Left Hand: Fully Intact, Partial Success.

This week’s mindfulness challenge has been a learning experience to say the least… I am functionally a child with my left hand, as I have been brutally and constantly reminded. And reminded, and reminded and reminded. I feel like I’ve been reminded so many times this week that I have zero chance of survival without my right hand that I might take out a separate insurance policy on it. It’s been hard to live as a lefty. For instance, as I type this blog post, I am only typing about 20 words per minute compared to my usual 70. I have to constantly spur my hands on and remind my left thumb to kindly hit the space bar, please… (sometimes not so kindly) a function my right thumb is usually encouraged to do automatically for me. At the same time, since I’m concentrating so hard to space, the rest of my left hand stops working to help me pay attention. My left index finger seems to be so distracted that - not only can it not find the ‘b’ key, it has even stepped up a few times and hit the space bar on it’s own, as if it’s so exasperated waiting for my stumpy thumb that it steals the synapse from my brain and performs the task. Great, I have an impatient limb, what’s next? In fact, the space bar has been the most frustrating part of my current mindfulness task, but I don’t see this frustration as a detriment to my success because of a very strange shift in my consciousness. Instead of wanting to give up because I’m frustrated by this infernal lack of dexterity, I find myself turning to my thoughts instead… What specifically is frustrating me this second? Is it my lack of patience? What will an extra 10 minutes typing this blog cost me? Is it the clumsiness and lack of control? There isn’t a prize for the most graceful typing performed on this airplane. I have a strange sense of calm as I ask my mind these questions, as I observe the emotion and related thoughts, and instead of taking action… keep plugging away at the space bar with my left thumb. Remarkable.

I’ve seen some other tiny changes in the parlor of my mind, where all the thoughts hang out and normally get ignored while I zone out and go on vacation from the work of operating a human body… All week as I’ve eaten (sometimes with senior leaders in my company snickering at me) with my left hand, the self-consciousness of being awkward has been replaced with marveling at how my left hand – seemingly useless – has adapted to the work and constantly improved. I’m less aware of my perception of others while I perform these tasks and instead intrigued by examining and seeing them as they happen. Consequently, while exploring the angles of the left-handed spoon approach, I have been clumsy enough to drop pea soup all over my white blouse (can’t tell you the last time that happened) and then struggle to operate a tide pen to treat the stain.

It hasn’t all been frustration and spilled food, however… I have become a much better lefthanded mouse-operator. I’ve caught myself a few times reaching for a pen with my left hand because it was close, and then keeping the pen in that hand. It’s because of this increasing ease that I’m glad it’s time to move on to the next challenge. The point of this exercise was to access the perspective of beginner’s mind, one where no muscle memory or practiced routine could allow your mind to check out. If I use the left hand enough that it assimilates to the routine, I’ve gained the use of my previously worthless hand, but must find something else to focus my attention in the pursuit of mindfulness.

Surprisingly, with my left hand, I create more pleasing drawings. It could be the extra cognition I’m giving the task, or perhaps that the right hemisphere houses the creativity centers of the brain and plugs them directly into your reach… or maybe it’s the light touch and active listening my hand does in concert with the pencil. I don’t care why.

My handwriting, however, has been compared to both that of a first grader and a serial killer. In this example, I rewrote my notes with my right hand to compare, and was pretty surprised to see some similarities. It’s as if the left hand is a 6-year-old me (I am not a serial killer). A 'me' I have the opportunity to cultivate and exercise. I sure am glad I gave myself the opportunity.

 
This week's challenge is called 'Leave No Trace'. I have to choose a room in my house, I chose the kitchen, and for the whole week, leave it exactly the same as it was before I arrived. All things put away, only food smells and memories to remind me I was there. I think it will be useful, there are a hundred times a week it seems that I could make it all the way to the dishwasher with something but I leave it on the counter or in the sink instead. I'm looking forward to having clean counters. Also, I think it will give me a chance to appreciate the tiny things in my house that allow me to live my life this way.. each pair of chopsticks has a role, each surface should be respected, and even the garbage has a place in my life that I should appreciate. I'll examine them all.
 
Happy mindfulness. And Thursday & stuff.

Abracadabra

Goodnight, internet, I wrote something for you on your day off:

I like to disappear quite much.
In a song, a poem, a moment,
To slip tawny espresso foam
Past my lips to the abyss beyond.

I like to be aware as well,
To feel, interact and influence.
To see my world, awake, alive
In this moment, this place, I belong.

The assignment, then, is to sneak...
Knowing and aware and awakened,
Just beyond senses, unnoticed,
At once, invisible and present...

And be gone.

