Complaint-full

I fell off the complaint-free wagon the other day and can’t seem to make myself get back on just yet.  I haven’t exactly been ranting non-stop, but I have been letting a bit of whining slip out here and there.

I’ve been watching myself, watching what happens when I become irritated.  I’ve been reflecting a lot on where the irritation comes from and how I might transmute it.  Sometimes the best I can do is think back on that Thich Nhat Hanh video and say softly and slowly to myself, ” I know that I am irritated. I am taking good care of my irritation.”

The Power of Now and other teachings that have been granting me sanity and salvation over the past couple of months are all about becoming one with the present moment. Welcome the present moment, no matter in what disguise it comes.  That has been working very well for me.  It has been keeping me from going bat shit crazy while I–a loner–tried to survive in a house of five that includes one emotionally rather high-maintenance extrovert who will remain nameless.  Hint: it’s not Sylvain.

Yet–in spite of how effective and rewarding the BECOME ONE WITH THE PRESENT and BE WHERE YOU ARE stuff has been…  I have…

it’s true…

I’ve slipped.

Today I just didn’t want to be here.  Today I was just like one of those trapped-in-mind people that Tolle affectionately mocks in his videos.  They think, “This isn’t supposed to be happening! This isn’t right!”  Pathetic wretches. Their lives pass them by while they are making other plans.

Today I was one of those wretches to be affectionately mocked as my breathing and being here now and lovingly accepting what is and not complaining fell by the wayside.

I visited Annie O’s blog and gazed at the green water and white sand.  I need more green water and white sand in my life.

I visited Elspeth’s blog and yearned for the quiet darkness inside the cathedral. I yearned for her swim in the ocean and the yearning was so real, it shook my body and brought tears.

I visited Suki’s blog and wondered what it would be like to look out my back window and see wild turkeys crossing the snow, a stand of trees behind them the source of the call of Great Horned Owls each night.

I visited Annie B’s blog and remembered with great fondness my very first apartment all my own. It was in this neighbourhood.

“I need to get out,” I said to Sylvain. And we darted out for the hour I could spare between the last load of laundry and needing to start the potatoes.

Today was my cooking day and I knew how important it was for me to shake off that “I wish I were not here” feeling before I started handling the food.  I had to cook with love energy, not resistance to what is energy.  Otherwise the unlove would go into the food and the family would eat that unlove.  I didn’t want that.

But I couldn’t or didn’t shake it and the dish did burn. Of course it did… we all knew it would. Even though you supposedly cannot burn things using a crock pot. Apparently you can… if there’s enough unlove in the room.

Thank you to Mother Wintermoon for recommending Anneli Rufus’ book and to Suki for pointing me to her website.  I have ordered A Party of One along with The Introvert Advantage and Eat Pray Love.  I am looking forward to lots of juicy (supportive and helpful) reading soon.

Dream: Apple Seeds and Crickets

I only remember a snippet from my dreams two nights ago.  I was trying to plant apple trees but the area of black earth where I was trying to sow the apple seeds–an area that seemed to be the inside of a barn with one side open to the elements–was covered in crickets. I tried dropping a few seeds among the crickets and remember wondering if the seeds needed to be pushed into the soil or could be dropped on the surface like that.

I tried Googling apple tree symbolism and came up with spiritual growth.  I couldn’t find much about crickets as symbols.

Boundaries and Introversion

Since ending analysis, I’ve lost some ground on some things. I see that.  My once-conquered phone phobia has come back and turned into something I no longer fight but now accept as a quirk. I don’t like phones and use them only when absolutely necessary.  Might that change over time as other things change? Sure.  But for now, there it is.

When I was doing depth work with a Jungian analyst, I made all kinds of progress with several neuroses that had been with me since childhood. Certain complexes evaporated overnight after just a few sessions talking about dreams that related to those complexes. Some of the things that happened to me during those 3.5 years were nothing short of miraculous in my estimation.

I remember remarking one day to Anna that the more I honed healthy boundary skills, the less introverted I became. Not that I don’t believe I am by nature an introvert. I am and probably always will be one who recharges her batteries by being alone. But I did experience a shift in the degree of my introversion once I started communicating boundaries more directly and honestly and clearly with others.

Being in the world with people became less taxing. It became easier.

And so I no longer needed to retreat into my little house for such long periods or as often. My batteries were not as drained, and so did not need as much recharging via solitude.

Workaholism and Mindfulness

I miss work.

I found myself once or twice today wishing I did not have today off. Then I remembered Eckhart Tolle’s funny videos on YouTube where he’s illustrating in his elfish little way what it looks like to be resisting the Now. Sylvain and I slip into falsetto and mimic Tolle’s “I’m here but I want to be there,” when we are in slow traffic or any situation that threatens to annoy us unless we stop and remind ourselves to be present. This weekend it happened when we picked the line at the grocery store that was three times slower than any other.

“I’m here but I want to be there!” one of us said, and we both laughed and became one with what was in that moment. Don’t let the mind turn it into a problem. It’s just a situation to be experienced fully. Gosh, life gets easier once you start this practice!

And so I sat and studied my wish to be somewhere I wasn’t.

I used to be quite the workaholic. My coworkers would often tell me, “GO HOME!”

I would say, “Why? There is nobody waiting for me at home. I don’t have a dog that needs to be let out to pee. I’m just as happy here.”

Why would work become such a safe haven for someone like me? I think I can answer that.

First you have to understand that–with one or two short-lived exceptions–I’ve had nothing but dream jobs. I was a library clerk surrounded by the politically liberal and artistically creative, serving the homeless while they sought shelter from the elements, recommending books and satisfying my obsessive-compulsive need to put things in order by Dewey decimal number.

I was office manager of an independent bookstore. No need to elaborate on that one!

I have never had to punch a clock nor count the number of minutes I spent getting another cup of tea. I’ve sat in expensive ergonomic chairs and made maintenance staff come back with their screw drivers again and again until all my angles (knee, elbow, etc.) were a perfect 90 degrees. And if I did get a stiff neck from long hours at the computer screen, I just went for massages paid for by employer-paid health benefits.

I know how blessed I’ve been.

So you see the surroundings were cushy. Now add to that the fact that I–with my social anxiety and poor boundary skills and love of rules–felt SAFER within the four walls of my workplace than out in the world.

