.Happiness.

He sat grinning ear to ear in a jail cell among a purse thief, a teen who “should have known better”, and an alcoholic who didn’t know where she was yet. The man smiling had innocently cut down a few trees near his property line and it landed him in this cell with the others, facing a hefty fine. A guard walked up and knocked on the bars, fixing his gaze on the cheerful man.

“Why are you smiling?! I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you!” the guard sputtered.

“You can try to make my life hell sir, but you can’t take my happiness. You can’t take my smile.” he politely responded.

Xavier is a friend of mine who lives with his beautiful wife in Spain. I was delighted when he shared this story with me because it truly fits his personality in every way. While he was telling it, he was giddy, laughing about the ridiculous amount of money those trees cost him. You’d think most people would tell a story like this and be upset, holding a grudge and frustrated with the law itself. But not Xavier, he just laughs.

Lately I’ve thought a lot about this story and the many people I know who have gone through the process of divorce. I see how easily individuals get lost in what lawyers, judges, or even friends tell them. It makes it increasingly difficult to listen to your heart when all of those opinions are surrounding you. Personally, I’ve watched my mom, dad, husband, and many others endure great suffering due to this and I’ve been inspired lately to share Xavier’s example of pure happiness.

Whenever someone tries to push you around or manipulate you, smile.

Whenever life throws you a new curve ball, laugh.

The truth is, it works. It has been proved by social scientist Amy Cuddy and her colleagues that your mind follows your body language. In one of her speeches, she explains how our minds react to the position of our bodies. Observe your body right now, are you slumped, legs crossed, head down? Or are your shoulders pushed out, hands on your hips, and head up? Are you smiling, frowning, or straight faced? Either way, it directly affects your mood and your confidence.

As I said, it has been a bit rocky lately trying to push aside the past and rebuild the future but I take relief in knowing that I have control over my own happiness. No one owns it but me. So the next time circumstances test your limits, trying lifting your head, smiling and saying, “you can try to make my life hell, but you can’t take my happiness. You can’t take my smile.”

.Amenamaste.

She woke up quietly, tip toed to the end of her bed, and things went silent. The cool ocean breeze from the bedroom window brushed across my face as I pretended to sleep. I kept anticipating her next move; the shower turning on, steps around the house, breakfast being made, but I heard nothing. Silence. It was just a few moments later that I heard a slight shift near the end of the bed and I understood. My girlfriend Jen was meditating.

After she was finished and walked out of the room I dragged myself out of the covers behind her and started asking questions. I wanted to know how she achieved such a state of mind, how long she had been doing this, where she bought the soft pillow to sit on and the cool metal emblems she held in her hands while she meditated. The feeling in her room that morning was so peaceful, I wanted to know how to relive it. She gave me all the basics, but struck me with a comment that I’ve since thought a lot about.  Jen told me that before she starts mediating, she prays.

“Like, to God?”

“Yeah, to God, the Universe, whatever you believe in.”

Childhood memories of my mother immediately came to my mind. Waking up before school and peeking into her room, observing her on her knees whispering to God. To this day I love that sound, the stillness and peace coming from those quiet whispers. I’ve experienced prayer and meditation in different ways, but never incorporated them together. Call me naive, stubborn even, but I stopped praying when I left my church as a teen. Prayer has been a bit taboo for me since then. Why do it if I’m not religiously affiliated and who should I “whisper” to? All of that was answered this past weekend as I witnessed my good friend praying and meditating at the same time.

This morning I tried it. Before trudging over to the coffee pot like I would normally do, I sat in front of a big window looking out into the world. Crossing my legs, closed my eyes, and with my hands in a meditative position, I prayed. I gave gratitude for the world in front of me; my friends, family and husband. I expressed my appreciation for the guidance I’ve been given throughout my journey, then asked for an open heart and a quiet mind. I whispered, “Amen” and began meditating, ending it with a reverent bow towards the ground and a quiet, “Namaste”.

The experience was uplifting, soothing, energizing and fulfilling all at the same time. I laugh a little when I think about my  failed attempts at meditation in the past. I was missing prayer. I went back to the many years I prayed as a child, feeling disconnected from what I was saying, not knowing the intention behind it. I was missing meditation. I smile as I recognized this new revolution of thought, that religious or not, prayer and meditation make a beautiful couple.

Tomorrow morning, I plan on starting my day the same way and I challenge anyone reading to join me. Before settling into your normal routine, find a quiet place in your home, away from the kids or distractions. Start with a prayer and ask for silence of the mind. Then meditate and observe.

I’d like to thank my friend Jen for our “girls weekend” and opening my eyes to this new idea. Amenamaste.

Connecticut.

