Taking Out Each Other's Trash

Gretchen Rubin's latest happiness tweak is throwing away someone else's trash.  

I get the whole thing about doing something small for someone else.  And not just to "boost your self-esteem."  The application with which I am most familiar is related to stress reduction.  It is said, and I have experienced, that the act of slowing yourself down by letting someone go ahead of you in traffic, or in the checkout line--especially when you are feeling rushed and short on time--creates the perception of more time.  It works.  It really does.

Not incidental is the positive feedback that generally attends such public generosity--although occasionally the response is more like "What are you?  Nuts?"  And you can end up feeling a little sheepish.

But the kind of trash that troubles me most in my own environment, I think of as "life trash."  In this category are undone tasks, unfinished projects, and unfulfilled dreams.  It strikes me as a particularly appealing kindness--one I'd love to be on the receiving end of--to help another dispose of detritus of this sort. 

As a mom for more than half my life now, I am in a great position to help out in this way.  Living with two young adult men, I find myself frequently hip-deep in refuse, life- and plain old.  But as a mom, I have learned--not without pain and stumbling, on my part and theirs--that it isn't always a purely good thing to rush into the breach without summons.  

Yet another opportunity to practice that all-purpose virtue--BALANCE.  

But it does feel really good to magnanimously offer to move a load of wash to the dryer for one of my roomies.  Or to put gas in the car when they're running late.  Or to post a letter they forgot to send.  And helping them to experience life as a bit more doable helps me to believe that I can manage, too.  But it's not so much fun if they begin to rely on my rescue.  And if they ask, it had better be done nicely.  I don't do demands from this crew.

And just for the record, if someone offers to do the dishes I haven't gotten to, I'm taking it. 

Done for the Week: Against the Wind

I turned another year older last week.

Time rushes by, and fans me, my good intentions, and my big dreams as it passes.

Here's what I got done against the wind:

Done for the Week:  Oct. 3-Oct. 9, 2011

1. Continued 5K training with my youngest son, in preparation for his first race--Finished Week 6 of 9 Week program
2. Ran once; swam once; biked once
3. Read Away, by Amy Bloom
4. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
5. Published 2 blog posts
6. Continued significant work on current clients' projects
7. Held third tutoring session with clients
8. Registered for upcoming Fall Classic 5K with my son
9. Attended first week of four week Run Better class with triathlon coach Lauren Jensen
10. Had informal consultation with guest orthopedic physical therapist concerning persistent knee injury
11. Participated in 12 mi. Breast Cancer Awareness Ride
12. Continued to give substantial support to my pregnant daughter and her family
13. Found my lost cell phone
    
14. Did laundry
15. Fixed my husband's bird bath with my grandson's help
16. Began clean-up of our ravine with both sons and my grandson
17. Celebrated my birthday
18. Held joint family party for my birthday and my daughter's birthday
19. Took my dog to the dog park twice, once with my husband, once with my son and grandson
20. Watched episodes of Eureka with my oldest son
21. Took our Isuzu Oasis in to investigate deafening exhaust system noise
22. Continued reading Elizabeth George's A Traitor to Memory aloud with my husband
23. Continued raising money for New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity on my Facebook Birthday Wish--exceeded my goal of $250
24. Attended Communications Team meeting
    

The "most important thing" I did last week, again, was supporting my daughter and her family in her high-risk pregnancy.  A seemingly endless round of medical appointments, a last stressful week before leaving her job on an early, extended maternity leave, and increasing fatigue left my daughter in need of many more hours of relief child care than we had scheduled for.  This week promises to be a bit easier for all of us, with fewer appointments and the absence of work pressures.  But as her health is expected to worsen as the pregnancy progresses, we are just trying to take it one day at a time.  Her needs will remain a priority for the weeks to come.



Last week's focus goal, for the third week running, was to "meditate at least three times."  My grade?   F!  Not even F+.  I ended each day in a near stupor, with just enough energy to close my eyes before losing consciousness.  Not enough oomph left for sitting and breathing, or the effort of thinking of nothing.  

