THE RIGHT PERSON

When someone surprisingly gave me a glimpse into “the other side of the story” about a friend of mine, I listened very carefully.  Initially, I was shocked.  How did this kind, enthusiastic person act so cold and careless?  How could this great guy have been such a crappy husband?  We are who we are, but who we are with does impact how we behave.  When a person is happy, she/he is free to be involved and intimate.  When a person is unhappy, she/he might be more detached and distant.  Cheating and beating aside, a person is not necessarily a bad person because she/he was not a good match for another person. 

The same friend, who was not going to win a husband-of-the-year award in his first marriage, has been pretty impressive in his second marriage.  Sure, he has matured and changed; but he has also found a woman who is a much better partner for him, allowing him to thrive in the second relationship. 

Whether it has been nine months or 19 years, when you realize you are with someone you are not best suited to be with, what do you do?  Can you stay content in the plush and secure, but unimpassioned life you have?  Will resentment set in for you, or the other person?  Do you reluctantly stay because of the family?  What are you teaching your child?  Is happiness worth the journey away from comfort?  What makes you happy?

THE UPSIDE OF VULNERABLE

What does it mean to make oneself vulnerable?  Exposing oneself to the possibility of being hurt, of feeling pain?  Obviously, I want to protect myself from pain.  Sometimes, though, allowing myself to be vulnerable and accepting the risk of suffering allows for new possibilities that might include pain, but also provide tremendous joy. 

It is not always easy to do what one wants to do, specially when others think you should not or cannot do it.  I am unwilling, though, to let anyone tell me what I should or should not do.  So when the opportunity presented itself, on the eve of my forty-first birthday, I hopped onto a skimboard—something I had been dying to do.  Of course, I was immediately on my ass.  My leg twisted, testing the stability of the ligaments and tendons supporting my knee joint.  I felt girly, which caused me more suffering than the sand exfoliation or the severe pain in my leg.

I limped back up the beach with the pro skimboarder, who was being kind and politely patient about my obvious inability to put any weight on my left leg without excruciating pain.  I took a deep breath, exhaled and shook-out my leg before my rapidly tightening knee became too stiff.  I looked him in the eye and responded, “Yeah, I’m O.K.  I’m ready to go again.”  Focusing on executing the technical instruction I had just received, I forgot all about the pain and experienced the thrill of skimming. 

Skimming is dominated by strong and brave twenty-something year old men.  I was the only woman on the beach, clearly past twenty-something, learning how to skim.  I was allowing myself to be vulnerable.  It was very scary.  For every look of disbelief, I had complete strangers come up and commend my effort.  A “friend” made a negative comment that stung, but actual friends encouraged me.  During the first week, as I practiced, I felt insecure and conscious; yet, the fun of skimming, the challenge and the support of friends kept me going.

After a few days of experiencing the risk and accompanying moments of embarrassment, anger and frustration, I overcame the feeling of vulnerability.  Now, I truly do not care who sees me and what he or she thinks.  I laugh when I find my face planted in the sand.  I shake it off when I hurt, and much of my body hurts.  Every single time I fall, I get up and try again.

This afternoon, as the first wave of the set receded, I started running across the sand.  I felt the traction pad under my right foot, then under my left foot.  In position on the board, I crouched down.  The sore muscles in my lower back, quads and glutes let me know I had hit my sweet spot.  As I glided on the surface of the water, I delighted in the feeling of riding my board, liberated from the confines of fear and expectation.

WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?

Driving south on Pacific Coast Highway, I am lost in my thoughts. The music on the radio is pulsing in the background, but I have no idea what is playing.  I feel the cool breeze on my brown skin and take a deep breath, inhaling the salty smell of the ocean.  I look west and smile as I notice the bright sunlight bursting against the rapidly retreating marine layer.  Suddenly, the music in the background catches my attention.  I hear one line from a song, “Just praying to a God that I don’t believe in.”  My smile broadens.

In the white picket fenced world, you are supposed to believe in God and marriage.  If you believe in God, is it because you truly have faith?  Do you believe just because you are supposed to?  Do you, perhaps, believe out of fear?  Is it easier to be rescued, than to face your demons on your own?  We all have our own pickets to tear down. 

My personal path to freedom from the confines of the white picket fenced world included admitting I was praying to a God I did not believe in, and realizing I have tremendous faith in Love.  What do you believe in?

MY SECRET DRUG

Too many times, I have found myself being kind to people I did not want to be kind to—people who excelled in earning my ire.  I found myself displaying kindness and understanding in situations I did not want to be kind and understanding about.

The asshole should not have been treated kindly.  Was my kindness an acceptance of the futility of trying to correct someone else’s behavior?   Maybe, but I realized there was more.  A quick list of unwanted kind behavior exposed a pattern.

When I should have been asking, “Why the fuck are you talking to me?” instead of answering, “I’m fine thanks.  How are you?” and making polite conversation; when I returned a high-five instead of turning away;  or when I chose to ignore a comment, rather than land a right hook; I had just finished a high-intensity work-out.  There lies the secret: endorphins!  Endorphins, we all know, are our very own, personally manufactured, natural narcotic.  Endorphins make us happy, they numb us to pain, and apparently they cause us to be kind.   

