At ages 7 and 8, I would get what people called, “growing pains.” Around bed time I would be overcome with horrible leg cramps. My calves felt as if they were tied in knots. My mom and I tried everything: walking up and down the hallway, heating pads, ice packs, rub downs, pints of water before or during the episodes. Nothing seemed to work except time.

Then one night I was lying in bed wishing it would just stop and I got a notion to be as still as I could. Being still when your leg feels like it’s popping with white hot pain is the exact opposite of what you want to do. I lie there as still as I could and I concentrated all my attention on the pain. Felt it. Really felt it. I didn’t think “healing.” I didn’t think “go away.” I didn’t think anything. I just felt it .

The pain disappeared. The knot in my leg unraveled. Completely gone. I tried that whenever the leg pains would hit and it seemed to work every time.

Decades later when I was pregnant and also experiencing nightly leg pains, it worked again.

I don’t know why it worked. I’m sure there is a medical reason as to why the pain hit and possibly a physical or spiritual reason as to why it disappeared when I concentrated all my energy upon it or as author Penney Peirce says, I began “feeling into” the pain.

I’m reminded of this because of late, I’ve had some neck and shoulder pain intensify and as always my first instincts are to:

• Medicate
• Caffeinate (like that really helps, but it’s a go-to addiction)
• Distract myself with busy work

When these prove ineffective I look to my second set of go-tos:

• Breathe.
• Sit down or lay down
• Breathe some more
• Ask my body what it needs

And somewhere during the second set of go-tos, I got the inclination to feel into the pain. To be with it. Often, it worked.

I so wanted to write a blog that would illuminate this phenomenon and share the powerful insights about exactly what was happening.  I can’t. Not yet. But I’ve asked the question, why? So I’m sure the answer is near.

What I can provide insight about is that I’ve also begun feeling into those painful emotions that have been cropping up. Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Again, the emotional pain is somehow released. Even the anger, and I’ve been conditioned that anger was “bad” and therefore tried all sorts of twisted remedies to rid myself of it. When I just took the time to feel it, sit with it, experience it ping-ponging around my heart and gut, it was transformed. It was transformed into news I could use. By feeling into it — instead of lashing out, burying it, or denying it –  I often gained insight on a cellular level about where it came from and why it was there. What I found out most recently is that anger was really self anger — anger about the physical/spiritual and emotional gifts I was denying, repressing and turning inward. Does that sound a little too esoteric? Yeah, it does. So let me break it down.

I tapped into some anger recently that was racing like an Arizona brush fire in my body and psyche. What I discovered when I tapped into was that I was mad about a trip that someone close in my life was taking. A leisure trip. I sat with it, felt it, and made another discovery. I was angry because I wasn’t allowing myself any fun time. I was sacrificing. Again. At what cost? Tight muscles. Hostility. No good.

Another recent episode: I was angry/resentful about some of my work load.  I sat with it, felt it, and realized it wasn’t about the work I was doing for others. It was because of the work I wasn’t doing for myself. I wasn’t blogging. I wasn’t doing any extracurricular fiction/exploratory writing. Again, the cost was enormous. The fix, once I knew was at work, was relatively easy. Get busy doing my own thing.

So  is taking the time to feel emotions and achy body parts  really so profound? No. I suppose I would have advised a friend to do such a thing had they asked. But like anything in this world, you don’t know it until you know it.

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. ~Maya Angelou

Today I am thinking about my friend and co-worker, Diana.

She died last night.

I am thinking about how she transitioned from co-worker to friend in such a short time — as so few colleagues have in my life — because of how she led with her heart.

Diana made people feel good about themselves, about their situation in life, and even their shortcomings and less than graceful moments.

I have only known her a fraction of the decades that some of my coworkers have. But I know her impact on me will last a lifetime.

How you see people is a reflection of your own desires, prejudices, beliefs and opinions about yourself. I say this as a way of celebration of all the things she was, and all the things I aspire to become.

