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NOTES FROM LOUISA

April, 2023

4/30/2023

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Note from Louisa

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the difficulty human beings have in being seen by others when feeling vulnerable, messy, or a bit lost. I suppose it’s not surprising to feel “less than” in these situations when we live in a culture that stresses perfectionism and fails to value the lessons of mistakes. 
 
We know that human beings learn to incorporate new behaviors through a process of trial and error. But what happens to learning when we only engage in activities that we know we can succeed at? What happens to us when we stop taking risks for fear that we will be mocked or shamed if we fail? When we abhor the “error” part of the equation?
 
We may fear that others will judge us or not like us, further reinforcing some internal belief that we are only worthy when we are wise and resilient, instead of the dysregulated or uncontained demeanor we may truly be experiencing.
 
It takes great courage to walk through the door for your first therapy appointment and it’s understandable that there are concerns about how the therapist will perceive you and the issues you bring to treatment. We all long to be held in high esteem by others, particularly when we are feeling at our most vulnerable.
 
I think this might help explain why, despite long wait lists for therapists and the affordability of group therapy, many of us choose the path of individual treatment, fearing that having our messiness on display to peers will invite judgement or dismissal.
 
Yet, being together and “allowing ourselves to be seen” during these very human moments is exactly what is required to begin to accept and love ourselves through places of difficulty. The antithesis to experiencing ourselves as weak and unworthy when we suffer, is to allow ourselves to be held and supported by others who see our inherent value despite our messiness.
 
In the aftermath of Covid, it may take us a bit to come back out of our shells and engage in communal activities. This is particularly true for communal healing offerings that may ask us to look at the challenges and grief associated with the last few years. While we are finding our way back, we are all still feeling the vulnerability and the effects of having our lives so disrupted.
 
As The Center for Mindful Living begins to offer more opportunities for communal healing, through workshops and group therapy, I invite you to take the risk of being seen by others as you are. Challenge the internal and culturally reinforced belief that you’ll be able to be with strangers once you look more successful or put together, despite how you feel.
 
You are worthy just as you are right now. Don’t put off your healing or personal growth until you “look better” to others. You have gifts, strengths, and wisdom to share that are needed now. 
 
Blessings on your journey,
Louisa
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March, 2023

3/28/2023

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​Note from Louisa
 
This morning, I woke up to the delightful sound of birdsong, and despite the inflexible mercury staunchly resisting an upward climb, I can feel spring in the air. The Vernal Equinox on March 20th brings us to a delicious point of balance.  Here, we stand on the seasonal tipping point where the hours of light are equal to the hours of shadow.
 
This event happens both in the spring and again at the Autumnal Equinox on September 23rd as we officially moved into fall. For only two days of the year, the sun sits directly above the equator, with the Earth tilted neither toward, nor away from the Sun. For these two days only, we can witness a point of planetary equity.
 
For me, the invitation at the time of Equinox, as we move into the new growth and rebirth of spring, is to honor both the light and the shadow within. We can recognize the Spring as a transition into a time of greater activity, connection with others, and of witnessing the seeds that were planted last year pushing through the warming Earth to greet the growing light.
 
I might stop and ask myself what is new in my life that I need to tend to with gentle care? What were the dreams and hopes that were “planted” last year that will find their way to fruition this year, and what further ministrations are required for them to bloom fully?
 
It is equally important to honor the necessary darkness and fallow time that allowed those seeds to rest beneath the frozen soil, gathering their resources and strength for the growth ahead.
 
Here I might ask myself what has been the fertile soil that fed and protected the seed before it was time to grow toward the sun? If that soil is spent now, depleted of all its nutrients, can I release it and put my energy into the tender chute pushing through the ground?
 
Can I look to the sorrows and losses of the past and find the learning that emerges? Can I see how the “dirt” I have been caked in has allowed me to grow in ways I might not have otherwise?
 
My inquiry might expand to assess how I have been using my own light to be of service to others, or whether I may need the cool, quiet shadows to give me respite when I am overwhelmed.
 
I invite you to consider how the tension between light and dark plays out in your life, both internally and out in the world. Do you fall into the trap of overvaluing the light over the dark? Or the dark over the light? The equinoxes remind us that both are needed if we are to become whole and continue on a toward wholeness.
 
