Tag Archives: #reverb10

I Threw Something Away

Posted on January 28, 2011 | 2 Comments
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Yes, alert the media.  This is big.

I get rid of stuff all the time.  I do the semi-annual give-away-old-clothes-books-gadgets clean out, and have done for years.  But something is different now.  In part inspired by #reverb10, during December I reflected on the past year and envisioned what I wanted for 2011.  One of the reflections was about letting go, actually and metaphorically, and I wrote about that here.  I hired an assistant to come in and teach me how to deal with . . .

Dun dun DUNNNNNN. . .

Paper.

I’ve read dozens of self-help, get-organized books, and have learned to be very well organized in most aspects of my life.  Furthermore, I have several friends who are professional organizers of the highest caliber.  I could sense when one of them would begin to salivate at the prospect of straightening me out, as they sniffed around for their opportunity to ensnare me.  I valued their friendship more than I wanted to risk their wrath and judgment, so I never hired them to help me with what I really needed.  For me, the breakdown was that most of what I read was about how to keep everything organized.  I really wanted to have less to have to organize in the first place.  My previous strategies had reached their expiration date. My prior level of organization was no longer adequate for today’s demands and challenges.  I knew what result I wanted, but I didn’t know how to get there.

My new assistant, who comes for another five hours this Friday,  provided a hub for what I realized were just random informational “spokes” whirling around in my life, poking me, lacerating the surroundings, and good for nothing.  With her “hub,” the spokes have something to attach to — the crucial missing piece.  I am now capable of self-propulsion.

I have become a dedicated and enthusiastic shredder.  I have shredded so much accumulated and outdated paper, that my partner jokes, “Are we closing the Embassy?” I have embraced the ideal of a paperless office, even if I never completely get there.   All information about each of my accounts is available online anyway, so I have stopped most incoming mail from those accounts and vendors.  I’ll be scanning the documents I really do need, so digital versions will replace the paper clogging my file cabinets and my brain. I have external hard drives and cloud storage available to back up my back ups, so I feel fantastic.  I have become pitch-happy, ready to part with almost anything.  If it can be shredded, so much the better.

The title of this post is the spoiler for a tiny event tonight that has changed everything.   It’s not just that I can throw something away:  it’s that I realize I have learned something, and have applied my capacity to think critically and use that new learning instead of using my old habitual “Default” setting of “I must keep this.”  Here’s how it went:

I received my new EZ Tag in the mail yesterday, and went online to activate it. (An EZ Tag lets me go through the “fast lane” on Texas toll roads in major metro areas.) I put the EZ Tag on my windshield, according to the directions.  A print-out showed me my tag number, order number for activation, and my account balance.  I thought:  where do I keep this brochure and the enclosed information?  In the glove box?  No.  In a file?  So as I looked at this packet, I thought:  I don’t need the brochure cover, so that can be recycled.  I don’t need the instructions for how to apply my tag to the windshield, because that is done.    There’s this document that has my activation code — shall I scan it?  Wait a minute.  I have already activated it online.  The only other information on the page is my account balance, which is also available online.

SHREDDER!!!! <zzzzzzzzzzhhhhhhzzzzzzhhhhhhzzzzzzhhhhhh> and DONE.

Moshe Feldenkrais said, “Any adjustment is evidence that learning has occurred.”  Each milestone, no matter how seemingly small, is a marker on a larger journey of progress.  The Feldenkrais Method is based on this kind of gentle, incremental, transformational learning.  When you look back at the baby steps, you can see how far you have come.

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#reverb10 – Day 31 – Ending the Year

Posted on December 31, 2010 | 1 Comment
Mount Hood reflected in Trillium Lake, Oregon.

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December 31, 2010.  In the past month, I chose to re-dedicate myself to the practice of writing.  I had an attractive “nudge” to do so: the #reverb10 project.