Diana:

• Made small talk. She just wanted to connect with people. It could be through weather observations, a new haircut, a work-related compliment. I’ve always looked down on small talk. But I learned through her that by engaging in small conversations day in and day out she made people feel that what they said or did mattered. How much of a bigger gift can you give?
• Remembered your birthday, your children’s birthdays or that it was a year ago at this time that your wife was diagnosed with cancer. She was the one who brought the cake at her own expense for the entire office, passed on that so-and-so was having a hard time and would love to hear a kind word from you, observed you were unusually quiet. Was everything OK? she asked. Though I admit to at times resenting the interruption from work flow to sing “Happy Birthday,” I never walked away from a marked milestone without being grateful for the pause button to remember that life is about lifting up people. And sometimes, if you’re lucky and you have an office Diana, with cake!
• Didn’t try to fix you and didn’t judge you. She just let you share what you thought and felt at that moment. In doing so, she allowed a lot of hot-headed, poor-me, or self-absorbed words to pass through me before they manifested into thoughtless actions.  
• She listened. How many times do we tune out what someone is saying because we so desperately want to share our next thought?   
• Loved butterflies and dropped pennies. She considered them messages from people who had passed on that they were still about, just in a different form, letting you know you mattered. This morning, I saw a butterfly. This morning, I saw how lucky I was to have known Diana.

I’m starting to really know something. Know it in my bones. Know it beyond if it were a choice in a multiple choice quiz.

I know from observing my thoughts in meditation that some of the thoughts speak ill of me. The thoughts are delivered from a voice that is either very tsk-tsk church lady or very Eeyore-esk (“I’m just looking for my tail…”) The voice comments on my appearance, my lack of concern over the cleanliness of my bathrooms, my over busy-ness and under achievement. That’s OK. I just observe. I don’t judge. The voice and the thoughts she brings are like clouds, albeit dark clouds, that pass through the sky of my mind. I am not the clouds, they’re just thoughts. I am the sky.

I know this. But that’s not what I know now.

From practicing meditation now for a while, I’ve become aware of observing my thoughts throughout the day too. Not just when I’m sitting in meditation. And some of these thoughts as delivered by the voice are judge-y and often downright aggressive, trying to induce feelings of guilt, inadequacy or unworthiness.

So this is what I know: I can quiet the voice.

These days, I’m trying to act in faith. I’m trying to be bold, I’m trying to let spirit speak through me more. Apparently this makes the voice angry. She’s whipping out her satchel of negative thoughts with:

• You can’t possibly do that!
• Ahem, didn’t you try something similar and you failed?
• What makes you so special?

Yes, she really said that. What makes you so special? Like some middle school mean girl.

Finally one early morning I was walking and the voice began in rapid fire to remind me of what it called tangents that I’d went on before that led nowhere. I’d had enough. I told her to shut up. The past has no bearing on now, I said.  So shut up. And she did. Wow, really! That’s all I had to do?

It was all I could do not to rush to my computer and send that out on the news wire.

Of course, over the next few days I told the voice to shut up and sometimes it worked. And sometimes it didn’t. But during the process of our sparring, I learned how the voice operates.

The voice:

• Likes to bring up the past. A lot. As in, “Remember that one time you thought/did this and failed?”
• Likes to bring up the future. A lot. As in, “If you do that, you’ll embarrass yourself, disappoint the people you love or live to regret it.”
• Likes to kick you when you’re down.  You may already be feeling low about something and the voice chimes in with an “I told you so. “  That’s not a friend people.
• The voice loves the status quo. Stay here, she says. Be safe. Be secure. Be…if not happy…at least no worse off.
• The voice likes to prevent alternative ideas, or second guess at just the moment something makes your heart soar. Yes! I’m going to organize a women’s retreat/write a book/take that European cruise! The voice, if not outright telling you it’s a bad idea, offers safer, smaller alternatives. Instead, the voice says, start a writing discussion group/keep a journal/go spend the night in a local hotel.

I’m guessing by now you know the voice I’m taking about. And you know that it’s preventing you from exploring your calling. Or maybe just taking a nap.

There are ways to silence this voice. But first, a little about what I’ve learned you don’t want to do with the voice.

You don’t want to:

• Stoop to its level by defending yourself. The voice bullies you by saying something rude or defeating like, “Wow, what a mess you’ve made of things.” And you respond by saying, “I have not!” or “What about the time I did X and everything turned out fine?” Then you’re engaging the voice in a school yard brawl, and more often than not it will win. It has lots of practice.
• Overlay the voice’s negative thoughts with happy thoughts, especially ones you don’t quite yet believe. Example: “You look fat in that outfit.” Happy thought: “I look pretty in this.” Ah, you don’t believe it and it just gives your voice an invitation to keep coming at you with “proof” that it’s right.

