Clarity (a brief moment of)

So one of the possibilities I've been reading about is becoming a Certified Diabetes Educator. I just keep coming back to it ... As much as I try to tell myself it would make more sense to get an RN, just as a way to qualify for a more stable kind of job than I've had until now, my heart really isn't in it. Visions of bedpans, etc.

However. Certification as an RN might be the fastest way to open a door to something that does interest me – it's one way to meet the discipline requirement to sit for the CDE exam. I could also do it by becoming an occupational therapist or dietician, or by getting an MSW or a master's in nutrition or health education. I'm interested in all of those things (there are also other options that don't interest me at all – optometrist, podiatrist, etc.). But I think the RN is the shortest program, and possibly the cheapest. Not that I think it would necessarily be all that easy, assuming I could even get into a program.

My first choice of paths here – what appeals most to my heart and soul – would be to do the MSW, then the practice experience required to sit for the exam, then to work in a clinical setting (not a private practice) with diabetic clients on both physical and mental/emotional health issues. How the hell long would that take? How would I pay for it? Am I really smart enough to do that? Am I healthy enough? Do I have the stamina? Would I be able to find a job when I was done?

This is where I realize the RN is probably not the best way. Because ultimately, even as a CDE, I would still be working in the discipline I'd chosen, and I don't really want to work as a nurse. I need to be honest with myself about this. I don't want to be a nurse. I want to be a health educator or some kind of therapist. I think. Maybe. Unless it's all just too exhausting.

Still ... I do feel like I need to make a change. Today I read this article, written by one of my clients. It's exactly the kind of thing I used to write for a living and reading it confirmed that I have absolutely zero interest in pursuing that kind of work again, ever. Less than zero interest – negative interest. Infinity negative. I just don't think I could do it again. And I don't have much enthusiasm for design work anymore, either. Good to feel clear about that, too, I suppose.

Ugh. It's the middle of the night, and I can't sleep. Maybe it's just because I'm not doing that well right now, but the thought of scrapping my last 25 years of professional experience (such as it is) to start over from scratch in a completely unrelated field ... I guess I need to think of it as "exciting," and it is, but also: it just kind of freaks me out.

But – the reason I wanted to write it down tonight is because I've been thinking about what feels good when I let my mind consider every possibility, and this is what feels good to me tonight. A teacher I kind of like has this saying, "What is inclusive of how." I've been keeping that in mind too. Because anything that is going to happen, has to start with the "what." The vision. Not that is has to be 100% clear and complete before anything can begin ... I'm expecting that like any other living thing, the vision will evolve as I nurture it and start taking steps to make it happen.

There's also that other metaphor, the one about walking in the dark – the flashlight only reaches far enough to show you the next little bit of the path ahead, but if you just keep moving, you can get all the way there like that.

Anyway. Right now I'm concentrating on developing an informed, actionable and energizing vision of what I want to be doing over the next 5, 10 and 25 years, with faith that this will make it easier to work out the specifics of "how."

And now that I've emptied the contents of my brain into this post, I'm going to go see if I can get a little sleep before the sun comes up.

A soundtrack for winter

Apropos of nothing but my need for constant reminders, I give to you: the new wallpaper on my phone.

I discovered this band recently and have been keeping this song on repeat as I move about my days. Really loving the way it's coloring my life as the fall moves into winter. Click here to download the file.

Not too much happening on the job front. Nothing at all happening, in fact. I'm OK with it at the moment; this time of year is so slow and quiet and inward-turning for me – despite the holiday rush – that I'm mostly just grateful to have the time, for a change, to experience the shifting seasons out in the weather and under the sky, rather than from inside a building. It's been beautiful.

Seems like every day there's something I want to write about, and then suddenly the day is over and I haven't written anything. That's probably OK too.

