Growth Spurts

May 22, 2013 at 10:31 am (Health, Inspiration, Mental Health, Relationship, Spirituality, The Writing Life, Uncategorized)
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I was acutely aware of my growth spurts as a kid because they usually involved pain.

In my younger years, I’d often wake up in the middle of the night crying from the bone-deep aches in my legs, soothed only by hot compresses and gentle pressure (thanks, Mom).

In high school, I was sidelined from my greatest love (basketball) for a couple weeks because the pain in my legs kept me from running.  The culprit?  Microscopic fractures in the bone, said the doctor, from growing too fast.  Apparently my body needed time to catch up to itself.  (No wonder they called me “gumby”).

Eventually my physical growth evened out (thank God) but I’ve noticed something has taken its place: emotional and spiritual growth spurts. Just like the physical ones, sometimes they hurt like hell.  And sometimes they sideline me, leaving me weak and vulnerable, tiptoeing around inside myself until I can put emotional weight back on my heart and soul.

Like right now, as I’m writing a book that includes personal vignettes, and it’s turning me inside out.

And I’m re-defining “healthy” in my most important relationships, and it’s crumbling the mortar in some of my protective self-awareness walls.

And I’m re-shaping my understanding of God, worship, and the divine in myself, and it’s making little cracks in my foundation.

I used to think a vague foggy feeling was an indication of depression coming on, or that a scale heavy on the side of questions + light on answers was disheartening proof of previous learning and growth that “didn’t take.”

Turns out it’s usually just growth spurts: cracks, fissures, and joints beautifully weakened to allow a fuller expansion of my inner growth.

Turns out it’s just an internal request for a pause to allow my inner goo to gain strength — so it can solidify into a more firmly developed version of myself.

So the next time you’re in the throes of emotional or spiritual growth spurt pain, request hot compresses and a gentle, comforting pressure (you know the compression shirts that provide dogs comfort during thunderstorms? yeah, pressure like that), and know that the healing has already begun.

And you? When will you begin that long journey into yourself? ~ Rumi

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One touch

November 15, 2012 at 11:57 am (Health, Inspiration, Spirituality, Uncategorized)
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I’ve been thinking a lot about Trainer recently…

Usually, I admit, it’s thinking “oh thank God she’s not here!” when I’m at the gym and stop a couple lunges before the workout makes me cry.  But aside from that, I’ve been thinking about her touch.  No, no, not like THAT… for heaven’s sake, let me explain.

Ok, so I’d be doing squat #9,228, for example, and oddly enough, my form would waver ever so slightly.  Or rep #17,581 with that shoulder squeezy torture thing.  Or the 4 millionth (no of course I’m not exaggerating) bench press with pray-to-the-gods-this-doesn’t-paralyze-me-for-life-heavy weights.

Just as my mind would leave the building to try to find its happy place, I’d feel Trainer’s touch — the barest pressure of a fingertip placed in the absolute center of my shoulder blades, or breastbone, or ab “muscle” (still working on that) … with the instruction to “squeeze HERE,”  or “start from HERE” or just silence as my body would automatically adjust a micro-fraction to the perfect alignment for the exercise.

That one tiny touch helped keep me from injury.

That one tiny touch helped strengthen me in all the right places.

And that one tiny touch showed me that Trainer was paying exquisite attention, totally engaged, and absolutely part of my every movement (not to mention how ridiculously experienced, skilled, and effective she is as a trainer, my God!).

The smallest signs of support can change everything.

Like my photographer friend this morning who out of the blue said “If you have [gay] friends journeying to MD next year to tie the knot, please, please, please send them my way.  I would be so honored to take part in that!”  (see her work here — freakin’ amazing!).

Like my wife putting her (cold) toe on my foot while we read in bed together at the close of the day.

Like gently holding your elderly mother’s elbow as you pace yourself to match her Parkinson-ravaged shuffle to the dining table.

Like asking “how are you?” and sticking around long enough to listen…fully… to the answer.