Once you are at work, you are protected. You are living in a somewhat contrived world. A human resources manager, in compliance with employment laws, has created a set of policies, procedures and rules that guarantee a pleasant and humane environment in which to spend those 8 hours a day. You can have serious gaps in your social skills, suck at setting boundaries and still find a way to thrive at work. The world outside the glass doors, however, is another story entirely. It is an unpredictable world with surprises and challenges around every corner.

Disidentifying from ego helps me release age-old fears. Hiding in ones work is a response to fear. If you are no longer chained to ego and its stories, how can you be afraid to set boundaries with others? If you are setting healthy boundaries in your personal life, there will be no need to run and hide in the safe bubble of the workplace.

The fact that I DO want to spend all my time there… that is a huge indication that there are aspects of my personal life that need tending.

Perfectionism and Watching the Ego

Pa has Parkinson’s. One of the unfortunate effects of this disease can be hallucinations. There have been a couple of times when he had to check with another family member to see if there really was an old man sitting at the breakfast table, or if a horse-drawn carriage really had just passed by on the street.

He has to take our word on it. The old man at the table wasn’t real. The horse-drawn buggy wasn’t real. He trusts us to tell him the truth. He has no choice but to trust us.

In a similar fashion, when Buddhist teachers and Eckhart Tolle and others tell me that the little me I think of as Kelly isn’t real, I believe them. They have not lied to me about all the other things that I could verify through my own experience. Through listening and reading and learning about the whole anatomy of Source versus Self, I have come to agree that the being I think of as Kelly is a man-made construct, a jumble of stories around a thought. Only as real as my investment in it as a story.

To the degree that I identify with this jumble of stories, I open myself to much suffering in this life. To the degree that I am able to free myself from identifying with the little me and instead identify with Source, I make my way toward a place of peace. A place free from fear.

===

One of my stories goes that I am a recovering perfectionist.

Skipping the question of how I got that way (heredity? behaviour modelled for me by parents? trauma?), let’s just look at what it feels like to be a perfectionist.

It’s a pretty difficult world to live in.

To the perfectionist, every mistake or PERCEIVED mistake feels like threat of annihilation of the whole person. For me, perfectionism is part of a package that includes being terrified of abandonment, terrified of rejection, terrified of not being loved and accepted.

Growing up, I was very adept at blaming things on others or on external circumstances. My mother tells me that my father was this way, too. One day he opened the kitchen cupboard and a dish fell and broke. His reaction was automatic: to blame someone for the way they had stacked things in said cabinet. He could not let it be. Nor could he let it be nobody’s fault…just pick up the pieces, put them in the trash and get another dish. Just move on and fix your sandwich. No.

The need to place blame elsewhere is like a compulsion. When to accept imperfection or allow blame for a mistake to rest with you means to face an internal turmoil similar to the fight or flight adrenaline rush that threat of extermination triggers, you will do just about anything to avoid that. It takes a damn long time to reprogram a mind-body that has been mis-wired in this way. The mistake bone is connected to the death bone.

Over the years I’ve made some progress in healing my perfectionism. I have made great progress in some contexts while almost no progress in other contexts. For example, thanks to a supervisor who was herself a perfectionist, I got over perfectionism in the workplace. No matter how well I did something, I came to expect her to go over each of four subsequent drafts with a red pen and always find something else that needed changing. The only way I could keep my sanity and work there was if I taught myself not to take her corrections personally. I had to learn to differentiate between her critique of the wording of a memo I’d written and evaluation of my BEING, my right to breathe in and out and take up space on the planet.

Years after that, I began making a bit of progress with aversion to rejection in romantic relationships. Were you to look at my life’s history and the patterns in my relationships, you could easily conclude that I’ve been addicted to relationships. Particularly, I have been good at starting relationships. I have not been so adept when it came to sustaining relationships. And I was always the one to leave.

I remember the first time I experienced having someone ditch ME. Wow. I remember bringing that to my Jungian analyst with great pride. I’ve been dumped! Holy Hannah, I have been dumped and I’m still here! It really isn’t the end of the world. Life goes on. What a revelation that was. I can’t tell you how much mentally healthier I felt after having experienced that rejection.

There are areas where my perfectionism has wilted to a great degree. In a work setting, I take criticism well. I don’t blame my mistake on my trainer for teaching me wrong, even if she did. I don’t make excuses or cringe like I did so many years ago. I thank the person for pointing out the error and I fix it.

There are areas where I am still evolving, shifting, undergoing change in how I view and react to making mistakes. The prime example would be in my relationship with my significant other. I still have difficulty admitting when I’m wrong. I have a lot of trouble swallowing my pride and approaching the other to see if he yet feels like talking, given the fact that he would be completely justified in telling me to piss off. I have tremendous difficulty saying, “I am sorry that I hurt you.”

It is so difficult for me to say those words that I will shroud myself in a thick, cold armour and shut down all emotions rather than force myself to be an adult and say those words.

The final frontier, the area where I have made no noticeable progress, is in my friendships. I still don’t know how to initiate a talk with a friend when the air needs clearing about something. I will let the friendship die unless the other person recognizes the need for a talk and starts that talk.

Where am I going with all this? I am just pondering perfectionism at this time when I am learning about the effects of dis-identifying with ego and mind. Perfectionism is purely product of ego and mind. When I briefly achieve a state of no-mind, there is no perfectionism.

I wonder… if I stick with these new practices of breathing and being present and dis-identifying with mind, will I have breakthroughs with perfectionism in those other areas where I’ve been stuck for so long?

Breathing Day 56, Not Complaining Day 1

Question: how can I ever get more than 23 or 24 or 25 consecutive days under my GWCC belt when my average menstrual cycle is anywhere from 24 to 28 days? How will I ever make it through the two to three days of irritability I experience the week before onset of menses?

Yes, I griped. I criticized. I whined. Would you believe I even yelled? I yelled. Mind you, the person (Sylvain) to whom I yelled was one storey and several rooms away and had just hollered out to me.  But I yelled back WITH ATTITUDE.

There was tension between us all day, which erupted in minor yet noticeable ways throughout the day.

