The Beginning of the World as We Create It

     On December 21, the rumor went, the Mayans predict the end of the world.  Remember?  I've been reading some new information about that.  Some of it seems to suggest that when they figured out how the cycle runs they just didn't bother to repeat it.  The calendar doesn't end so much as it has a coda.  But it is also the so-called dawning of the Age of Aquarius with a remarkable astronomical phenomenon which will take place when heavenly bodies line up in a way not to happen for another gazillion years.  While my jury is still out about astrology, I'm a believer in energy.  Does the moon afffect the tides and our emotions?  Is Reiki any stranger than Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle?  Western science and ancient healing practices all seem to be converging in their ideas of energy as life force.
     Collective consciousness is a form of energy.  How many of you read or listen to the news?  What you are consuming is certainly information, but it's not the only information there is.  It is the information that sells.  But if that is all we consume, our collective consciousness creates an energy that supports a fear-based world.  Here's news you may not have heard:  

• Belo Horizonte, Brazil ended hunger in its city because it chose to regard food as a human right.  And it is engaging local farmers to help.
• Farming community Wildpoldsried, Germany produces 321% more energy than it needs and is generating $5.7 million in annual revenue, all by choosing to go as green as possible.   
• 17-year-old Angela Zhang's after school project could lead to a potential cure for cancer. 

Imagine our collective energy if these were the lead stories, and war and corruption were relegated to small items in the backwater of the media.  The world could be heaven on Earth.
     So rather than think of December 21 as the end of the world as we know it, you are invited to think of it as a beginning.  Set aside some time to contemplate, write, or create a ritual as a way to lead you into the world as you imagine it.  What do you want to see?  How do you want to be?  How can you co-create with others?  If you need some inspiration, let me direct you to servicespace.org.  I'm volunteering with them, and let me tell you, the world is a beautiful place there!  Please visit it.  Then raise a glass with me and toast the Mayans on "New Age's Eve."

Pax tecum.

Faith over Fear Part One

     What is your life about?  What are the core values?  What do you want it to mean when it is done?  I ask myself these questions on a daily basis.  The answers are easy:  I want to be of service, I want to lead a more prayerful, mindful life, and I want to be wildly philanthropic.  I can't think of a more delightful way to pass my mortal hours than making someone's life a little lighter, putting more wholesome energy into the world, and supporting the work of others to make the world a better place.  This is no Miss America acceptance speech;  I mean it, down in the bones of my soul.  My life is about service through writing, teaching, facilitating, speaking, prayer, and philanthropy.  I want to use these gifts so much it hurts.
     At the same time, I have to pay bills; I want to participate in society.  That takes money.  Problem is I've never been comfortable holding down a job.  Nine to five, office politics, commuting--all of this just drains me, and it never really allows me to fulfill my mission unless I do that in my spare time.  Such a life is not for me, despite the fact that I have spent years doing it.  It seems such a waste.  I love "working."  I want to be supported through my work. I hate holding down "jobs."  But I've sacrificed my gifts and desires in order to make money.  I've given up my Life to do life.  
     Exactly two years ago I quit my job, expecting my dream to come true in a flash.  Instead my life went haywire.  The paid work I intended to do did not pan out.  Money was running short.  I was swinging from inspiration to abject terror on a regular basis.  I knew what I wanted to do, but how could I pull in the money?  Stay the course...no, get a job...no, stay the course....  I drove myself to distraction and anguish.  How do I get this to sync up?  But in that chaos and pain, here's what I learned:  When I was able to still the fear, things began to flow.  While the "jobs" I pursued evaded me, money came to me in the nick of time in the form of gifts and unexpected work.  
     Another such financial precipice was looming before me recently.  Not knowing how I would get through the next few months, I finally surrendered and sent up a prayer a few days ago saying, "I'm going to trust that things will work out.  I've got my passions for a reason, and holding down a job I don't really want interferes with fulfilling my mission even if it is taking care of me financially.  God, you have to figure this out for me, because I cannot."  And despite not knowing how this would play out, I let go of the fear, the confusion, the waffling, and I trusted.  I chose to live my Life on my terms.  I chose to be at peace.  A few days later, I unexpectedly received some inheritance money that will allow me to do all of the above for the next three months!
   This is the fifth time some work or monetary gift has come out of nowhere to help me.  Once is an interesting phenomenon.  Twice is a coincidence.  But five is a pattern, and it's trustworthy.  I don't know what will happen three months from now, and I am beginning to believe that's not my problem.  Until the end of February, I will be living my dream life, serving wherever I can, being philanthropic, developing a deeper contemplative and prayer-filled life. Because when God answers a prayer, I am obliged to fulfill my end of the bargain.
     To lead the life of our heart's desire requires us to let go of fear in order for the Universe to work with us.  We read this in many different spiritual traditions:

• In Zen Buddhism we find in the Five Mindfulness Trainings - I will practice coming back to the present moment to be in touch with the refreshing, healing and nourishing elements in me and around me, not letting regrets and sorrow drag me back into the past nor letting anxieties, fear, or craving pull me out of the present moment. 
• From the Christ's Sermon on the Mount - Do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 
• From the Five Precepts of Reiki - Just for today I will be free from worry.  
• In Mary Baker Eddy's "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" - Always begin your treatment by allaying the fear of the patients.  Silently reassure them as to their exemption from disease and danger.  Watch the result of this simple rule of Christian Science, and you will find that it alleviates the symptoms of every disease.  If you succeed in wholly removing the fear your patient is healed.

This fascinates me.  These very different traditions all point to fear as that which separates us from our higher self, from wholeness, from fulfilling our purpose, from God.  So now I want to live my life as an experiment.  If I follow my heart's desire to be of service, to be philanthropic, to lead a more contemplative and prayerful life, does God provide the means?  It certainly seems so.  I deeply believe it is time to let go of my faith as an intellectual construct and give it breath and blood.  One does not live an extraordinary life by being conventional or buying into fears.  I don't know what my prospects will look like three months from now.  I no longer have to.  In the next three months, I will live the life I have longed for, in service, in peace, in congruence with my beliefs and values.  I'll let you know how it goes.

     If you could reduce your fear, how would you spend your life's energy, your gifts, your time?  I'd love to know.  Let me invite you to comment here, and share support and inspiration with others.

Pax tecum.

