That Still Small Voice

For this week’s yoga classes we are working to remove obstacles to hearing our inner voices more clearly. Our deepest knowing is always for our highest good.  Some people might call that still small inner voice the higher self. Some call it intuition. I call it God. In this video with my dear friend and priest Dina Van Klaveran she says that God is always talking to us. It’s our job to clear away those things that get in the way of hearing that voice. For me, yoga helps. Meditation and contemplation helps. Yoga’s not a problem for me. I teach so I have to practice. And I do love the practice and the way it makes my body feel; flexible, relaxed and free to move about the world. Sitting still and meditating is a whole different thing.

We know the benefits of meditation and quieting the mind. It reduces stress and can be healing on all levels; spiritual, emotional, mental and physical. Blood pressure can lower which affects the health of so many of our organs. Our brain function is enhanced with meditation, helping with addictions, progressive diseases of the brain and body like Parkinsons, Alzheimers and dementia. There is much research to back this up and this video with Dr. Sara Lazar was especially enlightening to me back when I was just learning to be a yoga teacher.

I have become quite proficient at meditation procrastination. It’s a thing. Here are just some of the many distractions I will create to avoid meditating. I will…

cook

eat

drink wine

clean out my closet

talk on the phone

text

watch HGTV

online shop

listen to audiobooks, podcasts

run/walk while I listen to audiobooks, podcasts

think about meditating

ruminate about not meditating

almost everything else

Any of these familiar to you? Can you add to the list? Go for it!

Hearing that still small voice has become even more important for me, especially as I age and feel the need to tune in more deeply to stay present to my body to prevent injury, to know what my body needs for nourishment and, most importantly for me,  to stay connected to the Creator, the source of my spiritual guidance. 

Several years ago I planned to go to New York City to visit my daughter Caroline who had only been there for a couple of weeks to pursue her acting career. Dropping her off in that huge city was difficult for me and her father, as you can imagine. She was young and full of innocence and ambition. I prayed she was listening to that still small voice to keep her safe as she walked the streets off Manhattan, especially at night. 

As I got ready to get in my car to head for the BWI train station, I heard a small voice telling me to go back in the house and grab the flip camera ( I loved my Flip. It was HD 1080P, excellent sound and video, and had a handy USB port for easy transfer to the computer. How I miss my Flip!) on the kitchen counter. It was very specific instruction so I paid attention. I put the camera in my purse and headed out to board the  9 AM train to NYC. Little did I know that later on that day on the corner of 45th and 9th (or 10th) Ave. my daughter would get her first offer to be in a Broadway show. Had I not been paying attention to that still small voice I wouldn’t have had my Flip with me (my phone was a flip phone too at that time. No video on that ancient device!) and I wouldn’t have been able to whip it out and take this precious video which let us share her contagious, very genuine joy with family and friends. I remember someone asking me if she was acting in this video. I had to laugh. It was the realest real deal. It was a moment to savor and, because I listened I was able to capture it on video. I did edit it a bit and add a recording she had previously made of her singing the role she would soon be playing in Wicked on Broadway.

I have had many other experiences like this, but this one stands out for me as particularly special. Sometimes our still small voice doesn’t get our attention and it might start speaking louder until it manifests as a problem. And sometimes, as Oprah used to like to say on her show, it hits you like a brick right upside the head! That’s never fun.

It’s much easier to listen to and respond promptly to the quiet, loving nudge in the direction of our best life.

Mary Oliver says it so well in her famous poem The Journey:

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

So we practice. I am sorry to say we have to keep up the practice. I wish it were easier. So I am recommitting to my meditation practice, starting this week. If you have a Lenten practice, this might coincide nicely for you. 

Here’s to that still small voice. May we be open to the sweet whisper from the One who loves us so dearly and only wants what’s best for us. May we be still enough, often enough, to discern that voice from the louder, harsher voices that intrude on our peace from a very broken world. And may we all know that peace, the true peace that passes all understanding and pass it around as needed.

Peace and Namaste.

