A New Take On Old Friends

In a few weeks, my friend Kelley's book will be published. It is (in part) about the 30+ year friendship we've enjoyed. When developing the book, Kelley asked me and our five close college pals to contribute stories about the women who've influenced our lives. The outcome is a lovely collection of essays and artwork that illuminates the powerful karma our relationships —especially our friendships —have on our lives. 

In fact, there's quantitative and qualitative data on the health benefits that women reap from their "true and constant friends." A report released in 2001 from the Harvard Medical School Nurses' Health Study found that "the more friends women had, the less likely they were to develop physical impairments as they aged, and the more likely they were to be leading a joyful life. In fact, the results were so significant, the researchers concluded, that not having close friends or confidants was as detrimental to your health as smoking or carrying extra weight."

True & Constant Friends

So it turns out that my friends aren't just fun distractions from my work and family responsibilities, they are actually good for me! Well .. honestly, I knew that before the researchers at Harvard.

I also know that relationships are important to my spiritual and emotional well-being. Women, in general terms, define ourselves by our relationships ... so with that in mind I suppose I have been provided a virtual Websters of meaning in my life. 

I am fortunate to have a number of good friends from various areas of my life. Staying in touch with them is important to me, but not for the sake of nostalgia. Frankly, there are a lot of times in my life (including some of my college years ) that I would really rather not ever revisit. I honestly don't want to be reminded that I used to drink too much or wear blue eye shadow or fancy myself as a punk rocker. I don't get together with my friends to reminisce about who I was. No thanks. Staying in touch with these women is important because I need to be who I am. And when I'm with my best friends, I am reminded of the best parts of myself, what is essential to me. 

In my girlfriends (including my sisters), I see reflections of my greatest strengths and weaknesses. These are the women with whom I identify, and who I've gotten to know over and over again throughout the years. We have been — and still are —growing up together. No, I don't want to jump in the way-back machine when we're together. Rather, these are the people with whom I want to be most real and present. Yes, we share history, but we also share the present moment and that's I value most today.

Lesson of the Week: Befriend the Tigers

Lessons are given to us all the time. Maybe it's just that I'm aware of some theme or issue and everything becomes relevant, but lately my lessons have been more of the hit-me-over-the-head kind. I know I can be rather dense at times, but honestly sometimes I think God or karma or the Universe or whatever has really got my number. This is good. I need to be called up on a regular basis and have things explained to me in the simplest terms possible.
   Recently, the lesson I received was "remain in the present."
   I'm on the list for several daily or weekly inspirational meditations and it's weeks like these when the messages from this disparate authors (a Catholic priest and a Buddhist nun) jive up as if they were conferring with one another. Then, as I need more affirmation, I turn to the pages of my three secular daily meditation books, I'll be damned if those books don't start in on staying present as well.
   So fine. I get it. I needed to remain in the present because my run-away thoughts keep making me miserable. And I have to admit that as soon as I redoubled my efforts to be happy with my life exactly as it is, I do feel happier.
   And although I know being anxious is borrowing from the future, I can't help it. I suppose most people feel that wave of uncertainty from time to time. But I am especially anxious when making decisions these days and that's odd for a woman who has been extraordinarily decisive for most of her life. Remaining in the present helps relieve the anxiety. But what helps me most to stay in the present is realizing that my feelings of anxiety are actually positive, not negative.

   Daniel Smith published an excellent opinion piece on anxiety in the New York Times recently. Its title: The Anxious Idiot. For him, anxiety is expressed as doing nothing to aid his afflictive, fearful feelings. He shuts down, finds himself stuck. And that is when self-awareness works best—when I'm stuck and I can no longer run away from whatever it is that's causing my discomfort. 

