As my husband, Brian, and I get ready for the day (and get our children prepared as well) we take turns showering, dressing, eating.  I am sure that most of you parents out there do this as well.  It is a precarious balance some days to get life moving in the A.M. with children.  I took my shower and was getting dressed in the bedroom, while Brian was with my daughter, Maya, and son, August, in our living room.  I could hear everything that was going on and as I eavesdropped, my family played.

Maya, who is 2, had engaged the others in a game of “monsters”- not the scary kind, the giggly, roaring, lets-hide-in-the-couch kind.  It was an elaborate scenario that included the 9 month old baby!  They were fully engaged and I felt profoundly lucky to have been able to witness this and overjoyed for my children that their father would be willing to delve so fully and happily into imaginative play.

And this is what I learned:

Sometimes the best way to ensure your children’s mental health might be to abandon the routine.  I honestly could not remember the last time I was completely in the moment with my children the way that things were unfolding in the living room that morning.

My husband may have made a conscious choice to stop all the morning routines that we know are so necessary, but I like to think that his impulse to follow my daughter’s imagination had actually been the mindful choice.

And my choice, that turned out to be mindful as well was to sit back, listen, and appreciate the beauty of my family’s connections to one another.  It is possible that in doing nothing, I had done everything that my children needed.

Today’s Mindfulness Practice Take time to witness your children and what they have to bring to the world.  Listen to who they are, what they want to do, and follow their lead if possible.  Create space for this by designating a time without TV, computers, phones, etc.  You may only need a few moments in a day that is usually very busy.

Post contributed by Elizabeth Dukes. Elizabeth is trained as an art therapist and works as a therapist serving children and their families in South Carolina. She has also worked in community mental health and most recently with children and families affected by childhood trauma and abuse. Elizabeth received a bachelor’s degree from Rhodes College, where she focused on studio art, and a master’s degree from Eastern Virginia Medical School, where she specialied in art therapy. She is most passionate about the visual arts, yoga practice and motherhood.

Whenever we search externally for happiness, through things, relationships, food, alcohol, or whatever our drug may be, we may find it for a moment, but ultimately we will have to  face whatever we were running from to begin with.

True happiness involves acceptance of all this life has to offer. A regular mindfulness practice can help with this. Mindfulness is awareness of what is happening in any given moment, and it is practiced without judgement. There are formal practices, where you might sit in a quiet undisturbed place for a specific amount of time. But you can also practice mindfulness informally. This may be helpful if sitting still is particularly difficult for you. Try the informal mindfulness practice for happiness below.

Today’s Mindfulness Practice: Take time today to notice something that you have been fighting. It could be something someone has said or done, or something painful that has happened. If this is your first time practicing, choose something small (like a driver cutting you off in traffic). When you notice yourself judging: “that’s so inconsiderate…”, then take a few slow, deep breaths. Allow the judgement to pass, and continue on with your day. Each time the choosen situation comes up today, intentionally practice this informal mindfulness: notice the judgement, observe slow breaths, and let go of the judgemental thought.

Post contributed by Mary How. Mary is the owner of Angelfish Creations, LLC and editor of the Flying Fish Blog.

Looking for a creative endeavor? Next week, artist Khaldoune Bencheikh  and I will be working with the Columbia community to install Rangoli: Giant Bird Feeder. The rangoli, believed to welcome good luck and fortune, is a traditional folk art of India using natural materials in a decorative floor pattern.

Rangoli Project at the TAPPS Center for the Arts 2011

Please join us! Stop by the corner of Lincoln and Lady Streets during the day April 24-26 (Tuesday-Thursday) to add your creative touch to the project which aims to energize communities about the value of art as a tool for healthy and creative self expression. 

Bring one or more brightly colored, natural items that can be used to feed birds native to the SC Midlands area including berries, spices, bird seed, cut flowers, fruit, fruit peels, herbs, and nuts.

The exhibit will be a part of the Install It 2 exhibits for  Artista Vista 2012, the Midlands largest 3 day gallery art crawl.

Post contributed by Mary How. Mary is the owner of Angelfish Creations, LLC and editor of the Flying Fish Blog.