I do not share the meaning of my tattoos on a regular basis, nor do I tell the stories behind them, as I find it deeply personal and representative of an important space and time in my life.  In fact, I have made up stories and jokes that immediately get people off the topic and have become quite effective. But in the wake of the terror that happened this past Friday morning at Sandy Hook Elementary school in Newtown Connecticut, I’ve decided to share one of my tattoos with the blogging world. It is placed underneath my left arm and is lightly inscribed in gray cursive saying, “Sorrow is healed with love, laughter, and compassion.”

When I read the horrific news about a small elementary school in Connecticut Friday morning, I had the immediate reaction that most of us experienced. Anger. Hatred. Frustration. Confusion. More Anger. I couldn’t contemplate why someone would not only harm their mother and other adults, but then hurt and kill precious and innocent children. My mind was rotten with horrible thoughts and images of pain and suffering. What would they tell the parents? What was happening in our country? I’d seen shootings before, but children? Elementary schools? I cried, and cried, and punched a few pillows. It wasn’t until I saw the outpouring of tears and emotion, even from our president on live television, that I realized I wasn’t alone in my anger and sadness. In fact, the whole world was crying.

I can honestly say that my anger and frustration has not ceased. The more I see the images on television, the parents coming forward in grief, the innocent little faces broadcast on every news site, the more I feel that the pain in this country and in that town, is far from over. It is this reason that I look to my left arm many times a day and remind myself why I painted a permanent message that describes the healing process; Love, laughter, and compassion.

In times of grief and suffering, we must join together and do as Jesus taught, by loving one another fully and completely. We must learn to laugh, even when tears frequently glide past our cheeks. Lastly, we must have compassion, and in this specific case, even for the young man who committed such a heinous crime. None of us truly know the horror he felt, or what was going on behind closed doors.

Tonight as the sky cries and the cold sets in, I am still angry, frustrated, and my heart is completely broken for the families of the victims, as well as a community that may never fill this new void. But I am warm with the thought of my own family, who I will, as the president suggested, “hug a little tighter” and tell them how dearly they mean to me. I can promise you that through sorrow and grief, just like a tattoo, wounds can be healed leaving a scar or memory as a reminder of our strength. May we all hold the scar of this latest shooting as a reminder to keep each other close and show compassion in a violent world. God bless Sandy Hook Elementary, the families, and the whole community of Newtown. Keep praying.

2013.Vision.

I had my 6 month dentist check-up a couple days ago and I’m very happy to say I have been cavity free for 23 years of my life (I know you’ve all been wondering). I’ve never had any problems with my teeth, or gums. In fact, I am one of the few in this world that actually look forward to the dentist so he can pat me on the back and say, “well done Haley”. Funny as this may seem, I attribute my dental perfection to my mother, who wouldn’t let me leave the house or go to sleep in the evenings without brushing my teeth. Eventually, it became a habit of mine and as a result, I have spent many years of my life loving my dentist. This story might seem a bit odd but I am using a simple act, such as brushing teeth, as an example of how we teach ourselves big and small habits that eventually shape who we are.

It’s a hard concept for me to allow myself to accept, but one that continues to stand true. Simply put, we create the world we believe in. We accept what we think we deserve and we love as deeply as we feel we are loved. All of this forming around habits, which sometimes feel impossible to break. Allow me to explain…

At the age 19 I remember sitting for hours every day, working at a job I hated, in a bad relationship and gaining weight because I wasn’t exercising. All of the while I would justify my life as “what God gave me” or “the cards I was dealt”. One of my co-workers walked past me one day and made a comment about me starting to get “cankles”, or “fat ankles” in a joking manner.  At first I tried to laugh it off but then it started to get to me. You see, I didn’t have enough confidence in myself at the time to brush hurtful things off my shoulders. I took his comments and told myself “it must be true or he wouldn’t say that.” I accepted what I thought I deserved.

As deeply as it hurt, it also encouraged me to re-examine who I was and who I really wanted to be. I wasn’t living the life I wanted, in fact, I had created a place that was very unhappy. I wanted to be the fit, happier version of myself, one with confidence, spirituality and a person that could feel and give love more fully. My vision was clear and eventually it was with that vision that I started creating goals. I joined a gym and began a simple routine. Pretty soon, just like brushing my teeth, my gym routine became a habit, one that I craved every day. Not only this, but through the physical strength I gained day by day, I started to gain confidence as well, enough so that I quit my job to find something that made me happier. The love I started to feel for myself turned into love for others and so on. I look at my years before that pivotal “cankles” moment and almost laugh at the way I thought things happened. Back then, I truly believed that I could wish, pray or hope for good things without doing the work myself, not taking any responsibility for the good or bad circumstances in my life. I learned hands on that you cannot achieve goals without vision, and you cannot create your vision, without changing your habits. Big or small, habits must be broken before a new you can emerge.

