daily notes

a slow transition

May 13, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

Things take longer than we think
— a friend said this. She is older than me, and I believe her.

What I often fail to account for are the transitions. The time it takes to move from one state of being to another is not inconsequential, nor is it swift; especially when one is moving from her thinking brain down into the wiser space of her heart.

Earning a living as a public relations consultant for innovative companies while working toward creating this dream of Lucia, I encounter transition on a daily basis. My day timer has slots for every thirty minute period of the day, and I learned long ago that organization is not as simple as fitting my list of tasks neatly inside those lines. It is difficult to move back and forth between thinking-tasks and feeling-tasks more than once a day. It takes time to drop into the heart space.

Transitions often require more time and energy than the tasks that lie between them.

On a slow day, I send 60-75 emails. I receive more than 150 (not counting email for Lucia). Each one is a decision. Keep? Delete? Read? Respond? If so, how quickly? Is it urgent? What to say? How do I convey what I mean efficiently, effectively, professionally? Anyone who makes a living communicating on email will understand what I mean at the end of the day when I sigh, "My brain is so tired."

Someone I love recently said, "I'm not very good at multi-tasking." Oh, baby, none of us are. It is the stuff of crazy-making. Yet we go around pretending like it is possible and we allow those who claim it as a mark of their superiority to convince us they have more intelligence, more drive, more talent than we do. But the truth is they do not. No one can be fully present in two places at once. Our brains and our hearts are connected, yes. They are also different locations with different functions. Getting back to the heart takes time, but it is the more powerful place to inhabit.

The roses are blooming now. 

Outside my office and living room windows they make the gentlest slow-motion explosion. It started as a mass of tiny buds. Now, soft pink blooms climb this sweet farmhouse like something straight out of a fairytale. 

Today is Friday, and I marked the moment of transition from week to weekend by stopping to stand beneath them. I smelled every one I could reach, noticing how its own scent was slightly different from the others. I whispered, "I love you," because I do. I closed my eyes and touched the leaves and petals. I breathed.

Thoughts slid slowly from my brain downward into the well of my moving heart. It slowed. I listened to the beats and for a moment could not tell if the rhythm belonged to me, or to the rosebush. Maybe it was a two-part harmony.

An hour later I am back at my desk, still transitioning. If all goes well, this shift from week-brain to weekend-heart will only take about twelve more hours. Quiet music from Patty Griffin on Pandora soothes my psyche, coaxing the progression downward with an easy rhythm that entrains with my pulse, just like the roses did.

These things take time: Making a living. Loving another person. Creating a new magazine. Building a team. Cultivating a tribe. Helping raise a child. Composing a life. Everything does, really.

Whatever you are working toward, know this: It will take longer than you think. There will be transitions. And they, as much as any other passage on your life's journey, are where beauty and meaning and vitality are waiting. Breathe in. Drop down. Stop thinking. Start feeling. Smell the roses.

Happy Friday.

xo
laura

mistakes & self-sealing

May 6, 2015 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

"Place your ribcage into neutral so that your lower ribs are flush with your abdomen," she said.

Standing in line for coffee this morning, I was doing this. Shifting my weight back into my heels first, like she showed me, then aligning my diaphragm over my pelvis. No one noticed my subtle movements but they resulted in soft, centered strength. Mild effort created powerful self-containment; and with it came ease.

Amanda is my strength coach and we are working on my posture. We are always working on my posture. "Your ninety-year old self is so grateful for you today!" she chirps, usually once during our weekly workout. I wonder if my nonagenarian self is still doing these invisible exercises while she waits in line for her morning joe. I wonder what other things she has mastered that I have yet to know. 

What I do know is that we are made of water and so we must cultivate the ability to self-seal if we are to move through this life with any sort of coalescence, with any sort of uprightness, with any sort of ability to guide and have agency over what we do with our time here.

This week has been full of water. I put out a call to hire a social media and sales assistant and received numerous beautiful replies and inquiries. More than I can attend to, truthfully. I interviewed a few this week. I realized, in meeting and talking with talented and creative social media marketers, that I made a mistake.

I do not need someone to do social media for Lucia. Not yet, anyway. I am doing fine with social media. What Lucia needs right now is a revenue-generator, a sales goddess, someone who loves--actually thrives and feels happy--selling Lucia to independent retailers and increasing the amount of money coming in, so that we can keep going.

It's a funny thing when you see you've made a mistake. There are two choices: 1. Pretend like nothing happened and keep going in the wrong direction to save face, or 2. Say the words, "I made a mistake" out loud and then change course.

The universe wants us to choose number two. But that second choice requires the ability to stand upright and contain ourselves. No one else is responsible for your posture but you. There are great coaches in this world (thank you, Amanda Ford) but all they can really do is show us how. We have to do the work of holding ourselves together. 

Coffee lines are good practice zones.

xo
laura

 

big heart questions

April 26, 2016 - Daily Notes, From the Editor

What does it mean to live from the heart?

I laid in bed last night rapidly scribbling questions brought on by a month of heart meditations--sitting every night with both palms on my heart, trying to feel what exactly it is telling me.

What does it mean to live from the heart? I want to know.

Who are the scientists studying the heart? What do they know?

Who are the most compassionate people in the world? Why are they so?

Who are the most courageous? What makes them brave?

What animals have the largest physical hearts? How are they different?

Who are the mystics who study the heart? What do the ancient religions and inspired texts say?

Who are the artists rendering the heart? What do they see?

Who are the musicians composing from their heart? What songs do they sing? How do they sound?

Who are the healers tending the hearts? How do they do it? What do they know?

What do the children have to say about heart? What do they know that we have forgotten?

Who is listening to the human heart? What do the cardiologists and pediatricians with stethoscopes hear?

What mysteries remain of the human heart that we do not know? What are the legends, tales and stories handed down?

Will knowing these answers help humanity survive, evolve, eliminate violence, and reach our full potential? 

Can I help uncover the answers? Lucia's mission is to give voice to the heart. What is it trying to tell us? Is there a collective wisdom beneath seven billion pulse-beats?

I don't know. I must begin my day. Do you have answers? Please, tell me. 

xo
laura