Forgiveness Part II

So I've finally finished the forgiveness exercise. Fi-------nal------ly!
Just to bring you up to date, the forgiveness exercise is offered by spiritual adviser and empowerment coach Iyanla Vanzant as a way to deal with anger and bad self esteem and, well, mostly anger. At least that's how I viewed it.
The advice comes from Vanzant's best-selling book, Tapping the Power Within....When I wrote about it last time, I was exhausted and convinced I would be too tired to try many of the ambitious spiritual exercises she proposed. I made an exception, though, for forgiveness because--it's just been that kind of year.
So I embarked on the 7-day-long project. In the morning, I would write sentences forgiving as many as 35 different people (but often, the same people many times. We'll get to that later.) In the evening, I would write forgiveness for myself 35 times.
I'll admit to being a pretty angry person. But all that anger is wearing me down. Mostly, I just didn't want to relive all the outrage (along with the flushed face and increased heart rate) each time I thought of a particular person.
Here's how I imagined the experiment unfolding: I would write and write and write, and at some point, I would have a catharsis. I would wander into a vivid daydream of previously inaccessible memories, pause my cramping left hand over the paper and weep. Yes, yes, Mrs. Peterson (my first grade teacher) I forgive you.
Of course, reality proved to be a bit different.
At first, it was fun. I had a long list of grievances with people going back all the way to childhood. For a day or two, there was nothing more fun than dredging up the outrageous and sometimes embarrassing memories and flinging those names down on paper. Yeah, butch. You're on my list.
But by day three, I was becoming bored with some of the names. To fill out the 35 required lines, I started putting in all kinds of people--celebrities, elected officials--who I feel I have a beef with but who've never heard of me. And corporations? Are corporations allowed? Doesn't the Supreme Court think of them as people?
By day five, I dropped this as too cute and possibly not in the spirit of the exercise. I began to think of magic patterns with the numbers. I would repeat certain offenders at certain intervals, according to lucky and unlucky belief systems. By the final day, I just picked my top five. These were people who I still feel anger at more than anyone else. I repeated their forgiveness sentences seven times. Not recommended by Vanzant, but it's Biblical.
All through this, my husband was trying hard to conceal that he was sneaking looks at my list. One day he just broke down and asked me, "Am I in there?" No, of course not.
Who were the offenders? Surprisingly, by the end of the exercise I'd dropped everyone who'd done me some personal wrong. The ones who remained were all people who'd made people in my family suffer. Because I hate watching my loved ones suffer.
I never felt the expected cathartic moment. I'm not even sure I experienced forgiveness. At least not the Jesus kind of moment where you hug and cry. Here's what I did feel. "Yes, I'm thinking of you, X. I'm naming you, calling you out, reducing you to a few inky scribbles beneath my enormous hand. I'm taking the power away from you and giving it back to me."
Not exactly forgiveness. But better. And better will have to do.