Spirituality and Soup

For Christians, Advent is a time of waiting. During the darkest time and the shortest days of the year I am often met, surprisingly, with time on my hands. Anyone else notice this odd phenomenon? I feel it. It's strange, as our culture tells us we have so much to do, sometimes I find myself with more time to ruminate in the winter. The nights grow longer, days are cold and so we huddle indoors while the holidays loom in the distance, seemingly a far ways off. 

How do we find patience to wait for the light? When things are darkest it is often difficult to imagine the light ever returning. But it always does. Year after year we are reminded of this by the repetition of the cycles of nature and the meaning we choose to impose on it. God's there in the dark and the light, loving us and inviting us to a closer, co-creative experience of that love.

Mr. Rogers had a song that he liked to sing on his popular children's television show. It went like this:

 Let's think of something to do while we're waiting / While we're waiting / For something new to do / Let's think up a song while we're waiting / That's liberating / And will be true to you / Let's think of something to do while we're waiting / While we're waiting / Till something's through / You know it's really alright / In fact it's downright quite right / To think of something to do that's specific for you / Let's think of something to do while we're waiting.

I think dear Mr. Rogers was onto something. When things are darkest, we can still create. We can write a song, knit a sweater, paint a picture, write cards, wrap presents decorate, make a pot of soup. 

Yesterday I did just that. I was feeling the darkness as the day was coming to a close and so I decided to make a big pot of soup. It was satisfying, edifying, warming and intentional.

How do you live into the darkest days of the year? What sustains you while you wait for the light to return?

Advent comes every year at this time. 
Just in time. 






Spirituality of Soup

Chilly, windy.  Twilight settles early.

Hungry. Empty. Barren.
Awakening to longing; for wholeness, beauty, depth…God
Organize. Assemble. Chop.

Large stock pot. EVOO, Onions, carrots, potatoes, beans, broth, spices…

Heat. Light. Fragrant aroma, colors, flavors, textures.

Waiting. Uncertainty. Hope. Faith.

Temptation: Insta Pot (still in box, unopened).

No, souls need practice. Let boil, then simmer…gently.

Waiting, letting go, trusting the process.

Grace, Peace, Stillness.

Breath.

Watching. Waiting. Impatient.

Reflection: Darkness eventually ends. Stay.

Tenderness, patience, compassion. Steam rises. Bell rings.

Worthy container. Open to receive.

Warmth fills, nourishes, sustains.

Creation! Gratitude! Redemption! Joy!

Recipe for a meaningful Advent: Commit, Prepare, Tend, Watch and Wait, Celebrate, Share, Repeat

XO,

Connie

Five Steps to Peace: Intentional Shalom for the Holidays

According to Rabbi David Zazlow: …the Hebrew word shalom does not mean “peace,” at least not in the English sense of the word. It comes from a Hebrew root word that means “wholeness.” And what is wholeness? In the Hebraic way of thinking, wholeness is the joining together of opposites. That’s why we say “shalom” when we greet friends and when we wish them farewell. In the most opposite of situations (coming and going) we use the same word, “shalom.” There is a hidden connection to all our comings and goings; they are wondrously linked together. When I come from somewhere, I am going to someplace else. When I realize this, I feel “wholeness,” and that is the source of peace – the knowledge that all my opposing energies are somehow linked and part of a single whole. True peace must have wholeness as its foundation.

If peace, shalom, is your intention then what steps are you willing to take to ensure that it will be present in your life, especially during the challenging times? (Especially as family gathers around a table where opposite views might be present.) If wholeness is our intention, then let’s make this a little easier. Let’s start at the very beginning as Maria von Trapp (nee Kutschera) would have said (or sung). It is a very good place to start.

1.    We cannot bring peace to the table if we are not internally peaceful. Wholeness can be described as a state of balance in mind, body and spirit. What is causing internal disconnect? Is it physical, emotional, spiritual? Take a moment to be still enough to get curious about what might be off and then take action to bring yourself back to balance in whatever way seems appropriate. Maybe a run or a yoga class is in order. Perhaps some self care would help you reconnect to your true self. Maybe a talk with a trusted friend, clergy or professional would be helpful. A simple practice of deep breathing for five minutes can do wonders. Deep down, you know what it is you need. Take the steps necessary to head back in the direction of balance.

