On Being a Federal Government Employee: Fork in the Road

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

April 27th, 2025.

As I sit here on the Metro North Railroad next to my husband on this very sunny, very windy Sunday, late April morning, I’m filled with wanderlust and a sense of possibility. As we speed by I notice trees, mountains, houses, cars, waterways, docks… so many ways of living and modes of travel.  

The subway this morning, leaving New York City, back home to Connecticut

My heart aches to experience it all. I sit and watch, feeling stuck where I am; on a moving train that is going too fast. I am unable to really see, experience or touch any of it.  Destination known.

I marvel at how at any stop I could really get off. How I could take another train to another destination and experience something new. I could…. Why don’t I? Why haven’t I?  

I am a government employee.

A Fork in the Road.  

That is the title now infamous email sent to government employees on January 28th. It quite possibly could open doors, new roads, endless possibilities. However, the doors and possibilities are soured by the ruthless ways civil servants have been discussed in the past few months. 

I am government employee with a possibility of taking early retirement. I am 49 and was not planning to retire for a while. But the possibility cannot stop lingering on my mind. I want to see the world! I want to get out from under the grind, off the crazy train. The past few years, but particularly the past few months have dampened the passion of flames I once had for work. It was long burning down, but the new administration has left but the smallest of sparks still attempting to burn.    

I have given my entire adult life to the United States government. At 18 I went into the Coast Guard. At 22, I continued into the active reserve pool and became a weekend warrior while raising two babies. At 26, I became a civil servant where I have worked ever since. 

I’ve been on a train, on the path set out by many. Get an education, get a job, start a family, get the bigger house…. 

In the past 31 years with very little help from the supposedly educational funds and benefits that tempted me into the military in the first place I obtained a Professional Secretarial Certification, a Bachelors in Business Administration, an MBA, and a certification Healthcare Analytics. 

There were countless other trainings I took through work or on my own. Regardless of where I took these trainings, I immediately gave everything I learned back to the government through my work. Up to and including teaching yoga. 

I chose the government  because like many undiscussed Americans, particularly second generation Americans, I grew up not have basic securities met. We always had food, though food security was something my parents often struggled with. There were enough clothes and enough help to feel ok. We did not have healthcare and my parents did not have jobs with paid vacation or sick time. Retirement is still out of the question for my 74 year old father. My mother passed away at 49, in part to smoking; but more in part to not having access to healthcare. 

I chose the military for the benefits. Paid education, vacation days, and healthcare. The military also seemed as if it were fair and just, that there were rules that had to be followed and consequences for breaking those rules. My home seemed to be a place where there were no consequences and no rights for women or children. As a teenager with looming uncertainty of my future, the military recruiters at the tables stationed around my high school looked healthy, happy and secure in themselves. I wanted that for myself too. 

I still don’t know if recruiters purposely mislead or they themselves do not know, but many of the things I was told were only partial truths. Healthcare is not for life unless you are destitute once you separate from the armed forces. The Montogomery GI Bill hardly paid for a semester let alone an education. I was not able to apply for specialty school right out of bootcamp as an E-3, a benefit I personally took advantage of because I had spent 3 years in junior ROTC. The immediate bump from E-2 to E-3  wasn’t a huge benefit, but the one that likely made what was a tough decision at the time for me. A decision that ended up being a very good one for my life.

Swearing into the United States Military at MEMPS in Brooklyn NY August 9, 1994

From that time, and into my career, and until this very day; there were spouted benefits. Benefits that lured me in, but were not what they seemed to be. Benefits that few who are the gatekeepers to obtaining these benefits even seem to know about. 

My earliest experience was the lack of knowledge at my first duty station on being an E-3. Then seemingly gregarious barriers to putting my name on a wait list for specialty school. I did everything I was supposed to as quickly and efficiently as I could. It seemed to surprise people that I had the oomph to push through the barriers and keep pressing until I got the answers I was seeking. It seemed unnecessarily difficult, but that was only the start of many years ahead of pretty much the same. 

I met and married my first husband who was also in the military at the age of 19. We had no plans of having children anytime soon, but I did know about the benefit to females of taking two years off to raise a child and coming back to finish any required time that was owed to the government. 

When my husband and I were re-located and co-located from the west to east coast, the new dispensary that I was assigned did not carry the birth control pill I had been on for years. I was prescribed a new pill and immediately experienced unwanted side effects.  When I went to the dispensary to discuss these issues; they took some bloodwork to ensure I was not pregnant, prescribed a new type of pill, and asked me to not take any pills until my next cycle. 

