Forgiveness

This weekend I took a deep dive into the lesson of forgiveness. An old friend had recently reached out, someone who I had fallen apart from. She wanted to talk. I didn't. Too much time had passed and I had zero desire to rehash past hurts. I had forgiven and moved on. (Or so I had convinced myself.)

Nonetheless, me being me, I couldn't just say no. I needed to find a kind way to say I wasn't interested, so I waited a few days while I processed what I wanted to express. I also didn't want to come from a place of reaction, but rather from reflection. What came up in that time was that I hadn't truly forgiven -it was obvious by how much emotion stirred up in me. I could actually feel the resistance in my body. I thought I had worked through it all, but what I had really done was to move past it without moving through it. I felt righteous and we all know - righteousness is a dangerous ally.

I have done enough work to know that it takes two people to create any situation and I owned my part. Now I had to be willing to share that. Would I be willing to be that vulnerable? I recognized how much strength it must have taken her to reach out after so long, knowing she might be rejected. She was willing to take that chance and yet she persisted. I decided I would hear what she had to say. But I still had walls. I would not engage, I would not debate. The walls were up and that self-protecting aspect of me did not want to let them down. But on my drive over I realized there was no point in meeting if I was going to be closed off. I had to go in with an open heart and an open mind. I needed to soften.

Anxiety, heartbreak, and tenderness mark the in-between state. It’s the kind of place we usually want to avoid. The challenge is to stay in the middle rather than buy into struggle and complaint. The challenge is to let it soften us rather than make us more rigid and afraid. – Pema Chödrön

We met. The conversation wasn't easy. It was painful and uncomfortable and in the end, also cathartic and beautiful. What came of it was an opening of hearts, understanding where there was previously misunderstanding, a shift in perspective and the beginning of an opening to a renewed friendship. This post isn't about allowing people to hurt us or about putting up with bad behavior. I honor myself and my boundaries and I honor yours too. This is a post about one incident that showed me the power of forgiveness. We hear about how forgiveness isn't about the other person, that it is about freeing ourselves - this can only truly be understood when we experience that freedom. It isn't about absolution, but about letting go. It's about understanding and creating space and loosening our grip on the stories we hold on to. I am so grateful for all that I gained this weekend -I learned to be more compassionate, more humble, to better understand the consequences of my actions and inaction, to embrace vulnerability. I left with a sense of lightness and more love in my heart.

Beauty

"I can't say the word beauty without also equating it with the word transcendence, because it seems like there are so many different things that are beautiful to so many different people. But I think beauty is often an encapsulation of a lot of different things in a certain moment, a frame, let's say.

It could be music. It could be a poem. It could be an event. It could be in nature, and often, possibly most often, in nature. But, when that encapsulated form is received, there's a moment of reception and cognition of the thing that is, in some ways, startling."

 -Yo Yo Ma

Not yet.

I'm tired. I don't know if it's physical or emotional or mental -probably a combination of all of it. I keep wanting to leave, to pack up all of my things and go far away. Somewhere beautiful and simple, somewhere in nature, somewhere quiet. But of course, I cannot leave. Not now. Not yet. There is too much too be done, too many people to take care of, too much of me still being asked.

Love in Unexpected Places

I recently encountered an aunt who I hadn't seen in fifteen years, not since my grandmother's funeral. As I walked by the pew she sat in, we silently acknowledged one another with a slight movement of our heads. Then she looked down and sobs overtook her. My heart broke for her as her body became engulfed in her sadness. I have no idea what her relationship was like with her sister who was now gone from this physical world, but what I did know in that moment was that she was grieving for her desperately.

I was pulled to sit down next to her by some invisible force. I hesitantly put my arm around her shoulder and her head fell into the crook of my neck, her body resting against mine. I should have felt awkward and uncomfortable; instead, all I felt was that if my presence could alleviate even a minuscule part of her pain, I would sit there for as long as she needed. I don't know how many minutes we stayed there, me rubbing her back gently as her sobs subsided into a mere whisper of tears. As we sat together, I did not think of the decades lost, of the love I pined for as a child from my aunts and uncles. I did not think of the past, nor of the future.

