Afterwards

My YA fiction, ‘Charlotte Aimes’

I am a writer, and I believe that as our world becomes more liquid modern and saturated with content, we—and our children—need strong, mindful narratives to grasp onto and engage with.

I signed up for the Ready To Lead course because leadership skills are useful for writers who, as thought leaders, can harness words and ideas as agents for change.

But there is another reason I signed up.

Over the past year, I noticed I was becoming overwhelmed and almost paralyzed with my Feels around parenting a mercurial teenager.

The stories we tell

Plum Village wall

Plum Village wall

Last summer, I was lucky enough to hear Thich Nhat Hanh speak at Plum Village, and to then accompany him on a walking meditation.

I watched on as my younger child cavorted and chased wildlife through the plum orchard with the middle-grade children … while my older child moved with the teenage squadron: all undercuts and pink-and-blue dip-dyed hair, stuck to each other like velcro, communicating with furtive looks and occasional stifled outbursts of laughter or eye-rolling.

At the time, I wasn’t sure HOW to think about my teenager.

On the one hand, I understand the ‘story’ our culture tells us:

Teenagers are up and down. It’s a difficult time. They need their space.

Yet when we become attached to a story, we start to take it for granted … and it can lose its meaning.

It can also become inaccessible.

Teenagers are difficult’ didn’t even begin to provide solace, nor accurately describe my daughter’s situation.

How to love

social media by @libby_ol

“My whole life is on my phone”

Like many kids, my older child had had a tough year, and maybe deep down I was hoping she would take the opportunity to—somehow—learn some skills from mindfulness teachings, to begin to separate herself from her emotions.

But I had no idea how this would happen. She had already begun to distance herself from us as parents (which was perfectly normal, and to be expected), and it seemed like all my efforts to communicate with her were falling on deaf ears.

That day, I watched as Thich Nhat Hanh walked and held the small children’s hands. I watched him as as the children came and went like butterflies: he let them come and go, and he patiently kept walking, and smiling.

And I cried at how simple he made love look.

Fair weather

As the week progressed, my child relaxed … so I relaxed.

But it was a fair-weather relief.

Because as soon as we were back home and it wasn’t a smooth-sailing holiday environment any more, I found myself floundering. My so-called mindful way of being seemed almost ineffectual as the stormy teenager returned.

It became pretty clear that I was the one who needed to learn some skills. And fast.

Show, don’t tell

I’ve known intellectually for many years that a person can’t possibly be the best they can be if they’re tied up in ‘The Feels’, but up until the past year it was all theory. Until the past year, I hadn’t been in a situation head-on, where it was imperative that I deal with ‘my side of the street’ in order to be fully and skilfully present for someone else.

Over the course of Ready To Lead, I’ve learned how to be mindful of—and release—some very big emotions.

As an introvert—and someone who avoids conflict like the plague, rarely externalising strong emotions—this is a big step.

I now have some concrete tools and processes that I can apply to my own life, to become more skilful as a thinker, as a communicator, and as a doer.

I’ve seen the difference. And I believe that, step by step, it will get easier as I begin to ‘show’ my teenagers how to be mindful … rather than just dole out meaningless stories and advice.

A point about The Feels

blurry forest shot

Blurred vision

In teenagers, the amygdala—the part of our brain that governs our flight or fight response and our ability to correctly read others’ emotions as well as our own—is relatively outsized. Teens often can’t even read others’ facial expressions accurately.

Which is partially how miscommunications occur between parent and child. And messy communication often leads to unskilful emotional reactions, or (in Tumblr-ese) The Feels.

I’ve seen this #IRL with my daughter and her peers, and I remember it from my own teenage years. It can feel like you’re on tenterhooks the whole time. It can also feel like drowning, like there’s no way out of the ‘bad’ Feels.

Some teens are equipped to deal with this better than others, and there are numerous social, genetic, cultural and economic factors contributing to how a person responds to the life they have.

