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The power of change: autumn Equinox

9/30/2014

Fall is officially here. For some that means a sad realization that the lazy days of summer have passed, for others it means "sweater weather" and things they love (like football, pumpkin pie and fall leaves). I love fall because it reminds me that there is beauty in change, and that maturing is something to relish rather than fear. With the shedding of the old comes the possibility of fresh growth later on. How we handle autumn truly sets us up for how we will endure the winter and blossom in the spring.

Though the weather of fall is usually lovely those cool mornings and nights, and warm days, lead to some dehydration in the body and adjustments in your diet and routine should follow. I like to view autumn as the best combination of exuberance and restfulness. What I mean by this is that the bright, colorful hot days enable an energized attitude. Hiking, fast walking, picking apples, carving pumpkins, making chutneys and soups. There's abundance and fullness to enjoy. At the same time, in the evenings I like to take an attitude of quiet withdrawal. Going to bed early, making a cup of warm milk, curling up with a good book--getting myself ready for the season of hibernation and energy-building from within.

My family has some fall traditions that I absolutely cherish. We do go apple-picking, and enjoy a local corn maze. There is a scavenger hunt at a pumpkin farm that is always a season highlight. My daughter still dresses up for Halloween in couture-level costumes made by my mother who should have been a designer. (This year she's going as "Zombie Elsa" combining to cultural trends). I'll bake those absolutely awful-for-you decorative Halloween cookies (the ones you simply take out of the package and stick on a tray). We like to enjoy some local music events as well and yes, my husband and daughter will carve pumpkins (I stay clear of this event and leave the artistry to them).

To my mind, negotiating October well is a necessity given that most of us have a lot going on in November and December. Regardless of your religion affiliation (or non-affiliation), the "holiday" season cannot be entirely escaped. The volume is turned up socially and you'd have to never enter a store in order to avoid the ramped-up consumerism. Office parties and such abound and it hardly seems right to end your year with the exhaustion of your body, the cluttering of your mind and the depletion of your bank account! A good October can set the stage for a holiday season filled with sensible eating, meaningful socializing and deep reflection.

Things to do now:

Walk/hike: Enjoy the perfection of the changing seasons. Alone or with loved ones, it's all good.
Sleep: Make it a promise to get to bed 30 minutes earlier than usual.
Sit: In meditation, five to ten minutes a day to start. Get yourself ready for the contemplative time of year.
Eat: Softer foods. Porridge, baked squashes, soups, cooked greens (I use them as a base for my salads in place of raw greens).
Drink lots of hot water, with or without lemon/ginger, green tea, black tea, herbal tea.
Read: Poetry, memoir, fiction--whatever you can!

These are manageable goals and allow us to shift from a summer mindset to one of the changing seasons. And, of course, if you really want to enjoy October, sign up for Your Art of Living's Mini-Course. We'll look at various subjects (crows, pumpkins, clambakes and Halloween) and work those themes/studies into our lives in unusual and inspiring ways.
http://www.yourartofliving.com/our-products.html

Artfully Yours, Lisabeth

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The Power of remembrance 2: Robin Williams

9/20/2014

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It's been a little over a month since Robin Williams departed us but I've seen more of him than ever. Yes, there is lots of news media still detailing his troubled life and especially his health challenges of recent years. However, the reason I've spent so much "time" with Robin is because of my daughter. Since his death, she has made it a mission to watch, and re-watch, his films. "Jumanji" has been in the dvd player several times, as has "Mrs. Doubtfire." She's become nearly addicted to "Good Will Hunting"--we bought the dvd for five bucks finally at Target because she's had the library copy out for a couple of weeks. (For those wondering, we allow her to watch films with profanity, so long as they are intelligent, and because she refuses to watch violence, sex or anything with substance abuse). Watching "Good Will Hunting" has had her pondering the nature of genius and the blessing and bane that it can be. Because of Robin Williams and this particular film, she's been thinking about Albert Einstein, and great writers, and poets and artists and actors and the trials and tribulations they faced with their brilliance. More importantly she has said on several occasions about Robin, "I really miss him--it's like I grew up with him."