2.   Take a few moments to pause and direct your attention to each person you will be with this holiday. What is the state of your relationship with them? What is the history of that relationship? Are there wounds that could be healed through forgiveness or asking for forgiveness and perhaps making amends in some way? Be radically honest with yourself. Peace requires this of you. Where can you move your relationships to wholeness and how are you willing to do this?

3.    Bring your awareness to your heart. Bring your hands and place them over your heart. Breathe deeply. Now, and this requires courage, who comes to mind when you make this gesture? Is there someone who will be missing from your table this year? Grief and loss are often just under the surface and oftentimes can be the reason for extra sensitivity around the holidays. Take time to grieve for those you are missing. Bring them to the table. Talk about them. Recall happy memories and share them. Listen deeply as others share from their hearts.

4.    The first three steps have been mostly all about us. Now that we are centered and more whole we can take the focus off of ourselves and connect with our empathy and compassion. Has Uncle Fred been having trouble getting to AA meetings lately? How are cousin Kate’s chemo treatments going? Will your nephew whose wife recently left bring his unruly toddler this year and allow him to disrupt the festivities? We’re veering off course here. Come back. Perhaps we could bring a children’s book for the little guy (I know a couple of good ones that have awesome Youtube videos to go with them). Taking the time to engender compassion for people is a brilliant wholeness practice. It will change things, trust me on this.

5.    When we join together this week to express gratitude for our many blessings we are contributing to our communal wholeness. Gratitude is high level peacemaking. For what and for whom are you grateful? Make a list. Keep adding to it. Start small and move to the bigger things. Gratitude is healing. Gratitude is prayer. 

Peace begins with us. Whether you quote the Buddha, Emerson or St. Francis, they all say the same thing in their own way. If we truly want peace, shalom, wholeness, we must do the work. But it’s good, wholesome, worthwhile work. 

Peace, Shalom, to you at holiday times and always.

Connie

Super Socks is About Solidarity, Kindness and Love!

One Thing

I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had no where else to go. My own wisdom and that of all about me seemed insufficient for that day.     ― Abraham Lincoln

Through the years people have often asked me “How did you do it?”, meaning how did I survive the death of a child. They were looking for the “one thing.” In answering, I try to honor the spirit of the question, which is certainly different for every person. Some are grieving themselves and looking for concrete, practical advice. Some might be asking as they are witnessing the grief of a friend or loved one and sincerely want to help. Some are simply curious. I often feel the weight of the responsibility to answer well for each person. It’s never an easy answer. That’s why I wrote Back to Happy. The book was my humble offering in response to that question.  For me, if I was to pinpoint the “one thing” that was the thread woven through the fabric of my personal healing, I would have to say it was surrender. Surrender was the most difficult, most unlikely, most radically transformational part of my grief journey.

It’s ineffable for sure, difficult to describe with words but I try my best in Back to Happy. Just to clarify what I mean by surrender, I will tell you first what surrender is not. Surrender is not giving up. Surrender is not weakness. Surrender is not permission to check out. 

When something traumatic happens, like a loss (and these recent shootings are deeply communal losses for all of us) we often want to respond with immediate action. Action is one way of avoiding profoundly deep feelings of despair. There are others, but avoiding is not what I want to focus on here. Grief and despair can overwhelm the human system physically, emotionally and energetically. In the aftermath of trauma our minds and spirits are often disconnected from our bodies. Our mind races ahead to make sense of what has happened and wants to come up with solutions. Our body is left feeling untethered, like a helium balloon released to the heavens. Our beautiful immortal spirit, in its wisdom, seeks wholeness and gently nudges the broken parts of us back to unity. You may feel these gentle nudges when coincidences happen or unlikely people show up at just the right time or a certain song plays on the radio. 

What can we do with a racing mind and a deeply traumatized body? We can choose to surrender to the nudges. Surrender brought me to my knees, literally. I wrote about this in Back to Happy.  One day after months of pushing and doing and trying my best to keep busy with things that would seemingly help me move through the despair, somewhere from deep within came the thought that I could choose to surrender. That day in my living room, all by myself, I prayed. I prayed hard. I surrendered. And I asked for help. 

