Communication Roadblock

Lately, I have been struggling with my ability to communicate. More specifically, I have recently hit a tipping point regarding a very unhealthy communication pattern in which I have engaged for some time with someone close to me. My hope over the past couple of years, is that the situation would work itself out and that the “right” manner of proceeding would present itself to me soon enough. Well, it has not.

Although, since I am close to earning my master’s degree in communication, perhaps I am mere months away from figuring it out. Perhaps when my studies are completed, I will just KNOW. I hope so. In any case, with the amount of time I spend analyzing and considering the ways I communicate with people in my life, it is no wonder that I have pursued this course of study. Ironically, to feel like I am on the brink of “mastering” it seems a bit far-fetched, as I feel I am quite a work-in-progress yet. And never do I feel more of a lump of unformed clay than when I consider the communication patterns in my personal relationships.

The issue is that I found myself struggling to speak frankly because I felt like I would be hurting the other person by doing so. Essentially, while I was not seeking to be unkind or insensitive, I felt that if she were privy to my true feelings, such information would be considerably upsetting to her. Even though I am well aware that I am not responsible for another person’s happiness, or for how another person may or may not interpret a message, I could not help feeling apprehensive at the thought of potentially causing sadness or unease in another person—particularly someone about whom I care a great deal.

When I relayed this situation to a different friend (the always remarkable Kristine), she astutely told me that I was attempting to take care of the other person’s feelings, and that by doing so, I was ultimately not doing anyone any favors. Moreover, it was a futile pursuit; the only person whose feelings I can take care of, are my own, and to imagine otherwise is delusional.

It is the same idea as what I have learned with regards to the idea of pitying someone . To pity someone is to essentially say that you do not believe that they have the capacity or internal resources to take care of themselves. You can feel sympathy or empathy for others—in fact such displays of care are essential to having authentic and fulfilling relationships with others—but pitying is a no-no. To pity is like saying someone is a lost cause, and no one is a lost cause. Therefore, no one ought to be pitied.

It is also a superiority thing. To say I am in a position to pity another suggests that I am better than another. And I am certainly not better than anyone because we are all the same. That is to say, we are all human beings doing the best we can with whatever it is that we have.

So back to my issue of this challenging communication predicament. In addition to trying to take care of the feelings of another (something I think many women, in particular, do) I was also assuming I knew what the other person was thinking. In other words, I was anticipating her reaction. This assumption was molding the way I was considering presenting my information. So basically I was shaping my side of the conversation in accordance with a response that I had yet to receive.

When you break it down in such a way, it seems completely asinine. How could I know what someone else is thinking, or how they will react to something? Even if I know the person very well, the fact remains that I could easily be totally off target.

And yet I do this sort of thing all the time. My intention is good: I want to avoid inflicting any emotional pain or duress, so I play out the imaginary conversation in my head and adapt my part of the script based on my imagined perception of the other person’s course of action. The reality is detrimental: let people decide what they want to decide, and stop thinking you know better than everyone already.

I mean really: what is wrong with me that I assume to know how another would react? As in, who do I think I am, anyway? Wow, Mags, step off the ego bus already--Destination Omniscience is just a mirage.

But then, especially when I have known someone quite well and for a long time, it is conceivable and tempting to think that maybe I would be right. But what if I were wrong? Well then, my friends, I have lost a valuable opportunity. And I have robbed another of one as well.

Much of my book talks about being authentic and speaking your truth. That fact, along with my current dilemma, makes me think of something that happened in my life a couple of years ago. At the time, I was faced with having to tell my boss something I was quite sure she would not want to hear. My assumption was that the result of our conversation would be that she could be considerably incensed with me. As I stressed about the looming conversation, I relayed my fear to my brother.

His reaction surprised me. He said simply: “There is no way she can be mad at you.”

Well , brother Bobo, I beg to differ, she is my boss and therefore has carte blanche to be mad at me whenever she so pleases.

But then he broke it down for me: “Maggie, all you are doing is saying what is true for you. No one can be mad or upset at you because they do not know what is true for you. Only YOU know that. If you withhold it or shape it to fit another’s image truth, then no one is working with what is real and the game is perpetuated.”

I am paraphrasing, but you get the gist.

