by susantara | May 25, 2022 | Traveling |
It took a few days of catching up on sleep, unpacking, and tending to what needed immediate attention, but I finally landed back home after my first trip to the Outer Banks, North Carolina.
Every morning while walking on the beach, I nearly leapt out of my skin because I was so delighted to be there. And yet, I came very close to cancelling the trip—which, in hindsight, seems ludicrous.
In the days preceding the trip, I went kayaking, hoping “river therapy” would help me to discern and follow what really felt like yes instead of the loudest voices clamoring for attention. Lots of fear and heavy, emotional stuff was being dredged up, and it felt like I was inside a pressure cooker. I attributed much of it to eclipse energy and had to use nearly every tool in my toolbox to deal with it. To borrow a term from Eckhart Tolle, my emotional pain body had become activated and was having a feast!
I took mindful breathing breaks every 20 minutes throughout the day and practiced mindfulness meditation both on and off the cushion. Listened to sleep stories on the Calm app and did guided yoga nidra meditations to get to sleep and return to sleep every night. I did RAIN meditation, self-Reiki, and listened to lots of sound baths. Got outside and exercised.
Part of the problem was the energy at home. I wasn’t sure everyone would be okay if I went. If a volcano erupted while I was away, getting back home wouldn’t be easy. The nearest airport was two hours away, and there were no non-stop flights. And what if I got Covid during my travels? Then what? I didn’t want to be on a plane exposing others.
If you put everything together, the predominant emotional flavors were fear and powerlessness: energies I did not want in the driver’s seat. I longed to vacation with Kim and Jodi, two of my very dearest friends. We live in different states, and it would be the first time the three of us would be together since Jodi’s wedding at least 30 years ago. I wanted to say yes to that.
A Sign on the River
Less than 24 hours before my flight was scheduled to take off, I went on the river and asked for some kind of sign. I hoped the more-than-human world would reveal something relevant and insightful.
I watched two ducks fly away from a spot up ahead where a group of ducks were gathered. Keeping a respectful distance, I paddled by. Once I had passed the ducks, I felt compelled to turn around and take a picture. There was something peculiar about those ducks.
Again, I kept a respectful distance and snapped a picture. After I got past them, I looked at the image on my phone screen. The sun was very bright, and the image was small, but I enlarged it enough to notice one of the ducks was caught in netting. The others were gathered around, silent.
I felt tremendous empathy and started crying. Wondering if I or anyone else could do something to help, I posted the picture in a community group on social media. Someone expressed caring. Another person gave me a phone number for wildlife conservation.
Then someone pointed out that the ducks were plastic. Decoys. Which I couldn’t tell from the distance I kept from them or from the tiny picture on my phone screen. They must have floated down the river still partially in their original packaging and gotten caught on the branches of a fallen tree.
I was so caught up in the intense, raw emotions moving through me regarding family dynamics and my upcoming trip that I couldn’t see clearly. I was crying over something that wasn’t even real. A decoy.
Then I realized that was the answer I sought. The picture I took of the decoy ducks was my image of the day, which was like pulling an oracle card from the deck of the universe. A duck decoy is used to lure ducks into danger, to trick or confuse. So perhaps the guidance was not to put so much faith in my emotions for now. Don’t let them guide me.
I got sucked in emotionally by a lure! My suffering came from not being able to see clearly and believing in an illusion that wasn’t real. Being so emotionally raw made me more vulnerable and impressionable.
Change of Heart
Ten hours before my 6 AM flight would depart, I still was almost certain I wouldn’t go. I had talked with both of my friends, and they said they hoped to see me but would support whatever I decided. Kim already had stopped at the grocery store to stock up on frozen vegetarian meals for me.
When my son found me in the living room not getting ready for my trip, he gave me an eleventh hour pep talk. He assured me everything would be fine at home and painted a picture of me enjoying the company of dear friends. Watching the moon rise on the beach. Walking on the beach. And on and on. As he spoke, I imagined myself there and resumed the packing effort I had abandoned the previous day. I had to wake up at 2:30 AM to leave for the airport by 3:00, and he would drive me.
Before going to bed (a few hours before I had to get up), I felt confident everyone would be okay at home. I longed to be with my friends, at the ocean, when the moon was full. To say yes to the beautiful, generous invitation from Kim and her husband. Mary Oliver’s poem “The Journey” had come to mind more than once that day.
I dreaded the whole airport scene, the disruption of my sleep schedule, and all of the driving involved. I hoped people wouldn’t be rude to one another based on whether or not they were wearing a mask. The brain’s negativity bias kept my expectations for civility low.
However, everyone was really chill. And kind and friendly. There were zero issues at the airports or on any of my flights. Nobody displayed an attitude. Some people wore masks, and some didn’t. And it was okay. On one of my flights, someone noticed a tiny earbud on the floor next to the aisle, and people were determined to find the person who had dropped it. Once that person was found, she was so grateful and said she’d been looking everywhere for it. There were smiles and sighs of relief when the earbud was returned to its owner. My airport and flight experiences raised my faith in humanity a notch. I sat across the aisle from people who wanted to help and set in motion a wave of caring.
