Make a Wish the Sky is Falling

I gazed up from my computer screen at the dark night sky over Los Angeles.  My eyes were met with a glowing ball of fire falling in an arc and disappearing over the city. I was sitting here all alone and it was late. Although I tried to be brave and imagine it was just an average falling star, I couldn't stop the sense of fear that started to take over. My imagination went wild with end of the world scenarios since I'd been looking at the news about the meteor that hit Russia just a few days before. I texted a dear friend that I'd just seen the freakiest thing and that "The sky is falling". Her response? "Wish for a baby unicorn!"

I don't always want to jump to the worst case scenario and I doubt you do either. In any situation we can find a way to see it just as it is rather than blowing it out of proportion. We hold that power, nobody else does. 

Next time I see a fireball, I will make a wish before freaking out. 

I really want a baby unicorn.

What if it Rains?

- Pema Chodron

Me: "What if it rains?"  

Him: "Then we'll hike in the rain" 

I say this over and over to myself all the time now. He didn't know when he said those simple words that I would end up applying them to most of the difficult situations I run into day to day. The rain I was referencing was approaching Big Bear Lake last summer. We were about to leave to hike around that area for the afternoon and I wondered if maybe we shouldn't put it off for a day or two to make sure we'd have perfect hiking weather. He packed our rain jackets and we left. The clouds did roll through but I don't remember even getting sprinkled on. Our hike was stunning and I had almost talked myself out of going. And for what? 

I didn't want to get wet. I thought it would take the fun out of the experience. I was still clinging to my idea of perfect days hiking in the woods or by the ocean under wondrously blue,  crystal clear skies. Preferably the temperature would stay in the mid 70's and only a light cool breeze would waft over us every few minutes.   

That was a light bulb day for me. If I always wait for my idea of the perfect conditions to be met, life will pass me by. Since then I've hiked in the wind and the rain. I've slogged through mud and been baked by merciless rays of sun and you know what? Those are the days that I remember. The times I've had to deal with the unexpected and learn to go with the flow are highlighted in my mind. 

Now when I see rain in the forecast, I always hear an echo from last summer. 

What if it rains? 

Then I'll hike in the rain.

Step by Step

In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.  John Muir

The climb is harder some days. I look up at that stretch of trail and shake. Will I make it to the top this time? Are my legs strong enough? What if I trip? What will I find at the top? Am I going the right way?The questions going round and round on repeat only make it more daunting. But just like yesterday and tomorrow, I take it one single footstep at a time. Each swinging of the right leg and then the left brings me closer to the top. When my muscles ache and my doubt rushes in to stop me, I pretend I'm one of those perpetual motion machines. I just keep going (and going and going).

Then, at last, one of those single steps is the one that brings me to the peak. With my head down and my determination resolute, I almost don't see the plateau until I'm standing on top of the world. I can see for miles in every direction. My mind is clear, focused and proud. 

I made it through another challenge.

(And sometimes I go for hikes too...)

Moving The Air Around

and half of learning to play is learning what not to play

                   and she's learning the spaces she leaves have their own things to say

and she's trying to sing just enough so that the air around her moves

and make music like mercy that gives what it is and has nothing to prove

she crawls out on a limb and begins to build her home

and it's enough just to look around and to know that she's not alone

-Ani DiFranco

Last night the wind rattled my window mercilessly.  I fought for sleep even as it whistled through the cracks and into my mind. When I was a child in this little town, the wind would uproot trees in the night. We'd wake to a terrorized landscape of tangled roots and strewn garbage. If I could take a picture of my thoughts, they would surely look the same today. 

But I'm not a little girl anymore. I know that the wind creates space for new growth. The gusts that are the fiercest, the ones that are the hardest to withstand, are the ones that take the old with them when they go leaving only new ground.

What will I plant when this windstorm dies down?

Permission To Fail

Prints by Dutson

One of my New Year's Intentions is to fail more. What? Fail? (gasp...the horrors).  

Yes, I need to fail. So many times I refuse to even try something new because of that fear of failure. What if I royally mess up in front of people I respect? What if I'm not good at it? What if? Well, so far this has meant a life of carefully choosing only those things I am fairly certain I can do well. 

My sister-in law is going back to school. She was nervous, of course. We sat drinking tea discussing the first day of class and for once I realized that I couldn't just give the usual pep talk "You'll be great! I'm sure you'll make lots of friends and get good grades and have a blast!". Isn't this what we do for each other? We don't give room to fail and so many of us don't even begin. I looked her in the eye and just said "There's a good chance you won't finish. We can't rule out the possibility that you could fail at this. But does that mean it's not worth trying?". The truth is that no matter what the outcome, we will all be proud of her and love her.  

The light bulb moment was when I realized I don't offer this permission to myself. 

