In which I interrupt this productivity interruption…

April 13, 2011

After dreaming up a new approach to deal with my inner productivity saboteurs, a little part of me started wondering…

Wait. Isn’t this just a fancy way of yielding to the resistance?

I decided No. Not if I can stay centered. I’m imagining it more like aikido. The closer I can get to the resistance, the more I can learn about what it needs. The better I understand its mission, the easier it is to use that energy and momentum for my own secret mission.

But once I decided on throwing a party, I encountered the part of me who is vehemently opposed to taking a break. Especially when things are going so swimmingly. (Are you nuts?!)

Because when I’m in the groove, I want to hold onto it, suck all the nectar out.

And I saw that I was clinging to the flow. Worried that whenever I slip into some ideal world where things are working, I need to keep doing those exact things exactly so or else I’ll lose the flow.

That’s a pattern I’d really like to interrupt. It would feel so much better to trust in the natural abundance of inspiration and motivation. To really understand that taking breaks won’t interrupt the flow.

I want to know, deep down, that rest and play are the very ebb that makes flow possible.

No one has ever told me: Hey, tighten up.

Except maybe me. I say it to myself pretty much all the time.

I’ve heard it said that people go into therapy for either tightening up or loosening up. In Western culture, most need loosening.

I wonder if most people are like me though, and assume they need tightening no matter how often they learn the power of loosening.

Which takes me back to one epiphany I keep having over and over: I always think I need to learn tricks and techniques for getting myself to do ever more work, or to do work in ways that don’t suit me. I always think I need tightening.

I don’t need tightening, I need loosening. Loosening is what delivers ease, what makes my work more enjoyable and therefore more fruitful. And way more sustainable.

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Intentionally interrupting my own productivity

April 11, 2011

When I start making loads of progress on important things, feeling all motivated and productive and prolific–ohhhh I am just so happy. Who doesn’t love that?

Until BAM! I get whacked from behind by this sense of impending doom: internal backlash and sabotage brewing behind the scenes.

I can’t hear any particular voices of cognitive dissonance–just this looming sense of rebellion lurking. After plenty of experience with taking two steps forward, and then being shoved way back, I’m getting better at predicting this sabotage that perks up after making some satisfying progress.

The old way

I try to pretend that everything is under control, like I can just squash the impulse to frolic and lollygag. I make believe that some rebellious ghosts aren’t planning a coup in the back of my psyche.

This playful game of make-believe is immediately followed by those very ghosts throwing a rager of a party behind my back. All day internet! Check-check-check everything! With sugar sprinkled on top! (NOoOoOoOoOo!)

I’m the one who ends up hungover, cleaning up after them, and stuck in recovery mode complete with frustration and beating up of self. Which then, of course, takes even more recovery time.

After that I might go into: Whywhywhy is this happening?

Then I assume I must be afraid of being prolific or successful and try to figure out whywhywhy some more. (For what it’s worth, I definitely am afraid of being prolific and successful. And exploring that is really useful, but not when it’s coming out of an urgent desire to squash the fear.)

Experimenting with a new way

My favorite quote right now is from Thoreau:

When a dog runs at you, whistle for him.

So, if I always have two fruitful days followed by a really frustrating, beat-myself-up-all-day day of swirling and time-wasting and stuck, when will I stop trying to rein myself in on the third day?

How can I start working with myself instead?

Well… I guess if there’s going to be a party, I want to be the hostess.

Why not build the release into the system? Throw my own party for all those lurking ghosts. I can think of it like the wrap parties we have after a production. Only more frequent and (much!) lower-key.

Like production wrap party meets shavasana. Lookout! My worlds are officially colliding : )

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I want to know everything

April 6, 2011

I’m having one of those moments where I realize how much I don’t know.

In this particular instance, almost two years into a fairly intense practice love affair, I’m realizing how much I don’t know about Shiva Nata. About how it works, why it works, the history and the background and the possibilities. So! many! possibilities! Aaaaagughg! Gulp.