That was my turning point. Physically and mentally I surrendered to the awareness that I needed a higher power (for me that’s God). I surrendered to accepting help from other people. We are not meant to endure despair alone. Always, always reach out. But first, surrender. Love, God, the universe, whatever you choose to call her, is always there waiting for us. We have to make the first move. 

Over time surrender led me to people and places and books and churches and counselors and yoga classes. I began to heal and rediscover joy. To use the words "surrender saved me" is an understatement. Surrender changed everything for the better and for good. As I practice surrender daily it continues to teach me and never fails to amaze and delight. 

So if you are wondering for yourself or another what is the “one thing” that you could do or suggest to another to move with grace through the devastating, complicated, life changing grief that inevitably we will all face, try surrender. Surrender with your mind and your body and ask for whatever help you need. You will receive. And then, never stop asking. 

May you find the courage to surrender to the love that is waiting silently and patiently for you. May you know the peace that comes with this surrender. May you grow closer, day by day, to this miraculous, delightful mystery. In time, may you come to know the gift of sharing it with others.

Connie Bowman is an actress, yoga teacher, host of the podcast Happy Healthy You! and author of Back to Happy and children's picture books about overcoming fear, kindness and acceptance. For more about her visit www.conniebowman.com.

Blessed Overzealous Gardening

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. ~~Carl Jung

On the longest day of the year, perhaps it’s good to look to the light as a source of wisdom to carry us through the ever darkening days that will surely come.

Last year I was  a new gardener. I built a raised bed garden. I had been thinking about this for a few years and, inspired by my green thumbed friend Christina who encouraged me, I decided this was the year. I prepared the soil, bought some plants at the local garden center. I was thrilled by possibility. I imagined my kitchen counter piled high with fresh vegetables and herbs, my family and friends feasting joyfully on my bountiful harvest. By July I had more garden than I had anticipated. It was abundant. It was green and lush. It was overwhelmingly extravagant. It was waaaay too much.

Last year's garden. Oh boy!

Last year, in my exuberance, I over planted the garden. It was new. I was a rookie. It was fun but because of my over planting many of my cherry tomatoes died. The zucchini that grew so fast and furiously got eaten in part by birds, in part by creatures of unknown specification. I felt vindicated when my friend Christina, my garden mentor and guru told me, “Just go with it this year and see what happens. You will figure out what works and what doesn’t and try again next year.” That sat well. Thank you for permission to fail big Christina. As an oldest child and a three on the Enneagram, that felt good to me.

So this year, I planned my garden with a bit more care and caution. I spaced and staked the tomatoes. I limited my zucchini to just a few plants. I added peppers and squash and even some lavender, thinking I might make some fancy lavender teas or ice creams or some gourmet epicurean delight such as that. A girl can dream. 

So far so good. My plants are growing well. The rains are coming at nice intervals and it hasn’t been too hot. All but the basil is thriving. I am not sure why. 

Trial and error. Trying new things is great for our growth. We can learn from our mistakes if we give ourselves permission to fail. The one caveat is we must not give up. We will know when it is time to move on. But tenacity is imperative. Stay the course. Keep the faith. "Hope is a form of planning," as Gloria Steinem told me in an interview.

This year's garden. More reasonable.

When I decided to start acting and really throw my hat into the ring, it was scary. I spent a lot of money on those first headshots. I was questioning myself at every turn. Who am I to think this could turn out OK? Many times I wanted to just give up. Auditions are the worst. Rejection is even worse. At one of my first auditions for a commercial for a local PBS channel l was asked to pantomime making spaghetti. At forty, with young children, I had made spaghetti for my family countless times. I committed to that spaghetti. I gathered my ingredients, put the pasta in the big pot on the stove, turned the gas on, leaning down to observe the flame making sure it was just right. Opening the jar of sauce was an opportunity to show my real acting chops… You get the point. I got the part. That small success gave me courage to keep going. And I did for many years. I learned a lot. Mostly about myself. I learned to be in the present moment (with the help of yoga and meditation practice). I learned to listen to directors and to the other actors in the scene. I learned that my part was no more important than anyone else’s, including the under celebrated crew that worked behind the scenes. We are a team brought together for a brief time to tell a story. I learned to let go of outcomes and just do my best. I learned that I was good at some things but not others. Auditioning hundreds of times for House of Cards, taught me that sometimes it is just not meant to be, or in the cards (hee hee). But, I never gave up. 

