#ReactivePositivity While Blasted By A Snow-Cutting Machine!

 I've learned in life to be careful what you wish for. My 2022 aspiration is ~ #ReactivePositivity in the face of...(I'm whispering) anything. Knowing the chances to practice would arise, because, well, that's what life provides at every turn, I took a few breaths, and hunkered down....

Two nights ago, I had just fallen into slumber on the couch before bed and in my mind's ear (is this a dimension of reality?) I hear our county's snow-cutting machine chugging down the road at turtle speed, devouring the 12 foot high snow banks to widen our barely one-lane neighborhood road. I live in Tahoe, so massive storms. The house erupts in glee, Bene the cat runs to the kitchen window to look out, husband lays over the back of the sectional couch, peering out the living room window, and I get up and move toward the hallway to go to bed, when suddenly...

What sounds like boulders start smashing into the wall of windows in our living room. Turning to look, its awash in a steady chute of compressed, concrete snow chunks. I scream over the noise, "Maybe he's had a heart attack! We need to do something!!!" It was the only exclamation my sleepy mind could deduce. Boy Scout husband runs over to the outside light switch and throws an SOS signal as the Snow Cutter slowly creeps by. 

I grab my coat from the hallway closet, slam on the snow boots and head out the door while husband calmly warns, "Nothing can be done." I feel on fire, literally, from head to toes. "It's dangerous!" I yell, as in my mind's eye I envision the driver inebriated (sorry, it's the addiction provider in me) or something worse. 

It didn't take long to catch up and giving the machine wide girth, I approach the side window and pantomime in my best ASL-ism ;) HOUSE, CHUTE, SNOW-CRUSH!. Machine stops, driver opens his window, I see he's alert and wide-eyed looking at me. I yell over the noise--"Are you OK? Are you tired? Do you need help?" He shakes his head, no.

"Be careful!?!" I scream, seeing his snow chute is lower than my neighbors house, he shuts his window and chugs along. 

Walking back to my house, I feel my relief turn 180 degrees--to anger. As I walk up the deck steps my anger mounts: solid snow concrete is waist high, window screen ripped, patio bistro table and chairs buried. Hitting the deck-long mound with a shovel, it seems unmovable. A call is made to the county and I pray no one gets hurt tonight as I try to go to sleep. But...as I unwind my body in bed, it is racked with pain, quite literally up and down my spine, legs, arms, neck, head. I realize that in the ten minutes or so of holding all my anger, I am truly afflicted! For the first time in over an hour, I remember my  dear, precious breath, my anchor in the storm. I come back to my anger-scorched body, breathe deep nourishing breaths and concentrate on gratitude: driver was not injured, we were not injured, house is intact...sleep finally came. 

When I shared with a dear friend and mentor the following morning my wish to have responded differently, he gently said, "May I suggest you responded exactly as you needed to protect you, your house and your family." He mentioned the possibility that anger and every emotion serves a purpose. The mindful moment of realizing when I got caught and consumed, is the practice, it is the path to buddhahood. Whoa, mind blowing---and...#ReactivePositivity in action. 

That afternoon, a county supervisor came out to access damage and confirmed my friend's wisdom.  The man said he had just come from 3 cabins, recently renovated who, like us, were hit with a chute of concrete-snow only the load blew the front doors off the hinges and shattered all the windows on the front of their dwellings. Luckily, no one was inside and now one was hurt. "Consider yourself very lucky," he said. 

OK, it's quite alright to respond with anger and strong emotions! I might even say, sometimes the body knows things in ways our sense organs do not. The key for me, that unlocks the beautiful door of #ReactivePositivity is the personal question--am I swept away? Am I completely and totally consumed? Because, even if I am positively swept away and consumed, I may miss something. Positivity might  not actually be the most skillful response. Dang, that's deep. 

