Transforming Fear. A Dream.

I was approaching my house (a small white house with a front porch). I had just moved into this house, it was full of happy people. I noticed that there were very large brown bears on the porch. I was scared and raced to get in the house where I would be safe. I shut the door and pressed my body up against it. I could feel the bear thrusting his body up against the door. I held the lock on the door knob to keep it from turning, as the bear struggled to unlock the door. He eventually got in the house and grabbed me up in his huge arms. I could feel terror in my body, as if this were really happening. My mind raced to remember how to frighten bears away, but I could not remember. I only knew that he couldn’t know that I was scared. I decided that I would meditate and visualize that I was in the arms of God. At that moment, everyone in the room began to pray for me and I could feel their prayers. Fear left my body as I began to ohm softly. Soon, the bear began to hum softly along with me. And then he began to gently sway back and forth rocking me tenderly. He began to stroke my hair. Eventually he put me back down, and left through the door.

A Course Correction

The Joy Experiment took a back burner, quite by accident. I didn’t intend to relegate it to anywhere other than the front burner, but old habits are hard to break. When life reconvened at top speed, I began to postpone writing. And with the postponement of writing, came the postponement of focus.

I had an incident happen at work that left me hurt and feeling under valued. In the blink of an eye the old Lynn resurfaced. I found myself ranting and raving, my colleague across the way joining right in. I began to take action out of emotion instead out of a place of being centered.

Two days later, my colleague and I discussed what had happened. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means that we need to do a course correction,” I replied.

I believe that one of the most powerful tools we have at our disposal is habit. We are going to have habits; we may as well choose the good ones. Changing a way of thinking and being in the world is merely changing a habit. And like changing of any habit, it is only difficult at first. So, I did perform a course correction, I moved back into the place where I really do want to live (or at least as much as humanly possible), that place of making conscious choice and living with intention. I want to live from a place where I realize that if I don’t wake up on the right side of the bed, it doesn’t mean I have woken up on the WRONG side of the bed, AND I can change the way I feel.

I am sure that this was not the only time that I will do a course correction…but what I know for sure is that writing about joy and the desire to do my life differently, makes it so. It states my intention for all to hear (and, yes, I am quite sure that God reads my blog on a regular basis), makes me accountable and conscious of my actions and feelings.

Choose joy today, it really is a choice.

Love,
Lynnie.

I have not Forgotten

The Joy Experiment percolates in my mind at all times...more to come.

Moving into the Magnificent Mansion

I dreamt that I lived in a magnificent mansion. I shared a room on the top floor with several mothers and their children. The room was wall to wall beds, but everyone seemed very happy there. The woman who owned the home passed away while I was there, but I decided to stay on. I saw her darkened silhouette only once. She was dressed all in black, as if she herself were mourning. When she was gone, I went to a sale of her things hoping to have some kind of remembrance of her. All the furniture I looked at was broken somehow and I didn’t want any of that. I was then in a pool swimming and came upon an instructor. I told her I was living at the mansion and would like a remembrance of the woman who had just died; I asked if I could get a peek at what was being sold before the sale. She said I could, but that things were only being sold by the pallet. I went into a conference room and there was a committee of people, all dressed in black and looking very morose. I told them I was sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to let them know that I was going to be staying on in the mansion. Later, one of the women from the committee brought over a bust of a woman, from the shoulders up. It was wrapped up, so I could only see her shape; she set it in the door and then quietly closed the door behind her. I never did make it to the sale.

For weeks I have been dreaming of selling delapidated houses. This is the first dream I have had of moving in to a house, and it was a magnificent mansion. People were very happy there. This is a good sign.

The Joy Experiment has been going on for three weeks now. This last week I have had to work hard to invite Joy into my life every day. There were days I beckoned it, there were days I plead with it “I invite you in, Joy…please come.” And every day, after being summoned she eventually showed. I am embarrassed to admit that I have to work hard some days to experience joy; especially in light of all of the suffering in the world, but I do. Today I recommit to expanding my life and opening my heart through joy and gratitude. I can’t go back now.