I have several hypotheses about my current state of exhaustion.  The most likely explanation has to do with an increasingly crazy and precipitously changing schedule, which has left no time for self-care, including meditation.  I am running on an energy deficit, clearly not a situation that can go on beyond the short term. 

So next week's focus goal?  Make some time for resting and taking care of myself and my home, and staying loose about how that will get done; meditating if I can manage it, sleeping as needed, a hot cup of tea and a good book in my swing in the yard. . . .

Done for the Week: Getting Into Getting Out of Stuff

For the first time since I started this Done for the Week feature, I am a day late (if not a dollar short) in posting it.  I may have some fine-tuning to do on this whole laying back thing.

I am still, however, getting some things finished, of the many that matter to me.

Done for the Week:  June 20-26, 2011

1. Completed Week 7 of 15-week triathlon training program; ran twice; biked twice; swam twice
2. Swam once, ran once with my training partner 
3. Got my son to the gym with me once
4. Finished Motherless Brooklyn, by Jonathan Lethem
5. Attended 2 yoga classes
6. Participated in final interviews for organizer position 
7. Participated in hiring decision
8. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
9. Planted orphaned begonia
10. Put in backyard sandbox
11. Cut back summer blogging schedule
12. Stepped further back from organizational overcommitment
13. Blew off a couple of meetings 
14. Published 4 blog posts 
15. Meditated 2 times
    
16. Had lunch date with my husband
17. Went to Happy Hour with my husband
18. Watched two episodes of Treme with my husband
19. Took care of my out-of-town daughter's dog and house, days 3 through 9 of 11
20. Got various family members, including our dog, to walk temporary foster dog with me
21. Met again with major new website client
22. Went out driving with learning teenager several times 
23. Participated in driving my not-quite-licensed-to-drive son to his job
24. Volunteered with recall campaign
25. Continued spending time on, and making progress with, yard recovery project
26. Spent time outside in my swing, reading and relaxing
27. Continued supporting my 20-year-old in his return to the academic environment
28. Made progress in cleaning/straightening/decluttering work room, bedroom & kitchen

Last week's most important accomplishment, in the opinion of this overworked and under rested blogger, was the jettisoning of some items that have been clogging my agenda of late--this was by way of embracing summer, and its legendary opportunities to sit quietly on the planet and revel in its glories.  Now if I can just keep myself from indulging my busy-ness tic and signing up for replacement obligations, I may begin to recover some much-needed energy.

My focus goal for last week was to begin to declutter our house, and to involve my housemates in the excavation.  The plan was to start with the kitchen, my work room, and our bedroom.  As you can see, in green above, I did make some progress on this goal.  But I am almost always (my family would say always) too ambitious.  Our nest has been neglected for too long, and by too many of us, to be rewoven in a week.  Or two.  Or three.  So I am extending this focus goal at least into next week.  After I have unearthed a modicum of surface space, I intend to fight the impulse to move on, until the hordes of stuff have retreated significantly.

Done for the Week: Still Crazy After All These Weeks

Last week was beyond busy.  Insane, actually. The craziness extended into yesterday, so I am posting what should have been Monday's Done for the Week today.

Here's the list of what I accomplished, in between obsessive absorption in weirder and weirder state political happenings.

Done for the Week:  April 4-10

1. Continued off-season race training, returning to C25K; completed Week 6--three training sessions
2. Finished The Sunday Wife, by Cassandra King
3. Continued significant volunteer support to transitioning nonprofit
4. Attended open house at new recall office
5. Gathered signatures on recall petition; 9 hours total
6. Attended Get Out the Vote Rally
7. Voted
8. Continued to work my two part-time jobs
9. Published 3 blog posts
10. Meditated 6 times
11. Met with my meditation group for the first time in several weeks
12. Called three references for lead organizer candidate
13. Got one son and husband to the gym with me once each
14. Attended 2 yoga classes
15. Ran with new triathlon training partner
16. Attended triathlon training party with Sally Edwards
17. Had dinner date with my husband
18. Registered for upcoming 5K event
19. Got my last learning driver to driver's ed 5 times 
20. Had dinner out with one son

Last week's focus goal was "to complete Week 6, and two of the three sessions of Week 7 of the Couch Potato to 5K program."   I received some news early last week that gave me a bit more breathing room with respect to the May 1st 5K I am planning to participate in.  So I decided not to push my training, given its less than ideal conditions the past few weeks.  

