churning, but not really moving

Sometimes I am really really busy. This is one of those times. At the same time, I feel like not much is happening. I am working a lot, seven days a week most of the time. I have a database re-development, a server migration, a web server upgrade, and a change to our credit card processing, all happening at the same time. It's a lot of effort, and all to crucial systems. It really has to go well, right out of the gate. I don't feel as anxious about it as I normally would, and I am not feeling the pressure the same way. It's not that I don't care -- I really do want it to all go well. It's just that I don't care with the same weight and urgency that I used to have. I guess I finally understand that it's an important task, but it's not earth-shattering. It's not life and death. I have more perspective than I've had before.

We are going to start looking at colleges next week. This is a big year for our son, his senior year of high school. He is working at getting his license, taking a really demanding course load, and is trying to squeeze in some fun at the same time. I want to enjoy the year, and try to savor the "mom" time as it slowly slips away. It's also a year with big tasks for me -- making sure I don't miss deadlines, making sure we see the schools we need to see, talk to the people we need to talk to, and meet our financial goals for the coming year. I haven't felt this torn between my two hats since our child was a toddler. I want to spend all my time on my mom hat, but need to spend as much time as possible on my work hat.

The funny thing is that I know that in six months all the work on both fronts will be largely done. All the "huge" stuff will have resolved, one way or another. In the meantime, I just need to relax and let it flow.

rumination on meditation

I have been meditating daily for more than 6 months now. I don't meditate for long, sometimes only 5 minutes, usually 10-15, first thing in the morning. I used to meditate, sitting in a comfy chair. Recently, I've moved to a cushion on the floor.

Originally, I meditated because it was a requirement for a study I was in. Now I meditate because I seem to need it. When I don't do it, I feel like something is missing. It calms me. It centers me. It heals me. Occasionally, it challenges me.

Sometimes, I sit and nothing happens. On those days, I get 10 minutes of peace and quiet, and nothing more. Sometimes I get an up close view of what I am thinking and feeling, and that's not always a fun time. Sometimes I get insights. Sometimes I just feel happy, or connected, or I feel awash with love for everything. Sometimes, I feel agitated, unable to settle.

Certain patterns have emerged. If I am troubled about a person, even if I am not consciously aware that I am, I will see their face until I acknowledge that there is something I need to resolve, and then it will go away and I can go back to my meditation. I get phrases that crop up -- these are like notes from my unconscious, I think. Once it was a solid week of "body and mind are one". Clearly this was something important I needed to understand. The last day or so have been nested russian dolls, "I am. We are. It is." I am still puzzling out all that I am supposed to understand about that. "It's not about you" was one that was a part of my sessions, but has since cropped up from time to time as I meditate.

Sometimes, I am just sitting there with ...me. I see the desire for attention, or the need for importance. I see pettiness, insecurity, selfishness. I can be stunned by my real feelings, real motivations. I can acknowledge the fear, or anger, or sadness. It can be painful and eye-opening to really see your uncensored self, but it is also illuminating. I had no idea how much I filtered, or hid from myself.

Sometimes there are no words, just a light, and a stillness that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere. Just the now, the infinite moment. In that there is the sound of the insects buzzing, the birds singing, the rustle of leaves, the cool on my skin, the unyielding floor beneath me. I can feel my heart beat, hear and feel my breathing.

It seems to me that an enormous amount can happen, with just 10 minutes of stillness a day.

an interesting ending, a new beginning

Today was my last day in the study. I went for an exit interview, a slew of paper and computer tests, a blood draw, a final meeting with my study guide assistant. I went in at 10am. First up, a 1 inch stack of paperwork. I filled out quality of life surveys, gratitude surveys, attitude surveys, a death perception survey. I filled out general psych surveys. I answered questions about my goals. I answered questions about my general emotional state. I clicked a mouse for long lines displayed on a screen, and tried to NOT click when the displayed line was short. I clicked buttons to cooperate or not, earning fake money depending on which option the computer chose. I filled out more paperwork.

Then I went down to the lab for a blood draw. Nurse 1 kept thumping my veins and shaking his head. He tied the rubber tubing around one arm, thumped, shook his head. Then he moved the rubber tubing to the 2nd arm, thumped my veins, shook his head. He moved the rubber tubing back to the first arm and stuck the needle in. Missed the vein. He tried again. Missed again. Then he called in another nurse. She repeated the routine. She stuck me once, missed the vein. Stuck me again, said she knew she got it that time, but no blood. She called another nurse. She thumped by veins, found one she liked, and got the sample. I recited my mantra in my head, took deep breaths and tried to keep the nurses calm during the whole procedure.

