On Laughing

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

A few days I met with a group of women. The group is not large, but a little too large for intimate conversation without a small amount of facilitation. So there is a discussion topic for each time we meet that everyone is aware of ahead of time. For this meeting the discussion topic was as follows:

What do you feel you can do better – or like better about yourself at this age versus when you were younger? 

Consequently, what do you feel you did better or liked better about yourself when you were younger vs. now? 

The caveat was that we couldn’t discuss our bodies. 

I absolutely loved hearing what other women had to share. I personally have so many things on the first question and not many on the second. My initial response to the second question was that I miss having passion for work. 

This morning however while I was walking my dog and contemplating many Facebook Friend’s need to criticize Kamala Harris for smiling and laughing too much, I realized that what I really miss about being younger is laughing. 

This realization began with me feeling a kinship with Kamala for laughing and smiling too much. I remember being in class on the first day of school every year and a teacher saying something quite funny that everyone chuckled at, but I laughed. Like really laughed. Ten minutes later I would remember what they said and giggle about it again. It was those times that I felt free and connected. I was engaged and listening and not worried about what other people thought of me. I was open to hearing and learning and contributing – and just being.

I used to laugh with my friends. I laughed so so so much my family, particularly my brother Mario. 

When I joined the military and was in Boot Camp I used to get in trouble for laughing and often the contagion it caused. The company commanders were quite hilarious when yelling at us or instilling advice. “It looks like the captains cat puked on your belt buckle recruit! How can you show up looking like this?” 

I’d laugh. My friend Brando would catch on. Others started too. The company commander would yell more- which only became funnier. Sometimes that company commander would eventually laugh too. Other times when they continued to scream I’d see from the corner of my eye that their lips would turn upward and they were hiding their amusement and light heart from us. 

Do I think that because we broke out laughing that it would be ok to show up with a dirty belt buckle for inspection? Of course not. The lesson wasn’t less powerful because we laughed at it. 

Years later in my early professional career I would sit in meetings and look around.  I would often take a pulse of the audience to see how engaged they were. What I would often see and most often on women, was a resting frown. Now we have the term of “resting bitch face”. 

I saw that these individuals were mostly engaged, but their faces told a different story. They looked miserable and angry. I’d take note that my lips probably were resting in the same way and would actually change my lips into a happier, yet non smiling, neutral position on purpose. I didn’t want to look miserable because I didn’t actually feel miserable. When I facilitated meetings and saw this face on participants, I would throw humor in the mix just so that face would leave. When someone in the crowd either during a meeting I was facilitating or participating in would make a funny comment, I’d laugh to acknowledge that I not only heard them, but appreciated the comic relief. What I found when people were smiling and appreciating that I heard their humor, is that they were more engaged and open to hearing others. 

As I’m pushing 50 I don’t laugh nearly as much as I used to, but I notice I still laugh more than most people and try to smile, engage and add comic relief when engaging with others. It’s a habit I don’t even think about now. 

So what is so wrong with smiling and laughing? When you smile people often smile back. No matter how serious the conversation is, having a sense of openness is always appropriate and smiling often indicates openness. It sends out vibes of friendliness and willingness to let others in. It doesn’t mean that the smiler doesn’t have opinions or an agenda or important things to say. 

Smiling and laughing does not equal being stupid. 

I need to understand why we are criticizing Kamala for being happy? For conveying warmth and laughing when someone in the corner says something funny at a time others are trying to be more serious? There is nothing wrong with dialing tension down a notch and acknowledging that we are all human and we can find silliness and humor in nearly anything. Not hurtful humor of course, but humor.

It took a few days, but the question in my women’s group about what I liked about myself when I was younger vs now- is that I laughed. I laughed and laughed it felt good. And it actually made others feel good. 

On Speaking Out loud about Things that Matter

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

We have to be able to talk about things that matter. It is the only way to create a secure and fair future. There are many ways and areas in which this is needed, but my blog today is about political matters.

We have to demand our elected officials are people of moral integrity and have the fortitude and curiosity to consider all opinions, even ones different from their own.

Leaders are supposed to be our inspiration to make the world a better place. We should ask them to Be the Change we want to see.

The world I want to see does not include bullying, meanness and heckling. Getting things done is not accomplished in that manner unless there is a fire or war and the fighters need to listen – pronto.

While it might seem like it, at the moment there is no emergency and there is no place for using degradation and meanness to get things done.

Tuesday evening, I attended to a banned book club on the Handmaid’s Tale. For anyone unfamiliar with the story, it’s a novel based on a mix of completely true historical events cobbled together into something that based on the past and the mindset that “it could never happen here”, could very likely happen just about anywhere.

Anywhere being the good ol’ United States of America in the fictional state of Gilead.

At the end of the book there is a short chapter taking place in the far future where historians reference the book as the first period of Gilead. In this future chapter, the reference of the first period assumes there are many other periods of time following before Gilead fell. What seems frightening is that I could almost see a future in which historians are studying the rise and fall of the United States which at just over 200 years old was taken over by extremists, beginning the first period of a reign of something none of us could have foreseen.

Think about it.

How can such a thing happen in a place where “it could never happen here”?

Perhaps it is because people become afraid to talk or do anything about anything that they perceive as potentially uncomfortable.

Are we not already at a place where this is the case?

What does this have to do with our leaders?

The italicized below is from an exchange between my brother Mario & I yesterday morning. 

BEFORE you have an opinion about it, can you consider the topic as it relates to civility? The point is about RESPECT. Yes, the writer said negative things about someone you may or may not like, the grammar of my writing or his might not  be perfect, but if you miss the message about being civil you are missing the focus and crux of the blurb and this blog.

Mario: Maybe this United States isn’t worth saving.

Esterina: What now? I meant there are so many reasons, but what is today’s?

