Inspiration and Travel

"The world is a book, and those who don't travel only read one page." ~ St. Augustine

In the next six weeks, I am going to be traveling to 5 different states. My schedule is daunting and each destination will require a high level of energy from me. I am going to moving my teenagers into two different (and new) spaces 1800 miles apart from one another. I'm going to visit with dear friends and family. I'm going have the chance to visit many new places to which I've never traveled before. I will have a tight schedule, and each piece of the itinerary is going to have to line up perfectly in order for me to accomplish each key mission. At the same time, I don't want to visit each of these unfamiliar destinations with my head buried in a day planner. My hope is to a bang up job for the crucial reasons I'm in each place, but I also have faith that I'll have enough time, each in every location, for wonder, for daydreaming, for unplanned exploration and for discovery.

My first mission will be going to Florida to help find my son an apartment, to furnish it and to get him ready to move in later in August. Because I'm from the west coast, my family tends to go west on our vacations, rather than south from New England. Florida is a completely new expedition for us, and I'm incredibly proud of my son for forging off on his own in this way. In moving to Florida from Maine, Joshua is being quite intrepid....he is moving away from everything that's familiar and comforting. Because of his move, I get the pleasure in learning about a new place along with him. My hope is that we'll get to know the area extremely well. I don't want to just walk into national chain stores. Rather, I want to discover the offbeat places, the ones that locals know about, as we set up his new home. We can remain within our comfort zone, or we can expand upon it, and hopefully, achieve something beyond our limitations. Having the chance to set up a place to live for Josh will be the most important piece of this trip. However, I'm also excited about the chance to meet new people, eat in new restaurants, learn about a part of our nation with which I'm completely unfamiliar and to practice patience when things will, inevitably, not go as planned.

After Florida, my daughter and I are traveling to Del Mar, California, where we'll spend a week on the beach with family and friends. Although I was born in San Francisco, and spent much of my growing up life in Santa Barbara, I've never been to Del Mar. I've seen pictures. I've heard wonderful stories. I've seen scenic locations in movies. But, I've never actually been there myself. It has been too many years since my toes wriggled in the Pacific Ocean. It's been an eternity since I've had nothing to do but lie on a beach and soak up the sun. As much of an art lover as I am, it's felt like centuries since I've been immersed in an artists' community. I have missed eating fresh avocados, tasting perfect Mahi-Mahi and picking lemons right from the tree. I look forward to exploring every one of my senses in this enchanting, radiant Shangri-La.

Finally, after returning to the Northeast, I'll bring my daughter back to her beautiful prep school in western Massachusetts. After visiting family in New Hampshire, we'll move through our routine of setting up Caroline's room in record time. Despite our prodigious efforts and efficiency, there is something bittersweet about moving her into her dorm room each year. We have our systems down to a science now, and we pack our car in reverse order of how we plan on unloading. We know just what to bring in first, and can quickly create order from chaos. At the same time, with every poster I hang on the wall, or with each sweater I fold, I realize that my little girl is that much more independent from me. I am thrilled with her success and determination, and I feel blessed that her school is a perfect match. And yet, as I unpack the car, I'm letting go of her, item by item. Still, I have been fortunate to learn the area around her school very well. I have restaurants that I just love returning to, and people I enjoy seeing when I'm there. I feel a sense of loving community in a place that doesn't even 'belong' to me. It's always a joy to return, to see familiar faces and to feel at home in a place that is wonderfully welcoming.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the great Roman philosopher and dramatist, wrote "Travel and change of place new vigor to the mind." I have resolved to see the next month as a way to accomplish that idea. I hope to re-energize my spirit, to broaden my perspective and to find myself richly renewed in each unfamiliar place. I hope that I can discover something wonderful about every destination, and I hope that I will find myself enlightened by new locales. Ray Bradbury wrote, "Half the fun of the travel is the aesthetic of lostness." While I'd prefer not to get completely lost, I am excited about finding that tingly feeling of not being completely on the map all the time. I hope to accomplish my set tasks, to learn some new skills, and above all, to enjoy this lengthy amount of time out of my routine.

Beyond that, I'm open to new possibilities. I just hope I don't lose my luggage in the process.

