The Voices in my head need to start singing together!

I just finished doing my morning connection/prayers and I realized that I only feel like I was giving them half of my attention.

I know I said all the words. I know I meant the connection. But I also know that I was thinking about my latest physical and was the sun going to show itself today and does my tree have enough water and...

It's like that when I'm driving also - at least on familiar routes. I think I am paying attention - because there are a lot of pedestrians in this town. And sometimes blinkers don't work. And then I get to my destination and get out and look back at my car and realize my parking is really wonky and I'm not sure how I got there. But I have figured out what I want to do next on my work project.

It happens when I'm taking a shower. Or doing my exercises. Or eating a meal. My brain starts taking off in random directions, worrying or niggling, and I'm no longer paying real attention to the here and now. I think I'm multi tasking - but not really. I'm just not paying attention.

I used to think it was very cool that I could hear two (and if I really worked at it, three) musical parts in my head. But now it's time to weave those voices back together in one strong voice that says what I really want it to say; guides my body to what I really want it to do; pays attention to the physical world so I can act and react in a safe and beneficial way for myself and be aware that I've done it! 

For the morning prayer, it's easy enough (well, easy enough to figure out how to do it - not so sure if it's easy enough to do it.) I speak out loud; so I want to think the words at the same time I'm speaking them. 

Humorously, as I write this, I realize my words go a little before the actual act of writing. And there is a dipping into something? A wandering off? in order for there to be the next thought or idea.

And there is the internal editor, watching the words as they appear on the page and making corrections.

Ugh. Can you imagine what it would be like if all of those different mental attentions came together and focused on one thing? Can you imagine driving with all of the attention on the road and the traffic and how the car is handling? Can you imagine eating with all attention on the food and the flavor and how the utensils feel and the chewing and digesting? 

Is this what athletes feel like? They have to be aware of their bodies and the next move and the signals from outside.

Maybe doing anything requires a lot of split focus - because  ideally, we are paying attention to outside signals and we're interpreting that data and we're inhabiting our body AND we're doing whatever (typing or eating or driving or walking or pushing a puck or singing a note or speaking or solving or resting or watching.) 

Maybe it's not just MINDFULNESS. Or, maybe it's time to add another phrase to that word bouquet. Attention. 

Hmm. I'm going to have to think about this one. 

How did I do it?

I am pretty proud of myself about my morning routine. It's taken awhile to figure out what really helps me connect in the morning, what fulfills the itch to read and write; what gets my blood flowing and helps me wake up. And I have long versions and short versions.

I would love to wake up sooner in the morning, so I could actually start exercising consistently again. Between the holidays and health issues, I have been allowing myself at least 6 hours of sleep, regardless of when I go to bed, so I don't always have a lot of time in the morning. I am working on that.

In fact, I have been working on that for awhile. I mean. If I want at least 6 hours of sleep, I should go to bed at least 6 hours before I want to wake up, right? If yoga class starts at 6 and I want at least an hour to ease through my morning routine, I can go to bed at 11, right? That's not even early! And if I want to go to bed at 11, I just need to start my nightly routine at 10. Heck, 10:30 if I want to "just finish one more chapter." I can do that. Right?

Right?!

Yah. I have a long history of doing exactly NOT that. And I don't know why.

I am trying to remember how I got myself out of bed in the morning. How did I connect with my morning routine so well that I can convince myself to leave the snuggly warm covers and the relaxed state and the day dreams? Wat tool or thought process or incentive did I use to get myself out here? 

Because I know there is a key, a switch, a thought, a something that will help me get by butt TO bed at night instead of watching one more show and eating one more thing and playing one more game. I know I will be happier if I go to bed sooner, so I can get up and do more things in the morning.

But maybe that's the problem right there. I am trying to get myself to bed so I can get up and do more? At the end of the day, that is not any kind of incentive. IF I hasten to bed, then I hasten the next day and more work. Let's just stay up a little longer and enjoy this being the END of the work day. No more responsibilities today! Just appreciating other people's work. Visiting other peoples worlds - where I don't have to do a thing but enjoy (or be judgmental.) 