BSUR

     "BSUR, SUC, SIMIM*."
     I can always count on a James Taylor song for theme music in my life.  Do you get it?  No?  Read the letters individually.
     Whenever I get to thinking I need to do more to make a difference, life shakes me up, brushes me off, and sets my thought aright again.  It was the day before Thanksgiving when I heard a knock on my door.  It was my young neighbor, Juan, with a beautiful floral arrangement for me.  
     "This is from my grandmother.  She says you are so wonderful, and she wanted you to have this."
 Juan and his grandparents, Luis and Maria, are from Puerto Rico.  Juan is bilingual; Luis and Maria speak sólo españoles; I speak English and really poor French.  I gave them some tomatoes from my garden when they moved in this summer,  and I smile and wave hello when I see them; that's as far as we can get.  Luis is retired with a heart condition.  He looks and walks like Thich Nhat Hanh.  But to keep busy he repairs the home he rents, rakes his leaves...pulls out the grass in my driveway cracks, brings in my garbage barrel, rakes my leaves...his generosity is stunning.  All I can do is offer effusive Italian hand gestures akin to throwing kisses and bake oatmeal cookies.  So what the heck was Maria thinking?
     "Juaaaaaaan!"  I said after picking my jaw up off the ground.  "I don't do anything for your grandmother!  My Lord, this is so beautiful!"
     "No, no.  She thinks you are so good.  She wishes she could talk to you, though."
     I looked up and saw her standing on the second floor deck.  Barefoot, I ran across the driveway and up the steps to give her a big hug and kiss.  "Merry."  You thought the word was used only with "Christmas," didn't you?  Maria is "merry" personified.  She just beams when she is delighted, and chuckles they way my Grandma Daddona did; they are so much alike.  Juan followed up behind, and I made him translate for me:  "Tell her I will write her letters.  I can translate them on the computer and put them in your mailbox.  Then she can write back, put her letters in my box, and I'll translate those."  He did so, and Maria got even merrier.

My beta apple vs Maria's alpha apple

     But wait, there's more!  Two hours later there was another knock on my door.  This time it was Luis with a bulging plastic shopping bag.  Again, the language barrier being what it is, I relied on facial expressions to go through the gamut of "hello," "what's in here?" "oh my stars," and "thank you."  I think I managed "gracias" for the latter.   Then, with peace as every step, the Latino Buddhist monk glided back across the driveway.  Inside were three apples, six bananas, and three sweet potatoes each the size of a basketball.  I'm serious.  One apple could feed a family of four.  I'm betting that in a former life Luis and Maria were the ones responsible for the loaves and fishes when Jesus fed the multitude.  Did their generosity know no bounds?  Apparently not.  And what the heck did I do to deserve it?
     Well, it seems just being as I am is all it took.  Seeing them, smiling to them, and making silly gestures tell them that this middle-aged American white woman is safe, accepting, and enjoys talking with their beloved grandson.  Seeing myself through the eyes of another culture tells me that an open heart is more valuable than a job title or how much education I have or how I maintain my driveway.  Without language, we can sense the best in each other, because we hear with our hearts.  And so they inspire me to BSIM in the best way possible all the time.  As do you, my Gentle Readers.

Pax tecum.

*From the album Flag

Stranger than Fiction

     This is pretty much what I looked like when I read the email a few days ago.
     I had given up on an even part-time career in voice overs due to the never-ending equipment problems I was having in my home studio.  You can't market yourself if you can't trust your software.  Given that realization, I was ready to ask my web designer (Bob Tyrrell, he's the best!) to take down the site when this email came in:  
     I found you on the web and wondered if you'd be interested in a voice over job.  The budget is $XXX.  The script is attached.
     No fool, I, immediately I googled this company and the client they represented.  Both really exist and are quite legitimate.  But I was getting out of voice overs.  He may not want someone who's never done a gig before.  What happens when he finds out I no longer have working equipment,  maybe I should...shut up.  I wrote back with a yes.  This was one of those times when my higher self actually trumped my ego and propelled me into the fear of the unknown.
     What makes this so improbable is that NO ONE GOOGLES FOR VOICE OVER TALENT!  Even a fool knows there are studios and web brokers like voice123.com you contact to find someone.  I figured George was a rookie.  He wasn't.  I was warned by coaches and talent that people could be difficult to work with.  He wasn't.  I told him I no longer had my own studio and would have to record somewhere external.  He gave me more money.  He didn't do anything extravagant, he wasn't effusive in his dealings with me.  Simply, he was a pro with a good attitude.  And in my eyes, that made him trustworthy. 
     This meant I could share my good fortune with Jim, the owner and engineer of the studio I had in mind.  Things have been tough for him, as they are for the 99% in these economic times.  But he is a generous soul nonetheless.  He gave me a very fair price for his services saying, "I don't have to gouge someone to make a living.  I just want to be able to take care of myself and do a good job."  I knew I was in the right hands.
     Then George contacted me again.  The client wanted me to record a longer script for their website.  Could I give him a quote for that and record it at the same time as the other?  "Make sure it's fair for you," George admonished.  I gave him my fee, and he didn't flinch.  More money!  And more fun, since I loved the three-minute script.
     I rehearsed the copy, got feedback from John, and was able to improve my delivery.  I also made a point to remove all fear from my consciousness.  After all, I reasoned, this was a gift from God.  Why would I trash such an extraordinary gift with my anxieties?  What an insult!  Besides, it was an opportunity to be of service, a big value in my life.  So I went to the studio feeling at peace about my abilities yet jazzed about this opportunity.  Nothing goes perfectly.  I blew the first line on the first read.  But rather than get upset, I said, "Great!  Got that out of the way."  Then went on to give two nearly flawless reads.  The other scripts were just as carefree.  When it was all over, George said there would probably be more work for me, so he'll keep me on their roster.
     What an extraordinary gift this was!  Completely out of the blue.  And I was able to give some business to a terrific engineer as well.  When the check comes in, I will also be tithing to a couple of local food banks so that even more can share in my good fortune.  This is the stuff one only sees in the movies.  It can't possibly happen in real life.  But then again, life is stranger than fiction.  And why George chose to find a talent through Google, I may never know.  But am I grateful!
      I wish you many blessings this Thanksgiving week, and I hope you will share your gratitudes with others in the comment field below.  I'd love to hear your good news.  We all would!

Pax tecum.
    

