Spoiled Only Child

Let them drink beer!

Several months ago, Mr. SOC and I were riding in the car, chatting idly. He happened to mention that he had been behind someone at the grocery store who was buying a carton of cigarettes. He was in shock at the price, something like $40. We did the math, and if you smoke a pack a day, that's $120 a month. How awful to have such an expensive addiction, we thought, clucking our tongues and feeling superior. And then I did a few calculations in my head and said, "You know, we spend more than that on beer." [Insert ominous sound here.]

Both of us enjoy drinking two beers every night. One before dinner, a lovely way to officially announce to ourselves that the workday is over and the evening has begun, and one around 9 p.m., to celebrate that the chores are done, the kid is in bed and we can relax. I have long since gotten over worrying that this makes us alcoholics. We both skip the early beer once a week to go to the Y, and if for some reason we are unable to have a beer one evening (very, very rare), we get antsy but don't go into convulsions or anything. If we are alcoholics, our addiction is no more damaging to our lives than an addiction to caffiene or diet soda. But I have worried for years about the money that we spend on beer.

Neither of us likes cheap American beer, so our habit costs us about $150 per month. That is a lot of money. That is money we could be saving for Mia's college education, putting into our retirement fund or using to take all the fabulous vacations we feel we can't afford. So, after our car conversation, I suggested that we do a trial. We go down to one beer a night on weeknights. I did the math, and this would save us about $40 a month. I promised Mr. SOC that if we felt it was ruining our lives, we would give it up. We would just try.

Well, last night the trial period officially ended. I called it off. I don't want to live without my two beers. After months, the craving never lessened. So every night went one of two ways: drink the beer and feel guilty about it, or not drink the beer and pine for it and, often, compensate by eating desserts, drinking tea, etc. (probably canceling out at least half of the money savings). Last night, I finally realized I could get out of this cycle of guilt and craving for $40 a month. It sounded like a pretty good deal to me.

So today I declare that I am giving up guilt over my beer consumption. For years, it has been a niggling thing in the back of my mind, and life is too short to spend flogging yourself about something so insignificant. Yes, there are lots of loftier uses for that $150 a month, but I have to live my life every day, and I want to enjoy it. We both work and are responsible with money. We have no credit card debt, no car payments, no online shopping habits. (Yes, we have a sailboat. Shut up!) We don't have cable. We have the cheapest, crappiest cell phones imaginable, and the paltry few electronic gadgets we own are all hand-me-downs from my gadget-adicted mother. We buy very few new clothes, we scrimp on eating out and, now that we are mostly vegetarian, we eat beans, pasta and eggs rather than steaks. So let us have our beer, dammit! We deserve it.

I can't tell you how good this feels.

Random notes on nothing

I went to my first "dharma talk" at the Buddhist center on Sunday. It was weird. There was chanting and bowing and I'm not sure what to think about it all. But the guy (lama? monk?) said something that stuck. He said there are three stages in the spiritual journey. In the first, you are walking down the street and there is a giant hole. You aren't paying attention, you never see it and you fall in. In the second, you see the hole, but you fall in anyway. And in the third, you learn to walk around the hole. I am firmly, squarely in stage two. I should celebrate this as a victory. Instead, I'm just pissed off that I'm in this damned hole again.

Yesterday, I came up with a plan for tempering my urge to break all my internet rules. Every time I get the urge, I am to take three conscious breaths and then decide whether to follow the urge. It's amazingly effective, when I can actually do it. Have failed to do it many times in the past 24 hours.

I've been sleeping great recently. No meds, no herbs, no nothing. It's wonderful. I know this period will not last forever, but it helps to remember that my body actually is capable of falling asleep naturally. One thing that helps is that every night, I lie down in bed and consciously think about how grateful I am for my soft bed, my warm blankets, my cotton sheets, my quiet, dark room, my safe neighborhood and my relatively stable country. I think about people who lie down every night without these luxuries and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

What do you do when you have friends who make you feel used and dead inside? But then, every time you decide you are finished with them, they offer you something that is just irresistible, and you accept. And then you are indebted to them again. And then the cycle continues. Just accept that you are more business partners exchanging child care and not friends? Or listen to your gut telling you that this isn't a healthy relationship for you?

