My friend and I were sitting in Bryant Park recently, discussing the serious lack of fun in our lives. It dawned on both of us simultaneously that we were having fun at that very moment, but overlooking it in the search for something Really Fun. Given what I know about my love for fun, I was surprised at my own willingness to overlook the Little Fun, the Mundane Fun, and the Regular Fun in a quest for some big kind of Transcendental Fun or SuperGiantAwesome Fun.
And at that moment, in a very uncomfortable chair in a very crowded Bryant Park, I committed myself to a month of fun. Or, in the world of Kate, a Funth!
Every day for a month I am going to do something fun. It can either be wacky -- like a Thai Yoga Massage class (that, sadly, got cancelled on Sunday), or a viewing of Punderdome 3000 (a groan-inducing punning competition) -- or it can be simple, like the surprise of being able to talk to my friend while on the elliptical machine in the basement, or having a quiet brunch full of smoked salmon with a dear friend. There are no rules about the fun that is allowed to count, I just have to be intentional about it. And I have to have some every day.
And this reminds me: fun is a choice. I left the park that afternoon and found myself in my office, working on the same project I was tackling before lunch, but approaching it with a totally new attitude. More levity. More curiosity. More of a song in my heart.
In a way, my Funth is a continuation of the Year of Yes! (well, ok, the 14 months of yes) and in a way, it's a completely different project. During the YoY, I tried to imbue my life with different qualities, to see how they showed up in my actions. During the Funth, I am committing to taking action, to see how those actions impact my thinking. The YoY was inside out; the Funth is outside in.
And you're all invited. Anybody want to have some fun?
Six years ago I bought a rug off Craigslist. It was a perfect fit for my new apartment, square, wool, from IKEA, and only $150 -- and not hellaciously ugly or cheap-looking. I hopped on the bus, picked up the carpet, hopped back on the bus (garnering strange looks from the bus driver) and then plopped it down in my living room. I was never in love with the rug, but it fit perfectly and, like most furniture, would be harder to get rid of than to just keep forever.
So I kept it forever.
Last year I bought a couch from IKEA and they didn't have the grey slipcovers to match the rug and the room, so I bought the pink slipcovers that were on sale (only $9!), figuring I would come back to IKEA when the grey ones were back in stock.
So, yeah, my couch is still pink.
Long story short, over time I've come to see that I like the pink couch better than the black-and-white rug, so just last week I got a cute new carpet that matches better and is much more me. In the process, I've gotten rid of some furniture, moved some other pieces around, and more or less come to see my living room again for the first time. I see the floor differently. I see the sofa differently. I see so many things that I wasn't seeing because I had gotten so used to the room.
I know it's just stuff, but tweaking your stuff can have a profound impact on the way you see the world. I've been really conscious lately of trying to make my external space a reflection of who I am at my best (not at my laziest).
Another example:
The highlight of my living room is not, in fact, the pink sofa, but instead is a mirror that you can see from every room in my house. I love the mirror and consult it regularly to see if my outfit matches or if my eyebrows are too bushy. In the process of moving in my new carpet, I realized just how dirty my mirrors were, so I cleaned them. All of the mirrors in my house. And I was SHOCKED to see how different I looked after simply cleaning the mirrors. Angles were sharpened. Details appeared finer, more crisp. I saw more of everything, good and bad.
While this is a true story, it's also a metaphor. (And you don't have to pay extra for that, folks!) Fiona Apple says it well in her excellent song, Window:
"... the fact being that Whatever's in front of me Is covering my view So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact I only see what I'm looking through"
So I ask you, what are you taking for granted (like I took my living room)? What are you allowing to blur your vision (like the dust on my mirrors)? What do you need to do to shake things up just enough to be able to see your filters and realign them?
Most mornings I wake up at 6:45 and I get out of bed and do things in a pattern: I check my email, I meditate, I shower, I dress, I pack my lunch, and I leave by 7:30. I'm able to do this because, for the most part, I'm on auto-pilot. I know how much time each step takes, and like an unconscious little soldier, I make sure to get them done in their allotted minutes.
This works well to get me out of the door efficiently, but on weekends, when I have the morning to myself, I do things completely differently. I wake up and putz around, check my email, make some coffee, maybe shower, maybe meditate, it doesn't matter, there's really no pattern to it. Auto-pilot doesn't kick in, and the days are all very different.
Weekdays are efficient, and weekends are fun. Not news to just about every non-self-employed person out there, but I'm trying to find a way to split more of the difference.
Two years ago, I challenged myself to do things differently. (Read more about it here.) Part of the experiment was to get myself unstuck from some negative self-chatter habits that were making me miserable, and part of it was to wake myself up out of auto-pilot. While this was important for my relationship with myself, I'm finding it important in my relationships with others, too.
