From Empty to Bounty: 12 Days

DAY ONE

Today is Sunday — the one that’s a week and a half before Thanksgiving. If I’m going to commit to the Eyejunkie 4th Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series, today is the day to begin. I woke up thinking that this morning.

Fourth annual. I can hardly believe it’s correct to even write that. Yet, it is. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog long enough to have a 4th annual anything. But, I guess I have. As I’ve glanced through the  12 Days themes of year one, year two and year three, it’s easy for me to see the changes in my own life — my own heart — as portrayed through this odd little record. It’s easy to see the constant aspects as well.

I’ve spent the last week trying to decide if I really wanted to bite off the daily morsel of a 12-day writing commitment this year. On Friday at the end of a long (and somewhat busy) week, I was feeling the pressure of many things. One of those things was the choice of writing about Thanksgiving for twelve days. The choice of thinking about thanksgiving for twelve days, in addition to everything else that seems to be enveloping my mind. To say it was daunting at that moment is an understatement. Honestly, I really couldn’t imagine how I would do it.

“My life is so empty right now.”

Ha! I actually had that thought. As I sit here taking a rest from the morning playing with Little Drummer Boy, Bug and Baby Girl, I know that statement doesn’t even approach the truth. I mean, not even close. Yet, I thought it. And although I knew the folly of it almost before I articulated it in my mind’s voice, still there was some element of the statement I had to consciously admit and explore.

My life is not empty. But, at least at that moment, my spirit was. My gumption was. My joy meter. My energy level.

It happens sometimes. There is something about life that squeezes us out — even if we don’t mean to get wrung. Sometimes it’s the reality of grabbing everything we can from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim at least something from an experience. Sometimes it’s the reality of carving out time and energy and brain space from a multitude of activity to believe we are actually having an experience at all — a life. And, whatever combination of those realities had materialized in my thinking over the last few weeks, the result manifested itself as a sincere and credible feeling of emptiness.

The great chasm between empty and bounty doesn’t really have alot to do with how much is in the refrigerator or the closet or the project list. In my limited experience, it doesn’t have much to do with the bottom line or the season’s record or whatever other tangible poll standings my thoughts may try to calculate.

No, if the last three years of 12-day thanksgiving experiments holds true, the transition from empty to bounty has nothing to do with those things. And everything to do with perspective. An internal perspective, a way of seeing and interpreting that leaves us bursting rather than wanting.

About two seconds after the fateful thought of “my life is so empty” crossed my consciousness, I knew. I knew I was in serious need of a perspective adjustment. There is a certain misery that I imagine results from spending a life running on empty. I believe the joy of gratitude is just the jump start needed to shift the balance. My own experience can testify that the giving of thanks is a heart and mind readjustment. It can provide a recognition that enables me to draw my living from overflow rather than from scarcity. Life DOES overflow. MY life overflows. My life is full of many precious things and people and experiences. I don’t want to claim “living” from any other perspective.

So, the 12-day experiment in the power of gratitude begins again. A journey from empty to bounty. Join me.

Oh Happy Day: Hula Hoop Edition

It’s Friday! Oh Happy Day! It has been quite a while since I’ve written for my Oh Happy Day gratitude project. You may recall that I started as a way of making the TGIF statement my own — as a way of consciously incorporating gratitude in my life so that the TG wasn’t just a silly acronym. In my experience, there is no better cure for stress, worries or a case of the down-in-the-dumps than heaping dose of gratitude. The joy that comes from taking stock of the blessings you have right in front of you is powerful.

I learned that lesson from my 6-year-old this morning. Again.

We were walking into school and discussing the day. I couldn’t remember what extra activities he had on Friday. Was it art or music? Little Drummer Boy was quick to confirm art with this commentary…

“I love art. And PE. Because we get to play with hula hoops.”
[insert Mommy smile here]
“I can do magic with the hula hoop. Do you want to hear about it?”

Who in the world could resist hearing about magic with a hula hoop. From MY spectacular first grader. So, of course, I gave him a resounding “yes!”

Little Drummer Boy proceeded to explain. [You'll be happy to learn that his first grade teacher confirms he is indeed a drummer boy. In math.] He told me how he could roll the hula hoop and make it come back to him. I asked in amazement if he had a magic command to make this happen. He said “no,” that he could just do it. There’s my little magician, all happy and full of expectation about the possibilities of hula hoops and magic on Friday.

I couldn’t help but compare his enthusiasm to my own begrudging thoughts when I first woke up this morning… Ugh. It’s time to get up. I’m so tired today. I’m just not excited about anything today. Sigh. And a plethora of other dumpster attitudes.