By 6:30, I was ready to call it a day and just crawl off to bed.  Before I fell asleep, I invited Sylvain into my room in case he wanted to talk instead of going to sleep still at odds with one another.

So we talked.  I am pre-menstrual and he didn’t put his rock in his pocket yesterday.  He almost never skips moving his haematite crystal  from yesterday’s pants pocket to today’s pants pocket.  Yet yesterday he’d thought to himself, “It’s just a rock. It’s power to keep me grounded is all in my mind.”

“Every rock has a different vibration,” I offered.  “Why do you think they put quartz crystals in watches?”

Rocks do have powers.

Hormones are pretty powerful, too.

Breathing Day 53, Not Complaining Day 23

This is pretty cool stuff. To guard my complaint-free status means to guard my self-care. It means to breathe. It means to be present. It means not to sweat the small stuff (and it’s all small stuff).

When I feel myself about to get cranky, I ask myself what I need in that moment that I have not procured for myself. Is it water? Is it alone time? Is it food? Is it enough sleep? Whatever it is, I go for that rather than letting myself slip into the cranky mood.

I watch my silly mind, I watch my crazy ego.

Ego isn’t just about thinking you’re especially important or the centre of the universe. Ego is also the one responsible for feelings of inadequacy, feelings that you are not important enough or do not have a right to ask for this or that. This block of time alone. That bubble bath. A massage. A walk in the park while someone else does the dishes that night, or they are left in the sink.

My mind has gone from being my master to being a source of constant amusement. It still tries to feed me stories, tries to rope me into believing this or that. But it gives up quickly these days. It knows I am no longer a believer of its tall tales and fancy fabrications.

Kelly, your ass is huge, it says.

Ha ha ha, I say. My ass is what it is. I am alive and I am Love and I am breathing.

Kelly, you are spending too much money on clothes, it says.

Ha ha ha, I say. My spending right now is what it is. The swing of the pendulum is interesting…from frugal matchstick girl to clothes horse. Who cares? Nothing lasts for that long in the world of form. Would you like to build a story out of this? Would you like to trigger emotions in me around this story? I am not finding it that interesting, thank you anyway.

I listen to my coworkers vent about difficult callers. Let it be. Let them vent.

“All my callers have been very courteous, even the ones I had to inform of non-payable portions of their claims,” I offer, then return to my work.

Sometimes when I am floating above a situation, releasing likes and dislikes, I get a flash through my mind of what my old reaction might have been. I would have whined about this. I would have become manipulative around that. I would let that hurt my feelings. I would have sulked. I would have held a grudge for an hour.

The energy around me feels so light and easy and clear now that when I start to slip back into that state where my thoughts and emotions are slaves to ego, it feels dirty, tangled, heavy. I instantly see that not only do I cause those around me needless suffering, I bog myself down in an icky cloud of yuck. Sometimes I just want to indulge in one little complaint. But I stop and imagine what the words will feel like coming out of my mouth, how the other person will be affected by those words, how the energy of our whole day and the energy filling the room will be burdened by those words and that emotion. I project forward an hour, two hours and feel the price I will pay for that silly, egoistic indulgence.

Waking up in the morning is getting easier.

This is my first full winter off anti-depressants in six or seven years. I am doing fine.

When I first wake up and the mind machine is churning out all that existential chewing and musing and angst, I stop and breathe. I remind myself:

You don’t need to know WHY you are supposed to get up and rejoin the world another day. Just think of it like this. Say God is throwing a big dance and you’re invited. You don’t have to know ahead of time why you’re invited or if it’s a surprise party just for you or if you’ll be asked to cut cake or take tickets or mop the floor. All you need to know is that God put YOUR NAME on one of the invitations. Just show up.

Then I pull myself from the bed and pad into the bathroom to turn on the shower. I look very closely at the skin on the back of my hand. This is the miracle–the holy Now. Don’t fret what’s next, just be here. This is all that is asked of you…not to have a good day or be a particularly wonderful person or make lots of money or win a Nobel Prize or have straight teeth. Just be as present as you can in each sweet moment of life.

Christmas M Word

Storyteller has tagged me for twelve random Christmas things about me. Ok, this should be fun. The rules are:

1. List 12 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas
2. Please refer to it as a ‘hoopla’ and not the dreaded ‘m’-word (which, for you bloggy newbies, is meme)
3. You have to specifically tag people when you’re done. None of this “if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged” stuff is allowed…then nobody ends up actually doing it. The number of people who you tag is really up to you — but the more, the merrier to get this ‘hoopla’ circulating through the Blogosphere.
4. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it and I’d like to get as many people involved as possible.

1. Four years ago I decided to stop celebrating Christmas.

2. I send cards with a solstice-kwanzaa-chanukkah-happynewyear-christmas message.

3. Instead of giving me a gift, I ask my mom to make a donation to Heifer Project International. Somewhere in the world, a family has received a pair of goats in my name.

4. My favourite Christmas memory from childhood is of the year we bought a live tree and later planted it in the yard. Today it towers over that house.

5. This year I decided to go with the flow and not excuse myself from whatever Christmas rituals and traditions were being observed around me, both at home and at work.

6. My desk at work has been covered in decorations and I am expected to don an elf hat on the day the judges come around to decide which team wins the decorating contest.

7. Today I attended a Christmas gift exchange at work, though I was not yet employed by the company when names were drawn. An AVP went out and got me a gift…a beautiful dark brown sleeveless turtleneck and some sock-slippers.

8. I missed the company Christmas party by one week, but today was informed of how lavish it is… open bar, black tie affair at a country club, the entire cost coming directly out of the owners’ pockets.

9. Today while I was donating blood (on company time), a nurse and I agreed we both would prefer to serve dinner at a soup kitchen than attend a big family gathering.

10. Nevertheless, I will be PRESENT for Sylvain’s annual holiday dinner. I will attend willingly and cheerfully.

11. Sylvain has wrapped something like five gifts for me and put them under the tree. I am not allowed to shake them.

12. I have bought one thing for Sylvain and have not wrapped it yet.

I hereby tag Jennifer, Rick, Brandi, Annie B and Sylvain.

