Colette Lafia

Emotions can be complex and  hit us strongly at times. But as the strong winds of an emotion overcomes us like a powerful storm, what keeps us anchored?

Yesterday at work a young teacher told me she was pregnant. In the moment, I shared her joy, but later in the day, maybe because I was tired and vulnerable, I spiraled into my memories of trying to get pregnant and the  sadness I felt over never conceiving and having children. A strong wave of grief came over me. I cried. I could hear the question: why? why does it work out for some people and not for others? But I didn’t feed the question, knowing it was not a thread I needed to pull.

Instead, I talked with a trusted colleague at the school and shared my feelings. “Your mourning,” she said. And by her naming my experience and witnessing it, I felt some relief. Later that afternoon,  I came home and took a bike ride, inviting the fresh air, the clear sky, and the tall trees to be my spiritual companions as I rode through the park. Again, I began to feel some relief.

When my husband came home, we talked, and the compassion between us around what we had experienced together continues to be a source of healing. I really appreciate the way he doesn’t dismiss my feelings and understands the complexity and layers to it, especially for a woman. He said, “let love be the center of your life, and let everything, the joys and the sorrows, come out of that.” Such good, wise words.

That evening, even though I was tired, I went to my drawing class, and allowed my creativity to be another healing force for me, a spiritual companion, something that activates, heals, soothes, and invigorates my spirit. Again, I began to feel some relief.

During the early morning, I had a flash of the young woman again, and I smiled at her in my imagination and repeated the mantra: I trust in the way my life has unfolded. I trust in the way my life is unfolding.

Recently my elderly mother, who is going through many health concerns, said to me,  “Our attitude is everything.” She has said this to me many times and usually I just complacently agree, but this time I paused and asked myself: what is attitude? And really, why is it so important.

Right now I notice that my attitude is negative and gloomy. I have not been sleeping with any ease for quite a while and it’s wearing me down. Usually, I’ll get a break in the cycle, but for the last month it hasn’t let up. As much as I want to have an easy and relaxed attitude about it, I can’t seem to. It’s turned into a struggle and I know that only makes it more difficult.

How can I affect my attitude?

I started reading Living Gratitude by Angeles Arrien and she poses some challenging questions: Can you look at your life through grateful eyes? Can you focus on what is working in your life? And I would add: Can you do these things when things feel like they aren’t going well?

I can start there. After my tantrum about not getting enough sleep, I can pause and see the hours of sleep I did get and I can say thank you for the hours of sleep of I did receive.

The more I can focus on what is working in my life, I might just slightly be able shift my attitude towards something more grateful and hopeful. And hope does shines some light on darkness.

It’s really valuable to reflect on what attitudes we hold? And even question them. An attitude that is hopeful and grateful may offer some relief and even more happiness in our daily lives. For today, I will invite myself to see my life through “grateful eyes.”

As the Christmas lights and ornaments come off the tree, and I clean out the hallway closet  (finally), a tone of reflection fills the air. Over the past few days, I have been perusing my journals and notebooks from this year, reflecting on what were my greatest satisfactions, my most pressing difficulties, and my largest teachings for 2011.

As I charted my discoveries, I came to realize that one of my biggest teachings this year came from my big toe and the toe tendonitis that I have been handling for almost a year now. Our teachers can come in any form and often  surprise us.

It has taken enormous patience to face the slow healing process of this ailment. What at first seemed like such a small thing has ended up having a tremendous effect on my daily  life.  I have had to slow down (I can’t even make a quick stop to the grocery store — everything takes time!).  I have had to accept pain. I have had to learn to listen to my body and respect its limits. I have had to find the inner strength to meet my daily commitments, using crutches at work and wearing an orthopedic boot as needed. I have had to learn to be content NOT going anywhere (traveling).

Patience. Self Love. Acceptance. Limitations. Contentment. Letting Go. My body is my teacher. Will I bring love or frustration to the situation? It’s a constant dialogue.

Usually, I would reflect on my year in terms of “what have I done/what have I accomplished or achieved?” But this year, my 50th year of life, the question changed. It was more of a year of coming to a deeper, interior relationship with myself and what was going on in my life. In all of it — my continual sleep issues, dealing with my toe pain, having to push myself and meet my work commitments, supporting my mother through many health issues, and my lack of creative fulfillment — I have found new things emerging.

In the darkness, there has been light. In the pain, I have found merciful and compassionate love. In the disappointment, I have found the calling for acceptance and detachment. In the anxiety, I have heard the call to trust and sense that God is with me. And in the feeling of failure, I have caught the glimpse of fullness.

