Mindfulness and Alice in Wonderland

Children’s books are often rightly attacked for perpetuating dominant cultural modes: the white families of “Dick, Jane, and Sally,” the world of happy housewives, and countless other stereotypes.

For the many books that attempt to subdue rebellious impulses, there are at least a few that broadcast, whether consciously or unconsciously, subversive messages.

Recently I reread Alice in Wonderland, a favorite of mine in my childhood (mainly because of the cat). In this rereading, I found the book to be highly subversive in a way that I like.

For those who are unfamiliar with or who have forgotten the story, Alice falls asleep one summer afternoon and dreams that she’s in a very strange place with unusual beings of both the human and animal variety. She ultimately becomes involved in a croquet match involving flamingos as mallets, hedgehogs as balls, and playing cards as hoops.

The Queen of Hearts, who changes her mind about what she wants every few minutes, takes a strong dislike for Alice and decides that she must die, shouting, “Off with her head!” In the middle of this dream, Alice comes to awareness and realizes that the Queen’s army is nothing but a pack of playing cards. She knocks them all down and wakes up.

As a kid, I didn’t get the deeper meaning of this. I knew that dreams and waking reality were different. Only with age and some small degree of wisdom have I come to realize that waking reality isn’t all that real.

In our conceptions of our lives, we may have created details as bizarre as Cheshire Cats and Mad Hatters and feel that life is shouting, “Off with her head!”

Imagine a world in which you can be tall and proud when you think about your children and small and weak when you contemplate changing your career. No drugs are required in either situation.

Imagine believing you’re not as good as someone else—or better than someone.

Imagine thinking that you exist for any other reason than to realize your full potential and making a difference in the world.

Imagine waking up to the reality that such beliefs are nothing more than a pack of playing cards.

Another subversive children’s writer, Dr. Seuss, has this to say: “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”

Can you think of one good reason?

Losing Things

In November I took a workshop. During the course of the two days, I lost things.

I lose and misplace things from time to time, but this was an extravaganza.

On Saturday night, I was back home, getting things out of the car, and I couldn’t find my water bottle. I told myself not to make this a big deal, went into the house, and made it a big deal. By the time I decided to look in the car again, the bottle had turned into a sacred chalice.

I left the house, and my cat, Pangur, ran outside for the first time since she joined me six months ago. This was probably a “I’ll show you you’re not the only one who can leave,” commando action, but I was beginning to feel that the universe was conspiring against me.

It was dark outside, she’s a black cat, and she cleverly dove into the bushes and became invisible. This was definitely a big deal. I’d never find her; she’d get hit by a car; and I’d suffer for the rest of my life. I recovered long enough to go back inside for a bag of treats, which I took outside and rattled. She forgot that she was punishing me and ran back into the house.

The next morning in the workshop room, I found the water bottle on the table where I’d left it. After lunch, though, I couldn’t find my purse. I fled the workshop and went downstairs to the hotel front desk, where no purse had been turned in. This was a BIG deal. Not only was my life over, but I wouldn’t even be able to drive home.

I went back upstairs, looked on the floor, and then for no particular reason, looked up at the coat rack. The purse was sitting on top. Apparently, someone put it there.

Why? I asked myself when the workshop was over. Was I losing my mind?

Yes. During the course of the workshop’s intensive exercises, I’d lost beliefs that were old friends, maybe not the best friends to have, but they’d provided the illusion of security. I was there for the purpose of losing them, so I thought I couldn’t mourn about that. Instead, I transferred my panic to a water bottle, cat, and purse.

I learned an important lesson from this: that the casting away of core beliefs, habits, and other structures I’ve built to keep myself supposedly safe IS A BIG DEAL. If I don’t acknowledge that it can be frightening, I’m going to frighten myself in other ways because the emotions, whether they be fear, grief, or massive insecurity, need to be expressed.

Mindfulness means attentiveness to my emotional state. When I’m tuning into myself, I can take the necessary precautions against the results of inner chaos. I can deliberately notice where the water bottle, the purse, and the cat are. More important, I put myself in training to be aware of my outer world, too. In such a state, each moment matters.