December is all about "newness" and one of the practices I'm bringing to the month is one I learned in my class at the School of Practical Philosophy (new semester starts in January): meeting others as if for the first time. The idea is to drop all our preconceived notions about others, to drop our expectations about how they will react, and to just meet them as if we knew nothing about them. I like this practice because expectations are really just a set up for disappointment, and when I meet people with an idea of how they'll treat me, they either prove me right or disappoint me. When I don't have that expectation, who knows what'll happen?
In the past I've found it easier to be more forgiving of strangers and people I'm meeting for the first time than it has been for people I've known my whole life. It was always comforting to believe that my sister would tell me what I wanted to hear when I called her, but I find it easier now just to not have that expectation and instead make myself as clear as possible. If I didn't know her, I wouldn't have the expectation, so it's only fair to treat her as well as I would treat a stranger, right?
If you can’t see or hear the video, I’ll break down for you what MichaelShore says about fun.
First, in his years of studying children, fun, and play (he is the President of Worldwide Consumer Insights at Mattel) he has come to understand fun as having ten different aspects.Each one is an important, but different, piece of the puzzle.
1.Freedom
This is any unstructured, voluntary activity that a child engages in.It’s essentially running around.There are few constraints and there is an immediacy to the fun.It’s about living in the moment.
2.I Dream
This is imaginative play in which children come up with possibilities and enjoy pretending.This kind of play can improve our language and social skills, and is also linked to resilience and delayed gratification.
3.I’m Special
This is the kind of play that is about luck or have the rules suspended in your favor.Staying up late, getting an extra ice cream cone, or otherwise getting some privilege is what this kind of fun is all about.
4.I Belong
This is all about acceptance into a larger group and cooperative play among kids.
5.I’m Wacky
Kids love being wacky!This is about delight, vitality, and goofiness.Shore says that the best way to make a toy wacky is by having it burp or fart.If it’s a pet, make it poop or pee.Wacky!
6.I Know
This is about exploration, accomplishment learning, and gaining mastery and control.
7.I’m Cozy
Even kids like to kick back, relax, and snuggle in.This is just about being comfortable and lazing around.
8.I’m Proud
This is about benevolence, defending others, nurturing others, and protecting one another.
9.I Stand Out
As kids get older they enjoy performing and expressing themselves more.This kind of fun is about identity, performance, and creativity.
10.I Dare
Shore says this is the kind of fun that kids would have a lot more of if there weren’t such a thing as consequences and getting caught.This is bold, defiant fun.It could be mischief, shenanigans or any other rule breaking.
In looking at all these different kinds of fun, I have to admit, they all sound pretty good to me.I’ve been trying to come up with the essential elements of fun for myself – what has to be in place for me to have fun? – and I’ve discovered that the biggest factor is willingness.Am I willing to have a good time?And if not, what do I need to get out of the way so that I can be willing to have fun?
Another TED presenter I listened to, Dr. Stuart Brown, says that if you’re feeling down, just get up and wiggle your body around.Jump up and down.Flail around.This kind of body play can really prep the mind for being able to have more fun.(So forgive me if I have more typos as I’m flinging myself around while I write this.)
One thing that seems to be missing for me in Shore’s list of 10 is the element of connection – not just belonging to a group, but really connecting to someone else on a very human level.Maybe it’s a little bit of all of them, or maybe it’s something that’s less important to kids.Or maybe it’s implied in the connection between the kid and the toy.But fun for me is hard to have without connection, either to my surroundings, someone else, or myself.
Think about things that you do that are fun: which elements are involved?Let’s say you love shopping.Is it the ability to go to whatever store you want and try on whatever you want that is fun?(Freedom)Is it imagining yourself at the ball wearing the gown you’re trying on that makes you smile?(I Dream)Or is it finding that chartreuse-and-puce argyle sweater that makes you squeal with joy?(I Stand Out or I’m Wacky)
If you’re down and not having fun, first, start wiggling, and then pick an aspect and try to live it up.Start dreaming.Join a group.Snuggle up with a good book.And see what happens.
"Creativity - like human life itself - begins in darkness." -- Julia Cameron -- author
"Creativity involves breaking out of established patterns in order to look at things in a different way." -- Edward de Bono -- psychologist
"Creativity is a natural extension of our enthusiasm." -- Earl Nightingale - entertainer
"Any activity becomes creative when the doer cares about doing it right, or better." -- John Updike -- author
"I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind." -- Albert Einstein -- physicist
2. Be Courageous
"An essential aspect of creativity is not being afraid to fail." -- Edwin Land -- inventor
"The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." -- Sylvia Plath -- author
"Artistic temperament sometimes seems a battleground, a dark angel of destruction and a bright angel of creativity wrestling." -- Madeleine L'Engle -- author
"Creativity can be described as letting go of certainties." -- Gail Sheehy -- author
"But out of limitations comes creativity." -- Debbie Allen -- actress
“When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.” – Cynthia Heimel -- writer
3. Be Expressive
"A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something." -- Frank Capra -- director
"Anxiety is part of creativity, the need to get something out, the need to be rid of something or to get in touch with something within." -- David Duchovny -- actor
“Every moment of your life is infinitely creative and the universe is endlessly bountiful. Just put forth a clear enough request, and everything your heart desires must come to you.” -- Mahatma Gandhi -- philosopher
“What is Art? It is the response of man's creative soul to the call of the Real.” – Rabindranath Tagore – poet
It's easy to think that creativity is limited to just artists. That it is some elusive force that you can't control, but can only tap into. That some people have it and other people don't. That there is an epic struggle that you must undergo to have creativity bestowed upon you. But after my creativity call this month, I came to the understanding that creativity is more about HOW you go about the things you do than WHAT exactly it is you go about.
