We all yearn for so much, and wind up settling for so little. Why is that? It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning, we were very, very grand in our largess*, aliveness and possibility. And then…the world got to us. We believed what “they” said, felt and did. We took in their ideas of what was true, not true, possible, and not possible. The fears, disappointments and judgments of others entered our open, vulnerable and unprotected little bodies and minds. And in the end, we tamed our spirits down to fit into a box that allowed us to belong.

We have become far too comfortable and familiar with our self-made and self-imposed boxes. It will require thinking and acting in novel, unfamiliar and contrary ways to break that box down. Make it a daily practice to throw away what it is that cautions you. Stop listening to the tyranny of the rational mind that cites all the documentation and evidence for why it can’t or shouldn’t happen. Let the ache of what you yearn for be your guide. Let the rawness of your own vulnerability let you know when you are on the right path. And let the fear and the terror around “what will they do or think” alert you to the truth: Our greatest power will present itself to us initially as our greatest fear.

* “Generous bestowal of gifts” is the definition of largess and perfectly describes the truth of what we came in with.

Habits. We all have them. Habits of thinking, eating, moving, feeling and of being in relationship. Like a well worn path they offer us familiar comfort and a sense of security in the world. They give us something to count on, to lean into, serving as an oasis of stability in an ever-changing world. Simultaneously, they are exactly what limits us. Exactly what keeps us from our goals, dreams and desires for other ways of being. Over time, we can even make life-depleting habits the ones we turn to out of routine, security and a lack of skill or awareness. And even though they might be keeping us from our heart’s desire, they are indeed the devil we know and prefer. In the words of Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, we “normalize the abnormal,” making the wrong things the foundation of our lives.

One of the most energizing things we can do around ingrained habits is to look at what it costs us to do what we do. For indeed, what we do moment by moment and day by day is in fact what creates the sum total of our lives. Imagine if you could add up all of the habits you keep and the equation would show you a visual depicting the life that you have chosen. What would your image be? Knowingly or not this is exactly what we do, every day. Our habits become so second-nature, so unconscious, that we do not even challenge their presence in our lives. Like a hamster on a wheel, we fill and create our lives by playing them out over and over again. Day after day.  And, in the end, we wind up going nowhere.

Try this. Identify something you feel is a habit that no longer serves you. Try and take an attitude of non-judgment. When we judge we shut down the possibility of learning and set up a conflict within ourselves further entrenching the very thing we are trying to walk away from. So, after you identify what it is, work to disarm. Then, begin to learn about this habit of yours. How has it served you? You do it regularly, it must be there for some reason. What might that reason be? Spend time genuinely thanking it for the role it has played in your life. Let it know that while grateful, you are ready to move on. Lastly, notice when the habit arises, and before you engage, pause. If only for a second. Contained in the pause is the seed for a new habit. One that quite likely is more aligned with the truth of who you are and the life you are yearning to live.

“People do not decide their futures, They decide their habits and their habits decide their futures.”   ~F.M. Alexander

Over the years, my daily practice has shifted. While I have several “formal” practices like yoga, meditation, contemplative writing and dance, there is one “practice” that is winning out these days. It is the practice of doing nothing. Not a thing.

I begin my doing nothing by sitting on the couch. That’s it. I don’t pray or meditate or write. I sit and I sit and I sit. I notice my body, my thoughts, my breath. I allow myself to be without agenda, other than to be with myself as is. But  mostly, I wait. I wait until I am urged from within to take the next step. That next step might be to start moving or write in my journal. Just as likely, it might be to close my eyes, go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. During my nothing times there is no preconceived idea of what should or should not happen. The Tao Te Ching asks, “Do you have the patience to wait ’till your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving ’till the right action arises by itself?”

In a world so forcibly driven forward, the idea of doing nothing can feel like death, laziness, or a risk too dangerous to take. And yet, without built in times to let our mud settle, we run the risk of entrenching the wrong habits. We run the risk of reacting versus responding. We run the risk of spending our whole lives running on a treadmill to nowhere. Let nothing give you everything you need.

When I was growing up, our neighborhood gang of friends would play a chase and capture game. Strategically positioned throughout the designated boundaries of the game were “ghouls;” places that if your body was making contact to the exact spot, you were safe. For a few sweet and nerve racking moments you were secure, free from harm. And then just as quickly, you were thrust back into the frenzy of the chase. It sometimes feels to me that this is the game we grown-ups continue to play. Rushing from one thing to the next, we momentarily touch down, only to propel ourselves back out into the busyness of our lives.