Hafez Mural

The response to the video has left me stunned. It was my first time to be videotaped since university speech class 20+ years ago, and I was nervous. When I watch it, it strikes me as less than authentic because I slip into a persona when I’m nervous. Also as soon as I said the word “mama,” my dialect changed! That happens when I read aloud, for some reason. Reading aloud triggers the Southern dialect.

The YouTube video got posted to very top of a digest of interesting links about Iran and/or Persian, resulting in the video being viewed over 1000 times in two days. Via Sylvain’s YouTube account, I’ve received a stack of comments from Iranian viewers, the majority of whom just want to tell me that I am just so darned cute, and that I pronounce gh and kh well. Sylvain seems to be getting a kick out of updating me on how many people have added me to favourites, how many stars the video has, and how many viewers have subscribed to see future videos he produces. One person offered to help me with Farsi anytime I get stuck, and one sent a link to this poem by Hafez (sometimes spelled Hafiz). I just had to share it with you.

My First Video: Farsi Primer

If you would like to read any of the stories that make up the background to this post, such as how I got interested in Persian culture, where I met my first Iranian friends or how to make delicious Persian dishes, just click the “Persia and Things Persian” category on my sidebar and read bottom to top.

Thank you, Sylvain, for doing all the techie stuff for me: recording, producing, uploading and all of that.

Tortured Fish Dream after Gorging

I’m on chapter 12 of Transformational Weight Loss, the book Olivia read, along with The Yoga of Eating.

Yesterday was order in night and I watched myself as I consumed three times more food than I actually wanted. I was smiling and shoveling while the voice of consciousness asked, almost amused, I wonder what she is doing? It felt like a need for control. It definitely was not about being hungry after the first helping.

I spent the rest of the evening marvelling at what I had done. I didn’t invite in any feelings of guilt. I was just observing. Well, when you eat three times more than you want, your abdomen sticks out THIS FAR, I thought as I passed my hands over my tummy, rubbing it like a lucky Buddha belly. Is this what it feels like to be four months pregnant, I wondered.

I got indigestion, needless to say, and so took some antacids.

I fell asleep with the sweet and sour chicken, rice, green peppers and onions gurgling and churning in my round tummy.

I dreamt about my step-father. I don’t dream about him very much anymore. Before working through those issues in Jungian analysis, I had horrible nightmares every week starring my sociopath step-father. Last night I dreamt I had come home to the old house where we lived in LR and saw that he had been fishing. The fish destined for that night’s meal were propped up on stakes around the yard, were inflated like balloons and were gasping for air. It made me sick to see these creatures suffering. That was typical of R. He had no compassion whatsoever for anyone’s suffering…not for a dog or a cat or his wife or any being.

What is R’s essence? That’s what my analyst would ask if we were about to untangle the messages of last night’s dream.

“He is the ultimate control freak,” is how I might begin to describe him.

Yes, last night’s binge felt like a grab for control.

I woke up from my nasty step-father torturing fish dream feeling that old existential angst that hasn’t bothered me in many months. It was back. We are all going to be dead pretty soon was one thought that flashed through my brain before I opened my eyes. It’s true of course. Ma and Pa and Sylvain and his sister and I… we are not even a blip on the radar of creation.

I opened my eyes.

Remind me again why this matters, I said to the field of Now. This getting out of bed thing,… why must I?

Then I remembered that the purpose of life isn’t something to be grasped by the mind. So I took some deep breaths and headed to the shower.

When you finish your rice, wash your bowl.

I use that mantra a lot to help me put one foot in front of the other and just get on with the business of life.

I went upstairs and lay around some more while Sylvain was getting dressed. I curled up on his bed holding my still distended belly and felt the repurcussions of my gluttony. Anxiety. Depression.

That is what chapter 12 is all about. FEEL the consequences of your choice. Stay with the feelings. Experience them.

So today I felt the sluggishness. I felt the indigestion. I felt the distension.

Interestingly, there was part of me that wanted to start today with maple cream cookies. I stopped long enough to realize my body was not hungry for that, rather I was about to reach for that in an attempt to numb the uncomfortable emotions from the previous day’s gorge.

So I had one egg and some tea, attempting to be gentle and loving toward myself. I would like to forgive myself for betraying my body and stuffing it with more food than it wanted or needed.

Still I feel as if yesterday’s food choice is like a fishing net entangling me; I’ve not yet cut my way out.

Feel that. Feel that.

Just Being

I didn’t think I would like having a male supervisor.  I’ve had around ten female managers and only once was directly supervised by a man.  There is one thing I really dread in the world of work, and that is having to work for someone who isn’t very smart. I can work for someone who isn’t very smart, but only if she knows what she doesn’t know and is okay with that.  If she is wise enough to surround herself with smart people and acknowledges that she needs those people, I can deal with that.  If she (or he) is secure enough to be able to admit her weak areas rather than be threatened by smart people, I can handle it.  But if the person is insecure, then working with him/her becomes stressful and labourious, because you have to do your job AND worry about the boss’ ego all the time.

I am thrilled because my new boss is smart. Super smart.  Like very, very smart.  I have worked for super smart people before, and I know that it makes the job at least three times more enjoyable.  Plus he doesn’t have ego issues.  Whew.

Today my supervisor came to me and said, “you know macros, right?”

“Yep!” I said, hardly believing my good fortune…to be asked to use my OTHER skills so early on.

“In Excel, right?”

“Yes, especially in Excel,” I said, wondering if I was going to get to edit some script or debug a program or just what.

He asked me to follow him into his office and showed me the spreadsheet he was having problems with.  It was the result of a huge import of data from a PDF file and dozens of pages long.  Unfortunately, one column of data had landed properly, divided into separate rows, but the next column over had all the figures dumped into one merged cell.  The challenge was to get column B’s data parsed out and aligned with the separate rows like column A.

I’ve had this exact problem placed in my lap once before and could not solve it.  But I love a challenge, so I asked him to send it to me so I could play and brainstorm.

I tried DATA > Text to Columns and found that delimiting with spaces didn’t work. But–Glory, Halelujah–there was a dollar sign after every piece of data that should have been in its own row. I marked the DELIMITER TYPE: OTHER box and put a $ sign in the delimiter box, hit NEXT and voila! Each number was in its own cell.  Then it was just a matter of copying it and using PASTE SPECIAL, Transpose to change it from columns to rows. Mind you, I would have to do this over and over as many times as there were pages in the report, but it sure beat having someone type in every single number from scratch.