1. Be aware
We defined creativity as doing something new, or doing something you've done before in a way you've never done it before. This creates new neuronal connections in your brain, and fills a very technical definition of creativity. (See more about this at my friend Gwen's blog here.) To create these connections, you could do something simple like brush your teeth with the non-dominant hand, or head to work via a route you don't normally take. This awkwardness or intentionality drives you to a greater sense of awareness of the present moment, and that awareness is an important part of creativity.
We talk about "flow" and being really absorbed in a creative process, be it writing a play or designing a business plan. And in this state the hours can fly by and you're not at all aware of your surroundings. (Some people (who are not me) can even ignore their bodies in this kind of flow and go without eating all day long.) So how is this flow (that ignores a rumbly tummy) an awareness of the present moment? It's by focusing intently on the work at hand -- the work in the present moment -- that our attention and awareness are drawn to the present.
2. Be expressive
There are two kinds of creativity -- the kind that stays in your head and goes unexpressed or unidentified (passive) and the kind that gets shared in some kind of medium like paint or song or words or business or your outfit (active). And you can be passively creative, solely experiencing your unique perspective on the world, or you can share that perspective with others. And it's this second kind of creativity that I think most people associate with the term "creativity."
It's kind of a tree-falls-in-the-forest situation; if you're creative without awareness or expression, are you really creative? Or are you on auto-pilot?
3. Be courageous
There are plenty of obstacles to being creative. Fear of rejection keeps plenty of people from sharing the passive creativity they enjoy in their own heads -- "oh, I can't paint that, they'll hate it." The worry that the creative project is not good enough, not creative enough, unacceptable, etc. keeps plenty of people from bringing their visions to light. And what about that nagging need to finish a project instead of allowing yourself to simply play creatively? Or the trials of being labeled as "the creative one" and having to live up to that? All of these things can be a tall order. That's why it's important to be both creative and curious with your creativity. Remove the rules that say there needs to be a finished product. Be brave enough to challenge your own notions of creativity -- that, in and of itself, is an act of creativity!
These are three simple things you can do to have more creativity in your life. Be aware, be expressive, be courageous. The steps you take in any of these directions don't have to be grand, either. I was hiking down a very slippery trail recently and found that the placement of my feet was incredibly creative -- my body was orienting itself to the trail without my conscious mind's involvement. And if I hadn't had the awareness in the present moment of what was happening, I might have missed it all together.
(And if I hadn't been expressive or courageous, you might have missed it, too!)
August was the month of “smarts, ideas for the sake of ideas, connection, words, and learning.”Qualities I condensed for the sake of brevity into the category of Mind.And by putting my mind on Mind, a very interesting thing happened in the universe around me.
I’ve always said that my ideal mate will be Smart, Funny, and Self-Aware.These are my dealbreakers.If you’re not smart, funny, and able to display a modicum of self-awareness, we’re not a match.And smart has meant a variety of different things over the years.Book smart, street smart, dorky, nerdy, incredible at whatever it is you do, brilliant, genius… any of these would be lovely.I don’t have a baseline requirement for smarts (no minimum IQ or SAT score) but I know smart when I talk to it.
During August, I met a couple of incredibly smart men.One was book smart and in the top of his field, one was a super-brainiac and a top percentile IQ/MENSA type, one was quick-witted and sharp.And yet not one of them was right.
My interaction with these men made me realize a couple of things:
First, any time someone makes a conversation out of how smart he is, that makes me wonder how smart he actually is.This was a good reminder, as I have periodically found myself making mention of dorky things I’ve done or smartypants facts about myself.(“I threw the curve on the freshman year vocabulary test!”“I did second year calculus in high school!”)Turns out?Totally unattractive!We know smart when we see it, not when we’re told all about it.It’s one thing to drop an accomplishment or two into the conversation, but if we’re talking about your application to MENSA and just how many tests you had to ace to get in, I might have to fall asleep a little.
