Joy, Integrity and Truth

I went to a talk last week given by Bill Grace, the founder of The Center for Ethical Leadership. I’ve had contact with this group before, having worked with them on the Youth Against Violence initiative a couple of years ago (which I wrote about here), but I’ve never had a chance to meet Bill or hear him speak. It was an interesting evening, a discussion of ethical leadership and the need for individuals to access their core values in order to guide their personal journey into leadership. Toward the end of the evening Bill led us through an exercise that would highlight these values for each of us. From a list of 20-30 words we were asked to select the top 10 that resonated for us. From there we had to narrow to 5, then 3. The list I ended up with surprised me. It was late in the evening; I was tired and didn’t want to think too much about the exercise … which is probably the best way to tackle it. I just went with my initial gut, even when my gut was like, “ugh, joy? really? joy is one of your top 3 values? so soft” Yet when I put the 3 values together I was able to see a complete picture of who I am; they created the space in which I set my passions. Between these three words I can weave all sorts of stories and past histories and personal challenges.

Joy embodies all that makes life beautiful. It carries the spirit of thanks and gratitude, an expression of creation and fulfillment. Joy brings the circle around to completion; it is an act of appreciation and awe. I think of the song we sing as we exit mass on Christmas eve, Joy to the world … let heaven and nature sing. Being joyful comes so naturally in children and it’s something to emulate as adults. When my son is joyful, which he was this morning as we walked to school, he skips and sings and twirls around. He runs up to the other kids and giggles and says ‘oh hi!’ He is the first at the door waiting for the teacher and runs up the steps, pulling his jacket off as he goes. Witnessing joy is contagious. It holds within itself peace and grace and all things that make life good.

Integrity is something I certainly value but it never occurred to me that it was one of my values. Are my words aligned with my actions? Are my thoughts aligned with my true self? When I am in sync with myself, aligned from the inside out, all systems are go. I can feel this buzzing that resonates with the world around me. It’s like the barrier of my skin no longer keeps me separate from everything else; there is a merging with my environment that feels like prayer. These moments are strung out along the timeline of my life, certainly not a constant state of being. Maintaining that kind of integrity is a challenge, but I like to think it’s a spectrum, with the hovering, buzzing days as the pinnacle of enlightenment. This isn’t a place you can live, but you can strive for it every day.

Truth really struck me as an odd choice as a value because I don’t believe in an absolute truth. Placing truth as a value seems like a slippery slope. I don’t believe there is one right answer and some of us have it and others just need to be brought around. I think of truth as a splintered prism of light: we each have a piece of it and together these truths create a framework of humanity. Being aware of your own truth and being true to yourself takes a lot of courage. Speaking your truth, being authentic and living with intention is another value I struggle with and try to bring into being every day. “I hold these truths to be self evident” is the same as saying This I Believe, which is really a challenge to illuminate your values. A full circle, again. It’s liberating when you look at the core of what you hold as truth in your heart. And once you’ve arrived at that place, it is divine to begin living it, speaking it, and acting on it.

So after writing all this down and puttering about in the space created between these values, a friend sent me the following video of Brene Brown (whom I’ve also written about here before). I just found it to be such lovely timing, to hear from Brene directly about vulnerability and see some of the same values highlighted in her research findings. What strikes me about all of this, particularly in rereading the posts I highlight here, is that I *know* this. I am saying the same things over and over again. What will it take for me to move my voice outward and begin the journey?

Enjoy.

My summer went something like this ...

Install hardwood on main floor. Move refrigerator, dishwasher and stove into kitchen. Hook up washer and dryer.

Lay carpet upstairs. Begin to unpack and put away clothes and toiletries.

Make several trips to IKEA and Home Depot. Install new light fixtures and find ways to organize in our new space.

Finally get the internet connected.

Get the previous owners to come back and remove their broken down van and hot tub from the backyard.

Celebrate Slade's birthday. Celebrate father's day. Celebrate my birthday.

Meet our new neighbors at a summer kickoff bbq and set up playdates with the kids across the street.

Find and visit our new pediatrician.

Step into the VP board position at ArtsEd Washington.

Set up a date night to see Titanic at Roosevelt High School. 

Bring in all remaining furniture from the garage.

Enroll Liam in a co-op preschool down the street.

These things all happened in the first 2 months of living here. We were rockin'. We were on the cusp of getting this place whipped into shape and I was enjoying feeling settled in after 3 months of packing, renovating and moving.

