Viewing entries tagged
hope

Optimism is a Choice. Declare it.

If I’ve learned anything at all, it’s that my life has been a series of self-fulfilling prophecies. When I believed love was bullshit, relationships were wastes of time and most people were assholes, guess what? That’s precisely what I experienced. I had no right. To watch many members of my family love one another is akin to listening to the hypnotic and tear-extracting sounds of an impeccable symphony. They love with reckless abandon and unrelenting loyalty. And so do I. Being analytical and pragmatic, even as a damn child, I learned from multiple divorces and negative displays of love that my heart was too fragile to be fucked with, and so I let it shrink, like the Grinch, narrowing my scope and understanding, limiting my experiences and ultimately, myself. The truth of the matter is, I’m not wrong. There’s endless corroborative evidence (a nearly 60% divorce rate, for example) to support my cynicism, but this world is exponentially complex and expansive, how could I ever pigeon hull every human being into one category, or even most of them? Or eliminate the possibility for people and circumstances to change? I can’t. It’s wrong, foolish and keeps me in a cyclone of crankiness. What fun. I’ve learned to feel grateful first, for the simple and the magnificent, and everything blossomed from there. I spent roughly 4 years studying the depths of Nature vs. Nurture. I’ve spent subsequent years with less emphasis on the intellectual pursuit and more with the lessons bestowed by living. I believe wholeheartedly that the way we choose to nurture ourselves once we are responsible for our own growth is entirely indicative of our happiness and success level. My parents did their best job, despite divorces or mistakes, they loved us strongly, provided a pretty healthy genetic make-up to take care of the nature side, and then raised us in a stable, positive environment with valuable life lessons to round out the nurture aspects. Having a practical based brain and then being raised by very logical people fostered an entrenched sense of realism, with little emphasis on imagination or unknown manifestations. That was just me. This is not to disparage any family member; they’re compassionate, humorous people who gave me a love of food, travel and comedy, not to mention their belief I could do anything and the mental fortitude to take care of myself; however, there’s at times an imbalance because I made the poor decision to follow my strengths, opting out of anything that didn’t come natural to me, and when you have a hyperactive left hemisphere and choose then to squelch any right hemisphere thoughts or activities, you end up lop-sided.

Because of the way I decided to develop my brain, I was very detail oriented, athletically inclined, not afraid to say no, too afraid to say yes, and hung up on the past and anxious about the future. I had no outlet and no capacity to know I needed one. I truly grew up believing the bullshit that you are either a glass is half-full or glass is half-empty kind of person, with little credence given to the vast grey areas between or understanding of choice, that I could foster optimism, I wasn’t just born with or without it. I’d convince myself I was half-full but through various negative experiences, recognized my tendency toward the half-empty as a defense mechanism.

Because my parents got married and had children (child, me) young and inevitably got divorced, I used to carry judgment and disdain toward people who chose to engage in the same behavior. It’s none of my business. They are not my parents and although I do believe maturity will make you a better parent and there’s value in spending your twenties learning, exploring, dreaming; there’s just as much in taking on the responsibilities of a parent and doing that well. That’s just one of many examples where I see behavior repeated by someone I barely know that clearly had a caustic effect on me in my youth, and my pessimism led me toward judgment and ridicule, often sarcastic encounters, subsequent self-criticism and burned bridges. Self-fulfilling prophesy. I saw negativity or the potential for it, and I made it so. What a god damn bummer.

People who know me may attest to my kindness and loyalty, the fun side of my sense of humor and my very intense passion for things that I care about; and while I’d love to sit here and toot my own horn or give myself a break, I have to share honestly the facets of who I used to be, so I can better articulate my and other’s progress. I’m sure there are still people who’ve rubbed the old me (sometimes I call her Dani, and many people I love still call me this as she’s still apart of me, just a lesser used Danielle. Danielle 2.0) the wrong way, exhibited such repugnant and cancerous patterns that I’ve written them off or created my own invisible barriers to prevent their entry. In some instances this is wise, because those specific individuals may be hell-bent on living from their worst selves and it is not your or my responsibility to take the brunt of their bullshit and hope they’ll improve, or even fantasize our presence will do that for them, but you can choose to be optimistic, tactful in your interactions rather than defensive like I used to be, and feel compassion toward what is probably a very sad, unhealthy human being. And then there’s the cases where your/my built up walls are out of habit and keeping someone at a distance is only preventing you both from improvement, both together and apart. This is often the case with parents, family, old friends, or even co-workers. It takes a wise soul to delineate between the two. An easy way to distinguish is how you feel in their presence. Does this person bring the best or worst out of you? If it’s the worst, as some people try their damnedest to do to me, without knowing it of course; then you must wish them well and move on, painful as it may be.