What went through my mind was this: This is our purpose. To be there for one another. To remember that we are one -our joys and our sorrows. To be human to one another. To be present. To be Love. 

Take A Walk On The Slow Side...

The weather was perfect, a sunny 73 degrees with a slight cool breeze. I was walking down Ocean Avenue, taking in the fresh morning air and watching the ocean. After some time, I headed back to my car, parked several blocks away on a quiet residential street. As I turned onto Georgina, an elderly couple stepped onto the sidewalk just a few feet ahead of me.

I watched them for a minute as they walked in perfect stride with one another -right, left, right, left. I saw that they were holding hands and I thought to myself, what an adorable couple. I noticed they were wearing matching track pants in royal blue, and I couldn't help but smile. But they were walking oh-so slow.  For every step they took, I had to shuffle my feet so as not to step on their heels. I was starting to feel antsy; after all, I had places to be, things to get done. Just as I was about to walk onto the grass and bypass them, something stopped me. I don't know why exactly, but I decided to slow my pace down -to just go with their flow. 

At first it was hard, kind of like trying to keep your car at the speed limit of 40 mph when there's no one else on the road. But then I started looking around me. A squirrel eyed me mischievously before running up a tree. A large monarch butterfly fluttered its wings as it danced in the air, enticing me to follow it. I listened to the symphony of birds and the wind as it rustled the leaves and branches. It really was a beautiful day.

I counted over two dozen varieties of trees -all of different shapes, hues and heights. There was this one that had what looked like fishing nets dangling from its branches, something that could have been plucked straight out of a tropical island. And then there were the flowers. Bright fuscia petals and vivid orange wisps that looked like dragonflies; purples and blues and reds of all sorts; stark whites and shades of yellows.

I noticed the houses in a way I hadn't before, all those countless other times I'd walked down the street. I had always thought the mismatched houses, with their clashing styles, created a confusing sight to passersby. But today I was walking much slower than my body was used to. Now there was the opportunity to witness in a sort of slow motion, allowing me to focus on details. I saw the designs, the structures, the landscaping, the windows and the doors. Each dwelling had its own signature story to tell. Instead of a hodgepodge, I now recognized how beautiful each was in its uniqueness. 

I became so lost in my surroundings, that I had almost forgotten about the couple walking in front of me. I looked up and they were now several blocks ahead of me. I could barely make them out, but I saw the dark blue pants and knew it was them. I looked at the space between their bodies -and they were still holding hands. 

Taking A Leap

Two years ago, I found myself at a new job, working for a solo practitioner in Los Angeles. I was inspired by his seeming passion for helping people and accepted the job despite certain red flags. Needless to say, as with most new relationships, things went smoothly for the first few months. I continued to ignore the fact that promises were made and broken, that I had more clients than any one person could handle, and that my concerns seemed to go unheard. I continued to work hard and blocked out the feelings of unhappiness and dissatisfaction with my work environment.

A year went by, but the overwhelming feeling that I was in the wrong place didn't leave me. I was bogged down not only by my employer's expectations, but also by the expectations that I had created for myself. I had always been one of those people who had a plan and felt the need to persevere regardless of the circumstances, so I felt the need to see things through. Perhaps once I became a partner I would be happier.

It wasn't until I looked at friends in other industries that I realized that the culture of the workplace has changed. This isn't a generation of people who stay at the same job for forty years, waiting for their retirement. It is a new and evolving generation. It is a generation of people who change careers several times; a generation of telecommuters; a generation of people who think outside the box and take chances to nourish those ideas.

I began looking within me to find what it was that really brought me satisfaction and tried to look beyond the blueprint I had created for my life long ago. One Friday afternoon, I made my decision. I spent the weekend gathering up my things, tying up loose ends, and gave my notice on Monday morning. When I walked into John's office with a single piece of paper in my hand, he did not look up from his desk. "Is that your resignation letter?" he asked with a perceptible hostility in his voice. "Yes, it is." With a slight tremble and a smile on my face, I placed the letter on his desk and walked back to my office. I had never felt such a burden lift from my shoulders.