Being kind is uncontrollable when I am high on endorphins.  My physiology is peace.  In the moment endorphins are surging through my body, I simply do not give a shit about how I had been wronged or what a jackass the person in front of me is.  Rather, I am all Buddha-like with compassion for all sentient beings.  One Love is ringing in my ears, and is all I know.

How do you practice kindness when you seriously dislike your in-laws, but are headed over to their house for a family dinner?  Easy answer now that we know the secret.  Do sprints immediately before heading over.  You do not want to be kind to the lying sack of shit?  No problem.  Completely avoid him or her immediately after your endorphin fix.

Be warned, though, some acts of kindness under the influence of your post-work-out high will sometimes result in delayed disbelief and annoyance.  Our mind creates uproar because it was left out.  “Why didn’t I say this or that instead?  What the hell was I thinking?”  Kindness does not come from thinking.  Kindness comes from feeling.  So go have a fun, intense work-out.  Run, climb, bike, swim, surf, fight, jump, pull, push until your heart feels like it will pound out of your chest, or until you puke, and practice kindness.  

ACROBATS & DANCERS

I sit on my cushiony red velvet seat, ten rows from the center of the Mystere stage, with my eyes fixed on every fascinating movement displayed before me.  The artists performing these feats remind me almost anything is possible with hard work and determination.

In an incredible demonstration of strength and balance, two male acrobats hold each other in mind-boggling positions.  The larger man is always on the ground, holding the smaller man, providing a counter-balance for his partner, or simply providing an interesting platform.  As I watch these two men in their carefully choreographed routine, I realize they have created the perfect visual for what I used to think relationships were all about.  I used to think a relationship meant balancing each other by intertwining into one, just like the acrobats.  How many cheesy love songs go on about, “two hearts beat as one?”  Living within the white picket fence and blaming the irrationality of romantic love, I had believed 1 + 1 = 1.  

Relationships are not a Cirque Du Soleil act.  A much better visual than acrobatics is dancing.  Dancers are responsible for their own balance in their own space.  When dancing together, a dancer allows her partner into her space.  She connects with him, but she does not hold him up.  They dance together as two distinct people—they dance with each other.   A healthy relationship does not require assimilation.  1 + 1 = 2.

WIN OR LOSE?

A friend recently commented to me, “You win some. You lose some.”  Some people view everything in life as a game, even interpersonal relationships.  The prevalence of game-approach in mainstream society is regrettable.   I used to think game theory was limited to brief academic discussion during studies of politics and conflict.  Practically, I thought game strategies were used while learning an actual game, like chess or poker. 

While many of us consider most reality shows comical, the digital age has made it clear too many people have actually mistaken the ridiculous win-lose games played by the “stars” of these shows as behavior to be emulated.   (Rather than the partying wannabes on television, I am impressed with the success of the innovating twenty-something year old who recently developed the app the wannabes and their followers cannot live without.)

Even with the popularity of win-lose games, winning has lost its significance.  Sometimes I think people do not know or care what they are winning, they just want to win.  What did the team truly win when they cheated to get the winning goal?  What did the man win when he broke-up with the woman he really liked, just to beat her to the break-up?  What did the meddling and disapproving mother-in-law win when her son got divorced?

In sharp contrast to the theatrics, a great fighter kneeled down and looked my young son in the eye, after my son had lost his jiu-jitsu fight.  He emphatically spoke the words of Master Carlos Gracie,

 “There is no losing in jiu-jitsu: there is winning or learning.”

Those words resonate with me because they are applicable beyond sports.  Life is not a win-lose game.  Relationships are not win-lose games.  We learn about ourselves and others from relationships.  We learn who we are, what we want, what we need, what we can give and how far we can go.  Sometimes we learn what we can do better.  We make mistakes and we grow.   When we learn, we cannot lose.    

THE GAME

There are some reasonable generalizations that are more likely to describe behavior by gender.  After all, women and men are such different beings.  Everyone can hear and listen equally, but women and men often process the information in their own way: what data is retained, how it is analyzed and what conclusion are drawn

Man says, “It’s green.”

Woman hears it is green, and she likely wonders if it was blue or yellow to begin with, which color was there first and why it was changed.

Woman says, “It was blue.  I wanted a change, so I added yellow to make it green.”

Man hears it is green and wonders what the football score is.

How useful are these generalizations?  Is it smart to anticipate how someone will behave, and base your actions on those assumptions?  How about the classic example we have all heard: if you do not show interest, he or she will be more interested in you.  Probably, but do you want to take action or just be a reaction? 

The people who are experts at playing “the game” certainly have a good grasp on typical human and gender-based behaviors.  If you like to play the game, you are probably out there in a predictable pattern with predictable people.  After all, predictability is the point. 

Not relying on expected behaviors, as common as they are, and having an open mind to the uniqueness of an individual is a scary, bumpy path: a path that will often cause us to suffer.  For those of us who do not like to play the game, unpredictability is what excites us.  We will dismiss our guidelines, we will scare people, we will get burned, and we will hurt.   However, we will make our way past the games and we will find real Love.