So I remember this wise counsel from my brother as I consider the person with whom I am having difficulty now. Yet the stakes are undoubtedly higher. Consider the following: my boss was not someone who I felt an intrinsic connection, she was not someone with whom I had any history or for whom I had a great deal of respect or love. Not to discredit who she is, it was just simply the case that we were not going to have a life-long relationship. Certainly, I cared enough to preserve our day-to-day dealings, but that was about it. And even with that marginal sort of connection, I STILL had trouble not attempting to care for her feelings.

Now, take my current situation. I simply cannot imagine my life without this person in it, nor do I want to. I know the best chance we have is to weather a storm now, and to have faith that doing so will result in calmer seas ahead. Yet I do not know if I have the strength to actually say my truth. I am terrified that my words, however carefully and thoughtfully they are framed, will result in volatile catastrophe.

I am embarrassed to admit that my “handling” of the situation as of late is best marked by one word: avoidance. I have justified my silence by choosing to believe that an appropriate opportunity to speak my truth has simply not presented itself. But that is cowardly, and I know it to be so.

The impasse I have reached is detrimental and is even affecting my relationships with others. That fact alone is a huge red flag. The only way out of this dark tunnel is through. As I struggle with this situation, I wonder about how to best reconciling my cognitive understanding about the way human relationships work and my emotional trigger reaction--as they are often disconnected.

But the thing is that if I am to be a “master” of communication, and if I am going to write a book that proffers me as a guinea pig to just these sorts of life quandaries, then I have to take my own counsel. Oh boy...

Wish me luck.

Plagued By Indecision

Earlier today, I had a really marvelous conversation with my brilliant friend Kristine. The topic into which we delved was how many choices women have in life and how difficult it can be, at times, to wade through those endless possibilities to come up with the “right” selection for you at any given time.

The impetus for this conversation was a personal issue with which I have been grappling and pertains to the book I am writing. A challenge for me lately is that I seem to be writing up a storm (a good thing) but I have lost, or perhaps I have yet to find, the unifying thread that holds all my writing together as a unit. In other words, I feel I am standing around clutching innumerable limbs and branches when, ironically, I have no trunk.

Yes, I am without trunk. Thank goodness I am not an elephant or I would be in a real pickle.

In short, my book has lost its backbone due to all of these tangents I feel compelled to explore. My frustration du jour is that there are about five books I am writing at once, and I cannot seem to make a decision to stick with one over the others. Adding to the madness: just when I have decided on the exact path I would like to follow, boom! I am distracted by one of those darn intriguing window displays again, and in I go for a wander. Soon, I have turned down a new path altogether and I am at a loss for knowing from where I started and to where I wish to go.

All of this talk about choices in life really struck a chord during my talk with Kristine.

As women, we have innumerable choices in life. “Options” is certainly an operative word among women and women’s issues today. This situation is obviously indicative of the strides we have made as a gender and it is a circumstance deserving of ample appreciation. The fact that we have endless possibilities in terms of vocation, hobbies, parenting, and partnership is a fantastic representation of how far we have come over the past 50-odd years in terms of securing a place of equality amongst humanity. (Not that we do not have need for further evolvement, but that is a topic for another day).

However, all of this opportunity seems to have induced an unexpected issue: as a gender, we are plagued by indecision. Moreover, we can easily become paralyzed by the decision-making process. It seems to me that we are so aware of our endless options that we fear making the “wrong” decision and then living with the ensuing regret as a repercussion. We fear this possible outcome so intensely, that we often fail to make any decision at all. The irony is implicit: we have worked for all that we have available to us and yet we are stymied by the very thing we wanted—to the point that we are not even able to take advantage of it with regards to certain aspects of our lives.

As proof of this assertion, I offer an example involving a dear girlfriend of mine. Having long been someone to whom I turn when I am in need of guidance during a decision, this woman is a person of sound judgment, inherent kindness, and a solid sense of reality. She is a driven, independent woman and has followed a clear trajectory on her career path-something I admire a great deal. In short, she is amazing, and I love her.

She is also someone who, like virtually every woman in my life, has areas where her own inability to make solid decisions frustrates the heck out of her. One of those areas pertains to where she wants to live, another to her romantic relationships. And another involves restaurants.

