How Gratitude Has Changed My Life

Not too long ago, I was reading a book filled with mindfulness practices. One of them suggested keeping a gratitude journal. Every night before bed I was supposed to write down at least five things that I was grateful for.

Being a modern woman, I downloaded a gratitude journal app for my phone that would remind me to make my entries. At first I started entering the items regularly before bed. On some occasions I would enter my blessings in the mornings before work.

Upon realizing that the gratitude entries had become less and less frequent, I was a bit disappointed in myself, unaware that an unknown changed had already begun. Even though I was no longer entering items into my gratitude journal, I decided to leave the pop up reminder on my phone.

I started to keep my gratitude journal in my head. At first, any time I saw the reminder display across my screen (two to three times a day), I would look around to see all of the the things that I was grateful for and numbed off a handful of fortunate thing in my head.

Eventually this practice seeped into the foreground of my life. Before I knew it, every time something good happened to me I found myself making mental notes, even about the small things.

As  the gratitude continued to grow, the practice evolved again. Once again, I did not notice  when the shift happened. All of the sudden I noticed myself looking for the good in most situations, even the difficult ones.

Now any time there is a slight annoyance in my life, or something that can be perceived as negative I find myself looking at the positive. For example, when my coffee doesn't taste "just right" in the morning, and my thoughts immediately jump to, "well, I am glad that I have coffee."

It is a big change that seems to have happened over night. I am amazed at how joyful I feel, because I thought I was pretty darn happy before.

I am constantly saying thank you (mostly to myself and in my head, but also out loud and to others). Some days, I have so much gratitude it feels like I might overflow, spilling thank you's all around me. like leaves off a fall tree. There is so much to be thankful for if you open your eyes to it.

Warning this practice can lead to random feelings of happiness and smiling.

Aspirations of Perfect Speech

I've always been a talker. I have the ability to produce something to say about almost anything and everything. This is not necessarily a good thing.

In Buddhism there is a very important concept called "right speech". It sounds simple, but right speech is not just saying the correct thing at the most ideal time. The concept runs a bit deeper than that.

I prefer the term "perfect speech". In order to have right, or perfect, speech it is necessary to speak with restraint, only when it is profitable, with truth, and wisdom, at the appropriate time. 

Perfect speech is, purposeful, well supported, clear and effective. It is not idle chatter,  second hand information, or gossip. 

Over and over again, there is a quote that I have come across on the internet regarding perfect speech. It reads like a checklist in my mind.

• Is it true? 
• Is it helpful?
• Is it kind? 
• Is it necessary?
• Is it the right time?

At first, I would catch most of my imperfect speech after it had slipped from my lips. Recognizing something is wrong is the first step to correcting a problem.

Persevering through these early mistakes has lead me to where I am today. Still far from perfect, but spending much more time listening quietly. 

Although recognizing when I am about to use imperfect speech is getting easier, it feels as if I may be working on perfecting this concept for the rest of my life. 

Two years ago feels like yesterday. I remember drawing reminders on the backs of my hands, desperately trying to remember a simple concept, "Think before I speak. Go over the checklist. Do I really need to say that?"

Quickly I realized that, in a pinch, sometimes it's better just to say nothing at all, especially in moments of frustration. Maybe I knew it all along, but ego can easily obstruct this little truth.

The more I learn about these teachings the more I realize their truths and similarities. 

It's funny. These truths are so obvious, but still manage to remain hidden, as if the answers were here all along, always right in front of me.

This gradual awakening is like standing in the middle of foggy meadow filled with beautiful  flowers. We carelessly stumble around, clumsily trampling the beauty we are unaware is all around us.

Studying the Dharma (or truth) is like a cool breeze, gradually clearing the fog from our minds. The deeper we dive and the more we practice, the easier it becomes to see the beauty that was never far away. 

I don't know if I will ever have perfect speech, but it is something that I will keep striving for. If I ever do get there, it would mean I have lost beginner's mind, which would be another problem all together.