Umm, so much good and juicy life to process and ponder. I am so grateful that sweet Bene cat, my dear husband, peering out in joy, were not injured, that all are safe and home just scuffed a bit. The amazing supervisor buddha then called in a crew to come get that concrete off the deck, then, he assessed the minimal damages and went on his way, fully knowing how lucky we are to be breathing, loving, living in the snowglobe of Winter 2022. Stay safe out there everyone, love one another and be #ReactivelyPositive, solid, stable and not swept away.... 

      

Hanging with Eeyore or Desmond Tutu?

I'm feeling brave today, to address a way of being -- Reactive Positivity. The desire for this way of being came out of deep reflection on the Tedx Talk I gave in May 2021. I watched post-production following the event and was disappointed. The hope I thought I had conveyed was a smidge, barely scratching the surface.

The talk birthed a North Star within me ~ I wish, above all to be a positive and uplifting force in the face of the opioid crisis, a pandemic, stubbing my toe, whatever it may be ~ I want to react with positivity. Not fake-o, Polly-Anna stuff, but the tapped-in substance of a greater source. 

Part of my clarity came with Desmond Tutu's passing yesterday. I have always been inspired and touched by his joyful personality in the face of tremendous hardship, apartheid--it doesn't get much worse than that. The Dalai Lama, a very dear friend to Tutu, also falls into the joyful category. Even though the Dalai Lama has faced the tremendous pain of exile and the destruction of his people, he continues to exude peace, hope and love. The Dalai Lama and Tutu's capacities for positivity are strong and massive, unable to be contained, and the people feel it. Watch this video of Dalai Lama and Tutu and try not to smile--impossible!

How do we grow the capacity for unwavering, reactive positivity? Training the heart and mind seem key. We're talking-- reactive--so, rather than fear, or the past, or our habitual habits and traumas taking over--positivity takes over. That sounds subconscious to me, it sounds the stuff of consumption--what music am I listening to? What am I reading? What am I viewing? What am I speaking? Who is my company? Am I hanging out with Eeyore or Desmond Tutu? 

And...if I am with Eeyore, hello, dear Eeyore! In my practice of mindfulness, I will not turn away the donkey at my door...or get sucked in but rather, practice being a force of reactive positivity, uplifting and free. 

Like any good gardener, if I want positivity to grow, I must water and feed positivity. With water and food comes a growth in capacity and true healing. Reactive positivity is my 2022 New Year's Resolution! Who's on board with me? I want to grow lotuses in all the mud, ya'all! The giant, mammoth kind that grow 60 inches tall, pushing through all the muck. Dear Lotuses, drop me a line on Facebook or use #reactivepositivity for insights, thoughts and ideas to grow Reactive Positivity 2022! 

Hallelujah Moment!

 

As we enter the month of December a memory comes to mind that I can't shake. I was asked the question ~ tell me about a tradition that formed who you are today. In a flash my mind's eye saw--little me holding one of those skinny lit candles with the cardboard drip guard, belting out Hallelujah with a congregation thousands strong. 

I was born and raised Reformed Mennonite (yes, I had electricity, no I did not drive a horse and buggy). Reformed Mennonite folks are in general humble and pious people who never sing at the top of their lungs--except on Christmas Eve! On that one night a year heaven came down to earth, truly! Celebrating like that until I was well into my teens, was the truest expression of love, peace and goodwill to all that I was yet to know. On the altar was a lighted candle and from it, a flame was passed, one by one to our neighbor, perhaps a loved one or a total stranger. In a matter of minutes, lights multiplied and a community was born. Light of goodness within each person was acknowledged--no exception, no one left out or disparaged. We shone so bright, so beautifully. A Hallelujah moment was born! 

Now, bringing this Hallelujah moment down into the concrete...watching the news of late, I see division, looting, fear and violence. Inside I ask myself the question--where are the Hallelujah moments--moments of rejoicing in the love, peace and goodwill expressed in us? How are we acknowledging? Stoking? Lighting these flames? I don't recognize the streets of our cities. I've never seen such levels of violence, greed and despair. Our spiritual dimension seems void and lacking. 

