Day of Rest

This morning on Facebook, my friend Mary Anne Radmacher asked, “Do you think the front of your fridge makes any kind of statement?” She went on to say, “I have often thought that the fridge captures the essence of the home. What is inside feeds our body and what is on the outside feeds our soul (laughter, memories, reminders).” I took the above picture of the inside and outside of my fridge, posted it, and said, “Mine, inside and out, is just like me: a passionate mess sharing her busy, full life with three boys, trying to figure herself out. (Note the three different calendar magnets on the outside and the light inside is burnt out).”

I think some of what my fridge says is that I’m busy, disordered, and overwhelmed. I’m trying to be two people, live two lives, as well as love and care for three others, and it’s too much. I’ve held on to some things for too long, things that no longer serve me — if they ever did. I’m moving so fast and taking on so much that I’m distracted, sometimes don’t even see what I have, what’s right in front of me. When I’m hungry, I don’t always allow myself access to what I need, what would be satisfying and filling. I love how Mary Anne’s perspective, her question, the picture I took captures where I’m at, moving from a year where my guiding word was “home” in which I came back to myself and my space, to one where my word is “nourish,” in which my intention is to feed and to cherish. I can see when I slow down and look closely how I’ve changed, as well as the places where I still struggle.

My snack this morning after a long walk with my three boys, exactly what I was hungry for

I’d already spent the morning thinking about how I feed myself. I read a few chapters from Heath at Every Size, and one section seemed especially important, relevant to where I’m at right now.

While it is clear that our food choices are a matter of personal responsibility, it is important to recognize that we do not make our choices in a vacuum. We select our foods in an environment toxic with government policies that encourage cheap prices for foods with low nutrient value, and in which billions of dollars have been spent to convince us to distrust ourselves, to overeat, and to eat foods laced with ingredients that raise our setpoints and damage our health.

I find myself turning away more and more from external pressures and expectations, beliefs that I at one time had internalized as my own. For so long I attempted to live in line with what was expected of me. I really wanted to be a good girl, pretty and fit and nice — agreeable and acceptable. Things about me that didn’t fit with the norms, I hid, rejected, hated. I felt ashamed and uncomfortable and awkward. I can see it now for what it was, so much self-hatred and self-aggression.

I’m learning to trust myself, my own innate wisdom, my own hungers. I’m practicing self-compassion. I work towards every thought, every action being something that says “I love you.” Some of the transformation is visible, but so much of it is still hidden, internal, secret. I’m not sure you’d see it if you looked at my refrigerator.

Recently I mentioned something I call the “sweet spot.” It’s a concept that for me has its origins in hiking. I started noticing that when we go hiking there is a spot, a moment that comes after miles of hiking, some of which were maybe difficult and even made me want to give up, a moment where/when we reach a vista with a beautiful view, or a spacious clearing under a vast sky, or a particular cluster of rocks or a specific tree or meadow of wildflowers, and I experience this moment of awe, amazement, gratitude. All the hard work is worth it to be able to see this — the sweet spot.

I’m living in a particularly sweet spot in my life right now. To get here I’ve experienced many difficulties, some that I’ve shared here and some I haven’t because they weren’t my stories to tell. At times I wanted to give up. I’m so glad I didn’t. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this, this sweet spot, this particular magic, this specific moment in time.

I was contemplating yesterday how I sometimes get stuck, when there’s too much to do, so much I want, and I’m frozen in place, can’t seem to do anything. I understand that it’s because the awareness of all the things at once is too much. To be able to get anything done, I need to focus on just one thing at a time, the thing I’m doing right now. To be aware of it all at once is overwhelming, feels impossible, makes me want to give up. I have to break it down into smaller bits — what do I need, want to do right now? That’s it. Just do that one thing.

I read somewhere about a book or a class related to focus or organization or something that recommends an exercise where you set a timer for 30 minutes and clean your toilet. You gather all your supplies ahead of time so during the half an hour, you are only cleaning. For that 30 minutes, the full 30 minutes, you do nothing but clean your toilet, every nook and cranny. The intention is that at the end of that half an hour you have a super clean toilet, as well as a new appreciation for what it means to truly commit to doing something, to being present with it completely, to giving that kind of attention to one thing at a time.

I’ve realized that in order to offer and accomplish everything I wish for, I have to take this sort of approach — one thing at a time. It’s too much to focus on all the changes, all the miles at once. I have to take one small piece and work there, give it all my attention. Then, I move to the next small piece, take the next tiny step. It’s the only way I know how to get anywhere.

All of that effort adds up, and I find myself in the sweet spot. Rachel Cole creates a three month intensive program, Feast, that seems as if it was created just for me. My friend Courtney Putnam offers me a spot in her amazing writing class, Zen Pen. I go on retreat with Susan Piver and I write the opening to the book that’s been worming around in my brain for the past year. In her annual report for the Open Heart Project, Susan announces that one of her goals for 2015 is to offer meditation instructor training and certification. We figure out what is wrong with Sam and are able to help him, which means he’s a much happier dog. Ringo grows up so much, is so much easier to care for, is such a joy. I’m a yoga teacher. I quit working with a trainer and a whole new world of movement opens up for me. I take refuge vows. I stop coloring my hair and clean out my closets. I start cooking more and eating better. I finish the Self-Compassion Saturday eBook and almost 400 copies are downloaded within the first few weeks.

So a reminder for me, and maybe for you as well, kind and gentle reader: Don’t give up. Don’t be overwhelmed by what seems like a vast distance between where you are now and where you’d like to be. Take one small step, and if that’s too much, take a half step. Focus on one thing at a time, one breath. Have faith that all the tiny things, the small parts, the bits and pieces will add up over time. Know that there is a sweet spot, and if you keep moving, no matter how slowly, you will find yourself there. Maybe you are there right now?