Where to begin?

1. I find it helpful to read what experts have to say around the topic, so I’ve included a page of resources, and I hope these will be helpful to some, as they have been for me. (It is a work in progress, and I will add other resources as I encounter them.)

2. From my own experience, a good place to start has been to notice my emotions as they arise, and get in the habit of asking myself The Four Questions.

3. Also, a short, habitual daily meditation helps exercise my mental ‘muscles’. It’s not always easy, but I do it, even when I’d rather be anywhere else but with my own surging mind.

Ultimately, I believe all this can only be of benefit to me—body and soul.

And, even if it doesn’t directly help my children find their way, then at least in practicing non-attachment and keeping my communication with them clean, I will not be stirring up or muddying the already turbulent waters that they are naturally trying to navigate.

Thanks

I thank Emily Bennington and Debra Hickok for their guidance over the past five weeks. Because it’s one thing to be learning to navigate your own boat … but it’s something altogether golden when you know there are others out there, like Emily and Debra, who willingly pass on their wisdom, hand over their maps … and give their time and love to help others be the best they can be—just because.

Culinary gymnastics and old habits: On self-compassion

a bowl of oatmeal

A Plum Village staple: Oatmeal with rice milk and pumpkin seeds

I went vegan for a week last summer, and my body loved it.

I was at Plum Village, a mindfulness practice centre in France, where—every day—I helped in the kitchen. I peeled carrots, I sliced capsicum, I washed lettuce. I worked mostly silently—as we were asked to do—in order that our food preparation be mindful.

At the time, I thought: “This is it for me. This food may not be for everyone, but it seriously rocks my body.”

I felt fantastic. I could even think more clearly.

Now here I am, nearly a year later, and I still eat my Plum Village style breakfasts … but the rest of it?

Not so much.

This week in the course we’re looking at our relationship with food, and so I’m doing some digging to look for reasons why I might be eating foods that are not so good for my body.

1. Our past

I was brought up as a mostly meat-and-three-veg kid … as was my mum … and my grandmother. This diet is not unhealthy, as it happens – certainly not for growing kids. My point is that food attitudes and habits run deep.

Each of us has a history of food attitudes and consumption that we bring with us to the here-and-now.

I’m an Aussie expat who lives on the other side of the world from my parents and one of my siblings, and there are times when I (and my hubby too) crave foods that I associate with being ‘home’. It’s a way of being in connection with our families and friends.

2. Other people’s stories

applesI’m a tall-and-thin humanoid. (As are my kids.) People comment on it. They tell me I need to eat a good roast dinner. They tell me I’m so lucky, I can eat what I want.

Well, if you look at me from the outside, perhaps it looks that way.

But actually, like everyone, my body has its needs, and I know there are many times when I ignore my body’s complaints, to my detriment.

Part of this is that I’m afraid that if I change my diet, I will lose too much weight. Socially, that’s awkward, because people comment.

Listening to other people, though, isn’t helpful. It’s like looking at bathroom scales or dieting: it creates, as Debra puts it, an outward focus. External goals and external stories.

3. Future-tripping

I am temporally overwhelmed with the dietary requirements of my own family. Long story short – between us we have allergies and intolerances to the following: some fruits and acidic foods, soy, gluten, milk proteins, some fats, nuts, some meats, some seafoods … The list goes on, and it’s different for each family member.

I get to meal-times and I panic. On Sunday night, I panic about the week ahead. The idea of taking on yet more culinary gymnastics for myself is overwhelming. (And believe me, I know how much preparation and time goes into good vegan eating. It’s not fast food.)

In worrying about the future, though, I’m denying myself the present.

Part of this mindfulness journey – eating or otherwise – is learning how to take each moment as it comes.

Learning how to navigate each hurdle as it arises, and not worry about how many hurdles there may be.