I have found in life that when one makes a move toward change, the universe ricochets in the opposite direction. This is a principle that I don’t understand, but it is as if life tempts “are you sure that you want to make this change?” Perhaps it is the ego, so resistant to change, that throws up the obstacles. The Pursuit of Happyness portrays this principle beautifully. The main character (and this is based on a real life story) makes a decision to change his circumstances by attending a brokerage training course. Things go downhill from there. His wife leaves him, he is evicted from his apartment, and yet he perseveres harder than anyone else in the class and he is ultimately victorious. All of my old vices – a penchant for putting things in my mouth that are not good for me when I’m stressed, or soothing my aching heart by buying something new, when my post-Christmas bank account doesn’t support it, my disdain for going to work out when I know that I always come away happy -- all of these things (perhaps these were represented by the dreamland committee) have been raising their ugly, ugly heads. I am committed to this change. I am going to persevere. And I do know that change is happening.

The other night I had a friend over for dinner. She talked for a long time about all of the friends that she had said goodbye to over the last year. She reminded me so much of how I was feeling when I started this adventure. Her disappointment in the people in her life was palpable. She kvetched for hours. Did I join in? Of course I did, but not as much as I would have in the past. I decided to talk with her about The Joy Experiment, and how I felt when I started. I told her how I used to say “What is with people!” And she said “Yes! Exactly! What is with people?! Can’t they smile? Nobody smiles anymore. There is no joy in the world! I just don’t get it.” And I realized in that moment, that the single most profound change for me has been that my experience of the people in the world, no longer fits that exclamation, and I haven’t said it in weeks. I just don’t run into those people anymore. Perhaps all of those people were just a reflection of my discouraged, tired self. I don’t pretend to understand how all of this works, I just know that things are different. The euphoria of the first few weeks is gone, and still things are different.

So, now my committee is concerned. They are afraid for their lives, I suppose, and I think they should be.

I spoke with my friend again the next day. She had read my blog from the start to current. “I loved it, this is something simple we can all do, Lynn.” And she is right. Be forewarned that there may be a rebound, that distinct pull back to the old ways. We can be very clever at resisting change, especially if it is good for us. I’m up for the fight, how about you?

In my dream I never made it to the sale, perhaps another night. I believe what was for sale was all of the rewards that await us when we make a commitment to change for the better, and we persevere past the pull to the old ways. The good news? Apparently they are only available by the pallet full. How cool is that!

Lynnie

Just Say No to Kvetching

KVETCH
Pronunciation: 'kvech, 'kfech
Etymology: Yiddish kvetshn, literally, to squeeze, pinch, from Middle High German quetschen: to complain habitually : GRIPE

The one thing I have been asked most frequently (and that would be twice) is how to stop those who come to us and repeatedly kvetch.

Many of us have the bartender syndrome. We are the ones people always come to to share what is wrong in their life. I really believe that listening to the constant barrage of complaints of others takes its toll on us, as well as them.

While I am no expert, I have been able to stop a primary kvetch partnership.

There is a friend/colleague of mine who sits across from me at work. Over the last year we have become friends. Part of that friendship has included an ongoing banter about the company’s moral decay. This banter went on all throughout the day, and often included inviting others around us to join in. I had found myself leaving work exhausted and I believe that our endless banter was part of the cause. I am the type of person who needs to find some semblance of meaning in her work, and between the cutting and pasting and the ongoing kvetch sessions, that was becoming harder and harder to do.

When I began The Joy Experiment, I knew that this kvetch partnership had to cease. It would be a critical first step in inviting more joy and meaning into my life. And yet, I also knew that I didn’t want to throw away a friendship with a man who was really a very good person. At first I tried to change the subject, I even tried to put up boundaries, but relentless kvetches are hard to dissuade. And he was relentless. Always the kvetch was the same, always he refused to shift into how he could reconcile the kvetch. So, I made it personal. I invited him to coffee and shared with him The Experiment. I told him that kvetching was taking a toll on me and that I had to change my life and do things differently. When we got back to our desks, I put a sign on my white board, “This is a Kvetch-Free Zone.”