My friend regularly works herself up into a state of panic every time we are ordering in a restaurant. This anxiety is triggered because she is so worried about selecting the “wrong” item from the menu and then having to endure the miserable and inevitable subsequent feelings of “food envy.”

Interestingly enough, this disappointment sets in preemptively--before the food even arrives. In fact, it often occurs before she even places her order. One time she started to chase down a waitress, telling the third girlfriend at our table: “I wish I got what you got. I am going to tell the server.” Only to be told in response, “But you hate curry, and I ordered Thai curry.” “I know,” she lamented, “but I still think I want it.” She reluctantly sat down, already visibly disappointed and filled with regret as she waited for her burger.

It might be interesting for you to know that she had been talking about her cravings for a burger before we even arrived at the restaurant. Incidentally, I think we selected that very restaurant BECAUSE of her wanting that very burger.

But then, faced with myriad decisions, she lost touch with what she instinctually and intuitively wanted. Suddenly, because there were just so many options, how on earth could she ever know what would be the “right” one or the “best” one. With all those choices the likelihood of choosing "wrong," mathematically speaking, seems pretty high. And then, even if she did enjoy the burger ultimately (I think she did), there was an awful lot of her emotional energy expended and her time wasted as she hesitated with her decision.

And this is all over a burger!

So this story may sound trite and/or silly, but I believe this ordering at the restaurant thing is indicative of a larger issue. I believe that we all worry about the potential for “food envy” and regret when we make many of our decisions, from the large ones to the small ones. I believe this circumstance challenges every modern woman in some facet of her life—if not in several.

Consider that on a given day, I have conversations with women in my life about whether or not they want to divorce their husbands, move in with their boyfriends, or choose to never marry at all. We wonder whether we will have children of our own, adopt children, or go childless. We wonder if we should leave our job, go back to school, run a marathon, or take up painting. We wonder if we should spend a vacation in Mexico, Maui ,or mom’s house. Then, if we choose Mexico, we wonder if we ought to do charity work or sip margaritas or learn to salsa. We wonder if ought to go the grocery store or go to yoga.

And then--whether we decide to adopt a parrot, a puppy or a child--the decision is barely out of our mouth when the lamentations for what we did not choose sets in. Anticipation of that regrettable feeling that we all know so well has a paralyzing effect as we make our decisions.

But the truth is this: there are always going to be many, many options. And that is a good thing, right? So what then?

Well, I feel like what most of us wind up doing is going home, flipping on the television, slipping into a Snuggie and forgetting the issue with a glass of wine and a brownie.

Until tomorrow when the questioning starts all over again.

Or maybe that is just me. Snuggie excluded.

Let me be clear here in saying that I do not think we possess a “grass is always greener” complex or that we are delusional about our expectations for life. I think we just hold ourselves to incredibly high standards. After all, we are able to make sound, competent and “successful” decisions in most facets of our life. Why then, does there always seem to be a couple of areas where we reach the threshold of the decision making door and we become frozen in place?

What do you think?

Asleep at the Wheel

While I was writing yesterday, I was sitting cross-legged in a chair and my leg fell asleep. My impressive detective skills indicate that the main reason it fell asleep is that the smaller of my two dogs, Bruce, decided he had to sit in my lap while I typed away. Consequently, I did not move my leg in a good forty-five minutes because I did not want to disturb his nap.

This admission may sound sweet and generous, but it is actually indicative my own special brand of craziness. For one thing, Bruce sleeps about 20 of the 24 hours that comprise the day, so disturbing this brief nap really would not have adversely affected him. That being said, not only does Bruce sleep excessively, but he is also like my friend Dr. Gray in that he can sleep anytime, anywhere, for any amount of time. A remarkable quality when you think about it--and a great one for both an ER doctor and a dog. My point is that I could have moved my leg sixteen times and Bruce likely would not have budged from his slumber.

So in my non-sensical efforts to assist my dog with obtaining quality sleep, my own leg falls asleep. It then becomes time to remove Bruce from my lap so that we can go for a walk. The walk, mind you, was not Bruce’s idea as he still had about 14 hours to go to catch up on his daily rest.

I stretched my leg out to stand up and subsequently felt the most debilitating crazy pains for what had to be about five minutes. As Bruce snorted and snuffed to advertise his disgruntled state, I collapsed on the floor in pain. Suffice it to say, it was a rude awakening all around.