I don’t know if I’ve completely learned the lesson, but I’m sure I’m getting closer.

The workshop, by the way, was called Matrix Reimprinting, and it was pretty great. If you ever take it, though, hang on to your stuff—your physical stuff. Let the rest go, but be sure to wave good-bye.

The Trouble with Promises

Have you ever made a promise you didn’t want to keep? This happened to me recently.

I received an unexpected call from a radio show in Charleston, South Carolina. The caller asked me if I was ready to be interviewed.

No, I was not. Although I usually note pending interviews (and any other appointments) in my calendar, I hadn’t made a note of this date two months ago, when the initial arrangements were made. To add to the confusion, I also hadn’t received the two reminders the station had sent me.

I felt totally unprepared and very apprehensive about risking that an unknown number of people would hear me acting like an idiot. This, not incidentally, forms the foundation of many of my fears about marketing work, and it was easy for me to figure out how I “forgot” this appointment.

Since I had about a thirty-second window of opportunity to make a decision, the above thoughts flashed very quickly through my mind. Others joined them. First, and most important, I’d promised the interview, and I consider a promise a responsibility. In line with that commitment, I thought about the announcer, who would be faced with a gap in his programming and about listeners, who might be looking forward to the interview.

In the interests of full disclosure, I confess that the promise, as a matter of integrity, decided me. You’ve probably been in similar situations where keeping your word trumped all other considerations. In such situations I’ve discovered that I can either A. Endure a situation and remind myself that I’m a good person
B. Suffer through it with accompanying resentment
C. Turn it around and have my promise lead me into finding possibility in my circumstances

C., of course, sounds very attractive, but it also sometimes seems unattainable. I can’t remember how many times I’ve unknowingly chosen B., making the fulfillment of a promise I already didn’t want to keep much worse by reminding myself how much I didn’t want to do it.

I find two lessons in this.

The first is to make promises wisely. If I have a negative feeling about it, I’d do better not to make it. Maybe a good person keeps her promises, but she doesn’t have to agree to every request.

A classic example is one of fidelity between partners or spouses. Do not make this promise with your fingers crossed. Don’t agree because you think it’s the right thing to do. Don’t make it with the anticipation that you’ll break it. Don’t even make it in a spirit of resentment, i.e., “This is what I have to do to have the relationship I want, but I don’t like it.”

The most important promise you can ever make is to be true to yourself, to honor and listen to your feelings, to thoughtfully consider any reluctance, and to come to a decision that sits comfortably with you.

I promised to take on the radio interview because to be true to myself as an author in these times, I need not only to write but also to take every opportunity I can get to move through my resistance to self-promotion. That’s a commitment I have to myself.

Having decided to keep this commitment, I also decided to find a way to make its fulfillment enjoyable. I reasoned that the topic, questions based on my book, Animals Have Feelings, Too, was one I knew quite well. If even one human companion got an insight into ways to resolve an issue with a cat or dog, my time would be well spent. Finally, I told my reluctant self that I might have fun.

My commitment paid off. Bob Charles, who interviewed me, was friendly, knowledgeable about my book, and passionate about animals. He asked useful questions. Listeners from around the world asked more. I spent an entertaining hour talking about cats, dogs, and Bach Flower Remedies.

Bob described me as one of the nicest people on the planet. I’m sure there’s a very long line ahead of me, but I didn’t mind hearing it. I have been invited to return to the show.

Overall, it was a huge win, mainly because I kept my promise, not just to Bob but also to myself.

And the life lesson was priceless.

If you’d like to hear the interview, the link is below. As I noted above, it’s about an hour long.

Interview on the Bob Charles Show

How to Crush Your Creativity:Say “I Don’t Know.”

In my last post I described “knowing” as a way to close the door to new ideas that take you into the unknown. In this scenario, saying “I don’t know” can open that door—if saying it stimulates you to shake up your certainty and to explore.

