Category: Day-to-day

Goldfish Memory

So, I’m driving to work and listening to the TED Radio Hour podcast “To the Edge.” I hear the phrase “goldfish memory.” I don’t think he really said that, but that’s what my brain heard. The poet-me liked the phrase, though. Is it memory of being a goldfish? Is it what goldfish remember? Then I got to work and my mind took the idea and ran: The same route to work; the same route home. Replenish food. Same route home; same route to work. Tuesdays go to tutoring, then writing group, then the same route home. Go to the library and get new books. Go to work, go home, read, write, go to bed. Swim by the bubbling treasure chest. Repeat.

I replayed the podcast (which was a 2013 repeat!!), but never heard any words that came close to “goldfish memory.” Where did it come from?  A google search shows the fish actually have about twelve days of memory and there’s an Irish film of the same name.

I change jobs sort of frequently, but it’s the same kind of work with laptop, meetings, spreadsheets, email and calendar. Walk down the cubicle row. Is it different if the cube is big and has a window? Geez, I’m going to cry.

Before this moment, when I’d think of a goldfish, I’d think of people staring at someone while they worked, i.e., being in a goldfish bowl. However, the goldfish has no awareness of someone staring at her. Most people, though, want to be noticed and have attention (within their control). Think the glass house in Connecticut. The difference is tautological. The goldfish cannot get out of the bowl. It doesn’t even know it’s in a bowl, in water. “What’s water?” it might even say.

“Sure, I’d wanted to get outside of my comfort zone, but what I’d sort of failed to notice is that getting out of your comfort zone is by definition extremely uncomfortable.”Roz Savage, rowed across the Atlantic Ocean. TED Radio Hour Podcast – To the Edge

 

The Opposite of Lying

. . . is not telling the truth, but I’m not completely sure what it is yet.  I have been working on this idea for a poem for a few weeks now.  I asked some friends what they thought about truth:  do you believe in THE TRUTH (all caps, serifed font, floating about 45-degrees above our heads)?  Or is all truth subjective and based on each person’s point-of-view?  The query generated some interesting conversation.  I am not a person who likes to stick with safe subjects.

I keep noticing lines in songs (there are a lot of songs about liars and lies…) and conversations in movies about this concept lately.  Then, I had a passing thought today about someone, “Oh, it’s because she’s lying about her work, and it’s affecting other parts of her life.  She’s just not aware of it.” While this may be true, the key really is that if I am thinking this advice for anyone, it’s something I should look at for myself.  “I am not a liar” jumps right to my lips.

Research says we are all pants-afire! http://mentalfloss.com/article/30609/60-people-cant-go-10-minutes-without-lying.  I wonder if I could track myself for a week or so.  I really wonder where the prevalence of this thought-train is going to end up taking me.

Self-pity is not Self-awareness

Days Without Pirate Attack:

Days Without Pirate Attack:

Two (frosty) zero days in a row.

Maybe sometimes in this human body and with a human mind, I will just have a sucky day.  or days. Can I list the “reasons?”  sure.  is that beneficial?  nah. It’s not beneficial because it keeps my attention on the idea that there are reasons I’m not happy other than the simple decision to be happy — no — matter — what.

What is that is so seductive to the ego-identity about a victim’s disposition?  Why is it so easy to go there?  How did I get the belief that happiness is ephemeral, fleeting, but sadness is consistent?

What am I getting out of self-pity?  It’s certainly not self-awareness, although I think I just realized:  that’s it.  That’s the trickster.

Hmm. . .

Heard in passing but couldn’t chase the person down:
“My mind doesn’t always want what’s best for me.”

Seriously?!  Just walking down the hallway at work?

Cognitive Dissonance

This morning I’m noticing the magic of what catches my attention or should I say, the magic of where my attention goes. Wait — where’s my active voice?

This morning I’m noticing what I put my attention on.

These three sentences are sticking in my mind. Each has a very different source heard during the past few days:

“I was lying – I didn’t really want to let go of those last few character defects.” (comedian in a podcast)

“You’re stubborn; you don’t want anyone telling you what to do.” (friend to me in a phone call)

“I miss the acting out.” – (character in a movie)

I wonder what I say I want to change, but I don’t really. What have I justified to myself or created internal logic to reduce my discomfort (cognitive dissonance)? The challenge is getting past the safeguards my mind has built to disguise the belief.

Looking at the second statement — what do I know about that?

  1. My idea of myself is based on thoughts I have about myself
  2. My thoughts are not necessarily real (mostly not)
  3. I can know myself only through reflection
  4. What someone else says about me is as much about the speaker as it about me
  5. It is an excellent head-fake by my mind to move the focus to him
  6. His observation is likely accurate

I’ll start with the assumption of true: I don’t want anyone telling me what to do.

And what comes up is a feeling that I am starting to explore. The best label I can think of for now is “fight or flight.”

More to come. . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being kind to myself

I thought I was treating myself well.   I got a massage regularly.  I got facials and pricey haircuts.  I showered with Yves St. Laurent fragrance.  I bought only food I loved.  I was kind to myself in the realm of “bubble baths and brownies,” as my sister so eloquently put it.

In what matters most, though, I was unaware how stingy I was.