Life is not a game of capture and chase. Nor is life an emergency. And yet, that is exactly how many of us are living. We slam from place to place throughout the day; skidding across the finish line of our to-do lists and responsibilities, both exhausted and wired. Even the so-called “healthy and good” things we do for ourselves, like going to  a yoga class, rev us up as we race to get there on time. Living in a state of emergency stresses our digestion, impairs our sleep, and compromises our health. Our state of mind is one of survival. In survival mind, everyone and everything that thwarts our forward progress is an obstacle at best and a threat at worst. Look out into our world and it is not difficult to see the consequences of this collective “game” we play.

To choose another way is to go against the grain of our society. To choose another way is to stop creating an identity built on stress and busyness. To choose another way is to be willing to say no to a dehumanizing pace and set of expectations. It is to opt out. It is to agree and say to yourself regularly, “Life is not an emergency.“

I was recently introduced to a wonderful meditation technique. To try it, find 5 quiet minutes someplace. Anyplace. Sit with your eyes closed. Settle into your breathing. Begin to focus on something or someone that you really care about. Let images and feelings wash through you and over you. What do you care most about in all the world? Who do you care most about? (It could be you!) Focus on that for 5 minutes. Let it take whatever shape it wants to take. Notice how you feel when you are done.

Many people feel as though their minds are too active to meditate. And though it takes effort, the truth is, we are all capable of focusing our minds. When we were very young, this ability came naturally. The trick is to find a focus that anchors you in such a way that you remain engaged even when the ordinary mind goes wandering off all over the place. The simple act of returning over and over to our focus generates an awareness of ourselves and how our minds operate. And that awareness is what changes our inner and outer worlds. Can you imagine a moment in time when the whole world focused not on what it was afraid of or wanted to condemn or control, but on what mattered most to all of us? That would be heaven on earth.

“Don’t push this day,” is what I hear as I am about to leap frog over the day on my way to somewhere “better.”

“Don’t push this day, what if it is your last?”

“Don’t push this day, it is no less than any other day.”

“Don’t push this day, making time your enemy.”

“Don’t push this day, ignoring who stands in front of you.”

“Don’t push this day, believing your salvation lies in another time.”

“Don’t push this day to satiate the ever-hungry to-do list.”

Teach your mind; “This day. This day. This day.”

Many of us don’t want to admit to ourselves, never mind say out loud, “I don’t know.” We want to believe, have been conditioned to believe, that to know in terms of the thinking, rational mind is above all else. We believe that if we gather enough information, stay plugged in often enough, stay abreast of the latest breaking news story that we will be OK, protected, informed. Only… Life is constantly reminding us that we can’t control the “weather” of the world. There is only so much preparation we can do for a “super storm.” Only so many bags of ice to buy. Only so many packs of batteries to squirrel away. Only so many tanks of gas to fill up.

The truth is, we don’t even know whether we will make it to tonight. And the inability to be with that level of uncertainty is why we scramble the way we do. It seems so much more predictable, orderly and guaranteed to be continually amassing information, weighing odds and controlling things through hyper-vigilance, anxiety, busyness and compulsiveness. It almost seems like if we could just outwit, out-think, out-prepare what life might churn up for us, we would be alright. And at times there is the illusion that all of our efforts in that department are working.  Right up to the very moment when it stops working. And that time will come, regardless of how we have “prepared.” Maybe the storm will hit your home in the form of illness, disease, job loss, or tragedy. Maybe your faith will be shattered or another will betray you. Maybe you will notice that there is no way to outrun death or aging.

Is this all there is then? Just letting the weather of the world have its way with us? All of the great contemplative traditions point to the practice of letting go, of saying “I don’t know” to All That Is and to all that might happen. How can we even begin to work with something so enormous? Something many of us spend most of our days trying to hide from? Try the practice of “not knowing” in your day to day. In his book, A Year of Living Consciously, Gay Hendricks recommends repeating the words “I don’t know” throughout the day and then seeing what happens. Find times throughout your day when you can sincerely use the mantra “I don’t know.” Watch for the opportunities, the magic, and the Mystery that now has a chance to unfold because you and all of your knowing is not taking up all of the space.  Because of your willingness to empty yourself of the burden of having to know what you cannot know, miracles get to happen.

P.S. Knowing everything sounds like a job description for The Almighty.

What is true for you right now? In this moment. Beyond what they told you, and beyond what they continue to tell you. Beyond “right” and beyond “wrong”. Beyond living up to your own ideas about who you think you should be and what you should believe. What is real? Do you even know? Would you know it if you felt it? Do you know how to get there? If not, begin. Just begin. Start by asking yourself, each and every day: “What is true for me right now?” And then, say “Yes” to whatever shows up.