Neuropsychologist, Rick Hanson, explains our brain’s negativity bias is like velcro for the “bad” and threatening and like teflon for the “good”. It’s a brain mechanism that helped to keep our ancient ancestors safe from the very real threat of being eaten by predators. However, it doesn’t serve so well now. World news can leave us feeling the world is a very dangerous place, and we must always be on-guard. Sometimes dangerous situations and people do make their way into our orbit. However, it’s useful to remember and experience that there are many kind and helpful people in the world, despite the newsworthy anomalies. The vast majority of flights won’t be marred by argumentative people and outbursts, although the outbursts draw media attention.
Worth It
Experiencing positive energy en route corrected some of my exaggerated narratives about “people these days”. But of course there was much, much more that made the trip worthwhile.
Waking up at 2:30 AM was worth it. (You just do it.) Spending time with Kim and her family and Jodi and her husband was worth it a hundred times over. Being at the ocean is always worth it. So was getting a change of scenery and a little distance from the drama back home. Great weather every day was the icing on the cake.
When Kim and her husband met me at the airport, she told me she knew all along I’d end up coming.
I stood on the beach that first evening and photographed the eclipse moon rising over the ocean at high tide. Then I walked about 30 steps back to the beach house and sat on the top floor with Kim, looking out at the moon rising and shining a path of light on the water. It was exactly as my son had described, and I felt so grateful to be there.
Every morning, my alarm was set for 5:40 so I could witness and photograph the sunrise. Then I took a long walk on the endless beach. (One morning, I walked more than 18,000 steps to a wild horse beach!) My favorite time to be on any beach is at sunrise. I’m much more of an early morning air beach-walker than a hot sun, mid-day beach-sitter. However, I did walk and sit on the beach with Kim and Jodi in the afternoon with a very happy heart.
The timing was perfect. A week prior, a huge storm blew through the Outer Banks and wreaked havoc (similar to the storm that kicked up at home, it now occurs to me). The storm passed, and it was safe to travel. We were there just before the official beginning of summer tourist season, when it was still relatively quiet and uncrowded.
My daily gratitudes included:
- Listening to the rhythm of the waves
- Breathing in the ocean air
- Spending time with Jodi and Kim
- Being able to work remotely
- Ocean sunrises and the cooler, morning air
- Being fascinated by the various forms of sea life that washed up on the beach
- Only having to walk about 20 steps from the door of my bedroom suite to the beach
- Ideal weather.
It was a deeply nourishing experience, on many levels. Stretching out of my comfort zone and traveling for the first time since Covid began felt liberating. Vacationing with girlfriends was a wonderful experience I hope to repeat. Beach therapy was greatly appreciated and restorative.
On Calm, there is a sleep story, The Beauty of the Outer Banks, written by Candace Rardon. I’ve listened to it—or rather, tried to listen to it—at least a few dozen times but always fall asleep at some point. Out of curiosity one morning after returning home, I skipped ahead to see how it ends.
“In such a place as this, where the natural world quietly undergoes such perpetual change, you can find the peace to weather the seasons of your own life. To surrender to the winds, to be shaped by the tides, and to let every invisible current carry you to new and undiscovered lands.”
This (plus being with friends) sums up what I experienced at the Outer Banks. I returned home feeling different than before I left. More adventurous and liberated from fear. Refreshed. Renewed. The decision to go on the trip fed my strong self. I’m grateful for the friends I spent time with there and for the friends who encouraged me to go and experience a place they knew I would love once the storms subsided.
Simply Return
I’m so glad I said yes to my heart’s expansive, innermost desire instead of the constricting, convincing fears that would keep me small. The travel was fine. People were pleasant. Our house is still standing, and the energy has improved. Once again, I learned not to put blind faith in worry, anxiety, and fear or to expect the worst from people. In this moment, all is well. I am fine.
And in this moment, too.
It’s okay if you lose the present moment—if you get caught up in the real or perceived fear and drama of the human world. Simply find it again. When you find it, you’ll be able to see more clearly and respond with greater wisdom to whatever storms arise.
If I ever try to convince myself that the process of traveling is too much of a hassle to justify going somewhere spectacular to be with people who mean a lot to my heart, please remind me not to believe those self-limiting thoughts. Sure, take some time to acknowledge and process whatever emotions are coming up. But don’t be derailed by the pain-body and its flying-monkey thoughts! Spending time with people and in places that resource our lives helps us to put better energy into the world. Anything we can do to channel more light and goodness into the world is absolutely worthwhile.
To see some of the nature videos I made while vacationing in the Outer Banks, check out my Vimeo channel.
