Life Lessons on Letting Go: Staying Within Your Own Boat

This month, my boyfriend and I are beginning the downsizing of our entire home and moving it over 2,000 miles away. Several life lessons have been brought up for me recently about letting go, about the things we collect vs. the things we really need and of course about how home is more inside me than in any house or furnishings that decorate a house. This week, there are so many details to consider, and so many unknowns. I would like to take just one of those life lessons to extrapolate upon and share: Letting go.

One of my favorite stories of the Olympics comes from sportscaster Charlie Jones who interviewed the athletes of professional rowing teams before and after the competition. The questions he asked them ranged from: what do you do when the other team is pulling ahead of you, what do you do when you break an oar, or when the winds are howling gale force against you? To Charlie’s surprise, several of the athletes had the same response to different questions. They told him simply, “That’s outside of my boat.”

After receiving identical answers, Charlie asked a rower to explain what they meant by “that‘s outside of my boat.” The rowing team had been trained to diligently stay focused on the task at hand, to their immediate surroundings and to put their energy only on the things they could control - within their boats. They had realized that thinking about what was outside of their boat only distracted them from their goal, and “that which is beyond our control is not worth our time or energy.”

The professional rowers of the Olympics are not in the competition thinking about the choppiness of the water, or rather the crowd is watching or how fast the other team is or the varying rates on their home loan or if the cost of gas will go up in the middle of summer. Every ounce of their energy is honed into the present moment and each row stroke they are making. And does it work for them? As successful athletes, they won enough races and became fast enough to compete in the Olympics. You tell me.

This story made me think about my own life and how much I often worry about things that are outside of my boat. And I understand more and more that in order to feel effective in my life, I have to choose to spend my energy on things that I can control. Because I want things to go well for others, I often am giving advice or wondering the best way they should approach a problem. And yet, no matter how caring I am, I simply cannot row their boat when I am sitting in mine. I have no affect whatsoever on which direction their boat goes.

To me, following news stories is very much the same concept. If I get caught up in a horrible violent event that happened, and spend most of my spare time dwelling on how awful it was for the individuals and families involved, I am not watching where my own boat is headed, and the energy I may have had to plan where my journey might go next has already been spent. If we spend our lives in other’s stories, we end up half living their lives while not truly living our own. Worrying, dwelling and staying in the stories of others doesn’t really help them, and doesn’t solve anything for them. That’s an area where I am always going to feel helpless. So why go there?

I don’t watch the news because I choose to stay out of the drama of strangers, and because I don’t want that helpless feeling. (I also find it overwhelmingly negative and disturbing.) Instead, I save my time for my friends and family and the people in my community - the people I can really know, work well with and make a difference for. I can’t help captives, I can’t find missing people, but I can take the grocery cart back for the little old lady next to me in the parking lot. I can slow down on the road to let the person who has been waiting to turn have space in front of me. I can make the baby in the grocery line laugh, I can treat my friend to lunch and I can hug the regular customer in the café whose loneliness might border bitterness without touch. I can volunteer to help a friend move, or share my lunch with a hungry co-worker. There are so many ways for me to interact with my fellow rowers - the people in my little circle where I have the power to make a difference.

This story also made me reflect on how I am getting better at letting past events stay in the past where they belong. When I have a hard week at work, or when I have had a disagreement with others, my mind tends to return to that and go over the situation several times. Even when I have closure over it. When really, that uncomfortable situation is in the past, so why would I choose to make the present uncomfortable by rehashing it? And I am not aware of any kayaker, sailor or Olympic rowing team that could paddle forward while looking behind them. As a white water paddler, out on the river, the minute I look behind me in a rapid, its over. I stop going where I want to, stop moving forward altogether and usually loose control of my boat and end up wet. Using this analogy helps me see that thinking about the past really doesn’t help me move forward and that by doing so, I loose my control over the present moment.

 

I invite you to reflect on the “Its outside of my boat” concept as well. Are there areas in your life that you spend your time an energy outside of your boat - focusing on things that you cannot control? Are you familiar with the limits of your own boat, and how could you get more involved with the others in your community?

Charlie’s story of the Olympic Rowing Team is an inspiration to me to let go of trying to control things outside of my boat, to stay present, keep calm, keep moving forward and enjoy the experience.

   

Don't Worry (and You'll) Be Happy

I believe that worry is something that our society teaches us.  And within every concept we are taught is the ability to re-learn or unlearn it.  Worry is taught to be synomonous with caring about something. I feel that when someone worries about a situation, at the core of it, they want the situation to go well. The issue is of course, that they worry about how many ways the situation could go wrong because they want it to go well. It feels like an oxymoron to me.