Like the kitty paw (oh come on, you knew I had to go there) that skootches up to rest against my hand as I type this post.

“There is some kiss we want with our whole lives,
the touch of spirit on the body.”
~ Rumi

May we each experience the profound power of that one tiny touch today.

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Healing old pain(s)

August 17, 2012 at 10:26 am (Health, Inspiration, Mental Health, Uncategorized)
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I tweaked the hell outta my shoulder a few days ago.

This happens from time to time, a flare-up of my “Impingement Syndrome” — a painful rotator cuff reminder of my grueling years as a landscaper slinging mulch bags and whatnot.

Stuff in my shoulder that’s supposed to move smoothly gets all scrapey and inflamed … and my shoulder, neck, and back muscles on that one side ache and complain and get all bunched up into a quite painful mess of knots.

As my dear sweet wife (Hi, Toonces!) said to me this morning as I turned my entire body to look at her, “Honey, you’re falling apart!!!” Sigh.

My initial care plan was to pretend there was nothing wrong with my shoulder. Go to the gym as usual — keep that shoulder moving to loosen everything up, try to ignore the shooting pain when lifting my arm… or putting it down… or moving my head… or just sitting there doing nothing.

Day 2: Roll over in bed to turn off alarm and gasp in pain. Decide to try different care tactic: try not to move the shoulder at all. Pin that elbow (figuratively!) to my side and conduct all shoulder shifts as an entire right-side movement. Try to ignore the deep ache throughout shoulder joint and surrounding muscles. Think constantly about the muscles on that cadaver I dissected in college, picturing each striation of muscle running down my back and thinking about the irony of having a painful trapezius when the last thing I could do right now is hang from a trapeze…. because of that damn trapezius muscle.

Day 3: Roll over in bed to turn off alarm and gasp in pain. Decide to try different care tactic: Work with the pain (not against it). Take it easy on the arms at the gym and pick on the legs instead. Make all head and shoulder movements carefully, gently. Vary shoulder position when typing. Get a heating pack and melt the pain into submission. Sleep on the other side. Remind myself to sit up before rolling over to turn off the alarm in the morning.

And here we are, day 4 – shoulder smiles in between the aches. Range of movement has improved. Fresh scone and Americano at the coffee shop easily sweep away remaining awareness of pain. Healing has indeed begun.

That’s how it works with emotional injuries too.

Old wounds get tweaked into present pain, and our feelings get all scrapey and inflamed.

We pretend nothing’s wrong, powering through the emotional gunk that’s risen to the surface. We put our fingers in our ears, squeeze our eyes tightly shut, and wishfully proclaim “I can’t seeeeeee you!”

And the heart pain mounts.

So we decide simply not to use our feelings … at ALL. We attempt to go numb by over-eating, over-TV-ing, over-drinking, over-this-that-or-the-other-ing.

And the heart pain mounts.

So we decide to work with the pain. We look it in the eye, take a deep breath, and tell it “I’m listening – what do you need?” We spend time with it, we honor it, we give it an attention time limit, lovingly melt it into submission, and we begin (again) to heal.

Oh, it will likely come back — most deep wounds need several rounds of resurfacing to build their layers of healing — but for today, for this present moment, we heal.

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Guidance from the Coffee Shop

June 8, 2012 at 12:37 pm (Health, Inspiration, Spirituality)
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The Guidance is always there … if you’re just willing to notice it and give it meaning. 

I’ve been working on my fear of energetic depletion — focusing instead  on the idea of not holding back, of trusting my capacity to refill and recover.  It’s an insidious side-effect, I believe, of having several times experienced the state of almost-nothingness we call Depression.  What if *this* time my reserves aren’t enough?  What if near the bottom of my energy tank that life-sucking depressive inertia is waiting?

On some days it just ’bout scares the pants off me.

I’m noticing, however, that stronger than the fear is my curiosity — and determination — to know what I can really do if I commit fully to each moment and to each plan and to each goal I make.  

