mindfulness

Alive

Deb Brock Discovery, Opportunity, Spiritual , , , , , , , , , ,

“I will not let you die”.  This is what my inner voice said to me this morning, sweating like an ox in hot yoga.  I was holding the tree pose facing the mirrored wall noticing how curly my hair was in full body sweat when I heard the words.  It isn’t important for me to state why (or how) I was dying.  I knew and so immediately understood the significance of the declaration.  So real the personal battle I didn’t even try to divert my thoughts to alternate queries like “who of my clients need I be strong for today?”  I knew I was speaking with intention, directly to myself.  As I held the sweating pose I dared eye contact, trusting the instructor’s direction to breathe only my own pace, and found myself appreciative that I looked back and willed breath and life.

I stood beside myself this morning and am glad for it.

~DocBrock

Regret: Wasted Energy

Deb Brock Opportunity , , , , , , , , , ,

August 12, 2013 – Regret: Wasted Energy

She asked me “why do I not move forward?”  She was dealing with her efforts to recreate her profession and had just noted that when she thinks of opportunity missed she feels a pang of panic.  So much energy is wasted on those darn “what if’s and if only’s”, I said.  She rolled her eyes knowing where I was heading her.

Often when we find ourselves stuck, unable to move forward, it is because our energy is being sucked up by regrets.   Regret is a poison in the guise of a nagging panic couched in judgments that echo “if only I had…” Regret, of course, can be only about the past.  We can’t regret what might come our way.  We can only regret what has passed (that we lost).  There is nothing that sucks up our energy like regret. Dwelling on “what if” and “if only” keeps us in the past.  Energy that loops on the past is energy wasted because it is incapable of moving us forward.

The only cure for regret is grief, be it large or small.  Grief that says “I am sorry”, in recognition of lost opportunity or action, will unbind us from the past and invite us to breathe “this is what I can do now”.   Nice!

~ DocBrock

Grandma’s dress

Deb Brock Connection, Opportunity , , , ,

July 31, 1013 – Grandma’s dress

Green! Now that’s a real summer green, I thought. Kind of turtle green. Hmmm, not the typical contemporary mix of hues, just a real solid, mid to dark green. It was a print but I didn’t take notice of the print, just the color and the simplicity of the pattern which had a vague familiarity for me. Somehow the simple green cotton summer dress just looked “real”. I suspected it was a re-sale piece, “vintage” as the thrift stores now advertise. Or, perhaps, I bet it was home made, but if so, certainly from an old pattern. I was only observing it from the back, since the young woman was standing in front of me in line at Caribou just minutes ago. The woman carried a well worn over one shoulder sling backpack. I noted several highlighters in a line in one of the external pockets. There was a sewed on decal with wording that looked like German but I wasn’t sure. Immediately I wondered if or not the back pack sling was really an old one, or just created age new travel gear. I mused on the juxtaposition of the dress and back pack sling.

Once the young woman placed her order she stepped to the side and I stepped forward and greeted Jenny, one of my long time enjoyed barristers. Jenny knows my never changing order so she just took my cup and in a brief exchange Jenny and I reported our individual good day accounts. I then turned my head to the left and smiled at the young woman in green, and as I always do when I enjoy a flash of beauty in feminine form, I told her so. “I really like your dress”, I said. She smiled in a rather confident yet private manner and said “thank you”. Keeping eye contact in an ever so light affection, I kind of hummed, smiled and again said: “very nice.” Instantly, generational flow melted the space between us as she said “It was my grandma’s”.

Within the breath she said “it was my grandma’s” time slowed and I could smell country air, fresh peach pies, and hear the sound of screen doors not quite slamming, thudding, or banging, just bouncing. “Of course”, I thought, “of course, your grandma’s”. “Oh, how delightful” I said. Then all l I could do was nod my head and smile and repeat the words, “nice, very nice”.

Jenny handed me my espresso, I gave a hearty thanks and good wish for the day and left Caribou. Even as I got into my car I was wishing to return and visit with the woman wearing her grandmother’s green dress. I really wanted to get to know her and her grandma, but, I was en-route to my office and as we all know, you have to get to the office. Silly me, I should have stayed to visit. I bet her Grandma would have.

~ DocBrock