Each day, a prompt for thoughtful reflections would arrive in my email inbox.  Some struck me as silly or juvenile, some really interesting, and some maddening — but all accomplished their purpose, which was to provide inspiration for writing. After Christmas, after 25 days of blogging, it was time for a break.

I’m old enough that it didn’t bother me in the slightest if I did not adhere precisely to the literal surface value of the words in each prompt.  I used the prompt as a “center of gravity,” or as a firm surface against which to push, to gain some traction, and to move forward.    I wrote about comical things, serious things, and I hope that what I wrote was interesting.  I proved to myself that I can write, and I can write every day.

After 25 days, the prompts started to feel repetitive to me.  I also experienced a shift, largely inspired by #reverb10.  After three weeks of devoting myself to reflection, I was ready to emerge from the cocoon and fly, gracefully,  into action. Inspired by several of the prompts, I began to picture the kind of office I would like to have, the kind of home environment I would like to have, and so on — and then I felt full.  Time to stop, and start to do.  As I have written previously here, I launched into a massive re-organization of my office (the bathroom closet and the dresser are next!) and I feel that sunny virtuousness that comes from doing satisfying work that is largely hidden from public view.

“To everything there is a season,” as the Good Book says.  A time to reflect and prepare, and a time to produce, to act, to create. There is too little reflection in our culture and society.  Our actions, personally, nationally, globally, are mistakenly described as bold, courageous, or strong, when in fact they are merely rash and reactive.  Intelligent action requires a prelude of reflection, of careful thinking and planning, or at least noticing — in order to have the freedom to act spontaneously with strength and power.  This is the foundation of the work of Moshe Feldenkrais, and the Feldenkrais Method.

There’s also a danger in spending so much time in reflection that you never DO anything. I think that, as with any appetite, allowing oneself to gratify the urge will eventually establish a healthy limit.  You can feel it when you’ve had enough to eat, or drink — that is, if you haven’t dulled your senses so much that you habitually ignore yourself.  Likewise,  the emotions of sadness and grief might not turn into long-term depression if we simply allow ourselves to feel what we feel, without rushing or judging — until we have had our fill, and are ready to move on.  And so it is with reflection.  Stare at yourself in the mirror long enough, and you’re going to put on some lipstick or brush your hair eventually!  And then, it’s time to take yourself out in the world to do something.

Reflection and action are two sides of the same coin, and both are better for their acquaintance with other.  I think the key is not to imagine some arbitrary place “in the middle” where “we have a balance.”  In that balance is inertia.   No, we need a dynamic balance:  we navigate along a spectrum, as life sometimes requires more action and less reflection, and other times require the opposite.    We adapt, we flow, we live.

[Thanks for reading this month.  Thanks to all the new readers and friends who contributed so much to my world and my awareness as I read their reflections in comments here, and on their own blogs.  I'll continue to write every day, or almost every day, in 2011.  Some of what I write will appear here.  Come back any time!]

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#reverb10 – Day 25 – Photo

Posted on December 25, 2010 | 2 Comments

Prompt: Photo – a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you. [Prompt by Tracey Clark, via #reverb10]

May 17, 2010

This photo sums up the best of 2010 for me.  It was my birthday, a big one. The students in the Houston Feldenkrais Training, in session for just two weeks, conspired to throw a surprise party.  Lisa played the violin.  Everyone brought amazing food for a luncheon potluck.  The birthday cake was a cupcake pyramid from one of Houston’s premier cupcakeries. We adorned ourselves with temporary tattoos that didn’t wash off for days afterwards.  Mardi Gras beads, a tiara, party hats for all, a pinata, a bouquet of my favorite flowers (blue iris), and other thoughtful gifts (including a great bottle of wine and an assortment of luxurious lotions and potions) made it a true celebration.  We’re sitting at picnic tables outside of Westwood Hall at Emerson Unitarian Church in Houston, Texas, our beautiful venue for the training.  It was a perfect, sparkling, sunshiny, Houston springsummer day.