Mario: Just saw a clip of state of union address last night.  Margorie Taylor Green, actually heckled Biden. Interrupting the President of the US. In the middle of a nationally televised speech. I am sure it’s viewed internationally. This pig of a congresswoman. Senators hooting and hollering like a Baptist church.

Look somehow if we in anyway accepted this, if the people elect a woman who interrupts a state of the union address, then it’s too far gone.

If civility is not in the people, then by default incivility must be in the people.  

And no it’s too far gone.  How do you solve that? How do you explain to people to be decent?

As I was writing the start of this blog yesterday, Mario texted more. I’ll paste it at the end because I think it wraps up the point I am trying to make nicely.

I didn’t want to post this because it could seem polarized. It could seem like I am a liberal and that might automatically put me in a box where I want to tear down statues and defund the police. Instead of doing that, it would be easier for me to post a photo of my dog and talk about my wonderful life.

While I am focusing on my lovely life (whether or not it’s actually lovely at the moment) and being afraid to voice my opinion and the wrath of what people think about what they think my opinion is, more people will be rallying (most quietly) and thanking Marjorie Taylor Green for having the courage to heckle what they perceive as a moron. That is not the world and change I want to see.

Similar to what the world must have been like before Gilead in the Handmaid’s Tale, it is far easier to go on with our everyday lives, remain neutral and be fearful that if you voice an opinion that you will be boxed into a category of ‘sides’ and get into an argument where two viewpoints are attempting to convince the other party of the right way to do things instead of listening respectfully and considering opinions different from their own.

A 2021 Gallop shows a record number of Americans who identify as independent. Myself included. A record number of people remaining quietly neutral.

I think we are remaining neutral because it seems both sides have moved to extreme views that we do not agree with. However, as we are remaining neutral, those sides are still “duking it out” and becoming more powerful in ways the majority of us do not agree with. While they are behaving like we are in combat and not like a democracy with a constitution that requires we consider both sides; either side could “win” and change the shape of our future completely.

I’m not sure how to stop this except to rally together with others to shame meanness, hatred and inability to behave decently in our day-to-day lives and in our elected officials.

We need to demand that our leaders do their jobs by being an example of morality, kindness and having the ability to listen to a viewpoint different than their own without shaming and demoralizing the other side.

While remaining neutral and not talking about things that matter seems safe right now, history has showed this has lead to consequences I am certain we do not want. It can change by making it the norm to have discussions about uncomfortable things.

The New York Times in America Has a Free Speech Problem  wrote the following:

For all the tolerance and enlightenment that modern society claims, Americans are [afraid to] voice their opinions in public without fear of being shamed or shunned.

How has this happened? In large part, it’s because the political left and the right are caught in a destructive loop of condemnation and recrimination around cancel culture. Many on the left refuse to acknowledge that cancel culture exists at all, believing that those who complain about it are offering cover for bigots to peddle hate speech. Many on the right, for all their braying about cancel culture, have embraced an even more extreme version of censoriousness as a bulwark against a rapidly changing society, with laws that would ban books, stifle teachers and discourage open discussion in classrooms.

Being afraid and sticking to your side is very human and natural. But we need to demand more of our leaders. They need to be able to inspire us to step out of our comfort zones, not retreat into them.

While we are mindlessly watching kitten videos and the Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu thinking we are safe and free in our nation, it’s very possible that the mindless head in the sand attitude is how one of the extremist sides will take over and our ancestors will wonder how the heck we let it happen….

Mario: Of the state of the union address last night.  I don’t watch because what’s really said? Rhetoric?

But Margorie Taylor Greene interrupted Biden, heckled him, called out loud from her seat in the congressional chamber and interrupted the leader of the free world.

I have my criticisms of Biden too.  In that short clip the poor man kept tripping over his own words.  It made him appear frail and weak to me.  

Let me take a step back and say I believe small things come together to make big things.

 So I am the type of person who pulls up to a restaurant and sees lights out on the exterior signage and I think, if they can’t get bulbs replaced, what kind of food am I in for.  Then I go use the restroom and it’s not sparkling clean and I think what does the kitchen look like.  

If Biden (supposed to be the most powerful man in the world) can’t command the respect to not be interrupted.  Well that’s saying something about him.  Teachers would be considered failures if they’re interrupted. 

If we elect a woman who doesn’t have decency enough to listen to Biden on this stage, that says something about her and the constituents. 

If she is not shunned by congress members that says something about them.

And if this isn’t shocking us, then that says something about “us”.

It means we’re used to this, it means we accepted this or have become blasé to this behavior.  

We cannot be considered a great nation if that’s the case.  

What does it mean for the US to be great?  

What it means for me is this.  That at one time we formed a nation bound in its political beliefs.  Namely free speech, religion, tolerance, we could assemble and protest and pursuit life, liberty, property, happiness.  

We respected each other, we thought debate was a virtue, we listened to each other and were willing to be wrong.  Because we created a nation a place and time on earth where opportunity existed. Merit was rewarded and on and on.  This was our greatness, never perfect but we believed in something, and that something was good and part of that good was decency.  

We have become indecent.  We write and accept tax laws that are these super complicated laws with secret loopholes that are only available to people rich enough to hire highly trained tax attorneys to find the secrets.  

That is indecent thing for our government to do to citizens for whom they’re supposed to be working for.  

And I can write a book on all the ways we have become indecent.  But shocked I was to find out in the state of the union someone can interrupt the speaker.  

Congress and the nation is there to hear what that man, Biden has to say, they are not there to hear her.  Her electors watching that behavior should never vote for her again.  

When you interrupt a speech your saying (without saying) you have no respect for Biden.  For what he is saying and that you’re there not to listen but to speak or disrupt.