Today is Friday. When I think of LDB and his PE tricks, I’m reminded of the magic to be found in each day. In THIS day. This day is another gift with the privilege of three little hearts in my house. Baby Girl dressed in pigtails and her brother’s torn jeans and plaid shirt for “farm day.” Bug all aglow with jets flying toward “vegetable soup” day with saltines in hand. And Little Drummer Boy. With the hula hoops. This day is another gift with the privilege of doing something I really enjoy. And getting paid for it. It’s a day with the privilege of choosing my steps, big and small. Of setting my own schedule from my own little office in my own blessed world. It’s another day with the opportunity to let my best self shine. To do my own bit of magic. To live according to what matters to me. For Friday is TODAY.  And at this moment, TODAY is the only day I have to live. The only day.

So, I think I’ll search down a hula hoop. And it’s magic.
Oh Happy Day!

Courage: Where Am I?

Ever have one of those days when you look around you and say, “where am I?” I don’t even recognize this place. I don’t recognize MYSELF in this place. HOW did I get here?

2010 was filled with lots of those days for me.

For the last couple of years, I’ve chosen a “theme word” for myself in January rather than laboring over the typical new year’s resolutions. The goal was to adopt a single word (a concept) I wanted to explore and magnify in my life for the coming year. The word represented something I needed or wanted to develop, a new area of growth for myself sought out in words and action.

The theme word for 2010 was Courage. As soon as I began the process of choosing a word–as soon as I even had the thought, really–I knew that Courage was the one for 2010. I had reached a point of intersection in several areas of my life. An intersection where the day-to-day realities of living didn’t match the hopes and dreams I was banking on. An intersection where I saw a Haley I never wanted to be, a Haley I felt sold myself short, a Haley uncomfortable in her own skin and yet oddly complacent in that covering. An intersection of which I had become undeniably aware. And, no matter the level of distraction I infused in my life, that awareness couldn’t be denied. And, it seemed that every action and every thought begged the question, “where am I?”

So, Courage jumped to the forefront of my mind. If those life realities weren’t the authentic life of meaning I needed–demanded–for myself, then something had to change. I had to learn confidence and courage. I had to develop the courage to make changes, to take actions, to form new habits, to move. Away from this intersection in a new direction.

Easier said than done sometimes. For we are indelibly mired in our own skin and the trappings of our own making and choosing.

I thought 2010 would be about action. About brave acts of throwing off the bindings. About rejecting foolishness. About having the courage to stand up for myself and my gifts, the courage to create that life of meaning in concrete ways. About the courage to act. And it was to a degree. Still, I reached December with a decidedly uninspired mindset. For all the blessings and accomplishments of 2010, I saw the year as one of failure in many ways. I surveyed the landscape of my life and found the same intersection. The same frustration with the self I saw in the mirror. The same discrepancies between all that looming potential and the nut and bolts realities. What had happened to my courage?

I couldn’t even begin to think about a theme word for 2011. But then, as the evaluations of last year began to sink in, I started to realize something. 2010 WAS a year of courage for me. Perhaps not the “charging the hill” type of bravery the term immediately calls to mind, but courage none-the-less. Last year’s courage involved counting costs. It involved the sometimes painful commitment to look at myself squarely in the face and recognize that I wasn’t the person I wanted to be. It involved an undaunted gaze at my own life situations, recognizing the areas where I had willingly given over control and wisdom and compliance where it shouldn’t be. It was a courage of realization. The courage to recognize and accept. And it isn’t always fun.

Counting the cost takes courage. Taking stock of what your choices are costing you, what they are costing what is most precious to you, is not for the faint of heart. And admitting I’ve been more than willing to pay for everything that cost me dearly has been downright debilitating at times. Taking a close look at my own part in the hard situations I see around me–in that intersection–isn’t easy. But, it’s a necessary first step to having the courage to act.

Having the courage to step forward or step back often begins with accepting that you brought your own self to this unknown place. That courage to look at our own flaws and diminishing tendencies without blinking is a prerequisite to the courage required for change, for action. It’s the kind of courage that throws off distorted views and watered down visions. It’s a clarifying courage, one that puts questions more easily into perspective. It’s a courage that imbues each small step with more as we see that person begin to become more in line with who we know we need to be.

I’m realizing my work in courage isn’t done. It may never be done, but at this intersection, a new measure of courage is certainly required. And I’m ready to see where this new courage can take me. So, I’m continuing my theme of courage for 2011. I imagine some of the essays on the subject will be a little more personal in nature, perhaps a little more raw. Following through with courage tends to do that. I hope you’ll hang in here with me as you seek out areas of courage in your own life this year.

The Woman I Want to Be

“She bears watching.”

It was a statement I heard my grandfather say about my grandmother on several occasions. “She bears watching.” It kind of makes me giggle to think about it again because it was so true. My grandmother’s birthday was in early December. She’s been gone for over ten years now, but she was (and still is) a strong influence in my life. I was thinking about her recently and this observation from her husband.