   Before you start thinking I've lost my PollyAnna mind, think about it. Anxiety, anger, fear and sorrow are signals that something in my life is out of balance. These adverse emotions are beacons—like the Bat Signal—that shine an irrefutable light on what's going on in my life. So when a feeling of uncertainty rises up inside,  instead of setting aside my anxiety by distracting myself with other thoughts or projects or people or a margarita sans salt, I need to sit and consider what it is that's actually making me anxious. Yes, easier said than done.
   For anyone who is interested in getting to the root of anxiety, Vietnamese Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh has some beautiful meditations on how to go about it. He is so gentle with these emotions that his words are like those we use to comfort a tiny infant. And indeed, these are childish emotions, emotions learned in childhood and bent out of the fears of childhood, fears such as abandonment, loss, neediness, lack of attention.

Jack befriends a baby tiger at the Little Zoo That Could
in Gulf Shores, Ala., July, 2011.

    I am trying to be more gentle with my fears and anxieties. Instead of sweeping them aside, I gather them up, swaddle them in the warmth of compassion by trying to remember back to the point in time when I first felt that same feeling (which by no small coincidence is most often during childhood.) Then I listen to what those feelings are trying to tell me. Usually it's some variation on the theme of, "I'm scared my life is not turning out as I planned." To which now—with the help of Buddhist practice and study—I can say, "Good! Because your plan pretty much sucked and there's something so much better out there than your pea brain could ever imagine—if you stop planning, let go of the future and just focus on making choices that are healthy for you."
   As I was writing this essay, I received another related message. This time it was my weekly email from the Tibetan Buddhist nun Pema Chodron. Here's what she shared:

   "There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs, and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly.

Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life."

What I Learned From A Baptist Bishop

I didn't know who Bishop Calvin Woods was when my client called and asked me to write a video script celebrating his accomplishments. The video was for a series called History in Motion and is part of an award presented each year by Regions Bank during Black History Month. 

I set up an interview time, and on Tuesday afternoon, we met. Bishop Woods grinned when he saw me, and his smile was infectious. Although I extended my hand to him as I introduced myself, that sort of greeting seemed far too formal. At once, we hugged and laughed. I felt an immediate affinity for this 80-year old man who was clearly so full of love and joy.

Proof of Bishop Woods work in the 60s:
Jack and his friend TJ in 2006. They
met in preschool at age 2.5 and are still
best friends today. 

Sitting across a conference table, Woods' story quickly unfolded. He was a leader in the Alabama Christian Movement for Equal Rights, which was started by Rev. Shuttlesworth. Many people know of Calvin's older brother Rev. Abraham Woods, who served as the president of the Birmingham chapter of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. (A street in downtown Birmingham bears his name.) But Calvin, who began to preach at age 19, was right in there too. In 1958, he was arrested for encouraging his congregation to boycott riding buses in Birmingham. In 1963, he was beaten, arrested and hauled off to jail for sitting at a whites-only lunch counter. Later that year, he delivered a list of conditions from ACMER to city hall, and helped negotiate the integration of Birmingham's white business sector.

By 1966, Birmingham was still one of the 10 most segregated cities in the country. Dr. Martin Luther King tapped Calvin Woods as one of ten SCLC City Conveners in the nation. As such, he helped educate Birmingham ministers in the practices of non-violent protest. (But make no mistake, Woods was not—and is not—a passive man.)

Throughout his interview, Bishop Woods attributed his life and accomplishments to God. This wasn't an act of feigned religiousity or humility. I can't even begin to explain what it was like to sit across from a human being who is so genuine and loving and unselfconscious. This man has seen and experienced things in his lifetime that should have left him bitter and shaken — or at least resentful and jaded. Instead he exuded a confidence and presence that contained both the wisdom of ages and childlike wonder. (When he told me he had visions of Jesus and speaks with angels on a regular basis, I believed him.)

In 1963, when Woods was doing hard labor for his "crime," I was an infant, not even a year old in Little Rock, Ark. (the scene of hotly contested desegregation at Central High School.) I was blissfully ignorant of the lives being risked — and lost — in the name of equanimity, not just for people of a certain color, but for everyone. I am still wrapping my head around the incredible feats of bravery and perseverance performed by the men and women who led and supported the Civil Rights Movement.  The fact that I grew up in a different world, a world were I am hardly aware of the sacrifices that were made back then, is a testament to what was accomplished.

