Courageous Self-Care

A Pause within Moving-Forwardness

Yikes, the exercise gods had spoken. Or, maybe just the Fitbit goddess on my wrist.

For years, I’ve strived to consistently meet the minimum recommended goal of 10,000 steps per day. It never seemed to matter whether you got them in all at once or whether they were spread out through the day.

Fitbit recently raised its ante with a new challenge: track how many hours you move 250+ steps. At first, it was fun exploring 250-step “equivalents” (e.g., 8 round-trip stair climbing between the 1st and 2nd floor or 7 “circles” around the first floor of my house, etc.). Blue (the dog) certainly enjoyed the game, trotting along merrily at my heels. It soon felt stressful—rather than playful—as I started conjuring how to “game” the tracking system itself: perhaps by walking 500+ steps at the top of each hour, I could then get credit for two separate time-blocks.

Until, in a rather unusual way, “inertia” stepped in. I had just read a recently published article that referenced inertia from its use in physics: “The property of matter by which it retains its state of rest or its velocity along a straight line so long as it is not acted upon by an external force.” I was particularly intrigued with the idea of inertia being able to include “velocity”. So, I decided to allow the Fitbit to simply continue tracking both my moving and non-moving, while I shifted my attention to more intricate facets for this dimension of wellbeing.

At first, there’s this whole thing about…moving as it relates to time. If time moves forward and I stay put, then I get “stuck”. Yet, if I move out of rhythm with time (so that I’m either ahead or behind), then I’m out of sync. The image of a river’s current spawns a curious wondering about my way of being in the world. Is wellbeing a future-time goal or outcome that I achieve only by crossing through the current to reach the opposite shore? Or, is wellbeing somehow “flowing” in the current itself? Ah, yes, what I long to find: a way to be in synchrony with the flow of time so that there’s both a sense of moving and being still–in the moment, in the now.

Gradually, a concept of “inertly moving” shifts into a sense of “moving forwardness” even while still. A fresh image comes – of sitting inside a train, next to another train. There’s a sense of movement, although hard to distinguish which train is actually moving. Then, I remember encountering a glacier, a river of ice—its own forceful power constantly moving, albeit imperceptibly.

Ah…”moving stillness”…movement that comes from the stillness…offering a pause in my moving-forwardness. And, now, by odd coincidence, the Fitbit has suddenly and permanently “paused”—no longer willing to track ANY movement!

* Originally published as => Kiener, M.E. (2016, May). Choosing Courageous Wellbeing: A relationship with food. Sibyl Magazine. For the Spirit and Soul of Woman. Retrieved from www.sibylmagazine.com.

by mary elaine kiener 8 Comments

A Relationship with Food

I used to think I was a foodie–that is, until I met Blue, my newly adopted dog. He seems totally motivated by food, which makes it easy to nurture our relationship with lots of treats to reward his good behavior. Meanwhile, I’ve been noticing a fresh invitation inside to bring a “healthy yes” to my own relationship with food.

As I “sit with” all this, I first become aware of places inside me that want to stretch and be stretched. Ah, yes – it feels as though it’s not “just” my muscles, but also my whole relationship with food that is wanting to stretch.

It’s intriguing. While I often learn by how things are similar, I sense that the differences between how Blue and I regard food will influence this discovery process. As much as I LOVE food, I’m neither motivated FOR it nor BY it. Yet, there’s something about my relationship WITH it that is wanting to grow and change. For example, I have a “pattern” of going out of my way to get food “on the go” [usually less healthy and often unsatisfying] when I may already have food here at home that’s available, and perhaps even prepared.

With a recently made simple change – to consciously choose a meal from food that is already available at home – I also notice a shift in Blue’s and my relationship. Now, whenever I prepare food, he’s right there next to me, looking for treats. So, no matter what raw fruit or veggie I’m cutting up [that’s safe for him to eat], I offer him some. He loves his healthy treats. And our relationship bond continues to strengthen.

I begin to sense inside a mere whisper of something that feels like tears–as if I’m letting go of something from the past. Ah, a budding realization that part of my relationship with food has served as a substitute for whatever nourishing relationships that weren’t happening for me as a child. As I dip more deeply inside, allowing time to speak those words aloud, I also feel a physical, constricted tightening around the outside of my throat being met by yearning, yawning stretches from the inside.

