Reflection and Projection

I have always failed miserably at celebrating the New Year’s holiday in a proper fashion. Last night was no exception; I climbed into bed at 10:30pm mountain standard time, read for a short while  and was asleep before 11:30. I justified the early to bed New Year’s eve by telling myself the ball had already dropped in Times Square – the climax of the Dick Clark New Year’s special – and that I had watched fireworks fill the sky over Sydney’s famed opera house on CNN.com hours before. What more was there to wait up for?

So here it is, 2009. I have no New Year’s resolutions to pursue, no remains from a party to clean, and no hangover to nurse. I got up this morning and tended to the pets then finished washing the stack of dishes I had given up on last night. One might say the year slipped by me unnoticed. I disagree. I am a firm believer that the human mind can settle into the past or future and miss the moment of life one is living all too easily. Therefore,  364 days out of the year I strive to be present focused; to live mindfully in the moment. Yesterday, I took a break from the present and took stock of the past and looked toward the future and today I feel a bit more reset on my path through life.

While I may not have stayed up to watch the clock pass from the last minute of 2008 to the first minute of 2009, I did commemorate the passing of time in my own way.  I took some time on Dec. 31, 2008 to reflect on the ending year – the challenges, the suprises, the happy moments – and of course, I dabbled in some day dreaming of hopes and expectations for 2009. I decided 2008 had been a calmer year than its recent predecessors- less life changes, more answers to the question marks even a solid plan in life leaves in its wake. Sadly there seemed to be fewer adventures this year than last, as money and time were tighter than usual. And yet in their place was a clearer picture of stability and serenity and more adventures in the not so distant future. I made my annual list of personal criticisms and goals for self-change. On that great scale of immaterial have and have nots, I weighed in heavily on the haves.  I marked the landmark events that I have to anticipate in 2009 in red pen on the calendar. And of course, I anxiously await the unknowns of what 2009 will hold and how it will shape my ever-changing plans in life.

For me, the New Year’s holiday is a time to examine the past and revisit goals for the future. I look at myself as a token piece on a board game. I examine the path I’m on and know this a chance to exchange the cards in my hand, to review my strategy, to pick up my piece and move to a different path if I choose. And then I acknowledge the luck of the draw and the chances that come with rolling the dice.

 

A measure of nerves and nails

About a month ago I broke a nail for the first time in years. And I’ll have you know that when that bit of nail ripped off it exposed a very sensitive patch of skin just beneath my fingertip and I suddenly understood why breaking a nail is such a big deal. After I finished nursing my finger, I stared at my hands and realized the nine remaining nails were quite long and inexplicably smooth. It didn’t seem quite right, so I gave my hands a second scan and sure enough, white tips extended over the rounded skin capping my fingers. I stared for a while longer pondering how this had come to be and further lamenting my broken nail because if not for it, I would having started digging through my archaic selection of nail polish for the perfect color with which to celebrate. Now I would have to wait at least a week and hope I didn’t break another nail.

This morning I gave my fingernails a quick trim and filed down some rough edges. I’m thinking I might go with a shimmering torquise but also like the idea of keeping it plain and versitle with a warm brown that will also hide the dirt that keeps getting caught under my nails. I’m still a bit clumsy if my nails get too long; opening a can of soda can be tricky, as can typing. How do secretaries with half-inch nails do it? That remains as mysterious to me as women who can walk in silettoes for hours and get up and put on another pair the next day. For my own sake, I stick to flip-flops and try to keep my nails trimmed even with the tips of my fingers; but the nail upkeep is all so new. Taking the time to trim and file still feels like a strange weekly addition to my hygiene routine but  I just don’t have the nerves to bite them anymore.

After over a decade of nail biting and futile attempts break the habit, it simply disappeared without any thought or effort. So what changed?  Most notably changes in where I live and what I do, which have slowed down daily life to a pace of living I find more comfortable.

This morning after my nails were trimmed, I went out front to water my flower bed and struggling tomato, pepper, and squash plants. When finished, I watched three humming birds chase each other around the feeder and through the tree. I was so close to them that I could see the multiple shades of green on their heads, the 3 cm wide fuchsia band on the male’s throat, even their feet. I didn’t know humming birds had feet. On the other side of the yard, I watched as my golden retriever toss himself from left to right, belly-up with a stick in his mouth getting in a good back scratch in the sun. “This is my life,” I thought, and felt a smile spread across my face.  Back inside, I sat with my coffee and a magazine and let my mind wander over tentative plans to run the river and go for a bike ride today. Plenty of time and little pressure to do both.  Being able to take time to have fun and not feel like I should be doing something else – that has helped my nails grow.

I also like to think that I’m doing a better job of managing the stress that is still around, mostly by practicing mindfulness but also acceptance and an assortment of strategies that I often suggest my clients try but have only recently tried myself.  Every day I working on taking deep breathes, acknowledging and accepting that I can only do one thing at a time, not thinking too far beyond the present, looking for the little things that calm me, letting go of what I can’t control, and most importantly finding quiet moments to sit and be still.

Thus I’ve reach the real point of this ramble – my nails are one measure of many that show that I have started to shed stress and anxiety that I have carried with me for many years. And that I have done so and noticed it through the simple things that so often get forgotten in the rush of daily life.

 

Zen and the Art of Vegetable Chopping

“You spend a lot of time chopping vegetables every day,” my brother-in-law observed during a recent visit to our house. I agreed. Upon further reflection, I decided that I spend a large amount of time peeling and then chopping vegetables, since fresh garlic and onion go into just about everything I make and both require a lengthy peeling process. My brother-in-law went on to make the very useful suggestion that I set aside a block of time at the start of the week and do all of the vegetable chopping for the week. The suggestion certainly makes sense and would save me time but something inside me was against it from the start.

My immediate write-off was that I like vegetables cut in different ways for different meals. Onions for example seem better when diced in some dishes and better as halved-rings in others. Bell peppers are another case in point – I prefer them in long slices for stir-fry but find that diced is best for burritos. And I could go on. It is for this reason – combined with my preference for a very precise way of dicing garlic – that my husband is scared to chop vegetables for our meals. And I don’t blame him. I’m picky. Thus the task falls on me. But to call it a tasks makes it sound tedious and unappealing which couldn’t be further from the truth. And while my meticulous, picky nature played a role in vetoing a day of weekly chopping, the real reason that I did not want to schedule all of my chopping on one day was rooted in what I get back from my chopping episodes.

For me, chopping vegetables is kind of like fly fishing. Just like following the rod’s rhythm from 10 to 2 as you cast a fly line, I find myself following the knife across the cutting board and my mind settling into a repetitive task in which I lose myself. It is a time when I am undisturbed and can processes thoughts weighing on my mind that I have pushed aside in the day’s rush. Once my thoughts quiet, it is a wonderful exercise in mindfulness. I simply enjoy the smell of freshly chopped basil, or I notice that I am being more brutal in my attack on a carrot after a frustrating day. Time may pass slowly or quickly and becomes arbitrary; dinner will be ready when it is done.  We all have our vices, our “pick-me-ups”; I guess chopping vegetables is one of mine.