Aligning Inspiration and Action

With every inspiration comes the energy to act. This fact has taken me years to realize. How often have I gotten an idea and tucked it away for later because it just wasn’t the right time—to eat better, stop smoking, call that old friend, write down the idea, etc.?

However, when I don’t act on inspiration it becomes a subtle drain on my energy. I try to hold the good idea for later, or I actively push it away because the action seems too hard or too scary, which drains energy away from everything else that I’m doing.

What I’m learning is acting on the inspiration as soon as possible, which turns out to be so much easier! Riding that wave of momentum is a joy in itself and leads to the next action. When I act on an intuitive thought, often the person is available when I call and we don’t play phone tag, or the perfect person is there to receive my idea, or a book I’ve read and want to pass along lands in the right hands.

These micro moments when I listen, acknowledge, then act keep me in alignment with the source of wisdom within myself and the world.

And because I have so much experience hearing that wisdom and guidance but NOT heeding it, I know the cost of the gap between what I want to do and what I’m actually doing. That gap is where addiction, distraction, and old characteristics that no longer serve me get a toehold and take root. Acting on inspiration caulks those cracks and helps me move forward.

It’s not mine to determine the pace of movement or even the outcome. It’s my joy to receive inspiration and to take a step in that direction, over and over again.

Wishing you all the best for a bright, aligned New Year.

Wise Self Warnings

Dear JoAnn,

I know you’re having food thoughts, but before you act on them, I’d like you to read this letter all the way through. It’s from your wiser, experienced self.

You are a food addict, so it’s quite natural you want to eat. That’s what you do when things are even a little bit out of the ordinary or uncomfortable. Without going into your history, or even the science, let me say why it’s better to make no exceptions, just for now.

Even one bite beyond what you’ve committed and weighed is dangerous, and I don’t use that word lightly. Any substitution or addition has always led to sugar and flour, sometimes in a few days, sometimes the same day. But the exception never serves your body or your highest self.

And when you get on the sugar train, there’s no predicting when you’ll get off.  So as long as you’re within your Bright Lines, I urge you to do whatever it takes to stay there, just for today. Otherwise, you’ll eat junk that might taste good at first but becomes like sawdust you mechanically chew and swallow, which is a far cry from the delight you wanted.

As you continue to eat sugar, you’re like a robot seeking more, spending too much money and time looking for the perfect item to meet a need or desire you haven’t taken the time to get clear about.

Trouble is, no food can meet that need because the desire is deeper than food will ever address. Those intangible needs for love, acceptance, joy and connection cannot be met by material items. Ever. The problem is, because you’re a sugar addict, there is never and will never be satiation in your body after eating sugar or flour. There will only be more fat stored, more sluggish energy, more foggy thinking, a dampening of your spirit, and insatiable appetite.

Here's what I wish for you: detach and observe these food thoughts and replace them with fond memories of beauty, connections, or contentment.  Take them as information that you DO have a need, and then spend a moment figuring out what it truly is.

Laugh at the indulger who always has a clever argument but never tells the truth.

And make contact with someone—through the phone, on a walk, or online. Be open to all the ways the hard work of recovery can support your happiness and freedom, and watch thin happen on its own.

With much love and care, 

your Highest Self.

Finding Wonder in the Ditch

In the work I do with people addicted to sugar and flour, we have a phrase to describe any time we’re so off our plan it feels hopeless: we’re “in the ditch.”

This path of freedom from addiction has rumble strips to let me know when I’m off course. If I do not heed those warnings, I end up in oncoming traffic or in the ditch.  If I listen to the slight rumbles of discontent daily, I can then make a small adjustment to come more safely into the middle of this broad highway.  Those adjustments usually mean tightening up the habits that keep me safe, such as meditating, journaling, talking to others, offering my attention and love to people, etc.

Some days, this work of noticing and adjusting feels like a burden. Why do I have to keep moving forward, growing, reaching out in order to maintain neutrality around all the foods that I cannot moderate successfully? It doesn’t feel fair.

Anyone who has moved through an addiction knows the humbling truth that we’re always just a foot away from the ditch. What most who are in the ditch don’t realize, though, is that we are also always just a foot away from the lane of recovery.  I just can’t get there by myself.