The reason I bring this somewhat unremarkable story up is that it inspired a thought: how was it that I did not know that my leg had fallen asleep? Then as it was in its “sleeping” state, I continued on, unawares. It was only when I changed my position and actually moved that I realized just how intently my leg was “sleeping.” I mean it had to have been pretty far gone into la la land for me to be falling down from the pain as it woke itself up.

And then I thought: this is a perfect analogy for life. I think we are all asleep for many, many aspects of our individual lives. We do not even notice that the situation is wrong or uncomfortable or has adverse affects because we have a little dog in our lap.

Just kidding.

Well sort of. Obviously, we do not all literally have little dogs in our laps. Although little dogs are awfully trendy these days, so maybe a lot of us do. But the point is that figuratively, we all do have something in our lap--or in our life--that we are afraid of jostling, of shaking awake, or disturbing. We stop moving in one or more aspects of our life in order to adjust to that other entity and, as a result, some part of us falls asleep.

Think about it: there are probably components of your life that have stopped evolving because of some sort of pressure you have felt. Maybe that pressure was induced by your own self, maybe by a boss, a colleague, a partner, or a family member. We all have unrealized dreams, untapped passions, underutilized skills. And why? Often because we have thwarted those facets of ourselves due to someone else’s opinion on the matter or our own feelings of inadequacy—maybe you stopped painting because an instructor said you were not good enough, perhaps you gave up the idea of being a parent because you are not married or your partner is not interested, or you could be remaining in a career you feel apathetic towards because you feel pressure from your parents, or from your family. The list goes on and on, in matters big and small.

And then, after a while, you are not even aware that an integral part of you has, essentially, fallen asleep. How bizarre that you probably do not even realize it—just as when a physical limb of ours falls asleep we are often unaware.

Then it is only when something jolts us out of our sonambulatory state that we experience this tingling, stinging, and sharp shooting pains as we move from one position to the next.

Well, eureka! It is no wonder that transition is so difficult for people. Since transition often involves waking up a dormant and powerful part of our psyche, there is an inevitable period of pain before you feel wholly mobile and fully functioning again.

What really strikes me about this analogy is that we are often not even fully aware of the patterns and habits we cultivate in our lives, of the various ways in which we might be sleeping. And the further we fall into that slumber, the harder it is to awaken, the more painful the transition.

The idea ties very much into what I have been trying to cultivate in my own life: being present, being aware. If we can be in the moment and notice that which is going on within our own minds and bodies, we have the opportunity to nip things in the bud. We can notice that first tingling sensation as some vital aspect of our livelihood starts to fall asleep from being underutilized and stagnant for so long. We can embrace it and exercise it right then rather than allowing it to fall into la la land and later having to traverse the painful passages to “wake it up.”

And of course, this whole situation also illustrates how important it is to figure out what aspects have perhaps already fallen into a deep slumber and to now re-awaken them, even though the process will likely be a bit difficult.

The biggest surprise of my day is that Bruce's (undiagnosed) narcoleptic condition would inspire such grand ideas.

Still the Same

As is likely implicit if you have been reading my blog entries, I have been trying to be more present in my life lately. The hope through this endeavor is that if I am actually paying attention to the "now", to the world as it is unfolding around me, then I will cease being perpetually mentally consumed by the cacophonous nonsense that runs on a fast-forward reel in my mind. As a bonus, it might also be the case that all of this stress-inducing drivel that I create in my own head will be thwarted by that which is real.

We can only hope.

On a larger scale, the idea as I understand it is that if we are able to pay attention to the now, then all of the answers we seek will present themselves to us in one form or another. Perhaps a key to peace is to strip away all the "other" and, as a book I was recently reading indicated, accept that "whatever is, is."

So I was in Boston this past weekend, and my lovely friend Kristyn and I were at the huge Barnes and Noble store in the Prudential on Sunday morning. We were having coffee and reading books about astrology and how your sign and birthday affect who you are and why you do what you do, and so on. I do not want to speak for Kristyn, but I devour these types of books with the same enthusiasm as I do ice cream.

However, based on our history of visiting psychics together, overanalyzing ourselves and everyone in our lives, and the fact that we may have partaken in a similar book-reading activity in the past, I suspect she shares my affinity.