Our conversation shifted immediately. Instead of endless kvetching, we endlessly buoy each other. We talk about philosophy and positive ideas, instead of the negative, destructive ideas that permeated our relationship before. The real payback is that our friendship has deepened, because we committed together to improving our lives at work.

Kvetching is NOT always bad. If kvetching leads to helping you define what you need, which leads you to action, which leads you to resolution, it can be a good thing. The kvetch helps you to identify the contrasts of life. It is the never-ending, repeating, circular kvetch that is absolutely non-productive. I believe that we do our fellow humans a disservice by listening to them over and over.

Listening can sometimes be a wonderful gift that helps people find resolution to something troubling them. Unless it is habitual kvetching, just listen to your friends when they come to you, don’t join in. It may be that this person just needs a sounding board. If it turns into circular kvetching, you haven't been a part of it.

The minute it starts to take a toll on you, please stop it. You are not doing anyone a favor by continuing. Make it personal, “I have been finding myself being too negative, can you help me turn that around?” or “These conversations where we complain, leave me tired and I do enjoy your company, how can we change what we talk about to be more positive?” or “How are you going to change this [thing they are kvetching about]?” or “What one step can you take today toward feeling differently about this, I am worried about you.”

Sometimes holding these conversations can be scary. Like nearly everything in life, the anticipation is much scarier than the actual act of doing it, and with practice we become better at it.

Good luck with the kvetches in your life. If you try something that works, please share.

Thanks,

Lynnie

Bumps in the Night

Anonymous from Colorado commented that “it's a scary thing to look closely at your dark corners and sweep them out.” I hadn’t really thought about The Experiment like that. It feels more like illuminating what was dark.

One week into The Experiment my dreams became vivid and prolific. I have dreamt three times that I am selling my house – not my real house where I am currently living. These houses are all different and none of them familiar. They are all fixer uppers. One house lingers with me more than the others. This house was two stories and dilapidated…but full of potential. It had six bedrooms and sat on a pretty piece of land. As the new homeowners were moving in, I walked through the house with one of them, and together we counted the number of bedrooms. It was then that I realized I was selling the house for significantly less than it was worth. I told the woman that I was going to have to call some realtors to find out the true value. I could not give it away for so much less than its value.

Last night I had three distinctly separate dreams. Warning: What you are about to read is graphic and twisted and may lead you to believe I am some kind of whacko. I’m not.

The first dream. I was going to the airport with my mother. I realized that I forgot my luggage and all information about our flight time. I looked in a mirror and saw myself. My throat was slit by another friend and written on my neck were the words “The Secret is Joy.” Blood gushed from my neck. We went back home to get my suitcase and I could tell by looking at my bed where I had slept the night before, that I had lost a lot of blood. I thought it was odd that I didn’t feel like I had. We left again and I still did not have my suitcase.

The second dream. I had lost my job and was talking with a group of people. I remember worrying about being able to stay in my home (again the home thing), without an income. I felt something on my arm. I looked down at my arm and there was a tiny cut in my skin. A large mosquito looking insect crawled out of my skin. Someone said “I bet it laid eggs in your arm.” I looked down and there was a row of tiny little bugs filing out of the cut in my arm single file. Then these very large (6”) insects, they were a cross between a praying /mantis and a crab, began to crawl out of my arm, their arms wrapping around my arm and their claws digging in as they pulled themselves out of my body. I could actually feel this sensation, and it hurt. Did I mention my dreams were vivid?
The third dream. Let me just discreetly say it involved an unidentified man getting to know himself, while I gazed on. I then experienced, for the first time ever in dream state, waves of orgasms – over and over again.

