Being Peace, Being Happy = Well-Being

When I think of my own happiness, I’ve learned to accept it as a state of mind. For years my pattern was rushing to one thing, gulping up the moment, then leaping toward the next chapter of doing. Happiness was something that I was striving toward, but never quite fully attaining it.

It takes a creative and reframing mindset to see happiness. I’ve made a good living being creative--as a trainer, writer, and educator. Working in organizations and classrooms with limited resources and big “happiness” expectations takes innovative steps. Imagination has always been my strongest asset. Happiness requires imagination.

As a child, I stayed in the clouds, zoned-out into imaginative places and relationships I didn’t have. While in this make believe state, I played in my mental world of dancers and musicians, ran through meadows, and landed in a game or two of tag. The funny thing is these daydreams were not out of reach. I just stayed in my room or someplace else in the house, and didn’t step outside my front door to experience what I imagined. Happiness was playing in the thought clouds.

Lately, I’m noticing unimaginative ways several friends and family members are going about the task of happiness. In fact, there is a state of unhappiness and struggle with inner peace. I hear stories like, “He’s not here with me, so I’m not happy.” Other talk goes, “Don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my Daddy,” disguised as a belief that another person has total power over you. In these patterns I see one thing for sure--that there is misery and suffering submerging in a deep well of despair.

It took me three decades to understand that I was responsible for my own happiness. An extra decade flew by when “I got it” that I was the architect for much of my stress. In Buddhism, stressful feelings are referred to as suffering. Early in my practice, the word “suffering” made me very uncomfortable because it just felt too depressing. Did acknowledging suffering mean sitting in a state of depression as a part of a mindful meditation practice? No, it didn’t. But I did have to look deeply at the word suffering and adjust how I thought about it.

I read an article in an old issue of the Buddhist publication, Mindfulness Bell, that talked about shifting the feelings of suffering into a way of well-being. I really liked that word combination, well-being. The idea of practicing well-being was something I could easily sign up for! What I needed was a tangible way to see this “well-being” happen in my life.

What I learned reading another article in Mindfulness Bell was the notion that we all carry seeds within us, and these seeds are watered daily by our mindsets. If my mindset grabs the garden hose that pours life giving appreciations to every encounter with another person, take nothing for granted, and enjoying my next breath, then I feel at peace. I water the seeds of peace. I grow. Experiencing peace happens when there is harmony between your inner and outer landscapes. Expectations of others or attachments to things, people, and ideas are released, clearing space to make room for the present moment as the most important and precious experience. It’s the ability to notice and see the reality of right now. This is well-being.

There are times where I water my seeds with buckets of worry and fear. Polluted liquids overrun my mind and leave a heavy heart, fatigue, and detachment crud all over my seeds. I make up scary stories that frighten my tongue to say mean-spirited things to myself and others. It’s a spiraling down into a deep well of dark forever. Pulling out of that hole takes conscious work.

One remedy is to reach for my canvas of peaceful visual images.

For years, I’ve worked with collage as a way to express a visual feeling of tranquility and harmony in my life. To build a collage, select a blank piece of canvas and grab a glue stick. Then there’s the hunt for just right magazines with lots of pictures. I capture armfuls of old National Geographic, O Magazine, Boho, Essence, Fast Company, Shambhala, and Yoga Journal which offer pictures that speak 1,000 words. First I start by selecting an image of how I see myself. A bronze toned face with shoulder length locks is a picture that appears somewhere on my canvas. Ocean tides, a hiking path among very old trees, and journals with fine writing pens typically splatter on the emerging landscape. Candles lit sparingly and an emblem of stillness typically top off foodie choices of fresh vegetables and exotic fruits. The kaleidoscope of images help me focus on what is possible.

My collage acts as a visual writing prompt for me to take my fountain pen and show and tell what I see on a blank page. Sensations, smells, tastes, and sounds come alive as my imagination seeks and finds the right words the canvas speaks. Possibilities are revealed. The words show me how to live the imagined. This is an act of transformation.

There is an adage attributed to the Buddha that goes:

The thought manifests as the word.

The word manifests as the deed.

The deed develops into habit.

And the habit hardens into character.

So watch the thought and its ways with care.

And let it spring from love,

born out of concern for all beings.

I’m watering seeds of love, happiness, and peace, in perfect and imperfect ways, through my thoughts, words, and actions. It is a journey to well-being.


In practicing peace and happiness,


Yvette

Narratives as an Act of Personal and Social Change

Words inspire us. We collect quotes placed on refrigerator magnets, stuff one-liners into fortune cookies, and clip words of wisdom out of the latest issue of O Magazine. There is a powerful internal shift we feel when that one honest word, connects with other “just right” nouns and verbs, speaks our raw truth. Facing that moment of truth can move us to take action--as short steps and sustainable commitments.