So, what have I been doing? Reconnecting with a few old friends and a couple of new ones, too. Getting ready for Christmas. Dealing with some financial matters that I've been meaning to organize for a very long time. Taking lots of dog walks. Roasting lots of chickens, and making lots of soup. Over the weekend I went to a great daylong program at Spirit Rock, on the topic of neuroplasticity and the brain, and how meditation practice and consciously choosing to focus on positive experiences can help the brain heal from neurological and psychological trauma, including post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries like strokes. They also spent a lot of time talking about anxiety and teaching specific practices to help protect the brain from the damage (yes, actual measurable damage) that can occur when brain tissues are exposed to prolonged stress of any kind.

One simple practice that I especially love is to make a point, six or more times a day, to focus on a pleasant experience for at least 30 seconds. It could be anything – I think of the smell when I peel one of my beloved Satsuma tangerines, or the way it feels to snuggle up with Tater in the morning. Or the way his adorable legs move when we're out walking, and his ears are bouncing up and down, and he turns around to look at me and smile. The point is that "neurons that fire together, wire together" so the more you run your brain in the pathways of positive experience, the more connected those pathways become, so that the brain actually grows increasingly capable of experiencing feelings of happiness, contentment and well-being. And they're not just making it all up – as a neurologist and a neuropsychologist, they know their stuff. They've also written a book, which I've ordered from the library and am excited about reading.

Another sort of interesting thing that happened recently is that I ran across a folder containing printouts of all the email I wrote to a nice variety of friends and family over a period of about 11 months in 1996-7, when I was in the process of getting out of my marriage. Reading through it all (it's a fairly tall stack) was a bittersweet experience. There were so many things I'd forgotten about, especially having to do with my job (which was far from secure that year) and the clarity I felt that it was going to be really difficult to make a good living here with the skills and experience I had at the time. I've sort of been soldiering on ever since, teaching myself to do lots of different things to stay afloat but never feeling quite secure enough to make a real investment in the kind of training I would need to actually thrive.

It still scares me to think of what I'm going to need to do to change direction at this point. First of all, I don't really know what I need to do. So I need to get clear on that. And whatever it is, it's going to take some money to get there. More than anything else it terrifies me to think of going into debt, even for something as important as a degree or certification that could help me get a truly decent job for the first time in ... well, awhile. Possibly there are grants and other ways to fund my next steps, or maybe I'll have to find another job first and then work and go to school at the same time. Yet another thing to figure out.

Somehow I feel like I've said all this before. Probably many times. Possibly even in the last post I wrote before this one. As I was reminded while reading those letters, and other things I've written since I was a little kid, I tend to repeat myself over and over and over again ... My core concerns and emotional tendencies have remained basically unchanged for at least 35 of my 44 years. In one way, that seems kind of depressing. In another way, I guess at least I know more or less what I'm dealing with when one of those fears or mental roadblocks arises for the 16 millionth time. And every year I feel I get better at working with the conditions I've been given.

Anyway. One way or another, I'll get through it.

Last night I was in the checkout line at the market and noticed my favorite checker's stand was closed. Then I noticed the conveyer belt was covered with flowers and garlands of nuts and berries. Then I noticed a picture of him on a little easel, and I turned around to raise my eyebrows at the kid who was checking me out and he said, "Yeah. He died last night." Just like that, of liver failure. He was only about 10 years older than I am. We both teared up and spent a few minutes talking about him, and as I was leaving it occurred to me – he's done now. He made it. He's out of range, safe from everything I'm most anxious about these days: the grand trifecta of sickness, old age and death.

Not that I'm feeling quite ready to go myself, just yet. But remembering that it's going to happen someday does help me bring myself back to reality in a way that feels healthy and grounding. I really don't need to make such a big deal about all the stuff I don't like – my job insecurity, my general lack of confidence, my boring mental and physical health issues ... Those things are not unique to me, and they're not even remotely the most important elements of my life. And I feel so much better when I focus on the parts that feel good – life is too short to do anything else.

Wow. I just put that song on the iPod (in preparation for a rainy day sunset dog walk) while I still had it playing on the computer, so now I'm hearing it playing over itself like a round. Very interesting.