But the Earth is home for me, and although there are times I feel very alone, connectedness is a state I often long for. I find that the more I practice being mindful, the more connected I feel to the world around me; even when I am physically alone.

I remember studying existential psychology in school. It is the belief that there a two main crisis’s points in life. The first is that we are ultimately alone and the second is that we will die. Have you struggled with this too? Or better yet, how often have you struggled with this? For me this struggle comes in waves, like the currents in the ocean. The more I fight it, the more it takes me under. But if I let go, and ride the wave out, I tend to suffer less.

While this existential crisis is real enough, it seems like it is the ego that needs to be separate, unique and special. Ultimately, though, we are all connected. If we still ourselves and listen to our inner wisdom, the God that lives within each of us, and every other aspect of creation, then we are able to see the truth in how connected we really are.

Today’s Mindfulness Practice: Awareness of the present moment and your five senses is helpful in feeling connected. Sit comfortably and still in a quiet place. Close your eyes and breathe in through your nose slowly and deeply. Then exhale slowly and deeply. Take several breaths to calm your mind, allowing unwanted thoughts to leave your mind as quickly as they come. Now notice your connection to the Earth. Notice how your chair or the ground holds you up and supports your body. Notice your feet and arms and how they are resting. Notice what is supporting your feet and arms. If your feet are touching the ground, notice that it is the same ground that everyone else is walking on. Notice any noises. Do you hear people or other creatures? Notice that you are breathing the same air that they are breathing. Continue to move through your body noticing anything that is connected to the Earth or another being. Breathe deeply and evenly.

This mindfulness exercise can be practiced formally in a quiet, isolated place, but it can also be practiced informally, especially in group situations where you may be feeling disconnected. If practicing informally, you may want to engage in the group by listening or even talking, while noticing the subtle ways you are connected to the group.

Post contributed by Mary How. Mary is the owner of Angelfish Creations, LLC and editor of the Flying Fish Blog.

Oh yes, I said, I saw it the other day. Isn’t it lovely. David sent it. From there we went about our work of preparing food for friends who were arriving soon.

Sometime later I remembered this moment and noted my matter of fact, unquestioning attitude about where the flower came from. It seemed so natural to me. My husband, David, died five years ago. He died on a beautiful day in early March. We had traveled to Charlotte, NC to visit his beloved sister. With no warning he had a heart attack. None of the attempts to revive him were successful.

The shock reverberated through our family and community for a very long time. David was one of those “larger than life” people. He was fully engaged in life. Whatever he embraced was to receive his full attention.

One of David’s many passions was gardening. He frequently would leave a flower for those he cared about. So many times over the years a flower would appear by my office door, in the kitchen, or by the bedside.

He was forever sending his love. It seemed perfectly natural to me to assume this lone flower growing by my door was from him.

In the days, months and even years following David’s death I struggled to come to terms with the reality that his life here had made its full bloom. I have learned countless lessons in the five years since his death. One profound lesson I have gained is this: while we will inevitably struggle against change such as losing a loved one, once we engage the change, our minds become wiser and our hearts become tenderer.

I read a quote recently that said stay alive to the changes in the terrain and trust the path as it appears before you. Don’t try to impose your map upon it. Now that is easier said than done, but as I find my way through this transistion in my own life, I can see the wisdom of these ideas.

We know that we will not live forever and yet when we lose someone or when our health is in question, we often react as though we had no idea this could happen.

At some point, I began to realize that I had a choice about the way that I responded to the loss of my beloved husband. I could struggle against it or I could fully engage the change and see what new seeds of my life would grow. None of this is without the pain of loss; that is as natural as it can be, and change  is the most natural part of life.

In looking at all the changes that have occurred in my life since David’s death, it takes my breath away. Four new “little people” in our family, graduations, more deaths, new homes, new jobs and new people have all been a part of the journey since that day.

The cycle goes on and on. Endlessly.

Creation, sustenance, and dissolution.

This is the cycle of life. The fullness is in the way we embrace our life and in the way that we let go. We find fullness in the way that we engage the complete spectrum of life. This means ALL of life.

The seeds of potential are in the dissolving if we choose to see. That is difficult, yet, if we choose to ignore the dissolution, resist change and continually struggle against it, we are missing the life we have right now.