From then, to now, I can honestly say I am the person I envisioned when I was 19, but even more than that. With that first vision I accomplished many more things than just living better, I gained friends, found true love, and continue to surprise myself. This may seem a bit narcissistic, but the point is, creating a new vision instead of JUST setting goals this year is the first step in changing habits and ultimately, your life. For 2013 I have done some “re-envisioning”, looking at where my life is today, and envisioning what it can be in the future.  Some habits I have decided to keep because they are serving me well, but others, gotta go.

Hard times come, and as human beings, we are faced with the unimaginable, but our visions of who we want to be can keep us from spiraling downwards and inspire us to spiral up. If you are like me, and want to continue to spiral up then observe your own habits and recognize which ones are keepers and which ones need to be thrown out. Just like brushing our teeth in the morning, we can all create a space in our daily routine to envision who we want to be and then do things that will bring us to it. This way, every 6 months we can look back and congratulate ourselves, saying “well done (insert name here)”.

Death vs. Joy

I’ve had this burning desire to write lately, but couldn’t pin point what I needed to write about or how to clear my head of the thoughts that have been ravaging my mind for the last few days. All that changed when I went to my friend Carly’s dads funeral this morning. It was in that meeting, when I was faced with my own mortality, that I realized what it was I should write about.

It’s hard to explain, this feeling of dread we all go through, knowing that some day, the person in that casket or vase will be you. Naturally as humans we push that thought away, afraid, and nervous to confront it, but every so often, an incident happens and we are forced to look ourselves in the eye and come to terms with reality.We will all die. Sounds  awful for me to say, and my heart goes to my throat when I think about the pain and heartache that lies ahead for all of us. Death is not a fun subject, which is why I’d like to switch the pain I feel in talking about it, into joy.

I recently asked my Grandma Joy if she was afraid to die, and she simply said, “No, because I have lived and I have loved.” What a perfect example of what these mortal bodies are capable of. Living and loving. What a gift! When the thought of death approaches my mind, instead of being afraid, my goal is to focus on the legacy I one day will leave. So I ask myself, and I ask you today, have you lived? Truly lived. And have you loved? Simply loved.

To me, living means an early morning breakfast on my patio, a late night dinner with friends, a smooth malbec wine with my husband and spending quality time with the ones I love most. That is my idea of what it means to live. Everyones idea is different, but I couldn’t describe living without the word love, and I doubt you could either. When I was at that funeral today, all I saw was love. No one was judged by what they were wearing, or who’s hand they were holding, there was only the memory of the lost, and the love everyone shared. I think the job of a funeral is to beautifully humble people.

I watched a movie lately called, “Bully”, which I highly recommend, about kids in our schools who suffer from the attacks of other children and who are brought to their breaking points. It mentioned many names of 11-18 year olds who have killed themselves in the last year. I was so frustrated when I walked about of the theater! Who is teaching these young bullies, HOW to bully? Then I came to realize that it is the examples that they see from adults. Even as adults we bully each other because of our differences, we manipulate others to get our way, and we make fun of those who we  see as different. WE are the bullies, and young children are learning from us. WE are not teaching them how to LIVE and LOVE. They shouldn’t have to wait until someone close to them dies before they realize how important we all are or how precious life is.

I am tired of the gossip, the hate, and the intolerance. Something has to change, and I truly believe it starts with one voice. For me, that voice was my Grandma Joy’s when she said she wasn’t afraid anymore, because she had “lived and loved”. She never mentioned a specific way of life, or faith, just that she had lived and loved. My intention as a human being has shifted. I’ve decided to let go of all the fears of death, live with every part of my soul, and love with every part of my heart. Death is inevitable folks, so start your legacy, and make it one you are proud of.

.1996.

I only have one memory of my mom and dad being together as a married couple. It was 1996 and my dad walked me and my 4 siblings into the living room of our cozy house in Mendon, Utah and kissed us all goodbye. He was leaving my mother and moving out. Devastation. That’s the only word.

For the longest time that memory haunted me and plagued many sleepless nights. I felt as if my family would never move past that feeling of loneliness and sorrow. I was 7 years old and couldn’t fully comprehend my dads reasons for moving away although, I was old enough to know he loved me, but young enough to blame myself. I guess that is part of the confusion for kids with divorcing parents right?

Trust me, the divorce and learning my dad was gay (small detail) was not easy, especially coming from a very religious community that not only turned their back on my father, but also gave me and my siblings a hard time for circumstances that were not under our control. We paid our price and cried enough tears to fill Salt Lake, but through all the heartache there has been a lot of good. For example, I see my siblings growing and developing in their own families now and marvel at how strong and wonderful they have become. From our childhood challenges, we have all become better humans…more accepting and understanding human beings. It is truly beautiful.

