An Integrated Life

Perfect! Who, me?

Hi, my name is Lynne and I am a perfectionist.  Is this an addiction?  I don’t know, but it’s awfully persistent!  Can it be deadly?  Absolutely!  (So I say, I will overcome this.  This is so not perfect!  I’ll just stop.)  Ha!  Here’s just one more (ineffective) attempt to be perfect.

I just read an article about finding that we’ve been setting limits to what we can achieve, whether it’s success or happiness.  If we just stop limiting ourselves, we can have what we want.  But then I thought of the other end of this, setting the bar too high to even get in the game.  Perfectionists are so good at this one.  I know.

So it looks like we really need to raise the limits while lowering the bar.  That creates much more room to move around.  But wait, aren't these both standards, wherever we manage to place them!  Is this the solution?

That’s when it occurred to me that when I’m really happiest, and when I’m really doing my best work, there are no standards.  (Nor do I even know what “best” means!)  There is only absorption in the task at hand (or, as in meditation, the non-task).  This may be that situation some have called being in the “flow.”

Perfectionism requires a constant self-consciousness, always checking in to see how I am doing.  The essential point, here, is that in this “flow” state my focus is on the doing – what, where, with whom.  My focus is not on me!

What has this to do with an integrated life?  Everything, since what I've just accomplished is an integration of my self and that self's living/doing.  Worries about performance can only take place on the fractured, non-integrated plane.

Uncertainty and Faith

Uncertainty and faith seem to me to go together – maybe because it takes faith to live with uncertainty.  Faith, here, is not a matter of belief, unless it is the belief that life is meaningful whether we understand why or not.

I have enough experience and intelligence to know that nothing in life, except change, is certain.  I know this, but don’t often live from this knowledge.  I’m more apt to push such thoughts from my mind with the use of distractions.  Occasionally, I will try to find a rationale for denying this basic truth altogether.

Finding distractions is easy.  It’s actually hard to avoid them in our culture which pushes us into busyness.  Then there are movies, TV, computer games, the web – to name a few.

Every faith tradition has these distractions and rationales.  It’s one way we humans deal with the terrors of ultimate questions.  And every faith tradition also has ways of seeing beyond these distractions, since they will ultimately fail to satisfy.  But these are the more difficult teachings that, historically, few have sought, let alone attained.

This has been changing.  More and more people are wanting more and different answers.  There is good news and bad news here.  The good news is that this may indicate a shift in levels of consciousness possible for the species as a whole – a real evolutionary step that just might help us avert disaster!  The bad news would be if all this interest ends up just creating another, different set of distractions.

Here’s where the faith comes in.  If I can trust that there is meaning in the universe, whether I can understand it or not, I can approach any question (even the fate of the species) with interest and energy instead of fear and worry.

When that happens, creativity just explodes on the scene.  I’ve seen it in myself and in many people I know.  This creativity is our work.  Getting on with it is what gives me a sense of fulfillment.  And this is precisely what I’m looking for, anyway.

The Body Demands

Sorry for the long absence. I picked up a virus in December and just couldn't shake it. But the experience did remind me of the importance of this physical body, and my tendency to take it for granted. Without the body there is no life to integrate! I do know this. Over a year ago I added regular exercise on an almost daily basis, and improved my diet. I eat mostly vegan, avoid cholesterol and try for a greater variety of fruits and veggies. But I tend to expect my body to just keep on at the same old pace, year after year. And so in the last few years I have injured both shoulders and torn cartilege in my knees. I'm a slow learner.

Meditation is designed to bring one home to the present. When I meditate I am aware of my body and its various needs and complaints. But then I forget. My goal is to bring that attention to the present to everything I do. If I notice how my knees or my back hurt while gardening, I might take a break before finishing that row. If I pay attention to feeling tired and sick, I might wait a few days before putting up the Christmas tree.

My other goal is to bring that meditative awareness to my exercise routine. Sometimes I do that - I close my eyes and just feel the muscles stretch and work. I enjoy the movements more, and I feel they do more for me.

Underlying all this, of course, is a new respect and appreciation. It's taking my body seriously, as a partner in this whole enterprise. This body is miraculous and worthy of all my care and attention.

Integrating the lesson

One thing I have noticed about those periods of integration following a particularly intense lesson is that they feel confused and chaotic and I tend to want to withdraw and go on auto pilot for a while. This is when I want to work in the yard, or bake, or start a project around the house. This is when I don't remember my dreams (or want to). I tend to feel tired, a little drained, and I don't want to think too much. If I read, it's apt to be a mystery novel. Meditation becomes even more essential, but also more difficult.

Much of this is the loss of energy following a crisis which took most of what I had. But I learned much during that crisis (of my mother's near death) about my priorities, values, life and loving. I experienced the grace of eternity in the present, and that the fall from grace comes from worrying over the future.

That laboriously constructed understanding of who I am and what the world is about just underwent a significant shift. This constitutes a kind of partial death. Who I am now is not exactly who I was before, and I don't know, yet, what this new me is like. There are feelings of anxiety, sadness, fear, etc.

The wisdom of compassion reminds me to honor my exhaustion and my feelings. It is appropriate to rest. But, while resting, I also know how useful it is to pay attention. I can be fully aware of my needs right now without giving in to the desire to escape.

Living with Uncertainty

My mother has been home from the hospital for a couple of weeks, now. During the past 5 weeks I have had many opportunities to really explore my feelings and priorities around love, death and loss. And, from the up and down nature of that experience (one crisis would be resolved, we would relax, and another would come up), I became most aware of how difficult it is for me to live with uncertainty. (Is it yes, is it no, is it time to rejoice, is it time to grieve?) This is, after all, the true state of life. We just pretend otherwise because we can't handle the stress of knowing that.

I've convinced myself that my mother is not going to die for several more years, now. I've stopped jumping when the phone rings. Yet several years ago, we received a phone call from Nevada telling us my uncle (in perfect health) had been hit by a pickup while crossing the street and was killed instantly. Somehow it seemed even more unfair because there had been no warning, no one had time to prepare (including my uncle!) The truth is, possibilities abound; only impermanence is certain.

This seems an important truth. Can I accept that life is impermanent? that I am impermanent? Can I take on this uncertainty principle as a teacher?

Looking Deeper

Socrates said the unexamined life is not worth living. Certainly that examination is what uncovers the insights that can then be integrated into one's life to ultimately ease suffering, effect transformations and expand one's very being. Meditation is the best tool devised for training the mind to focus and clear enough to do this. And relationship (with others, with nature, with oneself) is the classroom.

There is no more complex relationship than that of parent and child. Ranging from richly rewarding to acutely painful (and everything in between), it influences all subsequent relationships and provides the greatest source of potential lessons.