My newlywed husband and I were careful, but obviously not careful enough because I never did start that next cycle. I was unintentionally pregnant at 20 years old. My new duty station (which was for the first time in my career on land [opposed to on ship]) helped me to apply for the two year program to raise a child. The administrators and I could not foresee my request being denied because I owed 2 exactly two years and my husband was also a service member. 

The request was denied without an explanation. We were flabbergasted. The men and their wives at my at my station were so supportive and helped me and my husband with taking care of our newborn child. I will forever be grateful for the rallying and support provided. 

October 1996, pregnant with my first born
My baby Thomas at just over a year old with his daddy

Two years later my owed time was up and I had the option to reenlist. For the majority of non-Air station based jobs, most Coast Guard members were required to be stationed on a ship alternating with land stations. Unless they specifically wanted to be on ship duty or if circumstances called, folks were allowed to be stationed on land for back to back tours. 

The military does married couples the honor of trying to station couples together or close by. My husband’s tour was also up. His job required him to be at an Air station which were far and few between. Air stations at the time also required a 1 in every 3 or 1 in every 4 evening overnight obligation. My job as a cook was one of the few jobs in the Coast Guard that did not require overnight stays at all. It was the only way we were able to get by raising our son until that point. That and the help from the members of my station. 

Service members have some input on where they would like to go by filling out what was referred to as a “Dream Sheet”. We filled out our dreams sheets and requested to go anywhere in the world as long as I could be stationed at a land station nearby an Air station so I could be home every evening with our son. It should not have come as a surprise when this reasonable request was denied. Yet it was a surprise and felt like a blow. 

The Commanding and Executive Officers who were fond of my hard work, impressed that I finished a secretarial certificate and was taking college classes, and who were already upset from the denial for the maternity leave I asked for were also infuriated. The Commanding Officer (unprompted) wrote a letter asking for my request to be reconsidered because he felt I was just the kind of person that the Coast Guard should want to keep. He received a response back saying that it was my turn to go on a boat and if I didn’t like it, I did not have to re-enlist. 

I did not reenlist.

I enlisted into the Active Reserves for four years instead. My husband stayed in and I became a military spouse. We had another baby and I finished my bachelor degree. 

Four years later in 2002, both my husband and I had completed all required obligations to the military. It was not long after 9/11 and we decided to take a plunge into the civilian world. 

Finding work in your twenties hot out of the military with little other work experience and family obligations is not easy. I was interested in federal employment because of the benefits and pension.

I applied to dozens of government and private sector positions. It took about 6 months to find a temporary grant funded government position.

During my first few years as a civil servant I applied for the programs and leadership trainings that were available, but I was denied participation because I was not a permanent employee. I went back to school (out of pocket) while working full time and raising 2 children for an MBA. 

I used the information I was learning in school and my personal drive constantly to make my job, my role, and in turn my organization a better place. In 2007 I finished my Masters degree and landed a full time permanent position. About 5 minutes later I was asked to teach and mentor students in the programs I had never taken and had been denied access to. I was not snarly or punishing because I paid for and took my own initiative to learn what they denied me access to. I excitedly obliged because I wanted to provide my organization with the passion and knowledge I myself wanted to share. 

MBA graduation in 2007

I cannot believe that was 18 years ago. Since then I’ve learned even more. In my journey as a government employee I’ve changed as a human, but maintained exceptional performance reviews for every single rating period for 31 years without fail. I have given the government every piece of knowledge I learned, and for many many years, many more hours than I was ever paid for. 

I have since been divorced and remarried. My children have grown and left the nest. I’ve taken many other trainings at work and outside of work. I trudged a personal journey of experiencing C-PTSD from childhood which involved drinking, recovery and a lot of therapy.

Very typical office set up I had (back in the days I had an office that is)
At my ‘hands down’ favorite position I held in Primary Care
Screenshot
Group of lady work friends I had for many years

I’ve been on the path. I was not planning to retire now. I have more to give. But do I want to give it to the government anymore??? 

My heart has not  been in it a while. And the current administration seems to admonish and mock employees like myself. 

Until this very day I am dealing with “benefits” unknown to those who are the gatekeepers. My latest escapade involves healthcare. I have been paying for health insurance for a family through the Federal Employee Health Benefits (FEHB) since 2002. A few years ago while I was undergoing intensive outpatient therapy I was part-time and we used my husband’s insurance because the employee share for part-timers is unaffordable. We switched back to my insurance over 4 years ago, but the government has a stipulation that upon retirement in order to keep the FEHB for life, you have to have paid FEHB for the 5 consecutive years prior to retirement. 

