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Posts Tagged ‘gratitude’

An Essential Truth

Written by Jennifer on 30th November 2011

Let’s have a brief catch-up session: I’ve had a baby, it’s been amazing, I’ve taken 3.5 months of solid maternity leave and now I’m ready to begin tapping back into my professional life once more. Okay, good, we’re all caught up on the basics since my last post.

Here’s a peak at me with my son, Sevi, during those early weeks:

The most amazing thing about spending time with my son has been watching him rapidly evolve from a sleepy, totally-freaked-out-by-this-new-world-outside-the-womb newborn into a social, delighted and fairly organized three and half month old. Yes, he cries, he fusses, he gets bored but the hallmark of this last month has been joy. Pure, unabashed joy. This kid smiles like there’s no tomorrow!

At first I thought this joyful nature might just be some evolutionary tool built in to ensure parents don’t abandon their kids. Infant care is, well, a lot, and if kids didn’t progress from sleepy, fussy lumps into engaged, social creatures with smiles that win their parent’s hearts, we might have a shortage of toddlers in the world, if you know what I mean.

I’ve since come to another conclusion. Yes, a child’s first smile is no doubt timed just right to keep parents healthily attached, but when those smiles unfold into a picture of that pure, unabashed joy I was talking about, I think it’s actually pointing to something deeply important about who we fundamentally are. Our inherent nature is one of joy. All the time we spend worrying and fretting and organizing and controlling and forcing and accomplishing is understandable. But on one level it is not even real. It is certainly not essential.

Of course, I write all of this in the midst of my own anxieties about combining work with being a breastfeeding mother and having a child who is somewhat bottle-adverse. My husband and I are trying to sort out childcare and I was up every two hours last night. I’ve felt somewhat miserable all day. That’s not to mention that most of my pants still don’t fit and I have existential concerns about the life and death and well-being of my child. Sometimes it’s hard to feel remotely sane, let alone joyful.

I am also aware that with each year, Sevi will have experiences that hurt him and wound him. Like all people, he will feel the need to erect walls for protection. He won’t smile quite so frequently as he gets older and that open, trusting stance will become damaged. He will undoubtedly move away from his own most essential nature and need to work to reconnect with it.

Perhaps the gift of parenting an infant – at least this infant (my mother will tell you horror stories about my oldest brother who cried for six months straight) – is demonstrated in the fact that I can walk down the hall, pick Sevi up and get immediately high off of one of his delicious smiles. I have easy access to this reminder of my own essential nature and therefore I have easier access to a way of peeling back the layers, letting go and experiencing the fountain of joy within.

For that – and for Sevi – I give immeasurable thanks!

Tags: authenticity, family, gratitude, happiness, inspiration, joy
Posted in inspiration | 10 Comments »

Lice cause suffering. Let us give thanks.

Written by Jennifer on 24th November 2010

There are a few adages I am loathe to utter but which nonetheless communicate commonly accepted truths and come forth from the mouths of people I greatly respect. They are also generally expected from people in my profession. Here’s my least favorite:

Everything happens for a reason.

There are myriad reasons why this particular expression gets under my skin. Primarily, it has to do with the how and when of its usage. You’re most apt to have this offered to you as a viewpoint you *should* adopt when something really crappy happens and you haven’t yet begun the healing process. The folks who utter it during such times are well meaning, I’m sure, but it’s always struck me as insensitive at best and abusive at worst.

The adage is also a little too linear for me. I’m not sure I can get behind such a simplistic causation formula for our experience as humans. Take death. In the grand scheme, sure, there may be a simple spiritual, universal reason for dying. But when applied to the timing and manner of individual deaths or the endless “little” deaths we encounter, “everything happens for a reason” strikes me as trite. Perhaps my thoughts about this are similar in form to those of the atheist who believes that humans have simply constructed God to make themselves feel better.

