Category Archives: life lessons

Today I’m thinking about New Years Resolutions. I’ve also been thinking about how often in the past I made resolutions out of a sense that I “should” be doing something, that I was imperfect and wrong, that I had to be better.

One of my resolutions is to show myself more love, to be kinder and more forgiving when I make a mistake or fall short of the (admittedly high) bar I set for myself. To treat myself with the same caring and understanding that I want others to treat me, in line with how I strive to treat others. This may be the underlying resolution for the whole year.

So in keeping with this I am going to start each of New Years Resolutions with the sentence stem: ”I resolve to express love for myself by…”

For instance: I have been feeling heavy, out of shape, unhealthy. So I started out making my usual kind of resolution, about my weight, exercise, etc., one that felt like an order. After reconsidering how I’m thinking, these are my resolutions around that:

I resolve to express love for myself by caring for my body.

I resolve to express love for myself by taking steps to ensure that I have enough energy and stamina to get out in the world and do the things that bring me joy.

Those feel so much more inspiring to me. Yes, I have yet to see if I can keep them in mind – and I imagine that if I can, I’ll experience far more than weight loss.

How would you finish that sentence?

“I resolve to express love for myself by…”

————–

This post written with many thanks to Brene Brown and her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, for helping lead me to this understanding.

In my first 12 hours in NYC I went through quite a little challenge to myself in the realm of “no complaining” so I thought I’d share it all of you.

Last night I arrived in New York just in time to catch up with friends who were going out dancing to celebrate a birthday. We went to an upscale nightclub in Manhattan. Beautiful place. Our group was dancing and drinking and goofing around. I’ve rarely laughed so much out in club like that.

I was using my iPhone to snap photos and stashed it in the front pocket of my jeans. At some point it started to annoy me, feeling like it was in the way of my dancing so I switched it to my back pocket. We were all dancing as a group and I had my back to the main part of the room. Suddenly I felt my iPhone lift out of my pocket in a quick smooth motion. I immediately knew someone swiped it. I turned quickly but the crowd was too dense and I couldn’t see the phone. I caught a waiter who was passing by and told him my phone was stolen. We looked around the floor just in case it fell instead of getting stolen, but no such luck. He then called over a security guard and the manager so I could report it. That was about all that could be done. I turned so I could return to my group, but I was in no mood to just jump back in to the dancing and laughing.

I started to wonder what I should do. I was upset and angry but also couldn’t do anything more. The phone was gone and I didn’t want to dwell in my upset – the night had been so much fun. I also didn’t want to damper the group on a birthday night. I vented to one friend who asked what we had been looking for and felt better that someone knew, but it felt kind of incomplete because I didn’t fully release any anger and I was grappling with the realization that I still couldn’t actually change the situation. I could hear my own teachings in my head and didn’t want to start telling the story over and over again but it also felt fake to just ignore it. I decided to get away from the group for a moment and just be quiet.

I got centered and started to think my way through the situation bit by bit. I wanted to enjoy the evening. I couldn’t make the phone be un-stolen. In the morning I could go get a new iPhone (an upgrade!). I didn’t have to reach anyone that night. I had backed up before I got on the plane so there was no data loss. The phone was locked and I could erase it remotely so I wasn’t really at risk of having my identity or passwords stolen.

In short, there was nothing to do until the morning. I took a deep breath and gave myself permission to wait until the morning to think about it. I returned to the group and pretty quickly was feeling playful and laughing again.

At the end of the evening I told my other friends what had happened and also that I was ok, I’d get a new phone in the morning. I still wasn’t all the way through my upset but I was feeling settled.

In the morning, I woke up thinking about it again. I also wanted to be fully done with the negative feelings so I wouldn’t keep thinking about them. I replayed everything and then suddenly it struck me: Buying a new iPhone was an option! I was flooded with feelings of gratitude. Not long ago I would have not have had enough money to be able to just walk into an Apple store and buy a phone. I had been struggling financially, cutting every expense down to the bone. I had to carefully plan out how to pay for all meals, even choosing some days not to have three in order to make my cash last. And today I had enough money saved to go get a phone. It was an amazing feeling.

As soon as this thought hit me, I felt completely released from the upset and anger of the night before. I was clear that if I had my preference, none of this would have happened. But none of the feelings associated with the theft had any power over me any more. I felt lighter, grateful for all the things that have happened in the last few months to turn my finances around, and appreciating myself for what I did to make them stick.

It was quite a ride – and I’m glad I held on until the end.

Last night I did something I haven’t done for years: I shared a piece of my creative writing. While I do a lot of writing just about every day, I had taken a loooong break from writing the poetry and experimental short fiction that once flowed freely out of my pen.

But it was a friend’s birthday, a friend who was quite pivotal at a particular moment of my journey exploring identity, self, and creativity. In his honor I decided to resurrect this piece and rework it. I read it aloud at his celebration.

And now I present it to you.

This is dedicated to all the mixed-race, alt-sexual, gender blurry people, & everyone else who finds that “check only one box” doesn’t work for them.