The Writing Cure

I still have work to do, according to Iyanla Vanzant. Quite a lot of work.
Last week, before things got busy with the garden show and books talks and recital, I wrote about Tapping the Power Within, an inspirational book from the self-help guru and Yoruba priestess famous for her association with Oprah Winfrey a few years back.
At the time, I was overwhelmed by the number of life-improving exercises Vanzant proposed that would, hopefully, change me from a dour and bitter pessimist into a more balanced and likable person. I was so overwhelmed that I decided just to put Vanzant's book aside for a while.
I didn't want to write it off altogether, though. That would be flippant and flippancy is the hallmark of a bad attitude. And that's something we want to change, don't we?
So as things quieted down, I revisited the book, looking for at least one spiritual exercise I could be sure I'd follow through on.
There, amidst the instructions on building home altars and blessing one's head, was one that seemed to call my name.
It was in the chapter on forgiveness.
I must admit, I'm a very bad forgiver. I can remember slights from years and years ago--all the way back to elementary school. And for me, it's an easy leap from remembering to re-experiencing the feelings (those unhealthy, life-shortening feelings, along with the increased heart rate and flushed face) of outrage and anger. Like it just happened yesterday.
Recurring rage is not a good thing, I think we all can agree. Just look at that guy who flew into the IRS offices in Austin yesterday. I've been that angry (though not at the government). Recently.
Sure, I know this is very, very bad of me. It's not like I'm trying to feel rage all over again. In some recent cases, I went to great lengths to mentally forgive people who've wronged my family. But when I think of those incidents again, it all comes back and I have to try and re-forgive them. I don't know why. It's like I need the anger for my self defense or something.
So anyway, the exercise. It's simple. In the morning, you number a paper one through 35 and write, "I, (your name) forgive (selected evildoer) totally and unconditionally." In the evening, you number to 35 again only this time write, "I, ____, forgive myself totally and unconditionally. I am free to move on to wholeness and completeness."
I know. Awesome, right? My own enemies list. I wondered, as I got out the first paper, whether 35 is really enough numbers.
The words flowed effortlessly. At first, certain names cropped up again and again (that's okay, according to Vanzant.). The most recent ones were people who have wronged my family. Then I started on those I felt wronged me. These were all people who had just turned around and been rotten for no reason I could see, then or now. There are an amazing number of them, really. I have to wonder: Am I doing something that telegraphs that I'd enjoy this kind of treatment? But I guess that's an exercise for another day.
I did, eventually, run out of names. Before I reached 35 in fact, which made me feel a little less like a bitter scold.
So far, this exercise does not feel much like forgiveness. It's more like saying a Hail Mary. "I forgive X totally and unconditionally, now and at the hour of our death with liberty and justice for all."
The second half, where you forgive yourself, is harder because it's wordier. And it happens at the end of the day, when you're tired.
Last night, for example, I was happily watching a little TV before bed when I remembered:I have to write those sentences 35 times. Oh, #$%!
Because, did I mention? If you mess up and forget, you have to start the whole thing over.
Today is day three. I have to say, the morning list is not as much fun. I'm a little bored with writing those same names over and over. To liven things up, I started throwing in people I'm angry with who have no knowledge of my existence.Some whose names I don't even know. George W. Bush. Jay Leno. The CEO of Goldman Sachs. Even Vanzant.
Is this allowed? I have no idea. I'm certain they need forgiving, though. (Except Vanzant. I just put her in to be cute.)
There are four more days to go in this project. So far, I don't feel any different. But it does make me wonder. Is there some poor soul out there doing this who has my name on the list?

Garden-variety optimism

I wasn't really planning for a lesson in optimism when I took off this weekend for the Metropolitan Lawn and Garden Show. Yes, as exhibitors Mike and I would get to walk around the show for free. But it would also mean the whole weekend spent sitting in a booth for hours, not getting any chores done or any movies watched.
So when we pulled into the parking lot that first day, I'll admit, I did not think I would leave feeling more happy and optimistic unless we sold a ton of books.
We did sell some books--but not the huge numbers I expected I'd need to feel like life is looking up, Nevertheless, here I sit, feeling better about things than I have in a long time.
This is partly because of the people who stopped by and partly because of Ed Begley, Jr.

First, the people. A steady stream stopped by to see us, and they ran the gamut from potential first-time gardeners to long time growers with years of experience and many great tips. The common thread, though, was a passion for plants and an interest in living more sustainably.
Just knowing that all those people are out there really did a lot to raise my spirits. As a Kansas Citian of 25 years, I've listened to the steady drip of negativity from people who would have you believe this area is hostile to conservationists and low-carbon footprints and anything else that could be tied to so-called "Hollywood elite liberals." If you listen to this long enough, you begin to believe that you are all alone.
But the truth is, a lot of people are coming to realize that it's in their own best interest to save money on energy and food, and that these sustainable methods are going to help them do it.
Begley, who has become at least as well known as a conservationist as an actor, talked several times each day. Mike and I and our son caught three different ones, and all the chairs were filled, with a lot of people standing around the edges. Turns out plenty of people believe as I do after all.