Share Your Light, Not Your Oil

     Frequently I find myself thinking of service versus income.  As strange as that may seem to you, it is a real dilemma for me...and others as I have discovered.  We want to live a life of service, and while many can use our help, they haven't the means to pay for it.  So we do things for free or way below the amount needed to sustain ourselves.  We want to believe this is right, but it feels draining.  And yet to focus on how to make income feels as though we are putting the emphasis on the wrong driver. 
     But I may have had a breakthrough.  Recently I listened to a truly inspirational recording of a workshop about fulfilling our purpose.  In essence, it is imperative to live our purpose for the love of it, for the love of others, so everything can happen in the best way possible.  Otherwise things will be off kilter.  One participant asked where you draw the line between unselfish love and being a doormat or martyr.  "Yes!" I shouted to the laptop.  "That's what I want to know, too!"  The speaker, Chet Manchester, then gave this quote:  "Share your light, not your oil."
     When we really are fulfilling our purpose, God or the Highest Good is working through us, and that light is what we share.  But when we give too much of our time or energy, when we begin to feel exhausted, we can be sure we are giving of our oil because our divine nature has mingled with our ego.  We give from our need to feel valued, or an overdeveloped sense of guilt or responsibility.  We grow to resent others or hurt ourselves, and then there is no way to sustain our light.  You know what this feels like: someone sucking the marrow out of your bones.  Or indeed, you feel like you are the one dependent upon another's energy to feed you.  To be absolutely clear, we all occasionally need the help of others.  And that is indeed a blessing because giving and receiving keep the divine energy in a gorgeous, meandering flow.  It's what makes the world go round.  But when need becomes a lifestyle choice it's time to take note and do something different both for our sake and that of others.
     Coincidentally I was sharing this with an acquaintance who said something powerful.  Quoting Bible, she noted that Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself."  "You notice he didn't say more than yourself.  There has to be an equal respect between yourself and another."  I had never considered that before.  Mutuality requires appropriate boundaries.  Just as floodgates can open and close for the best use of water power, so “yes” and “no” do likewise.  Hearing “no” in response to a request, I must consider that another person or a wider perspective may better serve my need.  Saying “no” may be your way of teaching another how to fish.
     So keep your wick trimmed and your lamp full.  Then shine on, glorious Light.  Shine on!

Pax tecum.
    

Losing Consciousness

     Aside from heavy duty narcotics for which I was most grateful during my battle with a kidney stone, the next best way to lose consciousness is through the creative process.  I marvel at those artists, composers, writers, designers who give up the normal thought process and go someplace else entirely for very long periods of time.  

     Recently John and I chanced upon an art show up in Litchfield one Sunday afternoon.  The community center was chockablock with everything from pottery to weavings, from oils to jewelry.  What imagination these people had, and what time they spent not only in execution but in the process of conceiving.  How extraordinary it seems to me to see something so deeply that it confounds the rational brain.  I found myself standing before Rita Paradis' White Vessels, a pastel piece that was a still life in white.  But I could not stop gazing at the evidence that it was not white at all but various shades of pale greens, violets, and blues.  With a cursory glance the brain will register just white.
     Yesterday I read the obituary of composer and Pulitzer Prize winner Elliott Carter who died at 103 and was composing up until earlier this year.  He had studied with Danbury native Charles Ives (who sold insurance to the Carter family).  Talk about history!  His music was complex and difficult to grasp. He is quoted in the New York Times:  “As a young man, I harbored the populist idea of writing for the public.  I learned that the public didn’t care. So I decided to write for myself. Since then, people have gotten interested.” Oh, to have the courage of one's unique gift and break the ground of new ideas!  You can listen to Carter's Cello Sonata to hear for yourself.
     So here am I, desiring to write, and yet dodging the muse with every excuse I can find.  I don't want to give up control of my thoughts to her.  She will infiltrate my being and take over, confuse me, infuriate me, exhaust me.  And yet, why do I insist upon writing?  I write to discover questions that had never occurred to me before.  I write to explore their answers.  I write to see if there are personal Truths I need to examine.  I ask myself if these are universal Truths. Then I just put it out there.  Most people do not respond to any of these blogs.  But I decided when I first started them this was simply a way for me to show up and do the writing.  It's not that I don't care what you think about my pieces or if you choose to read them at all.  It's just that I care more about the process.    
     So here's my question for you:  What are you willing to lose consciousness for?  Where does your muse take you?  What do you learn?  And are you willing to share it with others?

Pax tecum.
  

Connecting in Chaos

     Sandy was quite a gal!  Since most of my readers are from Connecticut, I send out my hopes that you are well, warm, and safe.  By some grace or luck, my neighborhood escaped both damage and power outages.  My parents are shuttling between my home and my sister's since they are without power.  I have not been able to reach Supercuts the next town over for a haircut, so clearly their power has not been restored.  I have not heard back from a client in Bridgeport for whom I am supposed to start a job.  (These are not complaints but observations.)  Then I read that New York City is crippled.  Subway tunnels are flooded, the city is running out of gasoline.   I feel as though I am living in a dream while everyone else around me must feel they are living in a nightmare.  The disparity in fortune is mind-boggling.
     Lately John and I have mutually expressed our desire to live more simply.  But what we also discover is that the added benefit of this is the development of deeper and wider connections with others.  Simplicity cannot be about rugged individualism.  It must be about mutual support. We need less when we can share more.  When we offer a chain saw, a sofa to sleep on, or space in our garage we have cause to connect, to freely give to others what we have in abundance.  We participate in what is called the gift economy.  And nothing brings people closer together than that.  Whatever divisiveness we may have sensed in the upcoming elections seems to have yielded to more immediate needs and a concern for others on a local level.  Would that we could see each other across the country--or even across the county--as our next door neighbors and nurture that sense of connection all the time.
     This posting today will be brief.  In the face of this much upheaval there is little I can say that would have any use.  But I can offer a hot shower, a hot meal, and some company to those of you living in my area who might need something.  And if you are looking for something to do, just keep in mind that the Red Cross is in dire need of blood.  If you can make a donation, please consider it.  
     My prayers and love are with you all.

Pax tecum.

Reflections in Fur: Part Deux

     Okay.  I succumbed to feline mind control.  Larry decided he'd had it with outdoor living, so he just barged into my house one day and wouldn't leave.  He is endearing, affectionate, and absolutely infatuated with me, but he's gunning for Bucky.  As I feared, Larry is an unneutered male.  Territorial with a capital "T."  It has been a trying three weeks as I attempt to keep the two at bay.  When I took Larry to the vet for his shots, it was discovered that he has the feline version of HIV.  While Bucky has had his shot for this, it is not 100% effective against the disease, especially since it is transmitted by blood.  And what better way to transmit blood than by fighting tooth and claw?  So not only must I keep the two of them apart for Bucky's sake, I cannot let Larry outdoors anymore.  He is forever under quarantine.
     The vet suggested I put Larry up for adoption with someone who might take a special-needs cat.  I called animal rescue shelters and sent out gobs of emails, but to no avail.  Thankfully Bucky loves the outdoors and is being a good sport about this, but it's getting cold and wet out there.  So I put Larry in the laundry room when I go to sleep or leave for a few hours so that Bucky can sneak in, eat, drink, and relax a bit.
     So what was Larry reflecting for me?  Trust.  When faced with intractable problems, I send up a prayer:  "Make a way out of no way."  I was having major fears.  Would I need to give Bucky up for adoption for his health's sake?  Would I make myself crazy trying to keep two cats apart for the rest of their lives?  Could I afford his upkeep?  But through it all, the Still Small Voice just said, "Wait.  Give this time.  There's a solution."  And so, I put my fears aside and trusted; what else was I to do?
     A few days later my vet called to inquire if I had found a placement for Larry.  I told her no.  "Well, I just had a client come in who's looking for a companion for his quarantined FIV cat.  Here's his number.  He'd like to talk to you."  Colin and I spoke for a good long time.  This man is serious about cats; he has eight!  And his home is set up to accommodate each of them with their varying needs.  After his family visited here, they all decided that Larry would be a good match for Skittles.  To top it off, they graciously offered to take the neutering responsibility off my hands, saving me a bundle of money!
     Larry will go to his new home November 2nd.  Bucky can return to the comfort of his home, and I can relax...with some tears to be sure.  Larry is a dear and I do love him.  But I know two things:  he'll be in good hands, and I can trust a Loving Power greater than my fears and limited resources to bring about a perfect solution.  I hope this inspires you to trust more, too.