The photo was taken by wonderful Frances, a student in our training.  Pictured from left to right are Cathy (with coffee cup); Paul, dear friend, mentor, and business partner (baseball cap); Chris, my sweetheart and life partner:  Thomas (at back table); Moi, the birthday girl, sporting the tiara and big smile; Nita; someone’s hand (not sure who!); and Carl, with our good friend Moshe Feldenkrais, who made a special guest appearance.

Sadly, three months later, Nita, chef, friend, expat bonne vivante, cupcake procurer and partner-in-crime, died suddenly at her home in Kazhakstan, of an enlarged heart. I couldn’t help but think how poetic and ironically appropriate that post mortem diagnosis was — and thought to myself, “What a way to go.” And yet, she was only 43.  WTF.  I continue to miss her.   Our training program reconvened a mere two weeks after her death, and we all miss her, halfway protecting the territory on the floor that was “her place.”  To come across all of these party photos, and this one in particular. . .

So this picture is the year in a nutshell.  Good friends, old and new.  The culmination of years of work and organization.  The creative spontaneity of expression from a newly forming community. Happiness and fun, silliness and celebration.  Love, business, food, work, colleagues.  And the awareness of life and all its preciousness.  What does the choice reveal about me?  I guess just that I love my friends, and my work,  and that I have learned to relish them, and everything.

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#reverb10 – Day 24 – Everything’s OK

Posted on December 24, 2010 | Leave a comment
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Prompt: Everything’s OK. What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be all right? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead? (Prompt by author Kate Inglis for #reverb10.)

It’s Christmas Eve.  I saw this prompt in my inbox this morning, and have thought about it all day.  We’ve just returned from a lovely and low-key dinner at our favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant, I’m in my new pajamas (a thoughtful gift from my love, who knows that a day spent lounging is a wonderful and rare thing) and waiting until the next showing of “A Christmas Story” on TV.  It is moments like this — moments of quiet contentment, that seem to melt into the wallpaper — when, if I could only take a breath and NOTICE — and say, “THERE!  HERE!  This is it!  THIS!  THIS!  THIS is the essence of everything that makes you happy!”  – WOW.  Those moments are everywhere.

However — life is like being a fighter pilot.  You know the old joke — “Hours of boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror.”  The moments of terror show up as spikes on the long readout tape of life.  They are so loud and distorted, and take up so much bandwidth, that I can easily be persuaded that my life is made up of a series of crises, narrowly averted.

Of course, there’s another way of looking at it.  Moshe Feldenkrais describes a series of meetings with a well-known pedagogue, who taught him how to draw. After a series of  miserable attempts, the teacher said, in effect:  don’t draw the thing.  Draw what is around the thing.  When Moshe began to focus on the “negative space,” the spaces where there was — nothing — the image appeared with great quality and clarity.  I wonder if by shifting my attention to this “blank space,” these plain and everyday moments when there is no crisis, that my perception of contentment would become the norm.

There was a moment, in the last quarter of the year, when a business partner handed me a nice big check.  It represented a lot of concentrated work, and value returned for it.  As shallow as it seems, that moment of receiving that particular check was a moment when I noticed that I was breathing, and that life was good.  Of course, there are many such moments, although they are represented with less drama and splash.  I experienced a similar quality on a spring drive on Texas back roads in search of wildflowers in late March.  I experienced it listening to an inspiring musical performance.  I experienced it in community gathered after the death of a friend.  Somehow, those continual confirmations that “Everything is all right” are too polite — too meek, never forcing themselves into awareness, saying “Look at me!  Here I am!  You’ve got it!”  No.  The perfect moments are wallflowers, the undramatic and everyday events quietly watching from the perimeter, while the glamorous and dramatic challenges get all the attention.  However, polite thought they may be — they are everywhere.  They need only to be acknowledged.