Blessings on your journey, 
Louisa
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February, 2023

2/28/2023

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Note from Louisa
 
I’ve recently found myself falling into some old bad habits: staying up late, taking on too many projects, and basically filling up my “free” time. It’s only February and the assertions I made at the start of the year (assertions… not resolutions) to honor unscheduled time, seem to be falling prey to the routines of old.
 
It’s easy to stumble into this trap, even when we’re trying to stay intentional about unstructured spaces. The American work culture has seeped into weekends, vacations, and even sick time, causing us to check email, finish up a project, or “just get to one more thing” before we can tend to our own needs and allow ourselves “unencumbered” mental space.
 
Yet, when I can prioritize my needs outside of those external demands and protect some time for myself during the week, my spirit seems to come alive, thirsty for a space for my creativity to run free, with no agenda, no timeline, and most importantly, no need to produce tangible evidence of “good use of my time”.
 
It is well documented that mental spaces free of the cognitive demands of others yield greater inspiration, creative drive, and sense of well-being. True, one needs to be committed in our culture not to give into the temptation to cannibalize this time by treating it like “emergency” or “back-up” time. Instead, we need to step outside the regimented requirements of ordinary life into a sense of expansiveness. After all, this is our life we are talking about. No one will give that time back to us. It is up to us to ensure that we take it in adequate amounts to maintain our health and our sanity.
 
When we are listening to our own clock, responding to our own needs, doing what is necessary in that moment to honor our deepest needs, we unlock the ability in all other areas of our lives to listen more intently to our own internal rhythms.
 
Often, we discover this on the third or fourth day of a week-long vacation (sadly, a dwindling practice in modern times) and feel the accompanying relief only briefly before having to prepare for re-entry to our over-committed lives. Perhaps, if we could attend to this need weekly, or even daily, we would feel less desperate for elusive time off.
 
This is the space that might be occupied by a daily meditation practice, a creativity practice, or a regular walk in which you remain present to the sensations of the body. Any practice that is not bound to time, and keeps you experiencing the present moment, will do.
 
I am re-pledging to give myself the gift of time. Perhaps it will be a few hours a week, or even a few minutes a day, but they will be my minutes, informed by whatever interests me or is needed at that time. I invite you to join me.
 
Blessings on your journey,
Louisa
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January, 2023

1/29/2023

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Note from Louisa
 
Here we are at the dawn of another new year. I’ve heard some say that this transition feels a little different than the last few years. There is something of hope in the air. I find myself curious about how the somewhat arbitrary change of date on the calendar can bring such a substantive change in mood or expectation. Is it the idea of a fresh start that allows us to forgive our past transgressions and look forward to a clean slate? That the clock striking midnight and the drop of the ball on Times Square now allows us to believe more in the possibility of change, of reconciliation, of success?
 
Or perhaps it is the sense of global unity as we follow the change of the year around the globe? Chuckling as we remark that the Pacific Islands and New Zealand are already a year ahead of us as the lazy veil of change sweeps across time zones, slowly bringing renewal to our little corner of the planet. How many events can we point to that occur to all of humanity at once? Perhaps this is what made the pandemic such a significant human experience - for good or ill, we were (and are) in it together.
 
I always love the invitation to enter a collective moment of meditation. Perhaps you’ve received the email that invites everyone around the world to calculate their orientation to Greenwich Mean Time and, at a prescribed time and date, take a collective minute to stop, be still, and breathe together. 
 
Sometimes the invitation is to pray. All of us. At the same time: Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Jew, Pagan, Buddhist, Secular Humanist, all of us together. Studies have been done on the impact of this work, known in physics as the Field Effect. While I’m not sufficiently familiar with this research to speak to its veracity or validity, I know from personal experience that there is something quite powerful in feeling united in a global human phenomenon. 
 
For me, I believe this is the seed of hope we feel when the calendar changes to a new year. We can together stop, take a breath, and begin again. We don’t need to wait for midnight. We don’t need to wait for global catastrophe. We can start now. We can begin here – with this breath, sharing the same precious air breathed by the other eight billion of us. 
 
Together.
 
Blessings on your journey.
Louisa
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December, 2022

12/30/2022

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Note from Louisa
 
And the Wheel of the Year turns once again. We find ourselves once more leaving behind the year that was and stepping into the year that will be.
 
Will it be full of challenge as the last few years have been? Yes.
 
