Action Monday #2 - Commitment to Greening

Practice, or intention, seems so much to be about making a choice. Committing to a particular course of action and then mindfully carrying out whatever it is you've decided to make the object of your focus.

I suck a little bit at commitment. Not in the traditional sense. I am faithful to my husband; we've been married nearly 8 years. We've owned two homes and poured sweat equity into each space. I pay my taxes. I clean my house every week. I am a dedicated mommy. I finished a graduate degree. We have a happy and healthy family dog.

But in each of those examples (and many others not listed), there is a gap between the full scope of my intention and the reality of my actions. I fail. I falter. I don't live up to my expectations, and I don't always give every force of my effort in every moment.

Maybe that's normal. I don't know. But for me, it provides the foundation for always wanting to do better. For feeling like there is something lacking in my commitment because there is inevitably some way in which I hold myself back from full participation in the world.

In a very mundane way, this can be applied to my inability to fulfill my intention to live greener. To be fair to our current efforts: we compost, we recycle, we reuse and pass things on. But it's yet another area wherein my actions fall short of my goals. I could be doing so much more.

I've been talking about green cleaning for years now—keep saying I'm going to do it. Research, and read up, and make plans... but I've yet to actually commit to making my own cleaning products or reducing our use of paper goods (napkins, paper towels, tissues, etc.).

So! Two action items I will commit to this week: 1) buy cloth napkins; 2) make an all-purpose cleaner for the kitchen and bathrooms and try out the baking soda method on the tub.

The inspiration and little push I needed came in the form of a post by a friend, Rachael Nevins @ The Variegated Life, and a link from her site that said "I'm Taking Baby Steps."

I am committing to putting these actions into being no later than Sunday, June 17. As of next week, I'll not only be doing yoga 3-5 times per week and blogging at least twice per week, I'll also be cleaning my house with vinegar, water, and baking soda.

To action!!

May you relish your commitments to positive elements of your life. May you commit to actions that inspire you and fill you with happiness.

Stuckness

I have sat and stared at the screen for approximately one hour determining what, if anything, to write today. Oh. Funny how long it sometimes takes me to wake up to the present moment.

My persistent cycle of stuckness has been lengthy and sometimes painful. Getting less painful lately, as I shift my perception and change my knowing of self, mind, emotion, peace, etc. - but the tendency to get frozen within a cage of indecisive hesitation has become a pattern worth investigating.

It has become particularly relevant lately because I have more time and freedom available to me than ever before in my life. Theoretically, the open-ended and unfettered potential of now might lead to amazing creative expressions, the fulfillment of long-held dreams, and a joyous exuberance borne of limitless capacity and unchained time.

Quite the opposite. I have noticed I am more apt to be idle and lost, less focused, less ambitious, and more susceptible to emotional downward spirals when my datebook is unblemished and my dance card empty.

At first I was frustrated by my inaction, then ashamed, then angry, then depressed, then quietly submissive... and finally, after a stretch of concerted mindfulness and an attempt to strip away any ego-based illusions or smoke screens, I again sit down to stare into the abyss of stubborn inaction to see what realizations may come.

1. I stop myself. I like to blame others for my stuckness, but the tendency to look outward for rationalization is unfair and a bit cowardly.
2. I am afraid to fail. For a very long time, I pushed this truth away because it seemed so predictably banal and textbook psych-y, but I hate to err because I still hold attachments to right and wrong. I tend toward perfectionism (an impossible paradox) and fear looking foolish - all of which leads to a personality trait loathe to take risks. I am so worried about missteps, I never start walking. This, of course, is both foolish and counterproductive.
3. Even though I believe in change, the inevitability of life's natural impossibility toward immobility, and the power of anyone to choose anew in any given moment... I hold onto a belief that saying yes to something means I have said no to something else - and then there is no going back. I fear limiting my options... so much so I often choose nothing in an effort to thwart the anticipated loss of a future "what if." Bottom line: I must not actually believe change is always possible, because I don't yet live it.

In my procrastinated surfing prior to writing this post, I stumbled on a quote that addresses all three of the above understandings with disarming simplicity; I like this translation best:

"Traveler, there is no path, the path is made by walking." ~ Antonio Machado

Again I am reminded the choice to take action is more important than the anticipated outcome. Action is now; worrying about the future is not now. Action is here; worrying about how it will be received, how it will make others feel, or how others see me in light of my action is not here. Failure is a construct; stuck is a construct. There is no failure if I always choose to learn and accept what is. There is no stuck when I remember life is never static.

May you feel energized toward action in your living. May you never hold yourself back needlessly.

Hope

Today I am thinking about hope. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because it's been a difficult week. Maybe because I am starting to look for work and feeling a bit bewildered due to all the variables we must consider with regard to our daughter, our residence, our income, our tax bracket, etc.

It could also be due to the several stories I heard this morning on NPR that make my concerns look tiny and more-than-manageable in comparison with the difficulties faced by so many others throughout the world.

The older I have gotten, the more I've come to understand the importance and impact of hope. It's the thing that keeps us feeling connected, the thing that keeps us from going under or spiraling downward beyond articulating, past reaching out... locked in paralyzed hiding.

Hope reminds us we are beautiful - in a divine and valuable way. It tells us we are strong. It whispers possible connections between ourselves and everyone around us... weaving safety nets along our support systems so that even the slightest waver catches someone's attention - and they answer our call before we even knew we needed assistance.

Hope is tied to compassion. Our capacity to be compassionate with ourselves and to be open to the imperfections and potential challenges contained in others. Hope allows failure. Hope allows forgiveness. Because it sees neither as a finite answer and believes new questions can always be asked.

One of my assignments this week was to meditate for 5 minutes each day. Such a seemingly small thing, and yet - as our teacher knew it would - it can pose a challenge for those of us unused to making time for such things.

A remarkable aspect of these daily sittings has been the discovery of a deep-seated and very powerful force of hope within. I am still in the process of fully uncovering it... like a deep-sea diver carefully removing wreckage around a sunken treasure. I catch it gleaming... get a sharp sense of how valuable this finding will be... and then my awareness shifts to the hulking metal, the rusty, barnacled shell of some long-forgotten mishap.

It's hard work, clearing away our internal rubble. Painful and murky... with long spans of being left alone in the dark to wonder if the debris we've stirred up will clear enough to see again.

Hope is that shiny little sparkle you catch out of the corner of your eye. The one that makes your heart quicken and your mouth open just slightly so that the corners begin to inch toward smiling.

It's worth it. For those of you reading this and questioning whether to keep going, whether to allow hope a larger space in your heart, whether to continue digging through the remains so you may finally let go... the answer is yes.

May you allow hope to reside within you. May it spur you on to greater action.