Posts tagged Meagan Francis
Santosha, And The Discomfort In Not Knowing

For most of my adult life I’ve self-identified as a butt-kicker. I launched a writing career in my early 20s, while raising a houseful of small children; published several books by the time I was 30, and have re-invented myself through hard times and career shifts more times than I can count. I’ve never met a problem I can’t hustle my way out of.

At least, that’s what I’ve always told myself.

Maybe that’s partly why, after a rough holiday that included your typical divorced-parent stressors and regrets, plus the unexpected addition of a sudden and painful breakup, I dove headlong into a New Year’s challenge at my yoga studio. The challenge? To take 60 studio classes, in two months (59 days, since February is a short month, but who’s counting?).

In my typically action-oriented way, I reasoned that keeping busy would help me: create a distraction, give me something else to focus on rather than playing and re-playing scenarios in my head.

And it has helped – immensely, actually, but not always for the reasons I anticipated at the beginning.

On the first day of the challenge, my instructor talked about santosha which was the studio’s focus for the month of January. Santosha is a Sanskrit word that can be loosely translated to mean “contentment”.

I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty happy person, so I wasn’t sure what lessons I’d be able to glean from this particular focus. But. “It’s not about being happy – that’s a different thing,” my instructor explained that first day of January. “Santosha means finding contentment with what is happening right now, even if it’s hard or negative.”

Wait. Being content with what is? Like, right now? You mean, instead of trying to fix it?

But what if “what is”, you know, sucks?

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Bodies, Mindfulness, Family, Anxiety, FeelingsK.C. CliffordMeagan Francis
When You Don’t Know What To Do, Try Connecting

After many years of hiatus, I recently began going to church again.

I hadn’t lost my faith, exactly. In retrospect, I had just gotten tired. Sunday-morning services, once meaningful to me, started feeling like a chore; the messages, often conflicting from church to church, became more confusing than clarifying. I didn’t know what to believe, so it seemed easier to simply believe nothing, or at least, not to think about it very hard. And as often happens when people have a spiritual crisis, I simply drifted away.

But in January I decided one Sunday morning to pop into a church that had been recommended by a few friends, and I’ve been going pretty regularly ever since.

It’s kind of a stretch to call this Sunday morning gathering “church” at all, at least in the traditional sense. There are no obvious hierarchies, no written statement of belief, no objects of sacrament. The congregation doesn’t recite creeds or sing hymns – instead, a (fantastic) band comes out every so often and performs a mix of secular and religious songs, after which we clap – a pretty un-churchy thing to do, but a huge relief for someone like me, who always feels just plain weird not applauding someone’s performance.

The services take place in the high school auditorium, with the house darkened so all eyes gravitate toward the stage. The speaker (I don’t think anyone is referred to as a pastor) delivers a fully-executed presentation that incorporates video and other multi-media elements, punctuated only by well-timed breaks for another song, and always with a conclusion that brings it all home so the message lands every time.

The “congregation” doesn’t have to do anything beyond watch and learn. The whole thing is so non-traditional, that the first few times I went I jokingly referred to it as a “Ted Talk For God”.

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Spirituality, Empathy, Radical Kindness, FeelingsK.C. CliffordMeagan Francis