REMINDER: SAY NO

Taking a break for a minute from travel reporting to ponder what commitment means.

This is the Last Weekend before the mid-term election.  We've been waiting two very long and troubling years for this shot at a do-over.  Of course, the presidency isn't at stake, but we have a chance at electing a Congress that might do its checks and balances job if the Dems succeed in winning one or both of the Houses.  Big governors races and state house races hang in the balance too.  It all matters.

Hub and I and a partial handful close friends have been in total immersion for the past two years, worrying about, working on, and committing significant time to political actions.  We are all tired.  We all need a break.

But Hub is out right now in the pouring rain canvassing again, as he's done nearly every day for the past month (and before that gathering signatures all summer!), to try to pass a state-wide initiative to place a carbon fee on big polluters to fund clean energy development.   I got trained to do Canvass Training for volunteer canvassers and we opened our home to be a Pop-Up Canvassing location every weekday afternoon and twice on Saturdays and Sundays.  People were to sign up, come to be trained, pick up materials, and go out doorbelling.

We've had only a handful of sign-ups, three active canvassers, and a couple of no-shows -- one guy signed up three times and no-showed every time, even though Hub called to confirm with him and he assured us he'd be here.  It's been frustrating, sitting here waiting for our canvassers to show up, training materials at the ready.  But we were here because we said we'd be here.  We cancelled plans, altered our schedules.  Hub went out alone every day, because he'd made a commitment to the campaign...and to himself.

We did all of this because we'd made a commitment to do so.  I made the commitment to people who were counting on me to follow through on what I said I'd do.  I made a commitment to myself to do all I could, and that commitment has resulted in lots of self-judgment today.  Did I REALLY do all I could?

Commitment.  I take that word so seriously that oftentimes it's to my detriment.  My commitments have too often become burdens.  I notice how others carry their commitments. They either never commit to anything or keep their options open with a non-committal "maybe".  Some commit then bail out without a backward glance or second thought.  I've been very judgmental of people like this.

I found myself in tears earlier today because I feel like I'm failing at the mid-term Finish Line because of how much I hate phone banking, but know I should do it.  I think of all the ways in which I could have been more active, more effective than being the Queen of FB posts trying to provide information and motivation for others to take actions too.  I donated money.  I wrote over 200 postcards to likely Democratic voters on behalf of candidates all over the country.  I attended meetings, and trainings, and rallies.  I wrote a letter to the editor (because I said I would when asked at a training) and edited Hub's Guest Commentary for the local paper.  I prepared materials for canvassing and wrote personal emails to 60 friends to urge them to vote for our initiative.  But today I trouble myself that I only did the easy stuff; I didn't challenge myself enough -- didn't do the dreaded doorbell or phone call thing on behalf of candidates I support.

My new commitment after the election Tuesday is to make no ongoing commitments beyond self-care.  I'm committing to my yoga class and a few strength classes at the Y.  I've got a doctor's appointment and I plan to get a massage.  I'll make coffee dates with friends, but only a day or two in advance.  For the foreseeable future I want everything on my calendar to be able to be changed if I change my mind.

I need to take a break from commitment as burden.  I know I sound like a bit of a whiner here.  Not intended.  What I really feel is the lifting of a weight.

There are unexpected lessons in everything we do.  I have killed myself by degrees with commitments for years -- to family, work, church, "causes", groups, and yes, politics at various times.  I commit to one thing and that leads to dozens more things in service to doing my best by the one thing I committed to; if my commitment to the one thing is to be meaningful and complete.

The past two years of trying to rally the troops, to create Resistance/Support groups, to motivate, to act on an obsessive need to do something in the face of what I consider to be an unfettered slide into authoritarianism has been frustrating.  I've not been able to understand how others can just go on with their lives as if nothing awful is happening, even when they agree it is awful.  But I want to slow down and try to get it.  Slow down and watch how others manage their lives with more ease.  I might learn from them to take commitment much, much more lightly.

