My daughter and husband are out tonight. I decided to watch something on television that might only appeal to me. I used to occasionally watch, The Gilmore Girls, a mother/daughter drama-comedy with very fast-paced dialogue. They brought the show back after many years for another season. I decided to watch the first episode.

The Gilmore Girls is a smartly written show with appealing lead actors. In other words, it is not a bad show. That’s not the point of this post. The opening scene of the show took place outside, in the town square. The first thing I noticed is that everyone in this town is white. The mother and daughter characters were drinking coffee from paper cups that were obviously empty. I realize that this is a common use of props in television and film. Without fail, I notice that the coffee cup is empty. I can tell by the way they handle it! There’s no weight in the cup! Why can’t they just fill it with water or something?

The all white town, then the empty cup. Next, they pass the sign for the town, “Stars Hollow”. Really? That’s hollow, too? It’s not a bad show but really, the first 10 minutes were too symbolic for me.

Life is full. If I take a drink of life, the weigh of the cup registers in my hand. It has flavors, colors, aromas, and sounds galore.

The fullness of life is a big part of what makes life so amazing.

A hollow cup is easy to understand. It is easy to master. There are no surprises.

But what, precisely is the point?

Yes, I am a bit agitated today but as always,

Peace, friends.

I attended a sitting meditation two weeks ago. The instructor read a poem at the beginning. There was a phrase in the poem that has stuck with me, “bearing reality.” Mindfulness is about bearing reality, bearing the way things are right at this moment. Daily, there are difficult realities, especially at this time. I keep reminding myself that today’s reality is not necessarily tomorrow’s reality.

But this is when it gets even more difficult. The joy of today can give way to heartache tomorrow. The fears of today can give rise to positive action. This is the bearing of possibility, the what could’s. As a psychologist and as someone who practices mindfulness, I know that living in the future is tricky business. It is important to visit future possibilities in order to plan. However, the future, though a good place to visit, is no where to live.

The challenge, in our country, in our world right now is to bear it all. We must bear reality and possibility in balance. As with “baring it all”, “bearing it all” leaves us vulnerable. Right now I am considering my options for formal activism. I have done individual acts but I have not become a member of a group effort. I have been hanging out on the edges observing possible groups. There are a lot of them, by the way. Some of you may belong to one or more of what must be one of hundreds of resistance groups across the country. Since many of these groups cropped up after the election, there is an understandable amount of disorganization and flux. I am a practical person. I don’t want a “feel good” group. I want to be part of a “do good” group. I want to be effective. There’s a gamble no matter what I choose.

Today, I am bearing reality. I am weighing my options. I am bearing possibility. These are scary and exciting times, these times of bearing it all.

Part of my mindfulness practice is to live my life with intention. I have a strong intention right now to be more of a social activist because 1) this is no time in the U.S. to feel helpless and 2) I might be able to offer something positive, however small, to the world. Also, following up on my last post, I have made a point of being more conspicuous. I have been a pretty outspoken person since about 5th grade when I first remember my teacher commenting (not negatively) about my feminism.

I find myself now, however, not just being outspoken about my beliefs but also being outspoken about my behavior and linking it explicitly to my political activism. Honestly, the U.S. presidential election initially left me feeling betrayed by a substantial proportion of my fellow citizens.  When I left my house the morning after the election, I made a concerted effort to count every act of kindness that was directed toward me. It helped me feel safer.

I have continued to do this but I have also tried hard to do positive works. And since I am putting this within the context of social activism, I have let people on social media know about what I am doing and why. I include charitable contributions, phone calls to congress, and small acts of kindness that I do with intention of creating loving social connection. Announcing my actions is my version of carrying a sign in a protest march. What if I decided to protest in the park, by myself, without a sign and without saying anything? How would anyone know what I was trying to do.  I am labeling my action. Others might feel inspired to do similar things. I know that I have felt inspired by others. I also know that when I announce my intentions in public, I am more likely to follow through.

Objective labeling is a big part of observing and being mindful. I have learned the practice of labeling my mental behaviors during meditation. When my thoughts are judgmental, I can label it by saying, “That’s my judgmental mind making judgements”. I have been taught that this is a way to stop the brain puzzles that keep me out of the moment and I have found it to be an effective technique. To be aware of myself makes it easier for me to act with intention and to respond to life instead of simply reacting to it. Sometimes I have to make a sign to myself to understand myself better.

I think of this as a practice of using signs, some turned out to the world and others directed inwardly. Both are extremely useful to me.

What’s your sign?

