Spend More Time Living in the Moment

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and although it is not yet December, the Christmas season is upon us. Ready or not.

I’m not…

I’m not ready for the cold or the snow. Many of you will disagree with me, but if I had my way, we would have 1-2 inches of snow a couple days before Christmas, and it would all be gone by a couple days after Christmas. The only part I love about snow is being able to go walking in it, at dusk, when it’s coming down fresh and clean. It’s so peaceful and pretty in that moment. But then I’m happy if it disappears.

I’m not looking forward to fighting the people and the lines in the stores. I put too much pressure on myself to find the perfect gifts for my family and friends. My husband goes into a store with a list, and it’s like magic – everything he wants is right there. Check. Check. Check. I go into a store with a list and it’s anything but magic – you wanted what? Hahahahaha!!!

Well, bah humbug!

Sometimes I just have to step away from the holiday stress. I find peace when I morph into my alter ego, Lainee Cole, and spend time writing and playing with the shelter dogs in my stories. I recently heard a discussion about how to be as happy as your dog, and I thought it was fitting.

Dogs live in the moment. They don’t worry about what happened 10 minutes ago, or what might happen in the coming hours. They run and play, and yes, probably enjoy the snow I dislike. When they’re tired, they take a nap.

Dogs ask for what they need. They stick their nose in your face or lay on your lap. "Pet me," their soulful eyes beg. They sneak under the table and gently lay their heads on your thigh, hoping you’ll slip them just a bite of something good.

Dogs set boundaries. A low growl lets you know if you get too close, or if you are doing something that makes them uncomfortable. They don’t feel bad about putting us humans in our place. At least I don’t think they do…

Dogs are good at using their senses. They hear a noise and they investigate. They see a squirrel and want to chase it. We once had a dog who knew the minute someone got ice cream out of the freezer, even if the words "ice cream" were never spoken aloud. Dogs smell food and are ever hopeful that we will share.

We could learn a lot about how to be happy from our dogs. All of these things – using our senses, setting boundaries, asking for what we need – they all come back to living in the moment.

That’s my goal for this Christmas season – to spend more time living in the moment.

I want to focus on enjoying where I am and who I am with. I want to set boundaries on my time, to not feel guilty about turning down invitations if they don’t fit my schedule. I want to inhale the scent of my fresh-cut white pine Christmas tree, and transport my mind back to our vacation under the pine trees in South Dakota, where we got away from it all. When the cold and snow arrive, I want to listen to the wind rustle the branches of trees. I want to close my eyes and soak up any sunshine that comes my way while I take deep, cleansing breaths of fresh, cold air.

And once I’ve had my fill of the cold (which won’t take long), I will curl up in front of a roaring fire with a good book, and live in the moment of that world.

What are some ways you plan to live in the moment this holiday season? 

HiDee Ekstrom never goes anywhere without a book or a pen and paper. Reading, writing, and chocolate are important elements of her daily life that inspire her to write. She also finds inspiration in and enjoys photography, scrapbooking, camping, hiking, and spending time with her family. Writing as Lainee Cole, two of her short-stories have been self-published in anthologies: Captured by Christmas and At Midnight. Follow Lainee at Facebook Author Page, Facebook Author Profile Page, and on Twitter.

Welcome to the New World

I relate to the predicament of Doug Heffernan in one of the scenes from an episode of The King of Queens sitcom. Doug is lost in the woods, but he comes across a bridge that will take him to civilization. Problem is it's a flimsy, swinging bridge over a deep gorge, and as he crosses he feels insecure. At one point when it seems like the bridge may break, he hollers to his wife standing on the other side something like, "Helicopter now!" The bridge feels unsafe, insecure, not good for him and he wants immediate rescue back to solid ground. He even contemplates retreating back the way he came from, back into the woods.