Here are some of my photos from the trip:
All of these images are available for purchase, and some will be included in my Saratoga Arts photography exhibition, Seaside, running from June 28-July 28, 2022 at the Clifton Park-Halfmoon Public Library upstairs gallery.
© 2022 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. You are welcome to share this post or excerpts of it as long as you give proper credit to Susan Meyer and SusanTaraMeyer.com. Susan Meyer is a photographer, writer, and spiritual teacher who lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Sep 19, 2019 | Spiritual Journey |
My daughter and three-year-old granddaughter, Ava, slept over last night. This morning before I left for work, Ava asked to see my jewelry box. She wanted to line up all my earrings and look at them, which is one of the rituals she does every time she comes over. As she does that, we sit together on the floor and talk. We have some of our best conversations while she explores my jewelry.
Today’s conversation was about the small statue I have on my dresser of Tara, the female buddha of compassion in Tibetan Buddhism. Ava thought it was a doll and wanted me to take it down so she could play with it. I told her it’s not a toy and explained in broad, three-year-old terms, the significance of Tara. I told her that when you are scared, sad, or lonely, you can call on Tara, and she will help you because she doesn’t want you to suffer. She’s like a mother who loves you and wants to help you. But you won’t see her because she is invisible.
“Is she like a fairy?”
“Yes, she is kind of like a fairy,” I agreed.
She liked that idea and exclaimed, “Tara! Help!”
After she put all my earrings back in their spaces, she noticed something that I explained had to do with the basement. She became curious about the basement and wanted to see it. I told her I don’t like to go in the basement, and she asked why. I replied matter-of-factly, “Because it’s kind of creepy down there. I just don’t like it.”
Ava’s favorite holiday is Halloween, and she likes spooky things. She beseeched me to carry her to the door so she could see the basement.
I love this child. Her sweet, little face can get me to do almost anything. So when I realized she wasn’t letting this go, I carried her to the basement door, which was partially obscured by several jackets hanging on hooks. Behind the jackets were two vacuum cleaners I had to move out of the way before unlatching the lock, turning on the light, and opening the creaky, old door.
In other words, there were some barriers in place to conceal the door and make it hard to open (kind of like at the end of the movie, Sixth Sense). As if the basement didn’t even exist. Even though it’s there below almost the entire house.
The light only illuminated a portion of the stairs. There was another light switch toward the bottom, but I didn’t want to walk down the steep, narrow stairs with Ava in my arms to turn it on.
She pointed to a large cobweb just inside the door and asked why it’s there.
“Because we almost never go in the basement.”
“Are there spiders in the basement?” she asked cautiously. Apparently, she’s not a fan of spiders, so I mentioned a couple of their finer attributes.
Then she wanted to know why I don’t want to go in the basement. What’s down there? Well, not much more than a water heater and a heating oil tank and sometimes some mice and mousetraps. I didn’t mention the mousetraps.
I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight, and shined the light down the stairs, revealing the 200-year-old stone wall and cement floor. Silently, we regarded the emptiness. Safe in my arms, she again asked why I’m afraid to go in the basement.
Good question.
“Actually…I don’t know,” I said while still shining the flashlight around. “It’s dark. But when we turn on the light, there’s nothing down there that’s scary. It’s just a big, empty space. It’s not so bad.”
Welcome to my metaphor of the day.
It makes me think of all the avoiding we do because we convince ourselves something is scary and off-limits. But when we open that door and shine a light, it’s not so bad. It’s just a lot of darkness and stories we tell ourselves about it. Familiar stories that keep us afraid of the dark, like scary stories children are told to keep them away from danger. The original intent was to keep us safe, but the story doesn’t serve a useful purpose now that we’re all grown up. If only we have the courage or determination to open the door and turn on the light, we can see the scary places differently, from a more empowered and enlightened perspective.
The basement is the part of the house you don’t see. It’s the foundation that was laid before the rest of the house was built and remains underneath it all. In clutter coaching, feng shui, and dream work, the basement represents the subconscious: stuff that is hidden or repressed, issues you’ve been carrying around for a long time, often from childhood. Your deepest, darkest thoughts, feelings, and memories. It’s where you store things from the past and things you don’t want to deal with. Sometimes the idea of having to clean out the basement because of all the stuff stored there prevents people from moving to a new home and keeps them stuck where they are even when they’d like to move on.
For me, it was perfect timing. Yesterday afternoon, I had a conversation with my spiritual director about boundaries and how essential it is to communicate cleanly and clearly. Why is it so hard to have healthy, self-preserving boundaries and to be up front with people? To say no and not feel obligated to provide acceptable explanations. Why do I decide it’s easier just to keep quiet, appease, and maintain a safe distance … walking on eggshells? What’s this lifelong, people-pleasing pattern about?
Fear. Fear of people’s emotional volatility and fragility. Fear of rejection. Lots of fear. Where did the fear come from? What’s the worst that could happen? And so what?