Instead of accellerating Week 6's completion, and attempting to complete Week 7, I decided to adhere more sensibly to the Week 6 schedule.  I was able to complete the three prescribed sessions, and am feeling more confident of completing the program at this point.  I even had a chance to run outside for the first time in months, when Sunday brought us temperatures in the 80s.  It was a pleasure to begin training with my new partner.  I am looking forward to her return from Costa Rica, and to stepping up our routine. 

I believe that the most important thing I did last week was to turn in 3+ sheets of recall petition signatures.  If we are to stop the assault on programs and people I am concerned about in our state, we will need to act to restore our fractured democracy.  My state Senator has been at the forefront of the ongoing efforts to abridge rights and dismantle the social safety net for our most vulnerable citizens, all the while championing tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations.  She and her colleagues have gone far beyond anything the voters were led to expect when they took office.  And they have acted with cavalier disregard for the rules set up to protect the process, and the rights of citizens.  I am hopeful that we are close to completing our effort to give the voters an opportunity to register their reactions to this new reality.

And in the meantime, I will continue trying to find a balance I can live with as we go "Forward, not backward," to borrow one of our movement's chants, this one based on Wisconsin's state motto.

Done for the Week: Giving Up on Perfect

Last week was busier than the previous one.  The community organization for which I work part-time; do way too much volunteer office and IT work; and function as a leader in and outside of my congregation continued to ramp up for tomorrow's crucial election.  I am doing better, however, at pacing myself--necessitated by intermittently swelling family demands, and a level of moral fatigue that is beginning to seem chronic.

Here's the list of what I accomplished last week.

Done for the Week:  Mar. 28-April 3

1. Continued off-season race training, returning to C25K; completed 2/3 of Week 6
2. Finished South of Broad, by Pat Conroy
3. Continued significant volunteer support to transitioning nonprofit
4. Attended meeting of lead organizer search committee
5. Attended rescheduled Issues Night
6. Participated in teach-in on state's proposed biennial budget
7. Worked my two part-time jobs
8. Published 5 blog posts
9. Meditated 7 times
10. Got both sons and husband to the gym with me once each
11. Attended 2 yoga classes
12. Saw my therapist
    
13. Helped my son with emergency shower faucet replacement
14. Cleaned off my dresser
15. Cleaned off desk in my bedroom
16. Cleaned off workspace couch
17. Had lunch with new triathlon training partner
18. Had a 24-hour sleepover with my 3-year-old grandson, including museum visit
19. Had dinner with my sister-in-law and her family
20. Called my mother
21. Shared an evening out with my husband
    
22. Got my last learning driver to driver's ed 5 times 

Over half of the items on my list are in red, because together they represent what I feel is the most important thing I did last week--which was to give myself, my family, and my home some much-needed attention. 

Last week's focus goal was "to complete the remaining training session of Week 5, and the three training sessions of Week 6 of the Couch Potato to 5K program."   

Weather, a hectic schedule, and fatigue combined to derail my plan.  Intentions to run on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday all bit the dust, and it was Thursday before my feet met the track.  I had revised my training schedule to omit the last Week 5 session, and had started with Week 6, session 1. Saturday was to have been my second training session, but it was "rained out" by a sudden plumbing disaster, requiring immediate attention.  I completed the second session yesterday evening.

I still intend to participate in a 5K race on the first of May--ready or not.  But it is probably unrealistic to expect any perfect training weeks between now and then.  My focus goal for this week is to complete Week 6, and two of the three sessions of Week 7.  This amounts to running three times this week.  One of those runs will be with my new training partner, a friend who plans to participate in the Danskin triathlon with me this summer.

Anne Lamott writes that

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. 

Today, I'm working to believe that this season's training will come together, if I just keep at it.