I suppose I got this from my Daddy. He always told us “Never say can’t.” But he said it with a slight country twang for emphasis, “Never say “c’aint” - a combination of can’t and ain’t. 

Dad worked hard. He had his own electrical contracting business. It was quite successful but he was always making adjustments based on the economy, his family circumstances, his need for more rest and recreation. At one time, he had many trucks and many employees. Then during leaner economic times he pared his business down to just a few. He approached change with balance and caution. But he did make changes as necessary. To my childish self-centered mind Dad seemed to adjust to circumstances seamlessly and easily. Most likely to him, these changes were not as easy as they looked.

What happens when things get hard, we lose jobs, loved ones, or our physical or emotional health is precarious? What happens when life gets routine and we fall into repeating patterns? Same thing day after day. Wake, work, eat, sleep. Energy drains. Addictions can set in if we are not careful. We can look outside of ourselves for a quick fix or for something to break the monotony. What if we looked inside, paused and reflected for a time on what would bring new life, new growth? 

Getting still enough to ask is helpful. What light is being offered to me at this time? 

In my family life, in my marriage, in my career, I have seen season after season of change. Sometimes growth and change happened on its own without my having to intervene, like the mint and the chives in my garden. Sometimes there was stagnation like the basil that is not doing well this year. I have found that when I ignore the call to new growth, suffering happens. It can be subtle. Stillness helps discern the next right move. 

My first pepper!

Deciding to give professional acting and voiceover a shot, write a book, teach yoga, go back to school have all been scary but life giving. For me, practice makes, not perfection, but, rather satisfaction. There is a blessed satisfaction that can transform into joy when we try new things. I have found that the greatest transformation and joy has come from a threefold process of deep listening (hearing the call to plant a garden, write a book, take a class, volunteer, etc.) following through with the task at hand (planting the garden), and finally, letting go of the need to control the outcome as my friend Christina suggested. Ultimately, the greatest joys have come out of sharing my gifts (my love) with others. I wonder if you have felt the same.

On this the longest day of the year we are reminded of the abundance of light, of love, of possibility for new growth. As we head into the familiar pattern of shortened days and the certainty of darkness, what is it you want to carry into this next season? We can be fortified by the light but only if we can absorb and accept what it has to offer. Listen deeply. What is it God is calling you to add to your garden or perhaps to weed out? What needs to die to make space for new growth? What would happen if you gave yourself permission to fail? Where can you cultivate gratitude?

Plants grow toward the light. Some will come back, tenacious as my mother’s mint and my thick green pungent chives. Some will be delicate like the basil and no matter how much love we give it, it just will not take root. Each new growth is a little different in character. Like God tends to us individually with tender love and care, so we must tend our own gardens. And God, she sees our efforts, and we are lovingly, extravagantly and abundantly rewarded.

Resolutions

As we head into a whole new year and the celebration of our beautiful planet’s successful orbit around our sun, my mind turns to the concept of the passing of time. Isn’t time a human concept after all? Is age really just a number? And when do we start getting a pass on making resolutions?

My birthday was in December and a larger, more ominous number looms before me less than a year from now. Should I be concerned? I don’t really feel very concerned. I am more interested in my day to day happiness and my day to day mindful, creative, loving existence. It’s really difficult these days for me to plan anytime too far in the future. Good thing I’m not running a large corporation. A really good thing.

Becoming a yoga teacher has changed me. Losing a child has changed me. And perhaps growing older has changed me. For real my growing relationship with God has changed me. Sometimes I feel like I live in my own little world, but I kind of like it here. 

I rebel a little when people talk about the passing of time and the difficulty of growing older. Sure it’s hard on us physically, but emotionally and spiritually it’s way easier (and lots more fun) these days, in my experience anyway. What once felt like really hard challenges seem smaller with the perspective of age. I enjoy knowing, really knowing, that “this, too, shall pass”. Growing older is a privilege and doing it healthfully is a joy. 

