Lessons from Lincoln

Lincoln engaged in his favorite activity - tearing the stuffing from his bed

Navigating life with three children--two grown and one still under my care--after divorce has been the greatest lesson of my life.  When I can step back and have awareness of what living beyond a 19 year marriage has yielded in terms of growth, I am so very grateful.  Yet, I am not immune to moments of anger, sadness, loneliness and simply being misunderstood and under-appreciated. This week, I felt a sense of being under-appreciated by an adult child.  I wanted my child to acknowledge my sacrifices, my this, my that....  In short, I expected to be validated in a way that only I can give to myself.  Those who have college-age kids can relate to the competing forces of guiding while letting go as our adult children search for a balance between independence and autonomy while still needing support and acceptance.  The answer to balancing those contrasting ideals came to me from an unlikely source--my dog, Lincoln.

Spiritual writer and philosopher, Mark Nepo, said when recounting the words of a Native American elder, "Animals never forget their original instructions, but human beings do."  Those instructions are to love and accept unconditionally.  When my adult children show up during summer breaks and holidays, they are met with the embrace of Lincoln shaking his tail uncontrollably at the door and jumping with excitement because they are simply in the room.  His excitement belies anything given in return.  If they ignore him when they came in, Lincoln holds the same enthusiasm.  He has no expectation of outcome.  He only wants to express his love.

As my adult child left our home, stooping to pet our precious Lincoln with a pure sense of love toward our rescued Pitbull from a just outside of the beltway Washington, D.C. shelter (thus the name, Lincoln), a flood of understanding filled my body.

I had forgotten my original instruction as a mother--to love and accept unconditionally.  I was not in the moment of the gift of my child visiting.  I was outside of that moment in my head with all kinds of expectations from my child, from myself and for the future of our separate and mutual lives.  I fell outside of experiencing what was right before me--the loving gift of being a mother. 

Lincoln taught me to release my grown children to their own journeys and to honor their choices while I honor my own.  Like Lincoln standing at the front door sensing the beauty of his beloved family before they even come into view, I will no longer take for granted the gift of having a beautiful soul come to me, a soul that come through me, by allowing that soul to walk at their own pace along side of me in this life.  Whether or not I see them next to me, behind me, in front of me or not at all, I can sense them, like Lincoln, being not too far off in the distance.

Four Ways to Solve Pressing Problems

Photo By Azure McBride

The meditative mind is a creative, open and aware mind.  Learning to harness that energy can produce amazing results in business, love or in any area of our lives.  We can direct that fertile energy by tapping our meditative mind in these four ways:

1.       Give Yourself Permission to Solve Problems in Your Sleep

Dreams have informed me for much of my life.  I began writing my memoir based on a recurring dream of my father.  To use the information in your dreams, set an intention to resolve a problem before you go to bed.  Simply state the problem and ask that the answer be given while you sleep.  If you fear you may have trouble remembering your dream, set an intention to remember the dream by saying to yourself several times, "I will remember my dream when I wake up."  It is a simple practice, but it does work.  Place a notebook by your bed and when you wake, record your dream.  Clues to solving stubborn issues may appear.  You may need to repeat this practice over several days or weeks, but with time you will see a theme emerging from your dreams that will give you guidance.  It is not wishful thinking, scientists are discovering more about our dreams and how the brain functions every day.  Robert Strickgold, associate professor of psychiatry at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center and Harvard Medical School states: "...sleep permits a time when the brain can search for and identify useful associations between recently formed emotional memories and older ones, helping to place them in a more useful context, from which their resolution may become more readily apparent."

2.       Take a Mindful Walk

Albert Einstein and writer Virginia Woolf both took walks to clear their minds to create the space for new ideas to emerge.  Walking, especially in nature, can quiet the voices in our heads that keep us from getting a clear answer to our problems.  Walking can also help us break through creative blocks.  Taking a mindful walk simply means quietly putting our attention on our surroundings.  We do not need to overly observe, all that is required is to gently notice.  When we find our mind cluttering up with worries or chores of the day, we can redirect our attention towards our environment.  When we consciously let go of whatever it is that is plaguing us and decide to enjoy every step of our path, our mind is open to new ideas and solutions.

3.       Deep Breathing

The art of deep breathing from the diaphragm is as old as man and is a practice used by athletes, women in labor, singers, actors and in mediation.  I find this practice to be quickest and easiest way to reset my inner emotional landscape, and I use it daily if not several times per day.  Deep breathing facilitates an  energy that the Chinese call Chi, the Hindu call Prana and masters of old and scientist today tout can strengthen the body, make us calmer and even happier.  We can take a deep breath any time we feel stressed, hold it for a count of three or four and then release it fully like deflating a balloon to recharge our bodies and minds. 

4.       Create a Mantra

Creating a mantra is another practice that I use often.  By simply repeating a phrase such as "I know the answer," "I trust," or a popular mediation mantra, "I am," connecting ourselves with our divine entity if we so believe, a more positive mental state can be achieved.  The easy practice of creating a mantra and repeating it to ourselves several times when we feel stuck can redirect our thinking and infuse us with confidence and hope.