Worry often has to do with the inability to accept uncertainty. We want to be absolutely certain about what is going to happen. But sometimes life surprises us. The interesting thing about uncertainty is that it could go either way - the likelihood of it turning out perfectly is just as possible as it turning out poorly. However, worrying about how many things could go wrong doesn’t make the situation more predictable. It ends up being hours of lost time in a negative mindset. And a negative mindset doesn’t help the situation at all, it sends negative energy towards the outcome. Focusing on the worst-case scenarios doesn’t keep you safe from bad things happening, it just takes you away from the good things happening in the present moment. An excellent mantra to help with this is: “I don’t know how it is going to turn out, I just know it is all going to work.”

This has come up lately because in the next two weeks I am going to board a plane by myself for the great wide open unknown.  A dear friend of mine recently hugged me and said “Don’t do anything that would make me go crazy, okay? I know you will be fine, but I worry about you.” Later she lay awake thinking about why the energy of what she had said didn’t feel right to her. I am delighted that we had a chance to talk it through the next morning.  I got that her worry was not creating a story of what might go wrong for me, but rather understood that in the core of her statement was the fact that she cared about me.

Is it possible to love someone and not worry about them when they take a big step into the unknown? What would the other options be? How about loving someone and supporting the best for them by thinking to yourself how it will go well for them, and thinking of all the ways it could turn out just right. This is the opposite of how we have been trained to think. And yet, the energy of it is so much more supportive.


My favorite metaphor for this is: Imagine you are sitting in a chair in a room and everyone you know and love are standing in front of you making eye contact. You see all of your family, your friends, your loved ones in this room. And they tell you just how worried they are about you. They are not sure about your decision. They are concerned for you. Their eyes are filled with worry and the room is heavy with the weight of doubt and anxiety. What an uncomfortable chair to be in! 

Now imagine the same situation. You are sitting in a chair in that same room, but this time all these people you know are telling you “You can do it!” and “I don’t know how this is going to turn out, but we believe in you. You can handle this.” and “I know you and I trust you will make the right choice.”  The energy in the room is completely different: positive, uplifting, loving.

We can give the people we love either the feeling of anxiety or of being supported when we think of them, and when we talk to them about their dreams, about the risks they are taking.
It is possible to separate love from worry. “I love you and support you.” feels completely different from “I am so worried about you.“ Consider this before responding.
Worry doesn’t accomplish anything other than making your heart and your mind sick. And it certainly isn’t supporting those we love when we are worrying about them.

The next time your response is worry, try playing the game of how many different ways it could go right instead. Don’t treat every negative thought as though it were a fact.

Uncertainty doesn’t automatically mean bad things will happen. Accept that uncertainty is part of life and remind yourself that it could always go better than you could even think of. Acknowledge that you have anxious thoughts, and that it is okay to let your worry go.

Instead of dwelling on possible futures, stay present in the moment and look for the things that there are to appreciate right now.

As for me, time to get out of that chair, get out of that room and get on a jet plane.

The Longest Hour of The Day - OR - How I Learned You Can Breathe Through Anything