I guess a moment like that is bound to happen to pretty much anyone who falls in love with a subject or a process or any kind of thingamajigger.

Which makes me wonder: How do people go on talking about, teaching, sharing whatever it is that they love with the world after they discover just how much they don’t know?

How do you resist the urge to just clamp your jaw shut until you know Everything? The first thoughts that come to me…

I can keep going as long as I remember that:

  • We’ll never know everything. (There, there, Tender Heart.)
  • We can only keep on learning from right here where we are.
  • Where we are right now is very different from someone who just started. Or who is just thinking about starting.
  • Those people might need us to explain this very step to them. If we already knew everything, we wouldn’t be able to share it in the same way. Proximity to experience is useful.

And in the case of Shiva Nata, I already know the most important thing, the thing that gets my evangelical juices flowing from time to time: I know enough to know that it works like the most beautiful magical elixir of truth. (Which I apparently knew after my very first session.)

What other useful reassurances did I forget?

Still, I really do want to know everything.

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Self-employment is great, but sometimes my boss isn’t so much

March 23, 2011

I’ve been self-employed for two+ years now, and if there’s one thing I wish I could change it’s this: I’d like to actually enjoy some of the benefits!

Yes, I’m still feeling guilty about how I get to walk my dog in the middle of the day.

Yesterday was lovely. Cool air, warm sun, feels like the nectar of Spring has sprung. I took Grover for a walk at 11 and felt sheepish in my enjoyment of it. Why should I get to be out enjoying this beauty while other people are at Work?

And by extension, I should obviously be working myself.

I realized a little flaw in that guilt-mongering logic though: Lots of people get to choose how they spend their lunch. Some spend it at Houston’s or Subway or sitting in an office cafeteria (shoot me) or at the gym. Or whatever!

And people make all kinds of other choices, too–like working in those jobs in the first place.

When I left The Firm, so many of the partners there who had “made it” told me that they wished they could do what I was doing. (That was right after I told them that I didn’t have the slightest clue what I was doing, but I was leaving to figure it out.)

And the truth is, most of them could have done it. But they made different choices, we had different priorities. Even so, they still have choices about what to do for lunch. Shouldn’t I?

I know that being active, getting outside, taking a mid-day walk is good for me and my work.

And I know that:
-If I’m not present in my body, I can’t experience or enjoy much of anything.
-I’m allowed to prioritize the things that are important to me, just like Everyone Else.
-People working in offices aren’t necessarily “working.”

Still, all this resistance. Curious about what exactly I’m afraid will happen if I’m not at Work like Everyone Else. Yoohoo, epiphany, where are you?

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Freelance shirk

March 21, 2011

I’ve been trying to piece together a more coherent explanation of my no settling epiphany.

The one about my fear that if I don’t hate something enough, I’ll settle for it. The one with weird flashes of nonsensical insight plus a dream about my high school sweetheart. And which, therefore, could only have made sense in my head, except people seemed to get it.

So I was pondering Kylie’s question about what sparked that epiphany. When I had a shiny, new epiphany.

Hmmm, how did this one happen? Oh yeah, I was thinking about how when I feel guilty about internet swirling, the guilt is really just a stand-in for some bigger, more important resistance. And I was wondering…

Where else does that stand-in pattern show up?

Well, everywhere. But specifically, the pattern shows up in that very freelance work that I settle for even though I sometimes-hate-it-but-apparently-not-enough.

Every time I reflect about work and time and what I really, really, really want from the future, I have one crystal clear insight –>
I don’t want to be doing this particular kind work.

So it makes sense that most of the time I’m feeling guilty for procrastinating and slacking at it. Which made me wonder: If I wasn’t feeling guilty about that, what would I be feeling?

I realized without the guilt, I’d be not hating it and so I wouldn’t feel this contrived urgency to get out. Which would freak me out. Because I want out. Lather, rinse, repeat.

So why can’t I just stop?!

That’s when I realized: One reason I keep doing that work, knowing full well that it’s not part of my grand master secret mission, comes back to that nagging belief that I should be doing Real Legitimate Boring Office Work just like Everyone Else.