Second, balance is key.Being on a date with someone who is smart without being funny is like going to a really long, boring lecture where the professor may or may not try to kiss you at the end.Similarly, going out with someone who is smart without being self-aware is like listening to a recording of Stephen Hawking – fascinating, but after a while you want to turn the documentary off and talk about something stupid like Spongebob Squarepants or farts.
People – especially people we date and don’t choose – are excellent mirrors for us.I learned from these dates how important it is to also be modest, to listen well, to revel in what makes you happy (even if that’s nerdiness) but to always make sure you’re reaching out to the other person.Making a connection.Because you can only date alone in your mind.
Often, when I'm working on these different months, I don't know what the month is really about until it's almost over. And that was true with July. I started out thinking it was about sensuality, and about living in and enjoying my senses. But I realized that spending time focusing on my senses was really bringing me into the present moment. When I was chewing on that fig and goat cheese combo, I couldn't be thinking about how I was going to finish writing my class on time. When I was feeling the wind in my hair, I wasn't obsessing over when I was going to get my laundry done. And when I was hearing my nephew laugh, I was only thinking about how I could get him to do that some more. (Answer? Peek-a-boo. That kid's an addict.)
Living in the present moment when you're a really thinky person like I am, is a challenge. For years I have told myself this story about how my mind and my intellect make me funny and awesome. So I don't tamp down my brain because, according to the story, doing so would make me less funny and less awesome. I've resisted meditation. I've struggled with any definition of self that leaves out the mind. I list "smart" as one of my best qualities. Because, in fact, I think my brain's kinda sexy!
Recently, though, a teacher of mine explained meditation differently. She said that meditation wasn't about getting rid of your mind, it's about letting it rest. When I'm not calling on it to perform -- or rather, when I'm not rewarding it with my attention for performing -- it will take a break. And I can just rest in the peace and quiet. And I can feel the air conditioning on my legs. I can hear the thrum of the traffic outside. I can smell the barbecue wafting in through the window. I don't have to jump through hoops of worry. I don't have to repeat song lyrics or plan the day. I can just be here now and relax.
When I started the Year of Yes (well, ok, the 14 months of yes), I assigned the months to the qualities randomly (using Excel, because I'm a dork). Because of the way things are turning out, the month of Presence is being followed by the month of Mind. August is all about mental pursuits, the delight of ideas for the sake of ideas, and generally pushing myself to new perceptions. I've picked up a book that I think will be appropriate -- Change Your Brain, Change Your Life. And I'm looking for good lectures and learning opportunities.
At the same time that I'm fascinated by pushing my brain to new limits, I also want to retain what I've learned about presence so that I'm thinking only when I choose to. So that I'm the boss of my mind, not the other way around. I want to drive the mental bus and not just be some random passenger in a mental version of Speed. (Because if my mind the bus, what the hell is Keanu Reeves? Riddle me that one, fancy brain!)
I'm halfway through the 14 Months of Yes and am finding that there are really two types of months to be had in this experiment -- cerebral ones and practical ones. The cerebral ones are easier to dive deeply into, since I have to think about the quality, unravel it, and really roll around in it before I can apply it to my life. Wisdom, Passion, Grace, and Surrender were incredibly think-y months for me, and it was easy to get wrapped up in them.
The practical months, however, are where I get to just go out and DO more of something than I normally get to do. Risk and Generosity were practical months, and this month, Sensuality, is about aliveness and the five senses and living-in-the-moment-ness. I am working to smell and taste and hear things more than I normally do. Taking time to re-connect with nature and the connections around me so that I can really feel alive.
I'm discovering, though, that when I'm most in the present moment, most in a sense of flow, I barely notice my five senses at all. For example, I was teaching all last week at our company's distribution center in New Jersey, and, as you may recall, it's been a hot week. When I was in front of the room, though, I had almost no concept of temperature. I was so focused on communicating the message to the learners in the room that I almost didn't feel my body at all. And at the end of the day? I was totally exhausted. (And it was 80 degrees in the room -- something my learners definitely noticed!)
Also, the hotel in which we were working (and I was staying) smelled awful. I mean, it smelled like someone barfed in the lobby and then tried to cover up the smell by spilling a bottle of cough syrup on the stain. And while I was teaching? Didn't notice it. As soon as I was done? Brutal.
In my philosophy class we talked about how important it is to focus your energy on the surface of whatever work you're doing, as a way to settle your mind and bring your attention to the present moment. So if you're typing, think about where you fingers hit the keys. If you're reading, stay aware of the page in front of you. If you're doing the dishes, focus on the dishes. And if you're teaching, focus on the space between you and the students. It's another way to sharpen your attention and keep your mind on the work that needs to be done. It also makes it easier to slip into that present moment.
I tried it with running the other day and it works wonders there, too. Focusing on how and where my feet hit the sidewalk took my mind off of all the other blah-blah-blah that was happening in my head. It made running more immediate (and, what's more important more tolerable). I'm doing it now as I type. I did it last night, as I flirted at a bar. It's a conscious effort to acknowledge that space and stay in the moment. I highly recommend it!