Even if you’re the biggest MAGA person, shouldn’t you at least respect the other side that you need to work with to solve the problems of this nation? 

When we collectively lose sight of that, which by not being shocked we have, we have already all just lost.

I mean if we can’t stand up to interruptions, how do we stand up to Hamas bombing Jews and what seems like Jews overreacting?

The small things make the big things.

It starts with the small things. Every person should consider the following when they are about to speak:

  • Is it true?
  • Is it kind?
  • Is it necessary?

Why don’t we rally together and Cancel Meanness?

Why don’t we call out and shame someone who is being disrespectful?

Why don’t we stop being afraid of what other people think and engage in open discussions about things that matter with the intent to learn something you might not have considered before?

The words and signs BE KIND don’t say enough, but it says it all.

Life on Life’s Terms. 3 Years of Recovery

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Today. Friday. A day off for me. New Moon. 3 years to the date marking my Sobriety Anniversary.

I sit in the flexible office/yoga/art room. It’s the space within our home that is mine alone.

I sit in butterfly pose on my mediation cushion. I play a yogic playlist that I used to teach with and hadn’t heard in at least 4 years. It is familiar yet new at the same time.

The lovely backdrop of construction noise and banging takes place outside my door and below me on the floor.

In front of me is a pile of stuff that will be used “sometime soon”. Sometime soon started last June when our construction project began.

My husband pops by on a quick work break to say hello on the way to the bathroom. He looks in my office/yoga/art room and tells me the scene is “So You”.

Yes. This is me. Right now in this moment in time. Living life on life’s terms. Construction, piles of things, and me trying in the midst of it all to stay centered and be me.

3 years ago was a different story. I went to bed at 4am after being in the Emergency Room for not being able to come off a panic attack. I hyperventilated for hours. I had to appear in court in the morning for an arrest so I must have slept 2 hours at most. As I lay in the ER in the hallway (because naturally there is no space on a random February Monday evening) I couldn’t believe the low I had gotten myself into.

I didn’t know where to go, who to reach out to. What the next step was.

It was then I surrendered. In the hall of Yale New Haven’s Emergency Department. I took the first step that AA’s 12 Steps Teaches and surrendered. I lost control. I had no control to start with. Alcohol had control over me. I accepted that.

Every day when I sat down to drink the first perfectly chilled glass of chardonnay, I would turn on my soap opera. Commercials were still part of the app I watched it on at the time, and there was a recurring ad for a program called Aware Recovery. Every day I would think that I should probably call them. There was no time better than the moment to look into this. I put in a request for information on my smartphone right there in the hall in the middle of the night.

Aware Recovery called me back the next morning while I was in court waiting to be seen. I remember telling the person on the phone where I was. I was expecting shock and disgust but what the person told me is that they’d been in my exact position and they can help. I cried with relief when hearing that. Relief for not being judged. Relief for knowing there is help and knowing that someone in my position was able to come back from something like this.

The next few days and weeks were a blur. Aware Recovery stepped up. At the time I didn’t know I would need to rely on a community to help me get through recovery or who if anyone I had already known would be a part of what I didn’t even know I needed, but it works out if you surrender. It is done one step at a time. Metaphorically. Literally. Step one was to surrender. The moment I did that for real, really real – the rest started to fall into place. You have to want it and to surrender. It’s the easiest/hardest part.

One still needs to work. The community can’t do it for you.

I can write and list all the lessons I learned, thank all the people who did a part either willingly or unknowingly to help, talk about the metaphors, the work, the yoga, my own journey – but I’ve done that many times.

Today I’m just thankful for where I am and can attest to anyone who isn’t sure they should, can or want to quit drinking – that they can really do it. Life is better without it. If you think you need it, it helps you, it tastes good – some might be true, but there are healthier ways without the risk of becoming addicted to get the benefits you seek.

I’m still me, only better.

This was me before – this is me now. I’m just not inebriated, angry, silly, prone to being triggered, or prone to risky behavior – drunk texting, flirting, driving…. It’s just me without the risks, calories, costs, and cravings.

I love to knit. Particularly to knit big chunky cozy blankets.

I love plants and gardening.

I love yoga and meditation.

I love reading, particularly spiritual books.

I love living by the water and all things nautical.

I love painting, drawing and creating art.

Life on life’s terms. It’s an AA term I love. It’s not just people in recovery this applies to. It’s an awesome way to accept life.

I’ve been living through a construction project. My house has been noisy and dusty and at times I felt like I have been losing my mind. The past 3 years taught me many lessons like this in different ways.

This is life. We can either accept it and feel free or fight it and feel like a prisoner on someone else’s terms. Life isn’t going to stop being hard because you stop drinking. But you will be able to accept life as it shows up without pain.

This is my life and I accept it.

Everyone’s life is different, full of what they love and cherish and contain stuff, people, circumstances that they really wish wasn’t there.

Who ever said life would be anything other than good, bad and everything in between?

This is my life. You have yours and maybe your story or someone you love’s story involve(d/s) addictive substances too. There is a community of us who have recovered from addition and want to help anyone who wants help in the ways they know how to.

This is one way I know how – reaching out, sharing, sending love and being available.

Namaste.

On Why I Clean Everyday

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

First – why do you care? Haha, but really… If you care at all, why do you? How does it affect you?

When I was 22 years old I moved to Cape Cod. I was entering the Active USCG Reserves while transitioning from a military member to a military spouse. My new home was located on a military base. It was not my first home as an adult, but it was the first home I set up alone.

This period was a transitional time in my life. Before then I went straight from high school into the military. I was married just over a year later and unexpectedly pregnant 6 months after that. My life was busy and I had not truly actively planned anything in my life until that point. As I looked around at all the boxes and pictures to hang, the disorder around me was affecting my mind. Or was it the disorder in my mind affecting my outer world?