And I do not think we are all that unusual (at least not in this regard). There is just something very comforting about reading an assessment of your personality, characteristics, and idiosyncrasies from a third party. That the third party proposes to be an expert on tides and moons just makes it all the better—in way that is both mystical and scientific all at once.

It is just sort of nice to believe that you have no real responsibility for who you are on a base level—that there was some higher form, or combination of forms—that played the active role in shaping your particular mound of clay. Armed with that knowledge, I think it is easier to forgive yourself and to then take the responsibility to change or adapt your more challenging qualities into ones that are more evolved or appealing.

Anyway, on the way out of the store, Kristyn went to buy a few items and I wandered over to one of those display tables they line up in the middle of the aisles in what I perceive to be a highly lucrative passive-aggressive sales pitch. When I browse in bookstores, I have historically found myself attracted to fiction works focused on the complexities of dysfunctional human relationships or to biographies . . . focused on the complexities of dysfunctional human relationships. However, since I seem to be experiencing this weird public spiritual coming out party, it is probably no surprise that I was smack in front of the theology table in no time flat.

I picked up this new book, or what I assume to be a new book since it was in hard cover, and I believe it was entitled Conversations with God. Huh.

So I read the back cover, and I was amazed. Part of the blurb contained the suggestion that if you ask a question (presumably to God, but I am not quite ready for that, so let us say to the universe in general), then you will unequivocally receive an answer. The answer may be in the form of a song lyric, a conversational tidbit, a gust of wind, a particular sighting in nature.

I feel compelled to reveal that my brother has been dispensing similar advice to me for some time. He loves to find meaning in song lyrics, license plate numbers, road signs, and a whole slew of other seemingly random places. I used to fear that he would be one of those people to find the profile of Jesus in one of his protein bars and would abandon civilization in favor of some sort of Siddhartha-esque pilgrimage, and subsequently be exploited by the Oprah conglomerate.

He has not, for the record.
And now, what he had been saying to me resonated on a personal level.

Kristyn and I had been talking all weekend about the concept of “staying in the question” and the challenges inherent because of the not knowing aspect of how or when the answer would come. In the same way it was comforting to read an astrology book to learn that who you are fundamentally was shaped by the tides and moons, it is also nice to know that the answers to problems that could shape your future path might be found in the natural world and not have to be conjured forth from the depth of your wild and crazy mind.

Well, I speak for myself there. You may not have a wild and crazy mind.

Likely story.

So moving forward, I returned from this weekend in Boston, and I was feeling really overwhelmed. For one thing, it was a terrifically emotional weekend. I saw many close friends because the impetus for the trip was to attend a memorial service for the dad of one of my dear friends. For another thing, I feel so connected to many of my friends still in Massachusetts that to have to leave after such a short reconnection left me feeling somewhat off-kilter.

Then I came home to Charleston and my life suddenly felt very out of control. My husband, who has been traveling for work, found out that he will have to travel some more--making us both a bit sad and stressed out. My work and school schedule suddenly felt as though I had bit off way more than I could chew. I panicked that I would have to abandon my book and my blog because I would not have time for these “hobbies” anymore.

I felt like life was happening to me and I had no control or say. Talk about repeating an old pattern.

So I went to bed and asked the universe to tell me why I was feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out. Well ask and ye shall receive people.

At 3:30 in the morning, Craig’s alarm clock inexplicably went off (it was set for 5:30). I have to interject myself here and say that thank goodness he sets it to the radio as opposed to that discombobulating beeping noise that makes you want to shoot yourself in the foot. Anyway, the song playing was Bob Seger’s, Still the Same.

Now I do not know if you know anything about me and my history with Bob Seger, but I love the guy. Because he has unwittingly seen me through many of life's pivotal moments, I trust him. And now you might think, “Isn’t that song about a gambler who cannot seem to change his/her wily ways?” Well yes, that is my interpretation also. So how does that have to do with me or the answer to my question?

Here is how: I am still the same. I may know now that I have to change my ways of thinking, of being in the world. I may cognitively understand as fact that to be present is a way to quiet my mind and achieve some peace. Yet, imagine what it must take to undo years and years of listening to the reel in my mind. A few months or weeks or years of trying to change may not be enough. So why am I still overwhelmed and stressed by life in general? Because, as hard as I am working to change my patterns, I have not gotten there yet. I am still the same.

