Simple Serenity (eBook)

Chapter 1 - Moving from Here to There

When we traveled, my husband Harlan and I would often play “let’s pretend” while he was playing golf and I was driving the cart. One of us would ask, “I wonder what it would be like to live here?” Then we would imagine ourselves living in that place as he finished eighteen holes. At the end of his play, one of us would say, “Nah. I think we’ll just stay where we are.”

Where we were at that time is Austin, Texas, a fast-growing, technology-rich center. We loved Austin for so many reasons, chief of which was our home on the rim of a canyon on the eastern edge of the Texas Hill Country.

Our favorite vacation spot was Sedona. After we had visited there for about five years, we decided to stay for a whole month in a condo in the Village of Oak Creek, which is about five miles south of Sedona. One day as we were driving along, he started our game—except this time his words were different. He said, “I think I could live here.”

I replied, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

The next day we were on the golf course. I was the driver. When we got to the fifth fairway, I looked to my right and saw a “for sale” sign. I drove over to pick up one of the flyers. Long story short, today we live in that house. Our decision wasn’t a straight path. There was another house that Harlan thought was “a deal,” so he gave a low offer, which was rejected when another offer for the asking price was made. But that’s another story.

The main point is that we decided to move from Austin, Texas to the Village of Oak Creek, AZ. From a population of around a million to around 6,000. Big change.

Yet, not a change at all. While I lived in Austin, I made a decision to live from my heart, to focus on myself and not the behavior of others, and to live with intention. Conscious living, you might call it.

Conscious living is a state of being, not a place. But because geographical move is a major stressor for most people, I’ll start with that transition.

1-1: From Chaos to Peace

Our decision to sell our house in Austin and move to Sedona has thrown my surroundings into a jumble, as, daily, workers swarm in to prepare the house to sell. Furniture that belongs in this room has been moved to that room for staging purposes. Boxes of framed family photos and other familiar items from shelves are packed and stored. I won’t see them again for months. Furnishings are clustered in the center of rooms.

Turmoil is the best way to describe what’s going on with me, and I’m laughing at myself as I realize the one who teaches others to find their calm center and live from there is having difficulty practicing what she teaches. Instead, the reverse has happened. My inner peace has been disturbed by my jumbled surroundings.

To make it through, in addition to morning meditation, I’ve increased my conscious awareness. Do I need a drink of water? How about a walk? A short nap? Reading just for enjoyment?

As I pull into myself and meet my own needs, the external disarray becomes less significant, and I begin to find peace again.

Last night I simply shampooed my hair and as I awoke this morning, I felt simple pleasure in the awareness of clean hair.

Exercise 1-1: When chaos surrounds you, what do you do?

1-2: Equanimity at the Car Wash

I strive for equanimity, the ability to stay even-keeled, regardless of what’s happening. To be kind, even when others around you are exploding. To be calm and clear-headed, even in the face of danger. To be true to myself when it might be tempting to conform.

I’ve made some progress towards equanimity, but yesterday I lost it. When Harlan and I returned home from a month away, a remodeling project that should have been finished had taken over our home. Realizing I couldn’t sleep in my own bed and had nowhere to hang my clothes, I lost equanimity. First, I exploded at my innocent husband and then at the unsuspecting contractor.

The next day I drove my construction-dust-covered car through a quick car wash. I guided the car to the conveyor track and, as instructed, put it in neutral, took my hands off the wheel, and my foot off the brake.

Then I put my head back and closed my eyes. I heard the water pelting the car, but I was dry. I heard the softer sound of soap. Then the brushes went to work. Water again. Finally, a long blast of drying air as my car completed its gentle movement through the process.

The cleaning had happened around me as I simply sat at rest, protected, eyes closed.

I realized I lose equanimity when I am displeased. But when I enclose myself within a safe space, put my gear in neutral, take my hands off the wheel and my foot off the brake, peace rules.

Exercise 1-2: What steals you from equanimity? What keeps you in it?

1-3: Leaving

As I look out toward the canyon in the gray morning mist, I know it’s time to leave.

The oak tree that was just a sapling when we moved here has grown so tall that slowly and inexorably, it has taken the center of the canyon view. In winter, when the leaves are gone, the view emerges through the bare branches. Now that it’s spring again, green leaves prevail.

I chose this house for that view. I liked its other qualities, as well, but it was the view I most loved.

Over the years, we terraced and planted the part of the canyon slope that is ours. With the plantings, we pulled nature closer until now, we are immersed in its exquisite beauty.

It feels complete and whole. Gently and lovingly, I give thanks and release.

Exercise 1-3: What in your life feels complete and whole? For what are you giving thanks and releasing?

1-4: Done Too Soon

What are the words that describe my feelings as I prepare to leave Austin, where I’ve lived for 25 years? Here I started two new careers. Here Harlan and I met and married. Here I’ve loved living as I’ve worked with many people to find emotional and spiritual health.

One of those people emailed me last week, expressing her feelings about my leaving. Her words evoked sadness, and what immediately came to my mind were the lyrics from Neil Diamond, “And wept when it was all done, for being done too soon.” I shed some tears, but it didn’t feel right to grieve. There hadn’t been a death.

Then I ran across these words from Rabindranath Tagore: “When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.”

Our move is more arrival than departure, and my true feeling is deep gratitude for the relationships and opportunities that Austin has so generously given, mixed with joyful anticipation of what the future holds in Sedona.

Exercise 1-4: Exercise: Right now, with whatever is going on, how do you feel?

1-5: Disappointment

By intention and design, I live a happy, peaceful life. Not having expectations and enjoying life one moment at a time is how I try to live.

But yesterday I was living the sentiment expressed in these lines from Emily Dickinson: “A great hope fell. You heard no noise. The ruin was within.”

Harlan and I made an offer on a house that had been on the market for almost a year—a house with some issues due to its age, but redeemed by a fabulous, panoramic view. We went for it. Unfortunately, on the same day, someone else submitted a higher bid, and of course the owner accepted it. A great hope fell. I went silent. So did Harlan. Finally, I was able to say, “I’m sad.”

Previously I would have brushed my feelings aside, said, “Oh, well,” and pushed ahead, refusing to feel. But today I have come to understand that it’s better for me to feel the feeling and move through it. Perhaps the truest statement I made was to our realtor. I said, “We’re heartbroken. Give us some time and we’ll try again.”

Today is a new day, and I’m grateful for the experience Harlan and I had together as we went through the process of making the offer. I choose to believe there’s another house for us that will meet all of our needs, one where we can live happily. And that’s the most important thing.

P.S. We’ve been in the home we actually bought for about 7 years. The view is just as fabulous, and the house is much better suited for our lifestyle. The house we lost the bid on now has its view obstructed by tall trees planted by a new homeowner on the block.

Exercise 1-5: How do you handle disappointment?

1-6: Solution for Overwhelm

In the state of overwhelm is where I’ve been. We are moving from a house we’ve lived in for nineteen years, so we’re weeding and packing while finishing a remodel and preparing the house for sale.

In the last two weeks we have worked with a realtor, contractor, paint consultant, and stager, each of which gave us a long list of tasks to do. I was relieved when I realized we had heard from everyone we needed to hear from.

The state of overwhelm is confusion and chaos. In it, I feel rudderless. I can’t stay there for long.

So yesterday Harlan and I got a stack of index cards and wrote only one task to be completed on each card. We also wrote who is responsible for completing that task. Then we arranged the cards in the best...