We miss the opportunity to full-out, engage the moment.

We miss the chance to create our own full bloom.

What does this serve?

It does not serve the ones that we lose. Those we love who pass away surely want us to continue to fully engage our life.

As for the iris, it is dissolving now, back into the earth. In its full bloom, it was truly glorious. That lone iris brought much pleasure and elight to us as it reached its full potential. As I have watched it dissolve over these last few days, I have felt a tinge of sadness to see this lovely gift fade away. I also felt overwhelming love and gratitude of the gift of this lovely flower’s beauty and for my beloved husband.

I am rooted deeply now into the knowledge that the cycles of life are profoundly wise, and that life is always becoming.

Post contributed by Jemme Stewart. With training in counseling, a medical background in psychiatric nursing, as well as experience as a yoga teacher, Jemme brings a unique and holistic approach to working with clients. The bringing together of what is valuable from Western teachings and Eastern teachings, has been the focus of her work over the last few years.

“With nearly forty years of experience working with families, individuals, and groups, not only do I continue to grow and study in my field of interest, but I am passionate about my life work and devote myself to my own personal growth and the personal growth of my clients.”

The author writes…

I had seen thirty-eight Blood Moons, an age that carries its own madness and futility.  With a nearly desperate sense of isolation and a growing suspicion that I lived in an alien land, I took to the open road in search of places where change did not mean ruin and where time and men and deeds connected.

Strangely and mystically, this book came into my awareness as a suggestion from a website where I had booked a plan ticket. The website sent me an email of suggested reading and music selections to take along on a flight.

This book is about a man who confronts some of his identity but also his loneliness.  He travels the nation’s “blue highways,” secondary routes, in a circular pattern from Missouri to the East, Southeast, South, Southwest, up the west coast, across the plains states, into the Midwest, up to the North, across to the Northeast, and back down and home to Missouri.

After losing his job, his relationship, and questioning his purpose he, understatedly, needed to “find himself” or something, but ended up discovering what is true. The one thing we often take for granted: no matter where you go, you will find people with incredible stories and you’ll also get to share your own.

Wherever I travel, I am usually presented with opportunities to meet interesting individuals doing something incredible.  It’s almost as if people are placed along the timeline of your life to impart some wisdom you need to get to the next phase!

Seven years ago I experinced this type of opportunity while witnessing the rite of marriage and travelling across country. I had the most interesting and peculiar conversations. It was said to me during a very serendipitous airplane conversation, that as I turned 29 years old, my nose was getting rubbed in adulthood.

I had flown to the Pacific Northwest in the late summer, 2005, had just celebrated my 29^th birthday and was looking forward to a friend’s wedding, but also feeling some trepidation while facing my own “singlehood.”  On the way home I met an insightful and brilliant woman and her companion.  The woman became interested in my knitting and before I knew it she was giving me some spiritual advice based on the cosmos and zodiac.

She explained what I had already begun to know: moving from your 20s into your 30s was an understated and tumultuous change.  We create expectations for ourselves and our lives that are built on fantasy and stories from what we’ve learned to be true of human existence: that we are always trying to find some meaning or legacy of our lives to impart, and that we are seeking partnership so as not to create this legacy alone.

Life’s experiences for us all are happenchance and also probably knit together by the universe. Then again, maybe all the pieces are put together into a whole which is representative of the kind of life we made for the kind of person we are.  That is, we rarely take a moment to look at the whole picture for we are firmly feeling out each moment.

I see this in my work as a substance abuse counselor, each moment for some people are lived based on “what” or “how” we feel – some things are tolerated, while negative things are absolutely not tolerated, or, rather, obliterated. Negative moments can be welcomed in order to create an excuse for an escape.  Isn’t this how things work anyway?

We have to have low moments, moments of some sort of disillusion and destruction in order for true growth and knowledge.  Least Heat-Moon contemplates and ponders, throughout his journey, the meaning of his encounters, the effect on his own state of being, and the notion of moving forward.

While I had failed to put any fragments of my journey into a whole, I did have a vague sense of mentally moving away from some things and toward others.  But in the Sierra gloom, even that notion seemed an illusion produced by motion down a highway, as if the road moved through me in a continual coming and going that was, in the long run, stasis.