This year, I joined a weekly mediation group and I was finally able to forgive and let go of some family pain. I also began to see how valuable “letting go” really is and have ended the year with the commitment to stop chasing a fixed solution to my sleep inconsistencies. I have come to realize that everything is ultimately about my relationship to it.

In all that happened and didn’t happen, my spirit is growing and healing and loving and living. Nothing can take that away!

Can gratitude become the foundation of my life? Recently my brother was in town during the Thanksgiving holiday. He is a good guy and I am glad we could spend time together. But after he left,  the old demon of comparison had me in its grip. My brother was fortunate enough to make enough money early in his career so he doesn’t have to stress about an income anymore. Of course, I wish that was my story, but it isn’t.

After he left, I could hear the laundry list of disappointments growing in my head. I talked about it with my husband, who also expressed his own frustrations. The more we carried on with the conversation, the darker the room became and the thicker the air felt. And, as though a bell rang, a loud school bell, I realized that I was just being destructive. That my response was old and familiar and completely unsatisfying. I was not being grateful!

“I am going to destroy my life with this ungrateful response,” I said. I opened the window in the bedroom and began to toss all the negative, ungrateful responses out the window. “Goodbye,” we both said.

I have become so clear that a lack of gratitude will destroy me and those around me — it will steal my spirit and leave me out in the cold. It’s not the right response to the gift of life. Now, every day, I am nurturing gratitude by keeping a thankfulness journal. I jot down in the morning or the evening, 5 things I am grateful for. Since the Christmas season is one of gift giving, I have chosen to really receive the absolute gift of my life and say Thank You!

In the last 24 hours, my emotions had become heightened and were spinning out of control. I am feeling anxiety over my mother’s health decline and the uncertainty of her well being. So I know deep inside I am worried and even fearful. Now, I am a firm believer that it’s important to feel my emotions and give room to them. If I need to cry, I will cry. And I am comfortable sharing my feelings with the appropriate people. I am fortunate to have great sisters to talk to regularly.

However, there are times when I am spilling over and I need to get a handle on my emotions. I need to find my inner stability again. No one can do this for me, and I notice when I am leaning too heavily on my husband that it’s time to stop, turn inward, and strengthen my own resources.

What to do? STOP. And break the cycle at any point. That was one of the best pieces of advice I ever received. Stop a cycle at any point in the cycle. Forgive. Let go. And move on. It’s hard for me, but once I take the first step, the next step follows. I need to move ahead with Hope.

So for today, I spent more time being quiet — not being on the cell phone as much, and also not going on the internet and browsing around. I took time to sit quietly, to practice body relaxation, and the reflect on my behavior. I decided to turn in the direction of love.

I realize that the power of love has so many gifts. It eases the grip of fear, strengthens trust in life, and helps me face my feelings with more stability. It is a place I can turn to rest and renew myself. I need to bring love in and let it be my source.

How are you allowing the gifts of love to support you in your life? Are you loving yourself today? Are you making choices to relate to yourself and your life from a place of love?

On my first day of being 50, it turns out my 87-year old mother is admitted to the hospital. We had just spent a weekend celebrating my birthday, with my sisters and my mother, sharing in delicious meals, laughing together, and going through the usual ups and downs, and joys and tensions, of being a family. In the end, we were all truly grateful to be together and to know we had the love and support of one another.

My mother grew very tired over the weekend. We noticed the change, but thought it was due to the excitement and emotions of the weekend. When I was about to leave and fly out early in the afternoon, I asked my mother if she was alright. She just claimed to be very tired. But later that evening my mother needed to be taken to the hospital — turns out she had an infection and her heart beat was irregular.

Throughout the week, I have faced intense worry and sadness. And only after a few days have I been able to meet this experience with more equanimity. I remind myself what Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist monk, has said many times, in the 5 remembrances: I am of the nature to grow old; I am of the nature to have ill health; everyone and everything is of the nature to change.

As I enter 50, I am meeting this realization, and rather than panic, or even tell myself that the weekend was too much for her, or even try to feel a false sense of control by understanding the medical reasons behind her current physical condition (which I do), there is a strong calling to let go and see the nature of life. Right now, I am taking more time to reflect and find more inner strength and remember in the nature of life itself.

Just this morning, I was writing in my notebook. I am born to experience loss. It struck me. Yes, I am born to experience happiness and joy, but I am also born into the human story of loss. Together we share in this journey.

There really is a cycle of life. I just turned fifty and I am meeting creation — and it has its own terms. So how do we encounter this meeting of time and nature? I move between openness and anxiety. I think the more I can cultivate the openness to receive the mystery of life, the better I can encounter this meeting. It’s all a grand play that I am a part of it, beyond what I can ever fully grasp.