To be kind to me, I talk to myself as I do a friend in pain or a child in need of understanding – with love, patience, and kindness.  My critical voice is so quick to respond.  Eventually, she will stop responding.

The kindest way I can treat myself is to live the life I love, doing work I love, spending time with those I love and reflect that back to me.  The meanest treatment I can give myself is to limit myself.

In that moment is all that is

Days Without Pirate Attack:

Days Without Pirate Attack:

I went to a play last night with friends from work: Tom Stoppard’s Travesties at the American Players Theatre.  Stoppard made my brain hurt, but in a good way.  But this is not about the play.  Before the play, we went to eat and sat and talked for about two and a half hours.  Talking with lovely, smart women is one of life’s great pleasures, isn’t it?

At about two hours in, I told them how great it felt today when three contractors, who were leaving the company, came to my desk to tell me goodbye and express how much they had enjoyed my presence when working with them.  They were each highly complimentary, telling me how much they valued my optimism and fun attitude.  I thanked them each and returned the compliments (easy to do; they are good, talented people).  It felt great to get that feedback from three separate people, because I have been getting a distinctly different message from my boss (i.e., you are not competent).  I told my friends how I had had a realization recently that my idea of me was only made up of thoughts I had and, if thoughts are not real, then my idea of me is not real.

“How can you know yourself then?” one asked.

“I think the only way is through reflection in others,” I said.

I told a couple of stories that were examples of how disowned parts of me kept showing up in others and the easiest way to find those parts is to watch where you have a strong reaction and judgment of another.  That repulsion is a part of you that you exhibit, but don’t see or you push down really, really hard and it pops up Whac-A-mole® style, in some other person.  I told them about how I had had a strong reaction to a person there at work that was frequently sick or out for some alleged (!) ailment.  I explained how I processed this experience by acknowledging the part of me that was like the other and took time to fully experience what it was like to be that way.  I then told them the “miracle” part of this process.  The next week that judged person turned in her resignation and left the company.  That part piqued their interest!

“One of three things will happen if you own your part and fully experience it:  you won’t care anymore or the other will stop doing it, or they will leave your universe.  It’s happened for me many, many times.  The magic comes from the understanding and compassion you gain for yourself and for the other.”

One of my friends mentioned her reaction to her son’s foot-dragging on college applications.  I asked, “Can you see any way that you do that same thing?”

While she was thinking about it, we realized it was time to leave the restaurant for the theatre.  As we walked to the car, she asked again, “How do you do that?” I responded that I would go over it again in the car.

She was driving and had to negotiate her way out of a busy parking lot and onto the road.  But not more than a half mile on the way, she exclaimed, “Oh!  I see it.”

What I could see was her full body reaction to the awareness she’d just experienced.  Her face and body read clearly that she was changed and she knew it.  It was an exquisitely beautiful moment to share and I am grateful to have had a part in it.  In that moment we both expanded and touched the part of us that is all that is.

We drove west into a prismatic sunset framed by noctilucent clouds and talked about the possibility of seeing the northern lights this week.  For all the natural beauty I saw last night on that drive and in the woods and hills surrounding the theatre, nothing could compare to the light of awareness on her face.

Zero days every day

zeroThe last few weeks have been an amazing self-awareness learning experience while slogging through painful, emotional bursts.  Even while reacting, I am aware that I am likely over-reacting to many situations. 

I’ve uncovered beliefs that are working against each other, “You can’t tell me what to do!” butting up against, “Universe, tell me what to do!”  I’ve sat in and floated around in every icky feeling that’s come up.

“What I already know is not what I want to learn.” – Peter Ralston, The Book of Not Knowing

I am willing to explore my visceral reaction to being told what to do at work.  I find:

Being right – feels like safety.

If you make me wrong, you threaten my survival (perceived).

Telling me I’m wrong is what comes right before being hit.

Telling me I’m wrong is telling me that I AM WRONG.  Not that I did something in a different way.

This is why my reaction to correction is so strong.

This is why I pre-emptively respond to be right.

This is why I make that person WRONG.  They’re doing it WRONG.  And for my (perceived) survival, they have to be wrong.

It.s a terribly vicious circle.

Paradox

I’ve been reading a little bit each day of The Book of Not Knowing: Exploring the True Nature of Self, Mind, and Consciousness by Peter Ralston.   Most mornings it kicks my butt.   The other morning I stopped reading at this quote,

“Why are you unhappy?  Because 99.9 percent of everything you do is for yourself – and there isn’t one.” Wei Wu Wei.

Immediately I remembered a quote from Neale Donald Walsch’s Communion with God*

‘’Indeed, everything that you have ever wanted, you are now supplying to others.  And the wonder of it all is that, as you give, so do you receive.  You suddenly have more of whatever you are giving away.

The reason for this is clear.   It has nothing to do with the fact that what you have done is “morally right,” or “spiritually enlightened,” or “the will of God.”  It has to do with a simple truth:  There is no one else in the room. There is only one of us.”

*Thank you, Jan, for helping me find exactly where it was in the Conversation with God series.

At first it looks like a paradox until you go back to the last line of the Communion  quote, “There is only one of us.”

No self, no other, just all.  Yeah.