As I ponder this new year and people are asking about my resolutions and goals, I find myself balking at this idea as well. Why must I plan and strategize and control and make bold statements about my year to come? 

I do have a trip coming up that I am pretty excited about. Thank you friends and husband for mostly planning the whole thing! I did find a yoga studio I want to visit while I am there. That’s something. I also have some ideas for new children’s books and perhaps another video like the one David Rowen produced for me to go with the book that came out last month. I want to keep teaching yoga and deepen my own practice. I want to continue to learn more about how the practice can interface with my spiritual practices of contemplation, prayer and meditation. I want to practice forgiveness and compassion wherever possible to heal wounds from the past. I want to be there for loved ones who need me and make more time to be truly present for them when asked to be. If acting and voice over jobs show up that seem fun, I look forward to them. They are always welcome challenges.

A couple of years ago I wrote down some goals in a New Year’s Day yoga class. I wrote that I wanted to work on three films that year. Funny, I did work on three films that year. Should have written four. Intentionality is powerful. I am not denying the power of goal setting and visualizing and focus and all that. I like flow. I know flow. I want to be in the flow all of the time. Or at least more of the time. Being in flow means I surrender to the mysterious forces that guide and empower me to move through life and love and work with grace and ease. In my first half of life I tried to control and manipulate and create my life according to my will. My ego believed it was in control and had quite a bit of power. 

Now that I am fully in my second act, the second half of life, I am more content to let things unfold as they want to. It’s more about Thy will over my will. I’m not being lazy, although this past week has been an enjoyable week of rest for me. I am surrendering to the flow and trusting that God’s got my back. She has proven time and time again that She does, so I am done. I am all in. She knows what is best for me and will guide my 2019 whether I plan anything or not. It’s all God and it’s all good. I just need to be open to guidance and be ready to act when the time is right.

When I consider the truth that on this New Year’s Eve Eve as I sit here writing in my kitchen on this computer, in my yoga pants (and my vest and hat - I just went for a run) that at my age I am happy and healthy and so fortunate to be in this life, I am acutely aware of the improbability of it all. And so grateful. So darn grateful that my parents, my sweet loving adorable parents, married almost 62 years now, came together in the nifty fifties, did the deed, sperm and ovum united, became cells that subdivided, then an embryo, a nervous system, a whole body that has been my home for all these years. It’s really pretty amazing to consider the enormity of it all, let alone the idea of the passage of time. 

That said, I have recently read an interesting book by Dan Pink entitled When about how to schedule your life. He shares interesting research findings about why mornings are probably best for a lot of things over afternoons (there are exceptions of course) and how to maximize productivity by planning your day around your “chromatype”. Find out if you are a lark or an owl by checking out this link to determine your circadian rhythm type. Avoid the dreaded “trough”, that time when energy levels bottom out for many reasons. It could save your life if you are having surgery in the afternoon in a hospital that doesn’t practice preventive measures to combat this dangerous phenomenon. Interesting stuff. In his book Pink describes how different people arrange their day to take advantage of optimum times for creativity. I am particular to Tchaikovsky’s daily routine: early waking, walking, breakfast, composing at the piano, a two hour afternoon walk, dinner, light practice, bed. I don’t play or compose like him but I will have to work on my own daily routine as the days get longer. I do believe in getting sunshine when we can during the sunnier winter days. Maybe I will practice the piano more. Thanks Tchaikovsky. Can I call you Pyotr?

Time is a human concept perhaps, but we do have to respect the changing of seasons and the movements of the planets and stars. They have a marked effect on our physical bodies and our psyches. Sensitivity to the external world is part of our human experience. Living in more harmony with the natural world is an intention I am putting out there, especially in this second half of life. To kick this off I am excited to share a Happy Healthy You! podcast, co-hosted with my daughter Caroline Bowman, about living a more zero waste kind of life. We do produce so much waste. I do anyways. I want to do better. She introduced me to her friend and fellow Kinky Boots castmate Julia McClellen who is extraordinarily and contagiously passionate about the subject. We both learned a lot and it was fun to co-host with her. Watch for that podcast toward the end of the month.