I’m not a driven person (stop laughing, you who know me well!).  But I’m discovering that I do have a drive — a deep desire to somehow help others (and myself) get more and more and more in touch with their innate Possibilities… to learn everything I possibly can about Creativity and how it ties in with every positive and life-affirming step we take (and don’t take)…. to make the concept of spirituality palatable again (and oh so accessible) to those whose spirit fires may have been doused in the past.

Oh yes, I have that drive… and I SO don’t want to live half-a**ed.

But how can I know that “giving my all” won’t toss me into that paralyzing void of Depression? 

I can’t.

I somehow just have to believe.

Looking for Guidance in the bottom of my coffee glass

Like this morning at the coffee shop, when my new buddy Eugene showed up and outta the blue started telling me about his weekend adventure — a grueling physical challenge led by special services military guys.

And about how it takes everything you can possibly find within you to complete this thing… and you realize time and time again how you still somehow have enough left to keep going.

And then the kicker:

“I don’t want to live a mediocre life,” he says with his eyes fiery and goosebumps on his arms (he pointed them out to me). “I want to give it my all.” 

Um, ok Universe.  I’m listening.

Yes, the Guidance is always there … if you’re just willing to notice it and give it meaning. 

What are your doubt spots today?  What evidence can you find around you — right here, right now — that suggests you CAN do that thing… you CAN have that something-or-another… you CAN be, feel, experience, [you name it] that thing you’re just beginning to believe?

The Guidance is always there … if you’re just willing to notice it and give it meaning. 

[and just before hitting "publish" on this post?  In comes an email from Marci Shimoff, entitled "Run towards what you're afraid of."  Ok.  oKAY!]

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A Place to Call hOMe

September 27, 2011 at 11:09 am (Health, Inspiration, Spirituality, The Artist Life, The Writing Life, Uncategorized)
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I’m in month FOREVER of being between homes. 

I sorta have two homes, sorta have none.  One is under contract (selling) in VA and the other a lease in PA that doesn’t start for another 5 days.  Oh, and after that 12 month lease, we’re expecting to move again to a home more permanent.

The VA home we are currently “living” in is slowly fading as we remove the signs of us – wall hangings, furniture, clothing, and eventually our physical selves and our furry felines.  Yet we don’t even have a key for the PA home yet.

I’m realizing that my internal and external landscapes are so intertwined that without a solid physical “settling space” I can easily get… well… unsettled.  And without a place to build the external representation of my internal environment, my heart quickly threatens to build itself emotional walls of concrete protection.   

As part of me gleefully envisions the new artful urban loft space above a vibrant plaza area, another part of me pretends I’m not weeping inside with each piece of art I remove from our current home walls.

It’s that weeping part that needs a place to call hOMe.  A place that allows me to experience the richness of this transition time with my heart wide open, my heart walls down, so I don’t miss one beautiful, scary, painful, delicious beat. 

I recently wrote this in an email to my biz/life coach, my AHA moment that day after my morning meditation time:

“The real risk of living with one’s heart wide open is not in the potential pain of experiencing emotions against the tenderness of a vulnerable heart … the real risk is in not having a healing station available at all times for your heart.  OM is that healing station.”

Transition times like this are the most creative opportunities of our lives.  And the most vulnerable.  Which amplifies the beauty — and risk — of a wide-open heart.  Which elevates the need for a healing station…which, for me, is a place I call OM.

OM being something I don’t really intellectually understand, yet I spiritually feel what they mean about OM being a sound/vibration connecting us all to each other and to the greater Wisdom of the Universe (God, Self, all those capital-letter spiritual things).

OM being the sound/place that burns off anger, as it’s emotionally impossible (for me, at least), to speak the sound of OM without my built-up heart walls melting.

OM being the quiet time we spend with ourselves, honoring ourselves with the rare chance to experience the depth of life from the inside out.