I quickly went to work setting up home. While I opened boxes, and organized the outward disarray, the disorder in my mind started to unravel into digestible thoughts. How do I gather all the college credits I accumulated into applying for a degree? Do I quit smoking? Have another baby? What do I want to be when I grow up?

As I unpacked and moved items, then moved items again into better places I made notes – call the education office, look into the local college, schedule that physical, reach out to neighbors, ask about pediatricians, talk to spouse about a new baby while this little guy was still young so he had a playmate…

The act of outwardly organizing was helpful. I was making progress on something important, but also the monotony combined with the active thinking of where we would most easily grab a plate was just enough active/inactive brain power to keep my mind focused on thinking about the next phase of my life.

When the house was all set up and arranged just so, I missed the act of taking care of it. So I cleaned it really well. Again, the repetition and combination of active/inactive thought was helpful in  organizing my inner thoughts. As they were all I had while doing this type of work.

I learned then I very much enjoyed cleaning. All these years later I would label what I was doing as a sort of meditation. But at the time it only felt like cleaning. I started to clean everyday in various ways. There was everyday picking up (dishes, laundry, diapers, trash, wipe the table…) but also things that needed to happen often but not daily – wash floors, launder sheets, clean bathroom. I put the nondaily essentials into a schedule for myself the way I learned in my years of cooking and ended up doing meal planning and shopping… basically transferring my work skills to my home. Then I moved these things to the outside – fix fence, mow lawn, ask about the grass seeds that are supposedly free…

I met my neighbors. They were all lovely. The one who was the friendliest lived across the street and worked on the base as a cleaner for the military houses in between family transitions. I don’t remember her name but I will call her Melanie. I asked Melanie what she did when she cleaned these empty houses and she told me all about the floors and the blinds and the walls and corners, and all the checkboxes she had to complete. Surprisingly her house was quite a mess and she didn’t really enjoy cleaning. But she did comment that she saw me cleaning often.

What ???

Saw me cleaning? How?

Through your window Melanie replied…

Through my window I thought?

Now I was embarrassed. But intrigued by what she told me. I hadn’t thought about cleaning blinds or paying attention to ceiling or floor corners.

A day or two later I decided to tackle the blinds. As I was doing so Melanie waved to me from insider her home across the street. I was slightly embarrassed yet again but continued to clean the blinds as if it were a normal everyday occurrence.

The next time I saw Melanie she commented on my cleaning again. Melanie commenting on my cleaning became the standard. It embarrassed me so I often would wait until I didn’t see her mini-van in the carport to clean anywhere near my own windows or outside.

None-the-less from there I continued a lifelong habit of cleaning nearly daily and scheduling various cleaning tasks for various days of the week.

Through the years I’ve had to explain and defend my cleaning to my partners, neighbors, kids, step-kids, friends who comment with some kind of annoyance that my house is clean. I was always trying to hide it, clarify where I saw dirt or oils, negotiate with the kids to just vacuum that room – yes on this vacuum setting. It was exhausting. I loved to clean when no one was home so I didn’t have to explain it.

Which brings me to the point of this blog. Why did anyone care that I was cleaning in the first place? I didn’t really ask for help. The kids chores of table setting, dish washing, cleaning their own bathrooms on a schedule or scraping the cat litter of the cats they wanted were not chores of some Nazi clean loving freak. The cleanliness of other people’s homes doesn’t affect how much I enjoy visiting their home or their company in any way. I’m not judging those who don’t like to clean. I know I’m unusual in this particular way.

Which brings me to a bigger question. Why does anyone really care what other people do? How they take care of their home, how often they cut their lawn, their hair, their fingernails? How deep into my life do you care about what I do? Why does my lawn count and my fingernails not so much?

At what point does what I do affect truly affect anyone else? Or does what I am doing make others reflect on what they are doing? And is that really my problem? Should I be hiding my true nature in worrying about how others will look at me or themselves?  I did hide my real self for a long time worrying about what other people thought. That was not healthy.

This question grows from me into the larger scale. Why does anyone care who anyone loves or how they use their body to please a lover? How does the spices one uses in their cooking matter to you? Why does it matter how other cultures cook, pray, love, dress, and take care of one another?

Yes – there are things that affect other people in some ways. But not as many as you think. Maybe the one house on the block with the overgrown lawn can bring down the property value of the street. There are things you can have influence over – like talking to that homeowner and maybe even offering to cut their lawn because it’s a single parent short on time. But perhaps do back down and accept how things are if that person doesn’t reply the way you’d like. You cannot control other people and just because you don’t like something they do or don’t do, it doesn’t make them wrong or crazy. Why waste any mental energy on something you cannot control?

I’m not saying it’s easy to do this, I’m just offering the suggestion to ask yourself why you might care and why you are wasting your mental energy on something you can’t control. There is a locus of what you can control, influence and what you have no control over.

I clean all the time. I like it. It clears my mind. For me the house doesn’t need to be very dirty to clean it (most folks shower daily even when they aren’t that dirty). It is something in this crazy world that I feel I have control over. I like the way I feel after moving around and taking care of the animate and inanimate objects that I own like my bed, plants and pets. I like the way those objects like being taken care of by me. I like the way my surroundings look. The question I asked myself when I was 22 about the disorder of my environment affecting my mind or if it was the other way around is irrelevant to me today. Both matter and this is one of my methods to tackle both.

But why do I need to even explain that?

So I ask again and again and again… why does it matter?

You have control over the thoughts about why this or anything matters. Are you wasting your energy on something you want to waste it on? Do you have control over it? Influence? Neither?

I’m going to clean whether anyone likes it or not. I hope you collect your gnomes or pink socks or do whatever it is that you like as well as long as no one is getting hurt. Don’t worry if I like it, I love you for being you and doing what you love.

