retinal perspectives

learning to listen

I was thinking about all of the things I've tried in the past couple of years of working on my stuff (also known as learning more about myself and why I do the things I do).

The list is long - and goes from seemingly ordinary (like writing in a journal) to seemingly out-of-the-ordinary (like soul retrieval).

But really, it all boils down to one thing: learning to listen to myself. Not my mind - that was the only thing I ever used to listen to - but my body and my inner wisdom.

And somehow the listening slowly changed everything.

one batch of imperfection

If you were at my house right now, it would look like I am baking bread. Which I am. But what I am really doing is practicing the art of imperfection.

You see, my first batch never rose, even though I spent over a day trying to get it to do so. It was most frustrating. (I know the yeast was good because I tested it.)

This would normally make me want to give up altogether. That's what I (want to) do when I feel frustrated that I can't get something right in what seems like a "normal" amount of time.

Instead, I am trying again. Even though I had to throw out the first batch. Even though I have no guarantee that this batch will turn out any better.

I do have troubles with perfectionism. I know this. It's a very old pattern. Who knew that making bread would give me a way to play with it.

maybe creating a new story is as simple as that

I've been thinking about stories.

About how everything is a story.

About how every thought is really its own story.

About how logic doesn't necessarily matter because if it feels true to you, it is true for you.

About how beliefs are really just stories that we've been told or have told ourselves for so long that we don't even think to question them anymore.

This got me thinking about one of my stories - the story that says I'm not enough.

And it got me thinking that maybe everything doesn't have to be so hard and painful. (Maybe that's a story too.) Maybe changing my story is as simple as changing my story.

So, as of this moment, I have a new story. I am enough. I am enough. I am enough. I have worth and value for no other reason than that I exist.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Care to join me?

an invitation

what is nature inviting you to do today?

sing?

dance?

notice?

smile?

what is your body inviting you to do today?

pause?

breathe?

listen?

laugh?

maybe start with noticing

I know it can be scary to think about beginning to give yourself what you need and want.

It's scary in general. (Most of us learned that giving to our own self is not okay.) It's scary because it seems so huge. (We're sure that the list is endless and the items on the list are huge and impossible.) It's scary because it feels endless. (We're sure that once we start giving, it'll go on forever and we won't be able to do anything else.)

My current idea-in-practice is that even just paying attention and noticing what you need is enough to begin to change things. Sometimes it feels easier and safer to commit to paying attention than it is to commit to taking action.

I mentioned earlier this week that I needed rest. What I didn't mention is that I have been lacking in focus and ideas for work lately and was getting really frustrated. Even so, I decided yesterday that I would really try to commit to taking care of myself. Today, my motivation and ideas are back again. And I remembered something that showed up in my journal after a Shiva Nata session: "Sweetie, you need rest. I know you are wanting to write something business-y here but it's not going to happen. You and your business need rest."

I didn't get any extra rest. But I did notice last night when I grew tired, even though I still felt unable to go to bed until I did a bit more work. Hence my new idea-in-practice, because clearly the noticing was useful in and of itself.

It's wonderful to feel heard and understood. It occurs to me that paying attention and noticing what you need, even if you can't give it to yourself just yet, is actually a way of doing just that.

so, about that tea-time idea

I mentioned a while ago that I wanted to introduce the concept of tea-time into my life after I realized that I didn't bake because I didn't think that - on my own - I was special enough to bake for.

As it turns out, the realization alone seems to have shifted things. Since that post, I bought one cake and baked two cakes and happily enjoyed all of them. The tea-time idea, however, did not work out so well. I am never hungry enough in the afternoon for a piece of cake.

If you must know, I tend to enjoy my cake for breakfast. (Shhhh. It'll be our little secret.) But I will say that cake for breakfast - particularly on a very ordinary day - does make a person feel extra-special.

p.s. The blueberry breakfast cake in this photo - including the streusel topping - is worth trying. It was most excellent. My next project is to use this streusel to make an apple or pear crumble. Oh, happy thought.

things I've learned from the pup

Almost seven years ago, I brought home a cute little puppy. (Seven years! Seriously. Where does the time go.) Truth be told, I was totally unprepared. I had done some pet-sitting, but I was totally unprepared for the reality of day-in day-out life with a clever and active puppy in the house. If I had known what I was in for, I don't know if I could have done it. And yet, I would do it again in a heartbeat, and I will do it again in a heartbeat when Atlas leaves me someday.

When I brought Atlas home, I knew that I would love and adore him forever, and that he would bring fun and laughter and furry companionship into my life. What I did not know is that he would teach me so much about living and being. It never would have occurred to me that a dog could be a fabulous teacher, if I were willing to slow down and listen.

I thought I'd slowly write down the things that I have learned from watching the pup over the years, in case they are of use to others. Here are a few of them.

Whatever you are doing, do it to the fullest.

If you are smelling, smell. If you are eating, eat. If you are napping, nap. If you are wriggling on the grass, wriggle on the grass. If you are chewing a stick, chew a stick. If you are watching a cat, watch a cat.

If you want something, ask for it.

If you ask for it, you just might get it. And if you don't get it, that's fine too. If you really want it, you can ask someone else or ask again later.

Life is an adventure.

Even a walk to the garbage bin can be exciting. You never know what you'll come across. And even if everything is exactly the same, it's an entirely new moment.

When the weather is hot, take the time to sit on the grass in the shade.

It's cooler there. And it's nice to just be for a while.