Will there be plentiful moments of laughter, grace, hope, and joy? Of course.
 
It is in some ways ever the same. The opportunities to learn and grow, to stretch into our better selves are ever present. We may mistake them as injuries or wounding, as unfair treatment by others, as systems that have failed us. 
 
Or we can welcome them as teachers, as guideposts carefully placed in our path to invite us into deeper knowing and compassion of ourselves, one another, and the world that we share.
 
2023 will be hard. 
2023 will be glorious. 
2023 will be full of opportunity.
 
If only we see it as such.

Blessings on your journey, 
Louisa
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November, 2022

11/29/2022

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Note from Louisa
 
This is my favorite post of the year to write. It’s the time of the year that I get to give a shout out to all the amazing people that make CML, well… CML.
 
We are often so busy bustling about our lives that the opportunity to stop and recognize the efforts of others and how they have touched and bettered our lives can easily slip by. November, with all its focus on gratitude, is a welcomed reminder of how much work goes on behind the scenes to facilitate our journey.
 
If you read this post last year, I invite you to take a moment to read this new iteration. Nearly all the names are the same, which makes me grateful for a stable and robust community of dedicated providers and educators. There has been so much change in the world as of late and knowing that our team remains committed is such a gift! As I said last year, if you have been touched in any way by the healing work at CML, these are the people who work tirelessly behind the scenes to ensure that you are well tended to on your path.
 
The therapeutic healing at CML would not be possible if not for the efforts of our gifted clinical staff. Pamela Mueggenberg, Kara Cavel, and Jenna Lopez create loving spaces for difficult work and provide compassionate support for the weary human traveler. (And if you haven’t had a chance to check out Jenna’s podcast, you can find the link below). We also welcomed two new clinicians since last year’s post, Marilyn Erickson, who has been providing medication management and clinical support for the past year, and Hillary Rubesin, our new Intermodal therapist, whom we are looking forward to working and playing with in the coming year. 
 
I particularly want to recognize the generous community members who have stepped up to help us grow our Mindfulness programming. A few dedicated souls have been helping to support our amazing Mindfulness Instructor, Laura Crosby, to whom I owe so much gratitude and respect. Thank you to Aaron Weiner, Ashima Mehta, Katie Hupp, Sue Nardie, Tina Ray, and the wonderful Dan Weidner. All of these folks dedicate their time and efforts to create a safe space to explore and deepen practice. If you have not participated in one of Laura’s programs, joined her as she facilitated a sit, a retreat, or the mindfulness study group, then you have missed compassion and generosity of spirit in action. We are blessed by the numerous gifts each of these folks share with our community.
 
And there are those whose work is more behind the scenes but whose contributions allow our community to thrive and grow. Christina Murphy, works as our marketing and social media Goddess, bringing you this newsletter every month and keeping the CML community connected and informed. Thank you to Alma and Carmen, who keep our space so beautifully for us, and to Blake who makes sure that we don’t trip and break something of import on the ice.
 
At the center of the CML mission is, of course, you, the curious and courageous human traveler, seeking to know yourself better and find your way to sharing your own gifts in the world. We would not be here if not for you and it is to you that I express my deepest gratitude. Your support of our efforts, especially during the pandemic, helped to keep our doors open and reminded us that we can travel so much farther together than on our own. 
 
I hope that in the coming year, you will continue to find yourself on our doorstep, in our virtual spaces, on our cushions, and in the presence of your own magnificent, vibrant gifts. Your ongoing willingness to share so meaningfully of yourselves allows each of our journeys to be enriched.
 
In this season of gratitude, a heartfelt ‘Thank You” for making our community a space of inclusivity, healing, and peace.
 
Gratitude and Blessings on your journey, 
Louisa
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October, 2022

10/30/2022

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Note from Louisa
 
October is my favorite month.  I love the shifting light and the crisper air.  The changing color of the leaves reminds me of the natural cycle of life and how it flaunts its beauty at every stage and opportunity.
 
There is a stillness that begins to gather as we spend more time moving toward generative darkness.  If we are mindful, we can slow down and embrace the teachings of the shadows, without which light would have no meaning.
 