Huh. That actually explains a lot. Because I have a long history of stress about making decisions, living up to my perceptions of others' expectations, and a fear of doing the wrong thing. (Well, more a fear of people thinking or knowing I did the thing wrong.) And I'm doing much better now, attuning to what I want, and knowing that everyone is doing their best and everyone makes "mistakes" and no one is better or wiser than anyone else - there is no grand master of right and wrong, no matter how many beings or institutions want to claim that title.

But I still don't want the responsibilities. And the longer I stretch out the night, the longer it takes to get to the new day of "things to do."

Which, lets me honest. My morning routine is filled with things to do. Responsibilities to myself. I enjoy doing the things, but it is a to do list. Hmmm.

So. How do I reframe it at night? Because ultimately, in the end, I am Happier to have those morning things done. And I would be happier to have the nightly routine done also. To wake up with a feeling of satisfaction that I have done things.

Hmm.

Where's my fourth wall?

 I have a great house. It took a while to get everything I ever wanted, but I have it - pretty much everything I ever thought I'd really like in a house, deep in my heart.

It's a corner lot, so not squished between two neighbors. And a lovely large yard. There's a basement and a bedroom for an office - a really big garage. The upstairs bathroom could use some work (like, a way to make it a lot bigger!) - but there is a large picture window in the living room that lights up the whole room - when there's light to be had. I can see forest and river from my window; I have a gas fireplace, and all of my electronics work - at the same time!

At yet, I feel trapped in my house. 

Because I don't really have a back yard, per se, or a deck, or anyplace to be outside (where I'd love to be) that has the illusion of privacy.

In theater, the space between the stage and the audience is called the fourth wall - it's a wall that the audience and the actors agree is there, a separation of watcher and watchee, each group being in their own different reality but knowing the other is there - like a two way mirror. In television or theater, when the character looks out "past" the screen and engages the audience, that's "breaking the fourth wall."  

In life, the fourth wall is what fences are for - or balconies. They are an illusion of separation of space, of worlds. An agreed upon boundary.

I want to be able to go outside and be private. To sit in my grass or work at a table; dance around or plant flowers; cry or hug trees or break plates or whatever. I want a little oasis of grounding space without feeling like everyone is watching. Or without feeling like anyone can invade my space at any time. 

Hmm. How long does it take for trees to grow?

Ascension

 It's a fuzzy feeling, kind of. Like I could just dissipate into a trillion atoms, with the gently sparkling effects one might see with Star Trek tractor beams or fantastical creatures turning into dust.

And the strange part is, I feel so connected. 

I'm not sure if I need to stay still a little longer. Exhale or inhale or hold my breath. Reach a little or pull back a little or just be.

Do you know how hard it is to just be when you're not sure how you became in the first place?

It started with the singing. The weekly song circle (of which I am an irregular attendant). The last few times had been - well, had felt extremely chaotic to me, in the midst of my already chaotic life. And then I lost the fight with the flu bug. 

I had been insure about going back except - I missed singing. and I missed hugs. and I missed the varied energies from the way people connect with the divine and the way they express themselves. A room full of people being (or learning to be) themselves fully and wholly and trustingly. It was - well, of course it was chaotic. And I enjoy witnessing the chaos, I just have never been a contributor when it came to music. 

Make a joyful noise?

So I went. And I sat on the floor - which turned out to be a little removed from the circle, which was okay with me. I am learning to be myself - which mean not matching others' energy or getting wrapped in the chaos if I want silence. I am learning, still learning, still practicing reaching in instead of out. Which becomes great stillness inside and a swaying on the outside. 

And the more I focused in, the more I could feel the great connection, which felt like it could lead to the great dissolve. 

In a way, it reminds me of that period right after the heart attack, when I felt such lovely peace and freedom and lifting. 

And I think I can do it. I think I can reach in, more and more, and connect more and more. And be weightless and solid and fuzzy and real, until it's time for me to dissipate into the Universal Song. And maybe this physical body (my current physical body) won't dissipate with me. But maybe it will. Maybe it will crumble and fall away and I will burst free, scattering to connect with earth and fire and water and air and the trees and the flowers and the crows and the squirrels and all of the songs and the rays of light and all of time and space. With so much love and connection, how can I stay a small ball? I must reach and connect and scatter and be.

From the heart.

I made this!

