Savoring Summer
Every year, when I think about summer, I notice this big competition in my brain. On the one hand, I picture all the good stuff from my childhood - a blank expanse of days to do with what I want, run around in the sprinkler, go to the pool, eat popsicles, ride bikes until it's too dark to see, read endlessly without interruption, and go camping! On the other hand, the adult part of my brain stacks up a bunch of projects and tasks that are going to get done "this summer". Like my brand new website. And cool programs I'm working on. And lots of writing. And house renovation stuff. The list can get pretty long. And worrying about or avoiding what's on the "adult" list or slogging through too many projects in one day both can cut into my ability to enjoy the fun stuff. If I've worked all day I'm resentful that there wasn't some lovely pool time, and if I've avoided or worried instead, maybe "sneaking" some fun in like a marathon reading session of a book I can't put down, then I'm also kind of miserable, because I didn't do my work. This summer I've decided to change things up. The first thing I realized I needed to change were my unreasonable expectations about what I can actually accomplish in a summer. Summer is not infinite, even though it seemed that way in early June back when we were seven years old. The other thing I realized is that I was tired of not enjoying the "fun" things because I was only half there, the other half of me worrying about the big projects that were sitting untouched. So I decided to get gentle with myself. I sat down and created a beautiful vision board for summer with lots of relaxing pinks and blues, and words like "gentle", "short and sweet", "easy" and "celebrate".
I decided to prioritize a couple of extra-fun things for myself. I'm studying French! I'm practicing French every day, something completely new to me, and it is such FUN! I'm also making sure there are plenty of excursions, big and small, this summer. About two days after I made this board, I headed out on the Appalachian Trail for a week, and look at what I saw on the first day!
It's like my vision board came to life before my eyes, with the exact same colors. The woods were full of pink rhododendrons and fluffy white mountain laurel. The clouds and sky were lavender and blue. Truly magical.
Oh, and the couple of big projects like my website and programs? Now that I've given myself some space and permission to have some real and unobstructed fun, they're happening too, in a reasonable and happy way. Free (mostly) of angst. I know - it sounds kind of pie in the sky. But it's amazing how some tiny mental shifts can make such a difference.
If you're in a similar boat and want a little more help getting your summer straight and having it be a tasty mix of fun and getting stuff done, you're invited to my one hour class called Pie in the Sky! It's on Tuesday, June 25, 7:30 p.m. Central, on the phone (recorded if you can't make it live), and it's going to be fabulous! Pie recipes will be included! We'll figure out how you can savor your summer instead of slog through it, while still getting some major stuff accomplished. Details and sign up here. Come join if it feels delicious!
Saying goodbye to Buster
I sat for quite a while next to the grave, my hands palms down in the fresh dirt. Just sitting. Breathing. I was surprised to notice a red and white marble, unearthed earlier. I picked it up and held it, then put it down. Everything felt like slow motion. I watched a grub who'd been disturbed during the burial unroll and slowly crawl its way back into the soil. I sat for a long time. Just sitting there. Bird song all around. Sun shining bright. Young mockingbirds peeping. I didn't know what else to do. It was a beautiful, beautiful day.
Before I buried him in a perfectly sized hole dug lovingly by my husband, I arranged him gently on a towel. He looked so much like he was sleeping. I'd been petting him and talking to him for quite some time since I'd brought him home - I had trouble believing he wasn't really in there anymore able to hear me. I combed the matted places on his front paws where his runny nose had clumped the fur. I cleaned him and combed him. I left him in the sun on the towel in the dried leaves in the flowerbed, in the place he used to love so much, to go gather some blossoms for him.
I picked petunias (he used to sleep amidst the petunias), salvia, clover flowers and roses. When I leaned over to pick a giant pink rose I almost tripped over our resident box turtle who I rarely see, but who'd made an appearance earlier in the morning at the other end of the yard. Noticing her twice felt like a sign.
In fact earlier that morning there were two turtles. One who I had only seen for the first time the day before, in the back yard under the bananas. And then again, that morning, crawling right at the edge of the freshly dug hole. A minute later his companion (are they companions?) emerged, purposefully striding over the stepping-stones to the flowerbed. Were they here to be witnesses? Guides? Messengers? Or just plain old yard turtles?
So I gathered the flowers. I laid him, wrapped carefully in the towel, curled up as if sleeping, into the grave. I placed the flowers on the towel. I covered him with the soil. I so didn't want to. I briefly considered digging him up so I could hold him one more time. Why not go completely crazy, like a character in a Faulkner short story, and take his sweet furry corpse to bed?
We used to tease Buster about having him stuffed when he died - he was so beautiful, so loving - so cuddly - his favorite thing was to be carried around or to hold court on a lap. Any lap anywhere would do. He would press his forehead against mine and purr and purr and purr.
