I'm Not Buying What You're Yelling

Today I sat with frustration and self-judgment.

I dropped my youngest off at school and took care of a couple errands since I was not substitute teaching (bank deposit, prescription pick up, grabbed a couple items at the grocery store).  Then I headed home to start my day.  I had quite a few things I needed to get completed, a few I wanted to mark off the list, and many other things I'd actually love to do.

First, the necessary-I needed to practice my mindful meditation (yes, it needed to happen). I needed to clean the kitchen, sweep, and mop.  I needed to dust and vacuum.  I needed to wash, dry, and replace the linens on the beds.  I needed to type up and mail out some invoices for my dad's water well business.  There are also some well reports to enter and some payments to reconcile, and a couple of tax things I needed to take a look at.  I also needed to take care of a subscription for an app on the tv that needs to be properly renewed.

Second, the optional-My income taxes are hanging over my head as well and I want to get them finalized.   Both bathrooms could stand to be given a once over as well (but that's not a top priority for today). I should do some yoga. I should make some calls about starting teaching crochet classes.

Last, the longings-Crochet! I'd love to just sit and crochet All The Things! I'm creating a pattern and I'd love to complete it.  I'd love to straighten and organize all the yarn I inherited from my grandmother. I'd love to fire up my metal foundry and work out the kinks in the design.

I got home, the to-do's bouncing around in my head, and I tidied up for a while in the kitchen, gathered linens from one bedroom and placed those in the washer, ate an apple with some peanut butter, and finally made myself take a seat on my cushion to meditate.

I sat for 20 minutes in mindful meditation.

Let me rephrase...I practiced mindful meditation, or better yet, struggled through a practice.

That sounds better.  It's a practice. It's not a performance. It's not perfect. And for me, it's often a task that requires work and tenacity.

I sat and immediately noticed that I actually felt guilty for practicing today.  The guilt comes from the fact that I was able to meditate today at 10:00 a.m.  Why the guilt?  Well, I am not working at a full-time job currently. I substitute and help my dad, but neither of those constitutes full-time employment. And so I never feel like I'm contributing enough. I should not have the time on my hands to sit at 10:00 a.m. I hear the ugly voice in my head yelling, "Get off your ass and get to work! You are not doing enough!"

Rarely do I feel like I do enough, like I am enough.

I don't make enough. I don't work on my dad's business enough. I don't spend enough time with my mom. I don't help out around my parent's house enough. I don't spend enough time with my kids. I don't clean enough, cook enough, exercise enough, meditate enough. I don't keep in touch with my friends enough. I don't support my people enough. I don't see my extended family enough. I don't read enough, journal enough, blog enough. I don't help others enough. I don't advocate or socially engage enough.

I am simply not enough.

I noticed all these feelings clamoring around in my head and I noticed frustration.

I brought my attention back to my breath, to the sound of the washer churning, to the bird chirping, to the coffee pot clicking. I noticed the sound of my breath and my surroundings. I breathed and I sat.

I noticed the judgments, the frustration, and the ugly voice still yelling. I listened to my breath.

I felt the heaviness in my chest, the pressure in my head, the pulse in my temple, the knot in my stomach. I felt the uneven balance in my posture, one wrist touching my thigh more than the other. I felt the irritation at noticing the unevenness.  I sat with the desire to adjust my posture and the stillness I practiced, and I took a deep breath.

I listened to my surroundings and silently repeated the phrase, "What do you notice most in your current field of awareness?" And I noticed my breath and the wind rustling outside the windows.

I noticed the wind a bit more and the ugly voice a tiny bit less. I noticed sadness at the words the voice continued to yell. I continued to feel the weight on my chest.

I noticed my mind wander. I thought about how long I had been sitting, and how much longer it would be until the bell rang to end my practice. I refocused on my breath.

I noticed the light from the sunshine outside changing the shapes inside my closed eyes. I thought about how you can "see" those shapes with your eyes closed. I noticed my mind had wandered off on this "sight" rabbit trail and I returned to my breath.

Eventually, the bell rang and my practice ended. I bowed my head in gratitude for my practice.

I still feel like I am not enough. I still question my worth. I am still frustrated. I still hear that damn ugly voice.

