed to share. But as usual, my ADD tendencies got the best of me that I barely made it to lunch. Much like how I barely made it past two weeks of the so called Revolution Of The Nourishing Kind I started last Fall.

Except let’s be honest. It’s really more than just ADD. And today, I wholeheartedly confess that I’ve been somewhat of a flake.

Yes. A flake. Someone who struggles with follow through.  And it’s not because I plan on doing so. I just change my mind a lot about things. Both small and big. Like how I totally have made up my mind about seeing a friend and then finding myself suddenly too busy the week after. Indeed, I am the Queen of Indecision. Or Flakiness I suppose. I confuse people a lot with the many paradoxes in my life. Most of which are unintended. And I thought completely harmless.

Until I had a child who started to understand the words I was saying. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the Zoo.” And then tomorrow comes, and I totally change my mind and we head off to the beach. “For lunch, I’m going to make us some salmon cakes.” Then lunch time comes, and I totally change my mind and I drag my daughter to the local deli and eat something that was not even close to salmon cakes.

Until I had a child who started saying, “But Mama…you said….”

Until I had a child who called me out.

And that woke me up like nothing else can.

I realized that to her, I’m not just changing my mind on a whim. I’m telling a lie. To her, I’m not just having a hard time making up my mind on something. I’m being unreliable. Untrustworthy.

And it was a stab in the heart because I didn’t mean to be those things. I really just thought it was me being open-ended, alert and awake to new ideas and possibilities at every turn.

But was I ?

Yes in part but it also came down to this:  I just don’t know what I want. The ideas and the possibilities that come to me are often from the outside and never within. And that they are always and forever changing. I’m often open to suggestions from all sides and I follow them like rabbit trails until I’m hopelessly lost and I don’t even know how I got started or where I was going.

And here’s the rub: I don’t know what I want because I don’t know who I truly am.

How did I get here? So disconnected and out of touch with me? I wondered. What kinds of food do I really like to eat? What clothes do I really  like to wear? What kind of church would I really want to go to, if I ever end up going back again? Am I really as introverted as I say I am?  What would I really like to do in my free time, now that I have such limited amount of it? Who do I really want to call friends in my life? And what do I really want to do when I grow up?

These questions sound so trite, and yet hold the freedom so elusive to me it seems. The freedom to live from the center of who I am, be fully present to every choice I am making and owning each choice fully without apology.

But here I am in this journey, asking these questions like a wide-eyed child, as if waking up for the first time in a very long time. And today, I ask myself what is it that I really want to have for breakfast. Not what I should eat. The latter is far easier to answer: nothing sugary please.

So I’m going to sit here until the answer comes to me. Either that or I’m just going to help myself to a bowl of frosted flakes. Heaven help me.

What about you? What do you really want for breakfast? Will you share in the comments below if you can relate? Or whatever thoughts this article spurs you to think. Be brave. Share your story. The world will be better for it. And if you are so inclined, kindly share this with as many people as you can, yes? Thanks, friends.

Giving Fully Of Yourself Vs. Giving of Your Full Self

Photo By Cheesy42

I always get confused with who I am and who I think I’m supposed to be. I read this and that and find someone’s story amazing and then I try to make it my own. Supposedly, I have a gift for empathy but often, I take it too far, this putting yourself in another’s shoes. More than anything, what I really need to be really really good at, is to put myself in my own shoes and be happy, cozy and complete right there.

Motherhood, as glorious and enriching as it is, turned my identity upside down. I was consumed with mothering my child and meeting her needs as best as I could. Having read so many books that have helped me see the world through my little darling’s eyes, I tried so hard to be the mother she needed me to be. Even though many times, I didn’t exactly feel like I could live up to it. Some say that I may perhaps have overdone it, this mothering thing, staying at home with her for the first three years of her life, slowing down considerably so she can have a peaceful home from which to find order and confidence and best of all, herself. Sometimes, even I question whether all this “sacrifice” was necessary and to be honest, I don’t fully know.

But I followed my heart, and here I am, watching my daughter open up to the world with laughter and humor and curiosity, and wondering whether she would have been the same had I perhaps decided to leave her in the care of others. But what does it matter? I have a few more years to decide whether to homeschool her or not, and until then, perhaps it’s best to enjoy these short few years of watching her grow up and become her own person up close and personal, in an everyday kind of way.

But then I think of how in that everyday kind of way is where I get lost sometimes. It’s where I lose me, often times. In the everyday tending to the needs of those I love, I neglect to tend my own needs. I don’t set out to become a martyr mom but I tend to cycle towards that. And slowly, I’m learning to break out of it, as I am discovering the big difference between giving fully of myself, but giving of my full self.

Giving fully of myself without stopping to think who I am or am becoming in the process, leaves me dry and bitter and sterile and…bitchy. That much I can admit. Giving fully of myself without making sure I am giving out of a full self is a recipe for resentments of sorts, a blog sorta abandoned, maladies of the undiagnosable kind, and a bit of a strained marriage. (This is all hypothetical of course and I’m not at all writing from experience. Ehem.)

So giving out of a full self. Now what would that look like?

Now it’s your turn. What do you think? Is there a difference? Do share. And if you think this article is worth sharing, I’m all gratitude. Facebook, Twitter or link away! And then turn off your computer for the weekend, and milk the weekend for all its worth!

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