Afraid

I recently supported Cassie Premo Steele’s Facebook co-created poetry Kickstarter (http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/747692735/co-create-the-wordy-wednesday-poem-book?ref=live).  As a result I was entered into a drawing and subsequently won a copy of Sheryl Sandberg’s new book Lean In.  I’d pIanned to read it in one weekend flurry over Easter break but spent that time fighting fever and skipping coloring eggs instead.  The week off school that followed was filled with health recoup and kid time.  Today I am a measly 26 pages into the book.  Nonetheless I have arrived at something to contemplate:  a poster described as present in the Facebook office where Sandberg works that reads “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

 

Afraid is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  feeling fear; filled with apprehension:  afraid to go.
2.  feeling regret, unhappiness, or the like:  I’m afraid we can’t go on Monday.
3.  feeling reluctance, unwillingness, distaste, or the like:  He seemed afraid to show his children kindness.

 

Sheryl shares on p.26 of Lean In that “Writing this book is what I would do if I weren’t afraid.”  This strikes me as a great example of how reading over and over a written statement intentionally placed in your path affects your actions. 

 

I am afraid of the question!   Afraid of the answers.  Believing a small bit of fear might just keep us safe, as in not stepping too close to a cliff or driving a car recklessly.  But I equally hold true that fear can keep us so far from the cliff we miss the view or never learn to drive at all.

 

What are we afraid of?  Being judged by others as odd or a failure or underachieving or bossy or foolish?  Of being without enough money to live comfortable?  Of alienating someone?  Of revealing our truth?  Of hurting someone’s feelings?  Of regret?  Of screwing up?  Of rocking a basically steady boat that is, well, okay if not fabulous?  We’re afraid of the unknown, but isn’t it ALL unknown?

 

What would I do if I weren’t afraid?  I don’t seem to have a clear answer today.  For starters, I’m going to read the question every day, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”  That does scare me a bit because, perhaps as in Sandberg’s daily exposure to written query, I might come across a specific task, a spark, an idea.  As I ponder I must also wonder though what practices can we conquer our fears?  Faith.  Meditation.  Daily experience.  Absorbing inspiring works of scripture, poetry, non-fiction, and biography.  Seeking wise leaders and listening.  Listening.

 

                                                I learned that courage was not the absence
                                                of fear, but the triumph over it.  The brave
                                                man is not he who does not feel afraid, but
                                                he who conquers that fear.
                                                                                                - Nelson Mandela

 

                                                We can easily forgive a child who is afraid
                                                of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when
                                                mean are afraid of the light.
                                                                                                - Plato

 

 

Birthday

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I get to say to myself, “You were born!  Hooray!  Have some apple pie (I’m planning such in lieu of cake this year).”  I’m pleased at having arrived at this age in my life.  I observe it no small feat for us humans to count each birthday in turn as we chug and chug like Little Engines that Could through life.  Think of all the collective cakes we’ve eaten and wishes we’ve made! 

 

Birthday is defined at dictionary.com as the anniversary of a birth, the day of a person’s birth, a day marking or commemorating the origin or beginning of something, and the festivities or celebration marking such a day or anniversary. 

 

Here’s my ultimate surprise birthday gift:  my current number of forty-four life years feels comfortable like a pair of jeans that really fits, soft after repeated washing and wearing.  Is it the actual age at which I have arrived that creates this feeling?  Likely not as each of us travels a different path and pace, but I do think there is something altering about crossing the four decade threshold – aside from ads for my demographic proffering wrinkle repair, gray hair coverage, digestive regulation, tummy control clothing, frugal family vacation spots and kid-friendly cooking shortcuts that is. 

 

On the eve of my birthday I reside in the fruition of many things.  High School.  College.  Work.  More college.  Different work.  Marriage.  Different work.  Home ownership.  Pregnancy.  Pregnancy.  Pregnancy.  Motherhood.  Still more different work.  

 

While this seemingly static current time sometimes makes me self-assert that I need some goals, I placate my ego by telling it that there is so much value in BEING as opposed to more DOING.  Although I am doing plenty, this time in my life feels not so much like pursuing but percolating.   There is ample in motion as I tug the wagon of my experiences across the field of each day enjoying the hum of my life engine, trusting there will be sustenance and rest, watching the seeds of my thoughts, words, and actions sprout.  I’m content to be in my spot of the world, however plain it might be and however slow I appear in it.  Some habits have settled into a comfortable rhythm.  I’m learning and unlearning.  I’m embracing chaos and creating quiet.  I’m striving to work gracefully. 

 

I often ponder around my birthday this crazy, pain in the neck, heart-stretching, heart-mending, wacky, body limited, unpredictable, love-filled, emotional, intentional, expanding opportunity to learn: life.  Do we really have any idea how awesome it is to be born?  Whatever the ups and downs, perhaps we might all agree birth is miraculous.  When I blow out my birthday candles tomorrow I'll wish for us all to feel the miracle.  

 

                                Pleas’d look forward, pleas’d to look behind,
                                and count each birthday with a grateful mind.
                                                                                - Alexander Pope 

 

 

    

Feet

A few years back I began a ritual.  After reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Miracle of Mindfulness, I wanted to create practices that reflected mindful action. I decided on my feet.  Each morning I bring both feet together as I sit up from sleep, then plant them side by side - both soles at the same time - on the floor beside my bed.   For one inhale and exhale, I look at my ten toes together and then rise to standing being aware of the muscles and sensations as my ambulatory appendages set me out on my first step of the day.

 

The noun feet is defined as a plural of foot, which offers nothing of information.  Thereby I list the definition of foot found also at dictionary.com.
1.  (in vertebrates) the terminal part of the leg, below the ankle joint, on which the body stands and moves.
2.  (in invertebrates) any part similar in position or function.
3.  such a part considered as the organ of locomotion.

 

On Easter, my dawn habit slowed me even more.  At this time in my neck of the woods, the air is full of multiple expressions of seasonal and doctrinal reality proclaiming light arising from the darkness, life springing forth from the death of cold ground, singing and celebrating imbued with the fragrance of lilies and the promise of budding trees. 

 

Imagine your day’s first standing scenario as if rising from the dead not just from a night’s sleep.  Two feet that were still and listless, perhaps chilled, planting on the ground and finding steadiness walking into the day motivated by breath:  Get up.  Wake up.  New life.  Get going.  Feel you’re awakening mindfully and with awe. 

 

Bearing the weight of legs and body, guts and brains, our pair of peds perform much important work just by holding us up.  How awesome is it that we can stand up from sleep?  Feet may still be tired, feasibly achy from the previous day’s path, perhaps injured by a crucifixion?  In need of some TLC?  Unsure and perhaps slightly unsteady?  Aged and changed with time?  Marked with memories of races run, pregnancies puffed through, glass stepped on, shoes submitted to or never afforded?  Nonetheless purposefully poised to stride into the day as it is.    

 

I sincerely hope these men would be flattered and amused by their presence together, two thoughts joining mine about feet.

 

You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes. 
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.  You’re
on your own, and you know what you know.  And you are
the guy who’ll decided where you go. 
                                                                             –Dr. Seuss

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature
seems renewed around me and with me.  The sky seems
to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees and deeper green. 
The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel
fire and music under my feet. 
                                                                            –Thomas Merton