Here’s what you can do:

• Tell it to go away. Simply say, I choose to believe otherwise.  If the voice says, “The Earth is round,” you say, “I choose to believe otherwise.” What can it say to that? Nothing. Any “logical” arguments the voice supplies goes nowhere if you’re firm about choosing to believe something else.
• Use a positive affirmation to transform your thoughts. Negative thought, “I’ll never be able to afford that trip.” Affirmation: “What I desire is already on its way” or “I make money easily and frequently.” Repeating affirmations work when a lone happy thought doesn’t because it goes to work on our beliefs. Repeated often enough, affirmations transform our beliefs, essentially depriving the toxic thoughts with the fuel – or negative beliefs about ourselves and our circumstances – that they need to survive.
• Bring yourself back to the present moment. As mentioned, the voice likes to live in the past or the future, any time but the moment you’re experiencing right now. I had to use this method just a few days ago, which for me, meant chiming in and singing off key with my three girls to Abba’s “Dancing Queen” while we were rolling in our minivan. Not a bad moment to be in.
• Finally, if the voice won’t quiet by doing any of those things – because you really believe the voice is right – you can consult Byron Katie’s The work. In this work, she asks that you ask four questions of the voice including:  Is it true? Can you absolutely know that it’s true? How do you react, what happens when you believe that thought? Who would you be withut the thought?

So this is what I know: I can quiet the voice.

And it needs to be silenced. Fear, guilt and feelings of unworthiness douse inspiration. The voice is not my protector, as it claims to be, it’s my wet blanket of stuck and status quo. I want to hear the kinder, loving, inspiring voice of my intuition. Don’t you?

The other day, an odd thing happened. Something that hasn’t happened since before I had children – maybe even longer than that. I had almost forgotten what it was like it had been so long.

There I was, wondering from room to room, absent-mindedly running my fingers over counter tops and furniture, staring out in space. My sister called and hearing the same lazy, spaced out sound in my voice said, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong. I just realized in that instant that I was bored. Bored. Huh.

In the last few months, I’ve been reorganizing my life, trimming the fat mostly. Reducing hours at work, refusing to take on new projects, taking naps, clearing some visual and mental clutter. I wanted to give myself space. I wanted to feel refreshed instead of burned out.

And it brought me in a very short time to…boredom.

Yay! While it may have been quite some time since I was bored, I do remember that it can be a powerful, creative force. Actually, I didn’t remember this right away. I only remembered because in that moment of boredom, having nothing pressing to do, I sat down and some images popped in my head. Of me growing up in a remote area of Kalispell, Mont., wandering the forest for hours because there was nothing else to do and delighting in nature. Me finally grabbing a pen and paper to write a story to entertain myself because we only had one TV channel and even that didn’t’ work so well. Me daydreaming on my bed as a young girl and finding the whole experience delicious.  As adults I suppose we call it visualization. But either way when your current environment isn’t offering as much stimulation as you’d like, daydreaming/visualization is a wonderful way to pass the time and maybe learn about yourself.

Which brings me to the reasons that I shall be embracing this rediscovered boredom, rather than trying to eradicate it.

Boredom….

• Can invite more fun into your life. When there’s nothing you need to do and boredom appears you can think about what you want to do. Dust off that bike in the garage and go for a ride? Sure. Grab a stack of magazines and couch surf for an hour or two? Nothing stopping you.
• Can open the gates of your intuition. Boredom is as if a pause button has been pushed, slowing the mind chatter and the furious turns of physical activity. The silence and stillness created is just enough to hear that little voice inside you or recognize the signs of a path you should have been taking you otherwise might have zipped by.
• Can spur creativity. Now’s the time to try that recipe you’ve always wanted to try. Now’s the time to sit down and try your turn at an essay, children’s book, poem, whatever that’s been rattling around in your head. Scapbooking? Go the bedroom closet, get your material down and remember why you fell in love with it in the first place.
• Can bring forth buried emotions. As I found myself in the soup of boredom, some surprising emotions bubble up. I suddenly began feeling. Feeling sadness over the passing of friends that I had never fully mourned. Feeling anger at myself primarily for discounting my own needs and desires. Feeling an undiscovered fear that I wasn’t “enough.” Wow, that was kind of deep. I think this is why many people stay so busy and avoid boredom at all costs. They don’t want to meet up with themselves and face the emotions, the desires, the regrets they’ve been avoiding. But the thing about these emotions is that once they’re given attention, they move through us and are gone. When I acknowledged them, I felt lighter. More connected. More compassionate toward myself and fellow man.

