Category Archives: mindfulness

Range

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One of my favorite books of 2019; read to see how NASA crowdsourced solutions to their most vexing problems, and other amazing true stories of the value of meandering.

I am a doctor. I do medicine. This is my identity.

Yes, and no.

“Did you always want to be a doctor?” Hell no. I resisted mightily the Chinese-American pre-med stereotype. And no, my parents never pressured me. But then sophomore year of college, I became a dorm health aide. I got a tackle box filled with cold medicine, cough syrup, ibupofen, bandages, scissors, tweezers, rubbing alcohol, etc. Dormmates sought out my fellow aides and me for help with hangovers, food poisoning, splinters, and colds. I taped condom packets to my door. Every month we convened in the student health service basement for case review and didactic education, led by the physician and nurse who ran the program. I was hooked. After that, I could not not be a doctor. Damn.

So I did all the things: Went straight through, taking all the classes and exams, following the well-trodden, traditional path to today. I regret nothing that I did to get here. I also wish I had meandered a little more, taken some more time, maybe… travelled more, seen more, and done more, before committing at age 19 to the rest of this professional life.

So I encourage my kids to study abroad, to take strange, interesting jobs, gap years, to suck all the learning out of every divergent experience they can get, all in service of becoming more of who they are. I want their range to be wider and deeper than mine was at their age, and then to expand further. Son is a sailor and world traveler, and Daughter explores widely in art, fashion, literature, history, and their intersections. They both feel the freedom to make things more than I ever did growing up. Score!

As for myself, it’s not too late! Yes, I’m a doctor. I could not love it more. I’m also a speaker, a writer, a counselor, a dreamer–and who knows what else yet!?

Oh, I’m a book club member! That may be one of the best things I have ever done–exposed myself to smart, diverse women who read fiction, omg. I always thought I had nothing to learn from and could not understand the point of novels. Now I’m slowing getting it. [The Midnight Library, Remarkably Bright Creatures, Portrait of a Thief–highly recommend these, if you have not already read.] Amazingly, I’m currently binging romance audiobook #41–more on that in a future post. šŸ˜‰ Through fiction I can live vicariously, explore my own inner world from different angles, and just wonder, not to mention connect with others whose experiences of the books diverge acutely from my own. It fosters empathy–how fascinating!

In the end, why expand our range–of experience, perspective, thought, and relationships?

Range allows us to reframe, to expand how we understand things, to realize how much more we have yet to learn. It stimulates curiosity, which fosters both earnest humility and audacious creativity. If we pay attention, really observe and witness the range of diversity around us, we inevitably, paradoxically, come back around, over and over again, to how those differences actually bind us together, and point us to our shared humanity, in the grand scheme of things.

By living and learning widely, paying attention generously and openly, even frivolously, we connect–to one another, and simultaneously more deeply to our true selves, in the fellowship of all of humanity. Wow.

Why, then, live any other way?

Three Helpful Mantras

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Have Fun

Be Safe

Make Good Decisions

Call Your Mother

I wonder if Son will take the keychain that bears these admonitions to college this week? I bought it for him on a whim a few years ago, thinking it was both wise and funny. And now it’s our shared mantra. I have recited the first three often while dropping him off at work all summer (how FUN to commute with him every day!), when he goes out with friends, and now as he prepares to leave for school. We have abbreviated it to HaFuBeSaMaGoDe (“hah-foo-bee-sah-mah-goh-dee”); I made a phone keyboard shortcut for it, which I’m sure will get plenty of text use in the coming months.

Last November I wrote 30 posts of ethical earworms–catch phrases for core values and life skill practices–with which I wanted to infest the kids’ brains. Try new things, ask more questions, persist, rest, trust your worth… Reality now hits that Son will really not be around every day, and HaFuBeSaMaGoDe is the one mantra (which I did not write about) that I hope will stick best. It could be an effective guide for behavior, as well as our little ridiculous inside joke.

Maybe he will also remember “Call Your Mother” (CaYoMo) weekly and as needed.

ODOMOBaaT

I have said and shared this mantra for many years now–even made bookmarks for friends one Christmas–but I forgot that I had written it on the blog even before my pause post last year. While scrolling through old emails and links this weekend, I came across it in another self-directed stress management post from November 2020 that lists One Day, One Moment, One Breath at a Time, my go-to mindfulness expression, as one strategy for coping with post-election fallout.

I saved ODOMOBaaT to post for the kids’ 30th, concluding life skill earworm last fall. I still wear the ring I had made, reminding me to take one breath. In hard times, I hope the catch phrase really does catch us–helping us all maintain confidence in our strengths, seeing where we can exercise our agency, even (especially) in situations where we don’t necessarily have control.