How to have more such moments in 2011?  Well, it’s nice to get checks!  And, I think the way is prepared by simply noticing those moments of contentment, when all is well.  Truth be told, all is well the vast majority of the time.  I’ve found that by counting my blessings, by expressing gratitude, and by simply noticing those moments when all is well — somehow, suddenly, more appear.

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#reverb10 – Day 23 – New Name

Posted on December 23, 2010 | Leave a comment
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Prompt: New name. Let’s meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why? [Prompt by Becca Wilcott,  for #reverb10]

As a child, and as a teenager, I never liked my name.

My given name was Mary Elizabeth, but from the beginning, my parents decided to call me Mary Beth.  That was fine until I started school.

I soon figured out that every class roster had me listed as “Mary.”  So, the first day of school, every year, I was the kid who always had to pipe up to correct the teacher.  ”I’m called Mary BETH.”  Furthermore, my 100% WASP last name was frequently mispronounced, as people added an extra letter to conform to a name they had heard before.  ”No ‘D’ in the middle,” I mimicked my parents’ tag line.  From the beginning, was I “The Demanding One?”

Over time, I came to loathe the name “Mary.”  Not for others, just for myself. When I was in the third or fourth grade, I asked my mom if I could PLEASE change my name — or at least be called something else.  That left me to play with “Elizabeth.”  I could be Betty, Betsy, Beth, or the ultra-glamorous “Liz.” Somehow, the transition never got off the ground.  The prospect of re-educating everyone in my elementary-school world was just too overwhelming, I guess.

Perhaps it was as I entered junior high and high school that I accepted my name as a done deal.  I began performing, and rather liked seeing my name in programs and newspapers.  My mother kept a file of every scrap of paper that showed I had been acknowledged in print, by people outside our immediate family.  My dad, characteristically, gave a mixed message:  ”Good for you!  You know, when I was growing up, They Said the only times you should have your name in the paper is when you are born, when you get married, and when you die.  Other than that, keep your name out of the paper!”  Hahahaha.  What was I supposed to do with that?  Did I make career choices and limit my goals and achievements so that I would follow what I thought was advice from him?

I got married.  Even though I had the beginnings of a career and a smidgen of name-recognition with my maiden name, I decided to take his name.  For women to have that option in the 1970′s, and to exercise it, was still pretty radical feminist.  I was married to him for almost twenty-five years, and have been divorced for eight.  I have kept his name.  It’s how everyone knows me, and knows what I have done.  It’s the name my children have.  The name and I are connected, even though the man and I are no longer.

As I age and become increasingly comfortable in my own skin, so to speak, I feel more comfortable with my identity, and with the notion that it’s okay to have one.  A large percentage of the people I see around town only know me by my Twitter handle — “divamover” — and at many social events, that is how I introduce myself.  Start with what is known, then move toward the unknown. My name, and my twitter handle, are associated with a brand, my brand, just me.  They are also associated with a reputation, a body of work, and a way of being in the world.  Who I BE is the starting point for my identity.  What I DO is an outgrowth of that being.

From time to time, I revisit the idea of returning to my maiden name. At the moment, there’s no pressing need to do so, no statement to make, nothing that it would accomplish.  I let it be, for now.

As for introducing myself as someone else (per the prompt): sometimes I introduce myself as Juana La Loca.  Perhaps that’s my acknowledgment, and a warning to others, that I am indeed more exotic, interesting, and even dangerous — than my “plain Jane” (or Mary) name suggests.  I value my fantasies and my imagination, but I’m always me in them.  I’ve invested a lot in so-called “reality,” and in being exactly who I am.  The name is just a way to “map” your experience of me to a searchable entry in the database of your memory, and a reference point in shared memory.  MaryBeth will work just fine.

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#reverb10 – Day 22 – Travel

Posted on December 22, 2010 | Leave a comment
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Prompt: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? [Prompt by author Tara Hunt for #reverb10.]