P.S. Also: I got some gorgeous cranberry colored alpaca wool the other day and have been knitting neck warmers for bike riding. Speaking of things that feel good! Oh – and also – this tea, with milk and a tiny bit of honey – is making me so very, very happy each and every afternoon of late. Highly recommended.

I'm here

Just a quickie to write down something interesting that happened to me this morning.

I've been waking up way too early as it is, and Daylight Saving Time has not helped. Usually the first thing I notice when I realize I'm awake is that flood of adrenaline sloshing through my guts. Once I'm up I can get it back down to a manageable level by exercising – I feel fine as long as I'm moving fairly fast, walking or hiking or riding my bike. If I go hard enough, the effect lasts awhile, at least long enough to give me a few good hours to focus on freelance work. But it always seems to creep back up again, the longer I sit ... bad news for someone whose only source of income depends on spending time in front of a computer.

I feel good while I'm walking. But I can't walk all day.

This gives me pause, when I think about what I'm going to do next for work. Am I really going to try to find another job that involves sitting at a desk? What else do I really know how to do? When I get back from this little Utah trip (driving out tomorrow for a few days, with a friend who's going for business – so, free gas and hotels!) I'm thinking I might re-activate my substitute teaching credential and see if I like being in a classroom at all. That's a job where you actually get to stand up every once in awhile ....

Anyway – on to what happened this morning, and then I've gotta get out of here and get some exercise so I can get this little project finished before I leave tomorrow.

So this morning I had an experience of pure, open awareness, just as I was waking up. I realized I was awake, but there were no thoughts there – I was just there, warm and safe and quiet with the sun shining through the window. Then, the first thought that came into my mind was, "I'm here." That was all. It was just like what the Buddhist texts describe as emptiness – I was just there, and there wasn't any story attached to that moment, or emotion, or judgment, or anything.

It only lasted a few seconds and then there was a thought, "NO JOB!!!!!!!!!!" Then an immediate stab of adrenaline, a gush of terror .... And then for a few more seconds I was actually able to clear all that out and go back to just being there. Then it came back, and I started twitching and shaking and had to get up. Sucks to be sensitive.

What caught my attention thinking about it later was that nothing had changed in my circumstances to cause the change in my physical state. I hadn't even moved my body. It was the story that was being told inside my head that was causing all the hullabaloo. It was in my mind, and not in my body – because my body was totally fine, relaxed and even kind of happy until the story asserted itself again.

Not to discount the story, exactly – it is true that I don't have a job, and I'm going to need to figure out what to do about that. But that fact doesn't have to be the central defining feature of my existence or my state of mind.

So today I'm thinking about how I might learn to have more of those moments of OKness, by practicing refocusing on the present instead of letting my mind go to town on hyperinflated fear stories.

In the meantime, I'm just feeling grateful to have experienced it. The memory of that moment feels like something I'm going to be able to work with for a long time.

Unmindful me

This one starts with a quote – the Fourth Wonderful Precept:

Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I vow to cultivate loving speech and deep listening in order to bring joy and happiness to others and to relieve others of their suffering. Knowing that words can create happiness or suffering, I vow to learn to speak truthfully, with words that inspire self-confidence, joy and hope. I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain and not to criticize or condemn things of which I am not sure. I will refrain from uttering words that can cause division or discord, or that can cause the family or the community to break. I will make all efforts to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

Yesterday something reminded me of my friend who assaulted my other friend in November, and I decided to go back and re-read the emails I sent to the group right after the shit hit the fan. I was really surprised at how angry and condemning my messages sounded, and dismayed to find in them almost no trace of the kindness, compassion and willingness to listen and engage even in the face of great obstacles that I have supposedly been trying to integrate into my life for lo these many years.

The opinions I expressed then have not changed, but my feelings have, somewhat. Now that the shock has worn off a bit and the reality of the situation is sinking in – this person is never going to be in my life the way he was before, if at all – I'm still angry, but mostly just sad. To try to work through it, I've been reviewing the whole situation again, looking for ways I might channel those kinds of feelings in a more positive direction if I ever have to deal with something like this again. Which I really hope I don't. But – things happen. I know so many people who've been molested or abused, or victimized in some way by someone they trusted ... you can't always just cut the offender out of your life and forget about them, even if you wanted to. And even if you could, that doesn't necessarily solve the problem.