Pax tecum.
    

Pray to the Moon

O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb

Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, II,ii 

 

     Poor Juliet.  Not wanting Romeo to swear on what is changeable she insists on the certainty of her new-found love lest she feel betrayed and broken if he prove fickle.  It is a lovely and understandable wish, especially when we are young and untempered.  As we grow older, we discover that  change is the only constant in life.  Change is life.  And while it can hold sorrows, so can living in stagnation.  When we risk our hearts and egos, we have so much to learn and share.

     During the summer I had an inspiration to teach a course called "I'm No Pigeon: A Career Workshop for the Unconventional," the namesake of this blog.  I imagined that, like me, there were others out there who were pursuing unconventional lives or desired to follow an unconventional career path.  I spent hours developing the curriculum, loving every minute of it, believing it would be useful and inspiring.  Our Adult Education program accepted the proposal, and it was launched.

     Imagine my surprise when one student wanted to learn how to start dating again and another wanted to stay in his current line of work but move to a new company.  This is not what I had planned.  I could have gotten annoyed if I believed they were not giving me what I wanted (the satisfaction of seeing my opus come to life).  Instead I chose to change the curriculum.  I had a few hours of doubt and anxiety; would this be anywhere near as good as my other program?  Would it be helpful?  Can I make this change successfully in my own mind--which is code for can I check my ego at the door and make this course about them instead of me?  But I listened for the common thread in their three goals.  Fear of change!  Well, whaddya know?  With this in mind, I pulled out a trusted book on the subject (Barbara Sher's Wishcraft.  Get it!), sent them pertinent chapters, and hoped for the best when the class met again.

     Fascinating commonalities surfaced for all of us.  Change is terrifying, but being stuck in paralysis is no longer tenable.  We must acknowledge our fears with deep compassion, a lot of good humor, and supportive companions.  My participants were inspired, reluctant, confused, pensive, on fire, laughing--anything but passive.  They were alive!  These good people are helping and inspiring each other--and me--to take more risks.  The course is not yet over, neither are their endeavors.  This is a continuing story, but one that is so satisfying to be a part of. 

     We all want the constancy of happiness and comfort, or at least the constancy of what we are accustomed to.  "The devil you know...." It is also the potential for a rut.  And when we change internally, what may once have been comfortable now makes us chafe.  Change can be sweet, challenging, breathtaking, heartbreaking.  But it engages us all the time.  So what better goddess to invoke than the Moon?  She changes but is constantly there, even if she is obscured by clouds or dips below our vision.  Pray to the Moon that you may face change with an open heart, an open mind, and open hands. 

Pax tecum.

Struggling with Easy

     Given my proclivity for self-improvement, I see what is difficult in my life and use it as a means to work through issues that are holding me back.  My body pain, my stressful jobs, my failed relationships, my financial uncertainty, it's all useful.  Well either I make it useful or I'll just curl up into the fetal position and cry, which on occasion I have done.  Living alone for 14 years has afforded me the freedom to explore all this, and my life is wonderful as a result since I've learned some powerful lessons about solitude and self-reliance. 
     Two months ago, a man entered my life.  We'll call him John--because that's his name.  It took only one afternoon together for us to realize we were very comfortable with each other.  We had so much in common--interests, values, humor--that it was like reconnecting with a long lost best friend.  And as I had always hoped it would happen, we each fell in love with our best friend.  Cue the lush music.
     Those of you who know me know I am living a highly unconventional life of existential exploration. And without a life's partner, I can just live it, no questions asked.  Now John is in my life.  We spend a lot of time together sharing households, meals, ideas, delights and frustrations.  We are negotiating how and when we do things.  He is getting to know my family.  Then I started to talk about my lifestyle and aspirations.  With no small amount of anxiety, I described how I wanted to live with more occupational freedom so I could make a contribution to the world on my own terms.  I braced myself for the moment when I would look into his eyes and see him pull away from me.  I would have felt hurt and lost.  And that would have been easy because it would have been another opportunity to learn something.  I know that drill by heart.
     Instead this man looked me in the eyes with empathy and respect, saying he understood what I was trying to do.  He said he really admired me and thought this was fabulous.  He put his arm around me and encouraged me to keep going.  He offered help and support.  Then I panicked.  This is not the way it's supposed to go.  Where's the pain?  Where's the struggle?  This is too easy!  I started to invent all kinds of worst-case scenarios in my mind.  I doubted my ability to remain self-reliant as I began to feel I needed him.  I created imaginary arguments in order to defend myself against...against...what?  Love.  I was actually resisting love.  How weird is that?
     So now I have new lessons to learn.  Relaxation.  Partnering.  Sharing.  Happiness.  Trust. Surrender.  I've always wanted a partner like this.  He's here.  I hope I can handle this.  How about you?  When did you finally get an unmixed blessing?  How did you react to it?  How's it going for you?  What did you learn?  And how have you changed? 
      I wish you joy of the easy in your life.

Pax tecum.