Over the past several years, I haven’t had the budget to do much traveling.  I didn’t even have it in mind to plan to travel — until this year.

Some of my travel is for business. In June, I made a quick trip to Wichita Falls for my biennial gig there, teaching a “Feldenkrais for Musicians” class as part of a big music camp.  The event is coordinated by a long-time friend and colleague, who has been most kind to hire me year after year.  Quick up on a Sunday night, back home Monday afternoon.  In years past, the plane from Dallas to Wichita Falls was a little puddle jumper — a super small prop plane, and terrifyingly turbulent on a hot north Texas summer day.  This year, it seemed they had fewer flights, but on much larger planes.  That was much more comfortable.  2011 is an “off year” for the WF trip, as plans now stand. But I am open to re-instituting my “World Tour” to teach workshops at schools and for company retreats. Preferably in exotic locations.

I was a gypsy for three weeks in July.  I had a wonderful contract to teach at a training program for career-track opera singers, called RESONANZ. I traveled to Albany, NY for two weeks of music and movement, meeting the other people on the faculty, and marveling at the amazing talents of the students in the program.  The program is unique because it fosters the development of  each performer as a whole person.  In addition to world-class coachings and performance experiences, the students participate in mind-body practices of yoga, meditation, and the Feldenkrais Method.  Two weeks there were personally and professionally rewarding.  If I’m offered a contract to go back, it will be a pleasure to accept!

I mentioned three weeks in July, and weeks one and three were in Albany. Week Two, the middle week, was spent in my beloved Chicago at the annual conference for North American Feldenkrais teachers. I was fortunate to be on the conference program to talk about social media and practice-building.  The best part was reconnecting with friends and colleagues, and enjoying the city after the conference was over.

In 2010 I actually planned a real vacation for the first time in many years.  I planned a weekend surprise getaway to Chicago at the end of October for my partner’s birthday.  I described it in a previous post in this series, because that trip qualifies as “Best Party” of 2010. I really loved planning every detail, from booking the flights to purchasing our CityPasses online, to conspiring with friends to be able to stay in their condo.  It was a magical five days. I think I’ll include my guy in the planning for our next vacation.  It was a blessing to have created the time and the resources to make the trip.

So my questions for 2011 — how can I create more opportunities for travel this year.  As with everything — “ask and ye shall receive.” I’m asking! I’m going to apply to renew my passport so that that if an invitation arises to go abroad, I can do it.  I love to travel anywhere to share my work with people, and am currently creating more opportunities to do that.  And I think another trip to Chicago, or perhaps San Francisco, are beckoning.  I know I can be packed in less than an hour.  Let’s go!


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#reverb10 – Day 21 – Future Self

Posted on December 21, 2010 | 1 Comment

Prompt: Future self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)[Prompt by author Jenny Blake for #reverb10]

When I received the prompt in my inbox this morning, I noticed that the prompt contributor is the author of a book called, “Life After College:  The Complete Guide to Getting What You Want.”  Were resources like that even available when I graduated from college, now 33 years ago?

My college placement office was very forward-thinking, and gave me a copy of the workbook to Richard Bolles’ classic, “What Color is Your Parachute?” It helped, and I enjoyed the process and put the advice to good use.  At the time, I had a very specific focus.  I was about to be married (just one month after graduation) and move to a new state with my grad-student husband.  Career-wise, I knew much more about what I DIDN’T want, than what I DID want.

Fast forward through thirty years of a varied and interesting life.  Somehow, I learned to let my good memories and peak experiences be the foundation of my personhood and self-image, rather than the failures and disappointments. I’ve learned that if you are committed to showing up every day to live your life, you are signing up for the whole enchilada.  I’ve also learned that I exhausted myself and my relationships by trying to fit to what I thought other people wanted from me. When I had a sense of who I wanted to BE, it seems that the world has shaped itself around me.

