Breath of Morning

If you do not find a way to generate some mindfulness at the beginning of the day it becomes even harder to find the time as the day continues and you get caught up in your inevitably busy life.

One such practice is to find a way to remind yourself to breathe and smile even before you sit up in bed and place a foot on the ground. Remind yourself that this day is a gift, that it is wonderful to be alive, even if the day before you is busy and includes people and tasks you would rather not have to deal with.

Try to find a way to touch the wonderfulness of life even before you get out of bed. Some of the clouds passing through may involve planning and worrying about the day ahead, but at least yo ucan create, alongside such thoughts, the awareness that at its base this is all wonderful.

—Thomas Bien, Mindful Therapy, qtd. in Daily Doses of Wisdom #124

I woke this morning from a terrible dream in which I was cursing people I love over nothing. Waking, the dream stuck in my head. I was beginning the day clenched, lost to anger and hurt.

Whatever the reason, I asked myself if I could take a breath and try to unclench. I inhaled, held, and exhaled feeling myself opening as though in e.e. cummings' "somewhere I have never travelled":

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

At first, I breathed to push against the dream, but then I let some of that go too. The dream stayed with me but not the clenching or as much of the fear. I'm still having to remind myself to breathe and finding it difficult to smile, but it really is wonderful to be alive and awake in this world.

That and now I'm thinking of the somewheres I have never travelled more than I'm remembering that terrible dream. The lightness of breath somehow lifts the weight of dread. Almost as though I were able to do magic.

Laundry and Have To

The washing machine is almost done. This morning I want to get some things done. Last weekend I bummed around. This weekend I'm trying to be less of a couch potato, so I threw laundry in the washer, then wrote Morning Pages. It will be ready for the dryer as I finish this.

Most things I avoid turn out to be this easy. The more time I take imagining complications, the more difficult things seem. If I just do things, they turn out as easy as measuring detergent and turning the knob.

Laundry is too easy to dread, but I talk myself out of doing these things. I'd much rather write Morning Pages. But the machine does the work while I write. It's not an either/or.

Even when a task seems like drudgery — scrubbing the kitchen sink, for example — doing it is fine. I squirt cleanser and scrub while listening to music. Five or ten pleasant minutes later, the sink is clean and I feel good.

I forget that when putting things off.

I resist feeling I have to, but really I almost never have to. Nearly everything is a choice. I chose to do laundry, chose to write Morning Pages, chose to type this. Later, I'll probably choose to scrub the sink.

If I choose otherwise, I'll have fewer pieces of clean clothing and a dirty sink. Who cares? Have to is a lie I tell out of fear. I don't have to believe the lie or the fear.

The washer is done. I'm choosing to move clothes to the dryer. Why not? It's not like I have to and it's just so easy. I should try to remember that.

Seeking Simplicity

"When hungry, eat; when thirsty, take a drink; when sleepy, go to sleep" — Zen saying

It's the simple things with which I struggle. This is why I'm fat. It's why our house is a mess.

Bigger things often feel easier. Over eight years, I saved for and then bought a Tesla. I manage an organization approaching $2M in value and a staff of a dozen. At home, I pay bills, keep us out of credit card and student loan debt. Big stuff.

But I eat when not hungry, drink with no connection to thirst, and stay awake long past feeling sleepy. I've put laundry in the machine but the den is covered in pet hair and there are cobwebs in the kitchen. I have four letters from a friend I haven't answered. Yet still I find time for Twitter.

All of this is difficult to accept though I bet acceptance is the first step. It's difficult accepting I haven't run in weeks, still haven't hung the paintings at my office. I make coffee each morning, write three pages by hand, but won't pull on running shorts or hammer a couple nails.

Am I whining? I hope not. Mostly I'm trying to understand.

I've written blog posts this week, one each morning without worrying if I'll do it again the next day, just enjoying. A Zen master might say, when the thought begins, write.

Perhaps that's a start. I'll think it over while moving laundry from washer to dryer. Maybe I'll consider it while vacuuming to the den. Maybe today I'll ask, am I hungry, do I thirst, or am I ready to sleep? Which is to say, maybe I'll consider the things which are and aren't simple and that have simple answers in this complex life.

Oops

Last night, I learned I've been doing something wrong that affects our organization. I learned this in a workshop with two board members. At the next break, I said, oops, shook my head in disbelief, and owned it.

They were understanding and we agreed immediately on the fix that improves the whole organization.

Last week, a staff member made a mistake and, rather than come to me, tried to hid it. They are new to the organization and timid. I told them, I have no problem with mistakes and don't have use for blame so long as we're open and apply fixes. I worked with them to fix things, it was no big deal, and we're better for it.

I told them how, as a kid, I broke a window with a ball and panicked, feeling I'd be in big trouble. But I told Dad and he helped me fix it without recrimination. His message: when things happen, we fix them.

Decades later, my daughters broke a garage windows with a ball, came to me, and we had fun fixing it together. That new window was better than the one we'd replaced.

Last night's oops pointed out a broken thing. Fixing it makes for a better organization. Fixing it together made us stronger.

Oops is accepting that things happen. It facilitates a fix and brings in help. Oops, more often than not, makes things better than they were before.