Category: Connection

What my happiness jar taught me about love.

So, if you’ve read my other posts you somewhat understand that I deal with depression.  One of the many articles, books, blogs, classes, I read or attended suggested the happiness jar project.  I think they encouraged you to find and write about something good every day for a year, but you might also remember that I don’t have the best memory, or follow through, so my 365 days of happiness was more like 100 randomly selected events I thought to write down.  Anyways, I went through it a couple weeks ago and rewrote all the events I deemed a big deal into a little notebook for future reference. (I am also a packrat and keep a ton of memorabilia, I assume my bad memory is bound to only get worse so this is how I intend to remember the wonderful life I’ve had.)

So anyways, I noticed something while I was going through and writing everything down.  And I felt it worth sharing and reflecting on.

The most noteworthy things were not things that were done for me; by myself or others, or gifts that were given to me, or really of any direct benefit to me.

The things that I wrote down most, and the things that brought smiles to my face while I was rewriting, were the things I’d done for other people.  I am a jewelry maker and at Christmas time, though I didn’t have a lot of money, I was blessed to have product that I could donate to baskets for people in the ICU over the holidays.  My friend turned 40 and I wrote out 40 great things about him and put them in a jar for when he felt he needed a boost. I went to visit a friends partner in the hospital as an act of support to them both.  And these acts of love were the kinds of things I felt good enough about to stop and make note of.

This tells me two things about pop culture and the messages we receive on love and loving.

One.  

We don’t have to be perfect to help others.  I always see memes that say things like “you can’t love anyone until you love yourself.”  Love is a verb, an action word. I can show love even when in the depths of despair. I don’t have to heal all my wounds in order to be of service to others.  I can be so down and falling apart and still, if nothing else, help someone to see what NOT to do.

Two.  

While I was in Nepal, I attended a ten day Intro to Tibetan Buddhism course.  The nun who was the primary teacher for the course, and who was also a western european, got up one day and talked about the concept of compassion fatigue and told us this is a concept only of the West.  In the East it’s thought that it’s by sharing that we grow. The more compassion we extend, the more we can feel and see. You may have heard the story of the candle being able to light all the other candles without being extinguished.  This is what we’re talking about here. I’ve worked in some terrible environments in the realm of mental health, and identified as having compassion fatigue. I have told myself I am better staying home, sheltered from potentially draining situations, when in fact getting out, finding it in my heart to be kind,to extend love, might be the very remedy.  It’s not that we’re fatigued from being compassionate, it’s that we’re fatigued from long hours, obligation, expectation. Maybe I shouldn’t speak for all of us, though I’d love you to contribute your thoughts! But I know that I sometimes expected that my efforts made change, or felt only obligation to sit and listen, not a genuine interest in being of service.  Sometimes I was so tired and felt so unheard in the environment I was working that I had too much resentment to unveil the loving support I wished to offer. It’s nothing about being tired of helping, caring, loving. It’s the conditions we apply, implicitly or explicitly, that make it exhausting.

When I wanted to seek out ways to be of service, I found them and they filled me up.  They gave me more reserves, more genuine interest and energy, and more heart to continue being of service.  And it didn’t matter that I may have struggled with self doubt or hatred the day I dropped off the bracelets at the hospital.  It didn’t matter that I couldn’t stand my reflection in the mirror the day that I made my friend a jar of 40 things that are great about them.  It didn’t make a damn difference how I felt about myself when I put love out into the world, and it actually gave me a little more love to give.  

I encourage you to find the place within you that is true.  That is loving, kind, compassionate. Generous, affectionate and warm.  Find that place and offer from it, and take a moment to notice just how much it fills up your cup.


by admin

Reflections for Anti-bullying day.

So, I haven’t felt that inspired to write this week, but hoped that a series of slightly uncomfortable social events would give me the nudge of creativity I needed.  I assumed I’d come away with something positive and reflective, but unfortunately I came away with a different sort of influence.

I chose to go to an event I likely otherwise would not have gone to, in order to support a friend.  I invited people to go with me and shared about this friend and all their wonderfulness. I even brought a congratulatory gift for said friend.  

I got home from my adventure feeling so lonely and needing to call my beau to vent and shed some tears.  Because you see, I approached this friend with offerings of kind words and gifts to be barely acknowledged and almost literally shoved aside for the other supporters.  I felt embarrassed and small. And the worst of all, I imagined that those I brought along would think less of me.

I reached out to one of my companions and braved expressing this fear and was wonderfully supported.  He said that my being disregarded made him think less of the one who’d been rude, not of me.