Part of it is that I tend to be less of a “silver lining” kind of gal and more of a “call a spade a spade” kind of gal. But the truth is, a spade isn’t a spade unless I call it spade. See? That is the nature of reality, of language, of story.

In all of this, and on the day before the Thanksgiving holiday, I am reminded of the author Corrie ten Boom‘s recounting of her experience in a Nazi concentration camp. Her sister, imprisoned with her, insisted they give thanks for the wretched lice that had infected their barracks. Corrie balked at such an idea, knowing how much suffering the lice brought all the women living together. But thanks they gave. And it was only later that they realized the lice had been the sole factor preventing the guards from remaining present 24/7 in their barracks. Without guards, they were able to tend freely to one another’s deep spiritual, emotional and mental needs, gathering for meetings of prayer and discussion.

I’ve spent some time today exploring the relationship between being grateful and a resistance to silver linings and everything happening for a reason. There’s no arguing that the act and experience of being grateful is a useful, necessary and healing one and I’ve wondered if you’re more apt to be grateful if you consider that something seemingly crappy or tragic or painful happened for a reason. Or if you’re more likely to give thanks if you believe there’s always a silver lining waiting to be found.

Did the lice appear in order to remove the guards, thereby creating a more deeply nourishing environment for the prisoners? Was the ability to meet for prayer and discussion a silver lining?

Perhaps those questions are irrelevant. Perhaps gratitude is less correlative to a belief that everything happens for a reason or the dogged pursuit of silver linings. Perhaps identifying something as a spade can provide its own pathway to gratitude. Something more along the lines of Corrie ten Boom’s sister’s approach: Lice cause suffering. Let us give thanks.

I have much to be thankful for this year, as I do every year. Much that easily sides into the abundance column and makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. But our human experience is one of yin and yang and so there are also injuries and struggles that I’ve faced. I am going to practice being grateful for them, too. I am going to practice being grateful for them because I am aware that gratitude transforms – ourselves and that for which we are grateful. I am going to practice being grateful for them because I know I cannot see the future. I am going to practice being grateful for them because they are part of the complete experience of my life, a life I cherish with abandon.

May you experience the fullness of your own day of thanksgiving!

Tags: attachment, authenticity, gratitude, holidays
Posted in gratitude | 4 Comments »

Three Stories

Written by jenzdad on 30th October 2010

This post was submitted on Tell A Story. Isn’t it time you told your story?

I teach theater and drama at a university, where I also run a small theater program, producing and directing student plays. This year I’m on sabbatical from the university, freed from my teaching and directing responsibilities and in pursuit of experiences which will enrich my work. Among the highlights of the sabbatical so far: I’m currently designing sound for a professional theater production in New England; an article I wrote has been accepted for publication in a national journal; I have auditioned for and been cast in a professional production of a Shakespeare play in one of America’s biggest cities.

Now let me construct a set of narratives on which these facts may be hung, three stories I can tell myself to explain these facts, all of them “true.” Here’s one story: I’m pretty hot stuff. I’m at the top of my game. After all, to secure my services as designer and as actor, these theater companies are willing to shell out cash: the litmus test of professional activity. And I’m getting published, the gold standard for academic achievement. I’m very successful. Professional artist, serious scholar. You must be impressed.

Here’s another true story: I’m bogus. Getting “paid”? Get real. Sure, there’s some money in those gigs, but it’s a pittance, a stipend–a pity paycheck, really. And that New England theater company? It’s very small, and it performs in the boondocks. If I weren’t such a loser, I’d instead be designing gee-whiz sound effects for a Broadway production that gets favorably reviewed in the New York Times. Likewise with the Shakespeare: I’m cast in a very small role in a smallish production, and of course if I were truly successful I would be playing Lear on the West End, getting written up in the Times of London and courted by movie moguls. And don’t even get me started about that article! It’s not going to appear in some top-flight academic publication, after all, but rather in a little journal rooted in the faith tradition of barely a score of colleges around the country. If I were worth my academic salt, I’d be publishing a book of ground-breaking criticism or a Pulitzer Prize-winning play. But I’m not doing those things, so I must be bogus. I don’t measure up. I fall short. You must find me laughable, pathetic.