Last week with 9/11, I was writing about the nature of monumental/commemorative remembrance, but my daughter's comments about Robin Williams have me thinking about personal remembrance as well. Clearly Robin was a man who was fighting constantly a wall of darkness and pain. We should never underestimate the power of mental illness and anguish. I don't know that he was in a state to think about how much he would be missed. He was an almost maniacally energetic man who performed, acted and did an enormous amount of service work. Just see him above signing a soldier's program on his USO tour. He was clearly a "giver"--perhaps too much, but that may have simply been the way he had to be. From all that I've read about Robin, he felt the need to always be "on"--to continually be a comedian performing.

This has me thinking about how we define ourselves and how we ourselves want to be remembered when we are gone. If you ask most people "who are you" they will define themselves by roles. "Mother, husband, business owner, fireman, chef, teacher, nurse, bicyclist, runner--you can come up with hundreds of such classifications." However I think we need to examine this type of self-definition. By defining yourself in "roles" you attach to your self-perception a whole set of standards that may not be reasonable and that don't capture the essence and wholeness of you. We are all creative souls with a wide multitude of qualities and gifts that shouldn't be limited to the parts we play on a daily basis, the hats we wear. So, to bring this back to Robin Williams, his need to be "the comedian" was perhaps a defense mechanism for dealing with the Robin who suffered mental pain or who needed to attend to himself. How many of us do the same thing in different degrees? Do we use our jobs, our roles in families and communities, as ways of escaping recognizing and developing fully who we are?

As a teacher, I think I encounter people with similar personalities to Robin quite often. It's hard to be a teacher and not be a least partially a ham. Some of my colleagues clearly get an ego boost from being the "sage on the stage." Others want to be the kids' "buddies" and yet others are petrified nearly every year when they need to get back into the classroom (serious cases of stage fright) but do it anyhow because they are addicted to the role. Many teachers devote inordinate amounts of time to their classroom lessons, their students, tutoring and clubs--sometimes at the expense of their own interests, health and family relationships. The same can be said of women who devote themselves to some saintly vision of motherhood, runners (who will never be on the Olympic team) training and competing weekend after weekend, and business people devoting themselves to corporations who will likely reward their years of service with a going-away cake on a Friday afternoon. I used to be one of these people, beavering away to be the "best" of my assumed role (student, office worker, teacher). But in recent years I've had a shift and remembrance is partly why.

In twenty years, thirty years, fifty years, few people will remember my teaching. No one will be recalling my work as a student, an archaeologist, a yoga instructor, or an amateur musician. My parents won't be around to remember me as a great daughter. Friends and co-workers will dwindle in numbers by the year. So what is left? Who will remember me and how? Hopefully, there will be those who recall fondly that I was a multi-faceted, happy person who pursued life with gusto. Who was loving, kind and giving. Who approached life seriously but herself lightly. Someone who was passionate and compassionate. Smart but not smarmy. Wise but not arrogant. Balanced, fair and even-handed. This is how I want to be remembered. Not for my roles, or accomplishments, but rather for how I conducted myself on a daily basis with those who mean the most to me, and with the world in general. I want to leave behind the positive energy and example that I set--hopefully an energy that allowed others who came into contact with me to live a little more happily and freely. How do we get to that place?