Thank You For Sharing Toshi's Story - Guest Blogger Karen T.

This piece reminds me of how tomorrow is not promised. I've been thinking so much about my friend, Yvette, who died in 1989 from going toxic. She had chemotherapy for leukemia.

Karen is a writer, editor, poet, singer, spoken word performance artists

She was the person who taught me what friendship was about.

She was so religious. She and I used to talk about faith all the time, and she, like most true believers, accepted my atheism. She had a roommate in the hospital who had skin cancer. Her face was oozy and discolored. The woman whined all the time: "Why me? Why me? Why me?" She drove Yvette crazy, and Yvette said one of the most profound things I have ever heard, and that was, "She does not understand the crucifixion."

That's when I understood what her level of belief was. She accepted her fate as something that her god had control over.  She was a CPA/auditor type and didn't want to go back to that work. I told her to go to St. John's to study theology, and she was just about ready to do that when she died. Twenty-nine years old. Broke my heart down to the nitty gritty.

The Gift of Uncertainty

Toshi and I at the Event
Photo by

CreativeLens Photography

When I was 8 years old, I mapped out my whole life.  I would marry a wonderful man at 25, have two children (a boy and a girl of course), and live happily ever after in a house that I would design that sat on a wooded lot in northern California (I spared no details).  Well, despite my planning, many twists in my life foiled my plans.  I kicked and screamed through most of those detours cursing the fact that my precious plans had been derailed. 

The fight to know, to get it right, to make it work, to plan and schedule our goals and dreams seems to be the impermeable imprint on our lives.  I listened to the words of a woman whom I love as a sister.  This woman sits at the helm of an organization that champions other women.  Her words came at the most planned for, anticipated and seminal annual fundraising event for her organization.  At the event, our friend, Toshi, collapsed right after the sit-down dinner and auction.  She was unconscious.  Three nurses in their party dresses, floppy hats and high-heeled shoes were immediately by Toshi's side.  With moist eyes, my sister-friend said:

            "I did not plan for this."   

Her words haunted me.  She bore the burden of planning for someone's illness like I bore the burden of planning out my entire life at the age of 8.  Yes, we are to plan, to participate, to engage in the details of our lives, but we are also supposed to let go.  That letting go is a beautiful gift that we often restrict ourselves from receiving.  Elizabeth Lesser, author of Broken Open, said "My spiritual practice is all about becoming comfortable in uncertainty."  When we have planned the best we can, and dreamed as high as we can dream, the only next logical step is to let go.

I let go that night when Toshi was taken to the hospital by ambulance.  I let go when five hours later she remained in a coma.  I let go two days later when she passed from this life.  A peacefulness settled inside of me when I was told she was no longer physically a part of our world.  A deep sense of gratitude flooded my being for experiencing the power of Toshi's life.  Settling with ease and comfort into the mysteriousness of the unknown can yield greater gifts than our most tediously detailed and perfectly executed plans.  The ease of letting go is a necessary counterweight to the burden of our planning.  The gifts in the unknown are always surprising, and whether we understand in the moment or not, exactly what we had planned for.

A Prayer for Boston

Me and my sister, Pam, (left) at a 5K Race in Culver City, CA

When I was 13, I had a big crush on the tall, Latin, gym teacher who lead the track team.  I can see him now in his tight short, shorts, long tan legs, and dark blue windbreaker with a whistle around his neck.  So what was a love sick 13 year old girl to do?  I joined the track team.  Surprisingly, a love affair began.  But it was not with the luscious dream of Mr. Mendez; it was with running.  Something happened when I began to build mileage with the help of Mr. Mendez.  "Push!" he told me during practices.  "You're a long distant runner, Stephanie.  You have what it takes."  That beautiful man planting the seed of what I could achieve changed my life.  I would go on to longer and longer runs, and I eventually ran several marathons and proudly qualified to run the prized Boston Marathon.       

Like running, meditation is a way to slow down our minds and to exist in a space of quiet, but it is not for everyone.  Many friends have told me that sitting still for 20 minutes twice a day does not appeal to them.  Zen Buddhist monk, teacher, author, poet and peace activist Thick Nhat Hanh said, “Smile, breathe and go slowly.”  We can do just that in myriad ways.  For me it happens in the second mile of a run when my heartbeat is in sync with my breathing, and the rhythm of my feet striking the paved streets puts me in union with everything around me.  The chatter in mind quiets, and I breath easily with a smile in my heart.

Thich Nhat Hanh also said, “When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That's the message he is sending.”  In the wake of the tragedy in Boston, it is necessary for us to put our attention on the families who are affected by the tragic acts of two brothers.  Our prayers, love and all the light we can send is the right course of action in this time of suffering.  But perhaps, just perhaps a few of us can find it in our hearts to pray for the two brothers who may not have had the seeds planted to go 26.2 miles and beyond, and whose pain spilled over in a horrifying way.