contentment


snow-globeFor many reasons, I had been churning inside all summer. So, in an effort to invoke change and progress, I began shaking up my personal world like a snow globe in ways both large and small. Finally, this Fall, some positive changes happened in my life which I believe will put me on the path I have longed for.

Even though I am welcoming these changes, I have suddenly had to make adjustments and choices that caused me great stress. It was not long before my body reacted to this in negative ways. What puzzles me the most is that I am happy that these things are changing, so what is the deal? What is the verdict on change: good or evil?

Changing things in our lives is often necessary, and one can find a plethora of inspiring quotes about how great change is. There is that book about moving the cheese and all that good propaganda telling us that change is good. I used to teach all that stuff in workshops on how to be a “change agent.”

The truth is that most people are no “007 – Agent of Change.” Most of us hate it and are made unhealthy from the stress endured as a result. Yet, we seek it out. Like when we pick up the snow globe, we can hardly resist shaking up our little world. I have often made changes that I probably could have skipped, just because I was feeling restless, frustrated or discouraged. For a while, I consciously resisted change, thinking that I might be just the tiniest bit addicted to it.

I also know that change, when truly needed, can bring us closer to our life’s true path, and that once the storm subsides, the body and stress levels can once again calm down and settle into a more calming routine.

If you find yourself in the middle of the snow storm in your little globe, remember that it will all calm down soon. Remember to breathe, as always. And remember that you do not have to shake it, just in case you forgot that you have a choice.

My family has a daily practice when we sit down for dinner together at night (which is not every night, but most, I am proud to say!) We ask each other to share our “ups” and “downs” for the day. Hearing about the small moments, I see a realistic collage of our lives take shape. We find out who has hurt us, what little encounter or moment brought us joy or pride, and most often, we are reminded of the incredible value of coming home after a long day in the world to each other to sit around the table and share a meal.

I value this simple ritual more than I readily admit to myself. I need this conversation with my family to keep me grounded. Without this, it becomes too easy for me to slip into an unbalanced view of my own problems. I have been struggling against myself lately and wrestling with the ego. I have found it hard to practice contentment (santosha) or brahmacharya (moderation.) It was a particularly hard week. I cried over disappointments. I felt frustrated with important relationships. I felt sorry for myself. I was not really into remembering how lucky I am.

Hearing the ups and downs of others helped me regain my perspective. I spent time this week reflecting on the heartbreaks of my friends. With one, I discussed the endless challenges of marriage. I have another set of friends who had a fire in their home. They were lucky not to be home so the kids and pets were OK. They also were incredibly lucky not to lose the entire house, though most of their belongings will not be salvaged. While I am sure everyone has been telling them how “lucky” they are, I wonder if they are fully able to feel lucky? I have to be honest and say that I might not. If I were in their shoes, I might just feel like I had a really lousy break.

This is where the practice of listening to others troubles and triumphs holds great power. At my church we share joys and concerns, and because we say all those things out loud, it becomes the glue that binds our little community. My family’s Ups and Downs time works to that same end and cements our family ties. We gain balance and perspective from each other. We simply state what is going on for us, without having a two-way conversation about it; just listening without advice, judgment or comment.

In the midst of our personal pain and conflicts, we can’t always see how lucky we are. If we share that honestly with those who care, it becomes a burden that can be carried on others’ backs. We need not walk alone. And we don’t need to always remind ourselves of how “lucky” we are. Sometimes we can revel in our own downs, but once we listen to others we realize that their situation might truly be worse, and we know that we can lay our burden down and pick theirs up to carry them for a little while.

Santosha (contentment) has challenged me to a duel this week as the first stirrings of spring have come to New England. Buds of perennials are coming up through half-frozen mulch in the beds. Perky crocus flowers open extravagantly at the warmest part of the day and then furtively huddle back into themselves when the cold returns. College students taunt the gods by wearing shorts despite the patches of snow stubbornly remaining on the ground. The gym is suddenly filled with people realizing that bikini season is looming. The neighbors are out raking and sweeping the driveways before the street sweeper comes. And I, who was content a mere few weeks ago with life, begin my own spring ritual of battling gut-gripping restlessness.

On my father’s side of the family, there was a mysterious aunt who I never met. Aunt Elsie would appear to me only in pictures. I seem to recall one of her perched aloft a motorbike in front of the pyramids, wearing a turban. Or maybe even that was a product of my imagination. It’s hard to remember how Elisie’s legend grew. I only know for sure that she had a whopping case of wanderlust and was not a typical gray haired Auntie. I inherited a bit of Elsie.

My parents also had, and still have, a major appetite for change. They moved for no reason other than to move. My high school boyfriend used to joke that the furniture was moved every time he came over. My father has had countless careers.

All of these things add up to an inherited case of restlessness, which in my case, manifests itself most ferociously at this time of year. Something about the aggressive urgings of nature in Spring call to me and, as Robert Plant sang, “I’ve got to ramble.”

So, I am working incredibly hard to feel contentment. I do not have to rearrange furniture, paint a wall, plant a new bed in the garden, buy a house, change my job, or change anything for that matter. I can simply be happy with things as they are. It is going to be hard as life in my bucolic college town bursts with life-force from the impending changes that will come in the next two months as the earth explodes with green, the houses all go on the market, and about 30,000 students begin their exodus.

Wish me luck as I have no way to take off for an adventure this Spring. May I stay planted happily where I am!

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