But he couldn't stay. He was so weak. So small. Less than half his original weight. I slept near him in the back room his last five nights because he couldn't really walk well. He would hoist himself up and stagger to the litter box, but if I didn't spot him, he would topple to one side and lay there, unable to right himself.
When I brought him food and water, during his final days, he would eat and drink tiny amounts, mildly enthusiastically, almost as if to please me. Occasionally over the last several weeks, the wonders of subcutaneous fluids and steroids would perk him up so he seemed almost himself - able to hop on a lap, interested in going outside to sit in the grass. He purred throughout; even the last morning he was able to muster a tiny purr. So weak but so sweet.
When I brought him to the vet, the Spa radio station was playing a perfect lullaby. It's a beautiful song about sailing silver ships over a silver sky. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73d7DaxZWpk] My heart broke open. I didn't want him in a silver ship, sleeping, in the sky - I wanted him better, happy, here, alive, well. But he went very peacefully. He was ready.
I have been heavy with grief. When I'm alone, I let it wash over. Crying, talking to him, just being sad. I know he's "more with me now than ever", but I miss his furry, purring, present form. I miss his white nose. His sometimes demanding meow. I miss his almost ubiquitous presence. He was never far away.
I've never experienced such a desire to know where he is and what it's like. Has he crossed the "Rainbow Bridge?" Is his soul already occupying some other creature? Is he floating nearby, watching over me, a cat angel? Has his wonderful Buster energy just dissipated through the Universe? I don't know. It's so silly, but I keep gazing into the sky looking for cat-shaped clouds. Or some other sign. Some clue that he's somewhere.
I have fantasies of Buster living on in artwork, like George Rodrigue of Blue Dog fame did with his dog, Tiffany. I picture Buster's face with angel wings. Like a cherub. Only a cat.
Some of you may be reading this and thinking, "Geez, he was just a cat." How could this be such a loss?
Buster was different to us. We have had a lot of sweet cats. Buster's sister is still with us, and absolutely adorable and very friendly. But Buster was superlative. He had a giant personality. He didn't seem so much like a cat. He wanted to be with us, where the action was. If there was a lap, he was in it. If I went to sit in the grass, he joined me. When he was healthier he would hop our picket fence and wait on the sidewalk for us to come home. He would come to the car, meowing in greeting, "Where have you been?" He converted anti-cat people into cat people. I know at least two people who have cats now because they met Buster.
He and his sister were rescued as kittens from under the Bead Shop in New Orleans. They came home to join two grown cats we already had. They were our first kittens together. They lived in the bathroom at first, chasing rubber balls around the tub. Buster was sweet and curious and purry and cuddly from the start.
And for the past nearly fourteen years, he's been there. Part of the family. Especially now that I work from home. He was by my side when I took my oral test for coach certification. He was often nearby when I was coaching clients. He sat on my lap and purred while I tutored students. He was around. In the yard or on the porch or in the kitchen or in the bed when it was cold.
He loved being carried. If he was on my lap and I had to get up to grab something, I'd just put him over my shoulder and take him with me. He was boneless that way, soft and pose-able and so happy. And if he was in my lap sleeping especially peacefully, I would holler to my sweetheart, "I'm trapped under a cat - can you bring me the ___?"
He was completely trusting. Not skittish at all. He would sprawl out in the middle of the front walk and not move when the mail carrier came - she would have to step around him. He wasn't afraid of vacuum cleaners or blenders or other loud noises. He'd never been harmed by people - only cuddled. He didn't see any reason to run away.
He got into his share of fights in his younger years, and had plenty of cuts, abscesses and other nicks and scratches. And he'd been very ill on and off for two years, so we were lucky to have him as long as we did.
He was an excellent hunter. He could jump four feet in the air to catch a rat in the banana trees. He was an excellent napper too. He could sleep anywhere.
He was beautiful. His coat was a black/grey stripey fudge ripple. His back feet were white and huge like a jackrabbit's. His front paws and his neck and chest were white too, and he had a little asymmetrical white blaze on his nose. His eyes were expressive, sweet, expectant, loving, curious. His purr was loud and rumbly. My husband called him "Buster Boy, Kitty of Joy." And he was.
I don't have lessons or insights for you about grief yet. Knowing he had a wonderful full life doesn't seem to help with the empty sadness. I know time will help. And I am letting myself feel sad (very sad) in the meantime, tucked in between the places where I am out in the world, doing my work. It's been less than a week. It will get better. I still feel the crazy impulse to go out there and pull him out of his grave, but not really. His body is likely already returning to the earth. A good friend sent us a tiny oak seedling in memory of him. He can be part of that tree, the soil, the air, the clouds.
Goodbye, sweet Buster.
Are you missing the three-leafed clovers?