When I popped back to his office to say, “I got it,” he said, “No. Let me see.”  As I started to show him Text to Columns, he said, almost impatiently, “Yes, yes, I already tried that.”

Then he saw the $ used as the delimiter.  He smiled.  I just saved him having to ask a data entry person to enter the 50 pages of numbers by hand, complete with inevitable typos.

Yeah, my job is fun already.  I get to do investigating, like yesterday when I had a doctor’s name and phone number and the fact that said doctor was somewhere in India.  That’s all I had. But (Bless Google) ten minutes later I had the man’s clinic address and email address so I could send a request for the past medical history.

And today a caller asked me in French, “Parlez vous Francais?”  I had to say “Moi non, mai… uh…” and noticing that our Francophone examiner was at lunch, asked “votre numero de telephone, s’il vous plait?” The woman was very patient with me, understood that my French was limited and bid me “au revoir” after I took her number down.

At the dinner table I got Sylvain to teach me how to say, “I will transfer you to Jennifer, she speaks French.”

Sylvain can’t believe the transformation that has come over me since starting my job.  I don’t know if rays of rainbow-coloured light are shooting out of my body, but I suspect I am a bit sparkly these days. And bouncy. A little bit bouncy.

I’m trying to remember to breathe, though. It’s not wise to become identified with the content or form during so called good times any more than it is wise to become identified with the content during so called hard times.

On my breaks, I close the bathroom stall door behind me and remember to breathe. Remember, Kel, that your value doesn’t come from what formulae you know or what problems you can solve.

Just being is enough.

Breathing, Working, Not Complaining

Just dashing off this short note as I head off to bed super early having achieved tonight’s goal of reading everyone’s blog. Even though I went to bed at 9:30 last night, I awoke not yet fully rested and almost fell asleep in the upstairs lounge with my book after lunch. So tonight’s bedtime is 8:30.

One of the highlights of my day was finding a new blog that I love. Thank you, Suki, for introducing us!

Plan for this weekend is to get Sylvain to make a video of me for the blog. He doesn’t know how to compress, so if you are adept at making vlogs, would you offer yourself as a resource?

All my love love love love to you!!!

Miracle = Shift of Perception

That is what I am reading in A Return to Love.  If you want a miracle, and last night as I lay down to sleep I very much wanted one, you pray for a shift in perception and declare that you are willing to see things differently.

One of the things I contemplated last night was the possibility that God wants me there at that company at this time, and perhaps not just for my growth, though certainly this job will force me to grow and stretch (and get past my phone phobia, for one).  I took my focus in another direction, entertaining the possibility that there may be someone in that building, or maybe someone not in that building who will be in contact with me by phone or mail in the next months, who may be in need of healing.  And maybe I hold one of the missing puzzle pieces for this person’s journey.

I tried focusing on that… the notion that my energy could be used by the Universe to help someone else.

Last night I was feeling vulnerable and afraid.  So I asked Sylvain if he would take me to the store to get some comforting things I can have at my desk. I needed a lunch bag, a water bottle, some hand lotion and some seed/nut bars to keep in my desk for break time.  I got a box of Earl Grey tea, too.

So today I headed off better armed than the day before. I even had a lunch packed.

And when Sylvain dropped me off at work 20 minutes early, I decided that even though my predecessor had to leave suddenly to see her OBGYN and didn’t get a chance to pack up her things, I would find a box and pack them all up for her so I could settle into the desk myself.  Dusting the desk and taking down all her orange and yellow stickies made me feel better.  I was very respectful as I put her red licorice and boxes of tea and gum and lotto tickets and sweater into a box for her.

I threw out piles and piles of old scratch pads with obsolete phone messages on them. I arranged things the way I wanted them.

My trainer hadn’t got around to teaching me to use the phone yesterday. The poor woman is trying to stay on top of her work load while training me. It isn’t easy, and some of the things I need her to show me, things our manager has asked her to show me, we just didn’t find time for on day one.

So today I was a tiny bit more assertive. Instead of just waiting for her to find a convenient time to sit with me as I watched the hands of the clock slip closer and closer to quitting time, I came out and said, “what time would you like to sit together?”  That worked great. She named a time and we stuck to it.  I got answers to questions like, “on what drive do I store my letter templates” and “can I get a lamp for my desk?”

Another thing that was HUGE for me today was realizing that some of the anxiety I was experiencing I had picked up directly from my trainer. It is a person whose energy that is slightly off kilter, unsure, hesitant, worried, overly cautious.  I was taking a couple of her views of things as department policy, when in fact they are not at all.  In two instances my inclination on how to handle a case, though not validated by my trainer, was later fully affirmed when I overheard our manager discussing those decisions with her.

Whew! That was the main thing that had me so worried.  I knew I couldn’t survive and stay sane in a place where policy contravenes common sense, especially if I have to represent illogical stances to clients on the phone.  Now I see what is simply one person’s energy and I have pulled myself back from that confused energy into a place of more clarity and groundedness.

In the meantime, the most mysterious and wonderful thing happened.  A woman not in our department walked down my aisle and asked me how I was faring. I gave her a cheery smile and said fine.  I could not for the life of me remember who she was or when we’d been introduced.  She is not one of the receptionists, I know their names.   She told me that new jobs are a big adjustment, that it takes a while to get acclimated to a whole new place with all new people.  “Every day will be easier,” she said and, touching my shoulder, walked away.

An angel!

Frivolity Courtesy of Carla

I am feeling much better after day two of new job than I was yesterday.  In fact, how about a silly meme right about now? I got this from Carla (Zena Moon).

Do you own a gun?
No

What do you think of hot dogs?
Haven’t eaten one since I discovered what’s in them.
What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
I reach for the water bottle beside the bed first thing. Once I’m up, I have Earl Grey tea or–in winter–Camino cocoa dark, to which I may or may not add stevia.

Can you do push-ups?
Probably not.

What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
A pin/pendant made by a couple of artists in Ithaca, NY who are married to one another. She paints miniature scenes on glass and he mounts them in tiny metal frames which he works by cutting and stamping patterns into the metal. The one I have is a tuxedo cat among flowers. It reminds me of my late cat, Zelus.