I am committed in the month of December to pass the lighted candle, sing and rejoice in what is good and beautiful. If you are in need of a Hallelujah moment, please come visit with me. Shine the light of compassionate awareness on any situation that weighs upon your beautiful spirit. I am at The Studio Tuesdays and Thursdays and would enjoy a chance to pass flames, to shine and rejuvenate, to bring Tahoe heaven down to earth. Zoom is also an option if it suits you best. Please contact me for an appointment to care for your spirit or as a gift to a loved one. May your light shine bright this holiday season and may you pass that light to all you meet.

Related Blog Articles: Double Belonging 

Search for Wise Compassion

 

When dealing with supporting loved ones in recovery, wise compassion vs idiot compassion seems a constant contemplation. The above quote guides our practice. How do we know our actions toward our addicted loved one, or anyone for that matter, are ultimately helpful? Two North Stars seem key:  

1)  True compassion knows ~ it's not just about the addict - the fallout from addiction is massive. True compassion supports not only the addict but those impacted by the addiction ~ especially vulnerable populations such as elders and children. Can we see with a broad, compassionate gaze that provides equal care to all those on the journey, including ourselves? 

2) True compassionate action addresses roots - every action should seek to help identify and heal the roots of addiction, not cover up, put our heads in the sand or become a co-conspirator. The roots may even have to do with us. Getting more and more real with ourselves, takes honesty and courage. 

For wise compassion to arise, seeing our loved ones, our precious, "flowers," in recovery as not separate seems foremost:

The flower is made of non-flower elements. There is nothing that is not present in the flower. We see sunshine, rain, clouds, the earth, we also see time and space in the flower. A flower, like everything, is made entirely of non-flower elements. The whole cosmos has come together in order to help the flower manifest herself. The flower is full of everything except one thing: a separate self, a separate identity. The flower cannot be by herself alone. The flower has to inter-be with the sunshine, the cloud and everything in the cosmos. If we understand being in terms of inter-being, then we are much closer to the truth.

"No Death, No Fear" by Thich Nhat Hanh

We are non-flower elements--may we be wise, compassionate gardeners, practicing tending our loved ones and family members skillfully: extracting weeds, being sunshine, rain, clouds on this recovery journey. 

                                              Image: Life Finds a Way: 25 Plants That Won't Give Up!
 

 

Kindness In The Small

The other night working a packed mental health wing, I got to pondering....

Kindness In The Small

©2021 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Have you ever noticed, when walking down the road without sidewalks,

that cars naturally give space to avoid running over you?

When plate or cup is scalding hot, 

the waitress warns everyone.

If arms are carrying a full load, 

people step-in to open doors.

Something is dropped,

and everyone in vicinity bends to pick it up.

A person unburdens great heartache

and surrounding eyes go moist.

Someone smiles and suddenly 

the corners of our own mouths upturn.

Countless times a day

in countless ways,

“Please, you first... 

May I help you?

I feel your pain...I see your joy.” 

I can’t help but wonder

in this time of social distancing 

If we aren’t masking our beautiful, 

innate tendencies

to reach out.

Perhaps, it is the small,

seemingly insignificant, quiet kindness

that gives meaning to our lives.

Catching the Nature of Water

For those of us supporting loved ones in the cycle of addiction and recovery, there are often pain-staking moments. I'm in one of them right now, as I await confirmation that my loved one is safely in custody. I decided to do walking meditation during these tense moments, as my mind kept returning to the what-ifs and that thinking was not in any way helpful to myself, my family or my loved one.