PERFECTLY HUMAN

Standing on the soft, wet sand, I watched the ocean rise, sparkle in the sun, curl-up, crest and come crashing back down in a burst of thick white froth in front of me.  The wind carried the cool mist into my face.  I am in love with the ocean.  The ocean brings me happiness and peace.  Surprisingly, it can get better:  my children are with me finding the same joy and peace from the ocean.  With skimboards in hand, they are waiting, watching, learning and understanding the movements of the ocean.   I start to let go of the thoughts and feel the calmness.

Abruptly, a woman starts talking to me.  I am not sure exactly what she has said.  Annoyed at her for disturbing me, I turn and look directly at her.  All I hear is, “blah, blah, blah, surfing, blah, blah, blah.”  I look at her as if she is insane.  I am trying to make out the words, but my anger is rising and stealing my focus.  Rudely, I clarify, “They’re learning to skimboard.”  She does not understand.  Her friend is just as confused as her, but senses my irritation.  I am not sure if the woman is clueless or determined to obtain clarity.  Regardless, she continues with her questions.  Impatiently and impolitely, I explain.  Painfully, the conversation ends.  At first, I am relieved.  Quickly, though, I begin to feel like the asshole I had just been.  The woman was simply being friendly and inquisitive, and I was a complete jerk to her.

Ms. Peace, Love and Happiness, as difficult as it is to admit, had just been downright mean.  My anger was refocused on myself, which helped snap me back to the reality of the moment.  Recognizing my anger, I walked away and sat down by myself.  I looked at the ocean; my kids; the two women, who had rejoined their group of a third woman and a man; the beach and everyone around me.  I remembered I was a human being, sitting here along with all these other human beings, trying to enjoy nature and life.  Equally important, I realized I was perfectly human in my imperfection.  I had made a mistake, and it was O.K. that I made a mistake. 

I still had an opportunity to share kindness.  Before long, I apologized and was sitting with the women having a lovely, friendly time with them.   Just like when I am playing a game of tennis, I made a bad shot.  That shot is over, finished, history.  If I think about the bad shot, I am not going to be focused on the shot I am currently facing.  We will make mistakes because we are imperfect.  It is important to understand; accept; correct and apologize, if possible; and move on.  So often we focus on forgiving others, but we forget to forgive ourselves.

LOVE

At first, I would patiently explain to my kids the change I received at the store was actually my money, and there was no need to be so excited about getting my money back.  It was just my money being returned to me.  Eventually, we got into math lessons and it became evident the children had comprehended the mathematics.  They could tell me what my change should be.  They understood the change was my money and was due back to me.  Yet, the kids were totally thrilled to get change.  Both my boys wanted to go buy things with cash just to get change.  I was perplexed.

One day while playing Bugopoly (a twist on Monopoly with properties like “Cockroach Crevice” and “Stinkbug Street”), I watched the kids consistently and purposely pay with large notes in order to get change.  Perhaps it was the almost-empty glass of the Snap Dragon cabernet sauvignon, allowing me to take a step back; or my fatigue at the end of a busy day, demanding a deep breath and extra patience.  Regardless, I saw what was unfolding in front of me with an entirely different lens.  Actually, for the first time, I saw it without judgment.  Getting change was all about receiving a gift, whether it was already theirs or not.

In the true sense of one love, it was not about what is mine or what you owe me.  It was simply about the pure joy of giving and receiving.  I confirmed my realization with the kids and they replied, “Yeah, it’s just fun.”  When I subtracted my expectations from the equation and looked at what they were doing, it was so simple and completely clear.

Whether it is something material or emotional, as adults, we judge and place value, which makes us want to possess.  We create expectations.  What if we simply give and receive for the joy of the exchange, rather than for what we think is due to us or we want to have?  I do this with my children—I love them without expecting them to love me—and it is liberating.  Being able to love free of expectations breaks down all the fences, and truly becomes one love.  Can I give a man my love without expecting his love in return?  Do you love without needing him or her to be yours?  Can you give without expectation?  Can you receive without expectation?  

ANGER

I talk a lot about peace because peace is love; and peace actually is joyful.  Sometimes, though, all I want to do is be angry and emphatically say, “Fuck you!”  It feels good in the moment.  But after about five minutes, it does not feel so good.  I am still angry.  Anger is not a crazy monster in itself that appears when someone antagonizes me.  I am anger.  Anger is part of my wholeness—not a piece of me or something that is hidden in a compartment, but an integral part of the energy that makes up this human.  We are not little pieces of this and that glued together to create a complete picture.  A person is a whole energy with many aspects.

I used to think anger was bad, and being angry was unacceptable.  Anger is natural.  Taking action with anger is what is bad.   Experiencing my anger and taking care of the anger actually brings lasting peace. The more I deny anger, the more I dwell and suffer in the spiraling and destructive tornado of anger.  It is not just anger that I have to take care of, rather it is every aspect of my energy.  Anger, because of the unpleasantness, is quite difficult to accept and needs extra care. 

There is a fantastic book by Gail Silver called, Anh’s Anger.  It is a children’s book, but has a simplified message most adults can benefit from understanding.  In the story, a boy becomes very angry and is sent to his room, where he meets his anger.  The visualization of his anger; represented as an almost-endearing, crazy-looking, hairy, red creature; helps make the concept less abstract.  The boy takes care of his anger by experiencing it: he welcomes his anger, plays with his anger, and finally sits and breathes with his anger.  As the boy tires and focuses on his breathing, his anger becomes smaller and smaller, and finally fades away. 