Boredom is a rest stop on a journey that allows us to regroup, get our bearings and decide for ourselves which direction to point toward.  I can attest it feels uncomfortable but it’s only temporary. And I’ve learned it can lead to a treasure trove of insights and long-buried desires. Ellen DeGeneres has said in a stand-up routine, “Procrastination is the solution, not the problem.”

I think the same thing can be said about boredom.

Kenneth Branagh, a Shakespearean veteran and current director of Thor, writes in the May issue of Oprah that meditation never gets easier.

The meditator of 10 years says it was, of course, a difficult practice to settle into and remains that way.

“It’s as difficult as ever, but the practice has changed my views of the world,” he says. (Read full article here: http://bit.ly/mp3TNy)

We can only guess what he means by difficult and concur that the practice of meditation is mood-altering and mind-changing.

But I wondered for myself, is it true?

Of late, I’ve been on my game and meditating twice a day. I’ve found the time and I’ve found the willingness to sit anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes. I’ve meditated off and on for probably two decades but only got serious about it in the last five years.

I conclude that “difficult” is both true and false.

The True:

• My mind thinks of 10,000 things I could or should be doing just as I get the notion to sit and meditate. Ack! I forgot to pay the electric bill. Maybe I’ll make blueberry muffins and delight the kids before they wake up. I can meditate later, but I must see how Dateline NBC’s disappearing doctor episode ends now.
• It’s impossible to establish a meditation routine. More than anything, “difficult” is defined in my meditation practice by the fact that I have a job and my husband has a job with no set hours. Sometimes he’s out the door to catch a plane at 6 a.m., sometimes I don’t return home until 11 p.m. and then we may reverse that the next day.  Add kids to the mix whose own schedules are disrupted by illness, doctor’s appointments, early release school days, etc.. and following a strict meditation schedule – as recommended by many a sage meditation instructor — proves impossible. Wouldn’t it be less difficult if I could just say I’ll meditate as 6 a.m. and have that be so?
• Twice-a-day meditation for months on end doesn’t mean I am guaranteed an achieved state of bliss as I meditate. I don’t really know if after 20 years of steady meditation that will be so, or if I’ll continue to have seesaw experiences. One evening I can instantly fall into a state of calm and feel that I make a deeper connection to spirit as I meditate. The next morning, my to-do list keeps eagerly and persistently interrupting my meditation like my 3-year-old when I’m on the phone.

The False

• Meditation is less difficult in many ways because I have let go of expectations that it will be this transcendent experience. I’m not really contradicting myself here, as I just pointed out the seesaw experience of meditation. I’m saying that I’ve made peace with the fact that each meditation session will vary. It’s because I’ve discovered the true impact of meditation is felt not when you’re quietly saying your mantra on the couch, but when you’re out in the world dealing with life as it happens. Regardless of the ease of an individual meditation, the act of just being for a time and letting whatever comes come, translates into a more joyful, peaceful day.
• It’s easier for me to stop making excuses. I used to be much more attuned to the reasons I could not meditate. A crazy schedule, no quiet place, having so many important things to do.  I’m much better at looking for opportunities. Arrived early for an appointment, why not take 10 minutes and meditate in the car? Children deeply engrossed in Play-Doh creations? Go ahead, see if you can get 5 to 10 minutes of meditation in the neighboring room before a fight breaks out or one of them is in need of juice.
• I’ve embraced the benefits of meditation. Knowing that if I meditate I laugh more, yell less, feel bursts of creativity and suffer less confusion and struggle has made it easier for me to meditate often and regularly. This, above all, makes meditation less difficult than it was when I started.

Meditation is a practice. And like any practice — yoga, bird watching, curtailing the amount you swear every day, a certain level of proficiency is reached the more you dedicate yourself to it.  Yet  no day is ever the same and new challenges and discoveries await.

I’ve always disliked the phrase, “Everything happens for a reason.”

I think it’s because it seems such an insensitive thing to say during such a difficult time for someone – after the death of a loved one, the loss of a job or a goal or dream derailed. I understand the gift-in-every-situation scenario and agree, but the word “reason” implies some justification. And how is a friend or loved one going to take comfort in the fact that whatever has befallen them is somehow justified?

The word “reasonable” also grates on me.

“Be reasonable.”

“Beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“Reasonable prices”

“Reasonable chance”

You’re not really endorsing any thing, place or idea when you call something reasonable. As in, the restaurant’s prices were reasonable. Or there’s a reasonable chance this stock is going to go up. The car dealership will give you a reasonable deal on a car.

Really?! Sign me up! With that kind of recommendation how can I resist?