Since I left my firm nine months ago, I have been working as a contract attorney and freelance writer, and I have never been happier. Don't get me wrong -there are days where I stop and wonder if I'm headed down the right path or if the freedom I found was worth the pay cut. One thing I can say, however, is that I have never regretted the decision to leave. Those close to me say that I exude a confidence I never did before. I've heard countless times how brave I was to leave my job without a plan, without another job to land on. I realize now that I did have a plan, even if I didn't know the details yet. I wanted to have some autonomy over my work life. I wanted to be able to take cases that I believed in, and to turn down those I didn't. I wanted the opportunity to nourish my creative side. I have since been able to do all of that and more.

Before deciding whether it is time for you to move on from your current situation, here are a few suggestions.

1. Take stock of your situation. Note what you like and don't like about your current place of employment. If there are things that you can change to make it a better work environment, take steps to making it happen. If you have verbalized concerns and have been met with indifference, start planning for where you'd like to go next.

2. Make a list of what it is you would like to do. Even if there are ten things you are passionate about, write them down. We too often float through life in a stream of vagueness. Putting goals and aspirations down in writing helps us narrow the list down. Remember that we are our own greatest obstacle. Once we get past the fear (of change, of the unknown, of failing), we can open up ourselves to a completely new world.

3. Let go of old expectations. Like old habits, though they provide us with a sense of comfort, they often tend to hold us back. It is tempting to think about where you thought you would be at this stage in life - how much money you thought you would be making, that five-bedroom house you thought you would own by now - the list can go on. Think of what you would like now and move forward to reach those goals.

4. Devise a plan. If you've been spending most of your savings on entertainment instead of stashing it away, start building your cushion for when you leave your job. Unless you have another gig lined up, make sure you have enough to carry you over for a few months before you strut into your employer's office and give notice. If you have an important client or project that you feel obligated to complete, focus on getting it done sooner rather than later. If that's not possible, do your best to leave things ready for the next person to take over.

5. Believe in yourself. This seemingly simple suggestion is often one of the hardest ones to follow. There will be a time when you question your decision or worry about the future, but remember that you know yourself best and in the end you are the one responsible for your happiness.

The bottom line is that you don't have to settle for being unhappy in your career. It takes some courage, but it just might be the time to take a leap.

---

This piece was written in 2010.

The Funeral Dress

I searched everywhere -my closet, the pile of clothes accumulating on my bedroom floor, even my dresser drawers, despite knowing I would never have put it there. I checked my latest dry cleaning bags, but it wasn't there either. I was already running late, and now I couldn't find my funeral dress anywhere. I started visualizing the dress, hoping that this mental effort would help materialize the article of clothing: black rayon/cotton blend, two inches below the knee, three-quarter length sleeves. Understated. Conservative. Respectful. Where is that dress?

Of course I have other black dresses, but none of them are as perfectly appropriate for this occasion. They are either too short, too sexy, or too casual. They aren't my funer--- and then it hit me. I have a "funeral dress." All of a sudden I realized that going to memorial services has become such a common occurrence in my life that I actually have a dress mentally designated just for them. I don't even know when I started referring to it as such. I remember buying it a couple of years ago the day before I had to attend a service. But now, as I got ready to attend yet another one, I realized that I had indeed worn this same dress to three other services in the past two years, and along the way it had become marked in my subconscious to be worn only at these such occasions. 

A couple of hours later, I stood outside the always too-crowded viewing room, beneath a mammoth tree. I stared up through its branches and thought about life and its unpredictability. I thought about the first service I attended at this very same spot, almost fifteen years ago -a young man who left long before his time should have been up on this planet. The following year, it was my grandmother. Since then, there have been many others -each with his or her own story, each leaving behind a chasm in people's lives. 

Then I thought about all the new lives that I've seen come into the world over the years -first my friends' children, and now my baby nephew- and I reflexively smiled. The cycle of life. I pondered about the things that used to matter once upon a time, when I knew less. I thought about my friends and family and the choices we make. I especially thought about this past year, how I've been living my life much differently -with greater intention, a deeper engagement with life itself. I've struggled with the should have's and could have's and have come to love the "what is" of my life. I hope to continue living this way from here on out, because the truth is we never really know how long we have to enjoy this miraculous space.