And then Fourth of July weekend: I take a pregnancy test and the universe stops moving. I proceed to spend the next 10 weeks in my pajamas, eating crackers and napping 3 hours a day while caring for an increasingly energetic 2 year old and moaning about how much I hate being pregnant (i really hate being pregnant and all i could find to be thankful for was that this is the last time i will be pregnant)

This week it started to rain. I couldn't be happier. I pulled out our boots and fleece jackets. Summer is over and I'm not puking anymore. Fall is good. I am thankful for Fall.

Let me be like Maude

Let me throw my most prized possession into the middle of a lake so I’ll always know where it is. Let me know that things will only be meaningful in my mind and my heart, not in my hand.

Last week my sister and I traveled back to Montana to spend Memorial Weekend with my 90 year old grandparents. The whole family went back, a planned visit when we could all be there, in order to go through their house and divvy up ‘stuff’ in preparation for their move to an assisted living facility. Problem was, Grandfather is in early stage dementia and had forgotten he’d planned this weekend, so we arrived like vultures picking meat off of the bones of a still living animal. He became sullen and angry, my mother got into an argument with her mother that ended with both of them in tears and my grandmother storming into her room and locking her door. Delightful. Meanwhile, the rest of us got into the scotch and watched Liam ride a cane around the house like a wooden horsey.

Let me remember as I age to begin parting with cherished items as I go: to children and grandchildren, my jewelry, my plates, and to friends and neighbors, shoes that don’t fit, handbags no longer necessary. Let me remember not to place too much importance on the material item. My mother just said to me today that her sister is getting all of the items that had belonged to Uncle Carl. She said, ‘Uncle Carl was just my favorite. He was grandmother’s favorite brother and I just loved him. He was my favorite. And I’m not going to get anything of his to remind me of him”. So without the ‘stuff’ (that she's never owned or had in her own home to see every day) she won’t be able to remember him? It becomes more competition between siblings, more proof of favoritism, more fodder for hurt feelings. There’s this little voice inside saying, “I want it I want it I want it” which sounds childish and feels wronged. I experienced it while I was there. I could feel the pull of the undercurrent, taunting me that I wasn’t going to get anything if I didn’t speak up. I took some time to walk through the house looking at everything with the eyes of wanting and I could see a few things that I wouldn’t mind having. But I also felt the deep pain of a losing game : as soon as I became invested in wanting something I was setting myself up for getting hurt by not getting it. I started repeating in my head, ‘I have everything I need already. I am so lucky. I have everything I need and more already.’

Much easier in theory than practice, but practice will help. After these visits with my grandparents I become absorbed with thoughts of how to age gracefully; how to let go of the things I could once do, the things I once had, while watching the younger ones soar into the height of their energy and success. How do I cultivate joy in passing the baton to the next generation? How can I be more like Maude?

Taking a break ...

I'm stepping away from my goal of posting once a week, just for awhile.
We bought the hoarder house and are in demo and renovation mode.
Here's what the living room looked like when we got the keys on Tuesday:

 And here's what it looked like 4 days later:

No doors, no floors, no railings. There is a hole in the master bedroom floor into the kitchen and the french doors in the master bedroom have been pulled out. We have drywall guys and painter guys and carpeting guys and furnace guys all coming around to give quotes ... we have a large hole in the hallway closet, pictured above, that is filled with rat poop. We have 2.5 weeks to move in. That's right, 2.5 weeks before we hand over our current house keys to the new tenant.

Beyond the fear and stress of the house though, I have to say I am more and more excited about the new neighborhood. It was a beautiful afternoon yesterday, all the cherry blossom trees were dropping pink petals and kids were running out to meet Liam. Neighbors were streaming over to greet us and tell us how great the block is and how happy they are to see us. I keep telling myself "you can fix the house, you can't fix the neighborhood", and I think we lucked out. Right now I'm busy researching stair railings and packing up the house, so blogging will either be an afterthought or a place to document some of this change. I'll be back later this Spring/early Summer!

Eating Crow

My acupuncturist has advised me to eat some meat.

• She told me she didn't eat meat for 14 years and found there was a cumulative effect of poor health, nothing she noticed right away or on its own.
• She urged me to think about how the human body is built, that our teeth and digestive systems are designed to eat flesh.  
• She pointed out that there are benefits from meat, occasionally and in small amounts, that we can't get from other sources.
• She also talked with me about the climate we live in, and during these cold, wet months our bodies need to eat warmth in order to flourish.
• She provided me with a hand out, told me it was of course my decision, but she'd been down this path and really felt I should reconsider.

So, here I am, in limbo. Once you make the statement "I don't think meat will ever be a part of my diet again", whaddya do? It's not that I haven't had meat at all. There were some occasions over the holidays, a little turkey here, a little pot roast there. I didn't claim to be a strict vegetarian, but I was making more intentional choices around consuming meat, and for me that meant little to none.