This is what stopped me from Taking the Fork in the Road back in January. Healthcare. One of the very reasons I entered into the federal workforce 31 years ago. The lack of which (healthcare) I attribute to my mom passing at 49 years old. The very age I happen to be at the moment.

The only time I did not pay for healthcare was for the short period of time I shortened my work hours to deal with mental health issues.

Most veterans have mental health issues. Most individuals enter the military because the benefits outweigh the personal risks. Most individuals who join at a young age do not have many other options. Those lack of options, lack, limit = mental health issues that if not already experiencing, will likely show up later in life when the dust has settled. Like it did for me.

Back in January when the Fork in the Road email was sent, I read all over the place in OPM guidance and other government sources that under VERA authority (when early retirement is being offered) the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) waives this 5 year healthcare payment requirement. I asked about it at the time. No one has ever heard of it. Of course they haven’t. I’ve been down this sad road before. Benefits that are there but unknown or in some way inaccessible.

My Department is offering VERA again due to impending RIFs (Reduction in Force) and this time it specifically states that OPM is waiving the 5-year requirement. 

Why am I still here? What do I have to gain? 

I think I want to get off the train. I watch the world literally and proverbially whizzing by. A world I long to see and experience. 

I am not one of these mystery civil servants you hear on the news. One of these lazy people who is just taking from the population and needs their job to be cut with a sledge hammer. I gave the government more than I gained from it. I know my job can be involuntary cut in a few weeks. If I get to keep a job at all, there is no guarantee it will be at my salary level or that I enjoy. 

Yes, there is waste in the government. There is waste in all organizations. The fairness I had been seeking when entering the federal workforce is not on everyone’s side. As employees under the rule of the law, we are mostly indistinguishable from one another. All kind of being lumped in with the bath water that our administration wants to throw out.

As I reflect on my journey, I realize that my experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. The highs and lows, the challenges and triumphs, have all contributed to my growth and resilience. While the uncertainty of early retirement looms, I am filled with hope and possibility. I am ready to embrace change and explore new horizons. My dedication to public service has been unwavering, and I am proud of the contributions I have made. As I contemplate the next chapter of my life, I am reminded that there is so much more of me to give. The world is full of opportunities, and I am eager to seize them. 

 

Last photo I have with my mom (far left)

 

Journey Through the Self: Exploring the Five Koshas in Yoga

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

“Yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self.”
– Bhagavad Gita

In the ancient Vedic texts, we find a beautiful framework for understanding the self beyond the physical body. Known as the Panchamaya Kosha system, this five-layered model is still embraced by yoga therapists today as a holistic map for healing and self-discovery.

Each kosha, or “sheath,” represents a different layer of our being—from the tangible to the most subtle essence of who we are. These sheaths are energetic in nature.

Since this is a conceptual idea, it’s not easily visualized. This is an artistic rendition I created, using inspiration from search engines, to give the model a visual form.

Let’s take a guided journey through each layer, pausing along the way to reflect, breathe, and connect.

Annamaya Kosha: The Physical Body

The outermost layer is the Annamaya Kosha, often referred to as the “food body.” Annamaya derives from the words anna (food) and maya (made of), signifying that the body is composed of physical matter sustained by food. It is the densest of the five koshas and the layer most familiar to us—the physical body that we see and touch.

According to the Bhagavad Gita, it is the body that allows us to engage with the material world and fulfill our physical needs.

Yoga asana (postures) help us strengthen and care for this layer. But it’s only the beginning.

Beyond our physical body exists a subtler, more energetic presence—what the yogis call the life force or prana. This leads us to the next kosha: Pranamaya Kosha.

Pranamaya Kosha – The Breath or Energy Body

Beneath the surface of what we see and touch lies a subtler layer of our being—the Pranamaya Kosha, or breath body. This sheath is composed of prana, the vital life energy that flows through and animates us. It is this energy that sustains every physical and mental function. It’s not too dissimilar to “chi,” as known in Chinese traditions.

This kosha both surrounds and penetrates the Annamaya Kosha, flowing through subtle channels known as nadis—akin to the meridians in Traditional Chinese Medicine. Ancient texts speak of nearly 72,000 nadis crisscrossing our being, creating an intricate web of energy distribution as sophisticated as our physical body.