For the rest of today, I am to be like a piece of dandelion fluff. Just floating along, not invested in anything, going with the flow. What kind of small talk does dandelion fluff make?

P.S. I feel bad for Demi Moore. Life ain't easy, even when you're famous.

 

Finding my way out of wretchedness

This month seems to be moving extremely ... S L O W. Work is slow, and my days seem to stretch out forever. This respite from busy, busy, busy should be a relief. It should be a time to catch up, to revel in taking time to read a novel or meditate, to exercise more, work on project declutter and catch up on all that work stuff that remains perpetually at the bottom of the to do list. And I probably have done most of that stuff (all except catching up on work), but what is most noticeable about this expanse of free time is a feeling of discomfort and fear. I'm afraid that I'm not doing enough, not using my time wisely, not proving myself necessary. The fear makes me unable to start anything. And, as always, my coping mechanism is to avoid it all by sitting immobile in front of the computer and becoming progressively more dead inside.

But the best, the absolute best, feeling is when I start to get that glimmer of hope that this period of paralysis is coming to an end. And today, just now, I got that glimmer. I had a phone conversation with a mentor, and I didn't think it would help, but it was on the calendar and I did it out of obligation. And suddenly I saw the possibilities and the concrete steps I could take to make them happen. They say you need periods of both wretchedness and inspiration. The wretchedness softens you up, makes you compassionate. Well, let's just hope that I've gotten my wretchedness out of the way for a while, because I am more than ready for some inspiration.

Following the letter, but not the spirit, of the law

It turns out there are plenty of ways to waste time on the computer, even within the confines of my rules. I have been (mostly) obeying them, but I still seem to end up in the same cycle every day. I waste the first hour, maybe hour and a half, of my work day screwing around on the computer. Then I end up rushing like a crazy person at the end of the day, literally working until 4 minutes before I am supposed to be at school to pick up Mia. And then I'm thinking, why did I waste that hour this morning???

The urge to avoid starting my work — and all the pressures and questions about the future that come with it — is just so strong. Work feels hard and a little bit scary. So I tell myself I'll just relax for a bit while I drink my coffee, do my daily Facebook and blog check, read a little email. The next thing I know, I'm bleary-eyed and guilty and an hour has passed, and then it's time to take the dog out again and I still haven't started my work. I may only check FB once a day, but I can spend a half hour there, watching people's meaningless videos and clicking their links. The other day, when I had to edit a piece of writing that I've been working on forever, I spent hours reading the archives of my own blog. No rules about that, right?

But all hope is not lost. As Mr. Zen Habits would say, being aware of what I'm doing is the first and most important step to making positive change. And I am fully aware. I'm just going to keep trying, tweaking my rules when necessary, and forgiving myself when I don't measure up to my expectations. I think it might not be possible for me just to jump headlong into work each morning, and I can accept that. But I'd like to work toward using the time I spend procrastinating in more positive ways. Writing, cooking, doing yoga--whatever. That's why I'm here this morning, forcing myself to write this before I dip into Facebook.

Walking through the door, finally

One of my new year's "aspirations" was to find a meditation community. This is actually something that I have known I needed to do for almost a year, and that I really should have done several years ago, as soon as I decided to take up this practice. This is really not a journey that should be undertaken alone. I have also known for many months that there is a Buddhist center in my city that holds a group meditation every Sunday morning. And most Sundays I would think, I should really try that out. But I never did.

I was afraid. I envisioned the Buddhist center as a place frequented mostly by monks in robes with shaved heads. I imagined being one of only a handful of U.S.-born people (even though it was my very white, English-speaking neighbor who told me about the center). I thought I would feel like a deeply out-of-place interloper at someone else's holy ritual. I also balked at the whole Buddhist thing. While I want to meditate, and I agree with every basic tenet of Buddhism, my desire to get involved with an organized religion is minimal. I had every reason (maybe excuse is a better word) for not giving it a try.