Anticipation

Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

I happen to be ridiculous when it comes to the anticipation that comes with the Christmas season. I morph, mystically and on schedule, into an impatient Elf. I am the first person to want to put up my tree. In general, the day after Thanksgiving is the perfect time for me.I am filled with a holiday "nesting" spirit. As I'm cleaning up the turkey and creating bags of leftovers, I also want to begin singing Christmas carols, dusting off the Christmas light up village (complete with skating pond) and start decorating my house within every square inch. Out go the regular pillows and in come the Christmas ones. I want to watch tear jerker holiday movies on the Lifetime Channel. I wear embarrassing Santa aprons when I cook and Santa hats when I run errands. And, I usually have my cards ready to mail out on December 1st. In my heart, there is no break between the two holidays: it's as if Thanksgiving is just Opening Day for a marathon of red & green excitement. I wish everyone in every store, "Happy Holidays". I anticipate Christmas morning with a child's heart. The only difference is, I'm far more excited to see the expressions on my family's faces when they open the gifts I've picked out for them. It's all I can do not to give them presents early. I'm terrible about this: my daughter has had to say "No, Mom...we wait for Christmas or it's not special!". Like a four year old, I simply can't wait, and all of my nervous energy comes to a frenetic peak on Christmas Eve. I want to sing all night and wake up with the Christmas morning sun.

The problem is not my passion for Christmas, it's the crash that inevitably comes after. As soon as the gifts are unwrapped, the living is tidied up, and we've eaten our Brunch, I feel a unbearable sense of let down. I want my exuberance back again. What happened to "Peace on Earth; Goodwill towards Men"? It seems to vanish altogether. I want to piece the wrapping paper back together, and travel through time back to that moment just before we began sorting the gifts. I begin to rethink every purchase I made and realize that most of them were completely wrong. I want back the festivity that comes before the festival, the magic that comes before the rabbit is pulled from the hat and the expectation of a Broadway show the moment before the curtain is pulled up. I want the dimmed theater, the lifted glass just before a toast and the cake while the candles are still burning. I dream of the first page of a book you can't wait to read. To me, that infinitesimal foretaste is where the real joy lies.

So, what is there to do, when one appreciates the enthusiastic idealism more than real thing? When the clothes don't fit, when the video is one the receiver has, when the tree starts to look ragged, when the French toast burns and the pile of rubbish seems far bigger than the stack of gifts was, it can be terribly gloomy. I've found myself cleaning up, and then simply wanting to take the tree down Christmas evening...wanting to 'get it over with'. If I can't find the adrenaline rush of good cheer, I want it to be all over completely, with every trace of Christmas eradicated before New Year's. If my heart doesn't burst with the readiness, I want to move on. My inner Grinch seems to steal Christmas after Christmas has come.

The wonderful thing about life is that we're given more years to get it right, and to try again. This year I have identified my self-destructive behavior and am circumventing my own bad actions. I'm not taking the tree down before New Year's. That simply won't happen. My daughter is my sponsor in the 'extend the Christmas experience' quest. She's even more passionate about Christmas than I am...and she doesn't let the day itself ruin her holiday cheer. "When the student is ready, the master will appear"....and in my case, the master happens to be my 15 year old. We're going to enjoy our time by the tree, reading, having cocoa and tea, the entire time she's home from school. We're going to organize our gifts so that she doesn't pull out our stockings in 2010, to discover that they're all half full with last year's items. We're going to make a plan for putting away the Christmas decorations more slowly and more deliberately, so that we stretch out the process, rather than treat it like a move across country. Hopefully, this will have the added benefit of finding everything as we need it next November. If we take the after Christmas idea more slowly, it might just like inching into a swimming pool....it will be bracing, but it will keep away the shock factor. We are going to use our Christmas plates until New Year's, and not allow the negativity into our home. We're going to appreciate our gifts one at a time, instead of being gluttonous with them all at once. This will also keep the excitement fresh.

Patience has never been the strongest area in my life. I was notorious for peeking in my mother's closet weeks leading up to my birthday. I wanted to know the gender of my babies, from the moment I found out I was expecting. I couldn't wait for our puppies to come home from the day they were born. I wanted what I wanted without having to wait. I've learned, in my wiser middle years, that the sweetest moments lie in being fully present in the current moment. The pleasure that can be derived from slowing down, being mindful in each new experience, even the anticipation leading up to it, can far outweigh rushed, transitory glimpses of thrill. Therefore, it's my goal this year to be peaceful, rather than voracious, in my holiday spirit. In doing so, perhaps the joyful fires will remain kindled longer...and not burn themselves out at 5 minutes past 9 on Christmas morning.

As Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote so eloquently, "All things come round to him who will but wait." I hope that my waiting will bring about a new understanding of the Christmas spirit....as well as an extension of my appreciation for it.

And, I promise not to peek this year. Well, maybe just a little.