A third true story: I’m blessed. I’m learning so much about sound design that will be useful in the theater and in the classroom, and I’m working with wildly enthusiastic and surprisingly skilled people, who have enough discipline and moxie to pull this off. And I’m helping them do it–and I’m having a blast. And then I get to immerse myself in Shakespeare for THREE MONTHS! For me, a lover of his language, this is to die for. Plus I’ll learn so much about both acting and directing–and a thousand other things about theater–that I can weave into my own practice and teaching. And I’ll be doing this with people whose skill level will force me to raise my own, while collectively we enable a few thousand people to experience the work of perhaps the greatest dramatist ever. What an opportunity! And in the meantime, I’ve written something that will catch the attention of several hundred serious and thoughtful people (as opposed to the handful who read any given article in most academic journals), and generate authentic discussion about issues they find important. For a writer, what greater gift? Like I say, I’m blessed. You must think I’m . . . well, actually, it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m blessed.

Again, these stories are all true: that is, all of the claims I’ve made in each one are accurate. And each of them has its value. The first story is my marketing story: the one I’ll tell my dean, when I return from sabbatical. The second story is the one I tell myself when I start taking the first story seriously. This is my reality-check story. But the story most likely to lead in a personally productive direction is of course the third, because it focuses on the real value of my experience, to myself and to others. This is a love story. When our stories are all about our success or our failure, or about how we’re being perceived, we’re missing the point. Better to count our blessings, and marshall our facts of life into a narrative of gratitude and joy.

Tags: career, choice, gratitude, story, work
Posted in Tell A Story | 2 Comments »

Asking More of Me

Written by Jennifer on 10th August 2010

I have a love/hate relationship with yoga, by which I mean this:

I feel amazing when I practice

I’d really rather not practice

When I do practice – which over the last year has varied from once every other week to about three times per week – I practice at home. I even have a “yoga room,” which is almost entirely empty and painted orange.

So even though I’m not the most disciplined student, I’m both experienced and routine enough to feel comfortable walking into about any studio class. Which is exactly what I did yesterday, when I discovered:

I’m really not that flexible

I’m really not that strong

I’m really not that focused

As I was pondering the disparity between my home practice and the studio practice and noticing how little I challenge myself when I’m at home, I began to feel a little discouraged and, well, lazy. I mean, clearly you can’t get loose hamstrings by holding adho mukha svanasana for 10 seconds with your knees bent! It seems I’m not as likely to get where I want to be when I go it alone.

There are many reasons I “showed up” more fully and worked with a stronger intention at the studio class. There was a teacher to correct me and fellow students to keep up with. But mostly? Mostly, someone just asked more of me than I had asked of myself.

This got me thinking about my clients, who essentially ask me to do the same for them. And I felt all aglow that I have this privilege, that I get to experience people who are willing to put themselves out there, knowing I’m going to ask them to go a little deeper into a twist or repeat a vinyasa.

It’s asking a lot of yourself to ask someone else to ask you to go further, or deeper or longer than you would on your own. It takes courage and self-awareness and humility.

Plus, you can pretty much rest assured that you’re going to be sore the next day!

Tags: courage, gratitude, life coaching, yoga
Posted in coaching | 2 Comments »

Occupational Hazards

Written by Jennifer on 6th August 2010

I listen. A lot. But professionally, it’s more than listening. It’s about creating a space that’s all about the other person and being present to their needs and wants.

Recently, I’ve begun to notice that I’m doing this personally. It can be hard for me to assert myself in a conversation the way other people do. I often wait to be asked what’s going on as opposed to launching into the story of what’s going on for me. I hold back. It’s like I reflexively keep the focus on the other person.

