The River of Energy: How to Get Out of Anxiety's Fast Current or Depression's Deep Stagnation and Get Back into the Flow of your Life

So, this metaphor is totally cliche, but it works, and that's why I use it. I feel a bit like Forrest Gump saying this, but here goes:

Your energy is a River, like this River.

When it's flowing smoothly and moving along, that's when we feel energized, grounded, strong, and happy. But when we get going too fast, doing too much, our minds and bodies spin out of control, floating too high towards the surface of the river and we experience anxiety and stress.

And when we are moving too slow, dragging our feet in the flow of life, like heavy sediment and river debris, we sink to the bottom, stuck in the drudge of despair, lethargy, and depression.

In order to get out of the state of imbalance and confusion, we must figure out where we are in the river.

Those stuck at the bottom of the river need to gather gumption and momentum in order to get out of the mud and back into the flow of their lives.  People who are depressed need to move and move as fast as they can; running, hiking, biking, rock-climbing and more are some of the things that can you out of the mud. But getting out of the mud and into the flow is just the first step, the hardest step of the process.

Secondly, we must figure out ways to stay in the flow throughout our day and to notice when we are starting to sink back down into the mud. Walking to work, walking on lunch breaks, stretching at your desk, eating regularly, and drinking lots of water are all ways to stay in the flow. But move too much,
and we might get anxious.

And if we get caught in the rapids of anxiety, we need to slow down and float for a while. We need to sit still, get a massage, meditate, read a book, have a cup of tea or just take a break to let our hearts and minds slow down to their natural pace, not a rushed one we are imposing on them. But again, that is just the first step.

We must then figure out what we need to do every day to slow ourselves down, things like doing less at work and home and having smaller "to do" lists, and more "to be" lists.

Once you notice where you are in the River, you'll have a general idea of how to work with your energy to get back into the flow and ease of your life.

Speed up or slow down? What do you need to do right now?

©ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

My Birthday Celebration/Death Contemplation: Contemplating Death in Order to Celebrate Life

So my 36th birthday was just a few days ago.  I took the day off, with several things on my list of fun things to do to celebrate, including a morning of wandering and taking pictures, first of flowers in the Public Gardens and then gravestones in Camphill Cemetery.

Why, you might ask, would I want to visit a cemetery on my birthday? Well, let me tell you a little story about that. I have always loved walking in cemeteries, even as young child, and most certainly as a teenager, when I was completely obsessed with Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. I have always experienced a sense of spaciousness among the silent, falling gravestones, a serenity that confirms my hope that the Dead do, in fact, rest in peace.

I grew up near a graveyard, and would frequently walk there, wandering in and out of the granite headstones, tiptoeing in between the grass-covered footstones, trying very hard not to walk over the actual graves themselves – it seemed disrespectful to the Dead, somehow, to step over them while they slept. 

As I grew up and travelled abroad, I continued to journey to wherever people remembered their Dead: the old graveyards of Scotland where the rich, dense moss clung to the gravestones like a second skin; the haunting, stone memorials that depicted the emaciated prisoners of Buchenwald, a concentration camp in Germany; the Killing Fields of Cambodia, where a towering glass monument showcases the skulls of those lost in Pol Pot Regime – a place where hundreds of tiny, yellow and white butterflies gather to offer solace and comfort to those who come to remember the horrors of war and genocide.

As I walked through Camphill Cemetery, taking photographs of the markers of lives lost, I remembered these places and the bittersweet feelings I felt when I had there - the heartache of sorrow and the joy and appreciation of being alive. I reminded myself, that I, too, shall die, and I, too, shall be nothing more in this world than a name written on a stone. 

And even though it seems like a depressing thing to think about on one’s birthday, it is the truth, and it’s a relief for me to acknowledge that. There is a sense of liberation that can only come from calling a spade a spade. When I acknowledge the path that lies ahead for me - suffering, old age, sickness, and death - the realities of the human condition – it reminds me of why I need to pay attention to my life right now, in this very moment, cherish my loved ones, and appreciate my health while I still have it. 

As I left Camphill and went for lunch, the words of John McCrae floated through my head. You may not know his name, but I’ll bet you know the poem he is most known for, for we all had to memorize his haunting words in elementary school:

We are the Dead. Short days ago,

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

loved and were loved and now we lie

in Flanders fields.

It is said in the Buddhist teachings that death comes suddenly and without warning. And with that thought to contemplate, I ate my birthday lunch – a lovely avocado melt and scrumptious chocolate brownie. With my own mortality in mind, I continued on with my birthday celebrations - a peaceful nap, an invigorating yoga class with a live drummer, and Thai take-out with my darling husband. It was a lovely day to be alive.