I was on a Ferris wheel, moving along, seeing far horizons, coming close to earth rising again, moving, moving, but all the time turning in the same orbit.  Black Elk says, ‘Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle.’ A hope.

Missourians sometimes speak of a place called Hacklebarney: a nonexistent town you try to get to that is forever just around the next curve or just over the next hill, a town you believe in but never get to.

What had happened during that trip out to the Washington state is that I confronted some of my adolescent fears of loneliness and embraced that what comes into our world is supposed to be there.  I was surrounded by dear friends throughout that trip, and was witness to a wedding.  The meaning of that ceremony gets lost in the details most times.  I had an opportunity to have a conversation with the bride, one of my dearest friends, about the meaning of that moment for her.  I hadn’t realized that a wedding is a ceremony that indicates a shift of our very identity.  We are no longer just the individual, but part of a union of two individuals.  There is a loss as much as there is a gain.

The mysticism and fantasy surrounding weddings usually focuses so much on the fanfare that the actual event itself becomes a joyous extravaganza filled with beauty.  But for the individuals, it means letting go of our solo venture and joining a companion.   I don’t think I would have come to that realization at any other age – that was at 29-years-old.  I have become 35-years-old and have ventured into the new territory which is adulthood; almost in the middle, but still holding on to some of the tenacity of youth.  I have been to many countries throughout the world and around the country.  I have moved far away from home.  I have completed journeys through adolescence, various stages of education, and into and out of relationships.  Currently I find myself moving toward comfort with self and that elusive place: acceptance.

A man lives in things and things are moving.  He stands apart in such a temporary way it is hardly worth speaking of.  If that perception dims egocentrism, that illusion of what man is, then it also enlarges his self, that multiple yet whole part which he has been, will be, is.  (Least Heat-Moon, 1982, pg. 241)

When you need it, a message will find you; to help you move into the next place you need to be.  Venture into the journey of Blue Highways, it will shed some light on where you are now.

Post contributed by Kerry Kruk. Kerry Kruk is an art therapist and substance abuse counselor at an inpatient crisis stabilization and detoxification unit in Virginia Beach.  Originally from Wisconsin, Kerry earned her bachelor’s degree from Lawrence University where she majored in Biology, Chemistry, and Neuroscience.  Naturally, she moved to Virginia where she earned her master’s degree in Art Therapy from Eastern Virginia Medical School where she now serves as adjunct faculty.  She volunteers for the Tarheel Old English Sheepdog Rescue from which she rescued her sheepdog “Gertie,” and takes Improv comedy classes where she rescued her wonderful Romanian boyfriend.  She is currently enjoying notoriety from various sketch and improv comedy performances around Norfolk, VA.

Embracing myself exactly where I am brings contentment with life.  I look in the mirror and I am happy.  Yes I want to be a little thinner, I wish my boobs would stay in one place, and, like many women the list could go on and on. The truth is, self -acceptance trudges deeper than whether I am happy with what I see in the mirror or not.

For me, self- acceptance is this: do I like me enough that, if I were alone on an island, would I vote myself off?

In my 20’s I was more in a self-loathing state of mind and life was weighing me down, (just graduating from college with absolutely NO responsibilities can do this to a person ~ha!).   In an effort to “fix” this problem I found a therapist who asked me what I might say to my 15-year-old self.

Wanting my therapist to like me, I immediately lied and said things I thought she wanted to hear like “You’re pretty” and “Everything is going to be ok.”  When really, if I were being honest I would have shaken the 15-year-old Laura and screamed

             Stop throwing up to be skinny! 

             Keep your legs and mouth shut!

            Your body isn’t a circus, for crying out loud!

            Quit drinking!   

In actuality, I can’t have this conversation because I did indeed do all of that stuff, with aplomb, for a long time.

Here is the gift of today though: I can thank God for giving me life now, the power to accept those past experiences, and gratitude that l I do not do it anymore.

In order to have self- acceptance today, I am to embrace that stupid little slut and tell her at every single age that everything is going to be just fine, because I am imperfectly me. Truly accepting myself for who I am, I don’t have to be hard on myself for the mistakes of my past.

