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There's so much to think about today. Last night's Republican debate. Sexual abuse allegations at Penn State. Memory-preserving health tips. The fact that so many bad restaurants lure unsuspecting patrons through Groupon. And so on and so forth.
Oddly enough, though, my brain feels sort of empty this morning. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep or the stress over my latest writing project or the inevitable condition of brain overload, but whatever the reason, I simply don't feel like thinking today. Although it's not going to happen – 'cause, unfortunately, I have lots of work to do – I would love to just spend the day meditating, lying on a hammock, floating in a pool, or watching a marathon of silly movies.
Do you ever have days like that?
As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been a frequent visitor to a site called Come In Character, where authors and characters can interact in a creative, sometimes therapeutic way. Well, yesterday marked my first day as a regular contributor to the site, and perhaps due to my current frame of mind, I decided to focus on “frustration” as a conversation starter.
As it turned out, several authors and their characters had frustrations of their own, which was infinitely reassuring. Not that I wish misery on anyone else, but sometimes, when you’re feeling a bit lost – hurt by the economy, confused about your path in life, doubtful that your fiction will ever see the light of day, and overwhelmed by the responsibilities and promises in your life – it reassures you to know that you’re not alone in your daily struggle... that you’re not like this sad gorilla, isolated by your own dismay.
Airing a few of my frustrations and hearing others’ troubles – even in an entertaining forum like Come In Character – actually urged me to consider the things that routinely make me feel happy, grateful, inspired, and tranquil – especially when life seems most stressful and uncertain. In no particular order, here are my eleven keys to serenity:
Willie’s music: Even as a child, I found Willie Nelson’s unique voice incredibly soothing, and his laidback spirit extremely inspiring. I listened to my mom’s records often – so much so that he quickly became my favorite musician – and still is today. I’ve even seen him in concert on more than one occasion – once, on a trip to Branson, Missouri, with my mom, and, several years later, at the House of Blues in Chicago. When I was considering a career in the U.U. ministry (a long story that I won’t divulge today), I even wrote and delivered a sermon about him – in particular, about how spirituality can be found in the most unlikely of places. For me, a lifelong atheist, I’d always gotten a spiritual jolt from Willie’s songs – somehow, his words and music calmed me in a way that prayers do for others. Even today, when deadlines and commitments threaten to break me, I just have to listen to one of his many albums, and the stress dissipates. While many different types of music – from movie scores to Irish ballads – can calm me, too, there’s nothing quite like Willie – whatever you might think of him, he’s truly one-of-a-kind.
Favorite flicks: Some of my favorite movies can do the trick, too. Whenever the current state of publishing unnerves me – whenever the stiff competition, troublesome guidelines, and improbable odds make me question the sanity of my writing goals – I simply have to watch one of my favorite life-affirming flicks, from Waking Ned Devine (1998) to Wonder Boys (2000), and I’m back on the path again.
Good food: What can I say? I was born and raised in New Orleans – how could food not be a big part of my life? In fact, it’s often too big a part of my life – I depend on it, at times, for more than just sustenance. Certain foods – like raw oysters, dark chocolate, sweet cherries, tomato basil bisque, havarti cheese, kalamata olives, and lemon poppyseed muffins – have a way of bringing me a lasting moment of joy and reminding me that there’s a lot to appreciate in this complicated world. Of course, when it comes to yummy foods, it’s all about portion control – not just for health reasons, but also because the less often I indulge, the more I appreciate it when I do.
Yoga: As I explained in a recent post, I’ve been practicing yoga (off and on) for nearly a decade, and the only thing that derails me at times is my inability to stick to a schedule. It actually has nothing to do with yoga itself – which I absolutely adore. Like many people, though, I often let projects and responsibilities usurp things like exercise – and it’s a constant struggle to realign my priorities. But when I do make time for a few yoga poses, it does wonders for my body as well as my psyche – and relaxes me like nothing else. Maybe what I need is more yoga and less cheese in my life. Hmm... that’s something to think about.
Natural world: Although I grew up in an urban area, I’ve always loved the outdoors. Whether camping in a forest, hiking up a mountain, fishing in a bayou, swimming alongside a beach, even exploring the desert, I feel a sense of wonder and peace in the natural world. That’s why I love living in northern Michigan during the summer months. It’s hard to stay stressed in such a beautiful, somewhat remote place. A long walk in the woods or a nice swim in the lake is usually all it takes for me to relax and refocus. If only I could take this clean air with me back to New Orleans and Los Angeles.