Dr. King's Dream

I'm guilty of believing a little too much in American history. I read the headlines, but not the story. Today... almost 50 years after the famous 'I have a dream' speech, I find myself humming the songs I heard growing up, a little white girl in the south.

You may ask yourself, "Why would a little white girl sing songs such as 'I Shall Be Released', and 'We Shall Overcome' ", and the answer would be because my parents believe in the oral tradition, something near and dear to Dr. King, Jr.'s heart. The spoken word carried the gospel of his Lord to almost everyone in the new world, brought hope to early slaves and song to their heart with the stories taught in this manner. I love the spirit of change in the early 60's... concepts like race and class were new to the world stage, characters we hadn't judged a hundred times before. All of our fates were shaped by hate and the reactions to it and we reacted in childlike fashion. Just 50 years ago, we asked folks to kindly use a different faucet to drink the same lead-laden water that poisons our small towns today, no invitation required. We feasted on produce that kills everything in its path, but us... and argue(d) over the correct monument to the times in our past, like Dr. King, Jr.'s speech just before his death about being a living monument, himself -  having a dream.

Dr. King saw the end without fear. Sensitive to any perception, he even spoke of his own funeral, leading to the famous paraphrased quote on the memorial, 'I was a drum major for justice, peace and righteousness'. What I believe he meant during this controversial speech is that the change does not belong to one person, but rather, to the movement that carries those people forward, toward goals like justice, peace and righteousness. People carry this change, shoulder its weight and rhythm, but not the goal. Let us benefit from his awareness, the sacred view he held just before he was gunned down in Tennessee.

Dr. King, Jr. knew that the state of humans is suffering. We always suffer something at the hands of society or the fate of the universe. What was fundamentally different for Dr. King was that he refused to sit idly by as this fate was cast upon him and the people he loved, so he drew them into the cause. He taught generations of Americans that we can interact upon the course of the Universe. We decide. He made proclamations, which at the time seemed impossible, and in my short lifetime, I've personally realized this (among others) for the Dr.:

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I've seen the country clearer than anywhere else from the top of Stone Mountain, Georgia, where my parents were married before the area became public land. While I don't go about trying to prove the good Dr. King right, I try to live the best life I'm capable of... that's all Dr. King talked about all of those years ago.

There have been a number of times I've steeled myself against this speech, saying to myself be incredibly brave, like you can't possibly be alone, like Dr. King was. That sounds a little like rhetoric, but the truth is I've clung to his revolutionary spirit through my entire life, when there is nothing else to help me be brave, I ask for Dr. King's strength. I ask for that vision, for that faith, and for that commitment. I believe it takes little acts of this bravery to live life for even us normal folks, and if we believe in the right goal, and apply the correct commitment, we can be just as memorable - unstoppable - and poignant - in our age. I am continually inspired by Dr. King's work.

Badly, today, I try to sing "Oh Freedom", a spiritual Joan Baez sang during the March on Washington, in which Dr. King proclaimed to 'Have a Dream' about life in our time. I hope his work inspires everyone today, in spite of the crude delivery I give it. We owe it to our community to champion positive change.

Mindfulness Challenge

After coming down from the extreme high of two weeks of roadtrip, I’m finding reality is a real drag… I decided this year I wouldn’t make any New Year’s resolutions since I think it’s a little of a joke to change your life because of an arbitrary date, but as it turns out, I have one after all: Be better. Be a better wife, friend, daughter, employee, listener, musician, writer, humanitarian, appreciator, artist, teacher, activist, human, just be better at all of it.

So I’ve been trying to feed myself as much as possible, mentally and spiritually. I started reading a book called How to Train a Wild Elephant by Jan Chozen Bays, M.D. It’s kind of a workbook of exercises in mindfulness, there are 53 of these tasks in total, and I’ve decided to do one a week throughout the course of this year.

The first of these exercises has been difficult, funny and awkward to complete. During the first week of my year of mindfulness, I’ve endeavored to use my non-dominant hand for tasks I normally relegate to my right hand. This means brushing my teeth, opening doors, turning pages, applying mascara, and a host of other mundane tasks are being handled by my left hand. I’ve been doing most of them for 30 years with the right hand, and it’s been ridiculously hard to do certain things. The concept is that if you bring more attention into your daily life that you will be more present, more aware, and more mindful. I don’t think I need to describe for you how exceedingly difficult it is to visit a public restroom with this club of a left hand for my only tool. Dexterity and ease are things I take for granted – for certain.

Just remembering to use my left hand is part of the challenge. I’ve been wearing a giant ring on my right hand so I have a visual reminder of my task, but there are so many things we do that are truly automatic, without looking or thinking about the hand that performs the task.