Life isn’t perfect.   Yes, this is cliché, but knowing this truth is a key to self acceptance. When you don’t see life as needing to be perfect, then you aren’t out there searching for it.  Instead, you are actually accepting life as it comes to you, and you are accepting yourself in the midst of the imperfection.

When I was the angriest about the imperfection of life I was in a difficult marriage, drank every day, starved myself to lose weight, ate to get through stress, and trained for marathon after marathon. All of these were wasted efforts of chasing the perfection that was not out there to attain.  All I needed was to sit back and listen for the still, small voice of God to tell me I was imperfect, because He made me that way. In many ways I did have the perfect life, the only thing I was missing was self -acceptance.

Attaining this perspective of self-acceptance was difficult for me and plenty of work, but it is an easier way of living.  Today I like me, in the mirror and hanging out on the island, or wherever my day takes me.  Not because I’m perfect, but because I have been flawed and imperfect every step of the way.

Post contributed by Laura Bryan.  Laura is a mother, wife, dog owner and human being. She loves God, the ocean and s’mores.  Being a mother has taught her nothing is perfect and why should it be because life is more fun when it’s messy and character comes with the interruptions.  

Ugh!  My self-esteem is my responsibility!

Why, then, do I care so much about how others perceive me?  Why do I care what other people think?

I want to be seen by my boss as professional and skilled. I want to be seen by my parents as responsible.  I want to be seen by my friends as loyal and funny… Sometimes I forget that I can see myself.

Self-reflection can be difficult.  I think we hold on to our memories as evidence. Evidence of when I’m funny, evidence of when I’m responsible, evidence of when I’m skilled… But I also have a tight grip on other kinds of evidence:   memories of times when I made a mistake, and of when I felt slighted, rejected, and hurt.  For instance, I say I’m not good at sports because I was terrible at softball, but I haven’t tried every sport out there.  I simply formed a belief because of several failed attempts at being a high school athletic star.  This is where we are so fallible: we seem to form beliefs based on very little information.

Fortunately, the art of psychotherapy is a good debunker of self-deprecating beliefs! As any good therapy client knows, if you listen as much as you talk in session, you will receive messages delivered objectively to you in response to your self-exploration.

Statements heard in therapy can have astounding ripple effects on our psyche.  This happened to me one day.  I was seeking some assistance to get through what I felt was stagnation in my life.  In a therapy session, while responding to some frustration about how I wish I were better at something, my counselor simply stated that all of us are operating on the best information that we have; but no one really knows the “right” answer to any of our actions, situations, and scenarios.

We’re all fumbling along making choices and decisions, but no one really knows the “right” answer.  We act in ways that seem right to us at the time.

I have been judging myself compared to some standard that no one but my wild imagination has any idea about.  We think ourselves into believing that where we are isn’t where we’re supposed to be.  Why is this?

Hearing this validation, that no one knows the absolute truth of what is the right way to act, perform, progress through life, and there: I felt it. It was as if I could breathe fresh air and the muscles loosened around my shoulders.  I could look at all my interactions as choices I was making rather than an expectation of who I’m “supposed” to be!  This is a fascinating transition. I was free to explore my authentic responses.

I want to give that relief to everyone so that we can listen more actively, care more deeply, and develop much more empathy.  If we come to understand that we are making the best decisions for the time being, the pressure is off!  Begin to see yourself only as a rare, wonderful, beautiful creature seeking to meander through each day gracefully making choices that lead us to the next scenario.

Know thyself – and then be willing to relearn!

Post contributed by Kerry Kruk. Kerry Kruk is an art therapist and substance abuse counselor at an inpatient crisis stabilization and detoxification unit in Virginia Beach.  Originally from Wisconsin, Kerry earned her bachelor’s degree from Lawrence University where she majored in Biology, Chemistry, and Neuroscience.  Naturally, she moved to Virginia where she earned her master’s degree in Art Therapy from Eastern Virginia Medical School where she now serves as adjunct faculty.  She volunteers for the Tarheel Old English Sheepdog Rescue from which she rescued her sheepdog “Gertie,” and takes Improv comedy classes where she rescued her wonderful Romanian boyfriend.  She is currently enjoying notoriety from various sketch and improv comedy performances around Norfolk, VA.