Being the major work in progress I am, flawed and at times frustrated by what I don’t know or what I haven’t changed, I have to remain positive and hopeful about others and myself. The most freeing mechanism is my breath. When I feel a surge of discomfort, adversity or anxiety, whether it’s justified or in my head, instead of reacting inwardly or outwardly, I breathe. That creates space in my mind to choose my thoughts, which will then affect my emotional response, which will then be cast outward as my attitude and tone, which will then affect my interactions with the world around me. I discuss this often in Yoga, choosing the energy we bring into the room, and I’m finding the power to choose lies in just one moment and if I make the benevolent choice, the selection that is kind to me and others, that is also a self-fulfilling prophecy, compounded to an excessive level compared to the path of pessimism. The choice lies in every moment, not only in the big life decisions, but in the day-to-day. So, through the space that has been created with my breath, as simple and easy as that sounds, I’ve learned to alter my state of mind, my relative openness to the world around me. Instead of thinking before I speak, I breathe before I think, and then I think before I speak. And it’s working. It’s not finished, nor will it ever be, but it’s on the up-swing. When I encounter the disingenuous or antagonistic, it is then to deploy the parachute of optimism. I feel lighter. Negative people or circumstances just flow through, in one ear and out the other. I don’t enjoy them, nor would I choose to spend copious amounts of time or energy on them, but I choose merely not to carry them at all. My ego’s former need to put people in their place has surpassed, for the most part, and now armed with the responsibility of making my and potentially other’s days better, I’m certainly not going to let some cranky person weigh me down, choosing to see how the world is shit through their eyes, but rather looking to the kind soul next to them, who is eager and thoughtful and open to a better day. See into the light of that soul, not into the darkness of the other.

It’s easy to believe all goodness lies within our bubble and that bubble alone, and while it’s important to feel grateful for the good in your life and to surround yourself with it, feeling everything outside that box is somehow inadequate, negative or not worth your time leads down a winding path to pessimism and further self-fulfilling prophecies. Judging by the purely magnificent human beings I’ve met in the past couple years, I know the bubble theory is untrue. There is an abundance of goodness and greatness and I’d love to be privy to it all, to absorb anything and anyone I can, and hope to improve myself through expanding my circle. Having a small web of trustworthy, encouraging people will only champion a better you, but making room in your life for new, interesting people with varying perspectives and ideas will broaden you even further. Again, it’s a balancing game, and it is up to your wisdom to discern who you’ll allow into your bubble. You can at once be aware of individuals and situations that carry the potential to bring darkness while believing in your gut there is enough light in you and in the world to wash away the heavy. Allowing myself to be proved wrong keeps the progression train chugging, and simultaneously releasing any fixation with anything or anyone detrimental to that progression has led to a more authentically elated internal state.