Bandaids on both arms, and feeling like a pincushion, I went back upstairs. I met with one of the psychologists to discuss my overall experience, what I felt I got out of the psilocybin, the meditation, the mantra, the groups.

THen I met with another psychologist, to talk some more about the study. We talked for a few minutes and then the building began to shake. We both thought it was the construction crew outside, colliding with the building. The shaking got worse. A painting flew off the wall, and the file cabinet drawers started rattling. We ran out into the hall, I grabbed my backpack and we headed down the stairs with everyone working on the floor. When we got downstairs, the guard said it was the entire medical center, not just the building. Not a construction accident, a 5.9 earthquake. We stood out in the parking lot, and did more of my exit interview. I took a few minutes to call home, and make sure everyone was fine.

After about 20 minutes, we got the all clear and went back in. I finished up my interview, and met with my study assistant. We talked about different types of meditation, and she had some suggestions for things I might want to try. We hugged, and she walked me back downstairs.

The study was officially over, with a most interesting ending, I think. I certainly will never forget it.

Today was also a new beginning. Now I meditate because I meditate. I use my mantra, because that's what I do. I don't do it for the study, and I won't have guidance, or input, or requirements. It will be what I do because I want to, or need to do it. And it will be something I do on my own. I look forward to where it takes me.

paper losses don't mean much

I've lost about fifteen thousand dollars this week, on paper. S&P cut the US credit rating, and the resulting uncertainty has sent the stock market into a tailspin. I am not saying this because I want sympathy, or because I am particularly concerned. It's a paper loss, affecting money I have never seen. This is retirement money for us, and we are far from retirement age. So really, while I could sit and gnash my teeth, I have only "lost" what I never really had.

On the other side of the world, in Somalia, 29,000 children have died from starvation. 350,000 more are in danger of suffering the same fate. For their families, this loss is real, and immediate, and devastating.

It seems to me that my little loss just doesn't mean much.

not so far apart

from the rhetoric flying around washington, you would think that their is a chasm between those on the right and those on the left. I sit firmly on the left. So I wondered how far apart are we, really?

Here's what I believe --

I believe in strong families. I believe marriage depends on two consenting adults, in a committed, monogamous relationship. I think the raising of children is an important endeavor, vital to the success of our society.

I believe in keeping your word. Pay your debts. Be honest. Live an ethical life.

I believe in hard work. I think there is honor in any job well done. I expect to be loyal to my employer, and expect my employer to be loyal to me. I expect a living wage.

I believe in the American Dream. If I work hard, educate myself, and follow the rules, I should prosper.

I believe all citizens are equal before the law, and in the eyes of their fellow citizens.

I want safety, security, health, a solid future for my child.

The big differences are in the details, I guess -- how these beliefs get translated into policy.

I am willing to pay taxes, to live in a world where what I believe is true for ALL Americans, not just some. I am unwilling to prosper on the backs of my fellow citizens. I don't believe what's good for corporations is necessarily good for the people. I don't believe the wealthy need to be protected from paying their fair share. I want equality for all citizens, not just straight, Christian, born in America citizens.

I guess that's the gap.

some musings on getting older

I turned 49 this weekend. I know I'm not supposed to tell my age, but I just can't see why it's a big deal. It's how old I am. I like being 49. I liked being 48. I am guessing I will like 50 too. Not liking my age would be like not liking my big toe. It's just part of who I am.

The other day, we were having a conversation with our waiter. Our son had turned 17, and our waiter wanted desperately to be 17 again. I thought about it. You couldn't pay me enough to go back to being a teenager. All that anxiety, and uncertainty. Trying to be cool. Trying to fit in. So much fear about the future. No thanks.

While I had a blast in my twenties, I wouldn't go back to that either. Such a manic time. Really high highs, and really low lows. Still not sure who I was, or what I wanted, and scared I wouldn't get it, even though I didn't know what "it" was.

I infinitely prefer the more "mature" me. I know who I am. I know what I want, and what I don't. I have built a life that makes me happy. I am as successful as I am ever going to get, and I am content. I don't need anything, or really want for anything either. My life is full of good friends, much love, and good times.