A Life with Mirrors

It took me forty five minutes to get dressed today. Forty five minutes just to put my clothes on, not including the time I spent completing the rest of my morning ritual.

Not too long ago I could be out the door, teeth brushed, hair done, makeup, the whole process completed in twenty minutes. 

Outfit after outfit, nothing fit the way I wanted it to. Busted zippers, shirts creeping up above the mid line, cursing the mirror, jumping up and down desperately trying to work my ass into my skinny jeans. There's supposed to be a Buddha in that mirror, but where she was this morning, I could not say.

Less than two years ago I landed my dream job and immediately started building an appropriate wardrobe. Unfortunately, it feels like everything I purchased over the last year and a half has shrunk. 

Impermanence.

Twenty-fourteen, so far, seems to be a great year filled with growth, spiritual growth, personal growth, career growth, ass growth. I could do without the last one, but it is what it is.

Something about mirrors. 

They have always been a fixture in my life, although laity the large mirror in our master bathroom has become a source of frustration.

Reflection is always helpful. Most of us have been told at least a time or two to turn our attention inward. But mirrors don't reflect what's really inside. 

I was an awkward child - pale white skin and jet black hair. In elementary school I was often teased, and called names. Children can be so cruel. 

Little me was soft and sweet, but the constant viciousness of my peers eventually rubbed that tenderness away. 

Looking at that girl in the old cassette tapes, boxes spread across the dining room table, I barley recognize her, yet somehow, that was me. Just a baby stuffed into a lacy, red and white dress. . . or a girl grinning from ear to ear, building Lego worlds with the, dark haired, young boy in front of her.

How can that be us, the inner voice whispers.

Puberty really kicked in over the summer between seventh and eighth grade. With my new hormones came many new emotions, along with boobs, makeup, and a new, unimproved, attitude.

What a shame.

When I was younger, because I had a habit of looking deeply into every mirror I passed, my mother would make comments, concerned about my vanity.  I never felt the need to correct her, since her assumption seemed to imply the confidence that I was trying to portray to the world.

I reflect back on that, stick thin, teenager, desperately trying find her own identity.  It can feel impossible when the entire world is demanding you to conform to its tragically modern ways. 

These memories bring me mixed emotions. She was a bitch on the outside, but  deep down she was putting up walls of protection. 

She could stand transfixed in the mirror for hours, applying layers of makeup. Now determined not to be picked on, even if it meant becoming the bully herself. When did this unfortunate transformation happen?

That foolish girl, working so hard to be beautiful on the outside, so distracted. She didn't even notice how ugly her insides had already become. She was loosing herself. 

I feel the urge to hug that girl. I want to tell her it will all be alright and then somehow shake her out of her foolishness. What a nightmare. Thank goodness I woke up.

 

In more recent days, I care much less about what other people think of me, but I still find myself critiquing in the mirror. It's funny. I don't think I care what other people think, but I don't want to just "let it all go" either. 

Where are my tight tummy and well defined biceps hiding? Are they still in there somewhere, or have hours of time at the gym been wasted? At this moment I am leaning closer to my second answer. 

I'll really be kissing that "yoga butt" goodbye if I don't change something soon. 

Aging is inevitable. Impermanence is a very central Buddhist teaching. I guess I need to spend more time reflecting on this, but still I am not ready to give up my fitness. 

This body is the only on I have, and we're going to be together till the end, and who knows when that will be. Me and my body might as well be good friends and if I get to choose or have any influence, I'd rather it not be falling apart in old age. 

Who we really are cannot be found in the mirror. I know that now. It is all superficial and the mirror is just a tool, although on some days it might be a tool that we could be happier without. 

In the mean time, since we are not going renovate the master bathroom in our new home anytime soon,  the new me and I are going to work on getting better acquainted.

With a little humor, and a fair amount self compassion, I think everything is going to be just fine. I'm not quite thirty yet, and if I'm lucky, I've still got a long way to go. 

Here's to getting older, and to all the Dharma gates that aging can inevitably bring our way.