It is very easy and extremely addictive to complain. Sure, we need to let out steam, vent our frustrations and find some solace in challenging encounters, but to the extent we take it is certainly questionable. Why, when we dislike someone, when they’ve wronged us in some way, is it then necessary to spread that negativity onto others, making others feel obligated not to like that person too? I’ve certainly been guilty of this in the past, and what’s most troubling is the degree to which I let these events stick with me, for fucking ever it seemed, not holding a grudge necessarily but definitely not letting go either. The ego needs constant validation, disagree with it and you may see tears, or fists, and the most empowering moments I’ve had is when I see my own ego at work, I watch the word-vomit spill out of my mouth and I watch as my self-fulfilling prophecies and the way I choose to nurture my own life come to fruition yet again. There’s a way to stand up for what’s right and give someone a firm, non-emotional no, a ‘present no’ as Eckhart Tolle calls it, without then perpetuating and exaggerating that event so it exists in you forever, becoming a permanent fixture in your operative state. What a colossal waste of time and energy. Imagine, if you carried and shared all the positive, enthusiastic, passionate and joyful experiences you’ve had, and during the bad days you choose to remind yourself of the good rather than letting the bleak tropical storm turn into a hurricane, choosing again optimism over pessimism, taking full responsibility for how you experience life and how you carry it on. Can you fathom how the world could open up for you? Can you embrace the unknown and be open to your and other’s possibilities? I certainly hope so.

I don’t believe optimism is an easy choice, but I do believe it’s the choice of wise, successful and genuinely happy human beings. We have this incredible facility to choose, to be hyper aware of our own existence and starkly aware of our impending death, that this knowledge can either drive us to fear, carving out even smaller boxes or circles, to a life of mediocrity and settling; or to sheer wonder, exploration, pleasure, learning, and a very heightened, engaged living. Living with presence, a relinquishing of control over the future but an omnipresent hope and exhilaration for what may come your way. When you begin to see the potential of your own mind and heart, the access to light and goodness at magnifies and expands, becoming its own self-fulfilling prophecy. Travel light, bringing emotional baggage with you around every corner only weighs you down and diminishes your light. See light, acknowledging the light in others only serves to reflect that light back to you, propagating your own goodness. Be light, making conscious decisions out of presence, making each moment better, will only make you more timeless, effervescent.

Ponder the impression you want to leave, not only on those you care deeply for, but those who’ll never know your name, only the lingering effect your energy left on them. Choose light and then brighten and spread it, no sense in hoarding, it’s not doing a number on your electric bill; if anything, your mind, body and heart will thank you, as will the countless souls left in your warm, vivacious wake. Take a look at this incredible short video created by futurist and optimist, Jason Silva. I know very little about this man, but what I see and experience leaves a lasting impression. His enthusiasm and yes, his light, are tangible and infectious, and his level of optimism only inspires me to soar to those heights, to believe in the innate goodness within myself, that same goodness that’s alive in You. I am ecstatic and energized for whatever and whoever rolls my way. I’m grateful years of skepticism and self-awareness led to my slow and gradual awakening, the truth that life is whatever the hell you can fathom it to be, my potential is only limited and thwarted by me, same for you, and whatever we believe it to be, will be.

http://vimeo.com/29938326

No one is breathing, thinking, absorbing or acting for you. You make small and large choices every single day, starting with each breath. Make the challenging decision and choose optimism. Choose light.

17 to 27...Life after 9/11

I was 17 years old, a senior in high school. Counting down the days until college. My cynical, bordering on bitter views were only about to catapult to the height of what was the Twin Towers. Coming off 8 years of nothing but a stained dress, the majority of citizens, especially my peers at the time, took living in our country majorly for granted. They felt patriotism but without the background or understanding. Elementary and middle school U.S. History and/or American Government in high school did not prepare us for the inherent, even life-threatening level of patriotism we’d soon exhibit. Every single cognitive human being about to don red, white and blue and stick a flag in their yard was about to lose their proverbial innocence, thanks to a few nut-log anti-capitalism, western living haters on September 11th, 2001. At this point, I don’t think about 9/11 on a daily basis, probably not even weekly. I do happen to glance at the clock at 9:11 frequently, but I’m too logical to consider that anything but coincidence. The fact that I always see 11:11 and 7:11 as well makes me think I’m glancing at the clock too much. I’m always reminding myself and others of presence and constantly checking the time is the antithesis of that practice. But I digress. The fact of the matter is 9/11 changed me as much as anyone else old enough to understand that day, and what I received was a crash-course on the world we live in, a violent place sporadically strewn with love and beauty.