I've had a really sick cat. (But he might be getting better.) And I'm not beyond being a little superstitious, even when it's a bit silly. So today, when we got home from the vet, he went out to rest in the grass and I decided to join him as I often do. Grass time is always important. And while I was sitting there, amidst the clover, I thought I'd search for a four-leafed clover. They're not as uncommon as you might think, and I thought finding one could be a sign. Something to comfort me. To convince me that everything would be ok, and that Buster isn't on his ninth life just quite yet. One like this one I found in about two minutes a month or so ago.
So I ruffled through the leaves, gazed past all the three-leafed clovers, looking for my prize. And then something happened. I got caught up in how pretty the raindrops looked on the leaves. I ruminated about the cycle of life, right there before me, in fresh clover flowers and ones that had already browned and gone to seed. I noticed how many shades of green there are, just in clover leaves.
And I realized I didn't need to find a four-leafed clover today. I already had my prize.
How often in life do we skip over all the beautiful everyday moments - the three-leafed clovers- while we're waiting and searching, anticipating our prize - a big event, a vacation, something major to look forward to? It's fascinating, isn't it?
How would life be different if we did a better job of noticing three-leafed clovers? All the small miracles - all the beauty and magic that surrounds us. How many millions of three-leafed clover moments are there - ready to be savored and appreciated?
What three-leafed clover moments have you noticed lately? I would love to hear about them. Share yours in the comments, if you like.
P. S. As I wrap up this post much later in the evening, I'm happy to report that the sweet cat has indeed revived, yet again. And I am savoring every 3-leafed moment with him.
Badger on the left, Buddha on the right...
I love visualizing my intentions with a vision board. Seems that right now I'm channeling equal parts honey badger (regular badger standing in on left) and Buddha (up on the right.) I'm still not sure what the upcoming trip of a lifetime will be; interestingly, every day is part of that "trip of a lifetime", isn't it? And that's the frame of mind and type of action (and sometimes inaction/rest) I'd like to cultivate. I'm interested in a way of living that's sustainable, not just for the planet, but for my soul.What does it mean to channel equal parts honey badger and Buddha? For me it means plenty of risk taking, going for it, trying things, leaping, being fearless, having fun (honey badger) and also plenty of serenity, presence, rest, awareness, calm, compassion, and love (Buddha). Equal parts doing and being.
Sometimes it's heavier on the being. Less writing, less posting, less sharing, less social media. More time in the grass with the cat, watching the blue jays in the back yard, or visiting with friends in real life while not worrying about "checking in" or photographing my cocktail or my food or our happy faces (although I do all of those too, sometimes!)
Sometimes it's heavier on the doing. Creating and teaching classes. Hosting events. Sharing inspiration. Trying something completely new. Dealing with my ever-overflowing email. Going to parades, parties and plays. Photographing everything!
Tomorrow night I'll be hosting a vision boarding party that includes plenty of wildness-- we'll all be in wigs, we'll be going out dancing, we'll even see some burlesque(!) But first we'll begin with setting our dreams and visions to paper, lovingly, with images and beautiful printed words.
Then Sunday, I'm hosting a wordless walk in the springtime swamp, right at sunset. Quiet, restorative, relaxing. Definitely focused on being.
Do you feel like you have an equal balance of doing and being in your life right now? Is there one side you'd like to cultivate more? More Badger? More Buddha?
If you're looking for more being, try taking a wordless walk in nature. Sign up for my updates and you'll receive my free Wordless Cure for Busyness kit, complete with wordless walk directions and wordless video clips for little tastes of calm.
If you're looking for more doing, grab some friends and plan a fun event out - brunch, dancing, or even a vision boarding party! Here are some simple directions: All you need are magazines, scissors, glue sticks, poster boards and some ideas about what you want in the future and how it's going to feel. Find photos or images that make you think of the goals and the feelings you've chosen, and collage away! Then, most important, look at your vision board every day. Access the great feelings you'll have when your visions come true. Imagine it as if it's happened. When you do that, you'll be amazed at what begins to appear to help your dreams come true. It's not magic, really - it's turning toward what's possible.
Hey! I think I'll host a free virtual vision board party on the evening of May 16, 2013! (I came up with this idea as I wrote this blog post, really! Very badger!) That would be fun! If you want to get more details, make sure you're signed up for updates!
Buddha. Badger. What do you need? Make it happen.
New space, new energy!
We have a saying in coach-land - your outer world reflects your inner world. So if you're feeling stuck, jumbled, overwhelmed or otherwise out of sorts on the inside, there's often a part of your living space that reflects this. I see this with clients - they have a breakthrough and then they clean their entire home, or totally change their hair and clothes, or redo their bedroom, or toss all the old Tupperware in their kitchen. And over the years I've seen it with myself. Things that seemed so important to keep are suddenly needless clutter that is sucking my energy and making my space less livable.