But then came the new year, with it's power to make you think you can change your life. And on Sunday morning, I told myself I was going to that center. I was going to give it just one try. The night before, I almost couldn't sleep I was so worried about it. I told myself that if I had too much trouble sleeping, I didn't have to go. But miraculously, I fell asleep. That morning, I made the 10-minute drive and sat in the car outside the non-descript building surrounded by warehouses. I had no idea what was in there, and I was terrified to walk in. ,

I guess we know what this is leading up to: Me walking in and discovering that all my fear was for nothing. The place was incredibly welcoming, and almost everyone there looked just like me. Westerners in jeans, regular people who want to cultivate mindfulness and compassion in their lives. Not only did I meditate for 50 minutes and enjoy it (after months of not being able to force myself to do more than 15 minutes at home), but I was welcomed with open arms by the center's regular members. They made a point of pulling aside the newcomers and giving us an orientation, handing us an information packet, telling us how happy they were that we came — and pointing out that you do not have to be Buddhist to be part of the center. I ran into three people that I knew. And I discovered that the weekly meditation is only a tiny bit of what they offer. They have a Sunday class for children (where they do yoga, read stories and teach about virtues like generosity and compassion). They have lectures and classes and service projects and social events — all offered for free and open to anyone. The center has many of the things I've always wished for as a non-church going person (community, a sense of common purpose, organized service projects, children's programs) with none of the stuff I've always felt is not for me (Christianity, talk about the Bible, undercurrents of social climbing).

For me, the lesson was: Stop letting your fear hold you back. To think that this incredible resource that provides pretty much all of what I need as a seeker of mindfulness has been right under my nose for years, and I was too afraid to walk through the door. Next week, I'm taking Mia with me. And eventually, I might even persuade Mr. SOC to give it a try. I feel a whole new era in my life beginning.

On envy

We've all heard that comparing yourself to others only breeds unhappiness. I was just telling Mia the other day that there are always going to be people who have more than her, but that she should be grateful for all that she does have. I believe that, and lately I've been feeling very content and grateful exactly where I am. And yet, I can't help feeling jealous of my neighbors.

On Wednesday, they are leaving for a six month trip to Europe. He is a university professor on a research sabbatical, and for the spring semester, the university is paying for him, his wife and his two small children to live in Spain, Italy and a bunch of other romantic locations that I would love to visit. I love to travel, but in recent years we have had trouble finding the time and money to even go out of state. I haven't left the United States (except to go to the British Virgin Islands, which doesn't really count) since my trip to France just after graduating college, and Mr. SOC has been abroad exactly once, when he skiied in Switzerland as a child. The list of places I want to go keeps expanding, but my progress in crossing them off has slowed to a crawl.

Just yesterday, I was talking to Mr. SOC about how I want to give Mia a sense of how big and awe-inspiring the world is, a sense of how many possibilities there are for her life. And it occurred to me that one of the best ways to do that would be to take her places. Show her Europe, South America, Canada, Hawaii, California and Montana. Show her this big beautiful world and fill her with the knowledge of how many choices she has. And then I find myself contemplating another budget vacation to the beach this summer while one of her closest friends (the neighbors' daughter) embarks on yet another foreign adventure. You see, at 6, she has already been to Canada, Paris, Australia, Alaska and who knows where else. And now she's about to add six new countries to the list.

I know life is not fair. I know I could have made career choices that would have allowed me to travel more. And I know I am not exactly deprived. In the past year, I have taken work trips to San Diego, Seattle and Nashville. And just over a year and a half ago, I was on a sailboat in the BVI. And there is a possibility that I might get to go to Mexico in the spring. I have nothing to complain about. And I begrudge my neighbors nothing. They are great people, fully deserving of whatever good fortune has come their way in life. And still, I feel a twinge of envy every time I look across the street at their house. Guess I better get used to it, because I've got six months ahead of me.

Wanting it all in 2012

So, this brings us to 2012. And while I kind of hate new year's resolutions, I can't argue with the hope and optimism of believing in fresh starts. The truth is that fresh starts are available to us at any time. But somehow, the new year helps many of us see that truth. It jolts us out of our rut and, with its clean new calendars, makes us believe we can break old habits and be happier and healthier than we were before. Maybe it's just the relief of having Christmas behind us, and at least 11 months before we have to do it all again. But it's something.

So, in that spirit, here are my "aspirations" for 2012. (I call them aspirations because they are things that I hope to devote time to this year, because I think they would make me happier, but they are not things that I'm going to whip myself into doing. I do these things in the spirit of lovingkindness toward myself and others, not in the spirit of thinking that I need to fix some terrible flaw in myself.)

