All this political stufff is driving me crazy. And I don’t even have a TV!
My granddaughter, Amberley Brynn McGuire, was born a few days ago. I find myself wondering, “What kind of future can this child have? If some people have their way, she won’t have health care, or birth control, or any type of equality. She probably won’t have water or clean food. She won’t have unions or social security. She won’t have…”
Then, looking at her picture on my Facebook page, I happened to glance at a Tenacity Notes, also posted on Facebook. June 10, “Lamentations.” In it, I suggest that focusing on solutions feels better than lamenting. In fact, I suggest a specific solution. Whew, just what I needed!
I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that I sometimes look at back issues of Tenacity Notes.
Remember a couple of issues ago, I talked about pausing to experience gratitude every time I got in my car?
Well, the circumstances of my life got a bit whirly, and I completely forgot that lovely practice. However, after some time I came to my senses, and I started again. And am I ever glad I did.
Here’s the thing — once I began my car = gratitude practice again, everything changed. Even though it’s also true that nothing changed — the circumstances didn’t change a bit. But my interpretation of those same circumstances changed considerably — and so my experience of those circumstances changed. Whirly-ness departed. Worry retreated. Sleep became easy and restful. And solutions presented themselves to me. Just like that! (Imagine me snapping my fingers. And grinning.)
On a more personal note, today is my mother’s 102nd birthday. And she is just fine, thank you. Still quick-witted, healthy, and relatively mobile. I am very like her, and I’m only 67, so I’m planning on being around for quite a long time yet.
Also, Debra and I are about to join the fall Snowbird migration. Next week we’ll be in Apple Valley, MN for several days, then we’ll mosey on down to our winter home in a State Park in Texas.
Lately, in an attempt to soothe feelings of disappointment, I’ve been saying “it is what it is” to myself.
You know, expectations cause such trouble! In my case, I had not just a simple expectation, but an entire string of expectations. And, as is their nature, my expectations were a set up. I set myself up. How much less wrenching it would have been if I had had curiosity about the situation, rather than dreaming up a whole story (a novel!) about how the situation would unfold.
But I digress. We’ve discussed expectations plenty in the past. Enough of that for now. Back to “it is what it is.”
What I find when I say “it is what it is” is space. I find open-hearted, present-time space. I find space that makes room for wonder, for appreciation, and for gratitude. I find respite from my nattering, recriminatory mind. I find ease. I find a balm for my sad disappointment. “It is what it is.”
A reader writes about gratitude, and a great way to fall asleep:
I like to write gratitudes in my journal just before bed, but often, like you, I forget to do it.
So after I’m luxuriating under the covers and feeling great gratitude for my pillows and sheets and wonderful mattress, I remember about gratitudes, and then I recite the things I’m grateful for that day/night.
Helps me fall asleep.
I want to feel gratitude more frequently in my life, but it seems that I just forget to do it.
I drive a lot. Running errands, I’m in and out of the car a lot.
So I combined gratitude and driving. Now, whenever I get in the car, and before I put it in gear, I close my eyes and think of two things I’m grateful for. Then, since I understand that all form as sentient, I imagine that the things I’m feeling grateful for receive my gratitude and like it.
I like my new practice.
We were in the Boundary Waters for two weeks. Wonderful.
The Loons sang us to sleep, and the White Throated Sparrows sang us awake.
Deer moseyed into our campsite, paused to look, and moseyed out again.
Birds pecked for seeds at my feet.
I loved that the animals did not see me as a threat.
The stars blew my mind.
The weather was chilly but wonderful. Oh, it was truly awesome.
Big waves and whitecaps on the paddle out! Exhilarating!
We’re eager to return.
I will be off the grid and out of touch for a while.
I won’t have access to email, voicemail, phone or text.
I will have access to water, sky, trees, and campfires. And Walleyes.
I’ll be canoe camping in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness — an extended trip.
It’s a bucket list kind of thing.
I’ll be back around the 1st of August. Maybe before, maybe after. I’ll let you know.