So as I roll around this word in my head, I ask why am I getting all hostile toward a word? It’s just a word.

Except in my life, reason, reasonable and reasonably has tipped too much toward a way of life. 

A synonym for reason is satisfactory. So to rephrase, I’ve made many decisions of late that were “satisfactory.”

I’ve regretted a lot of those satisfactory decisions.

For example,

• Getting a reasonably good deal on my wedding photos, but a deal that did not include developing the film. Seven years after the wedding, the film sits on the top shelf of my closet.
• Foregoing a Chopra Center trip because it wasn’t reasonable to spend money on a “want” when we had so many “needs” at home.
• Dozens of small purchases like eye glasses, winter coats, items on a menu because I believed it’s what I could reasonably afford, without giving a lot of thought to what I would want.
• And recently keeping the scope of my personal writing “within reasonable boundaries” and setting aside time that seemed “within reason” given all the other demands on my time.

Not every reasonable decision was bad:

• I made a reasonable decision to go into journalism because I would get payed to write and make a reasonable living. It also proved to be fun and I have had a chance to meet so many interesting people.
• Before I married, I dated a lot of reasonably fun, nice, creative men that resulted in a reasonably good dating history.

I suppose I’m struggling with the word now because I feel called to write something that is not reasonable. It’s not in an area that I’m reasonably skilled in. And, yet, I can’t think of a single reason that I shouldn’t at least try to write this new piece.

So, because of that, I’m going to try and remember the times that I have acted outside reason and things have turned out well.

• I abandoned a well-paying, challenging  job to return to a small town with a small newspaper in Florida. Friends called it career suicide, especially since I wanted to get to a large metropolitan newspaper like The Arizona Republic. But it felt like the right thing to do so I could live in the same city as my fiancé. I eventually got what I wanted anyway, which was to live and work in Arizona.
• I’ve quit numerous pre-journalism jobs because they didn’t feel right without any savings, spare income or parents able to see me through with a little cash. I always managed to find another job and pay the bills.
•  I chose to have a third child when the doctors said it wasn’t “reasonable” to do so given my prenatal history. It didn’t seem reasonable given our finances either. But what can I say? Those fish sticks cuts in half.

I actually struggle a bit to recall decisions made outside the box of reason that turned out well. I don’t think that’s because there are so few. Rather, I think it’s because it’s naturally easy to recall what didn’t turn out well because it sticks in our craw. Remembering when we chose faith over reason is more difficult. That’s because as we look back months or years later it appears as if – yes! – that was absolutely the right move, how could it not have been when things worked out so wonderfully? Crossing what we saw as a Grand Canyon big chasm at the time  now only seems like a perfectly designed bridge to move us from here to there.

It’s true, too, maybe I struggle with recent decisions made on faith because as I have grown older and had little beings become dependent on me, my courage and trust have receded. But when I look at this from another angle I realize that it’s precisely because of these little beings that I should set aside reason more often and find the courage to take a leap of faith.

They need to see that it’s important to act on intuition, even when it doesn’t seem reasonable.

And that when you do, you will be supported. By your inner resolve, by unseen forces in the universe, by exactly who you need at the time you need them.

Also, and most important, that making decisions according to what is reasonable is not a path to finding joy.

“If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is compromise. ~ Robert Fritz

I began to interview myself during my lengthy commute. I don’t really set out to do that and really only became conscious of it during a particular exchange I’m going to tell you about. But there you go. That’s how I use a portion of the 50,000 thoughts we are said to have each day.

The interview went like this:

Sonja: So tell me why is it that you never get writer’s block? You write so much. For the newspaper, personally, for others as freelance. (Gushing.)

Sonja: (With modesty) Hmmm…good question! I suppose the answer is three-fold.

1. I start where I’m comfortable. Maybe I don’t have a beginning, maybe I don’t have an end, maybe I’m not even quite sure what I’m writing about. I just start.

2. I let go of the outcome. This present piece of writing could very well be the greatest thing I’ve ever written. This present piece of writing could well be the worst thing I’ve ever written. Or it could be somewhere in between. I just write and see where it leads.

3. I trust. I trust that I WILL make my deadlines, that I WILL do the best job I can – and that probably won’t be half bad, that the endings, the beginnings, the in-betweens WILL show up if I keep writing. I also trust that should I really be stumped, some piece of wisdom from a fellow writer, an editor or a songwriter’s words on the radio, will help me work it out.  