While we're on the subject of Begley, his message was also optimistic. One of his points was that we should feel good about the progress that's been made so far on clean air and clean water, to name a couple of things. And it's true. It's easy to feel hopeless with all the bad that's happened. The lesson for me--the pessimistic perfectionist--was that you need to celebrate your victories to give yourself strength for the next thing.

Anyway, we're big fans of Begley. So much so that I nerved my introverted self up to shake hands and give him a copy of our book. Yes, yes. Just like the awkward fan geek you know I am.

The Power Within

It's been a year now, into my optimism makeover project and I don't mind admitting I am exhausted. This business of looking deeply (or sometimes shallowly) into my soul and figuring out the thing that needs fixing, the thing that will transform me from an irritating buzz kill into a popular happy person--well, sometimes it just drains me. There's no other way to put it.
Today, for example, I was going to write all about Iyanla Vanzant and the advice she gives in the book Tapping the power within: A path to self-empowerment for women. Vanzant is a famous inspirational speaker and coach who was a regular on Oprah, apparently. (Here is her web site.) Since I never watch daytime TV--except to scare myself to death by checking in on the stock market from time to time or to nauseate myself by watching the politicians go at it on CSPAN--I'd never heard of her.
But apparently she's quite famous and her books are best sellers.
When I searched the library catalog a couple of weeks ago for another advice book, I admit I was in a bit of a funny mood. It was Vanzant's title that got me hooked. The Power Within. The first thing I thought, no disrespect to Vanzant, of was this:



Good old Spongebob. He always cheers me up, I thought. So maybe it's a sign.
Which isn't a bad way to be thinking, because Ms. Vanzant does put a lot of faith in signs and visions she's had over the years.
Iyanla Vanzant is a Yoruba priestess. Yoruba originated in Africa and is a culture, a religion and a philosophy emphasizing spiritual balance. Vanzant writes that Christians often misunderstand some of the things she teaches, fearing that she's leading people into an anti-Christian philosophy, when in fact, the two are compatible.
So far, so good.
Then I started reading it and...wow. I can see how conservative Christians would be a little freaked out. An early chapter deals with prayers calling on the names of ancestors, which of course gets people all scared about ancestor worship, which Christians don't generally do. But--and she takes care to explain this also--this is not the same as worship. It's just honoring and remembering the ancestor and perhaps asking his/her spirit for a little guidance. She also gives instructions for building traditional altars in the home for the ancestors.
Later on, there's an extensive description of the traditional way to "bless your head" every morning (or at least once a week.) There are at least twelve steps to this. This is followed by instructions for five different kinds of breathing exercises. These don't seem odd to me, mainly because we've done some of them in yoga.
If you can develop the self discipline to do all that, then you also can probably do the "mirror of self" exercise where you light some candles in a darkened room in front of a mirror and concentrate on seeing your true self. I find that one terrifying.
And then there are chapters on meditation, affirmation and forgiveness. One forgiveness exercise has you writing, each morning, forgiveness 35 times (perhaps to 35 different people, perhaps not). Then in the evening, you write 35 times that you forgive yourself. Repeat seven days. If you miss a day, you have to start over.
I want to try some of these things, I really do. But it's just overwhelming, to look at it all. And I really wonder if I'm up to it, this task of rearranging my attitude. The more I look at it, the more it sounds imprisoning, not liberating. It feels like when you have a car with a little minor vibration and you bring it in and the mechanic says you need to leave it for at least a week for major overhauls to three systems. There's just too much wrong with it for it to be fixable in an afternoon.
Instead of fixing myself, I feel like I really need a day just to say I'm okay, really, and to learn to stop feeling so guilty over my lack of financial contribution to our family. But...wait...there is actually an exercise on self acceptance.
So okay, Iyanla. It's back on. Maybe, though, I'll just do your self-help exercises one at a time.

Now I Lay Me...