OK, so maybe I do have a few resolutions or intentions for 2019.  Whatever. But I am still going to go with the flow, be in the moment and up the faith factor. I trust you will do what's right for you when considering the opportunity for a fresh start that this new year brings.

Whatever your relationship with time, and I am sure it is just perfect for you, I wish you the happiest of New Years, the healthiest of every year from my loving heart to yours. Keep on living your best, most authentic life from one moment to the next and you can’t go wrong. And if you need a little encouragement don’t hesitate to reach out to me or someone else you trust.

We are here for one another. Trust me, I am old. I know these things.

Namaste,

Connie

Connie Bowman is an actress, author, host of the podcast Happy Healthy You! and yoga teacher who teaches at various places around Howard County, MD. For more about her visit www.conniebowman.com.

Traditions

The Christmas season has so many traditions attached to it, the familiar carols being one of them. I know most of them well as a professional caroler for more than fifteen years. Dressed in traditional Victorian costumes quartets traveled, soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, to private parties, public celebrations, grand foyers of government and corporate buildings. We sang outside in cold, wind, rain, and snow and inside senior centers and assisted living facilities where the temperatures were toasty warm.

A couple of years into my retirement from this gracious a cappella group I look back with fondness on the memories of singing these beloved carols for thousands of (mostly) grateful audiences.

Sometimes we would come upon people, like at a mall or shopping center, taking them by surprise. Seeing the delight in their eyes was gratifying as they softened into the spirit of what we were offering. Oftentimes people were moved to tears hearing the familiar melodies. Many people sang right along with us over the years, even the souls in the nursing homes whose memories had long faded but could from somewhere deep inside retrieve the words to these carols.

What is it about a tradition that is so comforting?

My daughter and son-in-law live in a primarily Jewish Orthodox section of New York City. There is a beautiful synagogue on the corner opposite their 1928 apartment building. Many of the people who live in their building are elderly immigrant Jews who keep kosher and practice the traditions of old. They have their ways and they are staunch defenders of their traditions.

I find it comforting that my young newlywed children are surrounded by this community with rich cultural and religious values and traditions. They are slowly getting to know their neighbors and their customs and finding an appreciation for the sweetness and gentleness of their practices. There is respect and honor and a genuine curiosity there. 

As we enter into this last week of holiday preparation and shopping fervor I wonder if you have taken a moment to appreciate the traditions from your past that have given you comfort. Perhaps it’s not the carols for you.  If not, what brings you comfort and joy during the holiday season? Is it a particular dish once lovingly prepared by a beloved grandmother? What do you know of that dish? How is it woven into your story and heritage?

At a Thompson family cookie exchange last week I found out that my grandfather, my father's father, loved kippers for breakfast on Christmas morning. I didn’t know much about the fish that my grandmother soaked overnight in a pan of water on the counter of their sprawling kitchen in Maxton, North Carolina. My grandfather was of Scottish descent and eating those kippers no doubt brought him comfort and a connection to his ancestry. Oh, and grits. We always had grits. In that same conversation my cousin, the senior of our group, reminded me that when my grandmother passed away the only memento my father asked for was the double boiler in which my Granny prepared the grits for breakfast. We forgo the kippers, but each Christmas morning my Dad is in charge of fixing a big pot of southern-style butter-drenched grits.

In a conversation on the Happy Healthy You! podcast last week I spoke with author Anna Gatmon, Ph.D. about bringing more spirituality and meaning into our holiday celebrations. She offers some great ideas for gift giving and meal sharing for those of us who appreciate tradition and meaning and memory-making. Take a listen here and let me know if any of these ideas resonate with you. Perhaps you have your own ideas to share. 

May you enjoy this upcoming holiday and perhaps find comfort, joy, and peace in celebrating traditions that serve you and your loved ones. Maybe you will even belt out a few carols while you finish wrapping those gifts.

Merry Christmas. 

Peace, Shalom, Namaste,

Connie

Connie Bowman is an actress, author, host of the podcast Happy Healthy You! and yoga teacher who teaches at various places around Howard County, MD. For more about her visit www.conniebowman.com.