If I just stopped doing the work now, with that belief still lingering, I suspect it would feel like running away. There would be all this residual gunk floating around, and I’d still be feeling anxious and guilty.

So this is still about stabilizing my magic carpet. And in the meantime, dissolving the discomfort I feel about being unconventional, about going against the cultural grain. Teasing loose the belief that real, professional, stable work happens in a corporate office environment.

That one has a particularly stubborn hold.

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Writing rituals

March 15, 2011

I need some rituals for writing–a transition that will ease me from whatever else I’m doing into that actual moment where I sit down and write.

But when I go to make some up, my mind goes completely blank.

Sometimes rituals seem to just evolve themselves into being to meet the needs of the situation.

For a looong time now, I’ve listened to the same music every morning when I eat breakfast. It started innocently, but then I started receiving so much comfort and grounding from it that I kept it up, as a way to reach out for that comfort and grounding.

Writing is not breakfast. I never “forget” breakfast.

I have a sense that in this case, not having the (writing) ritual is actually keeping me from doing the (writing) thing. So how could rituals create themselves when I’m not doing the thing enough to give the rituals a chance to establish themselves?!

I realized the missing piece of the puzzle is asking myself WHY I need a ritual –> What is the point?

Here’s what I need when I write:

To quiet down the part of me who is chattering on about how I should be doing something else. (i.e. to remind myself that the act of writing is important to me)

+

To let go of my attachment to the outcome. (i.e. to balance how important writing is with any expectation of a certain fabulous result)

(Actually, the balance of those two needs seems to fit a lot of activities that are important to me. Exercise. Meditation. Okay, pretty much everything.)

Now that I have a little bit more information about what I need…

I’m hoping some ideas will flutter up.

It’s also reminding me of things I’ve read from other writers, like one (Anne Lamott?) who says something about showing up for the quantity and expecting the universe to take care of the quality.

And, of course, there’s Martha Graham:

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening
That is translated through you into action,
And because there is only one of you in all of time
This expression is unique.
And if you block it,
It will never exist through any other medium,
And be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is,
Nor how valuable, or how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly,
to stay open and aware to the urges that motivate you.

Yessss. Maybe reading these quotes could suffice as ritual until I invent some of my own…

I’m also wondering…

Are there systems in nature that reflect that balance between importance and detachment?

The first that comes to mind is a honeybee, intent on drinking nectar from flowers, without any attachment (or knowledge) of its role in the pollination process.

Maybe a benevolent honeybee could be my totem animal for writing…

Any writing (or other) rituals that really seem to work for you?

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I’ll decide what to feel guilty about, thankyouverymuch

March 10, 2011

I was talking with a friend last week who has also been experimenting with intentional spontaneity.

We were both noticing that when it works, life is really, really good: I’m able to follow my flow throughout the day, ideas come easily, work is fruitful, and I have enough time for all the things I want to do. All the things!

On the other hand, I spend a lot of time feeling guilty about what the things are. Like walking with my dog and bouncing on my trampoline. And Shiva Nata-ing. And cooking and reading and sewing and just generally enjoying myself. And all the guilt is kinda ruining the enjoying myself part.

The times I don’t do so well with following my flow are usually internet-related. And not pretty.

As I was explaining how guilty I feel about wasting so much time online, I realized that it might be EASIER to feel guilty about online swirling rather than feel guilty about following my flow.

Because while I’m feeling guilty about the internet, I can fantasize about what a simple fix that is: Once I have it “under control” my day will be perfect and prolific. Imagine the possibilities!

When in truth, then I’d be following my flow and I’d have to deal with the guilt I feel about getting to do all the things I really want to do.

And that is much, much scarier.

I don’t feel much internal conflict about wanting to spend less time online. All the voices in my head pretty much agree that less internet time is a good thing.

The scarier voices are the ones who guilt monger when I’m doing the things I love. And I don’t want to be guilted out of that, so I tend to hush those voices right up.

Like that loud voice booming: “Everyone Else is at Work!” & “Why should you have it so good?!”