Exercises:

Think of some people near and dear who have passed on. What are the first things you remember about them--both good and bad.
Take an example of someone who you don't remember fondly, and think why. Were they sharp-tongued, cheap, mean-spirited, malicious, meddling. It's alright to admit it to yourself because this is a great tool for learning how you don't want to be remembered. The drunk guy at office Christmas parties, the woman who was a nasty gossip, the aunt who never seemed satisfied with anything, the uncle who made too many lewd comments. Be brutally honest.
For those you remember well, think about why. Was it the role they served (wow, Sally was a great accountant) or the good-naturedness of their personality (Sally always made time to listen when I had a problem). What qualities stand out, what habits and deeds?
Make a list--literally, of how you think people will remember you. What are the negative possibilities? Will it be as the person who worked so much that you never got around to a family vacation? The person always screwing around with their cellphone and ignoring others at the dinner table? The person who drinks too much and gets to loose-lipped and loud at parties?
Think about your finest qualities, those things you most want people to recall when they think of you. List them and think about what you can do to exhibit them more often. Maybe it means working less, playing more. Talking less, listening more. Working out less in the gym, walking more with friends and family. Putting away the cellphone when you are with others. Turning off the television and having a conversation, or tossing a ball with your child, or calling a relative.

I'll end with the final lyrics of a 1941 song with words by the famous Johnny Mercer, "I Remember You--written for Judy Garland who Mercer loved.

I remember too
A distant bell and stars that fell
Like rain out of the blue

When my life is through
And the angels ask me to recall the thrill of them all
Then I will tell them, I remember you

Be your best, most authentic self--not a set of roles you think you ought to play. Be the thrill that someone recalls. Be the person missed for all the positive energy and love you brought to this world each and every day. Be remembered well.

Artfully yours -- Lisabeth

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the power of remembrance

9/11/2014

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The Tribute of Light

Yes, I remember September 11th. I was in the third trimester of my pregnancy with my daughter, and up in our department offices, when a colleague's wife called to tell us that a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers. More horrifying news followed as the second tower went down, the Pentagon was attacked and another plane crashed in Pennsylvania. Working at a school, the adults needed to be especially mindful as to how scary this must have been to young people even as we battled our own fear, anxiety and profound sadness. In the days that followed, we listened to journalists, politicians, friends and family speculate on whether or not there would be more attacks and how this event would impact our daily lives. Our school had an alumnus who'd been on one of the floors, at his workplace, when the plane struck. He was one of the fallen, a life cut too short by someone else's agenda. I was sad for him and his family and distraught too by all the people who felt free to say to me, "what a terrible time to bring a child into the world." Not very sensitive, nor very sensible, since human history has always included conflict, tragedy and hardship both natural and manufactured.

In class today, my students are researching the poetry of World War One and comparing and contrasting it with the blogs of soldiers from the recent military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. Historians and literary analysts agree that the poetry of the first world war demonstrates a melancholia, a sense of loss, and a profound disillusionment with the purpose and aims of war that indicates a shift in national attitudes. Whereas the wars of earlier times had been glorified as opportunities to show might, courage and devotion--this war, with its beastly technology and the appalling conditions of trench warfare, instilled a deep disappointment in the limited ends and extraordinary costs of war. In the 100th commemorative year of the "Great War" it is important for us to remember it wasn't great for most, and that it wasn't the war to end all wars by a longshot.

This brings me to the point of remembrance. How do we remember? Memorialize? Commemorate? Celebrate? Pay homage? Pay our respects? What is appropriate for one situation may not be applicable to another. Some people want to be reminded of victory, history, tragedy--others are traumatized by it. What is in good taste? Is good taste necessary, or does it keep us from looking reality in the face? Is remembrance best accomplished in ceremonies, services, parades, monuments or exhibits? When you start to deconstruct all of these facets, you realize just how complex remembrance is as both a cultural and personal practice.

As far as public remembering goes, in the twentieth century there has been more ambiguity, ambivalence, and controversy surrounding the subject of memorialization. War became less glorious, and in some cases, governments less comfortable, with erecting huge monuments in commemoration. There have been exceptions, of course. I can't help but think of my trip to Rome this summer where the almost vulgar monument to Victor Emmanuel II towers atop the city. Completed in 1925, with the goal of celebrating Italy's hard-won nationhood, ancient and medieval areas had to be destroyed in order to make room for the large white sculptural monstrosity. It feels old-fashioned and overdone in a city that contains such a rich history of antiquity, accomplishment and beauty. Despite the fact that Mussolini's fascist government lauded the project, controversy surrounding its erection and the monument's inappropriateness serves as a source of wry discussion to this day.