I still have a few more days to wield my useless arm as my primary tool for handling the universe, but I already have a few learnings to share. For instance, I have noticed a few times in this week when I have consciously performed tasks with my right hand in spite of my resolution to ignore it. Running late, my right hand can’t be beat for expediency. I don’t think of this as a slip, however, because the simple fact that I’m paying attention to which hand I’m using is proof of mindfulness. I know that I’m using the right hand and why – and this is the most important lesson. Teaching a class while mousing on my laptop with my left hand is frankly embarrassing, and I hope a week of it will improve my skills. Also, I spend a lot of my time on autopilot. Driving a car, eating, washing dishes, and surfing the internet are all tasks that I barely participate in, even though I’m in charge and just being aware of this ignorance is empowering. I invite you to join me in taking on a new task each week…

This is just week 1. Hopefully I survive this year with all my digits.

Home Now

I'm starting to decompress from the weeks on the road... so I'm working on a recap of the last 2, at least. Meanwhile, I'm busy with the mundanity of catching up on laundry, cleaning the house (which I left dreadfully dirty) and running errands.It's been great to eat, sleep and play on my own schedule, but I have to acquiesce to the home routine. Seems like the same place I left, alright... these are my clothes in the closet, and my art on the walls, but I think I'm looking at them with a slightly different perspective.

Some of it is actually different. For instance, we came home to 3 new pieces of furniture, one of which was in a box unassembled. No note. There is a curling iron in the bathroom that is not mine, and... perhaps the most curious - this note was on the coffee table, written on the back of a map I left behind. I don't recognize the handwriting:

I've been analyzing the handwriting sample... I have a guess as to whom the author is.

I'm grateful to have family and friends willing to put up with our cats reign of terror while we were gone. Especially those of you who had to deal with the many bodily fluids they used as weapons. Enzo says he's really sorry. As you can imagine, we took a lot of photos and we're going through them, so expect a full summary of the trip soon.

Return

We're now entering our final descent into Dallas/Ft. Worth, and all tray tables and seat backs are in their full upright and locked position. After a full day in Albuquerque, we timed our last leg of the drive so that we could catch the quadrantids meteor shower peak tonight from dark sky country, west of town. If you're up around 3-5am tonight, look to the north sky around the constellation Bootes. See this site for details: http://mashable.com/2012/01/03/quadrantids-meteor-shower/

Folks in the city will see fewer meteors due to light pollution, but those outside the bustle and hum should see up to 60 meteors an hour during the quads' sharp peak.

This is the last meteor shower until April, and the perfect finish to my walkabout. Expect a full recap, including details about my top-secret missions - soonish.


And happy birthday to someone special who is no longer with us... You're on my mind, as always. I know you've been on this trip with me like an angel on my shoulder. I love you.

Walkabout - Beginning the Long Journey Home

I'm headed home, and this is as close as we came to the Wave, my goal for the Utah leg of this trip:



Although I did have an interesting conversation with a couple of locals we met in Kanab, Utah at the vegetarian restaurant Laid Back Larry's. Valerie (the most honest small business owner in southern UT) and her customer suggested that the fine that they charge for trespassing on the Wave without a permit was not steep and worth it to see the Wave if you didn't make the lottery to get a hiking permit. I can't find anything that lists the actual fine, just a few forum websites that call it 'astronomical'. This is an idea for the future... as it is, my suprise from last Tuesday wouldn't have survived the hike today after the tough climb yesterday, it was wise to drive today instead.

Since we were out of luck for the Wave, we played around with some time-lapse as we left Zion, watch the background as we exit through the switchbacks.

Since our route home backtracked over something we'd already driven, we saw the other side of some really fantastic views and were able to prepare for them. Lake Powell is even more jewel-like from the West:

We passed through a part of northern Arizona near Bitter Springs that looks out on the valley above Lake Powell, this time with the time-lapse turned on... this is amazing:

After that, we passed the rest of the state of Arizona in the Navajo and Hopi nations, in big stretches of open terrain, surrounded by strange little outcroppings of rock. Some that looked like bricks, some that looked like chewed-up chewing gum.

Parts of the countryside appeared to be flat until the road turned and opened unto a huge basin below the blind plateau.

It seemed like the entire state was populated with roadside jewelry stands and prefabricated housing. There were many sad-looking homesteads. We passed into New Mexico just after sunset, which we caught - for the first time this trip - in the rear-view mirror. This was the first day we weren't headed north or west.

We made it to Albuquerque long after dark, and plan to putt around here in the morning until we have to head east again. Many more hours of driving before we are home, not that we really want to get there before we have to.