Within each of us is the deep center of peace. No matter what happens, I trust that I am going to be okay. Even at times when I have been playing big in extreme sports and I get that this may be it, this may be my last moment, somehow instead of panic, I have a deep calm and I am fine with whatever comes. Even at times that I have been so very sad about an ending, and have cried it all out on the couch in front of some sappy chick flick, after the tears comes a sense of peace and I know I am going to be okay. This deep “okay-ness” this sense of clam and security is always there. Even through emotional, mental, physical turmoil, we can still connect to the calm center of our being and know we will be okay.
I went to a Hatha yoga class this morning at a studio I have never been to before. I squeezed my mat in between the tan tattoo girl and the guy in a tie-dye t-shirt facing a row of large windows with sheer red curtains. The teacher began with a theme about how it is possible to breathe through anything. Silently I agreed with her, yoga taught me that valuable lesson years ago. “With that in mind,” she said, “We are going to test the limits of what we can breathe through today with some intense core engaging poses.” My mind groaned. I may have chosen the wrong class. Oh well, I could breathe through it and how long could an hour and a half be anyway?
We started with Downward Dog, going into a balance pose on one leg and one arm. Then we drew the extended leg and arm in again and again, and yes, my core was engaged in a healthy tremble. There was a click and a rush of air. The room was very warm already, so I accepted this to be the sound of the air conditioner engaging and followed the class into a yoga pushup series. Then it became uncomfortably warm.
“I wonder,” said the instructor, “Did the heater just go on? I think it is 80 in here already. She left us in handstand and went out to see if she could turn off the heater. I breathed into my hands and shoulders. The heat was okay, the heat would be ending soon. The door clicked and our instructor walked by.
“Well, That’s odd. Apparently the heater is stuck on.” she said, casually dismissing it. “Oh, you can come down now.”
We moved into Frog pose. The temperature was uncomfortably warm and rising. A couple minutes into it, my thighs were screaming. I wanted out. But instead of backing out of the pose, I held my ground and breathed into the sensation. My mind teetered on the edge of panic partly because of the heat and mostly because my legs felt like they might rip off and be served with butter and garlic any minute.
Tie-dye tee guy was having trouble. Through his legs I could see the sweat drip off his nose and form a puddle. The heater was still on. A hot wind blew over both of us. The room felt very small. I took a deep inhale that ended in a sigh and remembered that this was only an hour. This was a very small portion of my life. And Frog pose had to only be another two minutes (I hoped!) of my life. Knowing that this moment, and this overwhelming sensation was just temporary brought me a sense of peace. The instructor took a deep breath in. I anticipated her releasing us from the agony. “Just another three minutes to go. You are doing great. Keep breathing through it”
Three minutes? My body feels like hell after just one minute and we have three minutes more to go? I might die! Death by scorched frog pose. That will be an interesting obituary to read: Girl dies of burnt frog legs.
I checked on Tie-dye guy. Yes, another minute and his lake of sweat would form a river. I hoped to God the yoga floor was not sloped and we would have no runaway rivers headed my way. I had better breathe into the pose now and enjoy breathing while I could, before I drowned in that river.
“Okay, gently use your hands to bring your legs back in.” My legs were so sore. I was surprised they didn’t creak as I drew them together. They weren’t going to speak to me for at least five minutes, if not days.
As we moved into Downward Dog and Plank, I considered asking the instructor to check the heater again. How could she be so causal about this? Oh well, the heater will just blare and bake us the entire class?! I regretted laying my stinky-feet-mat down next to that white grate. How did I miss that was a heating vent? My core was shaking like an earthquake in a tropical place. Another few degrees warmer and giant leaves might sprout from the walls and we would all have to fend off huge tropical insects.
I don’t do the heated Bikram Yoga classes exercising while being too hot has never appealed to me. I tend to get heatstroke in those situations. And now, in Plank, I could feel my cheeks flushing. My hair stuck to my face. My pulse quickened, but perhaps that was less from heatstroke and more from the effort of holding my body hovering over the mat in the pose.
I no longer liked the curtains I was facing. They were red decorations on the edges of an inferno. Couldn’t the studio have chosen a cooling color? What’s wrong with blue?
I peeked over at Tie-dye guy. Apparently men have sweat ducts on their elbows. Wow, you learn something new every day.
“Okay class. Lower through Chataranga to Cobra, and now down to your mat.”
Great. Face down in stinky feet. The heat seemed to accentuate the smell, or maybe that was the general body odor scent the room was developing. However, I was so grateful to just be laying still, no matter how sticky, no matter how stinky, just to be calm here and do nothing but release. It was then that I remembered, it was all okay. Inside this ungodly hot, smelly tropical oasis of effort, there was a sense of release. I still wanted to run to the bathroom and wash my face in cool water, but I knew I didn’t need to just yet. I wanted to move to a corner far away from the heating vent, but I didn’t need to. I wanted to walk past the instructor and go take a look at that heater gage myself, but I didn’t need to control it. Beneath my odor mat, my island from the widening lake of sweat from tie-dye guy, the floor was cool. We rolled over to Shivasana, and I fully relaxed. I was able to lay still. More still than I had been in weeks while remaining awake. I left Tie-dye guy in his lake and came back to my own mat, my own body and my own calm center and it was all okay. As difficult as it was, I brought my mind back to the present moment, back to my body, back to my own mat, my own practice. I studied the texture of the yoga mat below me. A borrowed mat. How many others had died here on this mat? This mat that smelled of feet. Stinky yoga toes.

Life Lessons 2012

Every year, around this time, I reflect on the year gone by and look at what I have learned. It has been a wonderful year with many valuable lessons, some large, some small. Again, my disclaimer is the same as it is every year: These things I list here are true for me. They may not be true for you. My intention is only to share.

I have learned that:

There is a difference between knowing something because you read it on Wikipedia, and knowledge gained from experience. What if there was no Wikipedia, no encyclopedia and all that we learned was first hand? We would know nothing of wars on the other side of the world, conflicts in other cities between people who speak other languages, or random facts about reptiles in the Amazon. We would know more about the places we have been to, more about the things that affect the people we know and love. It would be like the world without the drama of the media and the news. Interesting.