Other monumental projects have also fostered dissent and conflict. Vietnam War veterans had to wait until 1982 to have the initiative for a memorial pushed forward. Maya Lin's winning design for the wall memorial immediately generated conflict as some people saw the plain, black wall as nihilistic and embarrassing. While it flies in the face of the "monumental standard" in that it does not pretty things up or glorify, it seems to me that it reflects our national discomfort with the Vietnam War and is an appropriate response to that ambivalence. The wall has been embraced by tourists, families of soldiers and veterans who continue to visit the wall in droves leaving mementos for those killed. At Kent State University, where four were shot dead by National Guard Reserve members, it took decades for a true memorial to be erected and controversy over that design ensued as well.

Most recently, many have questioned whether or not the building of One World Trade Center is an appropriate response to the tragedy of 13 years ago. A wall and reflective pool have been installed, much thoughtfulness and research put into including the names of those killed, and a nearby museum that examines the events of that day built. Is it all commemorative, or morbid? Should that prime real estate space have been left more or less empty? Is this a way of moving on or just crass commercialism? These are important questions that relate not only to how we regard our national history, but also our personal history. See Adam Gopnik's article below if you're interested in pursuing this further.

Some thoughts on what we can take away:

Do you use memory constructively or destructively? In other words, do you try to learn from past mistakes, or use them to beat yourself or others up with recriminations?
Do you dwell too often, and too firmly, in the past? Are you still trying to look like you did back in high school or have you matured your look? Are you engaging in the same behaviors or have you matured your outlook?
How do you celebrate life events? Birthdays, anniversaries, etc.? Are these moments of joy or sadness or indifference? Extravagance or restraint?
Do you take time to think about the sacrifice of others on Veterans Day and Memorial Day? Why or why not?
When you visit other places, and perhaps the monuments there, what is your reaction?

When I became a history teacher twenty years ago, I claimed that ultimately the reason I liked to study and teach this subject was because to me it signified that peoples' lives have mattered. Whether or not a memorial is ever installed, we can carry with us love, anger, pride, sadness, and gratitude. These are the emotions of human life and ultimately monuments and commemorations can help remind us not only to remember, but also to feel. That is part of our condition--a hard part, a joyful part, sometimes the worst part, but often the best.

Artfully yours, Lisabeth

Vietnam War Memorial

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The Power of Anger

9/4/2014

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http://www.flickr.com/people/28650594@N03 DVIDSHUB

Last weekend I was thinking quite a lot about anger. Our new school year has gotten underway and it doesn't take too long for overwhelm to set in. I'm a bit more tired, a lot more busy, and quite a bit less patient--especially with listening to others moaning and groaning and wanting to share (i.e. spread) their anger with the world and with their own circumstances.

After having one too many people "pile on", I had reached a frustration point that lead to about a minute's worth of tears. I tried talking the anger out of me with my husband (who is patient). It helped but really didn't dispel the anger. We decided to do what we often do when wanting to feel better: go for a good walk at our favorite park. The weather was looking precarious, but I knew that the walking, the rhythm and cadence, would help so we braved it. We did one lap together, but then my husband, who's been dealing with a tender knee, said he needed to rest it, but encouraged me to do a second loop. I readily set off because I knew I could walk faster and that the motion would help me burn off more negativity. I got about half way around when it started to rain. I walked faster, it rained harder. I kicked things up into a light jog, it poured. I waited a few moments at the opening of the woods onto the lake part of the trail thinking it might slow, it rained harder. So, already wet, I decided to just embrace it. After all, I had come to the park seeking to "cleanse" myself so why get upset about a literal opportunity to do so?