Although I couldn’t put my finger on it during our conversation, I woke up from a dream this morning with crystal clarity about where it came from. It was childhood stuff. Something that felt scary and powerless when I was a child and set me up with a limiting pattern of relating to others. Like the blueprint beneath it all.
At last, I understood the core wound behind my boundary issues. It was like opening the door to the scary basement and facing it…and realizing it’s not so bad. Because I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult with greater resources and options. As an adult, I can give my inner child what she didn’t get all those years ago and set myself free from the limiting beliefs and behavioral patterns put in place to make the best of a situation I had no control of. I can send love and light to everyone involved and fill those dark places with light. This is how we heal and grow into our wholeness.
And less than an hour later, there I was standing at the top of the stairs peering into the basement with a young girl in my arms, literally shining a light on it all. Feeling I reclaimed some of my power.
Thank you, Tara.
© 2019 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, Reiki practitioner, and mindfulness meditation teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Feb 1, 2019 | Decluttering & Simplicity |
Two years ago today, I began my great decluttering journey. At that time, I was at a major crossroads. I’d recently resigned from my teaching career and didn’t have a clear vision of what was next. My youngest child was a freshman away at college. Both of my parents had passed away, and we’d just closed on their house, which they’d lived in for 32 years. I’d also recently become a grandmother and was about to turn 50.
I was in uncharted territory.
After putting so much effort into assisting my parents and clearing out their house, my own house was a mess. At the same time, I was grieving the loss of my parents and adjusting to being an empty nester. Though I wasn’t clear about what I was moving toward, I sensed the keys to moving forward were buried under all the clutter in my home. All the stuff that felt more relevant to my past than to my future and took up space in my home.
Think of your home as a giant vision board. What does the stuff you give space to in your home say about what’s most important to you? What intentions for your life do the contents of your home proclaim? What unconscious beliefs do they reveal?
Decluttering my home is a process I’ve written about previously. But my decluttering journey didn’t end there. After clutter-clearing my house, I decluttered my car, garage, computer, website, blog, and photo library. It felt amazing!
At this point, the only area I need to finish decluttering is my rented storage unit that houses my parents’ belongings and ancestral artifacts that I needed more time to process. Last year, I made significant progress by sorting through at least 25 boxes of photographs, papers, and mementos and distributing the “keepers” to living family members. I’m waiting for warmer weather to complete the job and either downsize or eliminate the storage unit.
I began my clutter-clearing pilgrimage with Marie Kondo’s book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, as my guide. There were some categories (such as books and papers) for which Kondo’s advice didn’t resonate, so I learned about other methods and eventually became a Certified Clutter Coach in Denise Linn’s method.
After two years of decluttering my own stuff and assisting others on their clutter-clearing journeys, I’ve developed an approach that incorporates guided inner journeys, feng shui, mindfulness, Reiki, photography, writing, vision boards, and creating letting-go rituals that honor sentimental items and the relationships they represent. I’m grateful for all these tools I can use with clients when it feels right. They make the process deeper and more enduring.
With a holistic and integrated approach like this, the clutter does not return. It’s removed, roots and all, and a whole lot of inner clearing and healing takes place through the process. It’s not just about the stuff. Clutter-clearing can be an opportunity for deep transformation and growth on many levels.
The Basics
First, there’s the most obvious level that encompasses the physical living space and how it feels. I’ve written extensively about this previously and will not go into detail about it here because it’s just the tip of the iceberg. However, it’s what most folks set their sights on when they decide to declutter.
So, briefly…
For most of my adult life, I didn’t bother to make my bed. However, since clutter-clearing my home, I’ve made my bed first thing every morning without missing a day. It’s not a chore. Instead, it’s the first gift I give myself every morning and uplifts my energy whenever I walk into the room. In addition, there are no junk drawers or piles of clutter in my home. Since every object has a dedicated spot now, I spend less time looking for things. Everything in my home either serves a purpose or brings me joy. The energy in my home feels lighter and brighter. Entering my home is an uplifting, peaceful experience. It truly is my sanctuary.
All that is a big, ginormous deal that makes the work of decluttering worth it. But there’s more! Much more. For the remainder of this article, I will describe the five greatest benefits I’ve received from clutter-clearing, to illustrate how decluttering can improve your quality of life, beyond how your home looks and feels.
#1: More Joy
Throughout the decluttering process, you go through your belongings one at a time and notice how they affect your energy. Marie Kondo asks: Does it spark joy? Similarly, Denise Linn’s guiding question is: Energy up, energy down, or energy neutral? Naturally, you get lots of practice tuning in to joy and noticing when it’s present and absent – and being mindful of the energy in your body, in general.
As a result, I have a much greater awareness of how joy feels and what sparks it. I’m more inclined to take a moment to check in and notice where my energy’s at and to remove from my environment whatever disturbs my peace of mind. I gravitate toward what brings me joy and feels like an unequivocal yes.