“Don’t worry, Anh, I’m not a stranger.  I’m the part of you that comes out when things don’t go your way.  I’m right here every time you get angry.  I know you feel scared when I’m around.  I can make you cry and want to hit things.  I can even make you say mean things to people you love…  But I’m also your friend.  Whenever you feel angry, you should come sit with me.  After we spend some time together, you might feel better.”

  

It is easy to become angry when things do not go our way.  Instead of accepting life as it is, we want to control life and we become angry when things do not go our way.  It is OK to feel angry, but what we do next is critical.  In her book, Nothing Special, Joko Beck explains, “…our practice is to become the anger itself, to experience it fully, without separation or rejection.  When we work this way, our lives settle down.”  Everyday I get to practice accepting my anger.  I do not always do a good job, but life is positively better when I am my anger.

FEAR

A very wise friend of mine recently advised me, “Let your fear shake you.”   It is not so easy to actually practice.  I had been trying to understand how to let my fear shake me since my conversation with her.  It was not working very well for me.  I decided I needed a less abstract and more practical application.  I am an open water swimmer.  Today was my first swim in the ocean after a big swell.  Although the swell had mostly faded, there were still some good sets coming in.  The surf was stirring-up the sand, which caused the visibility in the water to be poor.  In addition, two people had separately brought-up local shark stories this weekend.  To top it off, as I sat down to breakfast this morning, right in front of me was the kids’ new book with a picture of a Great White with its sharp, triangular teeth exposed and ready to devour.  I dismissed the shark theme until as I was about to get in the water this morning, a friend spotted a seal frolicking in the water.  He commented he liked swimming with seals because they are so playful, but all I could think about was that seals were favored items on the shark menu. 

Of course, I got in the water and went on my swim.  I spent the first few minutes focusing on getting out and acclimating to the cold water.  Next, I got set on my course and thought about my stroke.  I settled into the rhythm of the ocean.  I practiced my sighting as I passed the surfers.  Then, when I was out there alone and I could not see beyond my hand, it hit: fear.  Fear of what I cannot see.  Fear of sharks.  Typically when I get scared in the water in Hawaii, I remind myself the proven-awesome Lifeguards are my friends, they know I am out there and are keeping an extra watchful eye on me.  In California, however, I no longer typically swim where or when there are Lifeguards.   However, I regularly paddle where I swim and I know there is nothing dangerous in the area, so I remind myself to trust in this knowledge.  It is rationalizing the fear away.  It works most of the time.  Today, though, I was emotionally raw and I wanted something tangible to apply the, “Let the fear shake you” theory.  So I did not rationalize the fear away.  Instead, I let myself get scared. I let myself flash through the requisite thought of being an irresponsible mother by not being more cautious with my life.  I felt my heart race and my lungs tighten, as I gasped for more air with each breath.  I felt my stomach knot-up as I suddenly found myself wrapped in the kelp.  I calmly unraveled from the kelp, but I felt a little nauseous.   I kept going and even though I was still swimming “blind,” the fear magically disappeared.  Suddenly, I felt relaxed and strong.  With my breathing back to normal, I smoothly picked-up my pace with power and courage. 

Immediately after my swim, I had to face what previously had me feeling emotionally raw.  What unfolded was scary, and it was something I had never experienced before.  After learning how to overcome my fear on my swim, I allowed myself to truly feel afraid, disappointed, frustrated, angry and sad.  I embraced the intense rush of feelings as they exposed themselves one by one.  I accepted the reality of what happened, and I let the fear and the pain shake me.  I spent the rest of the day being completely present in my activities.  What I did not realize until later, was that I was able to be present because I had genuinely accepted my horrible experience and it was no longer horrible.  There was no pain to dwell on, and there was no fear to feed.  I only understood this at the end of the day, when I stopped to actually think about how I had such a lovely day despite what had occurred earlier.  Only by accepting my hurt, was I able to overcome the pain, and appreciate the understanding of a new experience and my confidence that I am more than my fear.

What are you afraid of?  Are you afraid of loneliness?  Are you afraid you will never find your ideal partner? Are you afraid of trying something new?  Are you afraid of change?  Are you afraid of failure?  Are you afraid of leaving?  Are you afraid of staying?  Are you afraid of the unknown world outside your fence?  Whatever your fear is, feel it, let it shake you, and see that you are more than your fear!

PEACE LIST

About a decade ago, I was trying to find peace.  I had recently had a miscarriage and realized if I was going to start a family, I needed a break from the intensity of my fast-paced life.   It was easy to slow down the work schedule and the globe-trotting; however, my passion for justice and fairness in everything from interpersonal to global kept me fired-up.  I compiled a list of ideas to bring calm and comfort: a peace list.   The ideas have been taken from stories, music, people and experiences.   I picked up an old, but special book last night, and my Peace List fell out.  I smiled as I read the simplicity of the words.  Peace truly is quite simple.  The 10 ideas (not in any particular order):

1. How you were raised is an explanation not an excuse.
2. Try to look at it from the other person’s perspective.
3. Don’t take things personally.  People act because of their own wounds—empathize with them.
4. Validate others when they do good things.
5. Relax and breathe.
6. Material things can be replaced.
7. It’s OK to not have control.  The only things you can control are your actions and reactions.
8. If someone does not listen, try explaining in a different way instead of getting angry.
9. Laugh.
10. Love.