Self-pity, a go-to state of mine that never ends well, can blind me to the small moments of delight that keep me aligned with a life of no sugar and no flour.  The tonic for self-pity, I’ve learned, is wonder.  What can I find astonishing today? To seek wonder requires a level of attention to the external world, and a level of attentiveness to my internal guidance. When I’m really listening, I hear the invitation to walk down a different block on my way to the little free libraries that pepper this neighborhood. Sure enough, I find exactly the book I didn’t know I needed.

Diane Ackerman writes “Wonder is the heaviest element in the periodic table of the heart. Even a tiny piece of it can stop time.”  Stopping time is essential during a spiral into negativity that fuels more eating, shopping, isolating, etc.  I may not be able to reverse the momentum immediately and head straight to delight, but if I can stop the negative momentum by experiencing a tiny bit of wonder, I have a chance to avoid the ditch.  Assistance comes through beauty, conversation, or a small distracting chore—enough to help me not give into the old neural pathway that tells me this time it will be different—I could eat/drink/buy just one. Wonder fills in the hole I used to put my addictive habits and substances.

Help me seek to be amazed by the person across from me and by my own responses to the natural and urban world.

The Universe Does Not Support Addiction

While my addictions contributed to not having children, marrying very late in life, and never living anywhere longer than 7 years,  I've  always thought my work--the portion of my life that developed smoothly, with what I have called divine guidance—was exempt from addiction’s effects. Numerous times I’ve been nudged to inquire into a new job, leave one that was quite satisfying, and stretch into the next invitation to grow and serve so that I'm able to make a living doing what I love with all of who I am.

But this weekend someone asked me if I’d ever called myself a workaholic, and I've been thinking of addiction's role in that arena. too. Since I started a new full-time remote job January 1st, I haven’t taken an official day off outside of two different weeks of vacation that were very structured and mostly about service.  I can’t seem to claim a regular day (or two) each week where I unplug, listen to my own desires, and follow them wherever they lead. I suspect not taking off even one day a week is the sign of a workaholic.

Has my good enough but not remarkable career path been the result of an addictive relationship to work? These thoughts may seem harsh to those who know me, and many will want to reassure me that I have been successful and helpful to others. But I’m talking about something more subtle, what Mark Muldoon labels ambient addiction, those addictions that are actually sanctioned and rewarded by society, yet cover up our un-owned anxieties.  To name and face these quiet anxieties, such as my need to be viewed as a success, is to truly “knock on the door of the Holy."

I want to lean into the emptiness of one unscheduled day each week and trust my inner being to lead me into realms I’ve not explored or even imagined.  Ambient addiction keeps me hanging at the threshold of deeper joy, one foot in a familiar world even as I glimpse the possibility of living daily in the realm of the sacred.  Since I've lived through addiction to cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, sugar, flour, and shopping, I’m now willing to look at my addiction to work and to an identity forged through my career in order to see what new freedoms might be awaiting.

Reluctant Beginner’s Mind

There’s a concept called “beginner’s mind” that asks you to start fresh with a topic, activity, relationship, or skill so that you are more open to possibilities. Beginners are more teachable than experts, typically, and certainly more open to instruction than know-it-alls.

I’ve been golfing for four years, a pittance compared to my husband’s 49 years, or the 30 years’ experience of one of the women I met this morning. While I’ve taken lessons and golfed a bit each of the past four summers, Minnesota’s season is brief, I don’t get out every single week, and I have a limited reservoir of athletic skill to draw upon.

Today I participated for the first time in a Ladies 9 Hole League, where I had to keep score, keep track of my pink ball, and carry my clubs. The whole experience would have gone better had I adapted beginner’s mind, laughed at my errors, and savored my success. 

My attitude today did not help me. I hate being the worst in a group. I’m unused to coming in last, not because I’m gifted but because I’ve engineered my life to avoid doing anything where I might not excel.  Disappointment in my performance only added to the pressure the next time I grabbed a club.  I forgot to get curious about my feelings and invite the inner critic to step aside so I could have a modicum of fun. More than once today I fought off tears of frustration and had to consciously re-routed shame and hopelessness into appreciation of sunshine and the kindness of my companions. Even the one hole where I made par I translated into a fluke rather than anything earned.

In theory, I’m grateful to be a new golfer because I believe it’s important to displace oneself regularly--to learn a new skill, to be the newcomer in a social setting, to follow rather than lead, or lead rather than follow.

Discomfort is often the launching pad for personal growth. The part of me that would rather already know than be in the midst of learning needs to step aside, as the curious, humble part comes out to play. I'm sure I'll get another opportunity soon.