You are worthy, for no other reason than because you exist. And exactly how you are, is exactly perfect.

Somehow, dogs know this instinctively.

I hope the pup sticks around for another seven years. Maybe by that time I will have fully absorbed all his lessons and be able to apply them.

it's time for tea

I like to cook. Not all the time. Not everything. But when I am in a cooking mood, I thoroughly enjoy it.

I also like baking. But even when I am in a baking mood, I don't bake. I find a recipe and get all excited and sometimes even buy the ingredients and then something comes up. (The exception being the odd batch of cookies and the occasional holiday dessert and two attempts to make bread.) I think about baking. I bookmark recipes to try someday. But I never actually try them.

I figured it was one of those things where I liked the idea of me as a baker more than I liked the act of baking. Or that I'd bake (more) if I had one of those lovely KitchenAid stand mixers. (Sadly, I can't test this theory because they stopped making the shade of orange I wanted.) Or that it was because I didn't always need or want a whole batch of something. Or that it's a lot of work. Or that if I really wanted a dessert, why would I bake something when I can just buy a slice of something from the bakery.

As it turns out, I was wrong on all counts. The other day, I realized that the reason I don't bake is because baking feels special. Not the act of baking itself, but the results of baking. So, unless it's a special occasion - an occasion that involves other people - I can't bake. I can't bake because I don't think that (on my own) I'm special enough to bake for.

This seems rather sad. This also seems like something - given that I'm working on showing love and kindness to myself - I can experiment with. So, I am playing with the idea of instituting tea-time. I'd like to bake something delicious, and then take the time to enjoy whatever it is in the middle of the afternoon. Doesn't that sound lovely?! I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear if this seems at all familiar. Particularly the general idea of not doing something you enjoy or think you'd enjoy - maybe for other reasons other than what you tell yourself.

taking time for yourself

I don't know about you, but I have a hard time listening to my body. Well, I don't know if it's that I have a hard time exactly; it's that I've never really liked to do it. I've never trusted my body or the information it provides. It was my mind that was in charge; my body was just a tool for my mind to use.

My body seemed to be the most contrary thing. It wanted me to rest when I had things to do. It got hungry when I had just eaten or when I was right in the middle of something or when I just did not have time to stop and eat. It was always pointing out nagging aches and pains. It had problems that I could not get rid of - like allergies or a lack of energy.

Over the years, I learned how to ignore it. When I did listen to it, I treated it like this annoying thing that didn't really know what it wanted. "No, you're not in pain. I don't have time. No, you're not hungry. You've eaten enough. No. No. No."

I spent most of my time living in my mind. The only thing I really did that consistently took me out of my mind was trail running. That was why I loved it. Everything was quiet and all I could think about was my feet on the trails. Even then, I never really focused on how my body was feeling other than to appreciate that it could run.

After I took my first Reiki class, I started giving myself a Reiki treatment every day. Those treatments were the first time that I really took the time to sit and pay attention to myself at all. (Which is not to say that I didn't sit, just that I never paid attention.)

As I paid more and more attention, I began to realize that my body was not out to get me. In fact, it was actually more loving and supportive than my mind. While my mind was saying, "You're fat," my body was saying, "Sweetie, you're hungry; you need to eat." While my mind was saying, "You need to do/be/have more," my body was saying, "Sweetie, you're burnt out; you need to rest." While my mind was saying, "You can't do the things you want to do," my body was saying, "Sweetie, you're on the wrong road; you might want to rethink this."

When I started listening to my body, it was like finding this great new way to get information on myself. 

If you've read about my Reiki services or done a session with me, you know that I like you to treat the sessions like an experiment. I like you to set aside the hour to relax, to pay attention to yourself, and to see what you notice.

I do this because it's a very good way to evaluate something and to decide whether it's helpful or not.

I do this for other reasons as well. One of them is because it gives you the opportunity to set aside time to relax and pay attention to your body. When you do this, you're telling yourself that how you feel (physically, mentally, emotionally) is important. It is important. It's nice to do something that affirms this. And this also gives your body the chance to talk to you a little.

If Reiki isn't your thing, no worries. There are lots of other ways to do this. You can try yoga or meditation. You can dance around to music and lie quietly afterwards. You can set aside a little time and just notice what's going on with your body. All you really need is a little attention and curiosity.

love (my)self

The lovely Mahala of Luminous Heart invited everyone to join her in a Summer of Lovingkindness. The topic has been circling around in my mind since the invitation.

One of my current practices is to learn to treat myself with love and kindness, something I have struggled with all my life. Part of that practice means to learn to treat myself with love and kindness, even when I am behaving in ways that are less than loving and kind.

It is difficult. It is difficult, even though I know that guilt and anger and threats and punishment and harsh words (or thoughts) do not motivate me to change. Or that if I do change, I am changing from a place of fear, not of love.

There are many moments in which I decide that this practice is selfish or useless or not-at-all-important in the grand (or not-so-grand) scheme of things.

Then, there are little moments of understanding in which I realize that - for me - this is one of the most important practices of all.

It is easy for me to treat others with love and kindness when I like them, or agree with them, or they are treating me nicely. It is not so easy when they are annoying me, or I don't agree with them, or they are treating me badly. Yet, in all moments, we are full of the same grace.

It occurs to me that if I can learn to treat myself with love and kindness in more and more of my moments, then - since the person I have always treated the worst is myself - it will be easier and easier to extend love and kindness to everyone around me, in more and more of their moments.