So…here’s the deal: I suck.

No, really—I do. I suck, and at lots of stuff: Getting regular exercise. Returning phone calls. Housekeeping (and I have the 4″ dreadlock of hair extricated from between the center prong of my rolling desk chair and the filthy carpet to prove it.)

But forget about the stuff that will put me in an early grave with a friendless funeral. I also suck at many of Your More Important Things in Life. Stuff like patience. Focus. Generosity. General abundance thinking. (Because spending a year and a half of your life hungry, cold and only allowed to use three sheets of toilet paper—for #2—can really firm up a scarcity mindset.)

And yeah, yeah: I know that I’m not the only one. No offense, but that is SO not the point.

Nor am I better or (nor?) worse than anyone. Again, completely irrelevant. Except, of course, that it’s one of the things I’d like to stop sucking so much at. I want to be cool with being me, rather than comparing myself to all of you lovely people (or the losers sitting next to you, for that matter.)

I also have some presence of mind left with which to note that I’m not a hopeless case. I don’t need to check myself into a program or call my emo sponsor or take off on a vision quest. Which is good, because until they allow for overnight motel accommodations, including nightly hot shower, vision quests are off the table.

No, in my time of need, I turn to…you!

Yes, you, dear Internet friends. You and the patented, communicatrix 21-Day Salute™, a one-two punch guaranteed to shake me out of my funk, knock out the cobwebs and get my head screwed back on straight. One part accountability, one part discipline, one part observation, my salutes keep me honest while (hopefully) keeping you entertained. In other words, just because I’m working on my shit doesn’t mean the swearing has to stop.

Here’s what does have to stop: me.

For 21 days, I’m going to apply my attention to stopping in bad, uncomfortable, sad, angry, pushy, greedy, icky moments to—ever so briefly, for the most part—ask why. But that’s not all. I’m also going to just STOP! randomly and check in to see what’s the happ.

Like just now, f’rinstance, I stopped and asked myself what was going on.

Tightness. Legs crossed tight, jaw tensed up, butt perched at end of incredibly expensive, ergonomically-designed, rolling desk chair like it was a $5 stool.

And why?

Too much coffee. Anxiety over whether I can stick to a 21-day salute™ when I’m leaving town in 16. Creeping Loser-itis over not getting enough work done.

I could go on, but that’s not the point of today’s entry. Today’s entry is about STARTING to STOP. Committing to stopping, to observing (hopefully without too much judging), to doing things slightly differently.

Kind of a Method-meditation mashup for everyday life.

And maybe at the end of it, I’ll have a bigger project to work on. Maybe I’ll have some clarity on a few things. Maybe I’ll just learn that I’m really, really bad at stopping… noting… readjusting. Since I just found myself in the exact same clenched, tensed, ready to launch myself into the blue yonder, I’m gonna say… “yes” on bad.

No matter! The stopping starts now!

Aaaaaand now!

And again, now!

(I thank you in advance for bearing with me on this.)

xxx
c

For those of you who are new to communicatrix and the 21-Day Salute™, there’s a writeup here, along with descriptions of each of the salutes I’ve done since the blog launched. Excelsior!

Image by JeffKao via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

TOPICS: 21 day salutes, change, life, meditation, Stop! Sucking!.

Like driving in Los Angeles (or electricity most anywhere else), change continues to be both a sticky wicket and the only game in town. In other words, I’m not the only one wrasslin’ this bear.

Exhibit A (from Andrew, in an email exchange generated by the last post on Change, that Bitch-Dog from Hell):

Lately, I find myself thinking a lot about all the aspects of personal integrity and how important it is to a person’s sense of identity. Some of it is the aftermath of events from last year and some of it has to do with my dissatisfaction with the way things are in my life and my commitment to changing them.

By amazing coincidence (or not), the very same day I happened upon this TED talk on happiness by ex-pat French Buddhist monk (say that 3x fast) Mathieu Ricard. It’s a fascinating talk—I mean, how can a discussion of the impact of mind training on happiness as measured by MRI patterns of high-level meditators not be?—and I’d highly advise a look-see, for the delicious fusion of book smarts (Ricard completed his PhD thesis in molecular genetics), humor (he’s funny!) and orange robes (he’s a monk!) (and he’s funny!)

But if you’re not into it just now, the salient point of his talk as far as this humble, little blog postie goes is that you are your own best shelter against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. In Ricard’s parlance, the trick is a high enough level of detachment to see that you are a part of The Whole, and that emotions are not the truth of you, but more like colors—light playing on the waters of you.

The bad news is that some people come to it more naturally than others: he uses the contrasting examples of the very poor man who seems content despite having “nothing”, and the very rich man who, ensconced in the most fabulous luxury, penthouse apartment, outfitted with the sweetest amenities, in the tallest building in town, sees his window only as a thing to jump out of.

The good news is that, according to tests like this on meditation and “happiness” (possibly better described as “peace of mind” or maybe “inner peace”), given a strong enough desire and a commitment of time and effort, one can alter one’s default setting.

Where integrity fits in, as I see it, is in helping to actualize that good-news change. Buddhist teachings are chock-full of references to “right” this and “right” that—living, thinking, work, etc. If you’ve got no integrity, or it’s on the weakish side, you’re going to be far more likely to spend time on the bad path, partly because it’s the easiest path and partly because you may, at a certain point, not be able to discern any difference, much less benefit, between various paths.