I have learned that I can have more fun in the present if I am not attached to an outcome. Like going fishing with a 5 year old: you can sit in the dirt and eat lunch first and you are not fishing but you are enjoying strawberries and paying attention to when you have reached a full point. You may skip rocks across the surface above the fish, and you are not fishing, you are playing. You may be untangling a huge chaos of fishing line for the better part of an hour, but you are not fishing, you are solving a puzzle. You may be chasing butterflies around the pond and you are not fishing, but you are having fun. If I was attached to only going fishing and catching fish, my focus would have been distracted during the other activities and I would have missed the special little person I shared the day with, the play, the fun, the ripe strawberries along the way.

I have learned how to make Risotto, (Italian sticky rice) the slow and attentive way with constant stirring for 45 minutes. You can not multitask in the kitchen when making risotto. You cannot talk on the phone when making risotto. You cannot leave the kitchen when making risotto. And this, I find, is a great change in how I cook. Being in one place and focusing on one thing, mmm, delicious. Yes, risotto helps me be in the present moment. I am hereby re-naming it Present Moment Rice.

I have learned the importance of saying “best possible” instead of “could have been worse.”  When things were going wrong in the past, I used to cheer myself up by saying, “Well, things could always be worse.” Now I cringe when I hear someone say that because I know that the biggest part that sticks out of that sentence is the term “worse,” and all the Universe hears is “worse,” and all you are drawing to yourself is “worse than this.”  When you say, “well, if that was going to happen, this seems to have been the best possible outcome” you are putting out an entire different frequency.

I have learned that Rufus Hummingbirds are territorial. They will not share their feeder with anyone else. Even when they are full and don’t want any, they will sit close by the feeding spot and chase off other birds or hummingfriends who would like to share the sweetness. I have dated guys like that. Anyhow, the way to solve this is to have two feeders and hang them on opposite sides of the house. Rufus cannot attack those he cannot see, and other birds can get a sip in while he is feeding on the other side.


I have learned that I am allergic to Wheat, Milk and Potatoes. Knowing this and adjusting my diet has made by body much happier.

I have learned what my energy feels like without any additives. I have learned that coffee gives me adrenaline energy. That’s fun at work, but when I get home, I am drained, having given too much, worked too hard, been over the top with my energy projection. What I am trying to say is that 32 ounces of caffeine in the morning makes me crazy uppity at first, but sleepy and lethargic by 3pm.  I do much better on 12 ounces of coffee a day.

I have learned to be careful with my energy. To know how much I have, to be realistic about what I can do in one day. I used to be a multi-tasker to a fault. It is okay to do less. It is okay to say NO to some things so I can show up 100 percent to other things. This is energy management.

I have also learned a lot about time management. Last year I worked three part-time jobs. My hours off from Job 1 were filled with Job 2, occasionally followed by Job 3. This led to 14 hour workdays, less than one day off per week and a consistently drained Sara. Much of this had to do with my relationship with money, I felt I needed to work every day of the week to have enough. This year I tried something different. I picked only one job and asked for full time with continguous days off. The income of this one job was the same as all three jobs combined and I actually had time to do the things I loved to do.
Part of time management was making myself a priority. I carefully considered new opportunities before saying yes. Even if they were opportunities for fun things, play things, new hobbies, etc. I would first ask myself, am I taking on too much? How much time will this new thing ask of me? Does this feed me or drain me? Would doing this be important a year from now?

I have learned that balance always involves movement.  Balance takes a particular amount of engagement and planning, and a certain amount of gentle release as well. I find in life, I balance best if I am not tightly wound, tightly attached to outcome, trying to pack too many things in at once, or pushing for something against the flow.

I have learned that a yoga practice needs to have focus on alignment for me to not feel like I have pulled a muscle afterwards. In knowing this, I have switched yoga studios from Hatha to Anusara Yoga and it is back to being a healthy practice without pain.

I have learned that change in temperature creates wind. And I have felt this phenomena first hand in a tiny aircraft 1,000 feet above the earth.

I have learned that the little plant Plantain with its wide oval shapped leaves and sinuous veins is an extractant. If you have a bee sting or a sliver you cannot remove, creating a poltice from crushed Plantain leaves will help purge the foreign article. I will also soothe the sting.

I have learned how to write query letters to magazines. A query letter is a short letter telling the editor of a magazine or website about a great topic they need to feature and why I am just the author they want to write it.

I have learned that the red oblong tropical Mountain Apples taste a lot like pears and they make a great snack after surfing.

I have learned that salted caramel bars make the best S’mores.

I have learned that there is a simple magic in knowing that you are cared about.

I have had the beautiful reminder to never assume. I never really know what people have gone through, or what they are dealing with. It is not that the nit-picky ones, the grumpy ones are simply mean hearted.  We are all human, dealing with the complexities and death and birth and change that life sends our way. Difficulty, loss, struggle, these are all situations that cause us to naturally stress, tighten up, retreat within and become short with others. The opportunities to change my thinking and assume less are everywhere if I am open to them.  The closed fist cannot shake hands, cannot receive. The closed mind cannot perceive another‘s humanness. The closed heart cannot receive love.