My favorite example of this shifting is my new work space that I'm so in love with I can't even express it! I now have a real place to work in my home - dedicated to just that! The creation of this space has been in process since summer 2008. That's when we converted the "junk room", which was basically like an indoor garage, into a serene space with French doors going out to a brand new deck.
Here's the transformation in pictures: Before any changes, this space was a clutter repository and place to store the bicycles, cat food, tools, cleaning supplies and any and all other stuff we didn't know what to do with. And it looked like this:
Talk about blocked energy! Then, when I quit my teaching job in 2008 and began working from home, the space became this - a complete transformation!
It was still where we stored the bikes, but there was a fabulous futon where I could work. I was always a person who worked on a couch or on the bed, partly because my "official" desk in our house looked like this - still surrounded by the piles of teaching materials that I hadn't yet given away, sorted through or chucked. It was a repository for papers and stuff I didn't want to deal with. If you could do an "energy reading" of the space, I'm sure it would read something like BLOCKED, BLOCKED, BLOCKED! STUCK! BLECH!!!
It was the Hoarders nook of the house. I felt the energy suck from me every time I walked past it. It didn't always look as bad as it does in this pic - sometimes the piles were small and there was nothing on the floor, but it was still a place for papers and other junk to go to die.
Interestingly, I've had a space like this in my life for as long as I can remember. My childhood room grew messy fast. Sometimes I got super-organized and fixed the room up just right, but it quickly deteriorated into paper piles. The same thing happened in college. I had a place for everything in my little dorm room, but the desk was often the place where the disorder would start. And I wouldn't ever sit there to work. I would work from my bed or couch.
I had a friend in college who teased me about being a witch, because I could take my dorm room from completely wrecked to neat and orderly in about half an hour. I just didn't have habits or routines to keep it that way. This continued once I was on my own. I always had a dysfunctional desk space somewhere, and a whole lotta papers and junk around it.
So what's changed in the past week or two? Well, finally I have created a place to sit and work, for real. I have made a room I already love into a beautiful work space! I feel all grown up and productive! And my old desk area where that messy accumulation of papers was? It's disappearing. Nothing will be there soon, so it can be the new storage place for the bikes.
This transformation didn't happen overnight. I had images of beautiful work spaces on my vision board. I began collecting some little items that would eventually decorate the new area, like two ceramic bird candle holders in colors I loved. I just needed something to pull it all together.
Then everything changed with the big catalyst: A table. My friend Elizabeth gifted me a beautiful round painted oak table that she no longer wanted. Months before that, I had carted a bookshelf off the street, and added another piece of furniture to hold art supplies and other creative goodies. But the table shifted everything. Suddenly I had a place for those ceramic bird candles. And a place to sit and create. With a view to the hummingbirds and blue jays outside.
Getting rid of the old desk space has shifted the energy in this house in amazing ways. And having a place to "officially" work, that I LOVE, is making all the difference. I'm excited to sit down and get started, and then put it all away at the end of the day.
Here's the new space with the French doors open - it's almost like working outside!
And being a person who loves re-purposing and saving things from landfills and consuming consciously, I love the story of the table before I received it. Elizabeth rescued it too, from a relative's porch where it was languishing. She did the hard work of cleaning and painting it, and used and loved it in her home for years. And when she was ready to let it go, having rearranged her space (she's an excellent re-arranger of spaces) she passed it to me.
Want to make space shifts in your own world? Here are some easy steps.
1. Find a space in your home that you're currently not happy with. Imagine that space just as you'd like it - no holds barred. Cut out images, draw pictures, collect color swatches - just imagine away!
2. On a regular basis - daily or weekly or whatever feels good to you - take away one thing that doesn't resonate with you in the space. Something that doesn't belong, that no longer serves you, or that you just don't like anymore. Toss it, recycle it, sell it, donate it, relocate it. Then replace it with something you love. Or sometimes, just as effective, enjoy the open space of having nothing there! My little ceramic bird candles nested among the clutter for over a year while they waited for their perfect spot - but seeing them there reminded me that eventually I would fix a space for them that was just right! Little by little, one item at a time, you'll transform your space.
3. If you come from a long line of savers (as I do) be patient with yourself. Take your time and just keep paying attention. Something you thought you had to keep a month ago might now be clutter and ready to be released. If you rearrange and toss items more easily, you may be able to speed up the process and make a big change in a weekend!
4. Watch for big items (like my table!) that will catalyze the change and help your vision from step one become your reality! And when you have a personal breakthrough, note how your space might not reflect the "old you" anymore, and be open to making the new space meet the needs of your new self!
5. If you need to, seek professional help. Find someone who can help you gain some momentum. If you're in the New Orleans area, try Stasia with Clear the Clutter - she comes highly recommended!
I'd love to hear your stories of shifting space and energy in your home or work space. What have you done to create a space you love?