Because joy matters. It’s become more conscious and accessible. A way of life. I now choose joy instead of suffering and make decisions based on joy rather than on fear. (I always can feel the difference.) This includes decisions about how to reframe things so I can see them in a more positive light and avoid unnecessary suffering.
Does it spark joy? is much more than a meme. With practice, it is a major game-changer! My joy setpoint is higher than it used to be, and this is a Very Good Thing.
#2: More Confident Decision-Making
I used to be more passive about making decisions, deferring to others and sometimes even waiting until decisions were made for me, by default. I relied greatly on the opinions of others and allowed them to call the shots about decisions relevant to my life. I didn’t trust my own judgment and sought validation.
Decluttering changed all that! It helped me to tune in to what feels right for me. After noticing how objects affected my energy, the next step was to decide whether to keep, repair, donate, give away, sell, or discard each item. This decision was repeated at least a thousand times during the process and strengthened my decision-making muscles, like doing reps at the gym.
As a result, I’ve made a habit of going inward to decide what to do and enjoy how it feels to take charge of my life. I depend much less on others to help me make decisions. Now I’m more assertive and confident about decision-making and feel much more empowered than I used to.
Tuning in to how it feels in my body and what feels right extends to all areas of life. Being cued in to how things, people, and situations affect my energy allows me to trust my inner wisdom and move in the direction of what feels right – and away from what doesn’t.
And even more than that, I’m communicating what I want, like, and prefer to others rather than simply accepting whatever they do or say and considering “going with the flow” to be a virtue (which it is, within reason). The new me teaches others how I want to be treated instead of passively accepting everyone else’s terms.
All this from decluttering? You betcha. Positive changes can set in motion a surprising ripple effect!
#3: More Proactive
On the most basic level, I don’t let things like dishes and laundry sit around anymore. I take care of them right away. When I put a dishwasher load going at night, I put everything away first thing in the morning so no dirty dishes will accumulate in the sink or on counters. It’s part of my morning routine and is an opportunity to practice gratitude for having dishes and food and a home in which to store it all.
In addition, I order parts for broken appliances, take action swiftly, and don’t allow things to sit around. I pick up tiny objects from the floor and take out the broom rather than leave it for later. I attend to clutter right away because I know how good it feels to be clutter-free, and how things can build up over time and feel overwhelming. Taking a moment now saves a lot of moments later.
Scrubbing the toilet was the worst part of my decluttering experience because our well water has a high mineral content that builds up quickly and stubbornly. It had become really bad, to the point that I just threw in the towel and hoped visitors wouldn’t ask to use the bathroom. When your parents are dying and need your help, such things can happen on the home front.
As I scrubbed the toilet, I vowed I would never, ever let it get that bad again, or even close. I’d be on top of it from now on and scrub away the first signs of mineral stains. It was a great metaphor for some other things (mostly non-things) I’d let slide in my life, and the vow expanded into a promise to myself to be more on the ball in general. Which I have been.
#4: Less Wanting
This month, I will begin a two-year mindfulness meditation teacher certification program that includes a lot of assigned reading. In the past, I’ve had a wall of books. If I’ve ever collected anything, it was books, most of which were acquired inexpensively secondhand. I love books! However, I donated more than half my library during decluttering and only have a few shelves of books (and a few crates of children’s books) remaining that are especially near and dear to my heart.
I can afford to buy the books for the mindfulness program. However, I don’t have much interest in owning more books or more anything. I’m deeply interested in the content of the books for the program and plan to take good notes. Maybe once I get a ways into some of the books, I’ll want to own them. However, I’m starting off borrowing them from the library rather than ordering them on Amazon just because they’re on the required reading list.
The motivation is not so much to save money as it is to save space. I think very carefully about bringing anything new into my home – including books – because I love uncluttered living and want to keep it that way. If anything, I’d like to declutter even more, which is why I do an annual mini-declutter.
#5: More Interpersonal Resolution
My clutter-clearing journey involved going through not only my own photos and personal items, but also all my parents’ and ancestors’ photos, papers, and mementos. That really put things into perspective. It gave me a full lifetime view of each person, which resulted in greater understanding, appreciation, and compassion.
In my twenties, I attended a weekend intensive to kick off a transpersonal psychology certificate program. We sat in chairs in a big circle and started by introducing ourselves. When it was one participant’s turn, she said that she was looking around at everyone in the circle and thought to herself: If only I knew their stories, I would love them. I’ve carried that thought with me ever since.
Decluttering my parents’ and ancestors’ belongings helped me to get to know them better and learn their stories. It made me love and appreciate them more. The mere act of holding someone’s birth certificate in one hand and their death certificate in the other fosters love and compassion. Going through the family artifacts made me feel closer to my parents and grandparents. This would not have happened if I’d left the boxes unexamined.