 This morning, as a I was snuggling into my couch preparing for my creative time, thoughts ping ponging against every conceivable subject, as they do, I stopped to marvel at how comfortable my life is.

Literally comfortable.

On almost every perchable surface, I have something warm and fuzzy - a blanket, a fuzzy pillow, a beloved but no longer wearable sweater or jacket. I have stuffed animals in almost every room. I have soft rugs and warm colored curtains and cozy objects - like tea pots and gnomes and things that are green and things to be read. Oh, and lights. I have lights, draped and strung. 

It is possible I have too many of some of these things all in one spot. There are days when I wish the designer had shown a little restraint. I would like sometimes to wake up and be in a place that feels a little more pristine and clean instead of cluttered.

But on the other hand, this house feels like it's okay to live in it. 

And I get so tickled, sometimes, at how comfortable it is. Look at this, I think. There are pillow pets and fuzzy blankets on this couch I sit on every day! I get to snuggle into flannel sheets on a bed that has a lovely plush mattress pad protector. My life is soft and snuggly and warm and fuzzy. 

And I realize - and it feels so strange that I have to tell myself this - I am the one who allowed my house, my home, my life to be this way. I am the one who decided I am going to put those stuffed animals in my living room and I don't care what any (hypothetical) visitor says. I get to have a big white blanket on the couch and have to share blanket time with my cats. I chose this rug and those curtains and to keep watering that plant. I told my tall spouse where to hang the lights. 

I made this space into the cozy comfortable space it is.

And I don't know, anymore, where that lingering feeling, like I'm getting away this something, like this is verboten but I am doing it anyway - I don't know where that came from. I don't know where most of my internal ideas of how something should look or be spring from. Probably books and tv shows and things I internalized as a child. Maybe there is even some form of "everything must be in it's place" in one of my personalities. Certainly my stubbed toes might prefer to have fewer cat toys on the floor. 

But happily, my internal Better Homes and Gardens critic has quieted over the years, because I love sitting down and marveling at how comfortable my couch is. Grinning in delight at the cookbooks displayed on the antique baking rack. Sitting on my cushy couch, just reveling in the comfort. 

And knowing that if the choices I made for something as simple as a comfortable life work in the physical world, where else can my choices, my preferences, my desires manifest?

So yay me! for all the beauty and cozy in my world. And thank me for this comfortable life.

Don't be a unicorn.

 There is a mug/meme/bumper sticker saying - one of many, I'm sure - that reads "Be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then be a unicorn."

I always cheered that. Of course! Let's be unicorns. Sparkly, magical, bright, shiny, unique.

Except. That seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? To always be bright and shiny. To always be magical. To always be unique. There is a certain expectation of awesome individuality in the idea of a unicorn - a gift, a prize, a mark of favor if one is a friend.

And, much as I love admiration and friendships, I don't think I want to work that hard. I don't want to be constantly on, every time someone else is in the room, so I am giving the full unicorn experience. And these days, the "unicorn experience" is different for everyone, isn't it? Do Unicorns poop rainbow glitter (or glittered rainbows), do they protect you with their deadly horns? Do they seek virgins or just the pure at heart? Are they wise and curious and get in deadly debates with dragons? Or are they meek and gentle and spend their time trotting through sun dapples forest glades? Are they horses with horns? Or whispers on the wind?

No, being a unicorn is too much about someone else's world view. And don't get me wrong, I love unicorns. I believe in them and I am blessed to connect with them. I am a unicorn girl all the way (except for the glitter poop and barfing rainbows. People, please!)

If  I was going to be any alternate being, it would be a cat. Not only because cats don't care, and they are mysterious and unique and aloof and cuddly and even those of us who know our cats best can never be 100% sure what they're going to do, but also...

... because cats don't care what others think of them. They aren't, to the best of my knowledge, trying to fulfill some ideal of cat-ness. And yeah, we want to be friends with the cats (unless we're allergic,)  we seek cat approval, but we accept it when we're snubbed. And we let them walk away. Or curl up and sleep on us. Or dip their tail in our milk. (I mean, we get mad when they do that, let's be honest. But we aren't surprised when it happens. And we tell stories about it later.) 

Yeah, if I'm going to be myself to the ultimate best of my ability, all the time, then I'm going to strive to be like a cat.