However, saying, “I don’t know” in different situations can keep you on the wrong side of a closed door.

Children know how to work this response.

“How did your floor get all wet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why is your sister crying?”

“I don’t know.”

This is also called lying, and often when we say we don’t know, we’re lying to ourselves. Maybe not often, maybe even always.

“I don’t know” closes and locks the door especially if it has a definite and final sound. It sounds like this: “I don’t know (and I never will). If you listen carefully, you may discover that “I don’t know” really means, “I don’t want to know” (and I have my reasons).

“How can you solve this problem?”

“I don’t know.” And I don’t want to know, because I’ve learned to live with this problem. If I solve it, I KNOW that a new problem will arise, and I won’t know how to live with it.

Or “If I know the answer, I’m going to have to act on it, and that might mean doing something uncomfortable.”

Here’s an example from my own life. Social media generally intimidates me. I have made a promise to myself to master their mysteries, but each new attempt can leave me feeling helpless.

So I DON’T KNOW.

Recently I realized why I didn’t want to know. Being at least semi-reclusive, the idea of networking sounded like going to a huge party where one knows nobody and circulating aimlessly with a drink in hand or paying excessive attention to the food. That was the best-case scenario.

Here’s the worst case. To launch my poor, vulnerable self into the vast sea of social networking felt like swimming in an ocean infested with sharks, piranhas, barracudas, and, quite possibly, poisonous eels. (Yes, all you nice people.) I might make social mistakes, violate rules, and attract attention I didn’t want, or have other yet-unimagined disasters occur.

I don’t say that this discovery instantly solved my social phobia. It did, however, free me from the idea that I was just stupid because I didn’t know what a hash tag was. It meant that, rather than being ruled by a hidden fear, I could bring that fear out into the open and dust it off and decide whether I wanted to keep it.

What matters at this stage is that I have choices. That feels a lot more powerful than saying “I don’t know” and bumping my head into a brick wall or closed door.

Getting out of the “I don’t know” rut sometimes has to be accomplished in stages.

Stage One may be simply listening for the familiar sound of “I don’t know.” This can sometimes halt automatic behavior.

Stage Two may be asking yourself why you don’t know and why you don’t want to know, as I did about social media.

Stage Three involves a shift. Say to yourself, “I don’t know, but I can.” “I don’t know, but I can find out.” “Even though I haven’t wanted to know, I might be a little curious.” “Even though I haven’t wanted to know, it might be fun to see what happens if I found out.”

Maybe it would be.

New Year’s Intentions

This year I realized that the words “resolution” and “goals” didn’t excite me. I wanted a word that had movement and energy, so I chose “intentions.”

I also wanted a theme. I could have laboriously worked one out. Fortunately, my writer’s group, Artistic License, has a member, Marilyn, who’s a tarot expert. We’ve been critiquing the book, and the process (plus her brilliant and lucid explanations) drew me into a deep interest in tarot.

I decided to choose a tarot card that could be a key phrase for the year.

Here’s my card.

Ace of Wands: I am inspired.

This felt totally right. Thus, my overall goal is to increasingly act out of inspiration. In making choices, I will ask myself, “What inspires me?”

This will guide my writing choices, promotional and networking choices, and, most of all, life choices.

I intend to publish a book of advice for cats, for which I am the lowly conduit. The book is currently entitled Cats in Charge: A Guide to World Domination I am targeting April or May for publication and have compiled a list of bloggers/web sites whose owners review books about cats.

In August or September I will publish Book 4 of A Dragon’s Guide to Destiny, Book of Sorrows.

I will continue to work on a novel called Dystopia in Drag, intending a 2014 publication.

I thought the dragon series was over, but to my surprise, I got ideas for a fifth book. This one will be called (I think) The Rainbow Dragon.

As far as life choices, I realized that conscious intentions led to mindfulness, which leads to being in the moment. I couldn’t ask for a better guidance system for this year.

A fellow member of Artistic License, June Diehl, has also posted her intentions and tarot card selections. It’s a terrific post, and you can read it here..