Calm is a state of mind—nothing more and nothing less, achievable when we choose to activate our intention. But, of course, it’s MUCH easier said than done. We can simplify our lives by passing along the things which are no longer needed or loved, hopefully by recycling or thrifting instead of throwing away. Saying “No” to the intrusions filling our time that don’t provide enjoyment or service to others can also help us move in the desired direction. Or just doing our best to avoid excess—of any kind.
          Many of us save up to go on vacation, hoping to catch some of that peaceful, easy feeling. Recently, I did just that, lucking out enough to tag along with my daughter’s family for not much more than my airfare and our car rental, plus food and gas. Any of us on our own probably would not have been able to afford this trip to Maui. I had no idea things were that expensive there!

            The island itself is quite beautiful and serene, once you get past the high-rise hotels and touristy shopping outlets. The beaches, mountains and waterfalls are such a treat to all the senses. One must slow down on The Road to Hana, even if the route itself wasn’t loaded with such extreme twists and turns. Practically nonstop we were rewarded with views of spectacular waterfalls cascading over rock cliffs right next to the road. Or rainbow eucalyptus trees reaching skyward through the rain forest. And the stunning coastline down below, caught in glimpses through breaks in the lush greenery.

            The four-mile Pipiwai Trail took us through incredibly different ecozones, including under a huge Banyan tree, alongside streams and waterfalls, and winding through a bamboo forest. A couple days later we hiked another four miles on the Waihee Ridge Trail where we climbed up into the clouds. The kids got a kick out of “eating clouds” up on top. And who would have expected little three-year-old Zoe to walk both trails herself, when she must have taken at least twice as many steps as the rest of us, and we were tired! Those were awesome days.

            With warm tropical days accompanying the “Hang Loose” mantra, my body finally unclenched from bearing up to the unseasonably cold weather we’ve been experiencing here. I was only gone a week, but it recharged my batteries enough to hopefully be able to glide more successfully into spring.

            We’ve been fortunate this year to receive the much needed rains to sustain our surroundings and fill the aquafers. And, I must admit, with everything so green and lovely now, it’s much easier to smile and be gracious and keep that Aloha spirit alive within me.

            However, the segment of time between leaving the island and arriving here I felt my calm escaping. The turbulence on the flight back was the worst I’d ever experienced. White knuckles on the armrests continued on and off for the entire trip. The opposite of calm. I concentrated on my breathing and focused on the idea that I’ve lived a good life and if it’s really my time to go then so be it. Both my breathing and this mantra played in a repetitive loop during those hours on the plane.

            These kinds of things are reminders that I still have a lot of work to do on remaining focused on my “calming intention”. More belly breathing and meditation during peaceful as well as stressful situations. So—I’ll set my sights to not give in so easily, and rein in the escaping calm at least more of the time. And I challenge us all to create more success in this endeavor. Aloha!  

Chi Varnado has six published books: The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series; her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire; and a children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail. These are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

          Our little neck of the woods has finally gotten that much needed rain. But now, the flood gates have opened wide with no let-up in sight. Our grasslands are lush and green now. But with more major storms the land will erode, but the lakes will fill up. There is beauty in both.

          I’ve been pondering the notion that instead of just making a New Year’s resolution, a better idea might be to continually make them—by going within ourselves and touching base with our own hearts. For me, this seems to help with my effort to remain open-minded about things. EVERYTHING. You know that country song line, “You’ve got to stand for something or you’ll fall for anything,”? It states the opposite of having an open mind and the antithesis of what I think we all need right now. The more entrenched we are in anything, the less we are able to move around and be free. This includes our minds. It feels to me like it’s time to get out of the quicksand because we are all sinking fast.

            It could be in all of our best interests to break free of our habit of needing constant input (noise). The more time we spend plugged in, the less comfortable we are without it. Perhaps it’s a little like quitting smoking, but just as important. I’m referring to social media, news, podcasts—anything which pulls us into thinking that our stance on something is completely correct and justified and that the other or opposite is completely wrong. There can be elements of both, and everything in between, in any viewpoint. We can lose sight of this sometimes when we don’t pause to reflect and listen to our own silence within—on a regular basis.

            Steering clear of verbal excess no matter the topic, either listening or voicing, might be a start. As we each face our own challenges, be it health, financial, familial, or relationships—may we try to recognize what challenges others might be facing as well.   

            As I take the time to wander through the canyon, pausing often to simply stand and stare, my soul is restored. This chaparral bathing, as I call it, similar to the term forest bathing, resets my mind and body. No earbuds or headsets or smart watch or Fitbit or any other manmade device to distract me from what is here and now. After all, isn’t that all any of us really have? It’s the real deal and I believe it’s worth showing up for.