There are prices to aging. My knees hurt. My hair is turning white. I struggle with my weight. I don't see as well as I did. I can't stay up all night, at least not if I have to get up the next day. I sometimes forget things I want to remember. Perimenopause has been no fun at all. I have to get up at night to pee.

Still and all, I'll take it. All of it is as it should be. A sign that I've been here a while, and have a few miles (and the memories to go with them) on me. At 49, I can say it's all good.

another step on the road

Our son turned 17 yesterday. It's another step on the road to...away. He is job hunting, working on getting his license, looking at colleges. It's all as it should be. On the one hand, I am proud. He's everything I wanted in a child, and he's turned into a good man. On the other hand, I'm a mom. What am I when he leaves home? Intellectually, I know that I'm still me. I know that I will always be his mother. But the day to day part I play in his life will largely be a thing of the past, and relatively soon. And what I know in my mind has yet to reach my heart.

I hope I can manage to approach this year with grace, and with a greatful heart.

wanting what I haven't got

I don't think money is the root of all evil; I think wanting is. It seems to me that when I am unhappy, when I feel discontented, it is almost always because I want something I haven't got. I chafe at my older model car, because I see all the shiny new ones. There is nothing wrong with my car. Nothing. I just suddenly value it less, judge it more harshly, because I want a new one. I see someone's vacation pictures, and suddenly feel stifled by my job. I want a book or a CD or a new movie. I start resenting the money I have to spend on the dog.

Wanting what you haven't got, you become a judge, weighing what you have against what others have. You become resentful, because you are so deserving, and others, who deserve less, have more. You become selfish, because when you focus on your own wants, you have no room for others.

This kind of want, that doesn't stem from true need, is destructive, seductive, powerful, but ultimately, unfillable.

its not about me

one of the things that I came away from my sessions with is the idea that "its not about me". This means more than it seems to mean on the surface. It is about giving into the idea that we are all one thing. Not distinct separate entities, but part of the ALL. It is about surrendering the individual will, the individual desires and just allowing the universe to be what it is, without attempting to shape or control or fight what is.

Apparently the universe can drive along just fine, without me at the wheel. This is humbling. This is also freeing. It is also hard to put into practice. The temptation to control things, to manage, to HELP, to shape, is profoundly enticing. I'm here, I matter, I can bend things to my desire and will. LIke a two year old, ME DO.

Except. I can let things be. I can not act. Let what's going to happen just happen.

because of Scott

because of Scott, I had a lot to think about today. I am guessing, because he was 47 years old, that he thought he had tons of time -- time to say I love you, or thanks, or you mean a lot to me. Time to say I'm sorry, I screwed up, I need you, I appreciate it. That's what I think, and I'm only a couple of years older. I am guessing he didn't spend a lot of time thinking about how he wanted to live his last days. I think that's something that occurs to you when you are much older.

because of Scott, I thought about the things he maybe didn't have time for, and said the things that maybe he never got around to saying.

Rest in peace, Scott.

happy tired

I am exhausted. I slept a little less than three hours, so that I could take our son and a friend to pick up their bus to the airport at 2am. But I am a happy tired. My son is in Costa Rica for a week, on a high school Spanish trip. I love being able to give him this kind of experience. The night before, I stayed up until 12:30, waiting for him to get home from his first rock concert. He saw U2 at a large stadium near our home, with some of his best buds. He was almost glowing as he told me about the show.

I love all of this, even when it knocks me out. Because it's what I always hoped for. Our kid is happy, healthy, well-adjusted. He has good friends. He has opinions, interests, talents, a life. I would give up sleep for weeks to see the smile on his face, the joy and excitement that come with new experiences. SWEET!

what is compassionate?

I am struggling the last week or two with what is compassionate? How do you know when you are truly acting from compassion? and in a situation where there is pain all around, how do you know which action is more compassionate?

Does compassion require action at all? Can I be loving, be compassionate, and still let events unfold without my doing anything at all?

To give a non-human example -- our dog is in pain. A lot of pain, a lot of the time. His test results show hip dysplasia, spinal disk degeneration, a spinal cyst, stenosis. He already has mitral valve degeneration, and a heart defect. Yet he is happy much of the time, and seems to enjoy his life. Do we keep taking him to the vet? have his hip replaced, or the cyst removed? At what point are we serving ourselves and not the dog? what is the compassionate thing to do? Are we taking him to the vet for him, or for us? If its for him, will we know when it switches to being about us?

when do you act? when do you not act? does motive matter?

extending the metaphor

So, I talked the other day about parenting yourself. Once I had accepted that idea, and begun to put it into practice, I realized that I had to extend the metaphor. If we are all truly interconnected, and I have to parent myself, it follows that I have to parent everything.