While walking in the autumn garden, I was kept good company by streams of water trickling off the roof of my house after our first snowfall yesterday. The sun happily melted the snow into pure sparkling water ~ very precious in this time of drought. I was transported back in time to the day that I learned the depths of my loved ones addiction. I was sitting in my living room with bright sun and blue skies. It was springtime and snowmelt poured, actually gushed, from my rafters. I was on the phone, listening to my loved one and my breath was completely inaccessible. My sliding glass door was open and I could hear the melting snow, gurgling and splattering. So, every time my mind descended into panic, I returned to the sound of running water, sun and blue sky. Given my training and background, I know this comes very close to "disassociation." I call it saving my sanity--on that day, water, sun and sky became my breath, my anchors. Clear water, warm sunshine, and spacious sky, held me and my loved one in a fuller picture of reality. 

So today, during walking meditation, I notice a similar melt but it is a mere trickle. Yet, water seems to sing, "catch my precious, precious lifeforce." I slowly walk into the house and gather containers. I prop them carefully so as to catch the clear running streams. As I do, I pray for my family, all families and the amazing people who are by our loved ones sides: encouraging, feeding, sheltering, loving ~ gathering the seemingly impenetrable melt, the trickle of life that we have to work with.

Often in the cycles of use and recovery, we convince ourselves there is nothing left. I am here to say ~ life is always there. We, as compassionate care-takers must tend, gather, use and grow the precious drops. 

As I finish walking meditation and gathering the containers, I water my happy indoor plants. I sit down to write and move this energy. A message comes through. My loved one is safe, secure, protected. 

Breathing in, I offer immense gratitude;
Breathing out, may all remember their water nature,
the thaw that always comes in the light
of gentle and compassionate awareness.    

When Breath Triggers

 

Hello, Resilient Ones, who have survived pandemic, smoke-filled skies and evacuations! The impact of fire season goes beyond...so beyond the boundaries of the western states.

Fires near my local Lake Tahoe home town have been burning since June, with the latest and closest being the Caldor Fire, over 70% contained, yet still smoldering and affecting air quality ~ that’s over 4 months of smoke and altered light. Gratefully, homes were not lost in my community but the forests literally out our back doors have been greatly impacted.

For those in fire zones across the US—breath—the primary anchor when practicing mindfulness is often triggering. I speak from personal experience and listening to people again and again ask, “How can I focus on my breathing when it’s compromised?” 

Masks restricted our oxygen intake, now smoke—what can we do when breath becomes triggering? Here’s the good news, there are many anchors beside breath to help bring our mind back to our bodies, and they are only limited by imagination:

* Sounds - bird song, the sound of the bell, the fan in the air purifier (!), music

* Sights - petals of a flower, the face of a beloved one, moonlight, patterns of tree bark 

* Taste - sipping tea, chewing gum, a favorite meal, freshly tooth-brushed mouth 

* Smell - essential oils, a pot of soup, fresh squeezed lemon, wet earth

* Touch - soft fur of an animal companion, body-heat, souls of feet on the stable floor

Personally, my favorite go-to during the months of fire has been touch as a practice anchor, because it’s the only sense not overly impacted by fire conditions. Ears are assaulted by helicopters overhead dropping water and retardant and the eerie absence of forest creature sounds, smoke-haze fills sight, taste, smell, but smoke does not impact touch, so it seems an important key anchor when we are living mindfully in fire zones.

A friend recently shared in community that one day, when air quality was well over 1,000, her mind “just kind of snapped.” She gathered her dog, got in the car and started driving west on the highway. After an hour and a half, she realized she had not grabbed a single thing, no clothes, food, she had only taken her wallet and dog. “I felt like a wild animal, I just had to get away.” All of us listening understood. Our body wisdom knows—when breath is compromised it is not safe, we should leave, take flight and find clearer air to breathe. 

Fortunately, our blue sky moments this week were more than half the days as fires calm and cool with the start of Autumn. Breathing clean air is a true source of joy. Through applied practice of mindfulness during major fire, I’ve come to understand very deeply ~ clean air is an irreplaceable resource, deeply appreciated and respected as triggering when it is not plentiful. Working with other anchors besides breath expands sense perceptions and grows gratitude. Clean and unobstructed air is everything.