Going through the boxes of photos and papers generated insights about family relationships and brought up unresolved feelings. I photographed many of the artifacts and journaled about my insights and feelings as they arose by dictating them directly into my phone. Photographing sentimental items and writing about the stories they tell and the feelings they bring up takes the decluttering process even deeper into forgiveness, healing, and the kind of personal transformation that happens when you finally let go of your grudges and the limiting beliefs that produced them.
Seeing pictures of my parents and ancestors throughout their entire life, and reading correspondence from periods of their life I didn’t know much or anything about, helped me to see them as whole human beings rather than as Parents who were always 30 years older than me. I could see them outside of our parent-child roles and within the context of the times in which they lived. Having a clearer picture of that context allowed me to understand that their attitudes and values were shaped by the times in which they lived, and I didn’t need to take things so personally.
The weight of family relationships that I’ve carried around all my life has been lifted. The stories I held about them have become more universal and less personal. So much energy has been freed up. All because I spent time with my parents’ and ancestors’ stuff and decided what to keep, what to let go of, and what to (sometimes literally) reframe.
The Bottom Line
It all comes down to this: Decluttering has helped me to know who I am and what I want, and who I’m not and what I don’t want. Such clarity makes real transformation possible. Transformation that isn’t dependent on the opinions or influence of others because letting go of that is also part of the process. As you become aware of how everything in your environment affects your energy, you learn to make use of a valuable feedback loop that draws you closer to your true self.
That is the greatest joy and success I know of.
But don’t just take my word for it. Do some decluttering, and see for yourself!
Aaand if you’d like assistance with your clutter-clearing journey, I provide a continuum of education and coaching services, including a free Facebook page, workshops/presentations, group coaching, and one-on-one coaching.
© 2019 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, Reiki practitioner, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Jan 19, 2019 | Death, Dying, & Birth, Spiritual Journey |
“What does it mean, say the words, that the earth is so beautiful? And what shall I do about it? What is the gift that I should bring to the world? What is the life that I should live?”
-Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings (2005)
This week, my favorite living writer died. So did a high school classmate.
Mary Oliver was 83. Matt Riker was 51. His life was snuffed out by the same illness that took my mom from us nearly five years ago. In November, he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Later that month, he visited Dana-Farber and learned his illness was incurable.
According to an article in a local newspaper, several years ago, Matt was very unhappy with the way he was living his life. He decided to turn things around and devoted his life to helping others. The more he helped, the better he felt. On a similar note, two years ago when he was borderline diabetic, he took up running, lost a lot of weight, and got into really good shape.
The point being: When he realized he wasn’t living the life he wanted to live, he found the determination and courage to make changes and turn things around. He even went back to school and received his bachelor’s degree last year. By the time he was diagnosed with advanced stage cancer, he felt at peace with his life and continued to focus on helping others because that’s who he had become.
Matt’s story is a real wake-up call. His transformation is inspiring. When you don’t like the story you’re living, you can do something different and change it.
The weekend before he passed away, there was a celebration in his honor. What a gift to have a celebration of life before someone passes away! It was an opportunity for everyone to say goodbye (even without saying it) and thank-you for happy memories and a life well lived.
I hadn’t seen Matt since high school. After he learned the nature of his illness, I reached out to him, and we shared a memory of being in a choral group together back in high school. I had to drive my son to Albany when the celebration was taking place and made it just in time. Matt looked in my eyes, said my name, gave me a hug, and a few moments later, two companions were on either side of him helping him make his way out of the building so he could rest.
After he left the celebration, a classmate who had gone running with Matt in the fall expressed disbelief. Such rapid physical decline is hard to wrap your head around. When I saw him at the celebration, he appeared as my mother did a week or two before she passed away. I did not expect him to make it to the end of the month. He only made it a week.
When an acquaintance your age or younger passes away, it wakes you up. It might inspire you to appreciate your life and your loved ones more. You might step back, take stock, and consider what’s most important and whether you are living your life in harmony with that.
I realized this week that I’ve gotten a little off-course and lost sight of what’s most important. I’ve been too busy and haven’t been spending as much time in nature as I need to. Haven’t had much time for those who mean the most to me. My heart yearns for more nature connection, more writing, more photography, and more quality time with loved ones. These activities feed my soul. They are my true Work.
What is the gift that I should bring to the world? What is the life that I should live? The answers to these inquiries are within each of us, in our heart center. Our heart is a compass that keeps us on course if we allow it to guide us. Its wisdom helps us to gauge how closely our life is aligned with our true Dharma. Then we can make some course adjustments if need be.
I believe that however long or short our lifetime is, it’s exactly as it should be. Even when death seems to come too soon or too suddenly, there are no accidents. If it’s your time, the universe will make sure you are in the right place. In other words, beyond the personal, senseless tragedy of loss, there is another level on which all is well. These dense bodies we live in only allow us to see a portion of the picture.