I used to read this list everyday.  It did help me calm my mind and my soul.  Today, though, I find something glaringly missing from the Peace List.  In the words of Yoko Beck, in her book Everyday Zen, “Trust in things being as they are.”  Peace!

SUBMISSIVE?

With her new book, My Foot Is Too Big For The Glass Slipper, Gabby Reece has created a stir about a woman’s role in marriage.  She managed this with one word:  submissive.  As a fan of Gabby, I was initially very disappointed.  Did she truly mean “submissive?”  She is a strong, successful woman with a thriving family and career.  She declares herself “the opposite of subservient,” yet she busts out this ugly word. 

Clearly, her choice of words was poor.  Her idea, I hope, is more about the concept of a woman’s wholeness.  A woman can be a powerful, competitive charger; and she can also be kind, compassionate, loving and giving.   I do not accept that a woman should be submissive.  I do, though, believe that a healthy relationship must include both people giving themselves to each other—giving in balance and in love. 

To do anything, one must first be balanced.   A balanced woman is one who is aware of her wholeness.  Being whole is acknowledging one’s spectrum of qualities and capabilities.  For example, we are not whole if we only know our strengths and weaknesses.  What about everything in between strongest and weakest?   Knowing we are whole means being able to be fierce in competition, yet tender in love.  Being whole is taking and giving.   If you give or take too much or too little—if you are submissive or dominating—you lose your individual balance.  In addition to individual partners being balanced, the relationship between two people must also be balanced, with both people giving and taking with love and respect for themselves and for one another. 

Perhaps exposing her vulnerabilities and submitting herself to love is what Gabby was trying to convey.  Love is all about giving, opening, embracing and serving; and it is unequivocally not about obeying, dominating, being submissive or subservient.

PERFECTLY UGLY

Within the confines of the white picket fenced world, if it is not pretty, it must surely be ugly.  When people refer to my ex-husband as “your husband,” I smile and let them know he is my ex-husband.  Sometimes I encounter people who are delighted to see a friendly relationship between divorced parents.  These open-minded people are genuinely pleased to see happy children thriving with both parents peacefully in their presence.  Often, though, I get a very different reaction—a reaction of suspicion and displeasure.

When the perfect life falls apart, a lot of people want life to be perfectly ugly.  The fear of the ugly keeps it pretty.  This is how marriage and divorce should be according to mainstream society.   You should not leave the white picket fence.  If you make the mistake of leaving, you should be miserable.  When life does not follow these expectations, people get uncomfortable.  People have looked at me in complete disbelief and frustration when I have answered; yes, he is the children’s father; yes, we are divorced; yes, we get along; in fact, we are friends; no, we are not getting back together.

The people who cannot accept my cooperative situation actually want blame and drama.  It is easy to expect blame, but difficult to accept blame.  Those old clichés, “it takes two to tango” or “it takes two hands to clap,” have some merit.  Whatever happened or did not happen, a relationship is between two people.  Of course I blame my ex-husband for certain things, but I also accept responsibility for my actions.  I could have chosen to spend my life hating and blaming him.  Rather, I chose to accept my choices and my role in the situation, and focus on living my life.  I chose to continue on with my story, rather than dwell in his.

In tandem with blame comes drama.  He did what?  He said what?  People want to know something terrible happened.  I often get puzzled looks accompanied with the question, “So nothing happened?”  Yeah, nothing happened.  They do not get that.  Where is the drama?  How were you wronged?  Who can I blame?  People thrive on drama.  There must be someone to accuse, someone to sympathize with, someone to talk about and someone to rescue.  What if we change the norm?  What if we create a society that desires amicability and cooperation when a marriage falls apart?  Perhaps divorce will not be so traumatic.  Perhaps families will become stronger because relationships will continue in love rather than hate.  Imagine this kind of world for your children… 

WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT?

Often, I sit down with my kids to paint an image we have imagined, or capture an adventure we have had.  Sometimes, we just sit and paint without definition.  We let our energy flow through the brush, freely spreading color in whatever shape or design we are feeling.  The last time we sat down to “just” paint, I found myself painting a heart.  When I was done, I stopped to reflect on the sheet of watercolor paper in front of me.  My son asked me about my painting.  I looked up and told him I had painted the spectrum of love.   Of course, the puzzled look from a six year old prompted me to continue explaining the colorful heart in front of us. 

The colors on the left side of the heart were lively, with sunny yellow, bright orange and pretty pink.  This cheery side of the heart was free, happy love.  Happy love blended into a sure and vibrant red in the center of the heart.  At this red core was the power of love.  The red became more forceful as it blended into the right side of the heart, filled with darker colors.  The right side of the heart had deep shades of strong blue and powerful purple.  This side of the heart was destructive love--when love becomes controlling and confined.  Love, I explained to my son, is so powerful that it is in everything we do, feel and say.  I told him when we allow love to be, we can enjoy the brilliance of love; but when we try to control love, we experience the dark side of love. 

Love has everything to do with it.  Our ability to love is our greatest gift.  Love can hurt, but love will fulfill.  Like life itself, love flourishes with freedom.  Love!