It is said that when this energetic layer is vibrant and balanced, it manifests as vitality, clarity, and resilience. An imbalanced or blocked pranic flow, on the other hand, can lead to physical fatigue, emotional disturbances, or even illness.

Because prana is intimately tied to the breath, pranayama (breath control) becomes a key yogic tool to nourish and regulate this sheath. Practices such as deep diaphragmatic breathing, alternate nostril breathing (nadi shodhana), and kapalabhati invigorate and purify the Pranamaya Kosha, enhancing the flow of energy throughout the body.

Breath becomes the bridge between the body and the mind. As you become more aware of your breath, you tap into the present moment, calming the nervous system and centering the mind.

Manomaya Kosha: The Mental Sheath

The Manomaya Kosha is the “mental sheath,” representing the mind and emotions. It is associated with our thoughts, feelings, and mental patterns, known in Sanskrit as vrittis. This kosha encompasses the mental body—our emotional responses, internal dialogue, and perceptions of the world.

As one of the more subtle layers of our being, the Manomaya Kosha significantly influences how we interpret experiences and impacts our overall well-being. The mind shapes our interactions with the world and colors our experiences with judgment, attachment, and preference.

Cultivating mindfulness is key to mastering this sheath. By learning to observe our thoughts without attachment, we can begin to detach from mental chatter and emotional turbulence. Meditation is a powerful tool for calming the mind and finding inner stillness.

🧘‍♂️ Practice Tip: Let your thoughts come and go without judgment. Be the observer, not the story.

Vijnanamaya Kosha – The Wisdom Body

This kosha is the intellectual or wisdom sheath, housing our intuition, discernment, and inner knowing. It’s the layer of deep insight that enables us to distinguish truth from illusion, and ego from the true Self.

“Listen beyond your thoughts to the quiet wisdom within.”

This sheath transcends ordinary thinking. It’s where we connect with spiritual insight and our inner compass, guiding us toward Svadharma—our true calling.

This kosha is about deep understanding—not just of the world, but of our true nature.

Last night I taught a class and went through this exercise to describe what the 3rd and 4th kosha might look like.

Close your eyes and picture a bright red triangle.
Where did it come from? Your thoughts created it, but it isn’t real. I suggested it, but the image itself is imaginary.
Now ask: Who is seeing that triangle?
It’s not your thoughts—they made it. The one seeing it is the witness. That part of you is real. It watches your thoughts come and go without being them.

The red triangle will fade with the next thought, but the witness remains. It observes what arises—whether from outside influence, subconscious memory, or your own deeper wisdom.

Now, imagine that red triangle turning into a dark purple circle.
Who made that change? Who watched it happen?

This is the heart of self-awareness: You are not your thoughts.
Thoughts pass through like weather. But if you’re not aware, they shape your emotions, breath, and even your body.


The wisdom body discerns the difference between the thoughts and emotions (Manomaya Kosha) and the witness who is unaffected by the thoughts (next kosha). However, your thoughts and emotions do affect your breath and ultimately your physical body. So mind your thoughts!

Anandamaya Kosha – The Bliss Body

At the center of all the koshas lies the Anandamaya Kosha, known as the “bliss body.” This is the most subtle and innermost layer of our being—beyond the physical, energetic, mental, and wisdom layers. It represents our pure essence, a state of peace, joy, and spiritual bliss.

This kosha isn’t shaped by thoughts, emotions, or material form. Instead, it is pure being—the unchanging, eternal part of us, often touched during deep meditation, savasana, or moments of transcendence in everyday life.

It embodies Sat-Chit-Ananda—existence, consciousness, and bliss—where the ego dissolves and unity with all of creation is felt. These aren’t fleeting emotions but deep, abiding joy and contentment, experienced when we are in perfect alignment with our true self.

Practices like meditation, mindfulness, and present-moment awareness help us access this layer. In yoga, it’s the ultimate experience—being one with the divine, at peace, beyond form.

You might even say this is Your Spirit. There’s another blog I wrote just a few weeks ago about this place: https://esterinaanderson.com/2025/02/12/on-your-spirit/

Integrating the Five Koshas

Yoga is not just about stretching our bodies—it’s about integrating all parts of our being: body, breath, mind, wisdom, and spirit. As we journey inward, we realize that these layers are not separate, but interwoven—each one informing and supporting the others.

By nurturing all five koshas, we move closer to our true Self—the eternal spark of consciousness that yoga ultimately helps us remember.