• Find a community of fellow meditators to help strengthen my practice.
• Write more, here or elsewhere.
• Listen to music, and discover new music that I love.
• Clear the clutter from my home. (This is a whole post in itself.)

These are all positive aspirations, things I want to do, rather than things I feel I should do or want to stop doing. But to find time for these things, I think I am going to have to try to kick one bad habit. I need to stop wasting gobs of time on the computer. So, I'm going to lay out a few ground rules about computer use that I hope and pray I will be able to work toward this year.

• Institute a digital sabbath every Sunday. No using the computer except for practical things like looking up a recipe or a phone number. I am allowed to use it for writing at any time, as long as I don't use that as a gateway into checking Facebook and Bloglines. No email except in special cases.
• On other days, check email no more than twice outside of working hours. Preferably once.
• Check blogs only once per day.
• And this is going to be a hard one, check Facebook only once per day.

Those things are going to be really hard for me. But I hope that list of positive things I want to do with that time will make it more doable. It's not a punishment. It's creating a clearing for things that will be more rewarding and fun than the time I now spend checking random websites a dozen times a day.

Lastly, I did the Mondo Beyondo exercise this year, but it didn't really resonate with me. However, it asks you to come up with a sort of theme for your year, which can be described in a word or short phrase. The thing that popped into my head and seemed to stick was "This is my year of choosing love over fear." One of my meditation teachers once told me that there are only two motivators in the universe, love or fear, and every decision is made out of one or the other. When we choose to treat others badly, or work in a job we hate, or not give to charity, we are choosing out of fear. As I think I have documented here, fear is a huge presence in my life. It's with me every day, but I don't want to let it rule me. This year, I'd like to put every decision I make to the test. Am I doing this out of love or fear? I have no idea how this will go, or if I will even remember to do it most of the time, but it's a worthy aspiration.

Those are my hopes for 2012. Is this too much? Maybe. I should probably have only one aspiration, rather than a three-part, bullet-pointed list. But I just can't help wanting it all. And if all that comes out of it is this feeling of hope and optimism, right here right now, then at least that is something.

The lessons of 2011

At the end of each year, we tend to ask ourselves whether it was a good one or a bad one. But every year, every day, every hour is a mix of good and bad. Reducing the year to that kind of black-and-white value judgment has always felt a bit empty to me. I do think it's a worthwhile exercise, though, to think about what each year has taught us. These are a few of the lessons 2011 taught me:

Meditation can cure my insomnia and fundamentally change my perspective. At the beginning of the year, I took an intensive (and expensive) meditation course. It was amazing. I felt a huge shift in the way I processed the world. And, amazingly, for a few months there, I was able to sleep without problems. But I also learned that I cannot keep up my practice alone. After the course ended, I felt that opening I had created begin to close again. And this fall, when my job got really busy, I pretty much quit meditating altogether. I'm still struggling to bring myself back to it. I need a community to continue this journey, and this year I hope to find one.

Doing things I fear won't kill me — and might even be good for me. This year was a challenging year professionally. I am running a small non-profit, with no experience and little training, and I have been so afraid of failure. As part of my job, I have had to do a lot of public speaking, and I often found myself walking around with a knot in my stomach for days before each event where I had to speak. Event organizing also scared the hell out of me. During the year, I hated and resented having to do these things that made me uncomfortable. I railed against the injustice. But you know what? I got through them. In the process, I learned a hell of a lot about running a non-profit and I learned to speak in front of people without having an anxiety attack for three days beforehand. Doing things you fear is the only way to grow. I need to remember that.

I am so lucky and blessed. My meditation practice may be a bit dormant at the moment, but I have felt a shift happening inside me these past few months. Recently, I've opened my eyes to how incredibly fortunate I am. It's so easy to go through life griping and focusing on all the things you don't have. Who hasn't felt sometimes that life is nothing but a relentless slog of work, chores and other obligations? But lately, I've been able to remember that the pile of dishes I'm washing reflects the fact that my family and I have plenty to eat and the good fortune to be able to cook ourselves healthy meals every night of the week. My massive to-do list is a refection of my full life, of the blessings of family, friends and work. I think of people living in refugee camps, or trying to keep their children healthy in third-world countries that lack clean water, or trying to stay warm as they lie down to sleep in a park, and I think, Really? I'm bitching because I have to run to the grocery store for the third time this week?