Saving a Life

     I'm sitting here typing with the tell-tale signs of an apheresis donor:  two red plastic bandages wrapped around my two elbows.  In this process platelets are separated from the rest of your blood.  Why platelet donations?  They are desperately needed for people undergoing chemotherapy for one reason.   It takes three pints of whole blood to make one donation of platelets.  And because this process is so complex, fewer people take the time or make the drive to the center to do it.
     The procedure is a little freaky.  You sit in a recliner with a syringe in one arm sucking out blood.  It goes through a machine that looks like something out of Lost in Space where the platelets are separated out.  Platelets are collected in a plastic bag where they take on the distinct look of egg drop soup.  The blood is then infused with saline solution to make up the volume, and pumped back into your other arm through another syringe.  For me the whole process takes 100 minutes, and I can donate two servings. 
     During this time you cannot close your eyes because the staff needs to know you are awake and activating your squeeze toy to keep your vein open.  To pass the time you watch a movie.  If I'm lucky I watch one of my choice, a comedy.  If I'm not lucky, I watch what some guy requested which usually includes evil doings, violence, and a woman dressed in little more than lingerie.  I don't like being upset during a donation, preferring that my blood is as free from adrenaline as possible.  When I'm faced with the movies I dread, I just stare at the walls and try to meditate with my eyes open.
     Since you can't use your arms, you can't read, write, or even scratch your nose.  But the wonderful staff is very accommodating and will rub your nose with a piece of gauze if you need it.  Or, as in my case today, dry your eyes as you sit there weeping over some happy ending in a feel-good flick.  You don't get to eat or drink.  However, the chemical in the needle that is used to keep your blood from clotting can cause side effects:  itchy nose, dry mouth, numb lips, sleepiness, or nausea.  The cure?  Tums!  Just ask for them--regular or sugar-free--and you can have all you want.  They work like a charm.
     When it's all over you get to have a free lunch of your choice, beverages, snacks, and sometimes a thank you gift like a free oil change or gallon of ice cream.  I dread the T shirts though.  I had waaaaaay too many of those, and I rarely wear them.
     Does all of this seem really arduous to you?  It is.  Add to that the 45 minute drive up to the donation center, and I can devote half a day to this appointment.  It can be tedious as all heck.  Your arms ache, you fight drowsiness, and you are immobilized for almost two hours.  But then I think of a child undergoing chemotherapy who can't go out and play.  Or the middle-aged man who can't work because his cancer treatments make him too sick.  Then it doesn't seem so bad after all, and I remember why I'm doing this.  My first blood donation.  I was giving the standard pint of blood when a staff member asked what my type was.  "A positive. " "Good!"  she said.  "We were really low on that.  You're going to save someone's life today."  Her words hit me like a falling piano.  No amount of money, legislation, or good intentions can take the place of blood.  You have to open up a vein and share part of who you are with a total stranger.  Frankly, I can't think of anything more awesome than that.
     If you ever feel like you aren't doing much to save the world, let me invite you to come with me to the apheresis center in Farmington, CT.  And over the course of half a day, attached to freaky medical equipment, while snacking on Tums and watching a movie, you can actually save a life.  SAVE A LIFE!  Think about it.  How often do we get the chance to be brave and save a life?  This offer is real.  Contact me.  I'll get you through it.

Pax tecum
    

Follow the Energy

     I'm no stranger to anxiety.  It gets the best of me when I overwhelm myself and lose my center.  But in those moments, I think of what my friend Richard always says:  Follow the energy.
     Today I had a lot of things to do and people to connect with.  This is good because I want to be useful.  But thinking of them all at once along with imagined consequences?  Mmmmmm, not so good.  How to break that mindset?  Well I was making my coffee around 6:45am enjoying a beautiful sunrise in the east, when I noticed a very dark sky in the west.  I love the play of light in the sky, so I abandoned kitchen duty to follow my energy up to the back porch.  Amazingly, there was a rainbow stretching across my neighbor's house!  First I had no inkling it would rain this morning; the sky looked that innocuous.  Then to see this wonder of nature just blew me away.  What a reward for breaking with habit and acting on impulse.
     Then my roofer showed up to investigate the cause of the leak on my front porch.  He is very pleasant and knows his stuff.  Since I had all these things to do, I was hoping he'd just do his work, give me the diagnosis, and be off.  But then I followed my energy.  I let him engage me in a 90-minute conversation that left my jaw hanging.  He loves the roofing work, but he is also a writer, a musician, and an inventor!  "See that gadget on your storm door that keeps it open when you push the button?  I invented that."  One fascinating revelation after another.  He is probably the most "non-pigeon" person I've ever met in my life.  Trust me, I'm staying in touch with him.
     Finally, I began my course, "I'm No Pigeon," this evening at our adult education program.  I had done little preparation for it; I like to conjure the opening remarks just to get myself pumped up for the class.  But I was sidetracked by everything else that day and ran out of time.  I simply followed the energy instead.  Sure enough I was sharing my  insights with the students when one leaned forward with light bulbs going off over his head.  Whatever I had said resonated with him deeply, and he began to think about his situation differently.

    Anxiety almost got the better of me.  When I allowed myself to feel burdened, I blocked myself off from inspiration.  But when I chose to open myself to inspiration, there it was.  Will it always be this dramatic?   Who knows?  But each day is different, each moment presents opportunities.  So what opportunities might you be missing by being caught up in your own anxieties?  Just be aware and open to inspiration.  I'd love to know what you discovered.

Pax tecum.

Reflections in Fur

     You know how you can interpret dreams and find insights into your life by discerning symbols?  Well these days I'm interpreting cats.  My present circumstance is just waaaaaay too bizarre to  think of it any other way.

Buckminster as bathroom doorstop

     Buckminster is my main cat.  We adopted each other two years ago.  He's huge, intrepid, defiant, and goofy.  He falls asleep in his water bowl like a drunkard in his cups.  He sprawls out in the most inconvenient places.  He reflects the part of me that is comfortable and well cared for.  The part of me that is brave, imagines wonderful and sometimes confrontational scenarios for myself.  I know it all.  I believe in myself.  I can get a little stupid.
     Kierkegaard is a delicate, tiger gray feral cat who is a mass of anxieties.  I can't get more than three feet near him before he bolts.  But he will take food on the porch, and if I'm patient, I can coax him into the house.  As can Buckminster.  One day I came home from shopping to find the two of them in a Mexican standoff on the outer rim of the upstairs porch.  Clearly Bucky had taught him how to navigate the cat door, climb up the stairs, and squeeze between the balusters.  Kierke reflects the part of me that is scared, insecure, afraid to get too involved for fear of losing independence, yet in need of a mentor and helpmate despite my reluctance.
     Larry is my homeless cat, a petite, orange polydactyl.  Larry is besotted with me.  He follows me around the neighborhood on my walks.  But he requires mucho medical attention, and the budget will not allow for that at the moment.  So I keep him well fed and sheltered on the porch so that he doesn't share any potential diseases with us.  But Larry hates Bucky.  And the two of them have gotten into it pretty viciously.  It is astounding to see my twenty pounder cower in front of this bantam weight.  Larry knows about the cat door, and while he can't use it, he knows Bucky does, and will stand sentinel to see he doesn't get in or out without a fight.  Larry reflects external reality.  It dogs me with a leaking roof, skyrocketing medical premiums, replacement tires, and faulty feet.  It won't let me escape into comfort or confidence, real or imagined.  I must keep attending to it despite my desire to keep it at bay.
     Right now I'm a little annoyed with all of them.  I care for them and their conflicting needs so much that I am neglecting my writing and everything else I want to devote myself to.  So here's my plan for the week.  Minimal involvement.  They're cats.  They're smart.  They'll have to do without me a bit more because I am going to be more self-centered and take care of myself.  I have to, because they sure can't.  Let's see what happens when I change the dynamics.    
     And pray that I don't fall victim to feline mind control!