If, on the other hand, your integrity is shored up nicely, you not only have a keener eye for the salubrious choice, but you also have the spine (or the stones) to make it.

All of this stuff is pretty simple, when you get right down to it, which is why it’s so blasted confounding. I know that I’ll be better off if I keep it to two glasses of Pinot, a few hours of farting-around time and early to bed. But in the moment, the choice can be difficult, because—and I’m a little sheepish about this—my integrity is a little weak in places.

“But Colleen,” you say, “don’t you mean your discipline is weak? Surely one can have integrity and lack discipline.”

I used to think that; now I’m not so sure.

I don’t believe I’m a bad person for eating French fries when it’s been pointed out to me by my very own intestines that I shouldn’t; I believe I’m a weak person. But framed that way, I’d say “weak” equals “lack of integrity.”

Or let’s take another example from my pathetic life. I got in a big fight with The BF today, which both Jon from my new-favorite coffee hang and Neil, from That Blog About the Talking Penis will attest to. Ostensibly, it was about money, but as with most things, it turned out to be about other stuff: my inability to communicate, my fears about communicating, my fucked-up views about abundance and scarcity and my lack of integrity when it came to gossiping. Don’t worry, The BF wasn’t dumping on me. He was providing the valuable and needed service of Calling Me on My Shit, something that probably doesn’t happen enough these days.

And that last thing—the gossip thing—was what finally got to me. Because I understand the power of early patterning about money, and am working on repatterning mine. I can talk about what a petty bastard I am; I brought up the very topic of my petty bastard-ness. What I was deeply ashamed about—that is, what pierced my heart with the flaming arrow of truth—was that I was foaming at the mouth about someone else whose actions over the past year—AN ENTIRE TWELVE MONTHS—had progressively enraged me to the point where I blew a gasket (behind her back, to someone else) over an absurdly insignificant display of cluelessness which should have invoked, if it invoked anything, pity or compassion.

So much for enlightenment.

Here’s where the change part, and the integrity part, comes in: five years ago, I would have fought it, and him, and the whole #%$@! world. I would have carved out a bunker next to Mt. Self-Righteous and hunkered down for the duration. But I’ve been working on observing (first step of change) and acknowledging (second step of change) my self as expressed through my actions fairly actively for the past ten years, and assiduously for the past five. Simple actions, but with a significant effect on integrity. And, I’m starting to see, “happiness”—in quotes because, sadly, I think it’s become too often confused with “pleasure” or, more specifically, “fleeting feelings of pleasure.”

Oo-la-la. Such fancy talk. Really, it all boils down to another good news/bad news thing. If you get on board the integrity bus, both the good and the bad news is you’re responsible for your “happiness-in-quotes.” I think it’s good. I like the idea that if I make some possibly tough choices up front, I can change the way I see and move through the world. I like that anyone can do it, and that it doesn’t cost money. I like that personal change, or an investment in integrity, can possibly effect other kinds of change.

I like that I’m my own homeboy. Except when I hate that I’m my own homeboy.

But liking isn’t really the point. The point is, it is what it is.

Namaste. And out.

xxx
c

Image by silverlinedwinnebago via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.

TOPICS: change, happiness, Mathieu Ricard, meditation, TED.

Since my brush with death (well, okay—my brush with losing my colon) and subsequent epiphany two years ago, I’m a pretty happy gal 99.99% of the time. No lie.

I have not, however, reached that zen-like state of peace wherein the joy with which I greet each morning stays unflaggingly through a Day of Horror.

There are many things that bring me joy, but many of them require time (Caddyshack, trip to New York), money (shopping, trip to New York), or serendipity (random compliments, first date that blows your doors off, seeing that asshat Expedition get pulled over 1/2 mile down the I-10 for blowing through the on-ramp light in the carpool lane).

Plus, sometimes I’m not really even looking for joy. Sometimes, not-funk will do me just fine.

Also, making lists is one of those things that makes me happy. Heck, even reading other people’s lists makes me happy.

So here are five things I’ve discovered that not only will shake your funk, but will often leave your home looking better, cleaner and more organized than before. The hawk-eyed will note a repetitive quality to most of the items. That’s because these are really meditations in disguise. There’s a monkey-work thing to occupy the chattery part of your brain so the real you can re-calibrate and get some goddam (mental) peace and quiet. As my first shrink/astrologer liked to say, meditation doesn’t have to mean parking your ass on a cushion.

Five Ways to Shake Your Funk, Domestic-Goddess Style

1. Wash all* your dishes. By hand.
2. Scrub your tile grout with bleach** and a toothbrush.
3. Iron your sheets***.
4. Shampoo your wall-to-wall carpet…with a hand-held spot cleaner.
5. Sew something. Curtains seems to work the best, since they have long seams. (NOTE: Do not sew curtains made from burlap with a chiffon
   backing, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.)

xxx
c

*This works really well because generally, the dishes have piled up in direct proportion to the size of the funk.

**Actually, I use all-purpose cleaner with bleach, but go ahead and be as environmentally conscious—or not—as you want. Mother Earth will do better with your head screwed on right.

***Only works with all-cotton sheets. If you dig percale, substitute window-washing or vertical-blind cleaning. And never iron dirty sheets! Ew! Stinky!

TOPICS: change, happiness, List-o-rama!, lists, meditation, self-improvement.