Sure, our world is far from perfect. Since its beginnings, mankind has —for the most part — resolved its problems through force and violence. But something in our collective karma changed when those young men and women sat down at a lunch counter and asked to be served. Our primal responses shifted when children locked arms, ignoring the jeers and hateful words and worse being thrown at them as they marched through the streets of downtown Birmingham. Dr. King knew that non-reaction was a shield and a sword. And in a very definitive way, these non-violent protesters changed the world with ... peace. And the world watched (through the miracle of broadcast TV) and saw a truth that was so undeniable that centuries of fear and hatred were finally brought to light.

"We had no idea we would make an impact in the world," Woods said at the end of the interview. "But our work is never over. You can’t stop talking about love and faith and prayer." 

Despite the terrible violence in Paris this past month, the world my son Jack is growing up in is a still more peaceful, loving world because of the wisdom of Dr. King, Bishop Woods and all those who met hatred with love and compassion. But in the words of the good Bishop, "Our work is never over."

New Year, New Perspective, More Practice

It seems like eons ago now, but just last month, I was consumed with a most-important task: Buy a pair of black shoes for Jack. As a member of the middle school band, Jack was required to wear his red band polo shirt with black pants, black socks and black "dress" shoes for their annual Holiday Concert. All he owns are bright-colored athletic shoes.

Finding a pair of "cool" black shoes that weren't sneakers and didn't set me back financially — especially at Christmas time —was a neat trick. I shopped three or four shoe stores before I found a pair that would suffice. Granted, they were a bit large, but since Jack's a growing almost-13-year-old, I figured it was better to err on the side of having him flop around a bit than buy a pair he would wear once and outgrow. (By the time the spring concert rolls around, the shoes will fit.) I didn't count up the time I spent hunting down black shoes that were just right in price, size and coolness, but I suspect it was, collectively, three hours of my life.

The night of the concert rolled around and Jack looked great. He took the stage with the rest of the seventh grade band (more than 80 kids) and their sound was truly impressive. They played holiday favorites, including Believe from The Polar Express, which was hauntingly beautiful even with a few sour notes. It seemed they had hardly warmed up, when the concert was over. Their time on the stage lasted 10 minutes, tops.

Almost as soon as it arrives ...

"Thank you, Seventh Grade," said the band director "And now ... for the Eighth Grade Band!"

On the drive home, I complimented Jack on his performance. He took my praise with muffled thanks. "I doubt you could even hear me," he said.

"Well, you were part of the whole sound and that sounded great! Really, I was impressed. Was it fun to be in a concert?"

"Yeah," he said. "But we sure spent a lot of time practicing just to play on stage for a few minutes."

I considered Jack's complaint: The band practiced every day for more than an hour to play on stage for ten minutes. Likewise, I spent far more time than I care to count, trying to find an affordable pair of "cool" black dress shoes, and all for ten minutes on stage. I could have felt really let down, or even angry about wasting my time finding those darned shoes (which, BTW, I couldn't even see when Jack was on stage.) But as we talked about the ratio of practice to performance time, a thought occurred to me: Isn't this the way I've lived most of my life?

... the big event ...

So much of my life has been about planning, preparation and anticipation. In reality, very little of my time is spent on "stage." The "on stage" moments — the births, graduations, performances, tests, dances, parties, presentations, promotions, weddings, vacations, funerals — are fleeting. Most of my life is spent gathering knowledge, strength, money and time off for those brief events. Why?

What if I placed more emphasis, celebration, and sense of accomplishment on the practice itself? What if I practiced simply because I enjoy the practice — if I live for the sake of living — with the knowledge that the events will come and go? In other words, what if I could live as if the events were just practice, too?