Walking into my college English class at approximately 8:05 in the morning (I cannot remember accurately, forgive me), I noticed my liberal, rebellious teacher had the television on, and one of the big, ugly rectangular (please admit now that they were ugly, it’s still a tragedy, don’t get your panties in a bunch, but just because they were tall doesn’t mean they were some feat of modern architecture) skyscrapers were in flames. In a matter of weeks I was about to embark on my first trip to NYC, to say I was excited would of course be a vast understatement. The image on the screen confused me, my mind didn’t immediately know it was terrorism, nor did it recognize today was 9/11, clearly someone was deliberately inflicting a nationwide emergency on us, but my naive, albeit skeptical mind still couldn’t comprehend this. I sat in silence, stunned, while my idiot classmates laughed and high-fived over not having class. See why I was excited to graduate? And also why I was single? I was no picnic either, but at least I was mature enough to know to shut the hell up and not be happy about it.

Watching the second tower get drilled by the west coast bound plane solidified the terrorist theory and watching the first tower burn to the ground propelled a new fear, sadness and compassion I never knew existed. All I thought was, holy shit, all those people, what a horrible, lonely, frightening way to die. The images of firefighters running up the towers are burned (forgive the pun) in my brain and make me think if losing a specific group that day was more sad than another, it was the first responders, those displaying bravery most in our country could never equate to. We arrogantly proclaim to support the troops and often cheer our military on as we fly over countries none of us have been as they drop bombs on strangers, killing people we’ll never know and couldn’t have possibly, ever understood. That element of patriotism I’ll never comprehend or endorse, I’m sorry.

Not to be a downer on this day, but we need to face facts. Here’s how we’re worse: Religious intolerance- we’re all probably guilty of racial profiling, and instead of questioning the legitimacy of our own beliefs and what potential negative consequences strict religious allegiance can bring about, we seemingly delved deeper into our chosen organized religion (probably a denomination of Christianity) and let our discrimination and ignorance expand over Muslim people and their beliefs. Blindly following politicians- Because of the initial fear over 9/11 and our subsequent terror over anything resembling the middle-east, the majority of us swallowed the ugly war in Iraq pill wanting to believe so desperately we needed to be there. We didn’t. Nothing positive has emerged from this war; only unnecessary death, the ever-expanding deficit, astronomical costs on oil which we seem hell-bent on depending and the loss of previously respected and productive relationships with foreign countries. Afghanistan was understandable, but our current president needs to do more to get us out of there. Bin Laden was hiding in Pakistan for years and is now dead, let’s move on to stifling more legitimate threats like Iran and North Korea. Treatment of those we hold so dear- My cousin/older brother Eric (Cuzzy as we call each other) is one inspired by the tragic events inflicted on our country and decided to become a member of the Jacksonville Fire and Rescue Department. He is dedicated, loyal, never complains, just works, and their antiquated and arbitrary methods of advancement have screwed him time and time again. He’s been injured and affected physically, most likely emotionally as well, after many fires, seen unimaginably grim life-situations and disturbing levels of death. Does he talk about it, brag about it, ask the government for recognition, support, money? No. And similar to the first responders still struggling to receive their government help, Cuzzy and his beautiful, hard-working elementary school teacher wife, Angie, consistently receive cuts or the status quo and it’s bullshit. If anything this tragedy should force us to suck it up and spend the extra money on Education and those working in fields most of us could not stomach, and not just the military either. That is a cop-out. The levels of waste on the federal level I have personally witnessed would anger even the most conservative, freedom loving person. It needs to change. And I really hope it does.

Please have a rational, open enough mind to understand why I wrote what I did above. I love this country and similar to my love for myself, I expect the damn best out of it. I don’t begin to believe I understand the depth of our financial difficulties or how to solve them, nor would I want to be burdened with that responsibility, but my hope is when reminded of how we all felt the afternoon of 9/11, that same unity will re-emerge in that overgrown high school that is Washington D.C. I’m probably under the disenfranchised youth umbrella but I am informed and do choose to vote. I read, watch various news programs (not simply one channel whose non-objective analysts conveniently hold my beliefs), and engage in discussions with people smarter and wiser than I. This only exacerbates my frustration, but for some reason, within all this madness, all the exposure of our politicians being seedy little liars, I still feel tremendous hope. And here comes the positive.