On the 31st, we will celebrate Samhain, Gaelic for “summer’s end”, the Celtic festival marking the end of harvest and the descent toward the dark half of the year.  It marks the mid-point in the year between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice, the point at which we begin to travel back toward the light. As an agrarian people, the ancient Celts regarded the end of the harvest season as the end of the year and, for modern day Pagans, Samhain is the equivalent of New Year’s Eve.
 
You may be more familiar with Samhain as it is commonly celebrated, as Halloween, having drifted from its pagan roots. Traditionally, Samhain is a time of remembrance of our ancestors and all those who have come before.  It resembles the festival of Dia de Muertos more than its modern-day parade of costumed children engaging in trickery and collecting candy.
 
Samhain honors the cycle of death and rebirth. It is one of the times of the year when “the veil is thin between the worlds”, allowing us greater insight and intuitive knowing.  We remember those we have loved and those we have lost.  We make altars with offerings to honor those who have come before us, reminding us of our connection with the cycles of life and death and the thread that binds one generation to the next.
 
While the true meaning of Samhain has been transformed over the years to entice the pagan populace to convert to Christianity, we can still see its influence in the feast of All Hallows’ Eve, when Christian martyrs and saints are remembered. 
 
This year, once the candy has run out and the porch light has been turned off, take a moment to pause and remember your own linage.  What gifts have been passed on to you from those who have come before? What traditions has your family passed on for generations? What family stories will you share with your children to help them connect with their ancestors and their history?  Can you feel their loving guidance on this night? As long as we remember, they are with us still.
 
Blessings on your journey, 
Louisa
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September, 2022

9/30/2022

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Notes from Louisa

Last week, for the second time this year, night and day were in perfect balance. The Autumnal Equinox, and its twin, the Vernal Equinox in March, are the two days of the year when the Earth’s axis is tilted in such a way to equally balance the light and the dark, giving us twelve hours of each.

 
The days will now become progressively shorter as we travel toward the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year. Paradoxically, the day that signals the beginning of the winter season, December 21st, also begins the Earth’s journey back toward the light, with days becoming progressively longer again.
 
In the months that follow the delicate pause of the Equinox, as we in the Northern Hemisphere descend into the darkening of the world, our sisters and brothers on the other side of the globe are drifting from their point of balance into the emergent spring.
 
Somehow, I have always found it comforting to think of this global symmetry, knowing that, while half of the world is awakening from hibernation and watching tender buds push their way through the earth toward the sun, the other half of the planet is preparing for the long nap of winter. There is balance here too.
 
The more the world becomes a smaller neighborhood, helped by the increase in international interactions borne of technology and the understanding of our interdependence, the less strange it seems for my neighbors in the Southern Hemisphere to be in the opposite environment from my own. 
 
I am now more accustomed now to see colleagues from South Korea attending meetings in the middle of their night due to time zone differences and I have gotten up at 3 am myself for the opportunity to collaborate with colleagues across the world. 
 
Sometimes, in the heat of self-righteousness or rigid beliefs, we may forget that we share this planet with seven and a half billion other people. We may overlook how our actions here might affect someone we will never meet, thousands of miles away. We can all look up to see the beautiful light of the same moon, but we can’t do it at the same time.
 
Perhaps it is time to widen our lens and our appreciation for the totality of life on this beautiful planet. These seasonal reminders always offer fresh teachings on the nature of our world and how important it is to play well with others. We have, after all, only one precious sandbox.
 
Blessings on your journey,
Louisa
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August, 2022

8/30/2022

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Note from Louisa

​
More lessons from the sea… this one is about longing. (You can read my first post about my trip to the ocean here.)
 
Now that we are home, I truly miss those early morning sits on the beach. I felt that I was present during my time there, trying to soak up as much as I could of the feel of the sand shifting beneath me, the sun in my face, the salty wind in my hair and, of course, the undeniable drum of the ocean, greeting me, then retreating, only to begin again. Still, I could not absorb enough of it to sustain those sensations beyond my experience of them.
 
Knowing that the future of the pandemic is uncertain (and when is the future anything but uncertain?), I wanted to shore myself up for the possibility of not being able to return for some time again. I wanted to hold on to the experience. To bottle it and bring it home with me.
 
Of course, I am being schooled in the clever ways of attachment. If I am busy trying to reclaim my experience of the past, I am missing the experience of the present. In trying to recreate the sense of reverence and awe I had, I miss the reverence and awe that is occurring at this very moment right in front of me.
 