Peace to you, friends

Between 2012 and 2014, I had 9 surgeries; three of them were to remove cancer and the other six were to patch up the damage. Not all of my surgeries were major, but nonetheless, I spent a lot of time in a hospital gown, with my ass hanging out. I am outgoing in many ways and have been for the most of my life. However, I also spent the first 46 years of my life being fairly modest when it came to revealing my body. For example, I did not wear a swimsuit for years, because I was very self-conscious. Medical visits were another thing. I didn’t mind that so much. But when it comes to surgery, it’s different. My body was on display to a parade of people whom I did not know. Even worse, you know how I am a child psychologist and see patients and their parents for a living? Some parents work at hospitals. My hospital. To see people I knew from the community, in my role as an expert and a leader, with my ass hanging out, could have been mortifying.

Guess what? It was not mortifying. It was merely embarrassing and not gravely so. This is because, I used my mindfulness practices to stay in the present and to try to keep those thoughts that make a stressful circumstance into a mortifying one, at bay. For example, instead of focusing on how embarrassed I was and what must a person from the community think of me, I focused on her kind treatment of me. Further, the more times I was “exposed” both literally and figuratively, the less difficult it became. It was less and less embarrassing.

I feel grateful for the way I was able to cope with this. It may have been quite different earlier in my life. One of the things this coping taught me is an appreciation for my body and far less embarrassment about it. Any embarrassment I have now about wearing a swimsuit in public is really manageable. It doesn’t keep me from enjoying myself. I don’t worry about my appearance when I encounter people in the community on the days I am not in the office. I am comfortable going around town with no make-up and wearing work-out clothes. If it is raining, you will see me in a rain hat with ear flaps. It’s not cute. It’s functional. It keeps me doing the things I love to do, like taking long walks during every season of the year, which also benefit my physical and mental health. Those things are more important than being cute. I am free to be who I am, even the facets that are not cute, without embarrassment.

I have also noticed a significant decrease in my embarrassment, more generally. I used to get so embarrassed when people sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I felt very self-conscious even though on some level, I enjoyed it. Last Thursday was my 51st birthday. It was also Thanksgiving. Seventeen of my loved ones sang, “Happy Birthday” to me. For the first time in my life, the only feelings I had were purely positive. I felt happy and joyful. I thoroughly enjoyed it, smiling the whole time and being able to make eye contact with my well wishers. What a marvelous power to be able to absorb and appreciate love from my friends and family!

I have been thinking a lot lately about the power of acting in spite of embarrassment or fear. We are in times when this power is of utmost importance. Our country and culture are divided. Oppression and hatred were a problem before and now are more so. I was reading an excellent article, Eight Ways to Stand Up to Hate, published by the University of California-Berkeley’s Greater Good Action. One of the recommended strategies is “practice being conspicuous”. For example, walk around the neighborhood in a funny hat. The goal is to learn to tolerate the discomfort of being conspicuous so when we are in the presence of a stranger in need of help due to hateful acts by others, it will be easier to act and not freeze, the latter of which is a natural response for many.

These are times when it is natural for many of us to try to be careful about everything. To worry. To look for problems in everything. To accept only the perfect solution when none exists. “I don’t want to support x cause because it does not solve every problem.” We need lots of efforts and strategies to make this world a better place. Some of our efforts will only help the tiniest bits. Others will fail.

To fail by not trying is not a way I choose to be.

As always, peace to you friends.

As you can imagine, I am still reeling from the U.S. election results.  Like many have written in other blogs, my reaction was much like being told my positive breast cancer biopsy results in May 2012. A major difference is that in the case of my cancer treatment, I felt very well taken care of by competent healthcare providers. I also had relatively clear choices to make.

No, I am not saying that the election was worse than cancer. I actually don’t know.  I don’t know what will happen to my country and the world. I don’t know what my health will be like in the future. We just don’t know the future.

A lot of people has commented that the election “woke people up”. I would say that it woke some people up the way hearing a bomb blast would. Others have their eyes open, their sleeves rolled up, and are following a clear purpose and direction.

I am in neither of those groups. I am, however, trying to follow a process in mindfulness, to be awake but at ease. This means observing pain, emotions, and even thoughts in as much of a grounded way as possible.  I have had moments of being mindful and at ease since the election. That is not most moments. But I continue to practice my meditation to cultivate compassion, to be aware in the moment, and to be as active and constructive as I can be.

It is tremendously difficult but even in those moments of balance, the results have been tremendous. Those moments provide me with hope.

May I be awake. May I be free from suffering. May I be at ease.

My you be awake. May you be free from suffering. May you be at ease.

Peace.

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Last night I had one of those dreams where the setting kept changing. First, I was in a university marching band, practicing on the football field. Then I was sitting at a desk in a classroom. After that, I was attending a reception on a boat. Even though the setting kept changing, there was a story line that ran throughout the dream. I met Terri Gross, of the interviewing radio show, Fresh Air.