A GOOD DAY EVERY SINGLE DAY

A man greeted a woman in a grocery store, “Hi, how are you.”

The woman replied, “Hi.”  And she politely asked, “How are you?”

The man enthusiastically stated, “Good.  I am good.  I am always good.  Thanks for asking.”  He became more emphatic as he spoke; as if he was reassuring himself he was feeling good.

The woman silently smiled, and continued picking her Cameo apples.

The man was uncomfortable with her silence.  Unsatisfied, he resumed the conversation, “I am good everyday.  You just have to get up in the morning, and decide today is going to be a good day.  I have a good day everyday.”

The woman smiled again as she selected another apple, but still did not say anything.  She quietly and happily selected two more apples.  

The man was now clearly perturbed by the woman’s silence and finally asked, “What about you?  What kind of day are you having?”

The woman stated very simply, “I’m having a fabulous day.”

The man was pleased she had finally said something, but he was surprised by what she said, “Fabulous, huh?”

The woman selected the last apple she wanted and calmly replied, “Yes, fabulous.  That’s the problem with having a good day everyday:  you’re going to miss out on the fabulous days.”

If everyday is a good day, something is wrong.  Experience everything life has to offer; experience the good and the bad.  Some days are shitty.  Some days are good.  Some days are shitty and good.  Some days are great.  By embracing all of our feelings, we get to truly experience life—we gain perspective, and we begin to understand living.  Living is not just feeling good all the time.  Life is not always good.  The more we deny pain, the more we dwell and suffer.  When we accept unpleasant emotions and then let them go, we are able to free ourselves from the unpleasantness.  We also gain confidence in our ability to handle whatever comes our way, we begin to connect with people around us, and life becomes more peaceful.  When we hide in a good-day-everyday behind the white picket fence, we miss out on the fabulous days.  

KIDS

For many months after knowing my marriage was over, I thought I had to suck-up my misery, convince my husband to suck-up his misery, and make our traditional family work because I did not want to hurt my kids.  In Robert Emery’s book, The Truth About Children and Divorce, I read three sentences on page 64 over and over again: 

“Divorce is painful.  Despite your fervent desire to protect your children, you cannot prevent them from feeling the pain of divorce.  No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you sacrifice, no matter what you may want, no matter what you are willing to do, this is going to hurt your children.”

As I started to accept the kids were going to hurt regardless of my attempts to protect them, I began to find my way through divorce.  Quickly, I changed my focus from trying to control everything to controlling myself—the only thing I truly could have control over.  It was surely difficult, but I had to get a handle on all my emotions: anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness, pain, loneliness, fear; and I had to get a grip on my behavior: my words, actions and physiological reactions.  A toddler in your arms can feel your anger as your body becomes tense and your heart starts to race. 

With a Master’s degree to verify I was an expert in conflict management, I thought I could find my way on my own.  In a moment of clarity, though, I admitted to myself I was in over my head.  The end of a marriage in a white picket fenced world is more than conflict, it is a colossal failure.  I needed help to find peace in the chaos I was going through.  After interviewing many therapists and psychologists, I found Dr. B.  I was looking for a talented professional who could help me and work with my kids, if necessary.  I knew Dr. B was my guy when I had asked him about his work with young children.  He had replied the goal was to keep the kids out of therapy by working with me and through me on anything related to the kids.  The last resort, he said, was to bring the kids into therapy.  If I was stable and fully functional, my kids would be just fine.  Dr. B also assured me kids have an amazing ability to cope and adapt. 

I might not have been able to give my kids a traditional family; but in a parenting partnership with my ex-husband, have given them endless love and allowed them the carefree joy of childhood they deserve.  The kids are allowed the freedom to openly love both their parents.  We have even taken fun vacations together as a family.  The result of two happy parents who found the courage to break free of the white picket fence is two genuinely happy, sweet and secure kids.   

UNTIL DEATH DO US PART?

Why are we expected to get married?  What is marriage?  Do we really need to get married to be “fruitful” and “multiply?”  Clearly, humans are capable of procreating without marriage.  Will people be more faithful to their spouse because they are married?  Will people be more responsible for their children if they are married?  Perhaps people would be more faithful and responsible in partnerships they choose to be in, rather than a relationship they have to be in.

When we live in our perfect white picket fenced lives as wife and husband, do we change our expectations of each other?  Is there a difference between how you treated your partner when she was your chick and when she became your wife?  How did your expectations of your guy change after he became your husband? 

I was married for a decade, but I cannot come up with a good answer to the question, “why should people get married?”   Marriage seems to provide a false sense of security that your husband or wife will, until death, be yours.   Is marriage a way to possess the person you love?   

FACEBOOK

Please visit my Facebook page: Free Of The White Picket Fence.  The Facebook page has additional insights and links.  Thanks!

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Free-Of-The-White-Picket-Fence/248556458608028?ref=stream

VAGINAS

I just read a nytimes.com blog titled, "Twins Don't Need C-Sections."  I knew after reading the title, this was nothing more than a white picket fence message.  I truly believe a woman should have the right to accurate, unbiased information about childbirth and the freedom to choose how she gives birth.   As women strive to be the perfect mother in the white picket fence, they are pressured to give birth vaginally.  This is one ideal I was fortunate to easily escape.  Logic prevailed, and I made a firm and confident decision to give birth to my twin babies by Caesarean section.  I did not need an award for heroics, just healthy babies and a healthy vagina.  I ended-up requiring an emergency C-section, so I was ready for the game plan when the time came to deliver my babies.   I had the best Obstetrician in the world, and he executed the delivery with perfection.