This year I want to be brave like my sister-in-law. I want to do something that gives me butterflies in  my stomach. I have to know that the more things I try to do, the more failures I'll rack up. I want to be proud of the failures.  They show that I'm living a life unafraid of what others might think of me, and more importantly, what I might think of myself.

Let's all give ourselves permission to fail. We can look at the failures as proof of a life well lived. We can hold them up like trophies and say "Look! I did something I was scared to do!". 

Riding a Bike is Like Riding a Bike

Autumn Colors a la California

The first stormy day of Autumn was the perfect day to take the bikes out for the first time. The first time? But Rachael, havn't you and Rob lived in L.A. for over a year now? Why yes, yes we have.  It took this long to get over the daily battle of facing these mean streets in a automobile. The bikes were hung on the wall when we moved in last year and stayed there nicely serving as decor and wet laundry holders. Until today. Today I told Rob I was finally brave enough to peddle to Trader Joe's and back home. Was it the passing thunderstorm that shook me up and made me crave a ride? We carried the bikes down to the sidewalk and took off. This city has the worst sidewalks and roads of anywhere I've lived and it's uphill both ways. I'm not kidding. Somehow no matter where you want to go around Silver Lake and Los Feliz there are enough frequent hills that you will face them both ways. At first I was worried about riding after a whole year of no practice but it turns out that riding a bike is like riding a bike. We charged up hills and coasted down leaf strewn streets the two miles to the store and back home. Rain drops lightly sprinkled down on the dusty, sunburned city. I felt renewed and free. So yes, the first stormy day of Autumn was the perfect day for a bike ride.

Is there a hobby you really love that you havn't enjoyed in a long time? Worried you won't be able to take it up again? Thinking you may have lost that muscle... physical or mental? It might take a few false starts, but I promise you'll get into the flow again in no time. Life is too short to second guess your abilities. Tomorrow may never come, so get out there and do what makes you smile!

wahoo

fight or flight

Panic. That system flushing sensation of a million miles a minute. It's not something that comes on slowly. No no, it hits you so hard and so fast no clear thoughts can break through. Something inside our instinctual human selves is telling us that our environment is a dangerous one. Our safety is threatened.

Last week while happily heading up our usual path at Griffith Park, Rob and I saw something strange. A medium sized rodent with big eyes was crouched off to the side of the wide dirt trail.  Just as the words "hey look..." left my lips we both spotted the large Rattlesnake immediately behind this poor little thing. Adrenaline shot through my veins so quickly I could have sprinted back down the trail fast enough to medal in the Olympics (there's a yellow medal right?).  Rob inched closer and tried to get it to go away by throwing things at it. That snake only had eyes for it's meal. I ran past the duo instead of back down because no way in hell was I giving up my daily hike because of a hungry snake. I wanted to run all the way to the Observatory, but Rob wanted to stay and try to get it off the trail even as I begged him to stop.  Finally, the waiting was over and the snake slowly started to circle around so it could swallow the prey headfirst. I convinced him to give up at that point and Rob, ever the protector, came with me. It took a few minutes, but once the danger was out of sight my breathing began to return to normal and I no longer felt dizzy and shaky.

I spent some time today thinking about our human panic response. Often it's referred to as our "fight or flight" reaction. Our bodies are swiftly energized to either fight whatever may be threatening us or to run away from it until we're in a safe place.  But what happens when the threat isn't something we can see? What about when the thing that we are most afraid of is inside our own minds? We still have the immediate and sudden urge to fight it or to escape, but those aren't options when the danger is our own thoughts, our own feelings.  And so we panic and have no resolution. All of the physical symptoms are the same. The breathing that can turn to hyperventilating, the shaking that makes you wrap your arms tight around your body in an attempt to slow the personal earthquake, the racing thoughts that make very little sense, the realization that you are out of control...and nowhere to run. It's impossible to hide from the monsters in your head.

Nobody can throw sticks at your fear or help you run away. Our fears will always live in those crevices we like to ignore. What I started to wonder is what if we were able to call them by name.  What if we went on a snake hunt inside our own hearts and named each demon we found there. Oh it's you Fear of Abandonment. I see you're still ugly Fear of Death. And you.. Fear of Change..I thought you'd moved on by now. What if we could look each one in the eye and see them as part of ourselves and by doing that somehow take away their power to sneak up on us in the dark.  It's wishful thinking I'm sure, but I'm not above wishes.

On our way back down that same trail at the end of our hike, we rounded the bend to find other hikers watching what I imagine is the local Griffith Park snake wrangler shooing that Rattlesnake off the trail with a very long stick. It was a slow process. The snake had a full belly and a bad attitude, but eventually made its way down into the brush to hide and digest.  I found that I was much less afraid of snakes after this encounter. There is no longer the "what if" in my mind of what it would be like and what I would do. Now I know. Now I'm tentative but not immobilized...

As we continued down past the wrangler, I heard him say "I've seen bigger ones than this up here!"

I may borrow that line on my next snake hunt.