4. Habits and comfort

rowing girl comicI know from running full-weekend writing workshops that the food and beverage availability and quality is CRITICAL to how people perceive the overall experience.

Regardless of how much someone learned in workshops, if they didn’t get their coffee or if they didn’t enjoy the lunch … well, you can kiss the positive review goodbye.

So how do I move beyond these factors?

If there’s one thing I’ve become more aware of over the past five weeks studying mindful leadership, it’s that there’s a difference between goals and values.

There’s a difference between HOW you are, and WHO you are.

It’s a FORM vs. CONTENT thing.

And my CONTENT—the stuff inside me—is unique. I need to be true to my bodily needs—not the way I look on the outside.

I need to nurture my VALUES, and I need to nurture my spirit. And I can’t do that without taking my body seriously.

I would like to treat myself as I would my mother, or a friend. I would like to be compassionate with this body that has served me well for several decades now. And I would dearly like to teach my daughter and son to be mindful of the body that will carry them through the next years into adulthood.

So some days I may be a vegan, and some days a vegetarian. Some days, I may eat meat or sugar. It won’t matter what the outside world ‘call’ my food on that day—vegan, or Paleo or whatever—I will eat it mindfully.

And it starts with self-compassion.

We all go through life like this. We all have universal needs … The more we take care of ourselves, the more we connect with others.

Debra Hickok

When thinking is a bad idea: On Data and Bonafide Gurus

When I was at Plum Village with my family last summer, I took my son to the pre-sunrise guided meditation one morning.

Bordeaux landscape

What followed was a series of very funny moments as he went from vertical to horizontal and just about every position in between as he tried to stay awake.

I caught myself watching him intermittently out of the corner of my eye and trying not to giggle as his sincerity gave way to dramatic posturing. I tried to remind him with stifled gestures that we were supposed to be observing Noble Silence until after breakfast.

In the meantime, the man in front of me was stiller than a statue. His posture was dignified, he was in full lotus position. His dreadlocks were piled higher than a bonafide guru’s. I’d seen him several times during the day, still and silent as kids ran amok around him. I bet he was up doing Qigong at 5am. In fact, he was probably up with the monks and nuns at 3am. Who knows, maybe he never slept at all …

I stopped myself. Wow. Bonafide Guru over there was really getting under my skin. So I asked myself …

Do you know what’s really going on?

I did not.

I had no real information about what was going on in that man’s head. I had no data on how long he’d been sitting like that. He might have been dead, in rigor mortis, for all I knew, but nobody had noticed. There were a million stories I could have ascribed to his alleged meditational mastery.

I took myself back to my breathing.

This week in the course, we’ve discussed situations like this.

Debra and Emily call it ‘staying with the data‘.

That is: Not drawing conclusions based on personal interpretation.

Becoming aware of when we’re leaving the ‘data’ and starting to ascribe meaning to resonant parts of what others are saying.

When I reacted to the Bonafide Guru’s alleged mastery, I was bringing a whole bunch of my own baggage with me. I was annoyed at myself that I couldn’t still my mind or my body.

lock and key

lock up your values

My reaction – my emotion – was a cue that something was amiss on my side of the street. On further contemplation, I realised I’d let my meditation practice lapse over the past years, and I wasn’t okay with that, deep down. And that’s why I was so annoyed at Bonafide Guru over there.

Digging a bit deeper, I asked myself why I would be annoyed that I hadn’t been meditating so much lately.

And there was my answer: I value spiritual growth … and over the past few years there’d been a whole lot of nothing happening in that department.

It was a good reminder to return to my values, and to endeavour to live by them, instead of just pay them lip service.

As for my son: eventually, he gave up trying to stop wriggling … and went to sleep.

I think there’d be more than a few Bonafide Gurus who’d say there’s something in that for all of us.

bit tired by @libby_ol

Stay with the data

Maxing out your bandwidth: on leadership and parenting teens

Last summer, I spent a week at Plum Village in France – a mindfulness practice centre and community, of which the monk and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh is at the hub.