Let the reader interpret for themselves (I’m sure you will—be kind, I really am not a whacko), but here’s my take:

The moving from my homes is about change. Leaving the well-worn and dilapidated ways behind, while honoring what I am leaving. In each home dream, I walk through the rooms and admired the home’s potential. Retracting the offer on the table, to ensure it was appropriately valued was about not giving away my precious life where it is not valued.

The horribly graphic throat scene is about finding my voice (opening up my throat) about joy. After all, as the dream clearly states, the Secret really is Joy. I was never concerned about leaving behind my luggage in the dream. It feels as if am leaving some things behind in my real life too, things that should stay behind.

And then there is the bug dream. It just feels to me like a visual representation of purging my psyche of some really nasty and frightening stuff. How ironic that it was part crab and part “praying” mantis. I am literally praying the crab out of me. OK, it was either that…or it was the after affects of the foie gras I had for dinner the night before.

I think Anonymous is right…the dark corners are showing their face; not consciously while I am sitting across from a therapist, but in the darkness of night, while I am trying to get some sleep. Perhaps this an effective way to dispel the dark.

Oh yes, and dream three. Well, that was my reward for making it through the other two.

Lynnie

Rainy Day Tools

When the sun creeps out from behind Oregon’s inexorable winter cloud layer and transforms the steely grey sky into blue, it is easy to feel joy. Today is just such a day. Not all day, but we revel in the sun whenever it shows its face, if even for a moment.

Oregon is plagued with grey days in the winter, and it’s not just that the sky is grey, the whole world becomes colorless. Fog descends upon the valley, and its cold permeates even your walls. The phrase “chills you to the bone” was invented to describe these days. Thankfully, we DO get perfection in the summer, or I would have been long gone by now.

We need to have tools in our back pocket for when winter persists, or we have a bad hair day, or someone disappoints or we just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Here are a few tools for your toolbox. They work.

· This morning as I lay in bed, I envisioned myself full of joy. I felt what it would feel like and saw what I would look like if I were in a supreme place of bliss. Before I knew it, I felt truly happy and jumped out of bed.
· Get down on your knees and give thanks, heartfelt thanks, for all that you have been given. On my knees I feel in awe of the generosity of the universe. While you are down there try to add five more things to the list, and smile with all your heart (and your liver too!).
· Sing a zippy song in the shower. My favorite joyful song is “Zippety Doo Dah.” You just can’t sing that song and feel down.
· Whistle a cheerful song (and yes, Zippety Doo Dah is still my favorite)! While I can’t really sing at work, I can whistle all day.
· I mentioned in a previous blog, that I signed a mental petition in support of a colleague's dream. Sometimes lack of joy goes hand in hand with lack of hope. Reclaim hope by asking for help. Have you read Eat Pray Love? In this book Elizabeth Gilbert, during a drive to a book signing with a friend, asks for help in a very powerful way (for those who have it, read Ch9). Emotionally and physically exhausted by an ugly, drawn-out divorce, she wrote a petition to God. She humbly asked God for resolution, and when she was done, her friend said, “I sign that petition.” For an hour, Elizabeth asked for others in her life to sign her petition, and then imagined it done. And when she ran out of people in her life, she asked others – St. Francis of Assisi, Bill and Hillary Clinton, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mother Teresa. I have heard it said that one should look at sleepless nights as sacred time. During one such sacred time, I read about Liz Gilbert’s petition to God, and wondered “what would be my petition to God?” I then wrote it on paper and signed it, imagining many people in my life and throughout history signing it as well. I then took this exercise to my women’s group, and each of us made a petition for a New Year, while the rest of us verbally proclaimed “I sign your petition.” Miracles can happen when we are clear with what we want, ask reverently, ask for support for our vision and wait patiently. In Liz Gilbert’s case, before she reached her destination, her lawyer called to say…what else…their divorce settlement was just signed.

I want you all to know, whatever it may be, I passionately and ferverently sign your petition, and am envisioning you signing mine. Thanks for doing that.

Lynnie

PS Do you have additional tools in your toolbox? Please share.