Once my peers mommies and daddies sat their teenaged lazy asses down and explained how getting to watch TV all day in class was, in fact, not a good thing, quite the contrary, my classmates started to mature, slowly, and we all collaborated on some pretty gnarly patriotism. National pride can see many ugly consequences, as I’ve watched over these past 10 years, but then it was so pure, sweet even. Those not even understanding our constitution started voraciously reading it, along with other pertinent American history documents. Although it was fairly niche focused reading, 9/11 inspired it, and that’s never a bad thing.

Opposing the aforementioned, for a percentage of us, that day in September brought about our own catharsis, and therefore, a new understanding and tolerance of others. Perhaps to rebel against those acting in opposition, I led the way via my opinions and actions my Freshman year of college, arguing for religious and racial acceptance, and I was not alone. Regardless what some harbor inside, outwardly most at the very least attempt to accept everyone, knowing it is at the very core of our constitution and what typically lifts the United States above our less evolved fellow countries. Freedom of Speech is alive and well here, for better or worse, and although I’d like to squelch the constantly squawking mouths of some, I’m grateful, as a woman and human being, that I can express my opinion, no matter how outrageous, in a civilized manner.

Love. I felt much more loving after that day. I wholeheartedly admit my residence in the bitter barn throughout the majority of my teenage years. A by-product of my parents’ and family members’ divorces, combined with my inquisitive and cynical nature, a protective shell was sure to form, and it did, right with the Fuck You on my forehead (I was told I had this at around 20, so this is not me saying this, clearly I was projecting it. That was first love nonsense and nothing else). I think this common experience brought many together, some that may not have otherwise, and it led to more debate and open discussion we’ve seen since the Kennedy assassination. For me, tired of my loneliness and otherwise wuss ways of the heart, I opened myself to a non-deserving idiot and got my heart-broken, spending 3 years single and lonely. Sounds depressing, right? No, I was inspired to open myself up, I did, enjoying it for a short time, and then I was much more selective, only leading to a few other dating experiences and then meeting my hot piece of man with whom I’m currently betrothed. Not too shabby. It was slow, but 9/11 lead to 9/22, my eventual wedding date.

This is more of a journal entry on a day that inspires reflection. I’ve always been a thinker and a dreamer, and that awful day led to some nightmares, but mostly I feel it thrusted that deep “grab life by the balls” mentality and not taking anything for granted. So I don’t. I have little to no unnecessary drama, amongst family and friends. Only love, laughter and food. We may not all agree politically, or religiously, but we know the love of each other predominates anything else, and that bond is indestructible. No terrorist can touch what is so simple, primal and strong, and that is love. Americans shoved a big Fuck You up haters throats when we unified, loved not only the known, but strangers and unknown loving, liberty lobbyists as well, American dream in tact, never to be destroyed.

We all have our personal 9/11’s, we’ve experienced our own this summer, and the same epiphany emerged 10 years later. All you need is Love. And locate your balls and go for your dreams. Poetic, isn’t it? I always wanted to live in Italy and for three years, I did. Same with NYC, and after 8 years of multiple trips and visits, I parked my ass there for a few months and embarked on Yoga teacher training, a life-changing adventure full of lessons, fun times and some incredible, lasting friends. Now, while teaching Yoga throughout Chicago, I’m pursuing another dream, writing. The same perspective 9/11 instilled in us all that day has reverberating effects. I will not waste my life, sacrifice my dreams, or overlook the importance of loved ones. If those still living in fear from their horrible experience that day could only relinquish that fear and gain the lesson that has benefited me and others, this country and their personal world would be a more benevolent place. That may sound pageanty, but my personal experience with this brings some credibility, and the copious amounts of people who got on with it and didn’t look back, like my Cuzzy.

I hope things continue to progress because we certainly cannot continue to live in the mediocrity we’ve created. Change is necessary for progression and for our country to remain an example others wish to emulate. People sneak into this country for a reason, let’s work to keep that desire alive. The idea of America is alive and well. My family and friends give me reason to believe. Keep hope, and love, alive.