I relate because I feel like I'm in transition in my life, have been for a while, and I want security. I want the helicopter to rescue me from uncertainty and having to try new paths. I want solid stuff to stand on. I want to be able to count on getting what I need when I need it. And I want important people in my life to stay, not disappear for various reasons.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
I think it might be human nature to long for stability and constancy, but it doesn't seem like we get it much, at least not right now. The whole world is in gigantic transition, and we can't get back to the Disneyland we thought we lived in. There is no president or king or queen or CEO who takes care of us all and makes sure the world is safe and secure, a place where we can live our lives in peace and harmony and prosperity. There are no sure things. There is no template for success because things are changing so quickly. There is no longer the promise of a job for life with a pension at retirement. There is no longer the promise of owning a home that grows in value. Change has always been the way of things but the speed of change has accelerated to a rate that it feels like I'm living one long transition.

Transition is apparent in my work as a writer, too. It's harder for a freelance writer to find work that pays well. In the great recession, freelance budgets were cut and in many cases eliminated. And for romance novel writers, the world of publishing has been in flux for a while. Whether we survive and prosper or not might depend on how we manage transition.

Getting from Here to There
It amazes me that creating the life I want, my new world, can plunge me into discomfort. Surprise! Change prompts transition. Personally I don't find it very comfortable to try to navigate transitions. It sounds exciting, "I'm in a process of transitioning from the old to the new. I welcome the new." However, change doesn't necessarily happen the way I expect and it doesn't necessarily occur rapidly and effortlessly. It doesn't feel good to be in the in-between. It can feel like nowhere with nothing to stand on. The confusion can engender different survival tactics. Nancy K. Schlossberg, Ed.D writes in Psychology Today about the ability for transitions to move us to take action, any kind of action, to relieve the anxiety.

"Transitions waiting to happen include uncertainty, ambiguity, and loss of control. The future is always uncertain and ambiguous and according to Daniel Gilbert, author of Stumbling On Happiness, we are poor predictors of the future. In addition, we imagine different scenarios but cannot control all the variables."

In the midst of a changing landscape, we can see various survival tactics employed among authors. Some are venturing out with gusto to try new things and trusting the ground will be there when they need it. They may be brave and confident as well as in denial of their true feelings of fear and loss—but as long as they don't look down "Everything is fine." Others may batten down the hatches and try to insist that the best way to weather change is to follow familiar paths and hope for the best. This is a terribly simplified description of ways to deal with transition, but I relate to both. I don’t want to look down—feel the fear of the unknown and contemplate failure—when I'm trying new things and I want to follow the same path, because typically familiar, though maybe ineffective, is comfortable.

Getting Real
In her article Schlossberg writes that transitions can feel like life is on hold, and she lists typical ways people cope during transitions, like during illness and when losing old friends. Her list of coping strategies includes rehearsing for the future, going to Plan-B and acknowledging the transition.

"Living a life on hold is not easy. There are no end points in sight, yet it is a transition that many men and women face."

I think being aware of what I'm feeling is one way to weather transition, but it's not easy. In our culture we've been taught if you're not happy it's time to get out of Dodge or go to Disneyland (whatever that may mean in the moment—eat a cookie, change jobs, leave old friends). I'm not picking on Disneyland. It's a metaphor for avoiding what's real and maybe scary and painful, escaping the crappy present moment we're going through. But sometimes we need to consider waiting, pausing, sitting with what is and not judging. Letting other writers do what they need to do to weather their changes and be there for them in the way we can. Take care of our health, get out in nature, sit with the dog or cat and chill. Transition is going to happen, so being aware of its nature and what we're going through can relieve the pressure of trying to control things we can't. Then we might be better able to make transition.

OK, now I sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi. But it's what I believe I've learned as I've been in transition in many ways. Transitions offer possibilities and at the same time can feel like crap for a while. Acknowledge them and be open.

Or as Obi-Wan would say, and did in Star Wars: Rest easy, son. You've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece.

Image Bridge into the Mountains from Dreamstime