Ten years ago, I was standing on the threshold of the most tumultuous two years of my life.  I knew that change was coming, because I could see it like the dawn.  The culmination of that period would involve leaving a job, leaving a marriage, losing a parent, and letting go of my children who were beginning to leave the nest.  But I remember around that time that I made a sort of vow to myself.  I didn’t want to wake up in ten years and say, “What the hell have I done with my life?”  I knew that I was dying — if not physically, then certainly emotionally and spiritually.  I made up my mind to take a leap and swim for my life.  So, if I were to write a note or give advice to myself back then, I would say, “You are doing the right thing.  Don’t expect it to be easy, but do what it takes.  You will be glad.”

As I look toward the next five years, I expect to be doing pretty much what I’m doing now — only better.  Continual improvement in every domain.  Open to possibilities and wonderful surprises.  If I know the essence of what I want, I can be pretty flexible and recognize it when it shows up in a different guise than I expected.  The advice I’d give myself is “You are doing the right thing.  Don’t expect it to be easy, but do what it takes. You will be glad.”

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#reverb10 – Day 20 – Beyond Avoidance

Posted on December 20, 2010 | 1 Comment
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Prompt: Beyond avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)[prompt by Jake Nickell, for reverb10.com]

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

The fact is — I did what I did.  I did not do what I did not do.  No fears, no regrets.

What would make my life even better in the coming year?

I would like to create more ease, beauty, and order in my work environment. When I get busy (which is all the time), clutter piles up.  I can still find things in the pile on my desk. I have an uncanny ability, like an archeologist or forensic paleontologist, to sift through layers of rubble from past and current projects, to find exactly what I’m looking for.  I am organized — my desk is not, in that Container Store pristine and perfect way. I see the benefits of keeping up with the paper.

A system has very nearly emerged.  And first (see my “Letting Go” post from earlier in this series),  that end-of-the-year-clearance must happen. The process of clearing, sorting, and transporting will begin tomorrow, as my client load thins for the holidays, and unscheduled time is available.  And, from the “No Try, Only Do” post, I’ll take my own advice and get into action. I may or may not resist every temptation to watch Love Actually, or part of a Law and Order blowout “marathon” in the coming days — but steady progress will be made.

My business and satisfying work load have grown this year to the point that I am able to consider contracting someone to take care of the things I don’t enjoy, and have little aptitude for.  Last year, I brought in house cleaners on a regular basis, and it was well worth the investment.  I see opportunities to streamline processes, and to focus my attention in the best direction.  I see opportunities to create some “slack” and “give” in my life, by making sure that the those day-to-day tasks that bring me no joy, still get handled.

So — I guess I’m hiring an assistant!

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#reverb10 – Day 19 – Healing

Posted on December 19, 2010 | 10 Comments
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Prompt: Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011? (Prompt provided by Leoni Allan, as part of #reverb10.)

[Eyeroll.]

Puh-LEEZ.

There is no more dis-empowering worldview than the one in which you are encouraged to view yourself as broken, unworthy, needing healing, and as incapable of doing anything for yourself. This question  sets up a crazy-making and manipulative vortex that sucks in the impressionable.  What healed you this year? Translation:  of course you agree that you were hopelessly screwed up.  Please tell us how screwed up you were, so that we can feel better about ourselves. Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? Translation: please confirm that my experience is valid, because I don’t have a clue.  How would you like to be healed in 2011? Translation:  because of course you are still irreparably screwed up, and the need for healing is never-ending.  Please buy my book.

This question invites people to join the perpetual pity party.  I am broken.  I need to be healed.  I want to be healed.  I hope I can be healed.  Who will heal me? Oh, you need to be healed, too?  Let’s be friends. Above all, let’s work on ourselves without end.  It’s a golden excuse for why things aren’t working in our lives — plus, we get to look noble.