If anything, I know I need to set a boundary for myself.  I need a "safe word".  I think that word will be NO.  I'll let you know how it goes.....if I feel like it. 😉

At least, that's the view from here...©

ADDENDUM:  OK.  I didn't mean this post to be a cry for advice, attention, affirmation, or encouragement.  But that's what I got from some quarters, so thanks, but really what I was trying to convey was my own inability to hold a healthy boundary and by sharing that, perhaps others could relate and not feel so crazy out there.  That's mostly what I hope the blog will create -- connection and commonality around the human condition.

Also, we lost the Initiative campaign and I cried for 24 hours and ranted about stupid people and lamented that not enough people cared to help us...blah blah blah.  But we will not give up.  Also the Blue Wave continues to crest as late vote counts are tallied and while some major races were losses (Beto -- see you in 2020), Dems handily won back the House (with a huge influx of women and people of color) and I cannot wait until January when checks and balances return to our government.  Hey, current president....Winter is Coming!

STEPPING BACK

Oh me, Oh my.  I do not like conflict.  But sometimes it's unavoidable and then I'm not afraid to face it head on.  It takes me awhile and I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, then I just get to a point where I feel I've done all I can do and have nothing to lose by falling into the fray.  I feel both liberation and loss when that happens.  Because I know for me something's gotta change.

I love my Unitarian Universalist church, but it hasn't felt very church-y to me for awhile.  I've been in some form of leadership position there for a very long time, active and visible and trying to help create a growing, thriving, welcoming place of personal refuge, spiritual growth, and targeted activism.  My focus has been on organizational structure and transition over the past few years.  There is a joke amongst UUs that trying to move that group in one direction is like herding cats.  We are an independent, anti-authoritarian crowd who rely on the democratic process in decision-making, but are not above a good protest when outcomes don't agree with our way of thinking.

I feel like we've had one controversy after another over the past couple of years and we are currently embroiled in a brouhaha that is slipping into way, way too much of my personal life.  Its tentacles are reaching beyond the actual "issue" and now even the response to the original issue is becoming the problem.  People are choosing up sides and I can't take it anymore.  Well, I don't want to.

A couple of weeks ago, when all of this sort of came to a head for me, I was visiting friends at their new beach house and one evening our conversation centered around our spiritual practices and what we want in a spiritual home.  It revealed to me that most of my actual spiritual practices have little to do with Sunday morning worship.  Meditation, yoga, writing, and my current addiction to the Outlander book series (HAHA) don't happen in the confines of my church.  It gave me pause.

Then, the following night we explored this statement: "If you don't know where you want to be in five years, you are already there", meaning, of course, that without a goal/plan/dream, nothing will change.

We each talked about our personal goals for the near future, which led us to realizing that if we are not already living toward that goal, living already each day in service to our dream, we are missing the mark.  No magic wand will wave and put us in our own personal Nirvana in five years' time.  I won't magically be in terrific cardiac health in five years if I don't get on the treadmill today.   Whatever the goal, it starts now.

We talked about what actions and activities touch our "essence" -- those moments when we are what is called, "in the flow", when chronological time seems to disappear and we enter "soul time", lost in pure joy and spirit.  For some it happens when listening to, singing or playing music, for others when painting, or gardening, or running, or hiking.  For me, again, I am lost in my Yoga practice, meditation, and writing; also when gathered in fun and laughter with close friends and family, and I would add lately when doing crafts with my granddaughter.  No church building or committee or controversy over policies, politics, or personalities required.

This past week I resigned from an important leadership group at my church and have declared I will not accept any leadership position in the foreseeable future beyond continuing to facilitate the WISE  group for women over 60 years old, which I've done for five years.  This is not a tantrum.  I'm not party to or personally involved in the current controversy.  I have an opinion, but it's not public.  It's just that in my capacity of leadership I was being drawn into the quagmire, losing sleep, dealing with side issues and seeing some people I have admired and some I have called friends behaving with surprisingly questionable wisdom and appallingly questionable outrage.