I was there with my husband, my teenaged daughter and my 11 year-old son.

lotus flower

Lotus flower at Plum Village

The Plum Village experiences are stories for another day (and you will hear some of them over the next month), but over the course of the week it occurred to me that I have worked extremely hard to master the professional side of my life—my work flows and processes, the home/work logistics, looking after my mind and body so that I can continue to be a writer …

And yet I was overwhelmed and almost crippled with the anxiety and stress around my daughter’s mercurial and at times deeply unhappy start to the teenage journey.

I was completely unprepared for the emotional challenges of raising teenagers. And digital natives at that.

Bandwidth

lego man without his hand

having a bad day

In September I did a quick calculation, and worked out that my bandwidth was about 82.7% taken up with worry about my kids and I still had to organise kids changing schools, deliver presentations and edit publications, be the primary carer, a supportive wife … and on top of that finish and publish my Young Adult novel with all its accoutrements (website, trailer etc.) by November. And then be a media and PR machine.

That’s about 17.3% bandwidth for all the rest.

Yellow Alert!

Over the past two years, I’ve been working with a core team to host speakers at The Powerhouse, a network for professional women in Zurich. In our core meetings, we speak openly about our professional challenges and our goals, our values and our achievements. We celebrate each other’s wins, and we offer our skills and our support when it’s needed. We focus on the professional side of our lives, and while we acknowledge that we have personal lives and family challenges, ‘complaining’ is not our schtick, because it’s often counter-productive, and it’s wise to be aware that not everybody has to do the kid-juggle. (We also encourage others in Powerhouse ‘small groups’ to use this model.)

As I drew closer to the deadline for my novel’s release, I realised I was starting to max out. I was starting to let my anxiety about my kids seep into everything. I found I couldn’t stop it. My conversations inevitably turned to blue hair dye and Tumblr and Snapchat, and whether freak-outs about socks that feel lumpy was normal for a fifth-grader.

I found myself saying, “I need to do something about this.” Over and over again. 

Last year, The Powerhouse hosted Emily Bennington, author of Who Says It’s A Man’s World, and I was lucky enough to spend the morning with her, chatting about everything from publishing to high heels, to Zurich’s marshmallow factories. (Okay, the marshmallow factories was my idea and it wasn’t entirely factual. I’m a fiction writer. Sue me.)

By the time she’d spoken to the 80-strong Powerhouse audience the next day I felt that her chillaxed and mindful approach to life, the universe and everything was spot-on.

So when Emily announced she would be running a mindful leadership course with Debra Hickok this year, it didn’t take any arm-twisting for me to decide to join.

Because, as I see it, I have a choice.

Either I spend the next decade maxing out my bandwidth with stress about my teenagers (and boring everyone else to puking point with it) … or I find ways to manage it.

Frankly, I’d rather be the best person I can be – not just in my professional life, but all the time. Because I have more books to write. I have more ideas to grow. I believe in the power of words to incite change. I believe we need strong narratives for our daughters and sons to grasp onto and engage with. And I want to write some of them.

But I can’t do any of that if I’m drained emotionally. When there’s conflict in my house I can’t even write a shopping list without getting upset. (I’m an INFJ. Sue me. Again.)

The here-and-now

comicI love my kids, and I love that when they were little we baked disastrous cakes and made catastrophic messes, we had (mis)adventures, and we racketed around (mostly) happily together.

But those days are in the past.

My husband and I now live with two strong-willed young people who are getting ready for adventures of their own. They only have one shot at growing up – and I need to gear up to help them get ready to fly.

I’m starting to realise that parenting teens requires some pretty kick-butt leadership skills.

And if those skills involve mindfulness, I’m there with pen and paper and meditation cushion, ready to learn.

I hope you enjoy reading about my Ready To Lead journey. I have a feeling it’s going to be an interesting one.

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