Namaste,

Esterina

On Your Spirit

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

There is a part of you that cannot die. 

Nothing can hurt it. 

It can’t hurt anyone else.

That part of you is incapable of judging. 

It’s unable to get riled up. 

It purely is a witness to the world around it. 

That part of you accepts life on life’s terms. 

That part of you is connected to everything else in the universe. 

It is part of the universal consciousness that just witnesses life as it unfolds. 

 

It’s not happy, sad, or in favor of anyone or anything. It has no ties to the outcome of a single thing. It just is. 

 

Content. Accepting. Peaceful

 

That part is your Everlasting Soul. 

 

It sounds like a creepy church thing (to me). But when I take a step back from those words I personally associate with creepy or religious, I realize that the Bible, the Torah, the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, Hinduism, Buddhism…. all say the same thing. All say we have a soul, spirit, or any word you care to use.

 

All these teachings tell us our soul is imperishable and connected to everything else in the universe. 

 

All these teachings tell us that we can tap into this part of ourselves through prayer, meditation or other forms of contemplation.

 

All these teachings promise that connecting with the deeper source helps us to tune out the noise of the outside world and experience bliss through complete peace. 

 

We all have access to this peace at any moment. Sometimes we find it by accident while walking, looking at a beautiful picture, listening to a piece of music, watching the birds, connecting with another human, or even in a yoga class. There is no right or wrong way to commune with Spirit.

 

What if we saw these great teachings as the allegories they were meant to be and listened to the common themes? 

 

There are so many common themes in these texts. The focus here is on the commonality of spirit and that all the scriptures tell us that our real essence(spirit/soul) simply cannot die. That part lives on past our body’s expiration. 

 

Consider this very special gift, that is not a secret, that every religion, mystic, sage, philosopher, and wisdom teacher has been telling us since the beginning of time. 

 

 

This all sounds lovely, but how is it applied to real life? What does it mean? 

 

Last week in the yoga classes I taught, I used a quote from the 13th century Sufi poet Rumi that says:

 

“There is a voice that doesn’t use words, listen” ~Rumi

 

I hear from so many people that they do not feel connected to a higher power and that something within them longs for it. They look in churches, synagogues, and books for the answers because it is where we have been taught to look.  

 

Personally I am not sure any religion has yet to nail down the perfect prescription for connecting to our souls, but they all have certainly tried and each in its own way has advised us to look no further than within. 

 

“What you seek is seeking you” ~Rumi

 

I can sometimes find this inner peace. In my personal experience I am unable to connect to the spirituality I’m seeking through my brain on an intellectual level. I connect when I shut down thinking and just allow myself to be. 

 

These connections can take place through prayer or meditation. The key is to turn off the non-stop chatterbox voice in your head. The voice that is generated from the brain. 

 

Your spirit is not the voice you hear. The voice is not the real you, the real you is what is hearing that voice. Your spirit is observing the internal noise of that voice and the external world around you. 

 

You are not the angel or devil on your shoulder who are arguing back and forth, justifying a decision or trying to be right. You are the witness listening to these internal dialogues. 

 

The witness is not biased one way or another. The witness just exists. Without judgement or attachment to any kind of an outcome. 

 

We should tap in to recharge, gain perspective, and refuel. Feel the bliss and know that our essence will always be ok. 

 

Does this mean we just sit by and watch the wheels go round and round? I don’t know, but I do not think so. 

 

Religion and spiritual teachings ask us to tap in AND to use our human skills and abilities to do good things in the world.

 

We are not meant to sit completely idle.

 

We need to get off the mat or prie-dieu and do our work in the world. 

 

That work is to make the world a better place than we found it. The work involves using our skills and abilities to influence what we can around us in positive ways. The Serenity Prayer is a perfect guide to keeping that balance of  our circle of control, our circle of influence, where those circles end and where there is little or no control. 

 

Do not be discouraged by what you cannot change. Be the change you want to see. 

 

The strength to accept what can’t be changed,

The courage to change what you can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

 

 

When this is difficult to do, you can always tune back within: 

 

“There is a voice that doesn’t use words, listen” ~Rumi

 

 

And you know what else? This spirit within me – sees that same Spirit within you! 

 

Or as modern day multi-media artist Morgan Harper Nichols writes: “The same light you see in others is shining within you, too.”

 

It’s easier to recognize the spirit in others when you can access it yourself. 

 

Namaste 

 

 

 

 

 

On Gratitude and Self-Care

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Yesterday morning I woke up with that slightly confused feeling of not knowing momentarily where you are or who you are.