Pax tecum.

My Left Ankle

     After more than a year's delay I took myself to see a Certified Movement Analyst.  July 2011, in my attempt to improve my physical well being, I started jump roping.  Fifteen seconds into it, I felt a snap in my left ankle.  While not broken, it hasn't been right since.  Well of course not, it's my left ankle, but you know what I mean.  Now my body is out of alignment.  In particular my knee is sore because my foot turns inward so much more.  How symbolic is that!  I turn inward spiritually a lot as well. 

     Enter Mavis Lockwood.  All she did was observe how I move, ask a bunch of questions, apply her prodigious understanding of anatomy to the situation, and give me a few exercises to do.  
     "Do you always get up from a chair like that?"
     "Like what?"
     "You lean to the right."
     "I do?!?!"
     I had no idea that I was listing to the right when I stand and walk.  I had no idea that I was bending with my back and not my legs.  I had no idea my head leans forward when I stand or sit.  Of course not.  We never notice what feels natural to us.  She also pointed out that we can exercise with the very best intentions, but without an expert to observe us we could be doing it wrong.   Suffice it to say, all Mavis did was to help me tremendously.
     This gets me thinking about how much we may be fortifying our practices of all kinds because we think we are doing them right...or are right!  I can spend a lot of time going inward and mucking around in my stuff, thinking I am getting to know myself and healing myself.  But what if I'm just getting stuck in a different way?  I have a wonderful new man in my life.  After six weeks together we've become more open with each other.  I shared some of my relationship history with him one night, and in his very warm and understanding voice he said, "That explains a lot."  Puzzled I asked him to say more.  "Well you come across as so confident that I began to think that I wouldn't be able to keep up with you."  So here I am practicing confidence, self-reliance, everything I think I need to do to take care of myself; and now I understand where I might come across as intimidating. 
     Would you consider asking people to share their observations of you?  Enlist a colleague, a trusted friend, someone with whom you share an interest.  Ask about your body language, how you hit a tennis ball, what your phone manner is like.  Make it a neutral behavior.  Just get observations.  Ask more questions about it for clarification.  Talk about what you'd like to alter and how, if you feel it necessary at all.  But whether you make a change or not, it is amazing to see yourself through another's eyes.

Pax tecum.

The Gifts of Silence

    Wow! 
    That's the only word I can use to describe my recent four-day silent retreat.  I wish I could convince every one of you to do a retreat of this kind once or twice a year.  Forget vacations.  Stay home or go to a retreat center and get off screens, off phones, off clocks, off voice, off distractions.  Actively invite your own personal spiritual awakening.  I'm serious.  You can do this and reap remarkable insights.
     Each retreat I do is different although the trappings are similar.  I'm silent and alone.  I do some kind of physical work.  I stare out into space.  I journal and read.  I meditate.  How often and for how long changes as I follow my inner guidance.  While some of you might think it would be boring, it is far from it.  My mind is active with ideas, my heart is full of gratitude, my body speaks to me of pain and sorrow.  I soar to breathtaking heights.  I plumb the depths of my being.  And I become aware of something greater than myself reaching out and embracing me.  You couldn't write a screenplay to compare with it.
     The theme which reveals itself to me is also different for every retreat.
This time my vehicle for insights was dreaming.  Being off alcohol and caffeine cleared my brain, and I was sleeping with less disturbance.  I had two big dreams whose symbolism was startlingly clear:  Self first and walk my talk.  They gave me the courage of my convictions and the ability to loosen my grip on some old beliefs.  Four days later I am falling back into some old patterns.  But I can see that, even chuckle about it, and know where my center is.
      Here is the question I pose to you as a result of my retreat.  It is not rhetorical.  Really take the time to think about it.  Do you know what you are missing?  If your mind is filled with images, music, news, screens are you even remotely aware of what wisdom and insights lie within you?  How can you hear it, use it, be inspired by it if you don't make the opening for this richness to stream through?  How many of you might discover a prayer has been answered but missed the response amid the cacophony?  Who among you might observe your own powers of extrasensory gifts without distractions to blind you to them?
     If any of you are interested in pursuing this further, I am happy to assist you with it.  If you live nearby, I am offering my trio of talks on Simplicity, Solitude, and Silence through the Valley Regional Adult Education program (www.vrae.org).  I also offer silent weekend retreats here at Orchard House for clients looking for a guided retreat experience.  And soon I will be offering a workbook for those of you who wish to pursue these experiences on your own.  But promise yourself to get silence into your life.  I guarantee you'll wonder how you ever lived without it.  

   Pax tecum.
      

Tragic Idols

What is it about our desire for idols that makes us conspire to ignore the truth about people?

No fan of sports, I still poured over an article about the fall of Lance Armstrong.   I think of Jerry Sandusky and those who cloaked his deeds in secrecy despite the horrible injuries to children.  We want idols in our lives.  We want to believe they are invincible.  But these individuals are not gods.  And even gods were known to be capricious.  This says to me we create gods in our own image.

Even in our jaded world--or perhaps because of it--we want to believe in something bigger than ourselves.  We want someone to inspire hope or greatness.  Those idols become a lightning rod for all our dreams.  We dare not expose the truth that they are just as human as we are.  Flawed, dark, fighting their own demons.  Where would that leave us?

But what is wrong with being human?  Is Everyman not capable of moments of heroism, brilliance, generosity?  Why do we need to attach perfection to that list?  I'm struggling with this question myself.  It is the inverse of the initial question, Why do I deny the truth of greatness in those who are flawed?  I can hold tightly to my judgments about people who rub me the wrong way.  That can obliterate in my mind anything they might possibly do for the good.  Certainly there are criminal acts for which perpetrators must be answerable.  Actions have consequences.  But is there no way to inspire each other not only to greater deeds but also more honest deeds?  Can we strive to be more honest ourselves?  Can we as family members, friends, associates support each other in being more whole? 

I'll be taking a break from this blog to do a silent retreat next week.  I'll be spending much of that time thinking about these questions.   Judgments regarding  imperfection are running rampant in my brain these days.  They are judgments about people in my life, which are merely a reflection of judgments about myself.  It is fascinating how we play out our issues with others!  But it's getting me stuck, and I hate being stuck.  So while I'm deep sea diving, perhaps you'd like to think about why we tend to swing from star-struck to cynical and share your thoughts here.  What would it mean not to have idols?  What would it mean not to have scapegoats?  And what does that mean for us individually?