As I sit here tonight, on the weekend of fathers day, I can’t help but reminisce on the memories I’ve had with my own dad, (good and bad), and be grateful to him for being so brave and accepting who HE is, so we could all grow and become better people. God doesn’t make mistakes and my dad needed to leave our family to become who he is, and I’m proud of him. It was difficult for all of us, especially my mom, but I see the purpose in all of it more and more every day.

That memory in 1996, hanging on my dads legs and begging him to stay, is starting to dim… in it’s place stands a milestone of change, forgiveness, learning and acceptance. A lifetime of unconditional love. I wouldn’t change it if I could.

 

.reunite.reach.out.let.go.LOVE

A family reunion. I know what your thinking… cat fights between the aunts, comparisons between cousins, looking for the next potential teen pregnancy in the family out of the corner of your minds eye. It’s pretty classic isn’t it? Sad, classic, but true. Every family has their deep seeded issues that were never talked about or resolved and we remember that one person in the family we never really figured out; the “black sheep’s” or the outsider’s looking in. Happens every year for most, maybe even twice a year for the unlucky ones. Ha

Growing up, I thought my family was perfect. Two amazing parents, poppa was a doctor, and momma was a slim, blonde, and beautiful stay at home mom with five perfect children. We were living the dream, or so everyone thought. No one knew that a giant rainbow flag was going to cover our dream house in 1996. At the time, when my dad came out and divorced my mom, I thought my whole world was crushed to tiny little pieces and I observed my whole world turn into this game of chess between my sibling and my parents, trying to get our pieces in order. It was quite the struggle and our family became the “talk of the town”… I can’t even begin to put into words what our family reunions were like. It felt like everyone was talking to each other but looking in our direction out of the corner of their eyes.

All of this should be a painful memory right? But, looking back I mostly remember the lessons I’ve learned from that experience. I remember the look on my mothers face when she continued to pray to God for support and help, how she leaned on God and on her faith to forgive my father and move forward. I remember my dad’s smile when he introduced us to Craig, the love of his life, and how happy he seemed in that moment. He was finally free to love whomever he chose. I remember my sister, so beautiful as a dancer in high school, the leader of our family, standing up for my dad and living her faith to it’s fullest by getting married in the temple to her husband of 10 years now. And last but not least, I remember my brothers, protecting me, loving me, and becoming more of a dad to me every single day. They never let me forget how hard they would punch the first guy who tried to break my heart. I remember EVERYONE learning lessons and overcoming obstacles that seemed impossible. Sure, those years were rough, but I wouldn’t trade them, not for anything in the world. They have made me who I am, and shaped my family into the most amazing people I know.

From the year 1996 to 2011, I have learned to forgive & forget, accept everything I can not change, pray, lean on God, trust my intuition, be the bigger person, let go of pride,  stand up for someone who can’t defend themselves, ask questions, be smart, but most of all, I’ve learned to love.

So, during your next family reunion, just remember, we are all learning lessons and even the seemingly “perfect” are learning something with you. We all contribute to the things we learn every single day. We are all teachers. Welcome the “black sheep” or the teenager who won’t turn down the music into your loving arms. Teach them how to love without saying a word. Isn’t that truly what family is all about?

Perfectionism

To be perfect, or not to be perfect, can that really be a question? No, not really. In fact, I’m coming to realize that NO ONE is perfect and NO ONE has a choice. After 21 years of attempting I still can’t seem to get it right.

I used to believe that there was some “kind” of perfect. All I needed to do was please the people around me and I would end up being the perfect daughter, sister, friend, and girlfriend. But it turns out, I can not accomplish such a hefty task. For example, being the perfect daughter or sister is impossible because I don’t have the same beliefs as the rest of my family, being the perfect friend is impossible because I would have to become selfless, and let’s face it, I’m not. Last but not least, being the perfect girlfriend is totally out of the question because at times I feel insecure, jealous, and yes, I do have episodes of PMS.

So, I am learning to accept the facts and learn how to be okay with being imperfect. I’m learning that even though I can’t please my family with my religious beliefs, at least I can show how much I love and care for them with or without the Bible or Book of Mormon. I’m striving to be a better friend with everything I do, and attempting to be more unselfish without losing myself in the process. And I am learning that the best girlfriend I can be just means communicating my insecurities, throwing my jealousy away, and taking Midol twice daily during my special time of the month. If I do all these things and take care of myself in the process I will not only be a better person in general, but I’ll be the most perfect, imperfect Haley B. Jones there is.