Giving is a powerful and freeing act. I believe that clinging to things — money, possessions, even people — is the root of suffering. Only when we learn that we can live without any of it, and that hoarding it will not bring us security, are we free. I also believe that reaching out to others with love and compassion is the path to happiness. But believing those things and living by them are entirely different matters. At the end of the year, I tried the challenge of giving something away every day for a month. I cooked meals for friends, sent kind letters, gave away things with value and gave lots of donations to charity. I tried really hard to give gifts outside the immediate circle of my family and close friends. (The spirit of the challenge is that you give indiscriminately, surprise strangers with bouquets of flowers, that kind of thing.) I lost momentum as the holidays arrived, because it takes time and creativity to find a way to give something unexpected every day. But I learned that it feels great to put aside fear and selfishness and just give--whether it's a kind word that makes you feel vulnerable, a bit of your time or $100 that you think you can't live without.

I can love a dog. When we got a puppy last February, I was a little concerned that the part of my heart that's supposed to love pets was a cold, shriveled raisin. I used to have two cats, and in the last couple years of their lives, I lost all interest and affection for them. I can't explain it, but I was really just waiting for them to die. But I have always said a dog would be my second kid. The dog and I have had our ups and downs, and it is definitely not the same as having another child. But I do love this funny little dog.

I'm sure there were hundreds more lessons, but I'll stop there. This post is so far from perfection, but I need to accept that if I keep waiting for the time and talents to write the perfect words, I'll never write anything. So, here's to imperfection.

Starting out right

Happy new year! One of my aspirations for 2012 is to write more often. So here I am. I am trying to start this year by putting a few words on the page, even though I am--right this minute--out of time. This week between Christmas and New Years, I had imagined as a long stretch of free time. Time to meditate, reflect and prepare for a fresh start in 2012. But as usual, those stretches of uninterrupted time have been elusive. Somehow, cooking, cleaning, hanging out with the family, walking the dog, and all the other regular stuff of life filled up my days.

The lesson, of course, is that if I wait until I have time, I will never, ever do anything. So, I promise to show up more this year, even when I don't have time. I promise to think about my priorities, and figure out where I am wasting the precious moments I could be using to write and meditate. (Internet surfing, I'm looking at you.) For now, I'm going to go watch a movie with the husband. But I'll be back soon to tell you more about my high hopes for 2012. And everything else too.

This is my come-to-Jesus moment

This is it. This is the week that I change my ways. I have been making myself miserable with my brand of extreme procrastination for way, way too long. On Wednesday, I had one of those days. I just couldn't move. I sat bleary eyed in front of the computer all day, doing absolutely nothing. A couple times I forced myself to get up and take the dog for a walk, anything to get me away from the computer and the leaden, miserable feeling that it gives me. Then I'd come back and end up right back on it, wretched and dead inside again.

But for the first time in my life, I see what this is. It's not an unchangeable character flaw. It's just a coping strategy — it's my way of running away from fear. I have a fear of failure that surrounds my work, and I am afraid that if I try, my worst fears will be confirmed: I will try my best and still fail. The organization I'm running won't be a success, or my career won't be a success, or other people will think I'm incompetent, or I will realize that I'm on the completely wrong path and be back at square one again. My strategy for dealing with that fear is to not try. I let myself sink into absolute paralysis. This procrastination method has become an addiction, just like alcohol or drugs. It's an escape from my problems that causes more problems.

I think seeing it for what it is is the first step to kicking this addiction. The second step is learning to be with the fear, rather than running from it. When I feel that nervous rumble in my belly, that tightness in my chest that often comes when I think about starting work, I'm going to breathe in that feeling. I'm going to allow it to be there, but try not to get caught up in all the stories and scenarios that go with it. Just feel the fear, and then get started anyway. When I feel my urge to run (otherwise known as the urge to check Bloglines or Facebook or Twitter) I'm going to breathe that in too. Feel the urge, allow it, but don't act on it. As my new hero Pema Chodron would say, I'm going to stay, I'm going to hold my seat, and see the fear for what it is, a passing memory, a phantom made of nothing but air and thoughts and clenched muscles.

I know there will be days when I fail in this. But I'm starting to see how I'm creating my own suffering by constantly running away. And if there is a way to never feel again the way I did on Wednesday, I want to give it my best try.