What is your secret weapon to lure the opposite sex?
I am not into luring.
Middle name?
Ann

Name three thoughts at this exact moment:

1. I wonder what email just came (heard the ding)
2. My foot is asleep
3. Am I drinking enough water?

What time did you wake up today?
5:20 a.m.

Current hate?
No hates

Name three drinks you regularly drink:

1. Water
2. Earl Grey tea
3. herbal tisanes

Do you own slippers?
Yes, I’m wearing them now

What shirt are you wearing?
A tee shirt of Sylvain’s
Do you burn or tan?
Burn and freckle which can become tan when all the freckles almost join.

Favorite color(s)?
Depends if it’s for walls, wardrobe, art? I mostly enjoy dazzling juxtapositions of colours, especially warm and cool colours of the same value.

Would you be a pirate?
Some aspects of pirate life appeal to me, like hiding away on an island, eating mangoes and not having a social security number.

What is your favorite holiday?
Persian Solstice Celebration of Shab-e Yalda

What songs do you sing in the shower?
Sometimes silly Irish ditties like The Old Woman from Wexford
What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child?
I didn’t fear the night. I did sometimes experience out of body sensations and enjoyed floating around the upper corners of the room.
What’s in your pockets right now?
No pockets in my jamma pants.
Last thing that made you laugh?
Andrew and Sylvain talking about their foreskins on Violet’s blog.
Best bed sheets as a child?
They were all 100% cotton and groovy hippie patterns–yellow and orange daisies, blue and purple paisley, jungle animals.

Worst injury you’ve ever had?
Was dropped flat on my back by a boy who got me falling down drunk my freshman year. Have had lower back problems ever since that night.

Are your parents still together?
No, father died in 1969.

Do you wish on shooting stars?
No but I very much get a kick out of seeing meteors.

What is your favorite book(s)?
See my The Story page for books that changed my life.
What is your favorite candy?
85% dark chocolate
How is the weather outside right now?
Cold and misty and damp but I like it.
What was your first thought this morning when you woke up?
I will doze for 10 more minutes (and I did, then I got up).

I invite anyone who wants to do this meme to do it (especially Jennifer, who loves to get picked to do memes) and leave us a comment here if you do it.  If you don’t have a blog, you can do it in the comments area. Cheers!

Breathe, Just Breathe

I forgot to breathe all day.  It surely would have helped.  I was not nervous before my first day on the new job.  The HR guy asked me if I got any sleep last night and I said I got plenty.  He said he doesn’t sleep at all before a first day on a new job, he is that nervous.  I slept fine, breathing and staying in the moment, not racing ahead to what day one MIGHT hold.
Everyone around me in the office is very nice.  I met one of the company owners today and had a chat with him about where I came from and what I did at my last two jobs. My job is not hard and I am not being rushed along too quickly in the training process.  Today was nicely broken up by some time spent filling out forms for direct deposit, benefits, reading the policy manual and dress code, all that jazz.  I spent some time training, but also large chunks of time just going over the cases in my case load.  No biggie.

Yet when five o’clock came ’round and I stepped out into the cold evening air, the sudden release of tension almost caused one of those headaches. You know the ones that settle into one side right behind your eye? That kind is caused by a sudden relaxing after holding tension for a while.

Once home, after Ma’s delicious supper, Sylvain and I sneaked off to the den where he offered me a foot massage.  I just let the tears flow.  They were not tears of sadness, really. Just stress mixed with a little bit of dread and general shock.  All I wanted to do was wrap myself around Sylvain and not let go.  In fact I feel like following him around like a puppy tonight. I just want to be held. And held. And held some more.

Occasionally the various characters who live in my head get to prattling.  One says being homeless isn’t that bad.  There are shelters where one can get in out of the cold.  Another one reminds me that I am in my soul more a leaver than a taker and I will never feel completely okay trying to fit into the world of work any more than a wolf can be completely comfortable in the zoo.

Right now, in an attempt to self-soothe, I have a mint mud mask caked onto my face.  So don’t make me laugh.

Breathing Day 40, Not Complaining Day 10

Breathing mindfully helps me begin each day.  I don’t always remember to be aware of my breathing through the day, but I always remember when I’m in pain or discomfort, such as last week when I again experienced the chills and low grade fever associated with the degeneration of a part of my uterine fibroids.  Mindful breathing also helps me if I start to get nervous about something, such as the new job.

Not complaining, criticizing, gossipping or whining is without a doubt transforming my life and my relationships with people.  Others find me easier to get along with and I find myself more pleasant company, too.  It feels as if I am no longer polluting the field of energy that surrounds me.

Leave it, change it, or fully accept it.

Tonight I was reading a post by Thailand Chani and realized that one week ago I would have agreed with her 100%.  My stance was that I don’t do Christmas.  But then I was asking myself what am I going to do, go stay in a hotel until it’s over? Of course not. As much as I was hoping Sylvain’s parents would choose not to put up a tree this year since they are getting to be too old to wrangle one, they wanted one.  So again there I was asking myself, what are you going to do, vacate the house and leave them to struggle with it? Of course not.  So if I’m not going to leave and I wasn’t able to change their decision, the only sane choice left is to go with the flow.  Breathe and enjoy cutting the twine that holds the tree to the roof of the van.  Breathe and grab onto the trunk with one hand and onto a strong branch with the other gloved hand.  Breathe and work in tandem with Ma to bring the tree inside.  Breathe and cooperate.

Chani’s friend and teacher wishes to make a point that sometimes we should let go of our individual preferences for the sake of community.  One week ago I would not have understood like I understand today.  When I stood in the kitchen one morning unloading the dishwasher and contemplating totally abstaining from all Christmas rituals, it didn’t make sense.  These people love me and only look for ways to help me.  Ma once called her audiologist to reschedule an appointment so I could take the car to a job interview.  Pa apologizes in his shy way for bothering me if I help him get his coat on.  These gentle people all work together day in and day out, sharing chores, being considerate of one another.  It is harmonious and it works.  This sounds really corny, but there is no “i” in team.