Fifty one weeks ago, I went to Midsummer Night's Swing at Lincoln Center on a date. I had always wanted to go, and that night they were teaching the hustle, which (as far as I could tell) seemed fairly harmless. It was a second or third date, so I knew the guy a little, but not terribly well, and I was a little concerned about looking like an idiot.
I'm not a great dancer. I'm very white, and I think I might lack a joint or two. But I love to move. Aerobics? Yes, please. Running? Sure, why not. Kickboxing? You bet! So dancing is something I've wanted to do ever since I moved to the city, and (can you believe it?) I've never really been.
So my date (who, I discovered later, LOVED to dance, and probably would have hustled the hell out of the night) wandered around the periphery of the dance floor with me, and we never bought tickets. We mildly shook our booties and kindasorta hustled, but there was really no dancing to speak of.
Had he gone there without me (which, for the record, he wouldn't have), I feel confident that he would have bought a ticket and danced. And I envied him that.
Fast forward 51 weeks. It's Midsummer Night's Swing again, only this time that date is no longer in the picture. I've invited a number of friends to join me for the evening, but none are available. So I go again, this time all by myself. Because I want to be the kind of person who, when she finds herself faced with something she has always wanted to do, doesn't require an escort.
And that same embarrassment, that same reluctance to get up there and move my body crept back in. The gremlin inside kept saying awful things like, "Don't go out there; everyone will know you're alone. They'll wonder why you have no friends. They'll pity you. It's safer to stay off the dance floor. Save your $20. Just go home. You came to the event. That counts. Now just leave."
For easily 15 minutes, I wandered around Damrosch Park, watching the guy give a dance lesson, watching everyone have fun trying to do 80's hip-hop moves (which most of them really couldn't) and envying them. Why couldn't I just get in there and do it, too?
Finally, after WAY more agony than was required, I bought my ticket, checked my bag, and got on the dance floor.
I want to say it felt triumphant, but really, it didn't.
I'm glad I got over my anxiety, I'm glad I put the notch in my belt, and I'm glad that I showed myself that I can do things alone. But I'm also willing to recognize that there are some things that are just more fun when done with people you know or care about. And I think dancing to 80's covers while avoiding the flailing limbs of people even whiter than you might just be one of those things.
“Gracefulness has been defined to be the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul” William Hazlitt
"Grace is the absence of everything that indicates pain or difficulty, hesitation or incongruity.” William Hazlitt
“I want peace. I want to see if somewhere there isn't something left in life of charm and grace.” – Margaret Mitchell
“I do not at all understand the mystery of grace - only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.” – Anne Lamott
“You are so weak.
Give up to grace.
The ocean takes care of each wave
till it gets to shore.” – Rumi
“To be able to live peaceably with hard and perverse persons, or with the disorderly, or with such as go contrary to us, is a great grace.” -Thomas À Kempis
“We're all stumbling towards the light with varying degrees of grace at any given moment.” -Bo Lozoff
“All men who live with any degree of serenity live by some assurance of grace.” -Reinhold Niebuhr
"Whatever we are waiting for - peace of mind, contentment, grace, the inner awareness of simple abundance - it will surely come to us, but only when we are ready to receive it with an open and grateful heart." Sarah Ban Breathnach
And some thoughts from Will & Grace
"Coulda, shoulda, Prada!"
"You say potato, I say vodka."
"It's the oldest story in the book. Boy meets girl. Boy wants girl to do dominatrix film. Girls says, "Naked?" Boy says, "Yeah." Girl says, "No way." Boy says, "Okay how about you just wear this rubber dress and beat this old guy with a scrub brush?" Girl says, "How hard?""
I learned a number of things about grace on the call this month, not the least of which is that I'm not the only one who struggles with the definition of grace being religious, or being hinged on god or some other higher power. (I was hoping some of my more religious friends and family would join in, but, alas, they were sorely missed.)
I chose to adopt one caller's understanding of the Buddhist perspective on grace, which she summed up as "being ok in the moment with things just the way they are now." That simple definition became the building block on which we anchored much of the later discussion.
As we talked, we decided that "being ok" wasn't quite thorough enough, and we identified other qualities that must be present in order for grace to arrive: awareness, mindfulness, acceptance, love, gratitude, and authenticity. Because authenticity is such a strong value of mine, I discovered that part of why I have seen grace as "living in alignment with my values" is simply because grace requires me to be authentic. It's kind of a chicken-and-the-egg thing. Was I authentic first, and then grace descended? Or was grace descending, and I authentically met it?
When we are out of grace, we are in more of a reactionary and less of a responsive place. Which, if you think about the dancer metaphor from the earlier post, makes sense. Reacting is all elbows and stomping; responding is flow and acceptance. We also realized that there is no such thing as too much grace, or negative grace. Sure, there's the condescending form of the verb ("he graced us with his presence") but we kept that benediction synonym out of the discussion.