Done for the Week: Still Marching

We're still at it in Wisconsin.  Week 5 and counting.  And anticipating counting for a long time to come.

This past week saw our legislature ram through a "non-fiscal" version of our Governor's proposed budget "repair" bill, which will have devastating impacts and multitudinous ripples throughout our state. Effects will officially begin to be felt as soon as our State's Secretary of State can be forced to publish it in the state's newspaper of record.  Already unprecedented numbers of public employees are rushing to retire before the law takes effect, seeking to abandon the sinking ship.  Lawsuits and investigations are multiplying, as every avenue is tried to block this package of measures, which will effectively neuter collective bargaining by state employees, cripple if not finish off public unions, undercut the Democratic party in this key state, put health care for the uninsured and medically underserved under the control of the executive branch of state government, and allow no-bid contracts for sale or lease of state-owned power plants by state administrators--among other distressing effects.

The process of passage of this bill was not a pretty sight.  It featured a Governor-orchestrated sneak attack which substituted a bill stripped of the fiscal items that would require a quorum--that quorum made impossible by the absence of 14 Democratic Senators.  In less than two hours, the bill had been announced, shoved through an abbreviated conference committee section over the vociferous objections of the Assembly minority leader, and passed by the Senate, too late to hit the evening news.  The Senate had voted unanimously not to print or read the bill before voting on it.  Only one Republican senator voted against it.  After it was passed, these trigger-happy Senators were escorted by police from the capitol building. 

The next day, the Assembly voted on the bill, in a similarly harried fashion.  Some Democratic representatives had to use windows to get into the building in order to vote, after being refused entrance by police attempting to keep people out.  Debate was cut short.  As it turned out, the no-bid contract feature was back in the Assembly version, having been omitted from the Senate version (who knew?  who could have found out, given the lack of a printed bill?).  This item was particularly abhorrent to those who were wise to the cronyism involved, and the fact that Koch industries already had job ads out for positions running these soon-to-be sold off state assets.

Needless to say, actions continue at fever pitch.

I keep hearing that we're going to be trading in our rally signs for clipboards, hitting the streets in recall efforts and focusing on key elections coming up on April 5.  And I keep answering the phone, and receiving calls to action in ongoing rallies. 

I continue to try to tend to my own life, with variable success. 

Done for the Week:  Mar. 7-Mar. 13

1. Continued off-season race training, still challenged by state of political chaos in Wisconsin; biked once (supplemented by lots of walking in demonstrations)
2. Finished The Return Journey, by Maeve Binchy
3. Gave significant volunteer support to transitioning nonprofit; major I.T. contribution 
4. Gave 1-1/2 days to facilitating interviews for organizer position
5. Worked my two part-time jobs
6. Published 5 blog posts
7. Meditated 4 times
8. Got my husband to the gym with me once
9. Attended meeting of committee to hire new organizer, and convened subcommittee to finalize interview questions
10. Had a movie date with my husband; saw The Adjustment Bureau
11. Watched our 2 teams play 2 basketball games, with my son and my husband
12. Attended 5 rallies, 4 locally and 1 in Madison--including two "homecoming" events for Fab 14 Senators; rubbed elbows with Jesse Jackson and Susan Sarandon
13. Played several games of chess with my son--lost all
14. Attended 1 yoga class
15. Had long breakfast with friend
16. Spent way too much time online, following unprecedented political events in my state, "working" Facebook, Twitter, and political sites, and updating my organization's website daily to reflect minute-by-minute scheduling 
17. Took one daytime nap, and got to bed "early" twice

Again, I'm going to say that rest and recreation--in red, above--were the most important items of business this past week.  A friend of mine remarked when I met up with her in Madison on Saturday, describing her reaction on opening her empty refrigerator, "You can't fight a war on an empty stomach."  And I can't stay in the battle without adequate sleep, and occasional refreshing diversion.


And again, I had a hard time keeping meditation in my sights, though my focus goal for the week was "to meditate daily, no matter what." 

Next week's focus goal--for the third, "charmed" time, I hope--will be to meditate daily, no matter what.