1.41421…

After years of dichotomous choices
leading into an adulthood surrounded by pairs,
I begin to identify with the square root of 2. 

Beyond the visible
Between what is whole
On stone tablets and papyrus
it arises 

A secret so unsettling it warrants murder
proof

it is irrational
uncountable
frankly: unwelcome
but  

real

My own
ethnicitysexualitygenderrole
triggers
murder
legislation
demands for proof

My own
ethnicitysexualitygenderrole
only fully encompassed by the square root of 2
more than 1
a numerical quirk
which multiplied unto itself is the perfect sum of my parents’ love.

On my own:
a conundrum which cannot be entered into a census’ computer
fouling up the simple and harmonious duality of an endless
0 1 0 1 0 1 on off yes no either or black white
make a decision
declare yourself

my self tumbling along the square root of 2′s digital extensions
ever changing and ever endless
slipping like a ribbon between whole numbers
elusive but flirtatious enough to maintain interest
a mathematician’s dark-haired mistress 

I am at home in the space between integers
an orienteer given a compass of genetic codes with endless variation
following the decimal point of my birth
without discernible patterns
coyly evading resolution.

Now I see I will never be fully content or at peace.
No, that’s not it. 

I will never be done.

and
the square root of 2
and I
will hold a place in the rational world nonetheless.

——————–

If you want to know more about the history of the square root of two, read the Wikipedia entry

In September 2001 I was counting down the final days until San Francisco’s first Lindy Exchange, three days of near-nonstop swing dancing. I was totally immersed in the event, coordinating volunteers for work shifts, juggling the collection of registration fees to cover venue deposits, and answering an overwhelming stream of calls and emails from people across the country and beyond. I was the point person for all the legal/contractual paperwork and for much of the communication with the venues, the team leads, and the attendees.

In the very early morning of September 11 my phone rang. In a tearful voice my aunt told me to turn on the TV. Something was happening in New York.

I saw the smoke coming out of the tower and heard the confusion in the announcer’s voice. I couldn’t understand what was happening, so I jumped online and logged in to the bulletin board of Yehoodi, my direct line to the dancers I knew in NY.

One woman started a thread entitled something like “there’s a hole in the World Trade Center.” She was looking out her window to the towers and told us what she saw. That bulletin board was a lifeline of personal connection and an anchor. As the day unfolded, more personal stories flowed in. Dancers in DC filled us in on what was happening there. Others got online to tell us who had and hadn’t been accounted for.

I remember feeling devastated and also conflicted. The exchange was just 10 days away and I started to wonder if it was going to happen. I didn’t even know if it should. I felt petty for worrying about it, and yet desperately afraid of the financial implications of last-minute cancellations. A couple days later, I voiced my concerns to the community cautiously and asked if people were still planning on coming, despite the fear around travel and the airport closures and everything.

Some people were deciding against it, but mostly I heard back a resounding YES! One guy from DC wrote that he saw the plane hit the pentagon, lost friends, and would have to go to a different city to get on a plane – and was 100% sure that the exchange should happen and that he would be there. He put out a rallying cry for all of us to see each other in person, to connect, to live. I’m sorry to say I can’t remember who he was. I won’t forget what he wrote, though, and how he reminded us of why we were coming together and of what mattered.

And so on September 21 over 500 dancers from all around the country and around the world gathered in San Francisco. We shared stories, food, hugs, dances. It was healing to be together. It was clear that we were so much more than a collection of dancers. We were connected. We were a community.

Every year, on the anniversary of 9/11 I am reminded of that amazing feeling. I felt so blessed to have a solid source of love and support while the world whirled around us in confusion and fear. Without forgetting the tears, we also allowed in laughter. I felt part of a community that was committed to celebrating each other and to living fully. I am forever honored that I could help bring people together at that time.

Thank you to all dancers for allowing me to experience connection again and again. I have a wish that everyone could feel that. I think the world would be a better place.

Hello all!

Today I’d like to invite you to join me on my newest journey: ChangePath, my Change & Resilience Coaching practice. Through ChangePath I will also be leading workshops related to the No Complaining Pledge and the Happiness & Resilience Exercises.

If you think that someone you know could use help navigating a change in their life, please send them to ChangePath. They can find out for free if coaching is right for them through a 15-minute consultation and sample session. They can also join various workshops I’ll be hosting to learn and practice the skills which can help ease the difficulties of change.

I welcome any help you can offer to spread the word about my coaching and workshops. I also welcome your ideas about future workshops and/or how else I can reach people who may benefit from working with me in this way.

Thank you as always for your support and encouragement!
–cianna

p.s. You may have noticed that the URL for this blog has changed to http://blog.changepath.org/. This will not affect your WordPress subscription and you won’t have to do anything to continue receiving my somewhat sporadic postings. It does mean that I’m going to incorporate talking about ChangePath activities and learnings here, although the majority of the posts will still be my own personal musings and explorations.