I have learned that two people can be in the same place, but be having completely different experiences. We are all choosing the nature of our experience. I do not have to allow the experience other people are having dictate my own. I can refrain from picking up the expectations of others, or their fears. I don’t have to agree and adopt how they say it will be, and I can differentiate that is how it will be for them and allow them their own experience.

I have been reminded that all we ever have is here and now. People are living and dying every day. We never know how long we have the people who are so special to us in our world.
I am reminded that most people don’t know how you feel about them until you tell them. I understand that some choose to not say I love you over and over because they fear it will get worn out and mean less. I disagree. Remind people that you love them because they might not be here tomorrow. You may not be here tomorrow. Share time and love and appreciation now while you have got it.


I have been to Kauai 7 times, but just this year I learned that there is a pod of dolphins off the coast. They are spinner dolphins and its exhilarating to see them from a stand up paddle board.

I have learned that its best to communicate to your surfing or paddling buddy that you are done and heading in before you paddle in and get out of the water alone.

I have figured out why Americans want to move to Costa Rica. Will I be one of them, possibly…we shall just have to see.

I have learned how to take care of my own needs. After a few years of practice, I have become quite efficient at this, which is remarkable. However, this year I learned that the extreme of this trait can step on someone else’s wants. In order to have balance, I need to allow others the same space to communicate their needs as I take to communicate my own.

Last year I learned how to so latte art with hearts and leaves. This year, I have taken it to a whole new level. Using espresso, milk and chocolate, I have made faces, elephants, mountains, lizards, butterflies, monkeys, giraffes, an octopus, a hummingbird, a unicorn, mermaids and kayakers on the tops of coffee drinks to add a little love and creativity into my customers’ day.


Have you ever been in a tropical place and noticed that there is rice in the salt shakers? This is to help prevent the salt from sticking together in a block when exposed to the moisture of humidity. This year I learned that when you drop your camera in the river while fishing with a 5 year old, if you put the camera in a bag of rice and leave it alone for 24 hours, it dries out and works just fine!

I have come to the realization that others will show up how they show up and I cannot control that. At first, I had a difficult time with people who do not behave like I do at the workplace. People who only do the bare minimum. That is of course, their choice, but it affects my day by creating more work for me to do. I went through a period of being upset with these people. But then, I understood that is how they show up, and I reached the point where I could just have a good laugh about it and move forward. I found that if I got to work ten minutes early, I could finish their job and then begin my own. I think this is rather similar to parenting. Remember when you used to resent your parents for doing things to you as a kid? And when upset and frustrated, you would vow to yourself, “I am never going to put my kids through that.” The only control you had over the situation was to not do the same thing as a parent yourself.
I find it is similar here. I can do everything expected of me in the workplace. I can sweep and mop, not leave broken pint glasses in the drains, remake chocolate when I use the last of it and help stock things for the next person because that is the only control I have - I get to control how I show up, (not how they show up) and how much I give to the job.

I have caught myself being polite and nice and saying things like, “I am sorry, I can’t do that.” I found that I used to say I am sorry, even when I was not, just to be polite. Doing this is like a tiny white lie. It is being inauthentic. Striving to be authentic, I have learned to be honest about what I can do and what I cannot do but only apologize when I am truly sorry. The same goes for when someone says or does something that hurts me, I don’t step over my feelings and say “Oh that’s okay.” Instead, I tell them how I feel so we can heal it before moving forward.  And I do not excuse actions that hurt me just so the other person will not be in an awkward place.

Along the same lines, I have learned that when someone says something that I am hurt by, I often take it the wrong way and make up a story about what they might mean by their comment and I take it personally. In the past, I would just leave. A couple of relationships of mine have ended because of something the other person said that I took in this manner. Then I learned to ask, “Is this what you mean by that comment, because this is how I took it…” And this year, I learned another tool around this.
If I say, “In my head, I am making up a story that you meant….” Then they have a chance to change the story and correct me. Wording things this way makes it even less accusatory and allows the conversation to remain on a level playing field instead of defensive and offensive. Nine times out of ten, that person did not mean what I thought they meant. Often it is a miscommunication and I get the opportunity to let go of my story and replace it with their true intention. I find it incredible that miscommunications used to end my relationships and now that I have more skills and tools these are just things that happen that we both move forward from in a loving way.

In a yoga retreat this year, I learned how to meditate. How to still my mind and sit without thinking.

I have learned that if you want others to support your cause, you need to support theirs also. Generosity often inspires others to give also.
   