Make sure you are doing no harm and then do what you love without shame or question or worry.

Be the change you want to see. Be what you wish the world to be.

It’s all you can do.

On the Teacher and Communication 

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This story (two paragraphs down) has come up for me in various ways during past few weeks. I’ve been referencing it in thought and in conversations. I feel the story is rich with many lessons, particularly the meat of the story on emotions. One lesson I continue to ponder and adjust my own behavior on is clarity in communication.

This week alone there were at least five occasions at work and three at home where I was listening intently to another person and either during the communication or shortly thereafter realized that there was more than one way to interpret what was being said. Yesterday I interrupted an ongoing written chat to suggest that it’s difficult to get what is inside one person’s head into another’s and asked if we could verbally communicate. Since I read and discussed this story, I have been picking up the phone and turning on my camera far more often than before to make sure that I am on the same page as the other individual(s) I am working with. 

Negative Emotions by Lydia Davis

A well-meaning teacher, inspired by a text he had been reading, once sent all the other teachers in his school a message about negative emotions. 

The message consisted entirely of advice quoted from a Vietnamese Buddhist monk:

Emotion, said the monk, is like a storm: it stays for a while and then it goes. Upon perceiving the emotion (like a coming storm), one should put oneself in a stable position. One should sit or lie down. One should focus on one’s abdomen. One should focus, specifically, on the area just below one’s navel, and practice mindful breathing. If one can identify the emotion as an emotion, it may then be easier to handle.

The other teachers were puzzled. They did not understand why their colleague had sent a message to them about negative emotions. They resented the message, and they resented their colleague. They thought he was accusing them of having negative emotions and needing advice about how to handle them. Some of them were, in fact, angry.

The teachers did not choose to regard their anger as a coming storm. They did not focus on their abdomens.  They did not focus on the area just below their navels. Instead, they wrote back immediately, declaring that because they did not understand why he had sent it, his message had filled them with negative emotions. They told him that it would take a lot of practice for them to get over the negative emotions caused by his message. But, they went on, they did not intend to do this practice. Far from being troubled by their negative emotions, they said, they in fact liked having negative emotions, particularly about him and his message.

This reading opened my eyes to how often there is a disconnect between what is said and what is understood. I just haven’t noticed this before. It is particularly apparent when the communication is in writing.

I would like to convey that reading something like this on my own is different than hearing it read. Moreover, the more I read it; the richer it becomes. And when it’s discussed with other people I get perspectives I would have never come to on my own. 

Well DUH…

This is often the case for me too in a local library writing group I attend and a banned book club that I often participate in.

My favorite recent example of this “Duh” is after reading this passage about the teacher, a member of the group brought up the author’s use of the words “well-meaning teacher”. A poignant question was asked –Would the story have been interpreted differently had those 3 words not been there?

Good question! And my own answer is yes- absolutely. 

In one the many recent times I brought this story up and related it to a topic that was being discussed, the idea of being a third-party observer came to mind. The third party (reader) could discern that the teacher’s well-meaning intention does change the nature of the story. But that cannot necessarily be seen if you are a character in the story. 

I would like to say that in the past I looked at all perspectives and intents neutrally; but that wouldn’t be an honest assessment if I am honest with myself.

I know I always intended to do this. I know often I tried to put myself in the other person’s shoes. I know sometimes (more rarely) I did try to imagine I was writing a position paper and imagined how one could argue both sides. But those were for touchy issues. In my everyday life while communicating I assumed I understood and was being understood. Something about this story of the teachers flipped that assumption for me. 

Recently I have been looking at all communication with the assumption that I probably don’t understand and I’m probably not being understood. 

In the end what does this all mean? Well, that we need to pay attention more to what we are saying and how we are listening.

Soooooo….. at this point I could imagine one saying 

“That sounds complicated Esterina, I don’t have time or patience to think about everything I am about to say or think about what you mean!”

… and I can’t really disagree. What I am describing takes mental work and a little time that I didn’t apportion to it before. 

But the more I think about it, the more important I realize this is necessary and worth the effort. It’s an investment into saving time, building trust, and fostering peace. 

This next part might sound divergent from the topic, but it’s not particularly.

Over this last summer I did something I have been meaning to do for years. I changed my political affiliation to “unaffiliated”. I came to the realization that I don’t think the left and the right are that different in thoughts. Neither want school shootings to go on, unwanted pregnancies and subsequent babies, or to be hated because of what they look like or who they love. Small snippets, barbs and banners like “baby killer” or “2nd amendment” do not do justice to the complex topics and the varying ways they can be resolved that the majority of people who don’t reside on far left/right spectrums could find a solution to. We are all so distracted by extremes and categorizing, and are so busy and sure of ourselves that we aren’t taking the time to think anything through.

Aligning and dividing is the quick solution. These divisions are based on assumptions of what you think the other party’s intention is.

What I am describing is a human and natural response. But it doesn’t make it morally right. And it certainly doesn’t foster peace. 

Not many people are listening with the intent to hear. We were not really taught anywhere how to listen. 

It is mental work to consider the ways in which your words might have different meanings to someone listening. 

It’s even more difficult to consider a point of view you don’t like. Or be open to changing your mind. Or to stay put and engaged when a topic makes you uneasy. 

But I will argue that it’s wrong to run away, ignore, retort back without thinking through how your words could be interpreted and it’s certainly not helpful to not consider the filters and paradigms you operate in.

How could you not want to do this work and then wonder why we don’t have world peace? 

This short story about the teacher goes deeper for me, in that we frequently get so caught up in what we think are other’s intentions and agendas, we often miss the opportunity to have a rich discussion about the topic at hand.  