Several years ago, I had a firsthand experience of Occupy Wallstreet. My husband, myself and my two children went to New York City for a day to see for ourselves what was happening. At that point I had intentionally read no news accounts of the events unfolding as I wanted to see without prejudice. When we arrived I was immediately overwhelmed and terrified. It looked like we had walked into a desperate, and potentially dangerous,1930’s shanty town. I felt frozen. What was I thinking? Why had I brought my children to this place?

Gathering myself, I walked into the heart of what initially looked to me like a homeless hangout; people were lying on the cold ground in the middle of the day. Some people were scrounging for food. It looked like a mess. The only thing that kept me walking further into this place was the fact that we had brought things to donate and because I was trying desperately to stay open. Even though I had avoided the news station’s versions so as not to be influenced, I was up against a wall of my own heretofore unexamined prejudice.

But here is what I found: A well planned layout with a walkway that snaked its way through and past everything a growing community would need. There were areas for basic survival needs; food, clothes, and shelter items. There were medical, legal and technology stations. There were times for spiritual practice in community. There was a library and a newspaper. There were people trained in non-violent communication who wandered around and made themselves available when disputes arose. And there were 30 “working groups” who daily came together to solve the issues the community faced. Had I gotten my information from typical news sources, I would have received a different picture. As a matter of fact, I had picked up Newsweek on the way in and when I read their account, their portrayal in no way reflected my experience. IN NO WAY.

We are living in a time where we consume seemingly endless amounts of information and images from sources too vast to keep track of and too far removed to properly vet. This leaves us vulnerable to interpretations that may or may not be true, exposing us to things that at best may not serve and at worst do harm. The technologies regularly offer and create ways to alter our perception of what is real. How will we ever know what is true? How will we stay connected to what is real?

Joseph Campbell once wrote, “You must have a room or a certain hour or so a day where you don’t know what is in the newspapers that morning…A place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be…At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred space and use it, something eventually will happen.”

We must have regular space where no one knows where we are or what we are doing. A time when we are accountable to no one. A protected place where we do not have to put on any particular face, and where what we do or how we move (or not move), is up to us.

It is in these moments that we catch a glimpse of our authenticity. It is in these places that we come to know ourselves and find our voice. It is in these spaces that we discover our many faces, both hidden and public. And it is in these times that we are made real.

These past weeks have been a blur of frisbee tournaments, music shows, prom, graduation, teenage schedules and emotion. In between have been my attempts to slow down, notice, come back to center. I have been struck by the Herculean effort it has required of me to honor what matters most in the midst of an overwhelming schedule and pace.

This speaks to a common malady of our times; too much going on. Too busy. We rush and we chase. We slide into home just in the nick of time. We overload our schedules with have to’s and couldn’t possibly not do’s. Some of what fills our time we argue is a requirement of living. Maybe. And some of it is driven by the fear of missing out on something and the anxiety of not doing enough. And then of course is the sea we are swimming in, for all around us we are encouraged and often required to be overloaded by our places of work and the institutions we are associated with. We are in a pickle of our own making. And in this marinade we are letting go of what matters most.

In the flurry of these past weeks, I have noticed some things I was “forced” to let go of. I see that when I am already overwhelmed, something as insignificant as ants showing up in my kitchen makes me feel like I am going to have a nervous breakdown at the thought of having one more thing to do. I see that precious food gets lost in my refrigerator, going to waste and putting me in violation of things I hold dear. I see myself shoving and throwing things into the basement, creating a big mess and losing track of resources which means that I wind up buying things I do not need. I see my body holding more tension and sleeping less well. I see myself eating on the go and eating foods that do not nourish me. I see myself buying take-out and convenience foods adding to the destruction of the earth and our good health. I see a pile of creative ideas shoved into a closet along with homemade medicinals; both left untended on a shelf. I see myself less tuned in to the subtleties of my own rhythms and the energies of those around me. And I see how the things that support a good life become dogged have-to’s and inconveniences.

We are moving too fast and doing too much, and every one of our speedy choices sets off a chain reaction of events. A rippling effect that moves out of the center of every choice we make. In our overwhelm, we lose track of what we truly value and what makes for a good life. Do you have any idea whether your stated values are in line with how you are living? Do you have a way of catching up with yourself? Something that helps you to know? Without these practices we are at the mercy and tyranny of a world gone mad with ever increasing speed and never ending lists of things to do.