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

Procrastinating the Positive: Explorations on Why We Don't Do the Things We Love to Do

So, I was looking at the date of my last blog post and I realized it has been five whole months since I have written. Five months! How did that happen?

I love blogging, I really do. And yet, somehow, I didn't do it. And then I have to ask myself, "Why? Why didn't I do something that I love for so long?"

I mean, I could make excuses, some really good ones, too. I was editing a manuscript. I was taking art classes. I updated my website. These are all valid reasons for not blogging, and yet still, they don't seem adequate.

While I don't want to be hard on myself for not writing, I do want to explore why I didn't write so that I don't do it again. Why wouldn't I take the time to do something I love to do?

As near as I can remember the first thing that happened was that I just didn't post for a week or two. "Oh, I'll do that later," I said to myself, "I need to focus on my manuscript right now." Well, "later" turned into several months, which was not my intention at all.

After not posting for so long, I then completely forgot about my blog. How could you have forgotten about your blog, you might ask? The answer is, I don't know, but I guess I must have. I just forgot I had one, forgot it was something I used to like to do.

The next question I have to ask myself is, "How did I come to remember my blog?" Well, I updated my website, which has a link to my blog and then it came to my awareness that a) I had a blog, and b) I hadn't posted in five months. And then I remembered how much I loved blogging, how excited I was when I started the blog, and that was when I renewed my commitment to writing posts.

And so now, after careful exploration, I have discovered a few things that might help me blog more regularly, and I will share them with you, my dear readers:

• Set a Specific Intention: Note that I used the word "intention", not "goal". And so my intention is to write a blog post weekly, which does not mean I will actually write weekly, just that I intent to. And to even be more specific, I hereby declare Monday as Blog Day, a great way to start the week.
• Write That Intention Down and Tell Others About it: In writing it down and having others bear witness to it, you are more likely to follow through. That was my mistake before – I had always planned to write weekly, but I didn't tell any one about my intention, and so I was not accountable to anyone, and so had no reason to follow through. In announcing my commitment to my blog to my readers, I already feel more committed because I like to keep my promises. And so if I said I would blog weekly, by Golly, I will.
• Be Gentle When the Intention Doesn't Lead to Action: Being hard on yourself isn't actually that motivating – it is gentleness that eases us back into action. And so if I don't blog one Monday, I don't have to beat myself up – I can commit to blogging on another day that week, or if that's not possible, give myself permission to skip a week and blog on the following Monday.
• Remember Why You Want to Do It: When we can connect with our motivation of why we want to engage in a certain activity, it is much easier to remember that we want to do it, not that we have to. It was my fond memories of the experience of blogging that brought me back to post. We have to remember why we want to do the things we love to do. For me, I love writing things and letting them go, knowing that anyone in the world could read them. I love feeling connected with clients outside of sessions, offering my writings as a way to support others when they are not in my office. And I just love plain old' writing, that's really the heart of it. 

And so with that said, I'll see you next Monday. Or not. :-)

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

The Red-Eyed Multi-blob Monster: The Wisdom of the Inner Critic

  Once upon a time, in land not so far away, the land of your dreams, nightmares, and darkest secrets, there was a monster. And not just any monster, but a red-eyed multi-blob monster. Now, you may never have heard of the red-eyed multi-blob monster, but that doesn’t mean he does exist. 

He hides under doorways, waiting to grab your feet. He hides in the fridge while you look for something to eat, He hides in the shower, deep down in the drain, but he hides in the toilet when it starts to rain.

He’ll hide in your ear when your trying to talk, yelling sarcastically, always read to mock. He swims in your stomach like an eel in a moat, waiting to criticize something you wrote. He lurks in the darkness, always ready to find something wrong with you or your writing, stealing your peace of mind.

Does he seem familiar now, now that I’ve described him?

Maybe you know him by a different name, but he is the red-eyed multi-blob monster just the same. The critic, the judge, the hangman, the gunner – he’s just so mean it makes you wonder, why he’s there at all, why we bother to listen to that monster in the dark – he’s got no wisdom!

Or does he?

        Well, I do suppose, he's got lots of eyes, and those things swimming towards him, they are his spies. They swim through the world, peeking around, checking it out, peeking around without making a sound. They come back to report, tell him what they’ve seen, what they’ve heard, and where they’ve been. And then the monster eats them, eats them alive, taking in all that they were, though they struggle to survive. They wriggle and wiggle and yelp, and cry, just moments before they keel over and die. And then the monster, his belly full of information, stews and thinks, and performs a little divination, predicating how things will turn out, telling you what’s wrong without a doubt. 