Remembering the smoothie I had for breakfast, I also notice a kind of spacious feeling inside. Simultaneously, my body-mind begins to differentiate between sensations of “empty”, “spacious”, “full”….and something else…..Ah, there’s a wanting to “stay full” because it’s afraid of “being empty”. The word “enough” bubbles to the surface, tinged with worry. As I remember that I always seem to “have” enough, it seems this sense of worry is really about not “being” enough!

I feel a bit like the Sankofa bird—that moves forward as it looks backward holding an egg in its mouth. With a grateful smile, I realize this life-giving forward energy involves food!

* Originally published as => Kiener, M.E. (2016, April). Choosing Courageous Wellbeing: A relationship with food. Sibyl Magazine. For the Spirit and Soul of Woman. Retrieved from www.sibylmagazine.com.

by mary elaine kiener Leave a Comment

A Sense of “Being With”

“Are you ok?” The young man’s concern penetrated my awareness. Moments earlier, we had both been part of a group elsewhere in the building. I had slipped away from the group to respond to an unexpected text message I had just received. He had followed close behind.

He told me that he had purposefully followed me out to the hallway and that he often finds himself choosing to “hang on” with someone to help ease his anxiety. How fascinating, I thought–for I already noticed I was experiencing a bit of anxiety inside me as well. Except, mine had stemmed from sensing him simply wanting to “hang on” to my presence.

The next day, I spent a few moments inviting a fresh inner sense of the “all that” around this interesting dichotomy. First, I remembered being a young girl, when my younger girl cousins would come to visit and tend to follow me around, as if to “hang on” to my every action. And, then, a more recent, contrasting memory emerged. Following an out-of-town trip getting to know a new friend–he told me how abandoned he felt when at one point during our visit I had “walked away from him”.

Sitting there with both of those memories, tears began to well up in my eyes–that sharp, salty, old, deep, emotional kind of tears. I could also sense the tears in front of me–on my upper right side. As if standing behind it, I began to sense of how anxious that place inside feels to have someone around too much, or to be among too many people at once, at the same time.

Yet, even as I stayed with that place, a part of me moved around to stand a little bit to the right of the teary place. As I looked on it from the right side, there was a vague wondering of….very early on….did someone push ME away? Was there someone who didn’t want me? As I said those words aloud, the teary place felt suddenly heard. Fresh, cleansing tears began to flow. This time, tears of recognition that I had never encountered that question–that possibility–in quite that way before.

With the tears, arrived a deep (almost knowing) understanding of my mother’s probable challenge–how to welcome and cherish a long-hoped-for daughter into an already exhausting household filled with the energy of 3 boys under the age of nine. No wonder it seemed as though she never quite knew how to be with me…until, much later in life, when we learned how to be with each other.

I sat a few moments longer, appreciating different perspectives of “being with” another. Suddenly, a cold, wet nose captured my attention. Ah, it’s Blue, that delightful, new 4-footed guy in my life—an altogether different “being with” story!

* Originally published as => Kiener, M.E. (2016, March). Choosing Courageous Wellbeing: A sense of being with. Sibyl Magazine. For the Spirit and Soul of Woman. Retrieved from www.sibylmagazine.com.

by mary elaine kiener Leave a Comment

Breath-Taking Moments

I so love the “breath-taking moment-of-life” quality of an epiphany—as in a sudden, insightful realization into the essential meaning of a simple, mundane experience. Recently, I received a serendipitous insight as it emerged from a simple act of breathing.

Over the past year, I have invested countless hours into voice and Alexander Technique lessons. Much of my learning involves un-learning numerous patterns and postures I had acquired throughout decades of unawareness. Both teachers, with their wisdom, patience and compassion, have helped me realize how these patterns and postures affect my ability to be present and interact with the world around me. These habits had frequently stemmed from a self-protective response to recurring aspects of my life. Each resulted in an increasingly difficult and unnatural way of “doing” life, with less of the easeful simplicity and sense of wellbeing to which I aspire.