We looked at the three graces in Greek mythology -- the goddesses of charm, beauty, and creativity. (Not an in depth look, mind you. Just one that was charming, beautiful, creative, and short.)
We looked at the i-Ching and what it has to say about grace, namely that it is a vision of possible perfection, and that in the state of grace one should look within and enjoy the pleasure of being in a pretty perfect place. However, there should be no grasping of that vision or perfection. Grace is kind of like that bright shiny thing in the Abyss -- you can't force it, it only comes when you're ready. And bad things might happen if you try to force it.
We also looked at purpose, and how purpose relates to grace. I feel, in many ways, that it is my purpose on earth to help people find their own ways to grace. To experience that acceptance, love, authenticity, flow, and general well-being that accompanies grace. The danger, though, as warned by the i-Ching is that the state of grace should not be shaped into something else. That it is meant only to be what it is, and nothing more.
Except, maybe, a short little piece about what I learned...
I've been thinking about people who have the ability to move through space with agility and not crash into things. Or people who can take a dance class and not look like a robot made entirely out of elbows. Or people who glide rather than stumble. Or people who can employ their bodies in such a way as to enhance their appeal rather than just dragging them along because they're stuck in them.
And I've noticed some similarities between those graceful people and people who are full of grace. (The other kind.)
1. Graceful people stretch.
It's not sheer luck that those glidey folks have a strong relationship with their bodies. Many of them work on that connection regularly, and part of that is stretching. Reaching past themselves towards others, or towards greater fulfillment. Or simply reaching out, away from themselves.
2. Graceful people don't flail.
I'm noticing my tendency to emotionally flail. So much so in the last few days that I'm getting exhausted by it. One day things seem perfect, the next they seem to have fallen into the toilet, and there's only my bare hand to pull them out. To fill myself with grace, I have to curb this tendency. I'm struggling with it (which is causing its own flailing, no doubt), but am finding that focusing on the present moment and letting go of judgments, shoulds, and other thoughts is helpful.
3. Graceful people have terrific alignment.
This is, to me, the core of the non-moving-around grace. It's finding an alignment between what I believe, what I value, what I love, and what I do. When I'm in that place, my metaphorical vertebrae are perfectly stacked on top of each other. When I bend over backwards or contort myself out of my "natural" state, I lose my grace.
4. Graceful people can choose to look ungraceful.
Grace is about choice. I can choose to live in alignment, or I can choose to allow myself to get out of whack. (Though, truth be told, I'm a little out of whack at the moment and it does NOT feel like a choice. So I have sympathy for those who say it's not a choice, while still believing it is. In fairness, I'm not always sure how to choose it.)
5. Graceful people star in movies with Fred Astaire.
6. Graceful people radiate light.
They make it easy to be around them. They will adapt to the circumstances with ease and flexibility (because they stretch) and they shine.
In both senses of the word, I aspire to have more grace.
It's a new month, which means a new set of qualities to explore; this time it's Grace, Transcendence, Presence, Patience, Honor, Peace, or, for the purposes of simplicity, Grace.
Now, I'm clumsy. I bruise easily, and sometimes act like a cat with its whiskers cut. It also just so happens that falling down is a family pastime, so when I say "grace," I'm not talking about the ability to move through space without bumping into things. Nor am I looking at the kind of grace you "say" while sitting around a table drooling over your mashed potatoes. I'm looking at something more internal, something quiet and gentle that combines the human/alive elements of presence and patience with the spiritual pieces of peace and transcendence.
Many people see grace as having a relationship with god or some other higher power. And to some extent I agree with those people -- any time I connect with the best qualities in myself, I feel like I'm aligning with the best parts of the universe. But for me, the experience of grace is very personal and is very much within my own ability to control. When I speak or act with heart, I feel grace. When I live in alignment, I feel grace. When I rely on the fortitude of my own convictions, I feel grace.
A lot of my definition of grace as a quality has been shaped by a play a friend of mine wrote that I saw performed a couple of years ago. Simply titled "Grace," my friend Sara Thigpen's play was one of the most beautiful and moving pieces of theatre I've seen in a long time. Though many of the details of the storyline escape me (all these years later) I remember seeing situations that called on women in difficult positions to soldier through -- but to do so delicately, carefully, lovingly. The play was so full of genuine care, love, and dedication, it made me want to know those women, to have them care for me. And that's the kind of energy I want to put out there in the world.
An old boyfriend of mine once told me he felt I was the tree under which he could take off his skin and sit in the shade of my love. And that feels like grace. The creating of a safe place, a shelter, a haven; I think those take grace.
Grace takes optimism and effort. It takes alignment and intention. And I'm excited to give those this month to find out more about it.