Journalist Malcolm Gladwell studied the effects of practice in his 2008 book, "The Outliers: The Story of Success." In researching people and entities, such as The Beatles and Bill Gates, who achieved great success, the common denominator was not intellect, talent or resources. The common factor was practice. Specifically, he noted 10,000 hours of practice were required to achieve mastery and success. He dubbed this theory, the "10,000 Hour Rule."

... is over.

This time of year, I usually assess the past and set goals, or resolutions. In the past, I used to have a lengthy to-do list of aspirations for the year. But this year, I have only one resolution. (And not because I can't think of habits in my life I'd like to improve.) This year, my intention is to place less emphasis on the big events and more time celebrating everyday life.  That way, every day can be New Year's Day, a chance to start fresh and, yes, enjoy the practice of practice.

Making Peace with Christmas ... WWBD?

When I first began practicing the teachings of Buddha, I wasn't sure how to reconcile my Christian roots. More specifically, I wasn't sure if I should celebrate Christmas. 

I grew up loving all the holiday traditions. I didn't want to give up decorating a tree or hanging the stockings by the chimney with care. On the other hand, I felt like a hypocrite celebrating a Christian holiday when I didn't believe in it the way that (many) Christians do. 

I like to think that I follow the teachings of Christ, just as I follow Buddha’s wisdom, but if don't call myself a Christian, should I celebrate Christ's birth? Am I just in it for the gifts?

Of course, there's a lot of holiday excess and bling that's not very Buddhist —or Christian, for that matter. Not to throw the Baby Jesus out with the bath water, but the holiday has become one of our culture's ultimate expressions of attachment — and Buddhists consider attachment one of the Three Poisons (or delusions) that keep us trapped in suffering. 

We long for something, and we're dissatisfied because we don't have it. We spend a lot of time thinking about this longed-for thing or event. We forget to be present and grateful for all the gifts we already have. Then we get the gift (or relationship or job or possession) that we longed for, and we suffer when it (ultimately) goes away.

Is the answer to not to celebrate at all? No. In its purest form, Christmas is about spreading happiness and love,  peace on earth and good will to all. These intentions are at the core of Buddhist principles. So, when it comes to honoring the holidays, I need to consider, "What would Buddha do?" (WWBD?) 

Buddha would consider the facts. After more than 2000 years, Jesus teachings still encourage us to be our best selves. Sure there have been miscarriages of his wisdom, but there has been far more positive change in our world because of him. That 2.2 billion people aspire to follow Christ's teachings today—especially when there is so much suffering and delusion in the world — is a miracle. 

It's so easy to become polarized about our beliefs. But spiritual practices don't have to be mutually exclusive. It's not a competition. The Buddha certainly wouldn't care that Jesus has more followers or Facebook friends. From what I've read about the Buddha, he'd be the first person to "Like" Jesus. The Buddha would definitely celebrate Jesus' birth. Just because Jesus’ teachings are more popular, the Buddha wouldn’t pout like an Auburn fan after losing the 2014 Iron Bowl to Alabama. The Buddha would shout, "Go Jesus! Go!"

So this year, at 10 p.m. on Christmas Eve, Jack, Jason and I bundled up and walked three blocks to St. Andrew's Episcopal Church for their Christmas Eve service. When Jack made feint protest about attending, I heard myself say, "The whole reason we celebrate Christmas and have all these gifts under the tree is because Jesus was born."

Even my tenacious pre-teen couldn't argue with that logic.

"No matter what we believe, Jesus has inspired a lot of people to do a lot of good in this world," I said. "For that reason alone, we should honor his birth."

I'm still trying to define my own traditions, but for now I've resolved my holiday spirit. With renewed enthusiasm, I'll continue to celebrate the birth of Jesus, who brought us enlightened teachings about love, compassion and forgiveness and so much more. And I will continue to practice Buddhism, which encourages understanding, equanimity, meditation and mindfulness. And like the Buddha, I will say, “Go Jesus! Go! Enlighten the World! Happy Birthday! And Merry Christmas one and all— everyday of the year!”