I really like Terri Gross’ interviews so I was excited to meet her. The reason we were meeting is that I had written her about my blog. In the classroom, I was telling the other students what I would say to Terri, if I were to meet her. And then she walked onto the boat with a container full of elegantly decorated cupcakes. Terri explained that she had made them and that they were leftover from a wedding she’d attended earlier that day.

“I got your letter”, she said.

“I read your blog,” she said.

“It’s not funny.”

In my dream, the only part of my blog that existed were my earlier days of blogging, when I was going through the acute phase of breast cancer assessment and treatment. I used a lot of humor in my writing then. Terri was telling me (I could read her mind in my dream) that cancer is not funny.

“I thought it was hysterically absurd”, I explained.

The dream ended with her giving me the last of a special flavor of cupcake, which was nice,  especially since I am unable to eat wheat during my waking hours. The fact that it was a broken piece of cupcake with no frosting shows once again that even in my dreams, my fantasies fall short.

Humor was one of my ways of dealing with a very stressful time in my life. I still use it.  I am typically able to laugh at the ridiculous aspects of life. However, I find myself relatively humorless these days. I am frequently thinking, “That’s not funny.”

Over a year ago, Donald Trump announced his candidacy for President of the United States. A number of friends on social media thought this hilarious because it seemed so preposterous. I wrote, “That’s not funny. That’s terrifying.”

Admittedly, I’ve laughed at a few things, mainly extremely well-done Saturday Night Live skits and late night t.v. bits. But otherwise, I mostly avoided memes, because they weren’t funny to me. Many of them were mean spirited. Donald Trump is an extremely sad, insecure, and cruel person. To nurture my own compassion helps me distance myself from the hate vortex he is stirring up.  I have brought him to mind during meditations, wishing him well, wishing him joy, all with the purpose of cultivating compassion and acceptance. The Christian version of this approach is “Love your enemies.”

It is really really hard to do this but I keep trying. Some weeks ago, I saw a video of the Dalai Lama talking about Donald Trump. He made fun of Trump’s hair! I thought to myself, “That’s not funny.” I have thought back to that film and realized that this is really a mark of how stressful this election has been to a lot of people. Even the Dalai Lama took a cheap shot.

Perhaps having judgmental thoughts about the Dalai Lama’s short-comings in compassion is a good signal to me that I am taking life too seriously, so seriously that I am causing myself suffering on top of real pain.

We are all doing our best in difficult and uncertain times. In about two days, there will be more certainty, one way or another.

Peace,

Elizabeth

P.S. If I have another dream with cupcakes, I am taking a whole cupcake complete with elegant frosting. Hear that, dreaming part of my brain?

I haven’t written in awhile. My life has changed. I work, spend time with my family, and worry about our presidential election. Oh yes, there is my non-stop reading about politics. Then I meditate to deal with the anxiety about this election.

Did I mention that I am worried about our presidential election?

Oh yes, I also have my first colonoscopy tomorrow. As I type, I am savoring my last solid food for the next day, homemade yogurt with homemade apple preserves. It is reassuring to know that even at times that I feel that much is out of my control, I can use my own two hands to make delectable food.

I have not been worried about the results of the colonoscopy but now I realize that I will be waiting for the results of this test along with the election. This was, perhaps, poor planning on my part.

One more week of this never ending, unpredictable, terrifying, and bizarre election cycle.

Last week at the U.S. Presidential debate, I saw a women interrupted 51 times in 90 minutes by one man. I hate being interrupted. Actually, some interruptions are fun, the kind that you exchange with a friend with whom you share a great deal of empathy and can finish eachother’s sentences. Those interruptions show the strength of connection and intensify it. The interruptions I hate are the ones that change the subject, argue, and contradict. Repeated interruptions are like a salvo of little assaults that compromise one’s ability to share thoughts and feelings.  Interruptions are jarring and for me, they take me away from myself, at least where I was and where I wanted to go.

For many breast cancer patients in the U.S., October, “Breast Cancer Awareness Month” is an unwelcome interruption. Many people are active in advocacy for breast cancer research as well as for increasing access to quality healthcare. These are critically important concerns. Then the pink tsunami comes in and interrupts with new messages, one of using a disease as a marketing tactic and wrapping it in “awareness” a construct, which is vague and inoffensive. For those of us who do think about the word, awareness, thinking, is not enough. Awareness solves nothing once everyone is made aware and nothing else happens.

Breast cancer itself, was a major life interruption. I was 46, going about my middle-aged life assuming that my only health issues were that I was overweight and not exercising enough. Bam! Cancer! There were two years of starts and stops. Cancer treatment brings many interruptions.

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know that I strive for integrity in my life, the sense that the parts of my life contribute to my whole self, in a way that makes sense. This contributes to a sense of balance. There is a teaching in mindfulness that the past, present, and future are all part of one’s being.