Isn’t it funny that someone can mistreat us, and our conclusion is that we are unworthy, rather than that the person was a dick?  And it dawned on me that THIS is bullying. This is how it works. I spent my early days of puberty being chased around my elementary school by girls in the grade above me because their boyfriends had found my number (I’m assuming in the phone book) and been calling me to flirt.  The mean girls would spit in a circle and push me into it. They would chase me and call me names. The girls in my grade had asked me to join to “popular” crowd and I said no because they wouldn’t also take my best girlfriend, and then they brought her on and she ditched me. I was full on bullied.  I was mistreated. But you know what? I didn’t walk away from that situation thinking I was great. I knew I’d done the right thing in standing with my “friend” but I didn’t feel good about myself. I felt full of shame. I felt NOT GOOD ENOUGH. I felt fearful of highschool. I felt like an outcast.  I went from a straight A student, to the kid with purple hair smoking cigarettes out back the school.

This is how I felt when I arrived home after going out to support this person.  I felt small. I felt sad and wounded. I felt like I was bad. My wonderful friend said to me, “I will never think less of you for something someone else does” and these may have been the best words any of us could say.  If you see someone has been bullied, say this. MEAN this. Other people’s behaviours are not a reflection of me.

“At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.”  -Maya Angelou

February 27th was anti-bullying day.  Please, when you put words or actions out into the world, consider the wise filters; are they kind, are they true, are the necessary.  Remember that it might take an extra minute to be kind, but it could be the difference between a manageable and unmanageable day for the person you took that minute for.

by admin

6 practices to combat the despair felt when faced with the state of the world.

I completed a degree in Anthropology in University.  Anthropology is the study of all people in all times and places.  That’s actually how it is defined and it is about that broad. There are branches of it, most familiar being Archaeology.  You know, Indiana Jones or whatever. Anyways, many of my teachers brought to our attention the state of the world. The impacts of globalization and my beloved travel.  The fact that all around the world people are marginalised, starving, living in a variety of terrible conditions. The way other cultures practice spirituality that keeps the people connected to the earth and each other, while our society focus’ on bigger T.V’s and being the CEO of the company you buy them from.  Needless to say I became quite depressed, more so than before. I slipped into a fairly nihilistic mindspace and even had a counselor refer to the super highway I’d made in my neuro pathways from sadness to despair. Whenever I heard some new awful thing, it would deepen.

Fortunately, throughout my time in University I also started exploring Buddhism.  I’m beyond grateful to live in an area that is home to two amazing practitioners and teachers who have dedicated years and much energy to their own practice.  Dr. Cheryl Fraser (who just launched her first book click here, which relates Buddhist theory and practice to sexual relationships,) and Lama Mark Webber.  A lot of people hear of the Buddhist concept of ‘equanimity,’ which is loosely translated to mean non-reactivity, and think that being Buddhist means being passive. That we’re meant to practice and reach a level of full acceptance and never challenge the injustices or realities that I spent a lot of my time in school observing.  

This is not the case.  

Just yesterday I went to a talk where Cheryl related this concept to the serenity prayer.*  It doesn’t mean we accept it all, we accept only what we cannot change. We still practice effort, we still do what we can to make the world a better place, but we don’t let the despair of that which we cannot change keep us inactive.  I reached a point in my education where I became inactive. But then, I started to connect with the powerhouses in my community that were doing what they could. I reigned my focus in and started volunteering on a small scale farm and with a non profit offering sliding scale counselling.  I was empowered.

An image from the 9 acre organic farm that I volunteered with.

These were big things that demanded time and energy I might not have had if I weren’t a student.  They required training and many hours. Maybe you’re thinking “that’s great, but how am I supposed to do that on top of full time work, 3 kids, fur babies, grocery shopping, exercise, art group…” you get the idea.  So, I like you, am now spending more time working for money and less time working for free. So what are some easy ways to contribute positively? Here’s a list of 6 of the things I do.

1. Reusable shopping bags!

I have several that I keep in my car, my home and even my purse!  It’s an easy thing that can keep from contributing to the devastating plastic that’s building up in the ocean, on beaches and killing many sentient beings.  I’m forgetful, so I can also be seen shuffling with arms full and items in my mouth, clumsily opening my car door, because hey, even one less bag is something.

2.   Donating

So you travelled to Bali and while riding on the back of a scooter through the beautiful hillside you spotted a dog who was only skin and bones and was moving so slowly and painfully that your heart broke.  (True story.) Yes, you want to bring home every stray, unloved animal and show them the good life, but we can’t. Not really. But we CAN donate to the SPCA or other rescue societies. We can donate time or money, we can adopt a stray, or we can even simply share their posts about, now healthy, animals that need a new forever home.

While in Goa, India, I stayed at Saraya which was a eco hostel. They were saving and reusing water, small scale farming, and hosting volunteers from around the world. It’s happening everywhere folks!