A Truly Happy Mothers Day from a Non-Mother

I’m feeling lighter than I ever have on a Mother’s Day. My own mother has been dead for 18 years, and ours was a complicated relationship, yet today I am focused on her good qualities, such as passion, spunk, loyalty and generosity.  I notice them in myself, in my sister, and in my husband. Who knew he shared so many of her traits?

Not being a mother has caused heartache for a long time, the way absence creates a pain that’s not something to touch or tend, but cloudy, murky, and a little squishy.  (While I am a stepmother, those young men were pretty much raised by the time I came on the scene. I’m happy to be in their lives, but nobody celebrates me as their mother--step, bonus, or otherwise.)Today I’m  noticing that I’m not so different from all the women who are mothers. 

To what do I contribute this newfound neutrality on this very charged day? I’ve been doing a lot of parts work via internal family systems, where I identify the various ages within myself that call for my attention when they think danger is near.  Their warnings typically manifest as eating when not hungry, shopping to fill time, or falling into a techno-hole and emerging 90 minutes later stiff and dazed.

Parts work and meditation help me catch the impulse to distract, hide, or fix something, so I have a chance to be curious about the information the little part of me wants to share. If I can pause, I’ll find out what the real hunger is and actually meet it with rest, pleasure, or connection. 

I’ve been plugging away at this for a year with the help of a master teacher and a group of companions also practicing this inner dialogue.  And today, perhaps for the first time, I’m feeling the effects of this subtle healing.  Because I AM a mother to these little JoAnns, and by imagining them sitting on my lap, snuggling in for a hug, and listening to what they’re feeling, I’m reparenting and replenishing, forgiving and moving forward. 

And that calls for a celebration, no matter what the day is.

What Filter Are You Using?

Here’s a fun rainy day activity. Pick a random object. Imagine it is your recovery, your marriage, something that matters to you.  Describe it and answer these questions.

I picked a silver tea strainer used to catch the loose leaves as each individual cup is poured from the teapot.

How does this tea strainer represent my recovery? Because I’m no longer in active addiction, my life is richer, more robust, like a flavorful Earl Grey tea in an antique china teapot. The strainer, my recovery, catches what’s unnecessary, and allows me to give myself to all the cups in my life in as pure and delicious a form as possible: relationships, work, creative endeavors and fun.

What would I like to say to it?

Thank you for being the perfect size, functional and beautiful. Your holes allow nourishment to come to me and keep harm at bay. Thanks for being ordinary and unique.

What would I be careful not to say to this object?

You’re ugly, not sexy enough, not big enough, why aren’t you a pocketknife? Where did you come from? Can I return you? What if I don’t even like tea?

What does the object want to say to me?

Easy does it. Tea is only good when it has steeped. Be sure to be patient and do not fear hot water; that’s what releases the flavor. Be happy with simple things that don’t require much money, time, or preparation. Remember that a cup of tea is enjoyed most when all you’re doing is drinking a cup of tea. No harm being busy but let a pause for tea slow you down.

(I noticed the addict in me now wants to collect tea strainers, wonders if I have one at home, and wants to keep this one. I am learning to love the part of me that expects creature comforts at all times, and that really does want a cup of tea right now.)

Do you have a filter that actively screens the unneeded from your life?

Leaning into the Light: Embracing Emptiness to Make Room for Joy

Leaning into the Light: Embracing Emptiness to Make Room for Joy: I’m currently happier than I’ve ever been. I have a new job, my addictions are not running the show, and I’m making friends at levels I ...

Embracing Emptiness to Make Room for Joy

I’m currently happier than I’ve ever been. I have a new job, my addictions are not running the show, and I’m making friends at levels I haven’t since I moved to Delphi when I was eight. I’ve always been a fairly happy person, but this joyous state goes deeper and is not dependent on external events.  It’s rooted in the belief that everything is working out, even things that appear to be challenges, and confirming signs of this truth flood my days.

What’s allowing so much joy to seep into my consciousness?

 I think it’s the space that’s been created by not packing my calendar, not filling my belly to overstuffed, and doubling my time in meditation.  These acts have allowed a spaciousness to form that’s inviting.

Oddly, I’ve become way more productive by doing less. I now write for 30 minutes first thing in the morning, and that’s allowed me to complete tasks as well as tap into inchoate creative energies before the list for the day gets going in my brain. It also frees me from the nagging sense of disappointment I feel every day I don’t write, because writing is my heart’s desire and what’s next for my personal, creative, and spiritual growth. I’m getting confirmation that what I offer is helpful and clear, and while I’d like my writing to be dense, mystical and astonishing in its vocabulary and syntax, that’s just not the kind of writer I am. Rather than wait until I become that writer, I’m allowing what I do know and the way I do put it to come forward daily.