The thing is, we don’t know when our time will come. There are things I still want to accomplish, and I’ll bet the same is true for you. Things I don’t want to leave undone. When a friend of mine published her first book, she exclaimed, “I can die now!” That’s what I’m talking about: Don’t die with your song/book/etc. still within you.
Matt’s death awakened everyone his life touched. It inspired me to think about how I spend my time and why, and to take inventory of the Big Picture, just like he did several years ago.
Mary Oliver passed away four days after Matt, on Thursday.
Thursday morning, I HAD to sit on the riverbank (despite the cold weather) as the sun rose and listen to the music of the delicate plates of ice sailing down the river and colliding with piles of other shards. It’s one of my very favorite songs.
It’s no wonder I couldn’t resist the call to be in nature, astonished and filled with appreciation for the visual poetry surrounding me, though I wasn’t aware yet of the significance of the day. All I knew at the time was that it felt like the first real breath I had taken all week, and I could barely feel the cold because I was doing something that set my soul on fire.
When I heard the news that evening, it all made sense: Her soul was passing through. I wonder what she would have scribbled in her notebook about that morning’s frozen splendor on the Hudson.
Spending time on the river’s edge that morning and learning about the two deaths only a few days apart served the same purpose: They awakened me from the trance of routine and reminded me of what’s most important and what I need to make time for. What I did make time for until a few months ago when I took on another part-time job. (And next month, I will add yet another thing to my plate when I start a two-year mindfulness meditation teacher certification program, which I have yearned to do for years.)
I realized I need to spend more time steeped in gratitude on the water’s edge or elsewhere in nature with my camera in hand and my senses wide open. More time listening to what drifts through the air and bubbles up from within, and taking dictation. More time developing the services I’m trained for and feel passionate about. The Universe has delivered some very clear and consistent messages about moving forward with that NOW, not later. If not now, when?
I had to admit to myself that I’m doing too much. My schedule is too full. Even though I enjoy and appreciate everything I’m doing, something’s gotta give within the continuum that spans from enjoyment to the deeper pull that sets my soul on fire.
Those whose deaths jolt us out of the trance of daily life remind us to make time during our “one wild and precious life” for what is most essential. To not look beyond our own heart to discern what that is.
To get to Work.
© 2019 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, Reiki practitioner, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Jan 1, 2019 | Mindfulness, Self-Care Practices |
Happy New Year!
Scrolling through my social media feed last night, I got the distinct impression that 2018 was a very difficult year for many in my network. I know the feeling (been there, done that!), although 2018 was quite the opposite for me. As I drove home from work last night, it occurred to me that 2018 might have been the best year of my life thus far. I took a mental inventory of every year of my adult life and affirmed that it was. My intention for the New Year is to keep that positive momentum going, which is quite different from all the years I was grateful for the fresh, new beginning the New Year offered.
If 2018 was a real dud (or worse) for you, then I wish you a much better 2019.
New Year, New Material
I woke up this morning from a dream that revealed a couple of opportunities for growth this year. I also experienced some feelings that surprised me last night and showed me there’s opportunity for growth there, too. Then there’s my very conscious intention to feel more physically fit and comfortable in my body. In other words, I have some material to work with – which is always the case. And that is actually quite exciting.
And Old Material, Too
Feeling self-conscious about my body is really, really old stuff that has kept me from engaging more with the world. It even kept me from agreeing to be my sister’s matron of honor when she got married. (Yeah, it was that bad.) And I’ve always done my best to avoid any dancing scenarios – although I did teach aerobics many years ago. But now I feel ready to do something about this ridiculousness.
I know when body shame became activated. It was when I was ten or eleven years old, and my mom sat me down and had a little talk with me about my weight. At the time, I was an early developer going through a “filling out” stage. Until that day, I hadn’t given much thought to how I looked. But that talk rocked my world and made me feel there was something really wrong with me. I became fixated on my appearance and felt I needed to look good in order to be loved.
I never told my mom how serious an effect that talk had on me and on our relationship. She never meant to hurt me. She worked as a flight attendant recruiter, and in that world physical appearance was of the utmost importance. And I was a sensitive kid.
I’ve done some inner child work in which I imagined my current self as a loving presence in the room during that talk and assured my fifth-grade self that she was beautiful and loveable just the way she was. That was part of the healing. Now I mostly work with feelings as they arise and constrict the present moment, and send love and compassion to both my mom and my younger self.
Back to the Gym
Last winter, I walked outdoors in all kinds of weather conditions, and it was great to experience the fresh air and nature connection. However, it didn’t do much for me physically and actually left me feeling more out of shape than I’d ever felt in my life. When we had a snowstorm in November, I decided I wasn’t going to spend a long winter exercising outdoors (though I do hope for a good season of snowshoeing) and reactivated my gym membership. I’ve been working out almost every day for the past six weeks or so, and it feels awesome.