I know vaginal birth is what some women want, and I respect their choice.   I do, however, get upset when I see a woman who wanted vaginal childbirth feel incomplete when she had to have a C-section; or a woman feel embarrassed because she wanted a natural childbirth, but needed an epidural or some other medical intervention.  Why is it so important to give birth in a particular way, regardless of circumstance?  Why is there so much expectation and pressure from everyone about something so personal and individual as childbirth?  

PARENTING

The white picket fenced home is also about being the perfect parent.  Before my babies were born, I went a little crazy.  I had largely purged my house of things that were, by law, treated with fire retardant.  I purchased organic cotton mattresses with wool, a natural fire retardant.  I bought natural, compostable diapers (after trying the old fashioned wash and reuse diapers).  Onesies were unbleached or colored with natural dyes.  Toys were wooden or cloth rather than plastic.  I took my passion for a healthy environment to a whole new level now that my babies were going to be a part of life on Earth. 

I provided my children with the best of everything.  This obsession was not just with things.  I also gave my children every ounce of energy.  In fact, I gave them every morsel of my being.  Clearly, newborn babies; relying on their mother for survival; need an enormous amount of attention, but I was giving absolutely everything trying to be the perfect mother in her white picket fence.

What do kids truly need beyond food, shelter and safety?  All the toys in the world will not replace a parent’s time and attention.  These are the four most important things for me to give my children.  I have found when I practice these four ideas, everything else easily falls into place:

1. Love freely and wholeheartedly.  I kiss my children on their lips, and I have informed them I will continue to do so all my life.  Every single day I tell my children I love them and I melt when they answer, “I know.  I love you too.”  They are allowed to love, and be loved by, both their parents.

2. Be present.  When I am with my children, I try to be in the moment.  If while reading a book, I begin to think about what I might make for dinner, I catch my wandering thoughts and bring myself back to the book.  Being present with your child helps you stay connected to one another, and more importantly, it shows them love.

3. Be respectful.  I do not bark at or try to command my children.  I do not expect my kids to obey me.  Nope.  I set limits for them and empower them with information.  I do require them to listen to their options and the consequences.  Then as informed individuals, they can decide on their action.  We live in a democracy, so we practice democracy at home—though I do have veto powers that a two-thirds majority cannot override.  I treat them as people with intelligence, emotion, the ability to make decisions and the right to honesty.

4. Love and respect yourself.  I cannot teach my children to love and respect themselves if I do not love and respect myself.  This means taking time for myself and doing things that complete me as a woman.  Being a mother is a huge part of who I am, but it is not all that I am. 

When I was constrained within the white picket fence, the children’s rooms were immaculate and all clothes were neatly in place.  In fact, everything in the house was perfect… and I had no energy, no ability to stop and enjoy the moment.  When I broke free of the white picket fence, I focused my energy on the children themselves rather than on doing things for them.  The house is a mess, but I spent an amazing hour with the kids just digging in the dirt for earthworms.  As I write this, there are two loads of laundry on my bed.  The laundry will get folded tonight, but I have already accepted the clothes will not be put away until tomorrow, or maybe the next day.  I need my rest, so tomorrow I can wake-up with a fresh smile at the sight of my children and the energy to keep up with the possibilities of the new day.

NO FENCE

What do we dream about if not the perfect home with the white picket fence?  We dream about not having any fence.  Better yet, we do not just dream about unrestricting ourselves, but we practice living in freedom.  Our nation is built on the principle of freedom.  In our pursuit of freedom in all the things we do in our lives, we miss the biggest one of all—we throw away our freedom to truly live and love by defining our commitment to a partner as marriage. 

I wanted to get married.  It was the next step my family and society taught me.  After I fell in love, I was supposed to get married and then have children and live a happy life in my white picket fenced home.  The problem is that I changed from who I was at 19, to who I was at 25 and at 35.  The man I married changed.  The answer was always the same: marriage takes work, you must compromise, be sensible and make things work-out.  Why do two people have to make their relationship work out when they have both grown into different people over the course of a decade and are no longer in love?  They have to make it work for or the sake of the kids?  Right.  I know truly happy kids have truly happy parents.  In fact, psychologists will confirm a child needs one stable, fully-functional parent to be a healthy, happy child.  The younger kids are, the easier the process of divorce is on them.  They are too young to incorrectly blame themselves and they are very adaptable.