Sitting with emptiness means accepting things as they are, without trying to fix, change,  or make it more comfortable or familiar. Every step in life is a new one if I’m paying attention, but if I’m a hair away from fully awake, ordinary tasks can feel very routine and dull. The difference, an inch perhaps, changes my world. Listening to the deepest desires of my inner being requires enough stillness each day so I discern that voice and not the ego’s long list of “shoulds” that would “improve” me.

Today, I’m on a course of exploration rather than self-improvement, and the difference is a lightness in my day. 

So here’s what I recommend: Look at your calendar and see where you can schedule in some unscheduled time. No irony intended. And look at your menu and see where you could eat less and explore feeling emptier. (Lent for Christians is the season to sit with that emptiness and see that it’s not deprivation but discipline, which turns out to be the path to freedom.)  And look at your surroundings and see if you’d like less input, so you can be still with your interior wisdom for a few minutes each day.

I suspect you’ll soon be experiencing more joy than you’re used to, and that’s a new, more interesting situation to get used to, isn’t it?

Learning Requires Love

I’m in a new job coaching people who are struggling with and conquering food addiction. Many resist that label, which is fine with me, as long as they acknowledge the experience of feeling crummy once certain kinds of foods are in their bodies and yet reaching for them again and again.  Others embrace the word addict because it explains a lifelong struggle, and, once acknowledged, provides a clear answer for freedom—steer clear of those substances that are addictive, namely flour and sugar.

While I have embraced the notion of myself as an addict for well over a decade, the most recent old narrative I’ve had to discard is that I’m technologically challenged. Working remotely for an online company requires a bunch of new apps and video conferencing .And I’m doing it!  I may not be the fastest learner, but I’m capable and enjoying these virtual connections-- the meet and greets with other members of the team, the department meetings with pictures of all of us in front of me, the poignant calls recorded for others to hear.

I woke up this morning and told Brian I was just so happy. Sure it’s 28 below zero, sure I didn’t leave the house yesterday, sure I forgot again to lead the centering exercise before beginning the coaching call. But I’m in a loving, forgiving, supportive community, which is the safest container in which to learn.

What are you ready to learn if given the right context and a warm invitation?

The Tenderness of Transition

I just left a job I loved for 10 ½ years, at a company I admire and respect, the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation.  My work--leading spirituality groups and meeting individually with people--was fun, helpful and appreciated. So why leave?

 The pattern of my last five jobs has been 1) I'm content and competent where I am  2) the Universe taps me on the shoulder and points to something new 3) my innermost self feels drawn to apply 4) I get the job. This time,  I read an email,  drafted a response, applied, went through six assessments, two interviews, and am now a Coach and Program Delivery Associate for Bright Line Eating Solutions, an online company to help people lose weight and keep it off, founded by the brilliant  and lovable Susan Peirce Thompson.

I’ve moved from working with people recovering from addictions to alcohol and other drugs to those recovering from food addiction, albeit in varying degrees. And just as my own recovery was reinforced by working for a decade in the field, today I find myself in the middle of a community I’ve been a member of for two years, with an unprecedented level of support to work on my earliest addiction.

Getting “sober” with sugar is more challenging for me than was letting go of alcohol and other drugs because eating was the earliest way I learned to soothe myself.  And also because we live in a culture saturated with cues for bad food choices as well as free samples in many workrooms and offices.

Once again I’m learning new systems, getting to know new colleagues, and operating on a much bigger platform than ever before. The course I coach has over 3,000 registered, and while not every one of them will listen to every coaching call, a good number will.  Once again I get the chance to recognize I’m not going to do this perfectly, laugh at my mistakes, and remain teachable from all who cross my path.  I also know enough to double-up on those actions that nourish me physically and spiritually: phone calls, hot yoga, deep breaths, mindful cups of tea, more meetings, more meditation.

Life is a series of transitions. Right now I’m in a BIG one, and once again, I’m invited to deepen my connection to Source so I can hear guidance, have a better sense of timing, and remain calm. I’m grateful for this new opportunity, which builds, as all of our next steps do, on everything I’ve ever learned. Nothing is wasted. Everything is gift.