Not a resolution, but a commitment

I’m not much for resolutions with a new year. I know this milestone is arbitrary, of course. Maybe I should think about resolutions at the vernal equinox, summer solstice, or the earth’s aphelion [that’s a word for a poem, yes?].

Rather than make it a negative (stop eating cookies!) or completely personally-focused, I’ve decided to make a resolution that will enhance my practice for gratitude and awareness. On the Deer Park Dharmacast (podcast) this week one of the Buddhist nuns spoke about two friends who sent postcards to each other listing five things for which they were grateful. What a wonderful idea!

I’m going to do a similar practice. I’m calling it “a postcard of a small thing.” I commit to sending two postcards a week to two friends. On it I will note a small item of beauty, gratitude, or an insight. I figure I can schedule it for Fridays and get them out by the end of the weekend. I feel more comfortable putting it on a schedule.wisconsin postcard

Hmm, I wonder where I’ll get postcards around here that don’t all extoll the glories of cheese.

It will be fun to find postcards, to see if I have to “come up with something,” or if I will have something to write ready. Best of all, I’ll be sharing and connecting more this year. If I eat less cookies along the way, well that’ll be good, too.

Where am I Lying?

This all started with a random thought (a judgment) about another I mentioned in a previous post, The Opposite of Lying.  “She’s lying about that and it’s affecting her life and she doesn’t even realize it.” Drat. If I thought that, it must also be somehow/mostly/completely about me. How do I do lie?  What is The Truth?

Days Without Pirate Attack:

Days Without Pirate Attack:

In the wonderful way attention works, I read this passage yesterday. Although the author was laying the foundation for concepts, it’s applicable.

“When something is held to be true or real, existing outside of our imagined, we hold it in a different category than something that’s known to be just a concept. So does that mean that what we define as true is something we believe exists outside of our imagination? In doing so each of us frequently perceives an idea as if it were a self-evident truth.

On the other hand, if you realize that these attributes are conceptual in nature, immediately you will experience the possibility that you can change them or get free of them altogether.” Peter Ralston, The Book of Not Knowing

ah-ha! A lie requires believing an idea to be true.

Where am I lying? My being is true. Only thoughts or ideas I have are possible to be lies. Saying them is the manifestation of my thoughts about myself or thoughts about another through myself. (I’m already solid on “there is no other.”)

Where am I lying? Lies to my self rely on an idea of should-self. I should be making more money. I should have a new car. I am better than her. I am not like him. I am right. You’re doing it wrong, etc…

“You cheated on me.” “No, he doesn’t mean anything. I love you.” Are both of these lies?

How about the deflector method? “You broke my favorite cup.” “Technically, the cup, when acted upon by gravity, broke itself when it encountered a denser object – the floor. It was the Earth’s fault.” This is angels-dancing-on-the-head-of-a-pin semantics.

A lie requires believing an idea to be true.

This is not a syllogism, though. All ideas are not lies. Ideas and concepts are just that – something in my mind, my imagination.  But. . . lies exist only in the imagination, therefore truth lives only there, too.

Where am I lying? I have a lot of answers now and a clear idea about the beliefs that need rooting out and why I reflected the judgment on to another.

 

 

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?

Secret Decoder Ring (Yes, it’s a poem. Read it out loud)

I have realized recently that the critical voice in my head sounds amazingly like my dad.

who is dead, by the way.

but when I step to the side and listen to the voice –

not as a voice that’s telling me what to do,

but as one listens to a recording,

fragile and scratchy,

preserved as sound

waves from the past –

I hear what I now call

“Dad Speak.”

I have the universal translator,

a secret decoder ring

to unravel the babble and garble of

driving instructions, money lessons and job advice,

ridicule with appellations of stupid, dumbass, and warnings like

don’t be an idiot!

Do you hear that voice, too?

All of those what-the-hell-were-you-thinking

questions that aren’t really questions

that echo worry and fear and sleepless nights

and show up as language for someone

who never learned to speak

words of tenderness and love.

I answered back in the same tongue, of course,

fluent in the dialect I acquired at home

sharper and more acerbic

until the acid rawed my throat

Only then did I stop to listen.

If you set the decoder on forgiveness

and adjust to compassion

all I can hear now is

I love you I love you I love you

and I answer back, I love you, too.

Depending on what you believe, he may or may not be listening,

but I am.

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.