basic goodness

Go to the Limits of Your Longing…(And Um, Hang On to Your Center?)

March 11th, 2010

Big loooooong out-breath, my 40 days of yoga, meditation and conscious eating is over.

And now I can do whatever I want.

I can sit still every morning, and open to what arises in my mind and body, with curiosity, and my best in-the-moment go at acceptance. Or not.

I can eat beautiful, fresh, whole foods. Or not.

I can consistently show up on my mat, and breathe and flow, and connect internally. Or not.

I can seek connection with yoga friends, giving them love and smiles, and receiving their love and smiles. Or not.

I have so many options before me that I can choose. Or not

And I see, ever more clearly, how these choices determine the quality of my lived experience.

Which brings me to the question I have been asked by friends:

“Oooooh, tell me Lauren, what did you get out of your 40 day experience?”

Oh, you mean, why was taking on the 20+ hours per week adventure of yogini/meditator/mindful eater worth every particle of space and moment of time it occupied?” I’m happy to share!

Because maintaining this 40-day commitment forced gently reminded me about choice. Discernment. And longing. And it invited me, again, to be willing to trust my own intuition. To captain my ship. And to trust my own answers to the big questions.

Questions like: How do I long to spend my time? What qualities do I long to bring into my life? What qualities do I long to give to the people in my life?

What allows me to flare up like flame and make big shadows that love can move in? (*Paraphrasing a Rilke poem)

And how the heck can I do all I yearn to do in a way that is sustainable, self-loving, and other-loving?

Because I tend to overextend. I’m scary-good at gritting my teeth and pushing through. Moremoremore is added until I have to start throwing things overboard. And I don’t want to be all gogogo if it means I’ll find my center has careened off to the left, or hurtled off to the right. If it means I’ll find my mind all tightly-wound, and my feet walking as if on slippery fishes. And I’d rather not hold my breath without reprieve.

I want to exhale. I’d like more yin to balance out the yang.

I’d like to create emotional balance and a deep sense of well-being. Consistently, resolutely. And to do that, I’ll need harbors to anchor in after long days out in the wind and the weather.

During this 40 day endeavor, I was squeezed by a giant time crunch. I said yes to many things: new clients, speaking engagements, copywriting projects, teaching opportunities, cool collaborations. Yes, yes, yes, I said.

And I’m a mom too, and a wife. A loving, fun, engaged mom and wife. Which involves saying yes every day. Because I like being there for my family. And this means being there-there, because when I’m not there-there, they notice. And I notice. And sometimes that’s o.k., but most of the time I would rather have containers around when I’m there-there for my family, and when I’m somewhere else. Half-way presence feels disconcerting.

And I want to say yes to other things too: my head-clearing runs, my yoga practice, my garden, living in a peaceful de-cluttered space, and occasionally being social with friends.

All those yes-es have been packed into not enough time and space. I’ve kept every commitment, by mapping them all out on a calendar, and summoning up energy from the deep. And by asking for help, and forgoing beloved sleep. And surrendering. Some good lessons in there. But I’ve also felt that dark sludge of resentment building.

And I came face-to-face with an embarrassing truth

Saying yes to all that stuff didn’t come from the most aligned place inside. I was saying yes because it was exciting to be wanted, all at once, in lots of different places. So I followed the calls –  here, there, and everywhere.

And then, on the yoga mat, I noticed my flame was making piddly shadows, leaving little space for love to move in. And the resentment was oozing its way in. (Oh, yoga, I love you so, for all you invite me to notice.)

Resentment sludge? ICK. Big wake-up call. Time to step back.

It’s still a new thing for me to step back and say, hang on, what do I want? I am so grateful to be practicing this, but there’s no denying it feels awkward. I’m stepping up to a new place and I feel more responsible, more vulnerable.

But now that the wisdom is there, there’s no turning back. And the resentment-gunk must go.

So, I’m asking myself: How can I grow Basic Goodness (the business) in a way that honors my needs? How can I do the work I feel I was meant to do without overextending? How can I create containers around my life-life and my work-life so everything ignites bright and makes big shadows for love to inhabit? All the while, heading in a valued direction?

Synchronicity

And as I was asking these questions, (synchronicity alert!) my new friend, Eileen, was building a sailboat. The sailboat is her metaphor for a way to manage time — a schedule that holds things, but not too tightly. It’s a way to intentionally choose how to spend time, but in a way that is not pant-pant-pant overextending or soul-squishing.

And well, this metaphor works for me. I know sailboats. I spent every childhood summer on a 30 foot sailboat with my family, sailing to pretty ports on the East Coast. So, I’m going to build one too. A metaphorical one, that is. I am going to practice (and practice some more) intentionally deciding how to spend my time in a way that sustains me and helps me love big.

Once I build my sailboat, and set sail, I’ll blog about it. And yes! I get to decide what I bring on my sailboat (my rituals will board first)….And oh, what I love about this metaphor too, is my sailboat will only sail so far before it’ll throw down an anchor in a lovely, tranquil harbor. I’m feeling more seaworthy already…

Please, tell me about you. Do you interact with time in an intentional way?  Do you rebel against structure, or do you love it? How do you find freedom and meaning in time? Where do you take refuge from the wind and the weather?