Resting Up

I've written about sleep before.  Last summer, sleep became something of an obsession, as a change in medication temporarily halted my nightly sojourns in the land of nod.  That state of insomnia in extremis lasted nearly two weeks.  Sleep has been mostly a nonissue since then.

I am once again being reminded of its importance.  Unlike last summer, I am not experiencing difficulty falling or staying asleep.  I am having a hard time making time for sleep.

My days are passing in a blur.  An already crowded agenda is being pressured to accommodate an epic political battle and a preschooler's schedule-altering sniffles.  My evenings are spent working.  My blog posts are being written when I'd rather be in bed.

Earlier this week, I wrote that

As this goes on, we will have to learn to live in and outside of our ordinary realities.  We have a long fight ahead of us. 

We are at two and a half weeks and counting in our fight for the soul of our state; and for the survival of our citizens and the patchy safety net that has protected us from the worst that a failing economy has thrown at us.  It is time to start pacing ourselves.

I am going to start with getting better sleep.

Buenos noches.

Later, Santa!

It is not the holidays!  Not yet.


So could somebody please tell the people down the block who have a fully decorated Christmas tree occupying their living room window, in plain sight, on Friday, November 19th? And their neighbors, whose trees are dripping lights, which they are turning on in the late afternoon, before some of us have even left work.  And the stores, which have been piping carols and holiday lilts for weeks now.  Especially the department store chain which seems to have determined that we will all buy more if greeted at the door by a "holiday scent," which permeates every section from toys to cookware, and lingerie to collectibles with an odor resembling a moldy Christmas tree.  And the mall my grandson and I ducked through last Monday--on November 15th!--where Santa was already in residence, complete with elves and pictures-for-purchase.


I don't want to be a Grinch, or a Scrooge, or worse, yet another grouchy malcontent holding forth on the subject of too-early commercial holiday promotions.  But I am finding the whole thing increasingly oppressive.  I'm having a hard enough time managing the pesky black dog of depression that comes to sit by my hearth in the waning light of autumn, and dealing with the press of work and the backlog created by my flagging energy and lousy boundaries.  Being nagged about "the holidays" every time I step outside the door, turn on the TV or radio, or pick up the newspaper is pushing me over the edge.  The effect of this communal gun-jumping is that I am made to feel even more behind than I actually am.


The sight of jillions of people cramming into retail establishments for early November "doorbusters," weeks before "Black Friday," is a guaranteed downer for me.  So few of us can afford to spend like that anymore, if we ever could.  Many will spend too much of the new year "decluttering" our homes after filling them with another season's detritus.  And surely everyone sees through the "50%/60%/70% off!" ruse that fails to disguise the recent doubling and tripling of original prices.


As a Unitarian, I do not personally connect strongly with the movement to "put the Christ back in Christmas."  I am as much an appreciator of Hannukah and Kwanzaa and Dewali, as of the yuletide traditions I grew up with.  But I am absolutely opposed to hype and pressure and materialistic overspending, no matter its ritual umbrella.  And to "ringing [it] in" before its time.


So please don't wish me Happy Holidays until at least December.  And don't ask me to save the ailing economy by putting it on my Mastercard.  Me and my dark furry companion will be celebrating serenity and the end of the plunge into darkness in 32 days.  And counting.

Procrastinating 101: Finding Right Work and Making Work Right

This week's Procrastinating 101 post deals with Chapter 7 of Marshall Cook's Slow Down. . . and Get More Done, entitled "Do You Really Have to Hate Monday Morning?"  In this section of his book, Cook discusses the need to "make work right" and to "find right work."  In keeping with his overall focus on the quality of our lives, and of our working lives as well, Cook holds that the way we experience work is more important than how much we get done.  He opens with the example of two ditch diggers responding to a question about what they are doing.  The first answers sarcastically to the effect of "What does it look like I'm doing?  I'm digging a &*(^&%^%$ ditch!"  The second, putting his work in context, replies that he's helping to build a cathedral.


The second ditch digger illustrates how we can "make work right."  In addition to the way that we think about our work, the way we perform our work can also contribute to this endeavor.  Relevant to this is the Shakespeare quote on my calendar for yesterday:  "Things done well and with care exempt themselves from fear."  And, we might add, from alienation.