You may now officially declare me bonkers. But just know that if my brother and I pass you on the trails during our inevitable trip to Machu Picchu, then I will call you out on your judgment.

Lucky Ducks

A concept that has been on my mind a lot lately is the idea of luck. I wonder: is there any such thing?

I used to believe, unequivocally, that luck was very much in existence. And there are times, certainly that I have felt “lucky,” or “unlucky.” The struggle I am having with branding life situations as such is that it takes much of the responsibility away from the individual and places it on the universe in general. It seems to me to be an apathetic way to live if you choose not to examine how or why the sun is shining on you in a particular moment and dark clouds loom directly over your head in others. Yes, you could just shrug and say “I am lucky today,” or “I am unlucky right now.” But are you really at the mercy of an inexplicable or unknown entity during such times?

The point is that I do not think life is at all arbitrary.

In case you have not noticed, formerly held convictions are becoming undone on a lot of fronts for me lately. Luck happens to be one of the spools currently unraveling.

While this circumstance may superficially seem pessimistic, it is actually the opposite. At least, I do not like the idea of sitting idly and hoping for luck to shine on me. Such a stance illustrates a mindset that I have no role in my luck whatsoever. I like the idea, much more, of having control over my own life—to the point where I can make my own luck.

Am I on glue, or does that not sound much better?

Louis Pasteur said, “Chance favors the prepared mind.” I am staring to understand that if you believe you will be lucky, you will be. Conversely, if you believe you will be unlucky, so too will that be your fate. But you also have to do your part in terms of action, that is to say, it is not enough to simply believe.

So there is another component and that is that you have to be ready to embrace luck so that you can maximize the benefits. You have to be in a particular mindset and you have to make the provisions so that luck can easily meld into your life. When you are ready to greet luck at any given time, then you are also in a position to capitalize on it.

To give a personal example: take the book I am writing. I do not have an agent. I do not know anyone in publishing who has an “in.” I do not know anyone to whom I could phone in a favor. I do not have those things.

Rather, I do not have those things today.

It is entirely possible that tomorrow (or this afternoon, or next week) I could meet someone who is the exact person to facilitate my work. But I have to be prepared for that encounter.

If I choose to sit around lamenting my misfortune at my lack of connections, and to see the books being published right and left that I assess as being poorly written and unoriginal (which I do, by the way-still working on letting go of judgments), I might say, “I am unlucky, and those people are just lucky. How else can I explain this situation? Oh well.” But such a course of (non)action would be unproductive, and draining.

Although, and here is where my perspective may ruffle some feathers: such an attitude would also provide me with a convenient “out,” in terms of not taking responsibility for myself.

It would be far easier to say I am unlucky than it would be to do the work to create my own luck. And I think that is a mindset a lot of people unfortunately choose to adopt.

Yet I would argue that the people whom we view as lucky in our lives probably logged a lot of time on the back end—we just did not see the “before” shot and therefore can opt to believe it never occurred, that these people are somehow blessed, have it easier, are “luckier” than the rest of us.

But are they? I say no. I am choosing, instead, to believe that they learned the lesson I am learning now, and created their own luck.

So back to my personal example: when I might meet the (as yet mythical), person who will help me with the publishing of my book, I will obviously take his or her card. Even so, the card will be of little use to me if I have not set my life up to be prepared for this encounter.

If I was just sitting around with a dream of writing a book, but no proposal, no sample chapters, no fleshed out CONCEPT, then when I finally pulled all my material together to feel satisfied with it enough to show this person, then he/she may have left the company, or may not remember meeting me, or a whole host of other reasons may no longer prove to be in a position to expedite my process. Chance favored me, but I was not prepared. So, dang . . . what am I now? Unlucky, right?

On the other hand, if I am prepared for the encounter, I will take the card. I will go home and in an hour or two have a reasonable document to give to this person. He/she will remember me, as I am fresh in mind. Voila! I am on my way to being a published author due to this chance encounter. Pretty lucky, right?

Now, maybe my writing my book and drafting a proposal for no one seems futile. But the truth is that I am writing for someone, I just have yet to meet that person. I am preparing myself mentally and physically to embrace “luck.”