If there’s one true thing about my grandmother, it was that you never knew what she might do with the raw materials before her. She was ingenious, creative and thrifty. She had a hearty laugh and a coy smile. Her spirit was exuberant. She wore her heart on her sleeve and was proud of it. To me, she never seemed enamored of ridiculous trends. She always seemed very comfortable with herself. Perhaps that was the by-product of experience and a well-lived life, but I usually attribute it to her own resolve to be who she was. And though she molded herself with each conversation to enjoy the person before her, she never lost that essence of herself. She often marveled at the world changes in her lifetime, the inventions, the new ideas. And she acclimated to each one. She basked in the attention of others. She never shied away from speaking from her true self. My mother is like her in many ways and particularly in that regard. Sometimes I wish I could say I was.

Yes, I have the creativity and the ingenuity. I have a hearty laugh and my heart is often on my sleeve. But, when I look at myself I don’t see that thing that my grandfather lovingly admired. Maybe it’s there somewhere, buried underneath my habits and complacency and status quo, but at the moment I feel mired in predictability–my own predictable tendencies. And I ask myself, “where is that thing that ‘bears watching?’”

Where is that thing that makes people pay attention in spite of themselves? Where is that thing that makes those around me wonder what’s happening next? Where is that thing that takes charge of my existence and wrestles it firmly into grasp? Where is that thing that demands more than simple crumbs from the feast of life and is willing to take hold of the spoon?

Somehow in my growing and learning and living, I’ve awakened to a girl I don’t know. A woman content to accept silence. A woman content to be molded by the foolishness of others. A woman content to settle for less than that feast. It’s not the woman I want to be.

Sometimes the hardest thing is going against my own bent–to resist the urge to be myself. That self that has become so accepting and passive. The self who isn’t who I want her to be, whose complacency doesn’t demand that closer look. No, sometimes the best way to be able to truly be myself is to resist the urge to do just that. It seems strange.

Self is a funny thing–some amalgum of past actions, future hopes and all the seeing and being seen in between. Sometimes I get in my own way. Because I can so easily default to my own tendencies in dealing with people and situations, my reactions can become inauthentic. They become habit. They facilitate bad habits. They communicate things that aren’t true. Without my even realizing it. They enable. They make decisions for my without my involvement. They set the course for future actions. Yes, sometimes my own blind predictability is my worst enemy.

One evening last week, I saw something. I saw that woman I want to be. Just a glimpse. In a moment of rebellion against myself, I spoke about things. Things that matter to me. I made demands. About things that are important to me. About deal-breakers. I insisted. On the way I want things to be. I rejected. The shallow nonsense and what merely sounds good. And I saw her.

There she was. That girl. The one who “bears watching.”

12 Days of Thanksgiving: K

Kindness.

I’ve been thinking recently about the value and impact of kindness. Kindness is big news at our house. Teaching it to my little ones could unfortunately be described as a battle at times. And what’s interesting is that unlike learning things like “don’t touch the hot stove” and “cat rhymes with bat,” kindness is a lesson that never ends. It’s a continual process. I often inundate my kids with admonitions like “be kind,” “kind words,” and “kind voice.” I try to convince them that regardless of the situation–for them, regardless of who’s taking what toy from you or who’s trying to wrestle you–you can always choose to act and speak with kindness.

Hmmm. Easy for a Mommy to say. But, I’ll admit it’s not always so easy for a Mommy to do. And since these lessons are often most successfully “caught” rather than taught, I guess that’s a problem. Why is it that we, as adults, so often lose sight of those simple acts of kindness?

With most of these lessons of cultivating gratitude, I’m finding that being thankful for something is the first step in appreciating and incorporating that thing into my life in a more meaningful way. So, I’ve been thinking about acts of kindness. The ones that have impacted me over the years. The things that were perhaps “easy” to a person at the time, but entered MY sphere at a moment when they added fuel to my fire. You see, we never really know when those moments are before us. We never know when some simple kind word or look or action inserts itself into a complex situation, bringing clarity and strength. That’s the power of kindness.

I’m thankful for the professor who took time to have a simple conversation when he learned I was leaving my pursuit of being an architect. His simple statement… “I think you’ll do well there,” began my career as a graphic designer with confidence.

I’m thankful for the friend who pulled some strings to find me a place to live when I needed to get out of a damaging relationship. Without asking any difficult questions.

I’m thankful for the mentor who calmly confirmed my decision to get divorced from my first husband with the simple statment… “I saw your light get dim with him.”

I’m thankful for the blog reader who took time to email a simple message… “This site crackles with life,” at a time when I was questioning whether this whole writing thing was worth my time, when I was having a hard time seeing that “life.”

I’m thankful for the unabashed and spontaneous “I love you” from one of my children, reminding me of why I do all that I do.

I’m thankful for the unsolicited recommendation of a long-time client, opening up new doors as I try to provide for my children as a small business owner.

The list could go on and on. One moment leads to the next in my recollection of those that have made a difference in such simple things. A gift of money freely given. A meal provided at a difficult time. The decision to cover the check at the restaurant. The compliment. The vote of confidence. The kind voice. The smile.

I’m realizing that so many of the epiphanies and “moments of truth” we ardently seek are not accompanied by lighting bolts and booming voices. They are often precipitated by kindness. Found in simple moments all around us. I want to show up for those. I want to give those.