Meditation: Yoga certainly incorporates an element of meditation. Key poses – such as “cat” and “corpse” – as well as the focus on breathing help me to quiet my thoughts, unwind my nerves, and concentrate on, well, nothing. But sometimes, it’s nice to roll up the yoga mat, find an out-of-the-way place, and simply sit still for a while, meditating on the cosmic web, the meaning of life, my place in the world, or nothing at all. In our fast-paced world, it’s hard to take such time for ourselves, but I always feel better after I do.
Sleep: No matter what I do, it seems as though my “to do” list grows longer every day, and my schedule gets more inconsistent all the time. Ironically, though I make less money now as a freelancer than I did when I worked for “The Man,” I find that I work harder and have crazier hours than I ever did when I was living a normal post-college life in Chicago. I’m juggling so much more these days, and sleep is not the priority that it once was. That’s not a good thing, I know – as my mother is fond of telling me, poor sleep habits can cause all sorts of problems down the road, from hypertension and heart disease to stroke and cancer. Besides body health, though, sleep is also excellent for mental health – something I experience for myself whenever I manage to get a good night’s sleep, and I must admit there’s nothing quite like waking up after a solid rest and a medley of memorable dreams, some of which have inspired my stories.
Writing passion: This might seem bizarre, but sometimes, when I’m feeling discouraged by the modern publishing industry and stressed by all the revision work ahead of me, I find strength and peace in the realization that there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than writing. I wrote skits as a child, short stories and scripts as a teenager, longer works (like novellas and screenplays) in college, and a novel in my post-college life – and at every step of the way, I’ve loved escaping into the worlds I’ve created and interacting with my characters. They’ve calmed me – even when the road to publishing seems insurmountable – and given me a reason to keep trying.
Rich experiences: I think it’s easy for all of us to slip into regret and disillusionment at times. Am I on the right career path? Am I with the right person? Should I have waited to have kids? Should I go back to school? Should I have sewn my wild oats when I had the chance? No matter what the pressing issue at the moment, it’s critical that we embrace the positive aspects of our life experiences. When I’m feeling down about something or confused about my direction, I try to focus on the rich experiences that have defined my life: fishing excursions with my dad, road trips with my mom, close relationships with my grandparents, my vision quest experience as an adolescent, good times at Northwestern, all of the unusual travels that I’ve shared with my husband, and all the crazy things we’ve seen over the years (including the Florida Keys’ obsession with manatee mailboxes). And I realize that I wouldn’t trade any of those memories for all the money and fame in the world.
Supportive hubby: No doubt about it – what really keeps me going at times is the love, respect, and support that I get from my husband. Dan is truly my best friend, my favorite traveling companion, and the person who keeps me on track when stress and self-doubt threaten to derail me. He encourages me when the odds of publishing success seem impossible. He urges me to keep trying, no matter what, and in the immortal words of Galaxy Quest to “never give up, never surrender.” Hopefully, I do the same for him.
Loving kitty: During the first week of this blog, I posted an ode to my cat, Ruby Azazel, a furry feline with a sweet face, an affectionate nature, and a mind of her own. What I said then still holds true today. “When the best of intentions fall apart, all I have to do is look at Ruby – sleeping on a pillow, nibbling treats from my palm, staring at a chipmunk outside the window, leaping up and down the stairs, or doing one of a dozen other favorite activities – and I feel a great sense of calm, love, and perspective. Because most things – save for perhaps death or the knowledge of some terminal illness – aren't worth all the worry through which we put ourselves. One look at my crazy, little girl, and I know that’s true.”
So, what helps you overcome stress, frustration, self-doubt, and all the other nasty little entities that plague us at times?
There’s no doubt that one’s environment can enhance or hinder the act of meditation. Woody Allen, for instance, once said that he finds it easier to fall asleep in Manhattan – with its 24-hour soundtrack of horns, sirens, and other urban distractions – than in the countryside, where the crickets and, worse, silence drive him insane. (Perhaps that explains a few things about that strange little man.)
In my case, though, I definitely find more peace in the natural world – which is probably why I always look forward to my summers in northern Michigan. Doing yoga amid the maple and birch trees, watching the sunrise over the lake, heck, even lying on the hammock, I can literally feel my blood pressure lowering, my lungs breathing easier, my muscles relaxing. And I know that it simply wouldn’t be the same in a city like New Orleans or Los Angeles, where it’s hard to escape the ever-present sounds of crowds and traffic.