It took me a second to adjust. When I did, and I opened my eyes I saw the most beautiful sunrise coming up in my line of vision. I gently touched my husband’s back to wake him up so he could see this gorgeous spectacle outside the window in front of us as well.

We laid there a few minutes in complete silence watching the sun change the colors of the sky so very slowly. It was almost like an artist changing the canvas by mixing the colors they already had on there and making adjustments.

Daren and I have been on a road trip for nearly two weeks and changed locations quite a  bit. It was the first morning in this new place and this view was quite a lovely surprise.

We made our way downstairs to the coffee maker, not knowing how the coffee would turn out. We bumbled around the kitchen and sought to find the things we needed, things we we brought and items in the rental home. We weaved past one another like a well practiced symphony opening and closing cabinets, making do with the things we could find.

Another kitchen, another adjustment. The coffee and breakfast were ok. When it was time to clean up, the previously beautiful sun was at eye level and shining right into the main part of the house and kitchen sink. It was too bright to even see what I was doing. I actually went to find my hand bag to dig out my sunglasses to reach the sponge into the corners of the oddly square shaped pot I made oatmeal in to clean out the parts that were mushy and stuck in this weird pan. The previous evening when we arrived I had felt the opposite, like it was entirely too dark to see anything, no matter how many lights I put on. Both times what I perceived was the wrong level of light – either too much or too little, I felt mildly irritated.

We decided to throw on our shoes to take the dog for a walk and check out the area. I think both Daren and I were a bit disoriented. I went upstairs about 5 times and kept forgetting the same thing. I couldn’t remember where I put my hair tie. Daren couldn’t find his sunglasses. And the sunglasses were direly needed. He came out to walk with us without them.

Suddenly I was really irritated. The sun, the adjustment… the packing and unpacking.

I remembered a conversation I had with a coworker right before I left on vacation almost two weeks ago. She herself just came back from a 2 week vacation and said she thought two weeks was too long to be away. I waved off the thought. I love taking two weeks off and have done it numerous times.

But yesterday morning I knew exactly what she meant. Each of the lovely places (and one which was not lovely) we stayed at was a goldilocks experience in comparison to home where everything is just right. The bed, the height of TV, the shower pressure, the stove… yeah everything.

I missed being home.

My husband and I walked the 3.8 mile route we chose before leaving the house in near silence. I’m not sure we had stopped talking the entire trip, as we somehow have an endless reservoir of things to chat about, but I didn’t want to talk yesterday. I wasn’t feeling it.

I didn’t even know what I was really feeling other than I felt like I had had enough of vacationing. I really just wanted to be home. In my own kitchen, with our coffee maker, and our cats, and bed and shower… and all the creature comforts.

The silence helped me to just feel my emotions and I wondered why I felt like I had had enough.

What is wrong with me? Too much vacation? Is that possible??

I have been practicing how to notice my feelings for over a decade now and I’ve become much more competent after lots and lots and lots of trying to discern what is irking me and/or to come back to a good emotional place.

Yesterday on this walk as we strolled past the billionth cute General Store on this trip, I giggled to myself thinking about how Daren who never complains about anything said something to the effect of “How many lighthouses can we keep going to look at and walk around on their rocks?”. It wasn’t a question as much as an acknowledgement that we needed some time to do nothing and not see all there is to possibly see and cram in.

The lightness and humor I found in what he said was helped me to become grateful that we could do this. I was suddenly annoyed with myself for having been irritated. There are wars going on. People are living in fear. There is poverty. Who am I to feel annoyed by the sunlight in a well-stocked kitchen? Woe is poor me for too much packing and unpacking of our things we are lucky to have.

Then my guilt crept in. I don’t know how common it is, but I feel guilty often about not constantly doing something productive or helpful to the world. In some small way (no, if I’m honest with myself large way), I feel guilty for being able to do nothing except enjoy life for a little while.

So I asked myself why that is, which I actually didn’t have to think about – I knew the answer to it and it had to do with the gratefulness I had suddenly felt that I am on a beautiful walk in a Tuesday morning.

There is so much suffering and pain, hurt and meanness, coldness, depression, poverty… how can I just go about life and take pictures of beautiful things? Sleep in? Make new meals in new places? Dine out and try new foods? My dog has a better life than a lot of people. I have trouble reconciling this!

I try to do my part for the world and to make a difference in other peoples’ lives. But for some reason, I do not think it’s enough.