I have to extend that same respect, tenderness, and nurturing that I offer myself as far as I can. I have to extend that difficult job of letting go, of encouraging growth, of being stern when needed, out beyond the boundary of self and into the world.

I have wondered before what compassion demands. How can we forgive, or love, someone who does terrible things? I think now, I have the answer. I can do it as a parent does it, when their child disappoints or does something hateful. Sometimes you have to attempt to correct the behavior; sometimes you have to step back and let the lesson unfold. Sometimes you can do nothing at all-just hope for the best.

parenting yourself

An idea has emerged from my most recent meditation sessions -- that you should parent yourself. By that I mean that you should treat yourself as if you were your own child. Instead of the inner voice being critical -- too fat, a failure, bad mother, bad wife, shouldn't have said that, done that, etc - it should be maternal. "Next time you'll do better." Or "you're beautiful the way you are" or maybe you just need some rest, or soup, or an extra hug. Maybe you should coddle yourself a little. Be firm when you need it. Approach yourself with tenderness. With care. With love. Unconditionally.

schools out

So for me, school is over. I graduated on Friday. I've finally completed something I started way back in 1992, when I took my first graduate school class.

Friday morning, I met my fellow graduates in the gym by Homewood field. We helped each other figure out the mystery of how to wear a hood with our cap and gowns. A half hour before graduation we were still discussing classes, papers, professors. We were done, but the idea hadn't caught up to us yet, and we were still very much students together.

We marched across the astroturf, and through the tunnel set up for us. We joked, pointed out each others families, noticed how serious and young the other graduates were, the engineers and scientists. We settled in to our rows, fanning each other, cooling each other with water bottles. We listened to the speakers, although they seemed to be speaking to the other graduates. We were exhorted to solve the problems of climate change, and our planet. We asked each other if we could manage that with an essay or poem... We watched for our pictures on the huge video screens, applauded when one of us came into view.

We waited our turn. The other graduates walked solemnly across the stage. serious hand shakes, a quick pose for a photograph. degree after degree.

At last, our turn. Master of Arts in Liberal Arts. We got our hand shake, but also hugs, and a few tears. Back to our seats and a chance to relax a bit. We congratulated each other, and told each other how proud and happy we were to graduate together. And we meant it.

I got a piece of paper on Friday, a degree that says the University recognizes my achievement. But what I got for the last 5 years was worth much more -- a real community that will always be a part of me.

status update

so -- it's been 5 months since I looked at my progress on various fronts. I have lost 16 pounds since January 1. I am really pleased with my progress. I think I was successful this time because I was not alone in my attempt. Friends from work, and from online, were also trying to lose weight and we encouraged each other.

I have walked 3-5 days a week since January. I walk a very brisk 1.5 miles during lunch, usually with a couple of friends from work. This has reduced my stress level. I also don't get so sleepy in the afternoon.

I finished graduate school. I turned in my portfolio, and while it wasn't stellar, I thought it came out pretty well. I definitely was pleased, looking back at my experience, and at the work I'd done.

Work has gone well. I feel like I am learning and improving there as well.

I'm continuing to meditate every morning, and journal every day.

I feel more relaxed, more centered, healthier. I feel content.

finding the balance

I have been struggling with the practical applications of my recent experiences. Simply put, I know things, so how do I apply what I know? We are all connected. What does that mean in my day to day life? I believe everyone does the best they can. No one tries to be an asshole. No one means to live a bad life (or they do and are so damaged they couldn't do otherwise). I find myself excusing the guy who cuts me off in traffic because he was probably late to his kids school, or if he's late to work he'll lose his job. I still get mad, but it fritters away to nothing. How much edge do I lose? Can i retain all my "self"? is a kinder, gentler me possible? would I still be me?

I think I will be struggling to find a balance for a while.

slowly, the wheels turn

slowly the wheels turn. I am still processing all that happened during my two psilocybin experiences, still mulling over what I now know, and what that means about me, and for me. from time to time, I will share my current thoughts, based on what I've processed so far.