When I would contemplate all the ways I could excuse myself from Christmas, there wasn’t a single way of doing it that didn’t at the least draw attention to myself and put an unnecessary awkwardness in the air and at the worst hurt their feelings.  What is Taoism all about? Going with the flow.  Be like water.  Yield.  Likes and dislikes are territory of the ego.

As soon as I stopped resisting the flow, there was nothing left but the juncos in the yard hop hop hopping in the snow on the other side of the sliding glass door.  I was breathing. I didn’t need to plan or worry or strategize escaping Christmas.  I just needed to be there. Be present. Welcome the present moment, no matter in what disguise it comes.  Even if it comes draped in tinsel and shiny red balls.

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On another note, Olivia is reading Transformational Weight Loss.  When I was reading The Power of Now, she got it out and started re-reading it, too.  I made the decision to read TWL with her mostly to support her, to be someone with whom she can discuss this revolutionary book.  But also her description of it as being highly compatible with Tolle’s teachings really grabbed my attention.  I have ordered the print copy and started reading the online version, which is available for a donation.  So far I am intrigued and hope to read a big chunk more tomorrow.  The author says the method is helpful not only for those who have trouble with diets but also those who cannot stick to an exercise regimen.  So we’ll see.

Job Search Update

I’ve never before had trouble finding a job. When I met Sylvain and we began hitting it off and spending every other weekend together in spite of the 3-hour drive between our two cities, my house was already up for sale. I was approaching that point in my job where I was about ready to do something different, as I’d been doing the same thing for five and a half years. If there is one thing for which I can give myself a gold star, it is that when love and adventure are the prizes, I have been known to uproot and take that blind leap of faith into the unknown of a new country or a new city.

It never occurred to me that finding a job here might be difficult or take more than a couple of months, tops. I am smart and have a truck load of transferable skills. Sylvain is staunchly proud of his city and detests the way people who are from here and people who are not from here knock Windsor. He cringes when they label it a blue collar town. So he was always confident and encouraging about my prospects. “You’ll find work in no time,” he said. I had no reason to doubt.

It wasn’t until I got here that doubt started to creep in. Not all the time, but on days when I was already feeling moody or despondent, I couldn’t help notice the headlines on the newspaper lying face up on the sofa. How many thousand more people were laid off in this city yesterday? Holy cow. Another plant shut down?

The teacher of my internet job search workshop had me fill out a questionnaire and hand over my resume. One of the questions was what type of work I was hoping to find and what my salary expectations were. Now I know the economy is different here. Waterloo’s economy is booming, especially the knowledge sector. Windsor, based on the domestic auto industry, has an unemployment rate more than double Waterloo’s. Also I know that it costs less to rent an apartment here. With those factors in mind, I put down an expected salary range that was a bit less than what I was making back in Waterloo.

When the teacher saw my the earnings range I’d written down, she frowned. I guess she felt it was her job to warn me that my expectations might be unrealistic for this town. A few times during the two week course, I heard her say to other students that indeed they might want to consider relocating, given their line of work.

My daily scan of the job sites and paper did nothing to contradict this teacher and the doom and gloom news reports. If I wanted to be a receptionist at a factory or auto parts store earning what I made fresh out of school, I could have a job tomorrow. The job ads were not supporting Sylvain’s optimism, it was supporting a bleak outlook.

Here is a list of efforts I have made to get a job I could enjoy and the results, beginning when I returned from Arkansas in mid-October. Just before I left for Arkansas, I attended a job fair that Lynn told me about and left my resume with multiple employers and with a non-profit agency that offers free career development services.

19 Oct – sent resume to Mirna at temp agency in response to 2-week contract position calling for very advanced Excel skills. Result – position was cancelled by the employer.

19 Oct – Applied for government job processing unemployment claims. Took online screening tests and felt I scored high. Was very optimistic and thought of this as my dream job… delivering service to people who are going through a stressful event in life–being unemployed.

26 Oct – met with case worker at career development place to go over my resume and job search strategy in depth. Got good advice on changing layout of resume and was advised to file for unemployment (called employment insurance or E.I. in Canada) even though I didn’t think I would qualify. Did so.

31 Oct – Mirna at temp agency had me in for typing speed, Excel test, etc. and asked me if I would be interested in an entry level temp position at a company that designs e-courses and does electronic marketing. I agreed.

1 Nov – Amusing interview with Debbie at said company. From the minute we sat down and started chatting about the job and my skills, Debbie seemed nervous and distracted. Only 5 minutes had passed before her body language said she wanted me to leave. “Ok, thanks, we still have others to interview.” Don’t know what that was about.

8 Nov – applied for job as tech support to users of agri software. Was called to come in for an interview.

13 Nov – started free (paid for by government) 2-week Internet job search course per referral by caseworker at the career development place.

15 Nov – had interview for tech support position; felt it went very well but later decided job would be too stressful.

16 Nov – applied for temporary job as an editor correcting spelling, grammar and punctuation of documents. Never got a response.

17 Nov – applied for position as receptionist at YMCA Immigrant Settlement and Adaptation Program; didn’t pay much, but could be very satisfying. Never got a response.

27 Nov – Mirna at temp agency called me to ask if I would be interested in a position as claims examiner at an insurance company. I told her I had not applied for it when I saw the ad because it said French bilingual essential. She said they were having trouble filling the position and were loosening the criteria. I authorized her to send my resume and was invited to interview.

29 Nov – interview with HR guy and director of claims at insurance co. went extremely well; they asked me to return for two hours of job shadowing on the 5th. As HR guy was walking me out, he said, “Isn’t this a coincidence? You just moved here to Windsor and WE just moved the company here to Windsor in February!” He seemed all bouncy and happy, as if finding me had made his day.

29 Nov – applied for job as database administrator at Deloitte (no code, just management of data, reports, etc.). No response.

5 Dec – received call from electrical supply company who got my resume off a job board; I consented to come in for an interview for the position of administrative assistant with advanced computer skills.

5 Dec – Second interview at insurance company. Sat with H and we clicked immediately. Enjoyed two hours of seeing what she does all day broken up by a pleasant 15 minutes in the lounge whereupon H and I furthered our bonding over tea by discussing how we are each dealing with respective recent moves to Windsor. After my time with H, I returned to the office of the HR manager, who asked me how it went. I was honest with him when I said I thought I would enjoy the job. He smiled and said he would put together an offer by end of next day. Okay then!