I was thinking today, as I looked at our heating bill, about something that came up in yoga class a while back. Our instructor was telling us about the bed of nails she got for Christmas.
Let me repeat that. The bed of nails she got for Christmas.
Now, a bed of nails brings a picture to my mind and it is not a picture of blissed-out serenity. The thing I think of, when you say "bed of nails," involves a gleaming mat of spikes, a crowd gathered around and a nervous participant drawn from the audience. Here's an example of what I mean:




(Enrique, I applaud your bravery.)
So it's a little hard to imagine anyone tearing open the wrapper. "Oh, gosh, what could it be? It is! It is! The bed of nails I wanted!"
But apparently the bed of nails in question is the newest thing out there in alternative medicine circles to improve circulation, meditation and help with muscle pain. It's also supposed to help with stress, though that seems a little counter intuitive because you're lying on a bed of nails!
Well, actually, you're not. I looked it up and the modern bed of nails, which goes by the name of Shakti mat, or acupressure spike mat (not acupuncture. No one is supposed to be punctured.) doesn't have any metal nails at all. Instead there are clusters of small plastic spikes arranged in a pattern that is supposed to help the body release endorphins. The back has a design that means something in Sanskrit. (Here's a web site.)
The idea is that at first, you will be uncomfortable, but eventually, you will relax, feel tingly and arise with improvements in those sore muscles you got from running, or in circulation or in those reflexology points on your feet that are supposed to affect every organ of the body. And it's designer says it can help increase happiness. (Go here, to read interview. Here's more from Preventative Health Journal.)
So I must admit I am curious. If hundreds of hard plastic pointy things digging into my back don't make me happy, then I'll bet they'd at least distract me from a few things that have been on my mind. (Like that heating bill. Seriously, when just about every idle daydream ends with me doing kung fu, something's gotta change.)
But alas. The price on line for a mat is near $70--definitely out of my price range.
For now, normal yoga will have to do.

Dream Big

It finally happened.
My glasses broke Sunday.
While this isn't exactly life-changing news--compared with what's going on in Congress and even the Grammys--it's a big deal to me.
You see, I've been dreaming my glasses would break for weeks and weeks. To the point that it was becoming a dream genre, as in "Oh, the glasses dream again."
The glasses were crushed, appropriately enough, by the Kansas City Star. (Joke alert. We still have a sense of humor, I hope.) That is, by the Star dropping on them unexpectedly from the heavens. I guess Mike didn't see them before he put the paper down. It was just an accident. A symbolic, metaphorical accident.
And it got me thinking: What other dreams have I been having that might come true?
I have a lot of dreams. They are almost uniformly bad and I can remember most of them. Many come with screaming in the middle of the night. My daughter and her friend have a running joke with the punchline, "Die, bitch," because that's what their tender elementary school ears heard me yell one night a few years ago.
So if these dreams really have the potential to come true, here's what I might expect my future to hold:
1.At some point, I will be forced to crash land a commercial jet full of passengers. In the ocean.
2.I will take a long, grueling journey over one or more polar ice caps taking at least six different modes of transportation, including one where you ride on the tops of trains.
3.Doctors will tell me I have to have groundbreaking, never-before-tried surgery to correct the alignment of my head, which is skewed horribly off center.
4.I will go outside one day and look up to see an amazing assortment of flying machines from aliens, or the US military. When I try to call someone about it, I will be frustrated because the line will be taken over by a nonstop robo call.
5.I will get to sleep inside a giant taco.
Notice the college exam dream is not in there. I quit having it after going back to school for my music composition degree--a cure I heartily recommend to all.

As to the glasses. They cost $360 three years ago at Walmart (I popped extra for the lenses that tint in sunlight). I was racked with guilt when I bought them, because it wasn't totally necessary. I just grew to hate the pair that was covered by insurance, and wanted to change. Now, it seems like a lifesaver to have this backup pair, since we're no longer covered for eyewear.
I've already bent them back a bit and hope the stem can be glued. Woo-hoo, optimism!