So when I was out for a walk with one of my best girlfriends last night, I found myself continually asking questions, listening, empathizing and offering feedback. I wasn’t being a coach, per say, but I also wasn’t being a friend: I wasn’t giving her the chance to ask follow-up questions, to listen, to empathize, to offer me feedback.

As the evening wore on, I began to notice that I was feeling distant and uncared for. Which is precisely when I remembered that few people care about me more than this friend and that I had the ability to ask (implicitly or explicitly) for what I wanted! So at the first opening, I took a deep breath and launched into a long story about my week. And then I launched into another about a personal problem I was facing.

By the end of the night, I had experienced all the intimacy and care that I had wanted. It was available to me the whole time. I just had to reach out and take it!

Tags: abundance, coaching, gratitude, inspiration, listening
Posted in inspiration | No Comments »

Day 11: Flowers (30th Birthday Countdown)

Written by Jennifer on 26th February 2010

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

Yup. We’re talking about the kinda flowers a boy gives a girl.

While I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve received flowers from my husband or for theatrical or choral performances, there’s only one time in my life where the act felt like a momentus occasion.

I was 20 years old and having some version of a cross-country relationship with a guy named Erik I’d met over the summer. We exchanged heartfelt letters (yes, letters!) and had the occasional phone call.

I was also in a play that semester and spending plenty of my nights in rehearsal. The day before the play opened was a long one. I’d left my apartment early for class and didn’t return home until close to midnight, when my roommate informed me that the student union had called earlier. There was a package awaiting me.

Never one to turn down a package, I turned right around and walked across campus to the student union where I found the most gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the desk. They were from Erik.

As I’ve said, I’ve received many bouquets of flowers. But this was first time as a woman that I encountered a man going out of his way to express affection for me. I sat up a long time that night enjoying the warm California air – unable to call Erik due to the time difference – feeling tremendously appreciative and delighted. Feeling, for the first time, overwhelmed by the simple pleasures of romance, by the joy at being celebrated by a man.

Tags: celebration, change, gratitude
Posted in celebration, change, gratitude | 1 Comment »

Eternal Ephemera

Written by Jennifer on 24th November 2009

Most of us have those boxes – old shoeboxes or plastic bins the size of small trunks – that get filled up with the ephemera and memorabilia of our lives. The medals we won doing the backwards crab walk at Field Day in the 3^rd grade; the Girl Scouts uniform with a sash full of patches; the scholarship essays that resulted in bonds that will be worth face value by the time Medicare kicks in.

And for me, during a recent basement organization project, it also included pained poems written by my teenaged self and love letters from my very first boyfriend.

I’ll spare myself (and that first boyfriend) from sharing the details of said ephemera here. I will offer, however, that which was most fascinating to me, most surprising about what I’d written: the person I am now, I was then and the person I was then, I am now.

I have long believed that life is not only a process of creation, but one of discovery and I am more convinced of that now than ever before. Underneath the teenage experience and angst in my journals and poetry is some core part of the same person who shows up today to write this blog. I am certain it is the same person who will (I hope) one day write about what she’s experiencing in 2045.

As I find myself nearing this Thanksgiving holiday, I am surprised to note that I feel most thankful for the simple fact that I am me. Not because of what I have or what I’ve done or who I know – although I could fill tomes with gratitude for those things. And not in spite of all my shortcomings and limitations. I am thankful because there’s this essential, unchanging part of me that is amazing.

Last week, I had the opportunity to see that very first boyfriend and I copied two of those love letters and returned them to him. While the letters were addressed to me, they speak volumes about who he was, who he no doubt still is. It is my hope that they offer him a window into his own beautiful self and that he feels gratitude for that essential, unchanging part of who he is.

May you, too, celebrate with much thanks the beautiful person you are. What a tremendous gift!

Tags: ephemera, gratitude, inspiration, self
Posted in authenticity, gratitude, happiness, holidays | 3 Comments »