Pax tecum.

 

Being Vulnerable to Gifts - Part 2

Wow!  What a great day and a half I had at the Cape Cod Writers Conference.  Imagine a place where you just walk up to people and ask, "What do you write about?" English gardens, the vegan diet, soldiering in Vietnam, poetry.  Whether novice or published author, all were willing to share advice and experiences.  Sadly, it was nowhere near the shoreline, but I did have an awesome cod dinner.

I knew when I went there something extraordinary would happen.  It did.  But not what I could have foreseen.  I sat reading in the large comfortable lobby when inexplicably I ascended into a state of higher consciousness.  This has happened to me twice before but under very different and very private circumstances.  Here I was out in public!

I began people watching intensely.  The playful exchange between a middle-aged man and his three-year-old daughter.  A gorgeous woman in her 70s looking every inch turquoise blue and seaside fashionable.  My heart blew open.  How extraordinary all these people seemed to me, even though I knew nothing about them.  

Then I saw him, the young man I came here for.  Dressed modestly in a white shirt and black trousers, he politely approached the man at the registration desk and asked for something.  The clerk replied, "We don't have any openings at the moment, but you can fill out our application, and maybe we'll have a job for you in a few weeks."  He took the papers and looked around this bustling lobby.  I smiled and silently drew him over to the empty seat at my table.  Just as silently he spent the next 20 minutes filling out the form.  I heard a persistent voice in my head, "You are so dearly loved.  You are so dearly loved!"  As a Reiki practitioner I knew simply to get out of the way and just hold the space for this love to flood through me to him.  I would glance at him from time to time, but nothing seemed to divert his attention.  Why he needed this gift I'll never know.  But it was imperative that he receive it.  With his application completed, he got up and returned it to the clerk who kindly assured him they'd keep it on file.  Then he walked out.

The rest of the program was immensely helpful to me, and my acquaintance's workshop opened my mind to new ways of writing.  But nothing could compare with this experience.  The conference ended.  The weather turned ugly.  I packed up the car.  It would be a stormy ride back to Connecticut.  As I eased out of the parking lot into the traffic teeming with weekend tourists, I struggled to read the street signs as I made my way out of Hyannis.  And then one last miracle.  I saw my young man biking with a friend through these same streets, smiling and laughing with abandon.  Mission accomplished apparently.

Pax tecum.

Being Vulnerable to Gifts

There's a line from James Taylor's, Baby Boom Baby, that I've been singing to myself a lot these days:  What do I do if my dream comes true?  We can spend so much time planning, worrying, and visualizing that when a long-awaited event actually happens we shrink back a step.  Uh oh.  Now what?

In my case I whipped out my credit card.  That was hard in this time of fiscal austerity.  But when the Universe handed me the gift of an opportunity, "no, thank you" was not an option.  Just a couple of days before I had sent up a prayer saying, "I need things to come into my life now.  I can't wait any more, and I'm tired of blocking them.  I am willing to let go of all the self-imposed limitations on my life.  I am open to receiving. " 

Acting upon my new-found courage, I reached out to two authors I admire.  We are merely acquaintances, but that was enough for me to send them my declaration that I was now pursuing a career in writing and ask for some advice.  I imagined prescriptions on how many pages to write daily, the useful e newsletters.  But noooooooo!  Two days later I got the first gift from one author which set my world reeling.  "You've got to go to writers conferences.  There's one in Cape Cod next week, and I'll be there."  My heart stopped for a few seconds.  I have been pinching pennies for some time as I go through this evolution.  I know how much conferences and hotels cost.  It was madness to think I should spend $400 and drive up there.  But resistance seemed like ingratitude.  So I signed up for a day and a half of courses and one night in a posh conference center on the Cape.  I cannot imagine what will happen when I get there, but something will.  If nothing else, I'm getting some really good seafood.

The second gift was from the author who just happens to be living the life I want.  I met her at a book signing and liked her instantly.  She responded to my email by saying some very comforting things and giving me her phone number, encouraging me to call her when I needed help.

Reaching past my inhibitions to ask for something is hard enough.  Saying "yes, thank you" is harder still because it propels me into the world at large.  I'm now vulnerable to gifts!  Who knows what else may befall me and how I shall have to respond?  But the logical conclusion to this line of questioning is what gifts might I bear for others?  Whose life might I step into at the right time in answer to their prayers with the gift they've been hoping for because I chose to step outside my own limitations?  I can't wait to find out.  And I promise to send postcards along the way!

Pax tecum.

Simply Complex

Only recently--that would be within the past 30 minutes--have I realized how much I love complexity despite my desire for simplicity.  It struck me as I stalled on an opening for a chapter I am writing on the latter.  Boy, does that drip with irony!  I believe that simplicity is a virtue: things neatly put away, owning only what I need, doing things mindfully.  It is refreshing to go through my day fully present, which also means I'm available to others in more civil ways.

But then I look at my interests.  They are anything but simple.  I much prefer Mahler over Hayden because his music is quirky.  I'll take Indian food with its rich mixture of spices over a burger and fries any day.  Rather than formulaic romance novels, I prefer reading adventures in science and philosophy.  Then there's how I make decisions.  Thoughts ricochet between my right and left brains.  How does this feel vs is this logical? Clearly this is a case of too much information.

More important is what does simplicity mean for others?  Is there a universal meaning for that word? We all know people who stock up because they want to live with more economic simplicity.  We can make our lives complicated trying to achieve temporal simplicity (this is why I say multitasking is not a virtue).  We may want to be environmentally simple, but when shopping, do we buy the cage free eggs in the plastic carton or the organic eggs in the cardboard carton?  Suddenly, simplicity is not so simple!

Maybe it comes down to this:  Simplicity is sanity.  If we can do what we need to do, be as we need to be, use our time, energy, and money in ways that satisfy our values at a particular moment, maybe this is as simple as it gets.  And what are our values?  Money in the bank?  Community activism?  Caring for loved ones?  When we clear out the superfluous--and your definition of that will be different from mine--our values direct our lives.  We have a plainer path to walk upon.  If we pursue the complex--determining the best medical procedure for an illness, writing a play, crafting an economic policy--we do so with more sanity when we cut a swath through our mental space at least.  Complexity is wonderful sometimes.  But we need openness for the elements to float through, connect, disengage, reassemble until the right combination of knowledge, inspiration, and actions reveals itself in a perfect whole.  When I clear my mind of fears and distractions, I function much better in the world.  When my values are reflected in my outer world, I feel congruent. And now I just had a brain storm.  Excuse me while I tap out the next chapter of my book.  Thanks for listening to me.  It helped a lot!