I continue to accept cancer as part of my past, my present, and my future. Even if I never have a recurrence, the knowledge of the possibility is still there.  Cancer is part of me but not all of me.

Watching the debate reminded me that the best way to handle an interruption is to keep going instead of just stopping and let the interruption take over.

Life interrupts, keep moving. You may need to make course corrections but you are still going forward.

Today is International Peace Day. I think a lot about peace and I try hard to cultivate it within myself as well as to be a peaceful participant in the world around me. The degree of success varies but it is rare that a day goes by without my being mindful of my intent.

I have not written as frequently as in the past, in part, because my mind is fragmented. My emotions are fragmented. The world is not making sense. There are many things going on but they are all getting wrapped up literally and metaphorically in our U.S. Presidential election. It is white male heterosexual privilege against everyone else. We have a major presidential candidate with no experience who is viable just because he is white, heterosexual, powerful, and more importantly, an explicit spewer of hate and selfishness. When he cheats, he is savvy. His exploitation of people and resources makes sense because he is the right sex, orientation, and color to dominate others.

Meanwhile, we have a very competent woman running for president with decades of experience who manages to get things done despite the fact that she’s been held to a level of scrutiny that arguably no other candidate has ever faced. Her crime? She’s made mistakes. Women are not allowed to make mistakes. They are allowed to be perfect mothers or to serve men.

Meanwhile, African American people, some children, are being murdered by police. No, this is not new. What is relatively new is that the incidents are now filmed and even when they can be viewed, many white people still come up with reasons why the person, often unarmed, sometimes with their hands-up, deserved to die.

Meanwhile, an African American football player decides to stop standing for the National Anthem at football games. There is strong backlash against this kind of “disrespect” to our country as well as to our military. This is a peaceful protest by a man who belongs to a race that has been owned, systematically oppressed, and clearly shown on video, hunted. It is 2016. This is still happening. We have a major presidential candidate who is whipping up hatred for every “otherized” person. People, what are YOUR PRIORITIES? Respecting the flag or not killing people?

Meanwhile, nearly half of the homeless youth in the U.S. are LGBT. LGBT youth, more generally, are subject to a high incidence of sexual and physical assault, drug/alcohol use, and suicidality. This is all because we believe that not being straight or cisgender somehow threatens our safety.

Meanwhile, immigrants, potential immigrants, or anyone who resembles an immigrant from a non-European country, are being treated like terrorists, despite research evidence pointing to the opposite. Immigrants, by and large, are hard-working people. Their children, on average, engage in significantly less crime and drug use than U.S. born white youth.

Meanwhile, I was at home yesterday when my husband received a text from a friend, who referred to him as “a girl” as a joke. My tolerance for this kind of sexism is low. I told him that it was a misogynist joke. He disagreed and his feelings were hurt. Both men are good and decent men but I was taken aback that my husband defended the joke and acted like I was overreacting. My reaction may have been stronger than usual but that is only because it is exhausting and unhealthy to be in a constant stage of outrage over the insidious and outright violent oppression in our country and world.

I know that I can best advocate for peace, when I have more myself. That does not mean not being angry, afraid, or in grief for some very hateful forces in our world. But it does mean balancing them with the good that exists around me.

In about an hour I am going to the Frye Museum in Seattle where there is a sitting meditation every Wednesday. That will help as will meeting my friend, Nancy, there.

I wish you all peace in your hearts.

 

Today is my daughter, Zoey’s 18th birthday. She is a legal adult and she’s done a lot of growing over the years, especially during the very first ones and the most recent ones. My cousin, Portia, once described Zoey as a “singular sensation”. That is an apt description. Zoey is a brilliant, unique, and fiercely talented young woman.

It is difficult to see a child choose a path different from the one followed by my husband and me. We were also creative, smart, and passionate. But we were also careful and diligent in pursuing education and sensible careers. It worked out extremely well for us.

The difficulty for me is not one of wanting my daughter to be just like me or for me to live vicariously through her experience. For me it is difficult because she has taken a path that is unknown to me and what I know of it is that it can be fairly inconsistent.

Instead of worrying about her future, I am going to reflect on what I know about her today.

She is physically healthy.

She is mentally strong.

She has wonderful friends and family.

She is an amazing singer.

She has an amazing mind.

She is an independent thinker.

She has goals and a plan to obtain them.

She is kind and fair.

She is passionate about justice.

She is creative.

She is growing in common sense.

She is incredibly funny.

She loves her family.

She loves her friends.

She opens birthday presents in the hot tub.

 

Happy Birthday, Zoey!

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Lindbergh High School Reunion '82, '83, '84, '85

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George Lakoff

George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. His newest book "The Neural Mind" is now available.

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