Alienation from work fuels stress, and is the flip side of overinvestment in work--what we have come to call "workaholism."  Cook acknowledges that many of us 

• work weekends and holidays
• have a hard time unwinding and taking a vacation
• break dates and put off leisure activities to get more work done
• have a hard time distinguishing between "work time" and "time off."

But he differentiates "happy hard-workers" from "those whose hard work actually impairs their ability to live full, happy and balanced lives."  He offers these questions to help us determine which label applies to our work mentality.

• Do you ignore unmet needs and sacrifice relationships because of your work?
• Do you family and friends suffer because of your work habits?
• Do you resent the time spent working?
• Does work leave you exhausted?
• Could all that busyness at work be in some sense an escape from other responsibilities?

Cook goes on to discuss how each of us can find the work that is right for us.  Personal values, and balance between work and family are key.  He tells us that "Discernment and fulfillment come in four stages," which are "easy to list. . . .but aren't easy to do."  They are:

1. Know who you are.
2. Choose what is right and true for you to do with your life.
3. Believe that you will be able to do it.
4. Be willing to pay the price for your choices.

He urges us to

[f]ind work that matches your disposition, your aptitudes, your interests and your values.  Follow your inclinations and intuitions.  Heed the urgings of your heart.  Seek the right way--not the safe way, the easy way or the accepted way.

He concludes the chapter with this "5-step process for making work right and finding right work:"

• See the big picture
• Become constantly better at what you do
• Look for and create opportunities
• Make a plan
• Do something every day to work toward fulfillment of your plan

All well and good.  But I have difficulty applying this outlook to my own life, working and otherwise.  I have something in common, perhaps with early hunters and gatherers, who, Cook tells us, "had no separate work for 'work,'" which "was more a natural part of the flow of the day."  I moved away from work addiction when I left "my brilliant career."  One seemed to necessitate the other, and neither felt congruent with the family life I wanted, especially as that family became more complicated and more demanding.  I do a lot of things that feel like work in a day, but much of it has been, for years, and continues to be what sociologists call "emotional work."  In my case, this has entailed caring for children and for elderly parents.  The things I've done for pay have been meaningful, but not radically different from other caring work and the volunteer work that has taken up a good deal of my time.  I am in the process of redefining what I consider "my work," to focus on the writing I always planned to do.  But I probably have more work to do on "making work right" than on "finding right work."


I'm working on it.


  

Now What?

Part of a group of 10 young Nepalese women who scaled Mt. Everest in 2008

Finishing the triathlon I first dreamed of entering 11 months ago brings me once again to the challenge of coming down from a personal Mt. Everest.  My intention is to handle this descent with more grace and aplomb than I have previously mustered on such occasions.

Earlier feats that have involved elements of fatigue, let-down, the need to rest without resting too long on one's laurels, a sudden shift in a rather stringent routine, and the question of  what new focus might arise, have included giving birth; completing a stint as a special ed para working one-on-one with a severely autistic child; finishing grueling semesters as a graduate student; turning in my master's thesis; passing doctoral prelims; coming to the end of semesters teaching college; helping care for my father through a long terminal illness; transporting my frail elderly parents back to their Louisiana home after Katrina brought them to live with me; and ending a number of demanding temporary jobs.  In each instance, I recall the inability to relax, to remember what I did for fun before being sucked into the vortex of this latest absorption.  


(Incidentally, my wetsuit model was Xterra's Vortex 3--an upgrade when the Volt I'd ordered was on back order.  And I experienced wearing this rubber deathgrip, especially at first, as though I'd been "sucked into" it.)


This time, in my latest venture, I tried to balance my effort throughout with yoga and meditation and mindful self-care, along with continued interest in other parts of my life.  It remains to be seen what the aftermath of the triathlon will bring.  But I suspect that, despite the unaccustomed high of the last few days--after a long difficult onslaught of challenging life events and circumstances, I am not used any longer to success, and to elation--I am going to have an easier time "coming down."  