I often wonder if the people who live in spaces of great beauty become inured to them. After all, they see that vista every day and I wonder if it carries the same level of inspiration for them as it does me who only can visit seldomly. And would the same not apply to me?
 
What in my own environs have I turned a blind eye to, or dismissed as ordinary, when the beauty that I long for elsewhere, is right in front of me?
 
How easy it is to become trapped in longing and expectation! Even as I sat on the beach and counted the number of days left before we left, I was not present to the very thing I claimed to not want to leave.  
 
We humans are strange creatures indeed. How fortunate that we have the capacity to develop the skills of presence, imperfect though they are. 
 
I invite you to look up now from your computer, your phone, your tablet and scan the space you are in. What beauty do you see that you have walked blindly by time and again, taken for granted, or failed to ever see truly?
 
Would someone for whom this experience is foreign be so cavalier, or would they invite you to look with new eyes for the majesty that lies all around us?
 
Blessings on your journey, 
Louisa
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July, 2022

7/29/2022

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Note from Louisa
 
The ocean is my thing. It’s the place where I feel most connected, most at peace. For me, it is a place of reverence, humility, majesty, and spirituality. It is an inconvenient thing to be sure, living in a landlocked part of the country as I so. A few years ago, my husband, an avid diver, and I made a pledge to make our way back to the ocean regularly, to feel gratitude for the gifts and beauty of the Earth and refuel from its power before returning to the day to day demands of our lives.
 
Then the pandemic hit.
 
So, this year, during our family vacation, the ocean and I have been getting reacquainted. I’ve been rediscovering her spiritual gifts each morning as I greet the sun in meditation on the beach.
 
Today, she taught me another wonderful lesson about being human at this juncture in history. I got up early so that she and I might share some time alone before the bustle of vacationers set in. As I settled into my practice, using the sounds of the waves landing on the shore as an anchor, smelling the salty air and the decaying seaweed washed up on the beach, life happened around me.
 
A small but very loud truck drove by several times, removing the unwanted deposits of seaweed, raking the beach in preparation for the day’s activities. 
 
A large, beautiful family took advantage of the early morning light to have professional pictures taken by the ocean. Several young children in their group had other ideas about time spent on the beach, despite their immaculately pressed dress clothes.
 
A panicked father lightly touched my arm to ask if I had seen his missing little boy, an act that any desperate parent will understand. (I later witnessed them walking hand in hand along the beach, a stern but loving tone in the father’s voice).
 
And, beneath it all, the regular, majestic, slurred drum beat of the ocean, waxing and waning on the shore. Predictable, steady, powerful.
 
I opened my eyes and watched each wave leave the safety of the greater mass and be thrust onto the sand, lingering briefly before returning to the whole. 
 
All these events seemed orchestrated to remind me of the nature of life, particularly during these trying times. The joys and sorrows, the loud and distracting work of life will always continue around us. We can choose to focus on those ups and downs, coming fast and furious, one after another. Or we can listen to the steady, comforting beat of the waves as they undulate with ancient rhythms, driven by forces much larger than ourselves.
 
We can understand ourselves as the wave, feeling flung onto the beach, alone and unprotected. Or we can remember that every wave has its moment, when it appears to be separating from itself, sometimes humbly, sometimes with great force and bluster, before being reclaimed by the vast wholeness of ocean. 
 
Do I see myself and my personal struggles as a momentary wave? Are my struggles but a crest in the greater experience of humanity? For me, how I chose to answer these questions may mean the difference between acceptance and resistance, as the events of life at this time threaten to overwhelm and drown me.
 
For you, it may not be the ocean. Your thing may be the mist on the mountains after the rain, the morning dew in your garden, or standing amid a grove of Sequoias. You may find peace and connection in the laughter of your child, in the aching muscles of good long day of work, or in an act of service to another. 
 
Wherever you find it, be sure to stop and listen deeply. You have been drawn here for a reason. Let other concerns fall aside and be present, even when it is hard, even when you are tired, even when you don’t want to.
 
Especially right now when it is easy to despair. 
 
There is something beneath the chaos, noise, and distractions at the surface. Something within us that is regular, reliable, and powerful. There is always a beckoning, an invitation to learn, we need only open and listen.
 
Blessings on your journey,
Louisa
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