The hush up is counterproductive.

My resistance just goes undercover, setting up camp somewhere in my psyche, ever posed for sabotage.

So that’s the resistance I’m learning more about. And weirdly (or not), since I realized all of this, the internet has lost a lot of its sparkle. I’m too busy doing (fun!) things.

In the meantime I had this other funny epiphany: While I’m hiking with my dog at two in the afternoon and feeling so guilty because Everyone Else is at work in an office, the truth is that a bunch of those people are collecting a paycheck to waste a bunch of time surfing the internet and feeling guilty about it all the while.

I know–I used to be one of them!

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Everybody in the pool

March 4, 2011

photo-10

So many thoughts, so many epiphanies!

This morning as I was sitting down to write, I had an image of them all, words and fragments, floating up through my head and then jamming all together and bottlenecking.

All of them trying to shove their way up, to sprout through the crown and branch out.

Gah! Stressful.

And then I had another image of kids lining up to jump in the pool, excited and impatient.

So I asked all the ideas to throw on their swim trunks and line up behind the diving board.

Don’t worry! You’ll all get your chance to dive into the pool! (It’s working… for now.)

How do you deal with too many ideas crowding and jostling, all wanting your attention at once?

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Not settling

March 1, 2011

Yesterday I was hating this freelance work I was doing so much and thinking that nothing will be okay until I completely quit doing it forever.

That extreme urgency got me wondering about the possibility of this being a false wall.

Do I really hate it?

Yesterday when I was working, I didn’t actually hate it. I didn’t love it, but it was okay. (It’s when I’m not working but thinking I should be that I really hate it. And that’s true of any work for me.)

But part of me is feeling really scared that if I find out I don’t hate it enough, I’ll forget that I want to stop. I’ll keep doing it.

And that would be the worst thing.

I went to college in Tempe, where there are too many 120 degree days in August. By Thanksgiving, I would always forget how bad it had been. But after college I knew enough to move away.

I worked in public accounting, where busy season is full of 80 hour+ work weeks. By Thanksgiving, I would always forget how bad it had been. But five years in, I knew enough to move away.

But, but, but…

When I’m working too much, I just want to lie on a beach forever.
When I’m dating a jerk, all I really want is a sweet guy.
When life feels rocky or scary, I think that peace and calm would satisfy me forever.

But then when I get back to equilibrium, I’m going to want variety. Adventure. Full life immersion!

How do I remember that?

Why do I even want to?

Because I don’t want to make big decisions from these off-balance places, and end up with a really nice guy who I just don’t love.

Because maybe if I could remember that eventually I’ll want adventure and excitement again, then I would be able to enjoy the ride back.

And because sometimes my psyche just needs a jungle gym to climb around on, as my genius business partner would say.

Where is this coming from? I’m not working too much, I’m not dating a jerk…

But I had this giant epiphany,

That I don’t have to settle. Well, that’s actually more of a side-note epiphany.

The giant epiphany is that I was thinking I did have to settle. That when I find something good enough, I’m supposed to settle.

How is this all connected? I’m still working that out.

But I had a really sweet dream last night about my high school sweetheart. I’m not sure exactly how, but ten years later it reminded me of how that kind of love feels.

It reassured me of its existence. In romantic love and work love and life love.

And that if I’m thinking I need to settle for less, I must be off-center. And eventually, I’ll want more.

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Residue

February 23, 2011

photo-10I baked cookies on Saturday morning with a friend. For another friend, a cookie monster friend, who left Sunday for India.

And I took several pictures, trying for one without the tell-tale grease spots. I even took a few with the cookies all wrapped up in pretty cellophane and tied with a bow.

But I gave in and went au naturale.

Because, you know, cookies are made of butter.

(Among other things. Like, for example: peanut buttery, oatmeal, chocolate chip goodness.)

Now I really want to tie this insight up with a bow of its own. (What? Where? Which insight?)

The one that’s still, erm, baking. For now: Butter leaves a mark. A tasty one. So there you go.

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