         But then, I say, he takes it too far, like guessing how many jelly beans are stuck in a jar. It’s just a guess based on what his spies have seen, but we believe what he says, no matter how mean, or untrue it may be or unhelpful it is, maybe the monster should just mind his own biz!

But wait, maybe there’s wisdom in there yet. What if he could just see without saying a word, notice how things are without giving a blurb. Ahh, yes, that would do it, to see but not to say, and then without judgement, and without dismay, we can fix our mistakes and learn from them well, instead of cursing and swearing and starting to yell:

“I’m stupid! I suck! I’m no good at all! An artist? No! A writer? No – not at all!”

Ahh, yes, it’s the eyes of the monster that allow us to see, but his teeth, oh they give us such misery. So let his teeth go, let go of the sting and the bite, and then finally you’ll be able to write, at least the first draft, but then bring his teeth back, for they’ll be ready to have a snack, to chomp on your grammar, your spelling mistakes, and more – ah yes, I’ve got it – that’s what the monster is for!

And so, by golly, I think that I have finally made friends with the red-eyed multi-blob monster, oh yes, I can say that I have – no longer afraid of that voice in my head, the voice that tells me it's all wrong – in fact, it's that voice, in the end, that makes my writing solid and strong.

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

Healthy Hula Hoops: How to Have Healthy Boundaries

Imagine that you and all human beings have a hula hoop around them, just floating in space. In this hula hoop resides your rights as a person, your feelings, your needs, your preferences, your desires as well as your dislikes. In essence, the hula hoop is the physical boundary of your personal space.

Every one is happiest and healthiest when their hula hoops are close to one another, but not touching, just like this:

Unfortunately, in many families and romantic relationships, personal boundaries look more like this:

In the overlapping area lies are great source of confusion. In these relationships, we do not know whose rights are whose, whose feeling are whose, and whose responsibilities are whose. In essence, we lose a part of who we are in the relationship because the boundaries are unclear.

And so when you try to separate yourself from unhealthy boundaries in a relationship, it is common for their to be a strong reaction from the other person, as they are still confused about where your boundaries are. 

And so, it is your job to education them. Setting boundaries is not about controlling a situation or another person – it is more about honoring and protecting yourself. When you can keep your awareness in your own hula hoop and not jump into someone else's, then you will get to know your boundaries and needs, and be better able to communicate them to others. 

So pay attention and ask yourself the following questions:

• What do I want/need right now that I am not acting on because of concerns of how my choices will affect other people?
• Have I communicated my boundary to the other person in a clear, direct way? (eg. I feel angry when you tell me I can't spend time with my friends because I have a right to have friendships outside of this marriage.)
• Have I set my boundary and stuck to it? Or have I been bullied/guilted back into doing what other people want me to do instead of what I need to do?
• Do I need to set a stronger boundary in order to protect myself?

It is also important to keep in mind that boundary setting takes practice and you may be not that skilled at it in the beginning. You may struggle with not knowing exactly what being assertive feels like and you may err on either the side of being too passive or too aggressive. Be patient with yourself. Keep in mind that setting boundaries is not necessaryily about drawing lines in the sand and creating ultimatums. It is about speaking your mind authentically, being mindful of other people's boundaries, and respect yourself and others.

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

Unravel my Riddle

Some say I'm addicted,
but I don't think so – I say
I'm in love.

Some say I have too many,
that I don't need any more,
but I don't think so – I say
you can never have enough.

I say I'm in love with the
flip, flip, flip,
with smell of old paper,
and the comfort of bed,
with the soft, down pillow
propped up under my head.

I say I'm in love with the
the soft evening light,
the hot chocolate and the fire,
I do say, my friend, is all I desire.

To curl up with one, or
curl up with a pile,
either way, doesn't matter,
for they both make me smile.

With a cat on my chest,
and a dog at my feet,
there's nothing better,
nothing so sweet.

What am I ?

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com

Ivan the Impatient Caterpillar

Ivan the Caterpillar was not patient at all.

He couldn't wait for anything, neither big or small.

Most of all, Ivan wanted to fly high in the sky,

never be happy 'til he became a butterfly.

“I wanna fly high in the sky

'cause I wanna be a butterfly.

Can't wait til I'm older, I wanna fly now,

fly high in the sky and I don't care how!”

Ivan sang as he wiggled along.

He climbed up the apple tree,

climbing as high as you can see,

and saw something near the buzzing beehive,

glimmering, shimmering, as if it were alive,

a golden leaf - sheek, shiny and wide;

perfect for a magic carpet ride!

It darted under Ivan, stopping right there,

hovering, hovering - waiting in mid-air,

waiting for a caterpillar to hop on board.