What was not discussed in my group or even here in the blog was the whole intention of this poor fictional teacher’s message about how emotions come and go like weather. What an awesome and very true analogy! And the irony of how the very message about emotions was neglected because of you guessed it- emotions…. 

I could go on… I could always go on, but I will stop and end with one more note to possibly consider.

It’s a new year. I gave up on New Year’s Resolutions a while ago. But I will never give up on wanting to be a better human and leaving the space I took up in the world better than I found it. If you don’t want to make New Year’s Resolutions but want to consider something to work on, perhaps contemplate how you might remove yourself from the stories you find yourself in and imagine being the reader of that story who is able to see and reflect on the full picture. And perhaps think about that monk’s message too, the one that got lost in all this the next time you sense a storm…

Happy New Year

On Coming Full Circle

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

If you haven’t read The Alchemist (spoiler alert: skip to the next paragraph if you ever plan to and don’t want to know how it ends) and grasped the true meaning, it speaks to how you can travel the world, be rich, be poor, and experience everything life can possibly offer, but you will not find what you are looking for until you look right where you are. In essence the treasure we seek is within.

Last night I came back from a 28-hour marathon trip from Westhampton Beach, NY, across the Long Island sound via Port Jefferson to Connecticut, to Branford/Rhode Island/Branford/Rhode Island and back across the sound on the east end of LI via Orient Point to drive back to where I started from. I went in a large circle.

While having a quick take-out dinner I grabbed earlier in the day on the Cross Sound Ferry yesterday evening, I suddenly felt the urge to MOVE. I had been in the car or in a tight crammed space for more than a day and felt like I HAD to break free.

But there was almost nowhere to go…

So I walked. And walked. And walked.

I walked  around and around in circles on the ferry. The wind was warm. Breezier in some parts than others. I breathed it all in deeply. The sun was setting.  

I passed the same people many times. People mostly doing the same things, on their phones with a handful engaged with another. I walked past them over and over in my own reverie as the ship moved forward from one destination to the next.

Something about this felt symbolic. Many remain in one spot, or like I was doing, going around and around in circles as we are carted ahead by life via a man-made creation known as time.

Once the ferry arrived and I began the drive from the east end, it all felt so very familiar. The dark. The long winding roads. Infrequently passing other cars as I skirted my eyes toward the right to where the white line meets the end of the road – as I was taught in Defensive Driving when I was 16.

I felt like I was that age again. Driving familiar roads. Some of the same roads I had driven then. The landscape of the road, the lining of the trees against the night sky, the warm summer air, the cicadas, and the crickets. All my senses were highly engaged. I was so present and aware of the present and the connection to the past.

The radio was on and connected to my iPhone. I was listening to Angels and Airwaves. I looked at the name of the album’s words that lit up on my car’s navigation display.

Stomping the Phantom Brake Pedal

I only just noticed what those words mean.

Has my life just gone on until now while I went in circles?

I spent my entire adulthood on a path away from where I grew up.

The first 16 years or so were quite lovely. I put trauma behind and made a life for myself. One that I was proud of. But a divorce and what should have been a happier ending threw me into a tailspin. I was suddenly looking for something. And to make what could be a very long story short, I unearthed trauma that was still lingering and the last 13 years have been about discovery and healing.

But I stayed away from home.

My current husband grew up a mere 7 miles as the crow flies from the place I attempted to escape and was driving toward last night. I’ve visited his hometown for years while skirting around my own. I never really went back mentally or physically.

Then a few weeks ago on a whim I decided to stop in my own hometown on the way past it. I was alone. I had time. I suddenly wanted to see it.

To my wonder I felt nostalgia. Something I never imagined I would feel. The feeling came on quickly, without warning. It hurt because it felt unfamiliar. Yet it was very happy, and at the same time very sad. A mix of emotion that only nostalgia unearth.

A few days later I realized I could love and dislike the past equally. It’s not all or nothing.

The feeling of suddenly being open to seeing the good of the past felt so free.  It was a band aid that had been on for so long that when it came off, that part of me felt exposed and unfamiliar – yet amazing. In the same way skin under tape would feel when exposed once again to the sun. Cautious, but so warm and dare I say inviting?

I let that all marinate for a few weeks and carried on with this temporarily homeless existence my husband and I have been living in since our home has been under construction in June.

And here I was last night coming back to where I started the prior day and literally close to  where my adulthood journey began.

The song Reel 1 (Diary) was playing. A song that starts out so quietly you need to strain to hear it. It ramps slowly over the next 5 minutes up to a beautiful crescendo so intense that the moment the lyrics break the invisible audible barrier, you can almost feel your body release with the musical vibration –    

Reel 1 (Diary) Lyrics

Breathe

Open up the air flow

Taking in a ray of light

Stretch across the long coast

Falling back on past time

Sleeping in the wallow

Crying and shivering

Hunting for your sorrow

Bending down to hold it

Shiver like a young child

Scatters like a serpent

Killing off your habit

Take me as your servant

Take me as your weapon

Take me as your courage

Take me as your servant

Take me as your servant

Take me as your servant

I suddenly want to break out. Not so dissimilar to the feeling I had on the ferry earlier.

What I am looking for has always been with me like in The Alchemist. I know this intellectually. However, it seems difficult to access most of the time.

Last night that portal was wide open.

I wanted to be where I was. In the flow. In the perfect moment always, like the spiritual teachings of all shapes, sizes and religions teach us. We are always where we are supposed to be.

If we let go of our imaginary steering wheel and embrace what God/Brahma/The Universe has in store for us, we will truly be able to enjoy the ride.

Maybe my purpose this morning is to write about this. To scream from the rooftops (in the modern world from behind a computer) that you can Stomp on the Phantom Brake Pedal, out of stand stills or ruts you find yourself, and exterminate habits that stop you from being the fullest expression of yourself.