I've read probably hundreds of books about how people heal from the various kinds of damage we all experience. But this incident has re-ignited my curiosity about how perpetrators might also be healed. A few years ago I read this book on engaged Buddhism and restorative justice (among other things), which I've just started reading again. In the introduction, the editor talks about how easy it is, in our eagerness to alleviate suffering in the world, to try to "leapfrog over our own situation – as if the pickle we ourselves are in doesn't count." As an example she mentions Mrs. Jellyby, from Dickens's Bleak House (one of my favorite books of all time) – a woman who spends all her time working for the education of African natives, while her own children fall ill from neglect.

That made me think. What does all my study and practice really mean, if the moment somebody I care about fucks up – really seriously fucks up something that really matters – my only "official" response is to angrily condemn their actions and sever the friendship and never speak to that person again? Even if those relationships can't be repaired, there must still be some way to ... I don't know. Let go of the anger? Say good-bye with love? Forgive? What does that mean, exactly? How do you actually DO that? And what do you do afterwards?

I keep coming back to that phrase, "to speak ... with words that inspire self-confidence, joy and hope." What would those words have been, under those circumstances? I've felt haunted by the memory of several different moments during that weekend when I wanted to say something about what was going on, and decided not to. Why did I do that? To put it in the plainest terms, it was because I valued my own comfort more than my friend's distress. I felt concerned, but also annoyed at him for making people uncomfortable. I felt uncomfortable. I felt compassion, and I also wanted to control his mood so everyone could enjoy the weekend – and then I identified that thought as "codependent" and disengaged. I reminded myself that he's a grown man, he's responsible for his own feelings and behavior. I still think that. But it wouldn't have cost me anything to find a private moment to let him know I was aware of his pain, and offer a little support. Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference in what happened. But maybe it would have. I wish I'd done it.

The other part of mindful speech that I will be working with again for awhile is the "deep listening" part. I wonder what would have happened if I'd been willing to really listen.

Also: completeness. I was relieved in reading those emails to see that even though the feelings I expressed were extreme, I'd been able to refrain from exaggerating or overstating them. But there were other things I also felt and thought that I didn't say, that might have been worth saying. Like the fact that my own personal experience with this person has been that he's always respected the boundaries I've set, when I've made them clear. I didn't say it because it didn't seem relative to what he had just done, and because I didn't want to seem to be blaming his victims for not being clear about their boundaries – not least of all because I know many of them were clear with him. And with me. A lot of people knew about this person's "habits." So why didn't I just say what was on my mind?

My point though was that I personally have not felt exploited or abused by him, and the few times when I have felt uncomfortable about some conversation or something, he always dialed it down as soon as I said something. I felt he respected me. Was I deluded? Was he just different with me? If so, why? Why does it seem so important to understand his point of view about all this? Why do I still feel so invested in trying to work out some kind of reconciliation?

Is this the kind of thing I should not be blogging about? Is it too personal? Is it a violation of other people's privacy, even if I don't use anybody's names (even my own)? Is this unmindful speech? I somehow doubt it's going to inspire joy or happiness in the person I'm writing about, or relieve his suffering. Although I would dearly love to do that, too. First I need to get clear with my own self, and this is one of the ways I do that.

I think in this case I'm going to go with my dad's advice about mindful speech, though that's not what he calls it. He says if you're ever wondering whether or not to say something, ask yourself whether it's true, kind and necessary. If it isn't at least two out of the three, you probably shouldn't say it.

Some of what I'm saying here will probably be painful for certain people to read, but I don't think that necessarily makes it unkind. It's also true, and for me, necessary.

Sharing these thoughts in a public blog may not seem necessary to some, but that's part of my process, too. I'm going to go ahead and post this. If anyone out in the blogosphere gets any benefit from following my story as it unfolds, well ... that would make me happy.