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.