I feel it now at this very moment. I know I will forget it quite soon and carry on with my day and my life very much as I always have, but perhaps a smidgen more enlightened.

It’s all these little “smidges” of becoming more aware that lead to peace and flow. That is the only path “forward”.

Perhaps forward is really upward?

Perhaps we can stay where we are in that same physical place, the same rut, but use the brake to find true freedom in knowing that there is always a very special treasure within.

That treasure is inner freedom and peace.  

On Your Hometown

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I read a lot. When I veg out alone with the TV, I often watch documentaries. I don’t really know how I find these things (Amazon, Netflix, Kindle, etc have me pegged as a certain type I guess); but what I do know is that there are common themes. Mostly ones that would apply to a middle-aged woman.

One of the common themes is a main character who left their hometown after high school graduation and never looked back. In my books/shows that person is usually drawn back for some innocuous reason like a wedding or funeral, and  then find themselves entangled in stories, immersed in the past, and unraveling a mystery in which they are the hero or heroine of the story.

In the end they come back to their town.

I watch with intrigue but never imagined ever wanting to go back to my hometown. For the record I still don’t, but for the first time in my life this last weekend – I was intrigued by visiting and putting my toe in what always seemed like a waste of time to dabble in.

Like the characters in my stories there is an element of a painful past I’d rather escape. But in the mix are really, amazing happy memories too.

I’ve struggled with that.

It’s only in the past few years as I’m inching up to the age of 50 that I can see the value in looking upon the past as just what it was. It doesn’t have to be all bad in my mind as my brain probably made it out to be in order to cope and not get sucked back it. It’s a healthy reaction to trauma.

But truth be told, I had far more good times than bad. And it’s only now that I feel healthy enough to look at it all without negative emotion clouding all the good memories.

I lived in Brooklyn until I was 12, but those 6 real formulative years where you transition from child to adult I spent in Long Island in a small town often nicknamed “Mistake Beach”.

For good or bad, it is a large part of what made me who I am. There is nothing wrong with embracing what is and loving it all as part of life.

I have  been thinking about my hometown all week and today put together a little video.

I truly feel like I am in a place that I love every good and bad place I’ve ever been, any good or bad thing that ever happened to me or that I did. Because it all brought me to here where self-inquiry and self-reflection have a meaningful place with 47 years of experience to draw upon to be a better and healthier person for the second half of my life.

I’m grateful for all of it. Today in particular I’m grateful for Mastic Beach – my Hometown. No more hiding from the past.

On Making your Bed

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I am told a good life starts in the morning with making your bed. 

Do you make your bed? 

I’ve heard all reasons of why folks do or don’t make their bed. It is a personal decision. But research shows that people who make their bed are more successful, productive and happier. 

I make my bed. I feel energetically better when I do. The room appears neater and I don’t feel schlepy when I crawl back in it at night. 

I have also heard people say “why bother?”, it’s only going to get messy again. 

There is truth to that. But your body will also get dirty after you shower. Most of us don’t skip showers for that reason. 

A lot of people tell me they don’t do yoga or meditate because they aren’t flexible or their minds don’t work that way or they aren’t flexible enough. A funny line in the yoga world is: 

“Saying you don’t do yoga because you aren’t flexible is like saying you are too dirty to take a shower”.

Taking it a step closer would be to say that you are too out of shape to exercise.

I hate to break it to you – we are all the same. Our bodies and minds need maintenance and when we don’t maintain them we have a monkey mind and we get out of shape. It’s really that simple. Yes there are exceptions but almost all of them can be overcome. 

We can skip cleaning our spaces and making our beds (or weeding our gardens- literally and metaphorically)- but while we are at it, why not skip that shower too? And why bother to exercise? Won’t we become atrophic again when we stop?

To live is to maintain. To live well is to maintain everything about our lives. Our health, our habits, our homes, our finances, our pets… and even our minds. They can all go to pot if we skip the maintenance and loose sight of their health. 

Yes- this takes up a lot of the day, but it’s worth the clean and cleared space because what you see around you directly affects what you feel inside you. You can feel it in your energy if you quiet your mind and get in touch with it. 

So make your bed and see if anything changes around you. 

Namaste 

“If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed. This is perhaps the most famous line from Making your bed to perfection each morning is a reminder that if you do the little things right, it makes the big things possible.”

Admiral McRaven

https://www.sec.gov/news/speech/miller-translate-military-lessons-entrepreneurship#:~:text=If%20you%20want%20to%20change,makes%20the%20big%20things%20possible.

On Wiggle Room

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This week I attended a work conference on business fundamentals in healthcare. This slide came up and I thought to myself- “What the Devil?”

The speaker explained how when our cup is 75% full, it looks and feels pretty full. We can take that cup and walk around fairly comfortably. The water can slosh a bit without spilling over.

A totally full glass on the other hand not only feels full, but requires us to walk around on high alert with caution. The odds for even the most deft among us is to have a spill or two on the way from one destination to another.  

The water glass slides it turns out is about how full a Primary Care Provider’s panel should be. My mind instantly drew the relation to life. 

A few slides later is this one… 

Why do we need an upper limit if we aren’t going to make that the gold standard? 

It is for the same reason we don’t keep our heart at max capacity. The limit is there emergencies to keep us alive and afloat. It’s not an aim, it’s a safety measure. 

So why do we routinely schedule the last possible flight home? Fill our week with an event every night? Or permeate our kid’s schedules with enriching activities every free possible minute? 

At what point in history did we lose the knowledge that full to the brim is better than wiggle room or you are a slacker?

Another analogy I love is what we called the “Jiggle Jar”.