Talked over with Sylvain whether to cancel interview at electrical place. Decided to go through with it. After all, who knows. Maybe insurance co will low ball me and electric place will surprise me? Go see the tiny ninjas, I told myself. Just show up for life.

6 Dec – interviewed at electrical supply place. I am very glad I went to this interview in spite of all my misgivings and preconceived notions about the culture in such workplaces and my own prejudice regarding how well I would or would not fit in. I was interviewed by two very kind older men, one of whom has a lot of very pretty, sparkly gold jewelry. And chest hair. Nice chest hair. All the “girls” sometimes cover reception, so I would also sometimes cover reception. The outgoing administrative assistant gave me a computer skills test at her desk. She and I did not click. She has been there 14 years. They are surely going to miss her. If you think this paragraph is filled with non-sequiturs, just remember that I am on day 8 of no gossipping, complaining, criticizing or whining.

3:00 p.m. today – phone rang. When it was the HR guy at the insurance company and not the man of the many gold chains, I was so happy I wanted to reach through the phone and give him a big smooch. By 5:00 I had read over and accepted an offer of full-time, permanent employment.

Why the timeline, you may ask. We really do not need a play-by-play of your job search, Kelly, you may say. The thing is, this blog is my diary and I needed to lay it out like this for my own benefit for one reason.

I know it was partly because I waited until after my trip down south to begin looking in earnest and applying for jobs, but the fact is that before I found the job that I found, it felt to me as though the job search was dragging on FOREVER. No, really. My mind took the three months I postponed visiting Mom because my elderly rat was on his last leg and put it together with the time I actually did spend looking for work and turned it all into an entire six months during which big loser Kelly couldn’t and never would find a decent job in this town where there just are not jobs for people like me. The tape played in my mind: What on earth is someone like me going to do in a town that is wall to wall mechanics and welding and electrical and shiny gold chains and chest hair and being called girl?

Sometimes a tape is just that. A tape. Just so much mental noise, like scribblings on a white board. Just because I think it doesn’t mean I have to believe it.

Sooooo…. the NEXT TIME I am being taken in by the nonsense of my crazy tapes, maybe I can look back at this time line and see that even in economically depressed Windsor with its weekly plant closures and 10% unemployment rate, I found a good job in seven weeks.

Ho Ho No

Sylvain did a pretty good job presenting a balanced view of the difficult discussion we had the other night. The only thing I’d like to add is that I wouldn’t call it a complex.  I’d say it is one of the most rational decisions I ever made, and I made it from a place of calm after much thought.

Fat Happy Rats, Cat and Doberman

When I first GOT what Eckhart Tolle teaches about quieting the mind, I felt a pang of resentment toward the Jungian model.  Why had I spent all that time learning to work with the language of my dreams when really there was only one thing I needed to learn in this life: the difference between being present and being trapped in mind?!

I have similar feelings now about CBT.  Why should I bother making out three columns on a sheet of paper for reframing irrational thoughts when I could just quiet the mind altogether and ignore ego, remember not to identify with it?  After all, just because you have a thought doesn’t mean you have to believe it.

Now that I’ve found the off switch to my chatterbox mind, I wonder if CBT and Jungian Analysis are not overly complicating matters.  All teachings could have their place, though, depending on what the student is ready for.  Eckhart himself says something to the effect that if the process of awakening has not begun in you, his book is likely to strike you as page upon page of meaningless nonsense.

In any case, the pang of resentment has subsided and now I’m glad I studied the language of my dreams for over three years.  I’ve always tried to recall my dreams on waking. Ever since I was a wee tiny lass and my father would ask for dream reports at the breakfast table, I’ve felt compelled to tell my dreams to someone on waking.

I remember the first time I met my Jungian analyst and she asked me if I tend to remember my dreams.  “Oh yes,” I said, “and I write them in my dream journal every morning.”

She beamed.

One dream I’ve been having for a few years now is one in which I discover that I have some small pets such as rats and hamsters and/or gerbils that I have forgotten about.  In the dream I might find them in the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator in a state of suspended animation.  Not dead, but long, long neglected.

“What part of yourself have you put in the deep freeze?” my analyst would ask me, and we would explore what part of me was symbolized by those little pet rats I had forgotten about for months.  It is some instinctual part of me. Perhaps it is my nesting instinct?

I had a variation of that same dream so many times over.  I would come into an abandoned house or art studio to find a cage where my darling rats Stella and Luna had not been given food or water for weeks.  They were near death.  How could I have forgotten about them? How could I have almost let them die? I would wake up feeling deep remorse.

What part of myself am I neglecting? In what way am I ignoring my gut instincts? In what way am I not taking good care of myself?

One day not too long ago after discussing my disturbing starving pet dreams with Sylvain, I decided to ask my subconscious a question before going to sleep.  I asked, “Why are the little animals in cages? Do they have to be in cages?  And can I please dream that I feed them?”

After that I had a dream in which lots of little pet hamsters and rats were milling about on the ground around my feet.  Off to the right an owl sat on a branch watching over the whole scene.  But this was not a hungry owl there to eat any of the rodents. This dream corresponded with a period of time when I felt in limbo, lost in the chaos of not knowing what the future holds.

Finally a couple of nights ago I dreamt that Stella and Luna were alive and well-fed and riding around on my shoulders while I went about the activities of the dream.  The same night I had another dream in which my (late) cat Prozac was in my arms.  I was going somewhere and taking her with me.  Prozie was the smartest and most self-sufficient of all the cats I ever had.

I took these dreams to be a very good sign and asked myself what I’d been doing the day before.  That was the day, I realized, when I made a big decision.  This dream says to me, “you are taking good care of yourself with that decision.”

Then last night as Sylvain and I lay in bed talking out a difficult subject, I realized and admitted I had a wall up.  I was in one of those states when you feel protective of yourself.  I am trying to be open minded, but at the same time I have to look out for myself and make sure I don’t over-commit or commit to something that could just mean unnecessary stress for me.  Part of me felt I was being selfish and needed to yield. Another part said I was being appropriately cautious.

That night’s dream companion was a Doberman.

It’s comforting to me to know I have a part of me that is strong and protective like a big dog.