Big Rocks

Lately, I've been meditating on my calendar / work life / play life. I don't have any answers or decisions, but I'm asking questions I hadn't anticipated needing to answer when I left Dave and set up my new 5-year plan. Only two years into it, and I'm rethinking.

I thought I wanted to work A LOT, on a variety of professional projects (research, professional writing, personal writing, UO, Alaska, consulting, workshops) and develop the dog kennel (hiking, showing, breeding, puppy sales), travel once a year with Jake and Sara and a multi-day hike once a year on my own (with 'Hounds). Time with Jake and Sara, extended family, friends. Though most of that is still on my list, I've got this new thing to work in and adjustments to make around spending time with someone else. I'm not sure how to do all of that yet. Except that I need to consider carefully the impact of potential increased work commitments starting this Fall.

And part of me hesitates to make big changes that may close an avenue, because I am aware that each of these activities could disappear from the list for any number of reasons. Gam zeh ya'avor (this too shall pass)...

But hedging my bets feels like only half-assed focus / commitment, which of course may have its own consequences.

For now, I'll just muddle through what's currently on the calendar, and accept my changing focus ~ and develop better skill in managing my calendar, rather than letting my calendar manage me. A friend talks about putting the big rocks into the vase first. If you think of your day as a vase, and your "to do" items as a variety of materials (big rocks, pebbles, sand, water), then the formula is like this: Big rocks are those things that refresh our souls, but that we tend to not put on our calendar (in our vase), because we are busy with the tasks that have due dates... represented by pebbles, sand and water. You can put in the pebbles to your day, add sand, fill in with water, and not have room for the big rocks. But, if you put in the big rocks first (exercise, time with friends, meditation, walks with dogs, etc), then the pebbles and sand and water can fill around those.

It's a matter of priorities. Those items not in the day's vase may be very important to my well-being, but leaving them out means I have chosen another priority.

I dunno. This is all kinda new: challenging and exciting and chaotic and scary and comforting all at once. I am blessed and cursed with unlimited possibilities.

Okay. One day at a time. Big rocks first...

Protections

I am the first to admit that I am not brave; I wait until I must take some action or make some change, and then I make the change. But I have tended to ignore those situations until I finally get to the point that change is inevitable and necessary.

And then I choose a new direction. I think bravery would be to recognize when a relationship is going south before I get to the point of no return. I'm working on it...

Three or four years ago, I got to one of those forced forks in the road, where something had to change. After two years of negotiations, I finally understood that the only change I could control was within me. Change my circumstances, change my plans, change my goals. Change my job and my marital status. Scary changes, but at that point, absolutely necessary.

After resettling in West Eugene, with two new jobs, I developed some protections to keep myself safe and to reduce emotional risk. I worked a lot. I took hula. I played with my dogs, worked on the farm, built fences. I spent as much time with Jake and Sara as possible (and as they allowed -- they are, after all, pretty busy people). I spent time with dear friends and family. My calendar and plans kept me safely cocooned.

I did not reach out to meet new people (neither men- nor women-people). Then, sometime in September, I decided I needed to break out of isolation. Taking lessons from Jake, I met new folks, asked questions, learned. And broadened my horizons.

On January 1, I practiced this new skill at Breitenbush, where I was spending three days in a meditation retreat. And a whole new world has opened up – a world I am busy exploring.

Protected

I built walls around myself–

invisible walls

strong walls

protective walls

hung with calendars and to-do lists

activities and commitments

My walls have doors and windows–

locked doors

narrow windows

of leaded glass

I wear the keys to my locks and knobs

on a fine chain hung from my heart

Within my walls, behind locked doors

I built my nest

I built my life

I rebuilt my self

removing masks, I hid old façades away

and faced myself by myself

And then I slip'd into the world–

into starlight

into chaos

into magic

leaving my door unlocked and window open

calendar pages floating away.

kim

February 2010

Fear Place?

A recent conversation ended in an assessment I hadn't considered -- I was told that it is nice that I don't go to my "fear place" and take offense at statements. Which has me thinking about the journey I've been on for the last decade of my life.

I think I was exceedingly skilled at stuffing stress down, building walls around the pieces of my life so that I could keep issues and fears at bay, and also so I would never really have to look at those issues and fears.

One catalytic event in May 2006 caused the walls to crack, and I found it increasingly impossible to keep things separate. Like the levies of New Orleans, a little overflow soon eroded the whole system, and I had to either rebuild, or learn to enjoy the floodwaters.

I think that the "fear place" is different than the fear or hesitation or caution I feel when I force myself into uncomfortable situations, either personally or professionally (and which Jacob addresses with "Don't be afraid"). I think maybe the fear place is that little dark spot inside where you are convinced that you are not good, that hinted criticisms or vague critiques get blown into very negative assumptions and hurt feelings. The first is an action, the second a reaction.

I spent a lot of time in my fear place back then. And easily took offense, though not in an assertive, "you can't talk to me like that" kind of way. Rather, I think I took offense at criticisms because I believed all the criticisms to be true.

I have grown up a lot since then. And realize now that I can not change someone else's behavior or attitudes or beliefs. I can only work on presenting an honest view of me. And I can state my boundaries out loud, though I still need to let others decide if they can live with my boundaries. And if they can't, then I have learned to let go of those relationships.

So, do I have a fear place anymore? I suppose I must, but I haven't visited it in so long, I think I've forgotten the path.