I suppose, on a very basic level, I’m struggling with death and my contribution to the cycle of life. When I say that not eating meat allows me to feel that “I'm living my convictions, eating with empathy and thoughtfulness", I’m talking about honoring life. I'm grappling with whether its true that being of the human race makes me a carnivore. I do know that by just being alive I’ve benefited from death, ashes to ashes and all that.

Many themes of death and renewal for me right now, appropriately in the midst of Lent. The discussion of death always bring me back to evaluating ritual and prayer in my life. I'm still not sold on eating much, if any, meat, but I can at least make a re-commitment to ritual and prayer: if something died in order that I should live, I give thanks.

Mama's Got a Brand New Bag

While following Susan Wagner's What I'm Wearing pictures (addicted really, she's adorable, I love the cocked camera in the mirror, it's hard to look away) I came across her article about taking stock of what's in the closet. I was inspired. I knew there were some maternity pants lurking in the back and a few awkward sweaters my well meaning mother had given me for Christmas. I tried everything on. I was brutal, tossing things that I really thought I'd figure out how to make look good on my body someday, as well as shoes that I just love but have always given me blisters. But here's the twist: I added a step to Susan's instructions and included a clothing exchange party with some girlfriends. While I ate cheese and drank wine I watched the things that never worked on me take on new life.

oh that's how it's supposed to look

super cute as a preggo jacket!

It was such a fun afternoon, I highly recommend it. (And I actually didn't get a bag, I just liked the title. I did however get a coupla great sweaters, black flats and a cute red sundress which was a hit at my niece's 1st birthday party earlier this month.) We ended up with two or three hefty bags full of clothing to take to Goodwill, a bag for consignment and a special bag of formal wear and jewelry to donate to The Ruby Room. And we each walked away with a few choice pieces to add back in to the closet at home.

My closet feels streamlined and it's been a lot easier to get dressed in a hurry (which is the only way I get dressed now). There was some initial doubt about getting rid of a few items - nothing is more telling than watching a girlfriend try something on and say, this is cute! to make you feel that mine!mine! emotion. This is the very same emotion I'm watching develop in Liam (sans the pushing part) and it reminded me that although it's a human response, it is one we can mature beyond. Letting go and sharing, giving away and giving back, are all a part of our individual journey toward enlightenment (yep. i said enlightened. through closet purging) Being able to enjoy others appreciation for my stuff-that's-just-stuff, and really delight in seeing them shine in something that I could never make shine, was fascinating. It was liberating to let things go. Cleaning my closet was a very real-time, tangible lesson in taking a deep breath and letting go. Our possessions can become a part of the background, and when we stop seeing them, we stop appreciating them. Clearing out the clutter does more than open space in our closets and cupboards; it can freshen up the vista outside your window and open the door for something entirely new to enter your life.

(cue Babs)

What to do for Japan

The first one: a little rough.

In the face of such great damage and personal tragedy it's hard to know what to do and how to give. The flurry of news, being able to witness what was happening first hand from eyewitness accounts and every news outlet, made me feel helpless. And even though I have experience with strategic philanthropy I still get the feeling that I’m too far away for my $25 to make any sort of difference. Logically I'm thinking, there's still work to be done in Haiti, as there is still work to be done in New Orleans ... pick something to care about and stick with it. It feels fickle, jumping on the disaster bandwagon when there is still recovery work to be done in other areas. I realize life doesn't work this way; this is how systems play out, reverberating against each other. You don't get to solve one problem before another arises. Yet it contributes to the feeling of helplessness: are we just running around putting out fires or are we changing the way fires are started and dealt with? I have compassion fatigue. It's shutting me down and my money feels like the last thing that would help. I want to bring a casserole and a blanket, do the things that connect me as a human being.

So when I care deeply and I feel helpless, do I write a check? Whether that check actually makes a difference on the ground or the action simply makes me feel better shouldn’t negate the fact that I did something. Right? I think about giving with intention, which at its root is acting with intention. The simple act of doing something mindful directs energy toward the problem. I can't show up with a casserole and a blanket, but I can write a check. And if writing a check doesn't feel like the right response there are many other ways to direct my energy with intention. I was impressed with the campaign to fold paper cranes (this is a great site, love the creativity of young'uns!), and so, to keep my hands busy and my mind focused in prayer for those suffering, I started to fold.

Sometimes I wonder how having the world this connected (allowing us to emotionally participate in all the grief that's fit to print) is changing us. Will it deepen our ability for compassion? Or to the realization that the lines we draw on a map are arbitrary? It's given me the chance to think about how I can channel my sadness and fear. What action will do the most good? Right now its in folded bits of paper.

**Here's a great pdf guide to folding your own paper cranes!**