Totally Normal, Sucks Rocks

It really does take a village! Because without fellow moms, launching kids into adulthood would be exponentially harder. It’s just so intense, so profound. One of Son’s best friends’ mom is a clinical psychologist; she knows professionally how child, adolescent, and adult development manifests. She is also a human with normal parental emotions, and we support each other. We share (vent, complain, commiserate) about our feelings, compare experiences (oh, so yours doesn’t tell you things, either?), and remind each other that the boys’ separation from us parents is necessary and healthy, and we should encourage it. “Totally normal, sucks rocks,” we say, acknowledging the coincident polarity of joy at their budding independence and grief at the end of childhood–the inevitable and bumpy transition in relationship. We acknowledge what is, and how we feel about it, with radical acceptance, nonjudgment, and self-compassion. Since both of our birthdays are around this time, I made us each a t-shirt with the mantra printed boldy. We can wear them proudly; I bet people who see us will relate.

There is just something about short, meaningful phrases. They cut through the haze of emotional hijack and mental muddle like the brightest of flashlights. They help us put down our perseverations, our circular and redundant obsessions in negativity and victim mindset. The best ones apply across diverse circumstances and life domains; they are timeless and ground us in the reality of what is. They help us move through stymied resistance, toward clarity.

What helpful words and phrases emerge often in your consciousness and conversations? How do they help you cope and relate with your circumstances, surroundings, and other people, especially in distress? Where did you pick them up, and with whom to do you share them in solidarity?

Fall is my favorite time of the year. Wishing you all time and space to pause, reflect, and settle into peace a little more each day.

Infinite Possibilities

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Happy Birthday to meeee!! 

As of today, I begin my 50th year.  What. A. Ride!!  All at once I feel pretty well-accomplished and also utterly mediocreā€¦  Married 25 years, practicing medicine 20, parenting almost 19, blogging 7.  Such a thick tribe of friends, so many of whom showered me with love and attention today, OMG.  So much to be grateful for, there simply are not enough words.  So much love.  ā€¦I might list the myriad self-diminishing comparisons here, but naah, I grow beyond such pointlessness in my advancing age.

The Book of Regrets.  That was my original title for this post.  Would it have grabbed more attention and views?  It was an honest point of query after I listened recently to The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.  Oh my gosh, HIGHLY recommend!  In the liminal space between life and death, the main character gets to peruse her personal Book of Regrets, and sample various alternative realities wherein she made different seminal life choices.  Each path shows her both favorable and adverse subsequent events and circumstances, an infinite set of possibilities, paradoxes, and outcomes.  Perspective, my friends!  I think we consistently underestimate its value, or at least neglect to practice it in too many encounters and endeavors.  What lies ahead that I have control over and not, and that will forever send me down this path and not another?  Which of the countless choices I might make, in any given moment, may close these doors and open those?  I get giddy just thinking about itā€”the future is so bright, so full of infinite possibilities, and I get to live into it!  OMG canā€™t wait canā€™t wait!

https://www.facebook.com/waitbutwhy/photos/a.675997765782461/3758835197498687/?type=3

Then again, in these 49 years, my Book of Regrets can feel quite heavy.  It appears sometimes out of nowhere, dropping like a sandbag on my chestā€”driving to work, in the shower, looking through old photos.  Within seconds Iā€™m haplessly pinned under guilt, shame, sorrow, and remorse, sinking in the quicksand of self-loathing and powerlessness, wishing with visceral aching that I could just go back and be a better meā€”a much better meā€”in those flash moments that I will never forget, that I may never shake.  Ugh.

Paging through my book more thoughtfully, I realize that every regret is relational.  Itā€™s never about not studying enough, failing a test, not achieving some goal, missing some external benchmark of success.  Itā€™s never about coming up short in social comparison to others.  Itā€™s always about hurting someoneā€™s feelings, diminishing their self-esteem, abuse of power, and offloading or projecting my own discomfort and judgments onto others, making them suffer because I cannot tolerate or manage my own issues.  My regrets are all moral failings.  Oh man, it feels so shitty, looking back, surveying the damage I did, the relational carnage.  Wow.

*deep breath*

ā€œWhatā€™s done is done.ā€Ā  Husband has said this since our earliest days together.Ā  I remember how freeing it feltā€”I still hear his voice, so clear and firm, in the living room of our first apartment, or was it a dorm room?Ā  I am, indeed, utterly powerless to change the past.Ā  Thankfully, shifting into agency over my present and future comes more easily every year of life and adversity lived.Ā  Regret is painful.Ā  And itā€™s inevitable.Ā  Learning is the best poultice for such self-inflicted wounds.Ā  And if I can figure a way to make amends, all the better.Ā  How could I have been a better self then, when Iā€™m always bettering myself now?Ā  Grace and forgiveness, I know more deeply and profoundly, may be the greatest gifts we offer one another, including ourselves.Ā  My most sincere thanks to all who have granted these to me.

Peace and equanimity, generosity and humility, joy and love, curiosity and learning, connection and solidarity.  Thatā€™s a good, strong list of healthy aspirations, ya?

Itā€™s been a pretty awesome 49 years.  I have received so much more than I have given.  I shake my head in humble and astonished wonder.  The good news is that these days, I write my Book of Regrets in shorter chapters and longer intervals. 

Who knows how many more years I have?  However long it is, may I compose my other Booksā€”of Contribution and Connection, among othersā€”with eloquence, gladness, and excellent grammar.