Is that my problem or is that A problem? I’m not sure.

So we kept walking and I kept thinking.

In the yoga classes I teach, I often highlight the importance of self-care. The importance of filling your own cup.

In the past two weeks I cannot tell you how often I thought or commented to my husband how much nature charges my soul. I’ve referenced video games – particularly the Legend of Zelda. Games where the character is low on “life” and goes to ponds and into the mountains to re-charge. They sit there and you can see on the screen the hearts or whatever symbol of the character’s strength build back up.

I’m not going to lie – I haven’t played video games in a serious way since the late 80’s/early 90’s so I cannot even be sure that is something that is done anymore. But it speaks to the importance of getting away from life; particularly in nature and “recharging”.

I began to reconcile my guilt with the thought of filling my cup. I remembered before I left how much I desperately felt I needed it. I also reconciled this guilt with learning about new things and trying new foods and thinking about new ways to help myself and others be the best version of ourselves in this crazy world. To be a part of helping to make it less crazy. Like the idea of video game characters even realizing they need to refuel before they can keep going out there on their adventures and slaying the “bad” things that threaten us all.

On the way back from walk we passed a house with “free” things in the front which I noticed on the way out, and I grabbed two wooden hanging art things that I envisioned painting onto them some of the photos I had taken. It made me excited to go back to our rental and chose some photos to work with, then to go back home and to paint these wooden treasures.

By the time we got back to the rental, Daren, Koji the dog and myself were winded and thirsty. Daren sat outside to cool off. Koji went to take a long drink, and I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch to capture some of my ideas. Minutes later I was fantasizing about our next vacation. I thought maybe we can take a long weekend to take a drive and then work remotely from a different place. I started looking at rental places in Upstate NY.

What is wrong with me??? I’m wanting to go home, but I’m already planning our next trip? I am guilty about having so much free, unproductive time, and now planning more.

I almost don’t understand myself, but I think I do. I love so many things. I love life. I also really really like my everyday life at home. When you like your job and family (most of the time); when you love your house, neighborhood, town, friends, hobbies, groups, etc.,  going home from vacation is awesome.

So why do I take vacations? Well – I love to travel too. I really love seeing new places. Imagining what it would be like to live in the dwellings in the locations where we visit. I love visiting new sites, hiking new woods, going to new grocery stores and getting outside to exercise in different places. I love it all. It helps me to miss and appreciate my everyday life too. As we pass homes for sale and I’m compelled to look them up – I am reminded that I love where I am. And most importantly, it recharges me.

I am in complete gratitude for everything around me. It is gratitude that helps put me back into perspective when I fall out of it. How dare I be grumpy about the not so perfect coffee maker? And how dare I feel guilty about doing things I love? I am grateful for that guilt. It helps me to remember that I’m lucky and that I should help others in any possible way that I can do so. Am I perfect at this? No – but I keep doing things and keep trying. If we all did our part to help the world be a better place, it would be a better place. The more I see of it, the more I love and want to protect it and the creatures in it.

I feel so lucky and blessed to love my life and to want to come home from a vacation to get back to it. My life at home is as full as my life on vacation. I remember long ago reading a passage on the importance of making every moment of your life fulfilling, so much so that the desire to retire or vacation while pleasant, is not what you are living for.

Not everyone loves the life they are living. I am very lucky to have that feeling. It’s not to be taken for granted for a single moment.

I am fully aware that this state can change at any moment and that it would be as normal and expected as never having been comfortable and in love with the things and people (and pets) around me.

So for now, for the moment I am thankful for the experience I am having in life. I will try to not feel guilty about it and to do my part to keep making the world a better place. And I will be thankful that time off brings me back to this very perspective of gratitude again and again.

Namaste

Pictured below are the two pieces of free things I picked up and hope to transform into something even more beautiful and meaningful.

On our Clothing Donations and Ghana Beaches

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

If you don’t know about the world wide problem of clothes on the Ghanian beaches, and have a moment, stop right here and just look up  “clothes in the ocean off Ghana” and choose images. What you will see is not an exaggeration. It’s real and it’s disturbing.

The clothes we give away to thrift or place in bins have the best of intentions coming from us. There are people who benefit and get their clothes from these places. But there are not enough people in the world who have clothing needs in comparison to the waste.

Back in 2017 my husband and I traveled to Africa for a few weeks on an overland Safari. Twice we passed through the town of Maun in Botswana. It was the only town with the smallest sign of stores and street vendors that we saw in the entire country. Do you know what they were mostly selling? Clothes. Clothes from first world countries that we buy and donate. Racks and racks upon streets and streets of our old clothes.