The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind.- Kahlil Gibran
You can tell whether a man is clever by his answers. You can tell whether a man is wise by his questions.- Naguib Mahfouz
Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something. - Plato
Without courage, wisdom bears no fruit.- Baltasar Gracian (I have no idea who this person is, but I like that his name looks suspiciously like "Battlestar Galactica")
A short saying often contains much wisdom.- Sophocles (very meta, that Sophocles.)
It is characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.- Henry David Thoreau
The great teachings unanimously emphasize that all the peace, wisdom, and joy in the universe are already within us; we don't have to gain, develop, or attain them. We're like a child standing in a beautiful park with his eyes shut tight. We don't need to imagine trees, flowers, deer, birds, and sky; we merely need to open our eyes and realize what is already here, who we really are -- as soon as we quit pretending we're small or unholy.- Bo Lozoff (again... sounds like a phony name to me, but I really like the quote)
By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest. - Confucius
Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom. - Thomas Jefferson
What do you come up with? It's an interesting twist on the question of what makes up wisdom. This month, as I've been looking at wisdom, I've discovered there are times that I'm wise, and times I'm more of a wise-ass. The difference involves self-awareness, temperance, and pacing.
So, When I am wise, I:
-- have respect for myself.
This includes setting boundaries, acting in such a way as to have no regrets, and doing for myself what I want others to do. This means not playing the victim or waiting for someone to rescue me.
-- am deliberate, but not overwrought.
I focus on the actions I decide to take, but don't obsess over them. I am clear in my thinking, grounded in my sense of self, and slow down a bit. Often my first instincts are wise, but for me the wiser path is to look at them a little bit first.
-- am loving.
I had the opportunity recently to celebrate the birthday of someone I care about deeply. And while our friendship has been rocky and gone through the wringer a couple of times in the last year, I decided it was important (for both of us) to just show up and love him. Not Gone With the Wind or Wuthering Heights love, but open-hearted, soul-filling love. I set boundaries, was deliberate, and just opened my heart. It was one of the most beautiful days ever.
So May's theme is wisdom, and the tricky part for me about this month is where to start. How on earth do I describe wisdom? It's one of those know-it-when-I-see-it-(or-experience-it) things. I started out thinking it was knowledge and experience, but it's more than that. There's a depth to the knowledge and experience, and a peace to it, too, that makes wisdom the valuable quality it is. The dictionary defines wisdom as "knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action." I like that because it combines a way of knowing with a way of being. It tells me that a wise person doesn't just sit up on a mountaintop thinking wise thoughts. She makes wise decisions and lives through wise actions.
I'm taking a philosophy class at the School of Practical Philosophy, which I highly recommend, and we're studying happiness. One of the keys to happiness, the curriculum argues, is wisdom.
So this week in class we talked about the Platonic Virtues, those qualities Plato said are essential to any society's happiness and prosperity. He breaks them down into "divine" virtues and "human" virtues and says that if you go after the divine ones, you'll get the human ones as part of the bargain. However, if you go only for the human ones (without the divine ones), you won't get any of them. (Bummer, right?)
The divine virtues are Wisdom, Temperance, Justice, and Courage. The human virtues are Health, Beauty, Strength, and Wealth. And I can see his point. If we go for beauty with no thought for wisdom or temperance, we'll end up with tv shows like The Swan or little girls who get forced into beauty pageants too young. If we go for strength without wisdom, we get, well, Arnold Schwartzenegger. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)
Having completed a month on risk, I feel I'm a step ahead in the wisdom category, as I'm already well practiced with courage. And courage is a huge part of wisdom -- being courageous enough to take "right action."
All of this is well and good, but what am I actually DOING to practice wisdom? I'm trying to live fully in the moment and make decisions I won't regret. Sometimes they take a lot more effort than I want to expend at the time, but so far it's really felt worth it. Because if I can live a whole month with no regrets... what a month!
Join me next Sunday, May 22nd at 4pm for a discussion on wisdom! Just call 712.775.7100 and use the participant passcode of 500681# to join.
The month of Risk is over, and what a great month it was! Here are a smattering of the risks I took, and why they were risky:
1. Setting clear boundaries with a date -- eek! he might not like me!
2. Going to an OA meeting -- yikes! I might have food issues!
3. Starting a friendship with someone I previously had a crush on -- oh no! I might get hurt!
4. Cutting off all my hair -- ack! I might look so stupid that nobody would ever ask me out again!
Needless to say, one of the things I learned about risk is that it is incredibly personal. What's risky for me could be a walk in the park for you, and vice versa. Also, what's risky for me at this point in my life could, at some other point, have been no great shakes.
Enter my mom.
