Kvell–to be extraordinarily proud; to rejoice (Yiddish)

My sister and I have spent decades in adversarial relationship.  Being four years younger, I was in college in the 60’s, seeing myself as a marginal character, edgy and not-a-part-of.  Although I was a nice Jewish girl, I was a hippy-wanna-be, and regularly smoked enough pot to transport myself energetically from New Jersey to Haight Ashbury.  My sister, four years older, was of another generation, one of fraternities and sororities (I, too, was a sorority sister, but hung out with the stoners and was always and secretly in love with someone).  My sister was and still is more conservative, more appropriately living the role given her.

Me?  Nope.  I’ve had to forge my own way.  Roles never fit–I’ve had to journey toward my authentic self.  Coming out as a lesbian.  Getting sober.  Claiming my spiritual path.  Nothing too pre-ordained has fit me well.  And, it’s not over yet, as the title of my new book reminds me.

And as my parents aged and our relationships to them shifted, as they needed our support and attention differently, the gap between my sister and me grew.  She was more traditional, more medically-centered in her response to them.  I was more emotional and more holistic in what I wanted for them.  Our differences and our clashes got worse as my parents each aged and died.

The post-parential landscape, however, was different.  I looked around.  Support had thinned out.  I was now the next one up for aging and dying, a very uncomfortable realization.  My sister and I eyed each other carefully, and slowly, found our way toward each other.  Over these past six years since our mom’s death, we have become a real support for each other.

And new territory has been forged!  She and her husband visited for the past few days.  In my twenty-five years as a Berkshire resident, she had only been here a few times.  It was a major shift for her to come here, rather than for me to travel to suburbia, to her world, in which to meet.

In Twelve Step, we talk about “not giving up before the miracle”.  Clearly these few days have been a miracle.  To be with my sister on my terms, in my territory, in my home, at my work, in my office–this is all new and quite remarkable.  And it all unfolded with ease and fun, laughter and connection.

I think we have outlived the obstacles that kept us separate!

I remember that fabulous quote from Ulpaladev’a Shiva-Stotra:

“There is no other happiness here in this moment

Then to be of free of the thought

That I am different from you.”

Our mom is indeed kvelling in heaven.

 

I can pretty quickly turn a blessing into a giant opportunity to worry.  Do you know what I mean?

Example: a member of my family is visiting this week.  This is clearly an unsolicited miracle not of my own making.  (I guess that is what unsolicited means.  I felt compelled to repeat “not of my own making.” Forgive me.  It’s an important piece for me, obviously,)

Trust me–the details of our history doesn’t matter.  That would fodder for another book.  But really, details and the whys of my actions no longer interest me in the same way as they use to.

Now the process is the more interesting part of this journey of mindfulness. I guess by process I mean: how do I respond?  How can I realign my actions and my behaviors to my intention?  In this case, my intention is to savor the blessings.

So, rather than allowing myself to savor the unexpected opportunities to share my world with this Undefined Family Member, I can feel myself slipping into angst over details.  Inside my head, that would sound like:

What restaurants do we go to?  What is she doesn’t like ______?  What is she’s bored?  What if the house is too cold?

And on and on.

I am certain: struggling with details is just simply a smokescreen to keep me separate from living within the blessing, the bliss, the grace of this visit.

So–I choose to surrender the outcome of the details.
I choose to accept the blessings.

I choose my life.

In some real and strange way, it is so much easier for me to hold on that it is to let go.  Constriction is so much more familiar and comfortable that softening and surrendering.

A few weeks ago, in the midst of a round of 2:15-3:45 a.m. sleeplessness, I just happened to notice my body.  I was lying there, safe in my little bed, completely tensed up!  I was literally a ball of tightness.  I hardly noticed…….. but then I did.  I used breath and prayer to start relaxing but, phew–it was work.

I guess the fact that I’m noticing…..that would be the good news, right?

I’m so aware of my process of holding on, in the off the mat situation of releasing my book into the world. It is so profoundly uncomfortable to have to let go of it, concentric circle and concentric circle of letting go.

I love writing–I love being all submersed in the project, all thinking about it and considering it, all wrapped up, in a sense, in the tension of focused creation.  And now, the surrender into marketing.  Marketing is not even a fair word–I am social media phobic and technologically challenged–marketing hardly speaks to my carrying books to the Kripalu Shop and saying, “Thank you.”

So what am I surrendering Not Over Yet into?

I surrender into: complete lack of control, other people’s judgment, my own feelings of emptiness and self-doubt.

That’s a pretty sobering list.  Damn.

Well, I choose to practice letting go.  I choose to practice feeling my feelings.  I choose to practice the belief that they way out of the feelings is through the feelings.

Okay, then.

I choose to practice.