Living a Mindful Life Lesson 16: Living in the Gray

One aspect I am working on in trying to live a more mindful life is finding comfort in the gray. I prefer a black and white life: unwavering decisions, obvious paths, and absolute knowledge. Indecision makes me anxious, forks in the road nervous and the unknown scares me like nothing else.
But I am realizing that life isn't really painted with such clear cut colors: it is variegated with shades of gray and be-speckled with glorious dots of black and white. In order to feel content and rest in my peace, I have to learn to exist in a dappled life.
For me, this is a daily struggle, and, perhaps, and hourly one. I constantly assess what I can and cannot change or control. I can't control flight cancellations, weather, or someone else's feelings. I can't change time, my children's personality, or even how someone reacts to me. When something "gray" happens that makes my heart race, brow sweat or knees knock, it all comes back to taking a moment, a breath and a reality check.
Luck comes to those who not only live in the gray but also survive, dare I say, thrive in the gray. The lucky ones take change as a blessing. They rejoice when they have choices. And when a door closes, they walk up to the next one and pound on it as hard as they can. Those of us who fight the gray and try to stay in the lines are blind to the gifts that living in the gray affords us.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 14: Acid Washed Jeans & High-tops

Being mindful of others' likes & dislikes is a challenging mindful tool to learn...especially with my children. I always want to instill my opinions and thoughts about everything. That's fine when it is about morals or drugs or religion and stuff that I feel really matters in their development. BUT should I really try to control every bit, especially the little parts that make up who they want to be at that moment?

When I was young, (well, not kid young but tween/teen young) I more often than not wore clothes that my mom didn't like. She would buy me matchy-matchy outfits and then look at me in dismay when I wanted to return them or if I would mix them up in different ways. It was my goal never to wear the same complete outfit twice and I was quite successful.

Side bar: This notion is so funny to me today because now I will wear the same outfit several times in a row--basically whatever happens to be on the floor by the toilet when I wake up. (Note to my Mother: I do; however, put on clean underwear.)

Any way, so Mom eventually started letting me pick out my own clothes...or at least some of them. I had these paint splatter capri pants and several pairs of acid washed jeans that I would either peg leg with my handy sewing machine or would simply do the fold and roll. If you grew up in the 80s, you know exactly what I'm talking about. In college, I moved onto an even more disturbing look for my Mom: short, short hair, no make up, white v-neck t-shirts, pegged jeans and pink high-tops that I had decorated with a Sharpie marker (both the jeans and shoes) and written my boyfriend's name on. I thought I was sooooooooo artsy and cool.

So the other day, my husband took my son (almost 11) to buy new every day sneakers. I finally started getting him just one pair because his feet grow so fast, it is just a waste for him to have more than one. Up until that day, I had just bought shoes for him while I was out shopping. They were typically white, regular sneakers and the brand depended on what was on sale at the time. For some reason, I actually thought that he would come back with a similar type shoe and it never occurred to me to give my husband any directions or shopping boundaries.

My son is wearing his new shoes when he comes in and I looked at them and had the fastest mindful moment I think I have ever had. There he stood in these black leather high-top sneakers...the kind all the "thugs & druggies" wore at my high school. After over 20 years, they still make these awful shoes?? My initial reaction was to tell him to get those ugly things off his feet & return them immediately. But my mindful little voice quickly chimed in, "Don't react, don't say anything negative. You told him to pick out his own shoes. And he did." He said with a grin: "Dad said you probably wouldn't like these, but I really do, Mom." My response (with a smile, I might add) was: "Honey, I told you to pick them out. If they make you happy then they are perfectly fine." Then I thought, "Thank goodness his feet grow fast. Besides that, at least he isn't wearing them with acid washed jeans."

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 12: The Lonely Hunter

Have you ever read the book by Carson McCullers called The Heart is a Lonely Hunter? Go here if you want to learn more about it: www.enote.com/heart-is. Any way, since I read it in college, the title has stuck with me more than the actual story. Since it has been at least 20 years since I read it, I can't really remember all the details. The main thing I remember is the title.

Lately I have been going through a lot of emotional turmoil. Lately meaning the last year and a half, but who is keeping record? Me. For eighteen months one thing after the other has happened to me or people I love from illnesses, to death, to cancer, to finical struggles and so on. I know we all have our issues and our life struggles. Some I consider worse and some not so bad. But who am I to judge? Pain, loneliness, problems and even joys are all subjective to the receptor and "experiencer".

I had a vision of my heart last night. It was a combination of the Dead Sea and the Moon: all cracked and cratered but still illuminating from an outside source---God, the love of my husband and the childlike admiration of my children?. I imagined that it is bandaged, scared, chipped, broken and sewed up with silk threads and wire. There are a couple of colorful band-aids from my daughter on there, too. Some repair jobs are surgical miracles; the scars are near invisible, and some are hack jobs. And I thought: "My heart is a lonely hunter" searching for love, companionship, truth, and acceptance.

One thing I've learned from parenting my two children is that they will behave in the best way possible with all that they have at that moment. I think the same is true for adults. I try to keep this in mind . In living a mindful life, it is important to try and take your loved ones, even the people you encounter day to day, as they are in the moment that they present themselves. If someone you love is usually jovial and all of a sudden they "aren't acting like themselves", then something must have happened. People's personalities and true selves don't change for no reason.

With my husband and parents, this is easily reciprocated--my joint unconditional lovers. I even took a binding oath to love, cherish and honor my relationship to my husband. Too bad we don't take a similar oath with our friends. Then there would be clearer guidelines on what is expected (I am such a black and white person.) I am guilty of taking my own silent oath to treat my friends as if...well they were friends and sometimes family (the good kind of family where you are nice to each other and everything). I am also guilty of placing expectations of them on the same level that I place expectations of myself as a friend. This often gets my feelings hurt because sometimes one of or all of them treat me in a way that is contrary to my definition of how I treat a friend. My heart is a lonely hunter.

So what do I do when this happens while trying to live a mindful life? Do I hold a grudge? Sometimes. Do I cry into my pillow at night? Often. Do I obsess over why,why why? Oh, yes. None of this is productive and not very mindful. One time when a man broke my heart into almost unrecognizable pieces, I laid and bed and cried for two days and nights straight. My sister-in-law show up and said: "OK it's over. It is his loss. Time to shower and move on." So, it all comes down to the proverbial "picking battles" theory. I have to choose whether to charge my heart into battle fully well knowing that it will come back lame and perhaps needing a lot of TLC.

It all comes down to protecting yourself: being mindful of what YOU can handle and what YOU want to battle over. Sometimes it just isn't worth it. Sometimes it is. Sometimes you should do the duck thing and let it roll off your back and sometimes you should charge head on like a bull seeing red. Whatever you do, before reacting, try to take a moment to assess the damages. You have to protect your lonely heart or go into it with a well stock First Aid kit in hand.