When I asked her about risk, my mom told me about the risks she took when she moved to New York in the 60's. She had a degree in journalism from Northwestern University and moved to the city completely alone looking for a job writing advertising. (Can you say "Mad Men"?) And, unbeknownst to my mother, the way a woman got a job as a writer in those days was to take a job as a secretary and then get promoted to a writer's position. But my mom a) didn't know that, and b) didn't want to be a secretary. So when she was offered a couple of secretarial positions, she turned them down flat. She was, finally, offered a writing position at an agency, but not before going through several interviews. Had she known at the time what was "expected," she told me, she never would have done anything quite so risky. But what I love about it is how courageous and forthright she was. She wanted what she wanted and went after it the only way she knew how. Risk or no risk.
Another friend told me that "risk is risk the way gravity is gravity, but you may not feel it until you experience the effects." And I'll be honest -- the effects ranged from "meh" to "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahimgonnadieijustknowit!" But there was a consistent dedication I felt in pursuing all my risks; I was doing it for the greater good of the Kate. And that made facing down the fear all the more bearable.
It was an exciting and mind-bending month; I HIGHLY recommend an experiment like this one!
About ten years ago, I was working with a therapist who, after a couple of sessions where I talked about my relationship with food, suggested I go to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting, just to see if it would help.
And the minute she said it, every single cell in my body revolted. I wanted to die. There was absolutely NO WAY I would go to one of those meetings. Never. Ever. Not in a million years, not if you gave me a million dollars. Never. Not if the room was full of hot, eligible bachelors. Not if it meant I would never overeat again. If I happened to be running down the hall of a burning building and the only way out was through an OA meeting, I'd burn up with the industrial carpeting. Not. A. Snowball's. Chance. In. Hell.
A simple suggestion, one that I could take or discard, and my whole essence was ready to drop a very small, very targeted nuclear bomb on the sweet, dear therapist who mentioned the idea.
Needless to say, ten years passed, and my relationship with food has remained interesting.
When I feel good about myself, food is my nourishment. When I feel bad, it's my comfort. And I think that's pretty "normal." But since I don't see anyone else eat, and can't get inside the heads of other eaters, I have no idea whether my relationship is dysfunctional or not. However, some part of me desperately fears that it is. Otherwise I wouldn't be willing to burn up with the carpeting.
So, last week, in honor of the Year of Yes! (well, ok the fourteen months of yes) and in an exploration of Risk, I went. And it was scary. And it was awkward. And the building had some truly horrid industrial carpeting. But what's most important is that I made it out the other side. Was I like some of the women in that room? Yes. We all had tricky relationships with food. Was I not like some of the women in that room? Yes. And for privacy reasons I won't say why.
What I was afraid of was the label. I was afraid of admitting that my relationship with food might have been "abnormal" or "dysfunctional" which would, by association, make me a failure. Yes, it was that simple. If I went to a meeting of people who had trouble controlling their eating and found I was like them in any way, I was a failure.
I'm pleased that I went, and I'm incredibly proud of myself for facing that silly little fear that's been holding me back for ten years. Will I go again? Not to that particular meeting. I'll try another one, just to see, but I don't particularly care for the 12 Step model.
So I'll throw it out to you: what are you afraid of? What one thing does your whole body create a violent reaction to when you consider doing it? And if you could do it safely, what would it take for you to do it?
I headed out the door today to a yoga class feeling nervous. What if I looked like an idiot? What if I did everything wrong? What if I was that loud, obnoxious, nervous person who laughs at everything, only because she's nervous? What if everyone there knew each other and my showing up meant that someone who regularly takes the class wouldn't be able to get in and then everyone in the room would be angry at the new girl who ruined everything?
Welcome to my fears. You can see how going to yoga was a risk for me today.
Dictionary.com defines risk as "exposure to the chance of injury or loss; a hazard or dangerous chance." And that's what I was facing at yoga class. I might lose my sense of myself as a "cool" person -- not that there's much there to lose, honestly, but I tend to cling to those shreds tightly. I might face danger in a room full of angry, experienced students who resent my intrusion. And, more likely than any of the others, I might get stuck in a backward bend with the heels of my feet stuck to my ribcage and not be able to get up ever again.
I'm a confident (and flexible) person, so I knew these catastrophic eventualities were unlikely. I was headed to the YMCA, not The Studio for Professional Yogis Only, for crying out loud, and it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Most regulars were probably in the park.
Because I was willing to risk looking stupid, because I was willing to face the hostility of an imagined clique, and because I could delineate these threats beforehand, I could see that I was taking a risk. And recognizing that I'm willing to risk metaphorical sticks and stones hurtled at my being makes me realize how much stronger I am than I think. And how much more I could do if I just let myself believe.
So here's my challenge for you: what's something that you've wanted? Something you've been jonesing for but have allowed small risks to stand in your way? Go and do it. Have it. Be it. Take the risk. It might fail miserably, but at least that way you'll know.
(And for the record, while the heels of my feet did almost touch my ribcage, they didn't get stuck there, and I felt so well-cared-for at the yoga class, I want to become a regular myself!)
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