As I emerged from the woods I saw a wonderful sight. A large blue-gray heron standing in the gray water against a misty gray sky. My anger dispelled as I stood in awe and wonder. The serenity and beauty of the scene (HE wasn't fazed by a little rain). I kept jogging noticing the ducks and then a second heron--all nonplussed by the weather, by life itself.

What's the point of anger? Well, there are pragmatic reasons for it. If a child runs into the road, yelling out in anger after that child may save her/his life. Anger can prompt action (that can be good or bad depending on the course/nature of that action). Anger can keep you from being a victim--or it can MAKE you a victim. As with most things, it depends on perspective.

I started thinking about the nature of anger and it strikes me that there are different kinds. One is an anger that is constant, a deep buried slow burn. This one is dangerous and toxic to yourself and others. It destroys from the inside out and can make you a vile, difficult person. The other kind of anger is a temporary emotion. It's more like a case of heartburn. It causes you pain, but you need to work through it like you work through digesting a meal that's not agreed with you. In this way, the anger is just an emotional wave--it comes and goes. It has no permanence.

It also helps to get perspective from amazing people. Shortly after I started writing this blog, I saw a headline about a man in North Carolina who spent 34 years on death row and had just been released because dna evidence showed he hadn't committed the heinous crime of which he had been accused. In his interview with the press he claimed he held no anger in his heart and was simply grateful to be proven innocent and released. Wow. I was flabbergasted and humbled. What do I really have to be angry about next to this man? (see link) http://www.cnn.com/2014/09/03/us/north-carolina-dna-frees-convicts/

The fact is that we really can choose how we deal with anger and whether or not we want to harbor it. So what are some healthy strategies?

Write a journal page where you work out your anger. Are you angry about the state of the world? Injustices? With particular people? Circumstances?
Now write what you can do about it. If the news media angers you--don't watch or follow it so closely. Check in once a week and vow not to watch news while eating, not to start your day with it, and never to watch before going to bed.
If certain people tick you off--distance yourself. Let the answering machine get a few calls. Yes, screen. You can choose when to interact in many cases.
If you have an angry encounter, literally cleanse yourself with a hot shower or warm bath with sea salts/or epsom salts, and lavender. You'll cleanse the negative energy and calm yourself.
DO NOT EAT OUT OF ANGER. Aggression eating, going for the crunchy/salty, will make you feel worse (and angry with yourself).
Go for hot tea or hot milk instead. Some nutmeg in the milk or honey in the tea will help soothe.
If your anger requires a long-term solution like finding a new job, or marriage counseling, or working out earlier trauma through therapy, then plan out how that's going to happen. Take slow, deliberate action. There are lots of support groups and options if you are willing to work through issues.
See your momentary anger as an opportunity to be thoughtful and to cleanse your body and soul.
Practice deep, cleansing and relaxing breathing. Seek out calm and quiet.

I leave you also with a link to an article by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk who has written books on the subject of anger. He does not recommend "acting out your anger" with therapies like punching pillows as he sees this as training for deeper and more destructive aggression. Instead, he recommends that you embrace the anger and recognize that while it exists in the present moment, that moment will not last forever. That recognition takes away its power.

In Breakfast with Buddha, the two main characters, a food writer and a Buddhist monk, are on a road trip and the monk constantly asks his companion, "Why so angry?" It's a question we should ask ourselves regularly. If the answer is something trivial, then we need to let it go. If it's something deeply buried, then we need to unearth it. If it's all around us, then we need to look within our own hearts and minds. Use anger as a momentary, contemplative tool--not as a destructive weapon against yourself or others. You'll feel better, you'll be better, you'll be less angry, you'll make others less angry.

http://www.shambhalasun.com/index.php?option=content&task=view&id=1756

Yours in peace and love -- Lisabeth

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The power of change: autumn Equinox

The Power of remembrance 2: Robin Williams

the power of remembrance

The Power of Anger

Lisabeth Robinson

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