For one thing, I don't intend to abandon the exercise that has become an important part of my life.  As the post-race soreness and tiredness recede, I am slowly resuming physical activity.  And I mean to adopt, and keep to, an "off-season" training routine that will maintain a base of the endurance and strength I worked so hard for.  


For another, I am enjoying a new calm, which I imagine is a product of having faced some pretty intense fears.  Other things that have intimidated me now seem more doable.  The lesson is fresh that "doing the thing I think I cannot do" brings amazing benefits.  And there are a lot more "things I think I cannot do" where that one came from.

For starters, there is the novel I started this summer, and put on the back burner in order to concentrate on the triathlon.  The feeling that "If I can do this, I can do anything" is waiting to be harnessed.  

A Basic Middle Way To Do List for Difficult Days

The last week or so has been kind of a tough time.  And I'm anticipating a bit more of the same.  When things get harder, I am tempted to veer to one of two extremes.  Either I load up my to-do list and try to power my way through.  Or I take to the couch.  (Not my bed, of course.  That would be just too depressing!)


Seems like a good time to reflect on the Middle Way.  

And what, monks, is the Middle Way realized by the Thus-Come-One, which gives vision and understanding, which leads to calm, penetration, enlightenment, to Nirvana?

It is just this Noble Eightfold Path, namely: Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. – The Buddha, Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta

Gary of Buddha Space, writing on the Middle Way for--oddly enough--The Middle Way, tells us that

According to the Buddha, the Middle Way is a life lived between the extremes of self-denial and self-indulgence. Neither hedonist nor ascetic are to be imitated, for the Noble Eightfold Path weaves its way through life avoiding both these unenlightened lifestyles. 

This Noble Eightfold Path, set out for his monks by Siddhartha Gautama more than 2500 years ago, is deceptively simple.  Inherent to its meaning are the precepts of balance, acceptance and mindfulness.  


Since I am not the Buddha, nor do I play one on TV, I struggle to wrap my 21st-century cluttered mind around his wisdom.  But the guidance I receive this morning, whether the intended understanding or not, is that I need to keep going, but to do so gently, and without judgement, at this time.


And so here is my pared-down to do list, for difficult times:


1.  Keep breathing
2.  Fulfill necessary obligations (work, family responsibilities) to the extent possible
3.  Meditate
4.  Get some exercise
5.  Sleep
6.  Clean something
7.  Read something
8.  Write something
9.  Be kind to someone
10.  Eat something healthful and good-tasting


For today, that is enough.  

The Center's Not Holding

I’m having a hard time staying on course lately.  The community organization that has been a large part of my life in the last few years is in crisis—yet again—and I’m getting drawn in.  I’m not sure whether I’m attending a prolonged wake, or handing instruments to roadside surgeons.  The field is definitely contaminated.

Personally, I am presently engaged in the process of reconstructing my routines, and refocusing my efforts.  This is a project I know too well, having spent most of my adult life living semester to semester, as a student, an instructor, a parent of students, and a professor’s wife.  I have also juggled part-time and full-time work with mothering, which has required me to restyle my days on a regular basis.  I know that I am not alone in this but, at least among my friends and acquaintances, I seem to have experienced more than my share of flux.  So I’m a little off balance to begin with, these days.

I’m giving myself a little talking-to this morning, consisting of the advice I would give a friend who found herself or himself in similar circumstances.  And I am telling myself to give some thought to how much flexibility and responsiveness I can afford, as I react to the new demands and opportunities created by my organization’s death rattle.  And my answer needs to be, not so much. 

It has taken me months to reach this place, where I am beginning to do things that I have been planning/wanting to do for a long time, and to have some clarity about where I want to put my energy, what is important to me, what choices I have.   The years are short, as Gretchen Rubin reminds us, and I don’t want another of these precious periods to pass only to come around again to the same point.  And though my Buddhist teachers would perhaps say that “progress” is an illusion, I think they might also be sympathetic to my desire to be in my own here and now.  And on my own path.