The Santa of My Understanding

It finally happened. A few weeks ago, Jack cornered me and demanded the answer to the one question I have long dreaded. I'm prepared for most of the biggies: "How exactly are babies made?"  "Did you ever smoke pot?" "What happens when you die?" and "Why did you and Dad get divorced?" But (strangely) I caught off guard by this simple quiz:

Look closely and you'll see evidence
of Santa's existence.

"Is Santa real?" he asked.

Honestly, I didn't think Jack believed in Santa anymore. I suspected that he'd heard rumors at school and was just playing along.

"What do you think?" I said, deftly lobbing the ball back into his court. I needed to at least buy some time and see where this inquisition was coming from.

"I dont' know," he sad. "That's why I'm asking you."

Crap. My question deflector failed. Time for tactic #2: Change the subject.

"OK," I said. "So ... what do you want for dinner?"

Yes, I was tap dancing for time here; and it worked momentarily as Jack lobbied to have pizza for a second night in a row.

"But Mom," he said. "You didn't answer my question: Is there really a Santa Claus?"

Dang! I was backed into a corner now. There was only one thing left to do: Be honest.

"Well, I believed in him when I was a kid," I said. "And I still think he's real."

I paused for a moment.

"Yes, as far as I can tell, Santa IS real," I said.

"Yeah," Jack said. "I think so, too."

And that was that — for then. The subject came up again the next week, and again I testified to my belief  in Santa and the conversation ended. But Jack isn't convinced and I'm sure it's hard to be a Believer these days when your almost 13 and there's a lot of Santa smack talk going down among your peers.

But in the best possible way, Jack's query tested my own beliefs and made me think. I do believe in Santa, but who is Santa?

The Santa I have come to know and see at work in the world at Christmas time is the embodiment of happiness, unconditional love and joy. The Santa of my understanding is generous and playful and spontaneous. He inspires the world to look for opportunities to give — and to receive —with gratitude, not just at Christmas, but year 'round.

Toward the end of his life, the renowned psychiatrist and psychotherapist Carl Jung was asked an equally tough question in a BBC television interview, "Do you believe in God now?" Jung paused, looked right into the camera, smiled and said, "I know. I don't need to believe. I know." By this, I think he meant that he had seen evidence of a Divine power in the world and therefore there he no longer had need for blind faith or belief.*

So if Jack should ask again, I will rely on a mind far greater than mine and borrow Jung's response. I don't need to believe in Santa. I know Santa, I know.

*Jung provided this explanation of his statement in a follow-up letter to BBC TV:

"Only my experience can be good or evil, but I know that the superior will is based upon a foundation which transcends human imagination. Since I know of my collision with a superior will in my own psychical system, I know of God, and if I should venture the illegitimate hypostasis of my image, I would say, of a God beyond good and evil, just as much dwelling in myself as everywhere else: Deus est circulus cuius centrum est ubique, cuis circumferentia vero nusquam. (God is a circle whose center is everywhere, but whose circumference is nowhere.)"

My Do-Over Life: 4 Years Later

Some people believe that four is the number of completion. There are four seasons, four directions, four elements, four cycles of the moon,  four horsemen of the Apocalypse, and, of course, four Hunger Games movies ...  I'm not sure of its karmic significance, but four years ago, I began this blog as a chronicle of my spiritual journey. I wasn't so bold to announce that I was on a quest for spirituality, but that's exactly what it was — and continues to be. And four years later ... here I am. 

I began writing about my interest in Buddhism and how I was incorporating the Buddha's teachings into my daily life as a writer, Mom, friend, sister, etc. I embarked on a new phase of my life and I found writing about it helped. I suppose I shared my experiences as a means of validating them. Some of my blog entries received praise. Some people ridiculed me, pointed out my typos and grammatical lapses, gaphawed at my home-spun Buddhist-Catholic wisdom. (And yes, I do realize that was not a reflection of me as much as it was of these critics.) Accepting this criticism was a gift since it marked a tremendous hurdle to cross as a writer and a person, who used to look to others for my value.