Mindfulness did not miraculously cure my chaotic brain, but it did help me to simply notice what my brain is saying. I can notice what is being said (or shouted) and realize I do not have to always buy what my brain is selling. I can breathe through the yelling.

I can notice, I can breathe, I cannot get hooked, and I can let it be.

Come walk with me...

This is where I sat today.
I'm smiling. I will breathe and let it be.

Happenstance or holy Spirit?

It's been almost a full year since I last posted on here.  When I think about that my head spins.  I have been feeling like writing for a while now, but I hadn't carved out the time and space to actually sit down and write.  Today I must take that time.  A few things occurred that let me know today is that day.

That whole "sitting down" process has not been going well for me lately.  I have not done much actual, formal meditation practice lately.  I have taken five minutes here and there throughout the last year, but nothing terribly consistent.

I would not say I have not practiced at all, not in the least.  And honestly, a fully incorporated daily practice might actually be more meaningful.  Because this is something I have learned to do over time, I find a moment to breathe and notice constantly.

I breathe and notice the sunrise as I prepare my daughter's breakfast.

I breathe and notice the tired cashier as I'm standing in line at the grocery store.

I breathe and notice the leaves rustling in the breeze while waiting to pick up my daughter from school.

I breathe hand notice the calf dancing in the pasture as I wash dishes at the sink.

I breathe and notice the sound of rain dripping off the eaves of the house as I type.

My practice happens like this more often than not. I try to withhold self-judgment and silence the negative voice telling me I'm not doing it right.  I notice and breathe. My chest expands, my practice expands, and my heart becomes full.

The events leading up to my determination to write today are fascinating to me.

I have written some about how my theology has shifted, over many years of my life, from that of a very conservative Evangelical Christian more universalist theology.  I have been feeling like I needed to write more about this because I've had people ask how I went from one end of the spectrum to the other.

A couple weeks ago I read a blog post (shared on Facebook) about a woman's journey away from her conservative Evangelical faith.  She wrote about the fear factor (hell, fire and brimstone preaching) she had been raised with, and I fully related to her story. I sent her a brief email telling her I appreciated her story and thanked her for sharing.

And I thought to myself that I needed to blog again soon.

I have also been catching up on the podcasts from my church in Pennsylvania.  Wellsprings Unitarian Universalist Congregation became my lifeline during some of the darkest days of my life (I've referred to these as the Divorce Years).  This beautiful spiritual community lifted my soul in ways I never dreamed possible.  I found the energy of my pentecostal upbringing in the music and community and a theology of love and grace that jived so perfectly with the path I had been traveling. I will be forever grateful to the ministry of Wellsprings (both pastors and congregants).

I now live in East Texas, but I continue to call Wellsprings my home church.  Due to the podcasts from their services I am able to remain connected and charged full with the charge of the soul.

Today, I listened to a special speaker podcast.  This speaker was introduced by a dear friend of mine at Wellsprings, Lauren. The speaker, Dave Warnock, talked about his journey away from conservative Evangelical faith along with his path and work after leaving the church.  He was a pastor.  I had been married to a minister.  We had a lot in common in our journeys.

After listening I sent a message to both Lauren and Dave.  I thanked them for their willingness to share and let them know I had been blessed by each of them.  It can be isolating, at times, living in the buckle of the Bible belt and not having a traditional Christian faith. I had to express my gratitude.

And again, I thought about blogging, sharing some of what I had heard and the warm feeling of connectedness it created in me.

Then, surprisingly,  the speaker messaged me back.  He mentioned he had a friend in East Texas and he thought we should connect. She had recently deconstructed her conservative Evangelical faith and he thought we would appreciate meeting. That's when I remembered the woman I had thanked for her blog post was actually from another town in East Texas.  What would be the odds that his friend and the blogger I had thanked were one and the same?!!  Small world indeed.

This is when I knew I had to write.  In the spiritual language of my upbringing, one would say God had brought us together.  Maybe some are comfortable with that language. Maybe not.  Was it a coincidence? Happenstance? Holy Spirit? Energy? Divine Love? Light? The Universe?

Who cares what you call it? Pieces fell into place today, and I am blessed.

I will breathe and notice how the puzzle pieces fell together today.

I will breathe and notice the joy of happenstance.

I will breathe and notice and share this story.