Not surprisingly, much of my ongoing discovery process has been about my breathing–a source of life-long challenges for me. One day, for example, my voice teacher had observed that my whole torso seemed to “collapse” at the end of an exhale. As a result, I would end up struggling with each recurring inhalation to re-find the desired quality of vocal production. I became exhausted from attempts to hold myself upright and felt discouraged as the quality of my singing seemed to stubbornly resist improvement. Concurrently, my Alexander teacher had been patiently helping me learn to “lengthen and allow” my body to move more naturally and freely. Until, gradually, I began to be aware of the sweetly subtle shifts which can now allow more ease and flow into my patterns of movement.

Which leads us to the epiphany itself. I was in the car, on my way to sing in a concert, including a solo that my voice teacher had chosen for me. It’s a lovely piece, well suited for my voice. We had spent weeks preparing for the performance. Having finished my vocal warmup at home, I was using the short time in the car to again bring awareness to my breathing. There, at a traffic light, I recalled my voice teacher’s earlier observations. Blessedly, I also began to clearly experience subtle shifts in body posture that would result in a freer, more natural exhale instead of either the undesired pattern of collapse or the over-compensatory, rigid pattern of holding.

In return for my gentle pause to notice–and exhale–without collapsing, I received a breath-taking, aha moment of living, within its own life-giving moment of breathing. I realized anew how each act of breath-taking reflects our ongoing being-with life.

Just now, yet another epiphany arrives with a gently whispered invitation from inside: “Let’s practice expiring.” As if to say, let’s no longer die a little death inside by collapsing with every exhale, but rather always living forward into fresh possibility.

* Originally published as => Kiener, M.E. (2016, February). Choosing Courageous Wellbeing: Breath-taking moments. Sibyl Magazine. For the Spirit and Soul of Woman. Retrieved from www.sibylmagazine.com.

by mary elaine kiener 2 Comments

Embracing What Chooses Me

“Pause–and then, without looking, select the one that has already chosen you”, Sibyl instructed as she handed a small stack of postcards to the person seated closest to her. And, so began one of the circle gatherings Sibyl led for the small group of woman who had joined with her for a magical week in San Miguel. We waited until each had a card lying face down on the table in front of us. Then, all together, we noticed that each of us had selected a different self-portrait by the Mexican painter, Frida Kahlo.

I held the image in which Frida’s face replaces that of a wounded deer standing alone in the middle of a forest clearing, its back and chest pierced with arrows dripping with blood. As I pondered its message for me that afternoon, the words that came were simply “wounded healer”. I sensed there would be more to come – and in the days and weeks since my return home – more has come, allowing the painting’s gift for me to grow gradually clearer.

I have learned about Frida—gaining an understanding about her work and the life that inspired her painting, as well as how she used her art to articulate her story while finding her own way forward. During an interview about the 2002 film entitled “Frida”, Salma Hayek (who portrayed Frida and also served as co-producer) explained the conscious choice to emphasize Frida’s inherent vitality within the story, in spite of the long-lasting pain and medical complications that often left her hospitalized or bedridden throughout her adult life.

It’s just now, as I’m writing this article that I have found the painting’s title: “Poor Little Deer”. I chuckle a bit at the irony: so often we respond to another’s pain and suffering with an exclamatory “Oh, you poor dear!” Our words are often reactively pity-filled, fueled with our own fears around “but for the grace of god, go I”.

I’m reminded of my mother’s tongue-in-cheek differentiation between someone being “bent” vs. “broken”. And, then, of a mentor’s gentle nudge as I once considered how to deal with a challenging colleague. Was I seeing her as broken and in need of fixing? What might change if, instead, I could view the other as creative, resourceful and already whole?

My learnings entice me to someday travel deeper into Jung’s world of archetypes and Nouwen’s subsequent writings about the wounded healer. Perhaps, there, I might also discover fresh ways forward during this next phase of my life and work.

Yet, for this moment, I will begin by choosing to acknowledge and embrace my own oft-bandaged wound as its own source of healing. Trusting that–without belaboring my own experience–I can lovingly listen and respond to another’s pain from within my own space of courageous wellbeing.

* Originally published as => Kiener, M.E. (2016, January). Choosing Courageous Wellbeing: Embracing what chooses me. Sibyl Magazine. For the Spirit and Soul of Woman. Retrieved from www.sibylmagazine.com.