We glorify our faults, our weaknesses, our pain.  We justify and excuse it.  When it doesn’t go away, we have nothing but our self-loathing.  STOP IT NOW.

I know that sounds harsh.

Over the past 25 years, I have observed an alarming trend in public language and culture.  It bastardizes the ideas of healing and wholeness, and steals worthy impulses toward self-improvement to label them as “fixing our brokenness.” The loaded language of recovery and repentance, artificially sweetened by New Age airheads and religionists alike, has crept into daily discussion. People seem to rush to embrace and include the paradigm of addiction and dysfunction in their self-image.  To hear some tell it, we are all addicted to something.  We are all “damaged goods.” There is no aspect of our being that is not in need of therapy – and the advertising machine reinforces the belief.  The heartbreak of frizzy hair, the destructive potential of chapped lips, the intractability of breaking fingernails: you can purchase therapy in a bottle.   Everyone is “in treatment” for something.  Our world needs to be healed.  Our relationships need to be healed. Most of all, YOU need to be healed. Are you healed?

In no way am I disparaging those who suffer from chronic pain, from mental illness, from disease processes and neurological disorders, and from plain old-fashioned human cruelty.  My life has been changed for the better through the expertise of medical professionals, psychotherapists, counselors, and a tour through the recovery movement and various 12-step programs.  There ARE problems and diseases out there that require intervention, a pulling up on the reins to say, “Whoa!” before passing a point of no return.  There are conditions that WILL KILL YOU if you don’t get expert help.  Doesn’t expensive department-store shampoo labeled “Hair Therapy” diminish the legitimate suffering of people with REAL problems (and the training and expertise of those professionals who help them)?

To be sure, things get broken:  our bodies, our hearts, our relationships, our thinking processes.  Some people suffer horrifically at the hands of torturers, within the family circle, local social order, or  international sphere.  There is trauma and death and war.  We should have compassion for those who suffer, and help them and ourselves in any way we can.  Doesn’t our relentless focus on our incompleteness and brokenness just create more of what we don’t want?  It seems to me that we would be better served to be developing resiliency rather than dependency.

My work, as a teacher of the Feldenkrais Method, is often used to help people with serious difficulties.  I don’t define myself as “a healer.”  If others want to describe me as that, or if that was their experience, then that is fine.  I’ll encourage them to expand their vocabulary and take more credit for themselves.  I’m a teacher.  I teach people how to improve their ability to function.  Often, it starts with improving the way they move, so that they can have less pain, better coordination, or more refined skill.  Often these improvements generalize and are carried over into other aspects of their lives. Somehow, they become more capable of acting on their own behalf — of independence and self-determination.  When you can learn to improve some area of concern, all kinds of possibilities emerge.  The possibility of true wellness and wholeness — of living your life, doing what you want to do — is a more inspiring worldview to me than one that pre-supposes inadequacy and brokenness.  I don’t see how it is in service to anyone to keep them dependent and hopeless in an unending saga of so-called “healing.”

In relationships, the ability to say “I love you” and “I am sorry” are powerful actions that lead to better functioning.  The willingness to forgive and reconcile, or cut losses and start again, are also valuable actions that can create dynamic and positive change.  The ability to learn and change to improve is our birthright. Accept what can’t be changed, and take action for yourself to minimize the collateral damage.  Take action to change what you can.  It doesn’t have to be a long and protracted “healing” process, or a lightening bolt of transformation.  It is just living in a way that works.  The essence of all the world’s great religions and spiritual paths boils down to this.

At the moment, I believe our culture is stuck in defining and describing problems.  We understand more and more about the scope and size of our problems, and less and less about how to solve them.  Our focus on the problem makes us believe that the solution must be as big and all-encompassing as the problem seems to be.  As a result, people become less and less able, or willing, to take small steps to improve things on their own.  The solution is something that you don’t know yet.  You can learn it.  You may need help from someone else, but ultimately, you can find a solution.  There are some who are finding astonishing solutions to the world’s biggest challenges.  You can watch them speak on TED.com.  I think they are excellent inspiration for solution-seeking and innovation at every level.