There really is no sense in waiting to do the things you was to do. You don’t have to be the best, the fastest, the strongest or the most flexible. You just have to show up and be authentic. When you are connected to who you really are, you have a greater chance of connecting with others.


If we wait to be better than we are now, opportunities for things we want will continue to pass us by. When we are convincing ourselves we need a different set of circumstances in order to have what we want, we are not fully accepting who we are in this moment. The truth is, you are always capable of having what you want.


And now, after all this reflection about what I have learned, I ask myself, where would my energy be best spent in the coming year? Well, physically, that will be out in the world, beyond the borders of the United States - exploring 16 or more different countries and returning to some favorite hangouts. My energy would be best spent being awake, engaged, connecting with other cultures and ecosystems and of course, playing BIG on this journey.

I would like to devote energy to being a luxuriously paid travel writer.

I would like to work on securing the eternity of the present moment. Somehow I see being present, being awake in this moment as something so important that I have continued to remind myself of it year after year. This summer, I met a monk in orange robes under a banyan tree. I asked him how to secure the eternity of the present moment. He said it involves looking at what you are concerned about. Worried about the future, or dwelling on the past. Make peace with these things so you do not have to carry them into the present moment. If you are worried about something that might happen, come back to a mantra, for example: “All Is Well Right Now.” Use the mantra as often as needed, gently pulling yourself in to the present. And practice, practice, practice.
Perhaps securing the eternity of the present moment is part of what made this monk a guru. But what do I want out of it? A deeper experience, a more focused, whole and energetically available self in this moment.  A more vibrant life, and a calm mind. Mindfulness, wholeness, peace.

Think Outside the Box, Color Outside the Lines

Tiny hands, flawless smooth oval canvases, bright vinegar colors, flower stickers and lots and lots of crayons. Quiet focused sighs, excited oos and aws. It’s the stuff art is made of, the stuff Easter eggs are made of.

This Easter, I was again impressed by children’s creative abilities at such an early age. Their ability to pair colors that work so well together. The way purple makes orange spirals stand out, the way teal gives a yellow sun a particular glow. I find it fantastic how naturally decorating eggs comes even at age two, with four works of art going at the same time. Soaking one egg in vibrant color while another egg dries.

Watching this creative process reminded me of a recent story. While working on the floor plans for the newest local school, architectural design team visited the existing school and met with every child, teacher, staff member, and board member looking for feedback and ideas. The designers wanted to know: What would you like your new school to have? The students were grades K thru 12. The third graders were ecstatic about the new school and drew pictures of it. Their ideas included: How about a round library? How about entering the classroom on a slide? What if every wall was a mural? And the ceiling was an aviary? You could make an archway in the classroom wall and build a huge spiral slide that entered the classroom.

The designers were surprised to notice a trend while they were interviewing students and teachers. As their interviews progressed to older students and up the hierarchy, the interest started to decline. By the tenth graders, most of the answers were shrugs, or “I don’t know.” When the board members were asked: What would you like your new school to be? They had only two answers: on time and within the budget.

I was appalled at those results. What is our society doing to our creative children? Why did the school children have fewer and fewer original ideas, and less self esteem to voice them as they got older?

I personally wonder if any of it has to do with Nintendo video games and I-pods and sure, that silly new game Angry Birds.

I am not saying the problem lies wholly within technology, I can only say from a nanny’s perspective: I was heartbroken when the mother of my children gave in to her kid’s requests for a Nintendo video game player. These devices that keep being given to our children at younger and younger ages are helping them tune out. Watch a child with a Nintendo or an I-pod. They may as well be sleeping. They are not present, they cannot interact with anyone else in the room. These devices are habit forming, and so are their isolating results.

Video games do not encourage children to be self entertaining, they often don’t teach anything, nor do they help think outside the box. Creativity is a bird. If you do not feed it for a while, it will not keep returning to your window.

What other factors may have attributed to the progression of lack of creativity in those school children?

Some critical stages in a child’s development are popularly known, such as the fact that introducing a second language before the age of two helps the frontal and temporal areas of the brain remain open so that learning a new language later in life comes easier. Some sensitive windows in development are lesser known, like the idea that a child’s worldview begins solidifying at age six. At age 12, the worldview is sealed. Therefore, to some degree, after age 12, the framework of ideas and beliefs through which an individual interacts with and interprets the world will not change. Our worldview is our evaluative presumption about the nature of things. Its the space within us in which we develop our relationship with our culture, other cultures, diversity, Nature, Religion or Spirituality. Why is this important? It provides the framework for generating and applying knowledge. And just like the space within ourselves that holds love, it can be wide and full or tight and shallow. And by the age of 12, it is as big as it may ever be.

So what can we do? How can we let love in, let the world in, and keep our children awake and engaged with life?