I had the joy of being with my family over the weekend, as my sisters shepherded me into the next decade. I had the gift of being with my eighty-seven year old mother. But I could see how much she was declining. Her breathing was more labored, and when she held me I could hear the strain in her lungs. I remember feeling that with my father during his last days. I just embraced her and soaked in the love between us. So much had happened. So much pain. So much joy.

Over the weekend, I ended up facing some deep-seated childhood pain (abandonment, lack of resources), and I was angry at my mother. Then, I decided to say to mother how much I appreciated her: all the support and encouragement and acceptance she had given me during my adult years. I sat there, as her saggy skin was trembling, and her heart was weak, and her eyes were watery, and told her all the things I appreciated about our relationship and said thank you for all of it. The moment was there and I could only meet it full on. It was time to bring the pain and joy together. It was all there in me.

Now, back home, my task is not to be anxious and afraid about the future, about what will happen to her. Or to me. Or to anyone. It’s a beautiful day, and I am going on a bike ride along the coast, opening myself wider and wider to the cycle of life.

Great is the overflow of Divine Love which is never still but ever ceaselessly and tirelessly pours forth, so that our little vessel is filled to the brim and overflows. If we do not choke the channel with self-will, Divine gifts continue to flow and over flow.

–Mechthild of Magdeburg. 13th century, German mystic and writer.

So can this quote hold any meaning for us? How do we experience and trust the flow of divine love in us? What helps us to have patience with a child who is crying and is having a hard time expressing herself? What gives us the gentleness to not become frustrated when the sink is full of dishes and it’s the end of a long day and dinner needs to be made? What gives us the love we need to support ourselves through a difficult night of not sleeping well, or a nagging pain in a shoulder or foot?

The energy of love is always moving through us if we can let it flow.

Find a quiet place to sit and close your eyes.

Bring your attention to your breathing.

The in-breath. The out-breath.

Give yourself time to settle down.

And give yourself time to feel a warmth in your heart.

In the center of your being.

There is the Divine presence dwelling within you.

Let yourself open up to it.

Breathing. Radiating. Opening your heart to Divine Love.

Your essence is love.

No matter what’s whirling around you.

Once again, I am ending the day with my feet in a bucket of cold, icy water, trying to tame the inflammation in my toes. I noticed the week had both good days with my toes and difficult days with my toes. I think when I put expectations on my body, I crash, because I become frustrated with the process and uneven patterns. And I don’t want to be patient, and handle the whole experience, both the pain and the easing up of pain. There are degrees to most things, but when I don’t want to accept that I back myself into a corner. I lock myself into a room and I can’t open the door.

So how do I keep the door open, but acknowledge the truth of what is happening without all the anxiety and fear? It sounds obvious, but by staying in the moment, and not projecting ahead.

And laughter does help! Even in the midst of tears. The other night, my husband and I had so much fun rewriting the classic: Goodnight Moon, to Goodnight Fifty! Instead of saying goodnight to a comb, and a brush and a bowl of mush, we said goodnight to tendonitis in our shoulders and toes, goodnight to retirement worries, goodnight to stock market loses, goodnight to sore muscles and aching backs, and goodnight to gray hair and dry skin.

Just laughing at ourselves in a fun way was a relief. I think I have to continue to step back, and move away from the fear (where is this going? will it ever go away?), and just be in the journey of the days, some easier, some more difficult. And continue to love and laugh as I go along…

Now that I am almost fifty, I’m beginning to remember more things that my parents told me when they were in their middle years. Or should I say, I am beginning to understand more what some of the things they said actually mean. My father was always one to say how important it was to put resources into the spiritual bank (as he called it).

When my parents were in their 50s, they faced the need to rebuild their lives, and they needed as much inner strength as possible. Over the years, I saw my parents go on many personal retreats, spend more time in prayer, and also engage in psychological processes. Slowly, my father became less angry, even though he always had a moodiness to him that could flare up, and my mother became less angry, and her spiritual life blossomed.

“Build your inner resources,” my parents would say. “They will come in handy as you get older.”

And how true that has already become for me — with this toe tendonitis, I have had to go inward and seek perseverance, acceptance and patience. As well as seeking out appropriate treatments, there are many moments when there is nothing to do but ‘let go,’ and be in what is.

Just this morning I was reading some passages from a book my Thomas Keating, the contemporary American monk, who revitalized a Christian form of meditation called centering prayer. He states: Divine union is not the achievement of some perfection of our own or an escape from our external problems, but is the radical change of attitude that enables us to deal effectively with our weaknesses and our problems.

It struck me how he asserts that relating to many aspects of our lives takes a radical change of attitude. But it has to start from a turning inside of us, in our hearts, with complete openness to accepting and loving ourselves, totally, with grace.