It’s not true that I’ve never had writer’s block. I recall having a pretty bad case of it while living in Atlanta. Looking back now, I can see that I suffered on two fronts — I neither let go of the outcome (everything I wrote had to be so, so great) and I never trusted that it would get done.

Anyway, that was the end of that self-to-self  exchange and I entered the working world of my gray cubicle.

Later that morning I’m interviewing legendary jazz pianist Ramsey Lewis. He has composed hundreds of songs, had five gold records, and received three Grammy awards. His well-known hits in the mid-60s were  “The In Crowd” and “Hang on Sloopy.”

Lately he’s composed for the Joffrey Ballet and in 2009 he wrote a musical a tribute for the 200th birthday of Abraham Lincoln called “Proclamation of Hope.”

Ramsey Lewis, now 75, said he suffered a bout of writer’s block. It was when he began composing for the Joffrey Ballet and found himself overwhelmed and underconfident about his ability to write a ballet. Imagine! After his success! He said his wife Jan eased him out of writer’s block by telling him to stop thinking about WHO he was writing for and WHAT he was writing. “Just try to write some nice music and see where it leads. ” And so he did. The ballet score was a success and conquering that fear led to the creation of even grander works such as “The Proclamation of Hope,” which will be televised on PBS April 14.

He also said something else about writing that gave me the pay-attention tingles. In his early days he often wrote and composed using his intellect. But not so anymore. 

“I don’t think in anything creative you can write solely from the intellect. At some time you must give of yourself and write from the heart,” he said. “At one point I was trying to think about what and how I should go about composing. Think about it! Think about it! Think about the fundamentals of music! It’s not until you give up to your spirit and turn loose the handle bars and let it flow that the spigot really turns on.”

Not even noon and already so much information coming at me about writer’s block and creativity.

Strange.

Only it wasn’t.

I’ve been suffering my own form of writer’s block but I didn’t recognize it as that until I came to this point. The reason was that I didn’t call it writer’s block — I called it my-struggle-with-a-big- looming-project-that-I feel-I-must-do-but-am-so- unsure-of-where-or-how-to-start.

Oh, and it involves writing.

 I sent out a prayer flare the night before: Please, oh, please, oh please God and Angels help me to see my way through this.

And in a matter of hours going through the course of my day, I realized I had been provided my light at the end of the tunnel.

Yes, I need to just start — not worry about the what or how.

Yes, I need to trust that answers or people will come when I get stuck.

Yes, I need to let go of the outcome by dropping the attitude that this piece of work will be transformational (though I hope it is), self-defining and THE GREATEST THING EVER!

And, as Ramsey Lewis said, I need to write from the heart, not my overactive head.

Wish me luck,  because it’s easier said than done.

 What goes on inside a marriage is personal business. But it’s also an opportunity for growth. The buffet table of personal growth really.

So I sketched out what I was going to share about a Haller couple argument in the name of SHARED, UNIVERSAL GROWTH and now I can’t decifer my notes — which I made at stop lights in between appointments. (Not being able to read my own chicken scratch is surprising, really, since I take notes in a hurried fashion for a living as a journlist.)

But now the particulars of the argument are lost on me. It had to do with my job versus his job. I think.  

But as I thought of scapping the whole blog idea, I realized I did retain something valuable from what I thought at the time was a wasted night.

I do recall that I accused him of lacking compassion and the ability to hear, really hear what I was saying.  And thanks to a great many teachers, but recently to the wisdom of “Frequency” author Penney Peirce, I know that: “It’s not possible to tell your partner things that pertain only to them; every observation about the other is an observation about both of you.”

It simply wouldn’t be an issue for him if it wasn’t an issue for me too, she goes onto explain, in a much more eloquent way about the people in your life being of similar vibration. At any rate, something went “Zoinks!” in my brain shortly after the argument and I knew I had to do a little investigation about whether I am compassionate or a good listener.

So here and there, in the last three weeks, I’ve been thinking on two important questions:

1. In what ways am I not compassionate/a good listener with my spouse? With others? With myself?

Ah, well, I  lack a certain “open heartedness,” shall we say, when my spouse’s schedule unexpectedly changes, when he or anyone in my family is sick, including me, and I frequently think of what I’m going to say next when someone else is talking, That’s not really listening very well is it?

2. How might I practice compassion and the art of true listening?

I can look into someone’s eyes when they’re speaking as a way of focusing on their message, I can understand that sometimes when a person reacts in anger it’s because fear is present at some level, I can remember the rainbows-and-unicorns feeling  when someone forgave me after I acted petty, selfish or insensitive.