I have always felt rather shallow, because I don't tend to be self-analyzing. I just live. If I make a mistake, I try to improve. If I see a problem, I try to fix it. But I don't spend time thinking about it. I don't scrutinize, analyze, or obsess. I have always been about the what, and the how, and not the why.

I no longer feel bad about it. In both experiences, I got a very clear picture that the IS, is what is significant. I think the desire for the WHY is about fear, or maybe control. Why are we here? is a question driven out of a fear that you aren't living the way you should, or that you are missing something vital. If you knew the why, you could do things differently, you could maybe game the system, or not waste time on the wrong things.

But really, if you knew, if you really truly knew the why, what would it change? you are already doing the best you can, and you are already living your life your way. If you let go of the fear, and the desire to control, the why seems to lose it's attraction.

I am not saying that "why" can't be important. When there is a specific problem to solve, it is essential. It drives science and exploration. I just think we apply the question to everything, because it works so well in some areas. It's the universal hammer, and everything begins to look like a nail.

Instead of "why me?", maybe "now what?" or "how do I move forward?" is the truly useful question. Instead of "why am I here", maybe "I am here -- how do I make the most of it?"

guinea pig, the next next chapter

Today was my second psilocybin session. What follows is my report for the study guides:

Report – session 2

This session was very different. The first was transcendence, exaltation, joy, humor. This was prosaic. This was more about me, not the universal. I got to see how my mind works. I mean that literally. I got to …see…how my mind works. I saw it take my recent experiences, and add them to my existing symbol set and filter it all into some sort of order. It was beautiful and illuminating. I had a lovely sequence of rediscovering my arms, my fingers, of how my fingers worked. I marveled and enjoyed the mechanics of it all. I rediscovered music. That doesn’t exactly describe it. It was like I never heard it before, and I played with it, puzzling it out. Oh, this is how music works. I understood it. I was in a tribe, in Africa. Mud, wood, drums. And I called to my friends, each by name, and they came, and became part of my tribe.We danced and it was good. I was in Egypt. I could read the hieroglyphics. Water was everything. It pulsed through my culture, controlled what you were or how you were honored.I had the secret of the water, and that was good. I was in Vallhalla, feeling that I would fight and die with the people at the table, and that it was good. I watched the Gods rage on Olympus, tapping my foot with impatience, waiting for them to finish their bluster and games. It seemed such a distraction, and beside the point. The real answer was the day to day, the big IS. The rest was just ….theater.

There was work today. Three times I had to give something up. The first time, I had to give up language. Words broke apart and became meaningless sounds. And I got the message. I would move no further until I gave up language. It was a struggle. Really really hard. But I did, and as soon as I let it go, everything made sense again. The second time, I had to give up control. Again I got the message. I would move no further until I gave up Control. It was really hard. But I did, and as soon as I let go, I could move. The third time was the hardest for me. This time, I had to give up self. I had to really struggle, but in the end, I did what was asked. And felt an incredible sense of unity, of peace.

Several times, I felt I was done. I crossed my arms and said, “nope, not gonna do it”. I mean that literally. I was flat on my back, with my arms crossed, my foot tapping and all the defiance of an eight year old. Nope, You aren’t the boss of me. I am tired, and I’m hungry and I am not doing this. And then I waited. But it wasn’t over. I was just not going to get my way. Each time this happened, I eventually gave in. There was no point in insisting, so I might as well enjoy the ride.

This was all hard work. But it felt good. I feel like I did something today. I connected with the universal past, I survived many trials, and I persevered. I earned my place in the family of man. I don’t know how else to word it, but that’s what it felt like to me.

missing Dave

A dear friend died the other day.

We met back in college, when I was a freshman and he was a graduate student. He was a "friend of a friend", and I met him through our frequent D&D games. We were unlikely friends. He was on the far end of the nerdy spectrum. Bad clothes, awkward social skills, irritable, long winded. But he had a great sense of humor. He was one of the most knowledgeable people I had ever met, on a wide variety of topics. And he was unfailingly kind.

Over the years, he became part of our lives. I remember going to the beach, parties, an infamous trivial pursuit game, funerals, weddings. The wooden tractor he bought for Mike when he was little. Emails, books borrowed and lent, movies seen, meals shared.

We worried about Dave. His health was poor. He suffered from juvenile diabetes, and the complications that came with it. In the end, it killed him.

I'm really going to miss him.

RIP David L Bongard