Every day, I imagine how great it will feel when I finish my workout, and that feeling motivates me to get to the gym. Focusing on positive feelings is key.
I was inspired by a few friends who’d recently committed to fitness and experienced results that included losing weight, having more energy, and feeling better emotionally. Still, I held off on reactivating my gym membership because the thought of exercising indoors around other people with lots of television screens mounted from the ceiling was entirely demotivating.
But I found a way to make it work. I have a subscription to Gaia and spend my time on the cardio machines absorbed in enlightening, inspirational content. The rest of the world melts away when I’m in my little cardio-Gaia cocoon.
So that is going well and has momentum. I do it because it feels great, and I also anticipate how I will feel even better months from now – because that’s what happened with my meditation practice.
Last spring, I recommitted to a daily habit of meditation, and after more than seven months, my practice is solid. It’s not something I feel obligated to do. There’s no dogma attached to it. I do it because it makes such a positive difference in the way I feel, and I want to feel that way more. I expect to experience the same kind of positive effects with exercise. Already, it’s something I’m motivated to do because it feels so good, instead of being something I “have to” do. It’s a subtle yet important difference.
Mindful Meals
The other part of the physical fitness equation, of course, is food intake. I have a pretty healthy diet already but can improve in terms of quantity. There’s a powerful reference experience for this, too, that gives me hope.
The weeklong vipassana meditation retreat I went on last spring and have referenced frequently (because it was so transformative!) involved sitting meditation, walking meditation, dharma talks, and EATING MEDITATION every waking moment. More than 100 of us gathered in the dining hall three times a day for completely silent meals. No eye contact or words spoken. Just mindful eating. Contemplation of what was on our plate and the sensations of tasting, chewing, swallowing, craving, fullness, etc.
During those meals, my plate was like a mandala. A complete universe. I didn’t think about second helpings, and while chewing a forkful of food, it even felt too complicated to think about the next bite or to arrange the food on my plate while still chewing. Instead, I was mindful of the taste and physical sensations and didn’t pick up my fork until I was ready for the next bite.
I appreciated the sensation of comfortable fullness and noticed the pull between that lovely satisfaction and craving more. Resting in satisfaction and choosing to stay with that instead of longing for more is what I remember most about mindful meals at the retreat center. When the retreat was over, I set an intention to eat mindfully one meal a day. But I didn’t follow through on that. Life got in the way, and meals were often rushed. Stress-eating happened.
When I got home from the gym today, I had a homemade buddha bowl for lunch and became aware of thinking about what I’d have after finishing the bowl. Then I remembered my retreat experience and tried to be present to the sensation of enoughness. And it worked. I didn’t have the rice cake with peanut butter afterwards. Didn’t give it any attention. Instead, I lingered in satisfaction. It was a sprawling, spacious sensation, a sense of fullness. It felt really good. Just like a good workout or meditation session.
So mindful eating is a new frontier I want to focus my attention on. Not in a dogmatic way. No shoulds. Better to remember the delicious sensation of one-plate satisfaction from the vipassana retreat and my intention to bring that awareness into my daily life because it feels so good, in itself. Add another healthy habit to my life as a gesture of self-love and lovingkindness, rather than focus on dissatisfaction.
A Path of Kindfulness
We all have our areas for improvement, but what a difference it makes to set intentions based on self-compassion rather than on self-loathing. Focusing on how we want to feel rather than on a current, unsatisfactory condition that brings us down. Imagine it already so, as Adriene Mishler from Yoga with Adriene encouraged in her kickoff email for Dedicate, a 30-day yoga journey to start the New Year that I’m doing for the fourth year in a row. 2018 was my best year yet because I learned the value of focusing on the positive and not giving attention to negative, disempowering thought patterns.
We have a choice about where we put our attention. Choosing presence and satisfaction over craving is a lovely experiment. When you experience the loveliness of it, it can motivate you to do it more. To make it a habit for all the right reasons.
In addition to being aware of satisfaction and craving through mindful eating, you also can be mindful of your thoughts and realize when self-consciousness about body image creeps in and let it just pass without clinging. Then your thoughts about your body become an opportunity for awakening and practicing lovingkindness, tenderness, and acceptance. Through kindfulness, you can appreciate and accept your body now, even as you envision feeling even better about it in the future.
Gratitude is another friend when you’re working with body shame. It is a blessing to have a body that is healthy and not in pain. So many people in this world would give anything to have a healthy, pain-free body. Being able to exercise is a blessing. So is having food to eat.
I absolutely did not intend to write today about the cliché New Year’s topics of diet and exercise. I didn’t intend to write at all. But as I sat in satisfaction after finishing the last, nourishing bite of my buddha bowl, it’s what arose. (I love the inspiration that comes from Presence, and writing was more satisfying than more food would have been.)
© 2019 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, Reiki practitioner, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