            Of course, it can be difficult to remain present and it takes more than a bit of persistence to remember to pay attention to what’s right in front of us, right now, instead of allowing the mind to highjack these moments with its own preoccupations. Repeatedly I have to shake my head to clear the clutter in my mind before I miss something far more valuable than those circular tracks playing nonstop in my brain. Sound familiar?

            How about when our kid, grandchild or student wants to show us something? We may look up from our phone to glance at it and then mutter how nice it is. Did we really look at it? Was our response authentic or automatic? I think we know the answer to this and have all been there before. How much we all must miss with our unconscious behavior.

            Our kids and grandchildren came and spent New Year’s Eve with us, the second in a row. When the youngest one, three-year-old Zoe, needed something more than board games to interest her, I gave her some paper and a box of crayons so she could entertain herself at the table with us. That did the trick and we continued our festivities with everyone having a good time. The next morning, we all made breakfast together and enjoyed the fire in the woodburning stove in the living room. When it came time for them to leave, I snagged Zoe’s artwork from the previous night and went to hand it to them to take home. Of course, they already had a mountain of such scribbles at home and suggested that I keep it, so I set it aside. You see, I also have a plethora of such papers so I didn’t think much about it until I was tidying up later.

            Zoe’s self-portrait sat on the old sewing machine cabinet in the kitchen for days before I decided that more things needed to be put away. It was at this juncture that I picked it up and finally really looked at it. I couldn’t just stick it in the folder with the other pretty pictures. I realized that this piece of art was truly remarkable. At least to me it was. So, I put it on the refrigerator with magnets. Here, I can take notice of it every day, if I’m paying attention. This also helps to remind me to make an effort to remain more present and attentive to what’s here and now. Hopefully this way, I will miss out on fewer precious moments. Happy New Year, everyone!   

Chi Varnado has six published books. The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; and three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire, and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail, are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

          It’s no wonder that when we think about being grateful, it’s almost always for those things that are truly positive, with very few, if any, negative associations that come along with it. We like to bring up memories that evoke only warm, fuzzy feelings. Like that great vacation in Hawaii, or of our wonderful family (thinking of that day when we were all getting along so well), or perhaps the raise we got at work (just in time for the holidays). These are all good things to be thankful for.

            But what about those rather horrible things that happen? Events such as a fire that consumes everything you own or a terrible illness that you manage to survive? Often there can be silver linings if we look deeply, or after enough time has passed, enabling us to view the event from a broader perspective. Sometimes when we are in the thick of things, the best we can do is remember the phrase, “This too shall pass.” Our human condition is multi-layered and complex which can leave us burned out and depressed if we don’t learn how to value some of the downs as well as the ups.

            I suppose one of those downs for me has been a lifetime of frequent headaches. I got them as a kid, while a teen, during my middle adult years, and still do to this day. If I checked out every single time I had one, then I would never have accomplished anything—the college degrees, the dance career, raising a family, writing… And believe me, I’ve worked on myself a lot, trying to find possible causes: food, stress, genetics. So, to lessen them as best I can, I try to get bodywork done, meditate, exercise, eat right, spend time in nature, and laugh. I think these things help, but they haven’t been a cure—so I endure.

            The other night, after dragging myself out of bed with a throbbing head, self-massaging my neck, brewing a cup of coffee and swallowing some Advil, I settled into the recliner with a heating pad on my shoulder and an ice pack behind my neck. I gazed out the window at the millions of twinkling stars and took slow, deep breaths. My hands wrapped around the warm mug gratefully as I closed my eyes. This is often a time, I realize, that the thought of thankfulness registers in my brain. That, of course, is if it’s not one of those extra nasty ones that make me sick. I remember times like this when I was raising young children, of it being one of the rare instances I took for myself. In the quiet of the night, I could allow my thoughts and dreams to wander and sometimes it felt magical. And for this I was grateful.

            Getting up in the middle of the night can be a time when we are able to be alone in the quiet and slow down, allowing ourselves the space to wonder. Without the usual distractions we can go outside and observe the night sky and relish how different our world looks in the relative darkness. Here in the canyon, I get to witness the shining boulders in the moonlight or the constellations, and listen to the songs of the owls and poorwills. Then I smile and remember how grateful I am to be right here, right now.

            I’m sure we all sense, at times, the beauty amidst the storm. Whether it be how good we notice feeling after being sick; the unforeseen career we stumble into after all the job rejections; the surprise deliciousness we discover after substituting for a missing ingredient in a favorite recipe… I believe these kinds of experiences are what constitutes the spice of life. The hidden little happies make me truly grateful for this life that I get to live. So, this year, from the Thanksgiving turkey – to the Christmas tree or the Hanukkah menorah – to New Year’s Eve and beyond: Let’s try to focus on the ups in spite of the downs.

Chi Varnado has four recently published books. The Old House in the Country, women’s fiction; and three YA novels in The Dance Centre Presents series. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire, and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail, are also available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.