It’s not really important the many ways in which I fall short of either being a good listener or showing compassion when I should. Asking the questions is what’s important. This type of mirror method is more useful than just a those-who-live-in-glass-houses sort of way. It is a reflection of our soul work.  The work we should be doing to “become absolutely fearless and full of love” as fellow blogger and soul searcher Patricia Tomasi writes.

Transmuting hostility or  judgment on anyone  is about the simpliest and most effective way to get at some “truth” of an argument when it’s difficult to see through anger, guilt and stretched comfort zones.

 Perhaps the greatest truth is that I realized I’m not perfect. He doesn’t have to be either.

What’s worked for me before isn’t working anymore.

My lists. My tools. My rituals. My Sonja way of going about the business of the day.

Maybe it’s the Chinese New Year. This Rooster was told to reign in some expectations at the start of the new year in Feburary.

Maybe it’s, as Penney Peirce writes in “Frequency,” the end of the information age and beginning of the intuition age, in which we all can expect a rapid transition to our essential nature.

Maybe I don’t know.  And I don’t have to know.

I just have to go with the flow because protesting and attempts to override are wasting a ton of energy I don’t have to spare.

First, what do I mean by it’s not working anymore?

My prodigious list making is not serving me. I make my lists that try to address work, side gig, child-rearing, spouse-connecting and self-development. For a decade or more, I’ve made lists and they’ve kept me on task and focused. Now when I make them I can’t seem to muster the effort of looking at them.  Or when I do, I don’t follow the things on my list.

• Committing to any sort of set schedule seems to be out. For example, going to yoga every week on Monday, Thursday and Friday. It used to work, now I may go Monday and walk the on the other days. Strict scheduling seems to have gone out the window because there’s always something else popping up. 
• My regimented separation of work and home life are not staying separate. There was work. There was home and children. Now they’re meshing together. Circumstances seem to be conspiring to make it so.
• The things that gave me satisfaction, just aren’t anymore.  For example, having all the laundry done by Sunday gave me ENORMOUS satisfaction to the point of being more like JOY. No longer.  
• There’s no accounting for energy or effort. If I bust tail all day, I may expect to be fatigued in the evening or the next day. And If I rest most of the weekend, I can expect to  be charged for the work week. Not so anymore. I may have an onset of extreme fatigue after exerting little effort at all. And I may surprise myself at the amount of energy I’m exuding and for so long.

Hormone changes? Maybe. But it’s also clear I’m in a period of transition. It feels a lot like after you have a baby. Schedules and rituals are turned upside down. It takes a while to fall into the new normal. It’s exciting and unsettling.

So what choice do I have? Go with the flow or resist. I’ve been doing plenty of resisting these last few months, as a bout with the flu and nagging neck pain have cropped up. So I’m trying, ever so gently and with forgiveness to go with the flow.

For me that means:

• Staying in the moment. I try to be the observer of my emotions and actions and when I notice I’m living in the past or the future I start naming things. That is, I bring my awareness back to what is happening in the moment by reporting on the things in my moment. For example: “This is my couch. I’m sitting on it with my daughter. We are working on her homework together. I can smell her hair and it smells like strawberries. ” After a few seconds of that, I’m back in the present.
• Keeping my expectations out of the equasion. Before, I might have sat down and announced to myself, “And now I will finish this blog.” Now I just say, I will write my blog and see how it goes.
• Practicing opening my heart chakra. This time of transition brings on flashes of fear. I want to close up and protect myself. Instead, I’m trying to visualize my heart chakra spinning smoothly and a bright emerald green. It keeps me open and accepting.
• Repeating the mantra: I allow. (Or sometimes, I accept.)
• Practice being OK with the “unknowing.” Why is this happening? Where is it leading? I don’t have answers for this and I’m trying to be OK with it.
• Doing what I can to feel safe. I’m still defining what this is. I know it’s reading in the bath tub. Taking long walks. Being quiet when I can. Having long talks with my husband.

I hope that one day, I’ll accept and view these changes in effort and tools as its own kind of perfection.  But until then, tell me, how do you feel safe when systems are changing? What do you do when you’re in a period of transition? What are your coping mechanisms?

People ask all the time, when do you find time to meditate? Especially with a job and small kids?

Here’s the thing: If I don’t meditate, I start these run-on migraines. Imagine having your doctor write you a prescription that says, “sit quietly every day” until the flat-on-your-back pain stops. You’d find the time to sit wouldn’t you?  That’s one strong reason why I meditate all the time. It’s necessary.