Get on with it.  DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF.  Don’t keep defining yourself in terms of what is wrong, or what is not working.  Identify your strengths, even in the midst of trouble.  Ask for help if you need it — real help, in addition to support from friends and family. If someone won’t help you, keep looking. Find a doctor, find a group, find a friend. Draw strength from your faith.  As one pastor said, we will walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but we don’t have to pitch a tent there. What small action can you take to improve your situation?  Flee from the numbing psycho-faux-spiritual-babble that would keep you from expressing your fully-functioning personhood. THAT is healing.

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#reverb10 – Day 18 – Try

Posted on December 18, 2010 | 3 Comments

“Do or do not.  There is no try.”

Yoda in Star Wars utters a profound truth (which is why he is Yoda).  We’ve come to use the word “Try” to mean an attempt, or a mighty effort.  The subliminal connotation, however, is that that the attempt ended in failure.  ”Well, at least she tried.”  Depending upon which side you’re on, this failure can be trumpeted and exploited.  If the attempt is successful, you’ve no longer tried. You have done it.

Even more insidious in the use of the word “Try” is a judgment of others.  ”You never know until you try.”  ”You’re not even trying!”  ”She makes it look like she’s not even trying.”  Talk about the confusion of mixed messages?  How many of us get sucked into unwise actions because we were goaded to “try?”  And how many of us make our list of resolutions for each new year, filled with statements like “I’m going to try to lose weight.  I’m going to try to save money.  I’m going to try to find a better job.”  What does that even mean?  We set ourselves up for discouragement. We spend ourselves in useless exertion, and often end up with yet another invitation to feel bad about ourselves.

I’d like to reclaim this word, “try,” and shift to another legitimate meaning:  that is, “to sample.”  ”Try the fudge, won’t you?”  You take a little nibble of a dish, you “try this on for size,” you easily and gently experiment with a new action.  If you like or don’t the result, at least you have broadened your perspective, and enlarged your “database” of personal experiences.  The act of sampling something carries no baggage of self-condemnation or self-congratulation.  It’s merely a way of establishing a personal preference, or refining an action so that it can be performed at a higher level — that is, so that it works better.  You can actually PLAN an experiment, consisting of real actions.  Then, you can evaluate the outcome at each phase, and correct course if needed, to get closer to the outcome you want.  There is no failure, only information.   Suddenly, you’re not trying.  You are doing.

So much of what we “try” to do is bound up in our habitual patterns of thought, emotions, actions, stories, and reactions.  As Moshe Feldenkrais said, when we “try” and our primary motivation is to achieve something, we are not free to be creative, innovative, or to find a new and unexpected approach.  We just always do what we’ve always done.  Small surprise that the results are disappointing. Our muscles contract in unproductive and parasitic action, resulting in strain and injury.  A big part of the Method which bears his name, and which I practice, is to free oneself of those actions which are superfluous.  Noticing what you do when you “try” develops your awareness.  You, and I, can learn to do things differently.

Through a long process of experimentation, I have learned that my plans proceed much more smoothly when I don’t announce them prematurely. Revealing too much too soon can kill a good idea, or can stunt one’s ability to take action.  So this year, I’m going to experiment with keeping my plans to myself until they are ready to launch.  I’m going to experiment with floridly hallucinating the results I intend.  I’m going to experiment with taking small steps every day. I’m going to experiment with seeing everything as a grand experiment, and with staying curious to see what emerges.

[Today's prompt is provided by Kaileen Elise, one of the founders of #reverb10.
Prompt: Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn't go for it?

[Blogging each day this month in a creative production frenzy: I confess I have enjoyed the process.  The prompts from #reverb10 have been controversial, maddening, squirm inducing  -- and very valuable and effective nudges toward expression.]


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