3.   Conserving water

Being mindful about how often you shower or bath is an easy one.  I don’t want anyone beating themselves up for anything. But I bet even if the consideration is just in your head, it’ll make a difference.  Plus I do things like use the water that I rinsed a clean cup with to fill the basin that I do the rest of the dishes in. I wish I could remember the film I watched years ago where a young African boy was taken to somewhere in Europe, I think.  He got thrown in the shower with a bunch of other boys and screamed bloody murder when he saw all the clean water just flowing down into the drain. That did it for me.

Bought from two amazing local ladies in Qualicum beach. Beeswax food wrap to replace saran (made by their mother!) And a bar of soap they make themselves with all natural products.

4.   Supporting Local

Consider your purchases.  We, especially those of us on vancouver Island, have limitless potential to support local.  There are so many talented independents here either producing and supplying stores, or running their own businesses.  Check out places like Local and The Departure Bay Aromatherapy Boutique for a variety of wares made by local artisans.  Or shop at Thrifty’s who had a wide selection of local producers. Eat at restaurants like La Stella that support local farmers.  There are so many ways to give back to the community you’re in and provide friends, and friends of friends. with their children’s education or their heated homes.

5.   Being kind

It’s pretty easy to look at the news (which I never do, but I’m still infiltrated through socail media) and feel like people are inherently evil.  Wars of varying degrees, shootings, beheadings, robberies, rapes. One act of kindness can go a long way. We all have those moments where we’re walking down the street stuck in our minds storm cloud only to be greeted warmly by a passerby, or have a door opened for us, or the person ahead of us in the drive thru buy our coffee.  We can be that person for others, and it can change the whole day.

6.   Practicing self care

Maybe contributing positively seems like a burden on an already overwhelming list.  Maybe getting out of bed and having a shower is the main accomplishment for that day (I’ve been there!) That’s okay.  Focus on having that shower and be compassionate for wherever you are at. This might be the biggest thing you can do, because if you learn how to be compassionate with yourself in these moments, you learn to be compassionate with others.  I truly believe that something so simple as an understanding look when you’re expecting judgement can alleviate so much. And If we could all be a little more compassionate, I think there would be far less chaos.

Drier balls. I made these by wrapping 100% wool yarn and wash/drying until felted. They work like Bounce sheets but no chemicals, and you can scent with essential oils!

Better wrap it up! I’m passionate about this, and feel as though I could go on and on.  I thank you and honour you if you’ve made it this far. The biggest thing to remember is that every small thing DOES help.  And the more people care, the more changes will be made. There are amazing things happening all over the world. Plastic bag and straw bans, solar energy panels, rooftop gardens.  Free health care, sliding scale counselling, shelters. Small scale farming, foodshares, and composting. Cloth pads, steel straws and natural cleaning products. The list goes on. We are powerful, and if we let go of the focus on all those things we CANNOT change, it allows so much space and power for those we can.  

What are some of the ways you contribute to the betterment of the world?  Yes, there are ways!

*God, grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

On Vancouver Island?  Check out Island Dharma for information on Cheryl and upcoming classes and retreats.

by admin

Perfectionism and Taking Flight

I claimed on my ‘about me’ page that I would attempt to send out a new post every Sunday.  I’m now a couple weeks in and I have not sent even one out on a Sunday. I’ll explain here that this is not a reflection of my ability to follow through (although I do struggle with self imposed deadlines) but was in fact due to technological issues.  I am not a technologically savvy person and this has in fact been the most challenging project I’ve engaged with a computer. After many failed attempts leading to me day dreaming of blowing up my laptop, a friend agreed to help me work out some kinks.  This involved my initial writing to be posted and retracted several times and then several posts being added in quick succession to see how they would show up on site. All seems to be working swiftly now, so here we are on a Sunday and I’m feeling the need to follow through and pump something out.

I don’t feel entirely comfortable writing purely because I said I would.  I’m afraid what I will put out to the world will not reflect my ability. I’ll tell you, this whole week I’ve been quite sick too.  Yesterday was the worst day and it was too much to even look at a screen to send quick texts. However, I also feel when something is so important to me, like this is, that I should really try and stick to what I set out to do.  So, on this lazy, snowy, recovery Sunday, I’m sending you a brief check in.

Some years ago, I received a book by shame researcher Brené Brown called the Gifts of Imperfection.  I devoured it quickly and keep it on my shelf for encouragement. There is a passage out of her chapter on perfectionism that relates perfectly to what I’m talking about above.  