But as I’ve written about before, the reason to keep up with a meditation practice goes beyond it being preventative medicine. (See: http://www.sonjahaller.com/why-meditating-is-essential-for-me/) The bottom line is I want to meditate because I want to be happy.

It is possible to meditate almost every day.  Even with very real obstacles/blessings, like children, a home, a full-time job, a spouse, etc…Whether you live alone with no job or juggle several jobs and family responsibilities you’ll never find time to meditate. You have to take it. Here’s how:

1. BE AN IMPERFECT MEDITATOR

Give yourself permission to be imperfect in meditation.  Like so many other good-for-us activities, we often quit before we really get started because we don’t live up to our own expectations. We stop our yoga classes because we missed a whole week.  We cease substituting water for coffee because of a deadline that made us guzzle back a gallon of caffeinated beverage. We quit flossing because, well, it got a little boring. We quit drawing, writing or any other creative activity we enjoyed because we weren’t sure we were even very good at it.

2. BE A DROP-IN AFTER DROPPING OUT.  

Be willing to return to the practice of meditation after a lapse. Be willing to return to the practice of meditation despite uncertainty about whether you were doing it right. Were you doing nothing? As close as you usually come to doing nothing? Then you were meditating. Be willing to return to the practice after  not being able to distract your mind about what was going on at “The Jersey Shore” for an entire sitting.

3. RELAX THE RULES

If you were taught to meditate through an instructor, a book, a guided meditation CD, someone probably issued a few rules.

Examples of these rules:

Meditate sitting up with feet planted on the ground.

Meditate in a comfortable cross-legged sit with hands in the mudra position.

Meditate with a mantra.

Meditate in the same place, preferably a place that is well-suited for meditation.

Meditate about the same time every day.

Meditate some place you will not be disturbed.

Meditate for a minimum of 15 minutes

Meditate for a maximum of 30 minutes.

I could go on for pages about the proper way to meditate. I think many of the guidelines are spot on. Could anyone argue that it just makes sense to meditate in a peaceful environment where you will not be disturbed? I can. If I waited for this mythical environment to appear before meditating, I would still be waiting. But it is something to aspire to. One day.

4. ASK FOR HELP

Ask your spouse or children for help. My children are small and they don’t always comply with my request that they remain quiet until I’m finished meditating. But sometimes they do! And my husband, too, will observe requests to leave me be for a time while I meditate. And sometimes I ask God for help. Help me find the time/the place to meditate today. And it happens.

5. GO WITH THE FLOW

 If I can beat the kids up and meditate in the a.m., I do. If not, I might meditate on the roof of the parking garage at work. Or in my driveway just before I go inside  my home at night. Sure, it’s awkward at first, but less awkward the more you do it.

If I have 30 minutes to meditate, I’ll take it. But if an appointment beckons, I’ll accept five minutes.

Here are some other ways to find time and space:

• Meditate…in bed. Before you sleep. It’s not always wise to meditate just before bed as meditation is an “active” state. But I have before and it’s still beneficial. I often meditate when I wake, before even rolling out of bed sometimes.
• Meditate…while taking a break. Meditate when taking a break at work or between tasks. Even for just a few minutes.  Go ahead and pause long enough to focus on your breath, the sounds in your environment, or by saying a mantra for a few minutes. 
• Meditate…while waiting. If you find yourself in line, or on hold with the bank, again, notice your breathing or observe your thoughts.
• Meditate…while walking. See this: walking meditation.

It’s true. you might not go as deep into meditation when you’re standing in line at the bank or while your spouse snores beside you, but the meditation still counts. Even if you only got in five minutes.  If a scheduling glitch meant you had to miss your Monday/Wednesday/Friday Pilates class and you substituted walking instead,  you could still count that as exercise, right?  Of course. Meditation is an exercise of the mind and soul. Every little bit helps strengthen that muscle of focus and awareness.

And here’s something I discovered about meditation. The more I meditate — even in short snatches of time here and there — the more I meditate. I begin finding all sorts of slips of time to meditate. My favorite show is on in 10 minutes do I meditate or go get a snack and ready for my show? I meditate for 10 minutes and then watch the show. I’ve been in my chair writing for 2.5 hours, I need to do something, but what? A walking mediation. 

I’ve stopped making meditation this BIG thing that I’ll get around to one day. I’ve made the practice fun and accessible.

I do it whenever and whereever because all you need to meditate is you.