So, no fence means having the freedom to form a partnership with someone you love; and being with him/her because you want to be, rather than because you have to be, with him/her.  Not having a fence means having a family and raising children with freedom.  My romantic or love partnership ended with my husband, but we are still partners as parents.  Until the day I die, I will have a parenting partnership with this man.  Not a business partnership, as some divorce books advise.  The problem with a business partnership is that you are asked to take emotion out of the partnership, but taking emotion out of raising your children does not make sense.  Taking the “I,” “me” and “my” out of the partnership of raising children makes a lot of sense.  The white picket fence tends to support the “I” in disguise as “we” and “us.”  When you take away all the expectations and fences, you are left with love and focus on what is there: the children, your love for them and what is best for them.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

When I got married, I had expectations of myself and of my husband.  I wanted to be a great wife.   I was legitimized in my relationship with this man from “friend” to “girlfriend” to “fiancé” to “wife.”  Why did I need to be his “wife?”  Nothing had changed in our daily lives, yet everything had changed.  My wedding night was surely not the first time I had sex with him.  We started living together after we got engaged.   Looking back, I realize the biggest change that came with the quick exchange of words, the signing of papers and a lot of eating, drinking, dancing and singing:  I was in the relationship because I wanted to be with this man, but suddenly I was also obligated to be in the relationship.  Yup, I was trapped and stuck in the relationship.

I did not expect myself to just be a wife.  Oh no, I had to be a great wife.  I worked hard to earn an equal income.  I encouraged and supported all of my husband’s interests.  On weekends I attended most of his soccer games, and sometimes his basketball games.  I regularly inquired about his work—both his successes and his challenges.  I shopped, I cooked, I baked, I did the laundry, and I maintained a spotless house and a pretty garden.  I worked-out and took care of myself.  I became social coordinator for “us,” ensuring time and communication with my friends, his friends, our friends and both our families.  The problem was I did not do these things for myself or my husband, rather, I did them to be the perfect wife. 

I also had great expectations of my husband.  I expected attention, devotion, love, lust and romance every moment of our lives.  After all, he had also been promoted from “friend” to “boyfriend” to “fiancé” to “husband.”  I wanted this man to understand all my needs without requiring explanation, as any great husband should.  I expected him to respond to my advances regardless of the fact there were two minutes left in the playoff game he was watching.  I expected him to have my back regardless of what was said or done.  And, I expected him to be so completely and utterly in love with me that nothing else in the world would be more important to him than us.

Of course, my parents had expectations of their married daughter and her husband.  My husband’s family had their own set of expectations for their son and daughter-in-law.  Certainly friends had their varied expectations, depending largely on their own marital status, of me as a married woman.  Neighbors, co-workers, actually just about anyone and everyone had an expectation of me as a married woman.  

Busy trying to meet the great expectation to be the ideal family living in the white picket fenced home, I lost myself and my happiness.  It was pretty inside the white picket fence, but it was fluff.  How was I to live up to these expectations?  Why was the definition of perfect in our society so imperfect?

WHITE PICKET FENCE

I had a white picket fence.  Literally, I had a lovely four bedroom, four-and-a-half bath home with a white picket fence.  Red tulips and yellow daffodils bloomed along my white picket fence every spring.   I also had lush bushes of pink and blue hydrangea that lined my front porch.  I lived there with the man I had been married to for a decade.  We worked hard, and played hard.  I empowered him, and he grounded me.  We soared on thriving careers.  Two babies completed our perfect life.  It was a beautiful picture.  

I am not sure if becoming parents brought us to the realization, or if it was just something that comes with age; but suddenly life seemed like it should be about so much more than living there in our white picket fenced home.  Yet, there we were, trapped in a marriage—foolish promises and expectations that would never be met.  We surely had expectations of marriage and each other, but unexpectedly, there were the expectations of those around us.  Our family had expectations of us as a married couple, as did our friends.  I suppose society also has expectations of how married people should act and who they should be.  After having children, those expectations intensified. 

I felt trapped in my perfect little white picket fence.  I moved to a house with a glass fence.  The view only made my imprisonment more intolerable.  Why do we get married?  Why is finding a stable job, getting married, having children, and living in a pretty house the end-all-be-all?  Why is it the perfect life we strive for?  My perfect life did not feel like living, it felt like coasting.   Was I really supposed to spend the rest of my life in a safe, comfortable state of coasting?  No.  And so I began the incredible challenge to break free of the white picket fence.

Breaking free of the white picket fence sounds like an easy and sudden realization, but it was not easy or sudden for me.  No one understood why this perfect life was not enough.  My family, my friends, everyone and anyone thought I was crazy because they believed I had everything in life one should ever want.  Luckily, my husband was going through a similar experience.  His pain was very different in many ways, but equally oppressive.  For me, breaking free was surely somewhat ugly, extremely painful and simply scary, but I trusted myself.  I stood-up for what I believed—for the first time in my life I was so sure and confident of the path I needed and wanted—against the expectations of everyone I knew.  Even people I did not know.  Occasionally, when someone hears I am divorced they look at me with pity.   I laugh every time this happens.  I am not sorry.  I am grateful.  I set myself free, and I truly began to live life.  

The pain is uncomfortable.  Our fear of pain and discomfort keep us safely in our white picket fenced lives.  The complacency made me miserable because it was not truly comfort or safety.  Rather, it was hiding from pain.  Only by tackling pain head-on can we truly find comfort and safety.  Comfort that comes from aligning who we are with who we think we are and who we want to be.  How can we be ourselves when we are so busy trying to meet all the expectations that come with the white picket fence?  It is a pretty, but sad existence.    A year after divorce, I became and still am good friends with my ex-husband, and we spend a great amount of time together with our children because we are not trapped by expectations and burdened by disappointment; instead, we are free and genuinely happy.