Where it all began ... 

Over the past 48 months, since I launched this blog, I've accomplished a lot. I reported stories for NPR and Marketplace. I attended retreats at Thich Nhat Hanhs' monastery in Mississippi and studied with Rabbi Rami Shapiro in Tennessee.  I stopped smoking after more years than I care to recount of being addicted to nicotine. I joined a 12-Step recovery group. I've met a lot of wonderful people along the way and have been inspired to keep going on my path.

In the past four years, I've also experienced significant loss. My marriage legally concluded, and I had to let go of the dream of having a "traditional" family.  I said goodbye to my friends, Jenniffer Franks and Wendy Rooney Beadle, both of whom succumbed to cancer. I've seen age take the form of wrinkles and jiggles and aches that weren't present in my youth. I've set aside longed for outcomes that I realize (now) were egocentric aspirations. (For example, I will never be Terry Gross' replacement on Fresh Air.)

Of course, I had a lot of starts and stops. Dating again after 15 years of marriage was an eye-opener to say the least. Online dating was a major fail, with the exception of meeting a few really nice guys who are now my friends. Only when I let go of my idea of love and romance did I meet Jason. We've been together now for almost three years. Amazing. I've learned to create a new "traditional" family in a new home of my design.

My career has also seen it's share of twists and turns and continues to unfold in interesting ways. Over the years, I've had to resign accounts and quit jobs to remain healthy spiritually, emotionally and physically. Freelance writing seems to suit me. Although the uncertainty of income is difficult at times, I love the freedom it affords. In the past year, I have written a book (or two), which is the realization of a long-held goal.

I've learned so much over the past four years! That's certainly self-evident in these 120+ blog entires. Recently, I've been asked to share some of my experiences as a teacher for the Institute for Conscious Being. In my workshops, I teach students how to use writing as a tool for spiritual practice. Indeed, I've found writing and meditation have a lot in common when it comes to discerning truth. 

When I consider all that has transpired over the past four years, if feels like a rebirth. I was given another chance by — for lack of a better term —God, who I perceive to be a compassionate power far greater than me and my ideas. 

I believe we all have lives within our lives. Every day, when I wake up I have the chance to respond to life in a healthier manner. And that wake-up call is not just in the morning when I first get out of bed. Waking up can happen at anytime, any minute of any day. At anytime, I can stop and determine to live a healthier and more authentic life. I don't have to wait until 12:01 a.m. on January 1 to give up negative habits or start practicing positive ones. As soon as I discover a motive, intention or response that I'd like to change, I can change it.

In her book, No Time to Lose: A Timely Guide to the Way of the Bodhisattva, my favorite Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron says, "At some point, we need to stop identifying with our weaknesses and shift our allegiance to our basic goodness. It’s highly beneficial to understand that our limitations are not absolute and monolithic, but relative and removable. The wisdom of buddha nature is available to us at any time." 

The Way of the Bodhisattva was written by the 8th century Indian Buddhist scholar Shantideva. It outlines the method for becoming a wisdom being who will return again and again (as necessary) until all sentient beings reach enlightenment. In this way, a bodhisattva is sort of a fire fighter of the Buddhist world. She will will not rest until every cat, dog, fish and cockroach is carried out of the smoke and flames of delusion to spiritual safety. Yes, it's a big job, to set aside my ego and see the perspective of others. But as Chodron puts it, "Life is too short to stay addicted to ego." 

And so I continue on. I have no clue what the next year —let alone next four — will bring. I do know that the seeds of healthy intention planted four years ago will continue to grow and flourish as long as I tend my garden well. Thank you for joining me on this journey and reading along.  

xo -B