Luckily, despite its bustling cities, crowded national parks, and other overwhelming destinations, America boasts an assortment of tranquil places. Some of my favorites include the desolate coastline of Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, the sculpted cliffs of California’s Red Rock Canyon State Park, the quiet saltwater marshes southeast of New Orleans, and the isolated mudflats on the northern end of South Padre Island. Regardless of what I’m doing – hiking, fishing, or just sitting in the sand – such locales make it easier for me to be still for a while, forget the day-to-day grind, and contemplate the bigger questions about life, the universe, and everything.
So, what about you? Do you believe that a person’s environment can enhance his or her meditation, and if so, what’s your favorite place of serenity?
Growing up as a Unitarian Universalist had both benefits and drawbacks. On the positive side, I met a lot of wonderful friends, attended plenty of potluck dinners and camping retreats, learned a great deal about a variety of religions, and realized that it was okay to be an atheist. On the negative side, I was considered a bit of a freak beyond the doors of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans.
Unfortunately, I didn’t go to school with any of my U.U. pals, and the private school that I attended from sixth to eighth grades was mostly populated by Catholics who had never heard of Unitarian Universalism before. Even the few Jews and Hindus at my school didn’t seem impressed when I told them that people like Thomas Jefferson, Charles Darwin, Beatrix Potter, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Pete Seeger had been Unitarians, too.
It didn’t matter, though. I loved being a Unitarian Universalist; I loved being part of a small group of U.U. youths. That is, until my thirteenth year approached, and I realized that, unlike my Jewish and Catholic friends, U.U. adolescents had no official coming-of-age ceremony. So, determined to mark our passing into adulthood, the four of us (Julia, Antonia, Daryl, and I) decided to create a ceremony of our own. Luckily, one of the church members discovered a man named James, who operated a vision quest camp in the woods of southern Mississippi, and after meeting with him, our parents quickly approved our plan to experience a weeklong La Terre Quest in the summer of 1990 - just prior to our freshman year of high school.
Our quest began on Monday, June 25. After reaching James' property, the four of us met his family, plus his two assistants (Keith and Steve) and the other two members of our quest (Sean and Jeremy). Then, we trekked across a wide creek and into the woods that would be our home for the next six days. Following a group meeting – during which we each received a blank journal – we were led to our campsites, each of which consisted of a tarp draped over a line between two trees. Beneath the tarp lay a pile of dry leaves, over which I laid my sleeping bag. After lunch, I chose a meditation spot in a nearby copse of pine trees, then sat down to sketch my campsite.
Over the course of the week, the six of us learned a great deal about warriors, red roads, medicine wheels, and the like. We ate plenty of granola, experienced numerous council gatherings in a teepee, crafted spirit totems from natural clay deposits, sewed medicine pouches (which we filled with symbolic seeds and other items), scribbled in our journals, created personal myths, bathed and washed our clothes with creek water, battled humidity and insects, and spent a lot of time meditating alone.
On the last day, we fasted – and the “vision” we experienced that last night inspired our spirit names. Mine was Monkey, Seeker of Knowledge (years later, following a three-day fast and vision quest, it would become Otter, Watching the Leaf). Despite our joking complaints about the lack of activity – which later inspired James to christen ours “The Sit and Do Nothing Quest” – we all learned so much from this unique experience.
In fact, words can barely describe how incredible my first vision quest was. It meant so much to me that it became the inspiration for my second novel, currently in progress. Although I lost my spirit totem (a pig face) and my symbolic staff in Hurricane Katrina, I still have my old journal, my medicine pouch, and a string of beads that signify the cardinal directions of the medicine wheel: green for the innocent mouse of the South, black for the introspective bear of the West, white for the wise buffalo of the North, and yellow for the illuminated eagle of the East.
While I still suffer from the same weaknesses – such as doubt, procrastination, nervousness, perfectionism, selfishness, fear, and self-pity – that I did prior to the vision quest, lessons learned during the quest have stayed with me through the years. Lessons like releasing the past, dispelling worry about the future, living life to the fullest, and letting nothing capture my awareness. I have yet to master such lessons, of course, but I’ll always be grateful to James for putting them in my head in the first place... no matter that the four of us came home hungry, dirty, itchy, and stinky. Ah, what a high price we pay for peace of mind.
There's so much to think about today. Last night's Republican debate. Sexual abuse allegations at Penn State. Memory-preserving health tips. The fact that so many bad restaurants lure unsuspecting patrons through Groupon. And so on and so forth.