Going back to the beach house conversations, it was clear that this church stuff was dramatically impacting my ability to have opportunities to be "in the flow" -- to make choices about how to spend my time and energy, touching my essence.   In five years' time I'll be nearly 70 years old.  I know how fast five years flies by; how fast a lifetime flies by.

I recalled Mary Oliver's brilliant poem, "The Summer Day" and its stunning closing words:
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?


I thought about my "one wild and precious life" and how much of it I've spent fulfilling commitments.  I took my concerns about "bailing on my commitment" at church into meditation; some would call it prayer.  My decision became crystal clear:  I will waste not one more sleepless night on policies and procedures, conflict and controversy not of my own making or of my personal responsibility.  I love my church; I love my community there.  But my sense of personal integrity around honoring a commitment I made to be on that committee felt like a burden -- and an obstacle to following my heart.  I was out of integrity with myself and if I didn't stop this pattern, nothing would be different in five years' time.


Stepping back is not stepping out, but it is stepping into a new way of being with a church and a community that has been central to my life for 23 years.  Liberation and loss.  Yes, that about sums it up on this sunny Sunday morning as I sit at my writing desk...in the flow, if not in the pew.

At least, that's the view from here....©

MY STINT AS FIRST LADY

Had breakfast with a BFF this morning and told her, "I'm even sick of myself…I can't imagine how everyone else must feel!"  And then I went on to compare myself to Hilary Clinton.  Because we have both been First Ladies…she was and I am.

Well, I gave myself the moniker when Hub became President of the Board of Trustees at our Unitarian Universalist Fellowship last summer.   As First Lady I have no official duties, but I do feel it is my job to support the President and not schedule our weekly Family Dinner with our grown sons on Board meeting nights.  I also help write his monthly newsletter column because I can do in 20 minutes what would take him hours, so it's in my own self-interest, really.  I prefer to hang out with him rather than have him hunched over the computer.  I serve as a sounding board when he has a challenge or the germ of an idea.  We talk and talk and plan and organize and prepare and brainstorm and try to find consensus and middle ground with any plan or problem, keeping in mind the policies already in place, the interested parties and who will be effected, those who will be pleased, those who will be disappointed or angry.  We try to be patient and set aside our own agendas for the greater good of the whole.  He works hard at his Presidential tasks, some part of every day, and it seems we both spend an inordinate amount of time on Fellowship business.  It's all rather exhausting sometimes and I have taken to wondering what we will do and talk about when we don't do and talk about "the Fellowship"so much anymore.

I do find my own ongoing activities are consuming me at the Fellowship too.  I could list all the things I'm deeply involved in, organize and facilitate regularly or occasionally, and some where I dabble at the edges.  There are the long-term commitments and the ad hoc committees.  There are the one-time deals and the once in a while tasks.  Really, I feel I could fill a page with it all.  Which is the problem….and the reason I (and others, no doubt) are a bit sick of me.

I'm of two minds about this. Sometimes I feel way out of balance; like I've taken on too much and the feelings of frustration that creep up at times are a good indicator that this is so.  I get all control-y and piss-y when I just want to get the job done, forgetting the delicate interplay between the task we may all agree upon (if we've gotten to consensus at all) and the "right" way to accomplish it and when.  I feel way out of balance; like when I wake in the middle of the night worried about a comment I made, how someone might be miffed with me, what color to paint the meditation room, or which playlist to prepare for the Ecstatic Dance group.  I feel way out of balance, when I find myself making six 20 minute one-way driving trips to the Fellowship within 4 days all for legitimate reasons to show up for things I was committed to.  I feel way out of balance, as stated earlier, when Hub and I cannot spend more than 15 minutes in conversation without some mention of our church life.

On the other hand, I truly love this community.  I am retired from paid work. I have ample time, some skill, an obvious interest -- indeed, a passion for making our Fellowship as welcoming, vibrant, and  challenging (in a good way) and spirit-filled as I can.  I feel an obligation during this season in my life to take my turn doing this work.