    “Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to do your best.  Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth.  Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgment, and shame.  It’s a shield. Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that’s really preventing us from taking flight.” [p.56]

If I waited until I was confident that everything I put onto this page, or out into the world at all, was perfect or even a reflection of my very best, I would never take flight.  I would never have put together this blog, or posted the three posts I’ve already created. My biggest achievement today is journaling about great ideas of things I could write about and deciding that, after reflecting on my state of health, I would instead take a moment to allow myself to be imperfect.  To focus more on the act of writing and creating to post on the timeline I gave myself, instead of holding out until I’m SURE that what I’m posting is worth your while.

An example of imperfection at it’s finest. Came camping with all but the tent poles. I tell you one thing for sure, it had no effect whatsoever on fun levels.

I wish you a wonderful Sunday, and I hope that you find a moment to let down your wall and let yourself be imperfect too.  Our imperfections allow us to connect to one another. To be human, to be able to laugh at ourselves, to have joy. Be playful, mess up, and share your stories with your loves.  Until next week,

Alexis

If you’re interested in reading more of Brené Brown (which I wholeheartedly encourage!) click here.

I’d love to hear about some of your battles with imperfection, feel free to message me!

by admin

On the discovery of Sylvia Plath.

So, I recently fell into a fairly significant period of despair.  Short lived by my standards, maybe only about 2 weeks, but it was bad.  I don’t often think of suicide anymore and my thoughts, at the least, were slipping back there.  I’d been in fairly consistent turmoil about my relationship for months and waking up and spinning out in the middle of the night was maybe legitimately making me nuts.  My self doubt confided in me that I don’t know what’s best, my anxiety created all sorts of terrible situations, and my depression told me there was no way out. I found some distance in a weekend imbued with self care; yoga classes, full moon ritual, massage and a beautiful room overlooking the ocean and the distant city of Victoria.  I came home with a little hope and sparkle and a few days later my sweet Franco died.

I didn’t fall so far down when he died, but it came when I got angry and thus, shameful, a few days later.  I was at work one day emotionally preparing to depart for winter cold Calgary and feeling nothing but hate and anger.  The general relationship ambiguity, the death of my baby, on top of the slough of other anxieties I’d sat in through the winter months (what I want to do for work, where I should live, if I should continue teaching yoga,) all weighing on me.  I guess between the overwhelm and the grief, I just slipped out of my grasp on self compassion.

So, I arrive in Calgary and due to weather related flight delays i’ve finished the majority of the novel I brought along.  While my man heads to school, I peruse a nearby thrift shop to find my next victim. Knowing nothing of Sylvia Plath, aside from her name which I assume means she’s great, I spot the Bell Jar.  I take it off the shelf, bring it to the counter to pay for it, and maybe not even a day later I started to read it. I immediately liked her writing and went to my trusty google page to see what she’s all about and to see how many amazing books she’s written for me to start the hunt for.

For those of you, like me, that know the name but not the tale, I’ll tell you just a bit.  Turns out she was predominantly a poet. The Bell Jar is the only book she wrote and it was published under an alias.  It also turns out, to my surprise, that she died in 1963. I further explored and found that she had died by suicide at the young age of 30, only 2 years my junior, and that The Bell Jar was a semi autobiographical account of her first suicide attempt and subsequent treatment.

I found it interesting that I stumbled upon her work, specifically this one, at this time.  I devoured the book in what remained of my holiday. I found many eerie sentences scattered throughout the pages that reminded me of myself.  I even noticed almost verbatim quotes that I’d said only days before while venting about my current state to friends. If reading an autobiographical account of someone’s days before suicide and relating intimately doesn’t spook you, I don’t know what will.

My morbid curiousity wants to find and read everything she ever wrote, and I likely will.  She’s a great writer and if nothing else, I know that reading great writers contributes to great writing.  But more than that, I relate and feel less alone. While The Bell Jar does end with her being approved to leave the facility and face the world, we now know that Sylvia Plath did not make it long outside those doors.  Despite Plath’s tragic ending, the honest and vulnerable account of this part of her experience is touching, relatable (for one who suffers depression,) and profound. As if the story wasn’t enough, she walks us through it using sentences like, “By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream.” And, “I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.”  

I was in a class in University in which the professor asked the class to meditate for 5 minutes on a time when we felt truly happy.  To consider the elements of the sensory experience, the people who surrounded you, and then to spend time with a partner, then a small group and then the whole class, picking out themes.  In every scenario, in every one of the 40 or so minds, the main theme was connection. Connection to self, spirit, nature, others, but always connection. My hope in sharing my own experience is that others will respond like I did to The Bell Jar.  There’s an openness around mental health that has evolved over the last while that I want to continue to propel. There is strength in vulnerability and I will continue to share in hopes that it touches hearts, opens minds, and ultimately breeds the connection our society longs for.  

If you’re interested in further exploring the works of Sylvia Plath, click here!

by admin