While perusing through the spring 2010 issue of YES! Magazine, I was delighted to see this quarter feature the changing complexion of diversity and racial identity. Consulting and teaching diversity is part of my business and I grapple with these issues often. I was particularly struck by Faith Adiele’s article, My Life in Black and White: Why Memoir is the Ultimate Multicultural Act, where she says “What I love about memoir is that it democratizes storytelling. Official history is penned by power brokers, but the real stories are lived on the ground by ordinary folks.” Adiele’s story centers on her racial and cultural identity as a Nigerian and Nordic mixed race woman. Her story speaks to the experience of the increasing numbers of a racially and culturally mixed generation, people who are no longer willing to accept the stale views on identity from our mainstream society. Adiele’s personal story tells a larger narrative of social justice. I like the notion of ordinary folk telling about their lives, and making a difference in the world.

Letters, songs, speeches, and poems have been avenues for many ordinary people to express their feelings on personal and political viewpoints. How we’ve come to know our collective history has been shaped and reported by these writing outlets. Today, personal essay, memoir, and blogging can be added to a long list of ways we share our lived stories and demand change.

For years I’ve written music, poems, and now personal essays as a way to make meaning out of my experiences. Even the smallest life episode is almost always linked to a larger world view for social justice. Claiming my voice as a young woman athlete was one of them. Throwing the shot put in junior and senior high school was my chosen track and field sport. I lifted weights with the boys in their locker room (which was unheard of in those days), and kept a disciplined focus on practicing my form and building strength. For two years I was undefeated in competitions. Verbal assaults on my femininity and sexual orientation was a regular taunt by student spectators and some parents. In my own private space, writing and telling my fictional stories of romance, lust, and heroinism affirmed my womanliness and courage.

Coming of age in the 70s and early 80s is what I call the “raggedy application” of civil rights laws. As an African American woman, doors were cracked open for opportunities in entry level white collar work. I struggled with the ramifications of sexual harassment, as well as gender and racial prejudicial practices in the workplace by managers who “got it” and just didn’t want to “do it.” I made up girl power songs that were inspiring little mantras to help boost my self-esteem and get up the nerve to challenge abusive management practices. Inspirational words and phrases transcended my pain into courage--to step up and speak out to injustices.

Writing and speaking what was on my mind became a short step toward my own healing and an act of social change leadership. In Mary Pipher’s book, Writing to Change the World, she says, “All writing to effect change need not be great literature.” I agree. Writing for publishing is just one avenue for social change. Another kind of social change writing comes from the heart, like when someone pens a story that breaks a deep silence that frees them from suffering.

So what’s the story you hold so deeply that feels like it’s only yours? Consider the possibility that your small, seemingly personal nugget of truth, is part of a larger narrative that will change the life of others in ways you’ve never imagined. You’ll never know until you commit to write it and share it, even with just one person.

Send me your thoughts--and share your stories!

Be Well,

Yvette

The Emerging Intentions of Transformative Narratives

Greetings Friends,

Welcome to my first entry on my transformative narratives blog! I’ve contemplated starting a blog for a long time. I then got tangled up in the notion of not being able to do it on a regular basis, who would read it, would I run out of things to say, etcetera, etcetera! There’s nothing like just taking the plunge and seeing what happens!

What are transformative narratives? Simply put, transformative narratives 1) emerge from real and imagined visual, written, and spoken stories, that 2) become material to use for self-awareness, insight, and visioning, and 3) crystallize into deliberate actions for change. I’ve been using this method of transformative narratives my whole life--I just didn’t have a name or foundation for what I was doing. It was sort of journaling, sort of poem making or storytelling, and it was definitely thoughts that became words which motivated me to take action. Thanks for my experience in graduate school at Goddard College’s transformative language arts program, I studied deeply a variety of known bodies of work that supported my use of narratives.

In the early 1980s, I took a Franklin Planner class where part of the course entailed writing down goals and integrating them in my daily, weekly, and monthly calendars. This was a logical and mechanical process. Because my artist brain didn’t work so linear, I did more than write a goal sentence. My goal became a little story. In order for me to experience the goal, I stepped into my imagination and created a fictionalized story about me living and breathing that goal. It was so real, I could smell, taste, and touch it. Writing that visual image made such a difference. Having written the story, I could release it and be it.

Releasing a good story is like eating a fine meal at one of the Four Seasons five star restaurants. In the moment, each bite is delicious and savoring. Afterwards, your body digests it and moves on. The same goes with writing down your detailed narrative. You digest it and move on.

Not long after releasing your story, a magic begins to happen. People come forward to help manifest your story. Opportunities open up. Old habits are replaced by new and affirming practices. You begin anew.

As a mindfulness practitioner in the Thich Nhat Hanh tradition, we have a process call beginning anew. It’s a way to press the “reset” button by looking deeply into ourselves, clearing our minds, and releasing any attachment energy we may have mired in certain views, people, or things. This process allows us to start with an earnest focus toward a new intention. What a wonderful way to practice opening up goodness and happiness in your life!

Back to my Franklin planner, several years passed where I found my goal stories in a tattered leather three ringed notebook. I smiled as I read each page. Each goal had been accomplished. I purchased a beach house. I had two children. Started my own business. I completed graduate school. These ideas started as wishes, then moved into heartfelt narratives, and ultimately became a part of my reality.

My life’s work is to help myself and others use transformative narratives as a way to free ourselves from energies and stories that keep us captive in jobs, relationships, or conditions that work against our success and happiness. Please join me by learning about, experimenting with, and sharing your own transformative narratives.

Be Well,

Yvette