I acknowledge I have a skewed view on all of this because I don’t have children of my own yet. However, I do have little ones in my life that I can interact with, ask questions of, introduce colors and games and projects to. Their creativity inspires me and reignites my own spark. I keep feeding the bird so it can travel far enough to know it has a vast sky of possibility, not just a box, a cage. To color outside of the lines.

To me, it’s a case of why art and music classes should not be eliminated with education budget cuts. It’s a reason to take children traveling and expand their horizons, to take them out in Nature, to the zoo, to play interactive games where they get to design something new. And of course, it’s a beautiful argument for lots and lots of crayons.

To those creative little ones in my world: Amy, Caleb, Betsy and Joss: Please keep drawing. You are good enough. Your art is good enough. Don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise. Be proud of what you can do.

To the mothers of these fantastic children: You are doing an incredible, admirable job and believe it or not, it’s sinking in.

Of Goodness and Cupcakes

I walked into Ida’s Cupcake Café to indulge a chocolate craving and joined a line of others waiting to order. The little Blonde girl in front of me approached the counter and announced, “It’s my birthday and I am doing random acts of kindness.” She looked down at a handful of dollar bills and said, “I have sixteen dollars. How many cupcakes will that buy me? Ten?”

“Uh, no. I think that buys seven small cupcakes.” The cupcake employee told her.

“Okay, then I will take seven cupcakes.” I listened as she chose frosting flavors for each and asked for individual boxes. When the woman went into the back of the store to accommodate the request, I asked, “Random acts of Kindness, huh?”

The little blonde girl turned around. “Yup.” She said, her blue eyes sparkling.

“So, what’s that like?” I asked, smiling back.

“Well, there are so many people in my life who make me smile. And today I am giving back and returning the favor.”

“In cupcakes?” I asked.

“Not all of them. My roomate needed a new picture frame, and my neighbors needed dirt for their flowers they want to plant. My mom mentioned needing something specific so I am surprising her bu buying it for her. Some of these people I know and now is just the right time to give to them. And then there are strangers. People whose names I don’t even know that are good to me and brighten my day. Like the mail man at the post office, or the lady who holds the pizza sign and dances on the corner of Greenwood and 3^rd.”

I laughed. I’ve seen that lady too.

“So how many years have you been doing this?” I asked.

“This is my first year and I am really excited. I want to keep it going year after year. I am turning twenty today and I figure twenty good deeds sounds about right.”

What I said next really surprised her.

“May I donate to your cause?”

“Oh wow! Sure! That would be so neat.”

I reached in my pocket and pulled out my tip money from that day and handed it to her.

“Wow!” she said again. “Thanks!”

It seemed perfect to give her the tip money that others had given me for my smiles.

“Hey Lady, I am going to need some more cupcakes! I now have twenty one dollars, how many cupcakes can I buy with that?” The cupcake employee who had returned with seven little boxes of delight just sighed and said, “You know what, kid, I’ll give you the full dozen.”

A few things were happening in that moment. My generosity had inspired the counter person to give more also. It was not that I was inspired to buy a dozen cupcakes and do the same, heading over to see my mail man. I didn’t have the time that day. But her cause did inspire me and I wanted to support it. I believe in the exchange of energy, of giving to those who give to you. And I also acknowledged that I had not given to a cause in a long while.

I recently created this sub-page on my Round the World Trip site asking others to live vicariously by donating to my journey. And I understand that if you want something, it is important to make physical steps towards it. If you want to win the lottery, buy a ticket. If you want others to support your cause, support theirs as well.

Decadent chocolate cupcake in hand, I wished the do-good-sprite a Happy Birthday and left the café. Reflecting back on the conversation, the one question I wish I had asked her was:

“Did you get a cupcake for yourself also?” For I have learned the importance of giving to yourself, of remembering to take care of yourself as you are meeting the needs of others.

Somewhere out there today is a gracious girl with sunshine in her hair and kindness sparkling in her eyes, surprising people in her world with the sweetness of goodness and cupcakes.

Reflections on Britenbush's Spring Renewal Yoga Retreat

I once thought that the people who went to yoga retreats were the gorgeous, successful, incredibly flexible women who could rest their heads on the floor in a forward bend. I had day-dreamed about having the experience of a yoga retreat in some tropical place, doing yoga several times a day, happily becoming more centered and balanced, but I was sure I needed a stronger yoga practice first.

The truth is, you don’t need to be able to wrap your legs both behind your head and balance on your hands to go to a yoga retreat. I found that all you have to do is sign up, show up and be authentic.