The Present Moment

Present-moment living, getting in touch with your now, is at the heart of effective living. When you think about it, there really is no other moment you can live. Now is all there is, and the future is just another present moment to live when it arrives. One thing is certain, you cannot live it until it does appear. ~ Wayne Dwyer

One of the areas in Yoga that has long been my struggle is the essence of remaining in the Present Moment. A lifelong daydreamer, I've always managed to drift off, thinking of the next place I'd like to be, something I'd rather be doing or even just imagining other possibilities that could be happening, when the next step of journey arrives. This is not the say I'm dissatisfied with my life. Quite the contrary...I count my blessings daily. And yet, I grapple with keeping my heart, my mind and my spirit grounded in the here and now...and to be fully present in this very moment, in this very time. The irony is that I've always imagined the next step: when I was little, I wanted to be big, before I was married, I couldn't wait to set up my home. Before I had children, I couldn't wait to have a baby. When my babies were little, I imagined their being bigger and more independent. Always, I had in my mind what was coming 'next'....rarely, what was here in this very time. I would tackle a stack of dishes in the sink, and think about how incredible life would be when "X, Y, Z" were to happen. As my hands would root around in the warm, sudsy water, I wouldn't think about what I needed to be happy. I truly have felt joy and contentment. And yet, there was the part of me always waiting to turn the page, and begin the next chapter.

Needless to say, patience has long been my biggest stumbling block in my spiritual quest. St. Paul wrote that the fruits of the Spirit are, "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." (Galatians 5:22). The Talmud extols "patience as the essence of a faithful man". Buddhism believes that patience is one of the "perfections" that one must achieve to attain enlightenment. I believe in all of these principles. I am devout in my love, my joy and utter gratitude for the life I have been blessed with. For every day that I have been graced with living, I feel a sense of profound awe and thankfulness. So, why do I struggle so with the concept of remaining grounded in the present moment? Why do I want to rush down the stairs, rip the paper open the metaphorical red and green packages, and tear into the Christmas gifts of life, like a wild 5 year old? Why can't I seem to sit at the top of the stairs....gazing with peace upon the scene below, and take the moment fully in, before rushing headlong into the future?

Living in the present moment, grounded fully in who we are, and in where we are, has been a challenge for many people for all of recorded time. Even Mother Theresa, whose life of utter selflessness, I admire deeply, reported periods of impatience, exhaustion and feeling spiritually tapped out. She looked for a time in which there would be no more poor to have such need, and for herself to have infinite strength to deal with all those who need her. Towards the end of her life she wrote, "All things pass... Patience attains all it strives for." The meaning? Keep on doing what you're doing: do good work, love those around you, remain focused on the tasks at hand. Patience isn't a place we arrive at, as a destination. Patience, itself, is a journey...and achieving it is a byproduct of living moment by moment.

Living in the present moment is not something new to our current age of fast-paced technology and instant gratification. What I will admit is that it's tougher than ever to remain grounded in living our lives as they come. When we're bombarded with advertisements, television shows and magazines, we wonder if we're missing something by not looking ahead more than we do. We wonder if our futures really be brighter if we only plan to move to a different place....a different home. We wonder if life will pass us by in not planning better.....or rather, by not planning to live a certain way, in a certain place. Plans aren't a bad thing: they help us pay our bills on time, arrive to attend meetings, do our jobs, parent our children well and remain involved in our communitities. Plans keep us focused on where we need to be right now. The problem with plans is that we can look too far ahead with them....and in doing so, lose sight of the moment we're living in. We can miss the joy of a summer night by thinking about plans to get the house ready for winter. We can let our children's babyhoods slip through fingers as we worry about where they will go to college. We can miss the touch of our spouse holding our hand on a Sunday evening, because we're mentally calculating all the crises that await us in the week ahead.

The wonderful Buddhist monk, Thich Naht Hahn, wrote a beautiful book on remaining in the present moment: "Peace is Every Step", about living in mindfulness everyday. One of the meditations he describes is very simple. As one sits in a peaceful position, or goes for a gentle walk, one repeats to herself:

• As I breathe in, I calm my body and mind.
• As I breathe out, I smile.
• Sitting (or walking), I am grounded in the Present moment.
• I know it is a wonderful moment.

As simple as this meditation sounds, it's surpringly effective. When I find myself thinking about "What? Where? When? HOW?!" for the next phase of my life, I realize that the next phase will come soon enough. I will have ample time, ample opportunity and ample ability to deal with all the blessings and challenges that lie ahead. What I will not have is the blessing of a moment I let slip away, by worrying, or even daydreaming, about what's still to come. The phrase "Carpe Diem" (or Seize the day!) made so popular in the wonderful Robin Williams film, "The Dead Poet's Society", is quite true. Today is a day that will never come again. What will you make of it? Will you enjoy it? Will you conquer the day's tasks, or will you ignore them, too focused on next year's burdens? Remember to always be the author of your day. For good or bad, for better or wose, and even for richer or for poorer, today is the moment to live in...so make certain that you appreciate it for all its worth, and live fully in the experiences as they arise.