You would be hard pressed to meet anyone who hasn’t heard about the horrors of the clothing business and sweat shops. Even though it’s been about 20-30 years since I first heard about it, the problem only seems to be getting worse. More and more shops pop up with more and more humans ‘earning’ starvation level wages, being denied bathroom breaks and sick leave. What’s worse? Knowing this hasn’t helped me to remember to stop with the buying. I did start shopping consignment a few years ago, but it’s so tempting to keep buying cheap inexpensive items online when I need something and it shows up right at my door less than a day later.

But it doesn’t make it right.

Despite my own attempts to streamline and keep a capsule closet, somehow every few months I have an overstuffed closet and find myself purging my clothes, shoes and jewelry, keeping only “what sparks joy”. I attempt the “sparks joy” mantra when I am online and needing for example, a simple pair of black leggings. Do you know how difficult it would  be to find a pair of black leggings in a thrift or consignment shop? That also means I need to leave my couch and spend what little precious time I have off in a store with racks of clothes packed so tight that it hurts my fingers to even push the hangers aside.

So instead I jump on Amazon and put “small black leggings” in the search bar. My intention is for it to end there – just to choose a single pair and get off. But there are so many options I find myself spending entirely too much time clicking on multiple images that are not capris, have fringe, a flap on the waste, some ridiculous pattern… Minutes and minutes tick by. I find one that is perfect, I think! But not my size, they are not black, they don’t carry black. I click and click and I’m in a hole of despair. Then finally I’ll find a pair in a 3 pack. Do I choose the pack of three black or the ones that have black, white and red? I could use a red pair I tell myself, to match the tunic I bought and haven’t worn yet because my last pair of cheap (black none-the-less) leggings have a hole in a seam. Even though black would match, red would match better. And then right next to that 3 pack is another with grey, navy and army green. Those would all match great too! Yay I think. Now that I have spent more time than it would take to drive to a store to find leggings, I finally find a pair. I just bought 6 pairs and I believe I am done.

They seem to arrive 5 minutes later and one of two things will happen. I will either unpack them and put them away, or try them on because they look funny, or see-through or too tight. If I keep them the likelihood of me using them is low – I will more than likely grab the simple black pair over and over until they crumble to trash in a few months and completely forget about these other colors. When I purge my overflowing closet again in a few months I will donate them because I don’t use them. They don’t spark joy.

OR I will try them on and hate them. Then I will find myself having to drive to Kohl’s to return them. Kohls will give me a 5% off coupon at which time I will pass leggings on my way to the far end of the store and I will buy a pair on the spot without trying them on because I am in a rush to get somewhere. The same saga will unfold and those leggings I returned are not going back on a shelf – they are being donated or thrown away (look this up too, it’s true).

This is all from me, with good intentions. Who attempts to only shop fair trade or consignment. And I’m in the hole with the rest of the world. A cog in a horrific wheel of human waste, destroying the planet.

This isn’t just a problem with leggings for me. Or clothes. In the past 6 months I cannot even tell you how many coffee frothers I have been through. I will not even look at Temu. When I search “American Made” or “Fair Trade” – it’s almost as if search engines are broken. All I get are ads, sponsors and the absolute inability to tell where or how anything is made.  

A paragraph from my enraged husband: Now we have a new online shopping service, Temu, that has taken “fast fashion”, the concept of cheap clothes production destined to be worn and thrown out quickly, to a new level. Temu specializes in selling high volume, low quality clothes and other junk from China. They offer incredibly low prices through a combination of Chinese government subsidies, purchasing clothes from Chinese factories that exploit their workers, (look up the factory policy of 996) and avoiding US import taxes by shipping in small quantities.  China makes no secret about its goal of dominating global production of goods, and they do so through anti-competitive practices that leave US made and other non-Chinese producers at a disadvantage. Shop like a billionaire = shop and contribute to mountains of garbage on African beaches, and poor Chinese workers with no time for anything other than work and sleep AND forcing companies from other countries out of business.

I don’t know how to stop the madness, but look at Ghana. It starts with awareness at least. How about “shop like an informed billionaire”.

An article just published today on the NY Times: https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/14/business/economy/tariffs-amazon-walmart-china-shein.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare&sgrp=c-cb&ngrp=mnp&pvid=1B1BD8B6-958A-4F1A-91C1-25CBD779178E

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. 

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.