Ivan hopped on and away they soared!

They flew up and they flew down,

in zigzags, spirals, and all around.

Flying so fast, Ivan hung on tight,

hugging the leaf with all of his might!

Then Ivan, he lost his grip.

Off the magic leaf, he did slip.

Down, down, he went, starting to fall.

That's not want he wanted - No, not at all!

Down, down, he went, past the beehive.

Down, down, he went, in a nose-dive.

Now, what do you think will catch his fall?

A sparrow, wheelbarrow, or anything at all?

Will he fall flat on his face,

splattering all over the place?

Or will he land, safe and sound,

softly, softly, on the ground?

Well, Ivan fell hard and he fell fast,

but landed softly, safe at last.

Up out of a buttercup, he did climb,

climbing, climbing up a slimy vine.

As Ivan slipped and slid along,

he saw a thing, skinny and long,

a thing with wings that fluttered and flew,

and Ivan that saw it was someone he knew!

He lifted a leg, just about to say “Hi!”

to his friend, Daring Darla the Dragonfly.

Then Ivan, he lost his grip,

Off the slimy vine, he did slip.

Down, down, he went, starting to fall.

That's not what he wanted - No, not at all!

Now, what do you think will catch his fall?

A chick-a-dee, a bumblebee, or anything at all?

Will he fall straight into the ground,

down so far he'll never be found?

Or will he plummet into Fish Pond,

sinking, sinking, deep down and beyond?

Or will something save him from this disasterous fall?

Will anything save him, anything at all?

You guessed right if you thought it might be

Darla the Dragonfly, fast and carefree.

“Oh. Hi, Ivan – what were you doing up there?”

Darla asked as they dashed through the air.

“Well, I wanna fly high in the sky

'cause I wanna be a butterfly."
 Ivan did reply.

"Can't wait til I'm older, I wanna fly now,

fly high in the sky and I don't care how!”

They flew up and they flew down,

in zigzags, spirals, and all around.

Flying so fast, Ivan hung on tight,

hugging Darla with all of his might.

Suddenly, Darla dove down fast.

Down, down, they went, having a blast!

But then something went terribly wrong –

the wind was blowing terribly strong!

Down, down, they went, in a nose dive.

Down, down, they went, towards the beehive.

Darla dashed out with just a minute to spare,

then noticed that Ivan was no longer there.

Bouncing off a cloud like a diving board,

diving, diving, Ivan spun and soared!

Just for a moment, Ivan started to smile –

he was finally flying, flying freestyle!

Down, down, he went, past the beehive.

Down, down, he went, in a nose-dive.

Ivan started to panic and move around!
His little legs climbed so he wouldn't go down.

Fish Pond was approaching very fast,

as Ivan plummeted at full blast!

He turned bright green and he started to yell,

“Oh, my! I don't really feel so well!

I'm really scared and I don't know why

I couldn't wait to be a butterfly!”

Ivan hit the water with a belly-flop,

hitting it so hard with a gigantic plop!”

Splishing and splashing, Ivan coughed and choked.

Climbing up on a lily pad, he was totally soaked!

Darla flew over, rubbing her head,

Huffing and puffing, her face bright red.

“Oh, Ivan, you're all wet! Are you okay?

I know you haven't had a very good day.

Oh, why do you need to fly right now,

fly without wings when you don't know how?”

Ivan cried and cried, tears streaming down his face,

soaked with water and tears all over the place.

“I've tried so hard, but all I do is fall,

I'm never good enough, so why try at all?

I give up – I don't even know why

I thought I could be a butterfly!”

Darla wiped away Ivan's tears, and with soft eyes and a gentle smile,

said all of the things Ivan needed to hear, at least once in a while.

“Oh, my dear Ivan! Why can't you see

that you're a butterfly, already?

Your butterfly wings are deep inside,

but they will soon grow big, bright, and wide.

Butterfly wings simply take time.

On the inside, dear, you're just fine!”

Beyond the lily pad, Ivan then did peer

and saw his own reflection, bright and clear.

Ivan smiled as he started to see,

His true inside, as clear as can be.

Now what do you think he saw inside?

His joy, sadness, fear, and pride?

If it had a shape, what do you think it might be?

A star, a cloud, or a wave in the sea?

Even though a caterpillar, Ivan appeared to be,

Inside, he was a butterfly, as he could now see.

“I am happy, happy finally!

I am a butterfly already.

I don't have to fly to be alright,

'cause I'm a butterfly, bold and bright!”

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, Angela Dawn MacKay 

www.knottedwordscelticart.com, Twitter: @AngelaDMac, www.angelamackay.com