Week 6, Friday, November 14—Abraham Lincoln once said, “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” The glass is half empty or half full. It sometimes surprises me how negative I can be with the tools I’ve given myself—yoga, journaling walking. Even with tools, we sometimes only see the half full glass or the thorns on the rose vines. It’s crazy how negativity can one’s control life. In her book The Motion of the Ocean, Janna Cawrse Esarey decided her marriage had gone sour just because they ran out of things to talk about eighteen months into their journey across the Pacific Ocean, and her days were full of dread and worry, having made an incorrect assumption. When I was sleepless and suffering from anxiety attacks 25 years ago, I was in spiritual pain, so I know that I can easily go back to darkness and gloom. But once last year I told Paul I would be fine with dying because I’ve lived my life hard and well, and I want for nothing, but on Day 6, I was mourning the loss of the father I knew, the loss of a light in the world, as he moved into the gloom of forgetfulness, and it wasn’t until I worked on my novel a bit that I was able to clear out the negativity. What tools help us get over our losses? We need to find them to live more abundantly.
30 Perfect Days Log 5 — Living with Jung
Week 5, Friday, November 7—Finding abundance in ordinary life is not just about finding meaning and living in the moment; it’s also being authentic and in tune with who you are. C.G. Jung said it beautifully when he wrote “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” My 30-days project is largely a phenomenological exercise because I’m trying to discover the meaning things have in my experience of life. Heidegger’s Being and Time, a winding tome seeks to find the meaning of being in time, looks at our existence in the universe, our existentialism. When I rolled my yoga mat out on the hardwood floor this morning, I chanted an over-simplified “I am”—there’s nothing more profound and difficult as finding one’s true self, the center of “I am.” I still think back to the days I spent in my woodlands hermitage at Mount St. Benedictine’s as somewhat perfect days. I wrote and walked, I practiced yoga and read Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours, made use of the monastery’s hourly meditations, and sat with the nuns as they chanted in the morning. I was truly myself when I was there because no one else was around. How is being alone related to being authentic? At the end of Day 5, I was seeking answers. And that is enough.
30 Perfect Days Log 4 — Worrying is a Sin
My biggest sin is worry. When I worry, I’m trying to be in control while thinking about things in the future that are out of my control. Thinking about worry takes me out of the moment, as does looking for meaning in a day. Instead of imposing my will and making things happen, I need only put myself out there in the world and letting the universe respond. I need to think about having a meaningful day without worry for a short while, and then go about my day without thinking about it, much like how, during meditation, I watch the thoughts pass by without focusing on them. I want to love life and be unafraid. Most of my worrying is about whether I’m living life to its fullest because I don’t know how much time I have. I tend to fill my life with lots of things to make sure I’m having it all-—yesterday, it was the book on tape, yoga, a movie; today it was a play at the Hanna. I am always trying to get as much out of life as I can, before Death takes me down, and this worry that causes me to race against time and narrow the gap between now and then is caustic. Worry is an unnecessary and unhappy diversion, a way of taking me out of the moment. More on this in the book . . .
30 Perfect Days Log 3 — True Happiness
Week 3, Friday, October 24 – Yoga has taught me the truth of what Henry Morrison wrote, “True happiness, we are told, consists in getting out of one’s self; but the point is not only to get out – you must stay out; and to stay out you must have some absorbing errand.” If we look for the answers too hard, we might find them because we’re on the hunt, but if we allow things to unfold and respond to the universe, we can find meaning in all the little things that happen to us. For me, on Day 1 of my 30-Days Project, I wanted to see if I could craft a better day than I usually had just by paying attention to the meaningfulness of what happened. The moon was a crescent with two stars within its curve when I arrived in front of the yoga studio. I became part of the power generated when ten women with ujjayi breath do sun salutations to the rhythm of their breaths and chanting Indian music. During that hour, the breath and the movement of our bodies kept me in the moment. We were not in the past, which is set in stone and cannot change, or in the future, which cannot be controlled. When I focus on what’s happening right here, right now, I slow down time. I feel elemental, uncomplicated, at peace. For me, being in the moment was time with God. It was living life as a prayer. Nothing could be more perfect. I have what Morrison called a “getting out of one’s self.” I was not in my head but just was. At the end of the day, it seemed that everything about the day tied into living meaningfully and connectively but I would have to become absorbed in this errand, this project of living perfect days, and not let my intellect control the days.
30 Perfect Days Log 2 – Seeking What is True
Friday, October 17 – In The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus wrote “Seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable.” Was I embarking on a 30-day journey for the right reason—truth—or was I trying to find beautifully serene days when all I desired became possible? The project became a germinating seed in Betsy Muller’s Artist’s Way class, a response to the exercise I’d done several times before “Describe your perfect day.” I wrote, again, about getting up in the morning to write fiction in my pajamas, take a long walk, do some yoga, garden, switch to non-fiction or marketing in the afternoon, spend an hour with a glass of wine cooking up Ragu Bolognese or Quiche Lorraine, talking with my husband Paul over dinner, settling in with a good book or movie at night. Repeat the day again and again, with variations of lunch with a friend, dinner at a restaurant, having people over, to have a beautiful life. But I wondered if my perfect-day project had some relevance or if the idea of making every day perfect was a stupid idea—it would be impossible. At a Gordon Square wine bar that first day, I talked with strangers about pursuing their passions, leaving behind their responsibilities, and being more in tune with who they are. From the beginning, I knew that part of it is about enjoying the journey. I was looking for bigger answers than finding meaning in my day when I asked myself: If I string 30 perfect days together like the dandelion necklaces I wore when I was a girl, will I birth a more creative life? The more questions I asked, the more they arose, like pulling dandelions from the yard and not getting the root out. I even asked: Is it necessary to think about life’s purpose at all? Camus reminds us that desire and truth intertwine like the loops that make up dandelion necklaces. My faith told me the answers are out there, if I dare to look deep enough.