I think back to those who were in this position when we first came to the Fellowship 23 years ago.  They were then at the age and stage of life that we are now.  I was so impressed with their creative energy, their dedication and tireless work.  As they eased somewhat out of that season of their lives, we've grown into it.  Others will come after us….I am certain.  Part of my motivation is to help ensure that this special Fellowship that means so much to so many of us will continue to grow and prosper and when I am an elder (even more elder than now) others will be ready to lead.

So, I thought of the "you get two for the price of one" partnership that has been Bill and Hilary Clinton and understood on a comparatively teeny-tiny scale that when two people are dedicated to the same cause, the same community, the same hope for the future, there will occur times of annoyance and impatience and over-exposure on all sides.  When Hub's presidency year ends, and his past-president duties are complete after next year, we may have to take a bit of a Sabbatical to get this all back in balance.  But for now, sick of me or not, here I am.  I'll just try my best to be nice about it.  And hope I see more people walk toward me on Sunday mornings than away.

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

Not familiar with Unitarian Universalism?  Check out the UUA website:  http://www.uua.org

A PLACE TO CALL HOME

I've been thinking about home lately and the cocoon it provides to my introverted inner self.

I am a homebody.  I love being surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, and smells.   I feel comfortable and safe.  I feel alive and relaxed.  I feel, well, "at home".  Even when traveling, I tend to want to return to places I've loved before, places that feel like "home" to me.  Maybe that's why Hub and I have only moved 3 times in our 41 years of marriage (and have been in this house for the past 31) and go to Kauai'i every single year and to a nearby port town for our annual December romantic getaway every holiday season.  Naturally, we've visited other places, but we tend not to adventure much -- we tend to return, again and agin, to places we know and love.

That said, every once in a while I get a hankering…and a wondering.  Am I living where I am meant to live?  Is there someplace else I would love even more?  I once met a guy who helped people find their "place".  By the way, this is what happens when an introvert wanders outside the immediate friendship fold and meets a stranger at a Kirtan retreat who is a 30-something, bearded, geographical astrologer; after two days he isn't a stranger anymore and what he says starts to make sense.   This guy, for a fee of some many dollars, offered to do a reading for me (basically a lengthy interview), and from that and the way the stars lined up at my birth or something, would discern the geographic location best suited for me -- body and soul.  It is amazing, he said, how often people's lives fall into the right rhythm when they finally find their "place".  Health improves, spirits lift, wealth flows.  Wow.

But the skeptic in me wonders if any place is forever fabulous.  That port town Hub and I love so much has been the subject of many years' pondering -- should we move there?  "It would be so awesome to live there!", we think.  But would it?  Would its relative isolation and smallish-ness come to feel claustrophobic?  Would we miss the bustle of a more urban area?  Our many good friends?  Our family  10 minutes away (instead of 2-1/2 hours)?  Is "home" just a place on a map, no matter how geographically perfect, or is it, after many, many years of putting down roots also a place of friends, family, memories, familiarity, connection, and commitment?

We could move.  We could go anywhere.  We have always had a "grass is greener" wandering eye, wondering in each place we've visited, "Would we want to live here?"  But we always came back home.  Now, though, there is no job holding us; the kids are grown; the house is too big; the maintenance expensive and wearying.   We know many folks our age who have left it all….those who have acted upon the stereotypical retirement dream of relocating to a warmer climate or a smaller town and starting over.  There is a part of me that actually feels some excitement about that -- the possibilities of a new place, a new life, a new beginning.  Yet….

There is so much holding me here.  So much I still love and want in my life that is RIGHT HERE, in my house, in my community, in my little corner of the world.  It could be I am tempted by the"idea" of a new life, but tempered by the reality that I'd just be taking this life right along with me no matter where I go.

Creating a home, I think, is an act of commitment to place and to spirit.  When those align we've found where we are meant to be.  The trick is to recognize it when it happens and to stop looking over our shoulders or scanning the horizon.  The trick, for me, is to be "home" no matter where I am -- here in my big, old, beautiful comfortable house -- and there -- on Kalapaki Beach, or the Palace Hotel, or in the back of my truck camper on a high mountain highway.  I am home.  I am home.

At least, that's the view from here….