With regards to luck in general, and not how it pertains to me specifically, I know as human beings disappointments and hurdles are an inevitable aspect of this fun little game we call life. There are times when the odds seem to be particularly stacked against us, when we feel that life is unfair or that we are supremely “unlucky.”

I also know of the human propensity to compare. We see someone else living a life we wish we had and we dub them “lucky.” We see another person whose life seems to be defined by tragedies and misfortunes and we brand them “unlucky.”

But we are not walking in other people’s shoes. We have no idea how hard that “lucky” person worked for what seems to come to them effortlessly. We have no idea of the valuable lessons inherent in the tragedies that befall the “unlucky”—lessons that may make someone look at that very person in the future and marvel at his/her amazing luck. We have no idea what someone else's path is, so try to stop comparing and focus on YOUR path.

So what am I really saying? Do not allow yourself to be a pawn in your own life. You create your own reality, so go create a “lucky” one. I am certainly going to do the same.

“I had therefore to remove knowledge in order to make room for belief”—Immanuel Kant.

Today is an interesting day for me and for my family. It is my brother's birthday, for one thing. For another, my dad died exactly ten years ago today.

I wanted to do something to honor my dad, so I took one of my dogs, Freya, to the beach with me to perform a sort of prayer ritual. Since I have never actually performed any kind of prayer ritual, I felt compelled to bring a non-judgmental third party along; Freya very much fit the bill.

It was beautifully day--sunny and clear, but also way colder than South Carolina has any business being. Still, the cold was helpful because the beach was relatively deserted. Freya liked that fact because socializing is not her bag particularly. I liked it because it meant I could experiment with the prayer ritual without an audience.

We/I wrote my dad a message in the sand and christened it by running around it 12-15 times and singing.

Yes, I felt a little like Betty White's character in The Proposal, only with much less festive attire.

I have to say, it felt very refreshing and liberating.

Now, you may or may not be interested to know that this whole shabang was slightly out of character. For one thing, I have not historically been what anyone could deem "religious." I am very much still working out my feelings about religion. On my Facebook page, there is a question about religious beliefs, next to which I at one point wrote: “Hmmm…” As I stay in this question (been here for a while, let me tell you), I have been tempted to join a rather alluring sect about which a friend of mine recently told me: “the practicing skeptics.”

Although I suppose I have been an unofficial member of that club for some time now.

Lately, however, I have been reading more sprituality-driven books. Interestingly enough, the majority of the books on this topic that I have are not ones I bought for myself but ones that others have given to me as gifts or "suggested reading." The universe is telling me something, perhaps?

So maybe it is the books, maybe it is the yoga I have been doing for the past several months, maybe it is the fact that my brother, a spiritual life coach, has been visiting or that my friend Whitney solicited me to start a book club with her based on finding your spiritual path.


Or maybe it is the full moon or the oddly high volume of beets I have been eating lately. Who knows, really.

Whatever it is, it seems that I have been absorbing spiritual messages with a far more open minded and natural curiosity than ever before. This turn of events is is both unexpected and new for me.

I used to run from talk of spirituality or religion the way those people in Spain run from the bulls. And, not to get off topic, but that is another scenario that just screams "HELMET!" to me.

In short, I spent a long time refusing to believe in much of anything because I did not want to be disappointed. My left brain and my right brain wage a war on virtually any and all topics, and religion is quite often caught in the tug of war.


And generally, I am not a science-minded gal. But neat and tidy explanations for the vast well of possibility on which religion pontificates is quite appealing to me. Maybe in the same way that death frightens me, religion frightens me because there is always going to be a number of unequivocally unknown factors involved.

Also, as someone who feels irritated whenever I am called to defend my political stance, I feel it would be equally frustrating to have to defend a religious one—more so because the so-called facts are less concrete. But, as Kant so eloquently inferred, maybe there are times when knowledge crowds the space to the point of eliminating other possibilities.

And maybe religion is not what you know, but what you feel.

Today, on the beach, I felt free and yet connected at the same time. It was a good feeling.

So I do not know what this all means for me in terms of my beliefs or future plans to explore religion and sprituality, but I do know that dancing and singing on the beach alone is fun. And next time I might take a page from Betty White's book and wear a costume.