No Thinking

I blame it on the stars. I’m a Gemini, so I’m verbally chatty and, unsurprisingly, I have a constant dialogue going in my head as well.  If not dialogue then a song or a prayer – never silence, never nothing.

It seems like I’ve known about the word “meditation” for all of my life.  In the last few years I have had experiences of moving meditation which I now think of more as a mantra (cutting the grass with my human powered mower is always effective).  But it was in Nia that I heard for the first time the concept of “no thinking.”  When we played with it in the experience, I couldn’t do it – AT. ALL.  In fact, I’m pretty sure the chatter volume in my head increased by 10 fold.  And I didn’t care, really.  I didn’t get how “no thinking” could possibly be useful to me.

Occasionally, over the ensuing years, I’d play with “no thinking” to see if I’d gotten any better at it (no).  And always there was, “what’s the point of not thinking?  It’s my thinking that is moving me forward to where I want to go.”  My  journey has been quite pleasant, fun and sometimes extraordinary.  “Thinking” = “success.”

Enter perimenopause and complete loss of connection to my purpose in life [for years].  It was (and sometimes still is) the most debilitating experience I’ve ever worked through.  I can rehab, rest, eat right, connect with friends and all the other “stuff” <aka actions> to feel better or get through or heal my body.  But not knowing why I was getting up in the morning was (and sometimes still is) my dark night.

I’d experienced this “why am I here?” dilemma before, but never to the menopausal level.  I was completely passionless, literally more interested in the couch, chocolates and TV than anything else.  In fact not really even interested in those, but it was an easy default.

Near the end of the monumental hormonal swings, a dear friend told me the one thing that she felt like had made the  most difference for her over the last year.  It was sitting quietly every day, even if it was only five minutes.  She was specific – not lying down or  walking – sitting quietly.  So I started to practice sitting quietly every day a couple of weeks ago.  I have to say, my life has been feeling easier.  The biggest relief is that I feel WAY calmer about not knowing “why I’m here” at the moment.  Now whether this is hormones balancing or quieter mind – I’m not sure.  Probably quieter hormones helped give space to explore quiet mind.  And most times, chatter mind is still ON and LOUD, but I simply notice my inhale, notice my exhale and whisper a mental “not now” to any thoughts that begin to enter.  (Just writing it out for you makes me feel better – thanks!)  I’ll let you know how it goes.

What about you?  I’d love to hear how you are taming the conversation in your head.  Or – how it feels when it’s empty up there. 😉  Please tell us your story below.

big hugs and quiet love,


The Power of Fractures

Last post I was in a yucky mucky mood.  I have to acknowledge how grateful I am that I don’t go to that place very often.  However, hanging out occasionally in the yucky muck definitely ups my gratitude factor for the “Glass FULL” moments.  Yay for gratitude and yay for optimism 🙂

I found out a couple of days ago that I have another broken bone.  When I broke the first one back in 2012, I was in SO. MUCH. FEAR. I was actually in more fear than I was pain.  I could barely function in my fear paralysis.  In hindsight, I think I made good decisions in a timely manner, but I continue to have a keen appreciation for how life changes in a heartbeat – one minute you think your life is going one way and ONE SECOND LATER it’s going a completely different direction.  One of the many, many gifts of the first bone break is how much better of a dog trainer I became to manage my 2 year old, frenzied Boxer/Bull Mastiff mix, especially since his exuberance was the partial cause of the fracture.

This time the fear was very little.  The initial pain was LOUD enough that it occurred to me I might have broken a bone.  But the pain receded so much each day, I trusted that my body was healing.  One month after the original injury I still limp and have sharp, jabbing pain.  This is a clear and direct communication to get more information – so I did.  Of the breaks that can occur in the feet, this is a good one, just a little bit of the proximal tip of the fifth metatarsal.  A nice tight boot and the bone is likely to find its way back to complete healing. Yay.  Even so, the direction I thought my life was going still has a lane change.  I feel grateful there is no paralyzing fear.  I feel grateful for the outpouring of support I have already received and I look forward to the many gifts this fracture will bring into my life.

big love and fractured gift filled hugs, j