The first time I saw this jar demonstration was is when I began yoga teacher training. I’m sure I rolled my eyes with these fru fru yogis demonstrating visuals like business people do. The jar is filled with water and mud. The premise is that when you are still your mind is clear and we are able to see well. When you are running around or getting bumped from the outside it stirs up the muck and clarity cannot exist.

Of course it makes sense. But it wasn’t until a few weeks into teacher training when I felt a relaxed sense of mind on a regular basis that I was unable to tolerate being riled up any longer. 

I had been the frog that was initially put in tepid water and the temp turned up so slowly that I didn’t realize that it was nearly boiling. Vacillating my mind between tepid and boiling made the anxiety disorder I didn’t know I already had unleash to where I was non-functional. 

Just like the frog if you moved it from a near boiling state back to tepid water. That frog may have been quiet and happy while nearly boiling to death, but it would scream and fight once it was tossed back to immense heat from something comfortably warm.

While it was my home life that was out of control, without leaving my husband and kids in a lurch; the only control I had over my life at that time was leaving my job as a Strategic Planner and taking a part time lower GS pay level job. 

It was the best decision I ever made. 

It’s the wiggle room that makes the difference between life and death, tolerable and intolerable, sanity and insanity, and even a safe panel size for a patient and provider vs one that is at maximum capacity and bound to have accidents like water sloshing out of a cup. We don’t want those water droplets to be any patients or pieces of our provider’s state of mind. 

In the jiggle jar analogy we need to see that it’s not possible to bump into anything or anyone when we create space in our schedule- and totally related- our mind. 

Wiggle room is what saves us. It should be as important or dare I say even more important as our most important regularly scheduled appointment. 

Like the temperature gauge only someone on the outside can read as the frog’s heat is being turned up, our schedule may be the only gauge we have. We can’t walk around forever with a full cup. One false move or someone else with no wiggle room or a full cup will bump into us and inevitably create undesirable results. 

If you are feeling the heat, turn it down and create space. No matter how important everything else seems, it will all be figuratively dead in the water when you are no longer around to keep it all going.

Choose wisely! Namaste

On Minors and Gender Issues

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I’m not a bigot in any way. I feel alive and love when people are who they are inherently. I can tell when they are being something other than themselves and it bothers me because it feels inauthentic.

I am ecstatic to live in a period of time where you can love anyone who you connect with openly and free. Maybe we aren’t completely there yet, but we are way closer than we have ever been in history. And we continue to progress everyday.

In this time period there is also a controversy over medical care and human rights. Particularly gender dysphoria. This part I don’t understand. 

Regardless of any health issue that arises, we should always try the least invasive solutions before diving into something unknown or irreversible. It’s not only the right thing for our bodies, it’s socially responsible for the cost of healthcare. 

To be clear I am not opposed to any kind of lifestyle and/or partner of any possible combination. 

And if there is no other solution one tries for being comfortable in your skin other than modifying your body with surgery or medicine, then I support whatever it takes to ensure that we are comfortable expressing ourselves as who we are.

To be clear however, I am opposed to this as a first solution or any solution for minors. Particularly for minors. 



I just don’t get what the controversy is about on gender altering for minors. 

Why can’t we buy cigarettes until the age of 21? 

We’ve made this restriction because we believe says we aren’t wise enough to make the decision to do something potentially harmful to our bodies. We KNOW it’s harmful and a risk. My mom died of lung cancer at the age of 49 from smoking. It’s bad for us. But there are people who live well into their 90s smoking everyday and don’t pass from smoking issues. It’s a risk. 

Same with 21 as the age limit for alcohol and in states where it’s legal – Marijuana. Risks.  Being old enough to decide to take the risk. Alcoholism runs in my family. I myself need to stay dry because it affects me in very negative ways. 

What about car and vacation home rentals? Many have age limits of 25. No one is arguing with these. Young people in general are a risk for so many reasons. Too many to list. Most of the time it has to do with making decisions that as you get older you wouldn’t otherwise take.

Why can’t we vote until the age of 18? Or even get a tattoo? Or enlist in the military? Because our brains are not yet developed and we aren’t yet wise or experienced enough to think things through or make major decisions.

These age limits are universal. As you get older you can rationalize more clearly, understand your emotions and make better decisions than a 16 year old may.

We have a legal obligation to our children until the age of 18. An obligation to protect them, not just cater to their wishes. We don’t cater to them because they are not old enough to know their own minds yet. We should absolutely support and let them try out things they would like to explore. But I would draw the line at permanent body changes. Using the line “but I know my child” is not possible because if the child isn’t old enough by every law to even vote, they can’t know their own mind- so how could a parent?  

Related, but unrelated…. Weight loss surgery. Pediatric weight loss surgery is not common. It happens but it is uncommon. There are strict prerequisites for it. Those prerequisites are family support/community in place, the requirement that all other medically supervised diets and exercises have failed over the course of 6 months to a year, and mental health pre-op. Plus – the adolescent has to have a BMI of 40 or more. 

Even grown adults have these guidelines. 

So I have to ask why is it controversial to put an age limit on gender altering drugs and surgeries? 

These children cannot even vote, let alone buy a cigarette. We all agree they are not old enough to make decisions good for them or society, so why is it so controversial that they wait until at least the age of 18?

Why are we scared that adult rights are being taken away when we put parameters in place to limit gender altering drugs/surgeries on adults too? Parameters like medically supervised alternatives first and the requirement for emotional support and counseling, before and after? How different is it from bariatric surgery? 

I think these are important considerations and that law makers are being responsible with our healthcare dollars by putting these laws in place. Children are not able to vote or buy mind altering substances for a reason. So why are we even having the discussion about body altering? 

I’m not a bigot. I am just asking. We need to be able to ask questions without being seen as a bigot. 

Enlighten me so I can help support positive societal change too.