Six months ago, my close friend Heidi and I signed up for the Spring Renewal Yoga and Meditation Retreat in Britenbush, Oregon. This would be my first trip to Britenbush, and our retreat coincided with an all women’s week. No men on premises. I escaped attending Catholic School for Girls, so this was my first experience surrounded by only women. All the faces I passed and smiled at were women. I shared every meal with women, I soaked in hot tubs with women, and the dynamic was incredible. There was no competition. I noticed that none of us wore make up. We came to breakfast in our pajamas, we came to yoga class with fuzzy bed heads. No one acted out or created drama for attention. There were no class clowns. In this environment we could show up as we were and be comfortable with that.

Britenbush itself is an amazing complex. 45 cabins and five main buildings are run on the same amount of electricity as it takes to run three homes in a city. There is no cell phone service or internet and there are no T.Vs. The seven hot springs tubs and pools do not smell like eggs and are clean of debris. The cabins are small and simple with comfortable beds and tin roofs. Hot water is channeled from a tapped geyser through all the buildings in refurbished antique radiators creating cozy heat. The employees who keep Britenbush running are open, creative, conscious individuals who are more of community members than coworkers. I felt right at home in this remote natural setting.

Heidi and I arrived in a blizzard, and the snow continued to accumulate over the next three days. We woke up early, and tromped through the snow to meditation class in a circular building down by the Britenbush river. It was dark, but somehow the snow illuminated our way. Fresh tracks crossed the path several times: deer on their way to the river, a raven proving he doesn’t really have to fly and can stroll proudly along, his tail feathers leaving lines in the new snow. We passed the path to the hot tubs, hidden in snow. The lack of bootprints told us noone was up for an early morning soak yet. But curious tracks headed towards the hot pools: tiny hand prints, with bigger back feet. A raccoon headed to the tubs to wash something, or boil an egg for breakfast.

I have been instructed on how to sit and meditate several times in my life. But I have never been able to master it for it’s a challenge for me to sit up without support -my low back usually hurts or my shoulders ache after just a few moments. But as our graceful instructor, Shannon McCall explained how to align our pelvis so we could relax our legs into the floor and be heavy from the bellybutton down, I was suddenly able to stack my spine and sit without the distraction of a painful body. I quieted my mind and was able to sit fully present, in my body, completely relaxed and without thought.

Five hours of yoga a day and I still was not as sore as I had thought I would be. We kept moving, soaked in the tubs and ate regular meals after each practice. The very first class, I had to make the decision to keep my mind on my own yoga mat. Not wandering over to see how Heidi was doing, or wondering how the woman in front of me could extend her leg that high and still breathe. I accepted the fact that I cannot bend over and touch my toes. So what? I love yoga, I feel good when I am doing it. My pose may look different from the instructor’s version of the pose, but its still yoga in my own practice. I choose to honor my heart by being there, and honor my body by not pushing and going too far, sacrificing it for the glory of the pose.

I am still a yogi even if I cannot touch my toes yet. Paying attention to my body and my breath, I move into a pose and stretch until I reach the edge, the limit of how far I can go without pain. That edge will change over time as I can stretch farther and farther. But I am okay with being where I am now. I won’t wait to love myself until I can touch my toes. Just as a medical student doesn’t wait to accept themselves until they become a doctor. If you can love yourself when you are working towards something and when you have achieved it, love yourself every step of the journey, you can fully live in every step.

During a break between classes, Heidi took a nap and I decided to go out into the snowstorm and explore. I wandered down a path I had never taken before and ended up in what is considered Sacred space at Britenbush. The tubs along this path are more natural, built with smooth river rocks. I found a steaming pool up against the hillside overlooking a little meadow. Beyond the meadow, the earth drops down to the river, with a line of tall fir trees beyond with a mountain behind them. I was blessed with solitude and had the pool all to myself. I lay back and floated in the 106 degree water, watching the slow heavy snowflakes drift down and settle in cool circles on my forehead, my lips, my palms. An orange willow tree reached over me, laden with the weight of winter. A group of pigeons flew over - their wings arched back behind them, their hearts open and pushed forward. Before this I never noticed how pigeons fly as though they are led by their hearts. The act itself is a physical representation of trust as they follow their heart; gliding through the air, completely open to love, relaxing in the flow of life.

There really is no sense in waiting to do the things you was to do. You don’t have to be the best, the fastest, the strongest or the most flexible. You just have to show up and be authentic. When you are connected to who you really are, you have a greater chance of connecting with others.

If we wait to be better than we are now, opportunities for things we want will continue to pass us by. When we are convincing ourselves we need a different set of circumstances in order to have what we want, we are not fully accepting who we are in this moment. The truth is, you are always capable of having what you want.

If I waited until I could touch my toes in a forward bend to do a yoga retreat, I would have missed out on this wonderful week of friendship, relaxation and renewal. Truth is, you just have to go for it. Don’t wait. Live now, the toes will come later.