OM being the place that is always available to us, part of us, with us.

We ALL have an internal place we can call hOMe — whether we meditate, pray, have some other distinctly spiritual practice… or not.  We all have a place, if we just take the time (and discipline) to look, that releases us to our internal healing stations.

What is the place YOU call hOMe?   It’s there, you know — always — within you, waiting for you to show up and settle in.   No mortgage payments, no rent, no worn shingles to replace, no dusty HVAC system to clean.  Just OM sweet hOMe.

Go there...

*****
Resources:
Meditation for the Love of It, book by Sally Kempton
Emmanuael’s Book book compiled by Pat Rodegast, Judith Stanton
MySpace.OM, blog by Peg Mulqueen
NonaJordan.com, blog by Nona Jordan

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Break Free

May 22, 2011 at 3:21 pm (Health, Inspiration, Uncategorized)
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You never know what’s stuck in your biceps.

I’ve known all week that something was brewing.  Restlessness kept chewing away my inspiration, little emotional bite marks scattered through each day.

I’d sit down each morning to meditate, willing myself to release *whatever* was going on.  Got some things bubbling up towards the surface, but not accessible enough to skim the scum off.

Even writing didn’t clear my gunk.

I tried to space myself out, write myself out, think my way out … all to no avail.  Still sloshing around in the mire.

Until Trainer pushed me to work my biceps to fatigue Friday morning.  With the last omg-are-you-freakin’-KIDDING-ME?!? pull of the damn exercise bands, my mind let go and the tears came through.  Suddenly.  Insistently.  Beautifully.  (dear Trainer’s response? A gentle “Ah… it’s been awhile.”  God bless that woman!).

Apparently I had all kinds of stuff stuck in my biceps.   Grief.  Fear. Doubt. Resistance. Self-sabatoge.  All those lovely things that show up when you most need the forward momentum.   

That mind-heart-body connection?  Oh, It. Is. REAL.  

Sometimes it takes a physical effort to let the emotions break free and loosen their grip.

Sometimes it takes literal physical movement to allow emotional movement.

Sometimes, apparently, all the stuckness is bunched up in our biceps.

So next time you’re stuck — emotionally, mentally, intellectually, spiritually – next time you’re stuck, get moving.   Literally.  

Give yourself a chance to break free.

*Note: Trainer not required (although recommended).  Stand up. Dance. Take a walk. Or work out til you’ve got nothing left.  Whatever your body allows.  Just move.

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You Stay Where You Stop

October 27, 2010 at 5:32 pm (Health)
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Whose stupid idea was it anyway?

Hiring a personal trainer, that is.

The numbers aren’t good:

A total of 6 sessions so far, and we have:

  • 2 bloody noses (both mine)
  • 2 cryings (both mine)
  • 473 curse words (all mine)

Do the math. As I told you… it’s not good.

Yet I keep setting up the next appointment. And keep PAYING good money for this. And bleeding.  And crying.  And yes, cursing.

WTF (what the fudge)?!?!

It comes down to something trainer said today (as I was mopping up my tears from crying on the spin bike):  “You stay where you stop.”

whoa.

“You stay where you stop.”

If you stop just before it hurts, you will always stop just before it hurts.

If you stop right when it hurts, you will always stop right when it hurts.

And if you stop AFTER it hurts, after you’re beyond your comfort zone, after you’ve taken a step into OMG-I-Can’t-Possibly-Go-There-Land… you will always consider GOING THERE.

Afraid it’ll hurt too much to get in shape?  Go there.  Your body/mind/soul connection needs a chance to thrive.

Afraid you might fail if you take on a challenging work project?  Go there.  Your intellect and creativity need a chance to shine.

Afraid to look at your internal shadows?  Go there.  Dark stuff shrinks in the light of acknowlegement.

What’s *your* OMG I Can’t Go There Land?  I have a pair of round trip tickets (with bandages, tissues, and a curse-bleeper) waiting for you…

(click to enlarge)

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