So I am reminding myself not to jump ship.  My ship.  If I need to throw out life preservers, or lend navigational skill, or put in a call to the Coast Guard, I am more than willing.  But I have my own vessel to pilot, and going down with my large and listing seafaring neighbor is not an option.  

The phrase “whatever floats your boat” carries a flavor of hedonism, but in this case, I am what floats my boat.  And it is my job to keep it afloat.  As I witness the struggles of the perhaps doomed craft whose crew I never really left, I need to stay aware of my own weather, and keep my oar in the water.

Making Progress Sitting Down

Soooo. . . the good news is that my ankle isn't broken, though apparently we can now resolve the issue of whether or not there really was a fracture four years ago.  There was, and it left a small bone chip floating around at the site of that earlier injury, which is causing some of my current discomfort.  More good news is that I can continue to train for the triathlon which is now just over nine weeks away, with modifications subject to my healing process.  In the meantime, I have to keep icing, elevating, resting, and wearing the extremely sexy footwear shown here.  


Unfortunately, many of the things I feel some pressure to get done require standing and walking for significant periods of time.  Of course, there's always the strategy of relying more on family members to pick up some of the slack.  But they are already spending more time waiting on me for basic things while I am literally immobilized, and some of them are historically unlikely to carry their own weight, let alone mine, with respect to household chores--even in normal times.  


The floor of the room I am sleeping in to avoid the stairs is presently covered with hazards, as is the floor of the bathroom I am utilizing.  I have misplaced the cell phone I could use to call for assistance (after silencing it at meditation the other night), and can't get up to search for it.  I am beginning to lose my sense of humor about being hobbled and sidelined.  I would make a miserable handicapped person.


Two things come to mind as I reflect on this frustrating, but temporary situation.  One is Kurt Vonnegut's short story "Harrison Bergeron," from his collection Welcome to the Monkey House.  Wikipedia summarizes it this way:

In the story, social equality has been achieved by handicapping the more intelligent, athletic or beautiful members of society. For example, strength is handicapped by the requirement to carry weight, beauty by the requirement to wear a mask and so on. This is due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th amendments to the United States Constitution. This process is central to the society, designed so that no one will feel inferior to anyone else. Handicapping is overseen by the United States Handicapper General, Diana Moon-Glampers.

Harrison Bergeron, the protagonist of the story, has exceptional intelligence, strength, and beauty, and thus has to bear enormous handicaps. These include headphones that play distracting noises, three hundred pounds of weight strapped to his body, eyeglasses designed to give him headaches, a rubber ball on his nose, black caps on his teeth, and shaven eyebrows. Despite these societal handicaps, he is able to invade a TV station, declare himself Emperor, strip himself of his handicaps, then dance with a ballerina whose handicaps he has also discarded. Both are shot dead by the brutal and relentless Handicapper General, who demonstrates the hypocrisy of such equality in the first place. The story is framed by an additional perspective from Bergeron's parents, who are watching the incident on TV, but because of his father's handicaps, and his mother's average intelligence, they cannot concentrate enough to remember it. 

While I don't necessarily see myself as superior to others, I can't deny that I am privileged in many ways.  Maybe it's only fair that I be slowed down from time to time in order to learn to appreciate my advantages, and to gain compassion for some of the difficulties others must work with all the time.  


The other thought comes from the book I am currently reading, Little Heathens:  Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression, by Mildred Armstrong Kalish.  Kalish gives such a warm-hearted account of her family's survival tactics that the reader is hard put to locate the hardship in her experience.  In his blurb for the book's back cover, Jim Harrison, author of Legends of the Fall, says:

Little Heathens is an enchanting but thoroughly unsentimental look at rural life in the Great Depression.  In clear, clean prose we are offered the grit, struggle, and also the joy of hard work on a farm.  I cherish this book for its quite naked honesty and quiet lyricism about a time which makes our current problems nearly childish. . . .

Maybe the legend of my fall could be a smidge less whiney.


For the time being, I am going to work at feeling a little less sorry for myself, and at figuring out how to move forward from my seat on the couch.  I don't have to experience this as procrastinating.  Rather, my body's momentary condition has taken me off some hooks, for now.  But not all.