Pax tecum.

It Is Well

Long Hill Cemetery is an easy walk from my house.  Nestled in a twisty, crowded suburban neighborhood, it is the final resting place for many of our town's oldest families since the early 1800s.  Many names are familiar to me either because they also appear on street signs or some of their descendants are alive and active in town.  Some markers are those tall obelisks  on which entire families are listed.  Some are marble so old they have broken apart and eroded.  Some are small square bumps that can trip me if I'm not careful.

The one that is compelling to me is Mary's.  It's surface is eroding too,  but it is a good sized, hefty cube with edges carved like columns and a fading sprig of lily of the valley in bas relief.   It stands between the thinner headstones of Mr. and Mrs. Beard, birth and death dates noted; and someone who was the 25-year-old son of Somebody and Glenda Blackman.  What draws me to it time and again is the simple inscription:

Mary

It Is Well

No last name.  No dates.  No relationship.  My first thought is that she was a family slave who bore no surname and whose age was a mystery.  Perhaps she was the illicit lover of the 25 year old and her disgrace was buried by her anonymity.  I may never know the facts.  Indeed, they are of little consequence.  What does matter is the clear sense that, despite her obscurity, Mary was worthy of regard.  Whether the providers of the tombstone chose it out of respect or remorse, it is a stone that was far more costly and far more embellished than its neighbors.

As I said in my first blog posting, I'm just writing to share my own disparate musings and discoveries with you.  I don't know why I'm writing this particular posting except that I feel compelled to.  Just as inexplicably, Mary draws me close to her, and I go to the cemetery purposely to visit with her.  But I cannot intellectualize this, nor do I desire to.  This is a matter for the heart.  Whoever she was reaches out to me over 100 years later.  And it is well that I should simply bear witness to her silent grace.

Pax tecum, Mary.  And to you all.

Open Wide and Say "Ahhhhh"

Don't you hate it when fear gets the best of you?  I do!  My brain makes a unilateral decision to flood me with adrenaline and thoughts run wild like a pack of stampeding lemmings heading over a cliff of worst case scenarios.   

When our buttons are pushed and we keep replaying a scenario in our minds--real or even more amusing, imagined--that's irrational.  Adrenaline is contributing to it.  Hormones!  Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.  It makes us feel worse not better, and there is little resolution in the exercise.  We're just rehearsing a bad outcome.  The counter-intuitive trick is to open wide our heart and mind to be ready for a different solution.

One day my car started making a funny noise.  My mechanic determined it was the alternator, and it needed to be replaced.  He remarked that it shouldn't go bad at 28,000 miles.  "Is the warranty still in effect?"  "No," I sighed.  "Well, call up the dealership and use every argument you possibly can to see if they'll do it for free.  Otherwise, this will cost you a bundle."  

I went home and started to panic.  Money was tight.  And I am one of those really fair-minded people, so asking for an exception to the rule makes no sense to me.  Fair is fair, even if it is not to my advantage.  Badgering people and using emotional blackmail is just not in my value system either.   The lemmings were heading over the cliff.  So I just sat, breathed, and said a prayer for the best possible outcome.  I didn't know what that was.  But the more I open my mind and heart, the greater the chances I'll recognize a solution when it happens.

I called the dealership and spoke with the manager.  I explained the situation rationally and got no further than "Is there anything you might be able to do?"  "No problem!  We'll take care of it under our goodwill policy."  The lemmings hit the brakes and, not a little sheepishly, headed back home.  The situation could have turned out the opposite way.  Even then, I still have the option of staying open to seeing what might come of it. 

When we engage in these trying scenarios with balance and neutrality, the situation can become easier to handle.  The panic, the rage, the confusion are no help to us, so dissolving them as quickly and compassionately as possible is to our advantage.  When we are open, we can breathe.  Energy flows more readily to be of service to us and to facilitate communication.  Easy to do?  Heck, no!  But it is possible to open ourselves more and more.  Keep it up, you'll see.  And remember to brake for lemmings.

Pax tecum.

Just Start Walkin'

If you doubt that how you show up in the world can make any difference, think again.

John was not on anyone's radar in 1971.  But a huge oil spill in the San Francisco Bay prompted him to take action to save the environment.  But doing what?  He had no skills, no college degree.  And how?  He made a simple choice: he chose to stop riding in vehicles fueled by petroleum products.  He walked everywhere for everything, hundreds of miles, in all kinds of weather.  He even refused to ride in the ambulance after a bad accident and walked to the emergency room!   He got a lot of notice.  His action stirred a lot of people...to anger!  Well, we do tend to project our fears and guilt onto others, don't we?  He would argue his point of view for five years until he realized he was tired of arguing.  On his 27th birthday, he decided to keep silent for one day.  For the first time in his life he began to hear people.  Really hear them.  It felt so peaceful.  He kept silent for a second day.  And a third.  And...

Seventeen years later never uttering a sound, and with all of his energies focused on environmental science, he had completed a bachelors degree, a masters degree, a doctoral degree, taught at a university, worked in the coast guard, and wrote the US regulations on oil spills at the exact moment of the Valdez oil spill.  He was now on the radar.  For 22 years he was walking, biking, or sailing wherever he needed to go. For 17 years he got his degrees, taught his courses, and did his jobs in sign language and notes.  At every turn people were there to make things possible for him because his commitment was so extraordinary and his honesty so compelling.  On the 20th anniversary of Earth Day, he finally resumed speaking and the following year became a UN goodwill amabassador. 

He is John Francis, PhD, and his book Planet Walker is the product of his odyssey.  He encourages us to follow our vision no matter how crazy it may look; to do so with compassion; and when the time comes to evolve, let go of who we used to be and become someone new.  Listen to his talk on TED.com

As he laughingly muses, imagine someone telling you exactly how you can make a difference.  "You just start walkin' east.  Get out of your car and just start walkin' east...Yeah, and shut up too!  You're gonna make a difference, buddy!"

Strawberry Fields Impermanently

"Let me take you down 'cause I'm going to..."

...Jones Family Farms in this case.  It was the end of the season, and I wanted to be sure to get some fresh strawberries. I'm always amazed that fresh-picked strawberries are so juicy, unlike store bought which tend more toward crunchy. 

The folks at Jones will give you a large box before you go out into the field.  But this single chick figured better take just one plastic container of my own, and when it was full, that was it.

While it was a hot and sticky day downtown, up on Pumpkin Seed Hill the wind blew refreshingly over those of us picking in between the rows.  You have to be very careful not to step on trailing vines or bump into overly ripe fruit.  In this approach to the task, I experienced something like reverence.  The act of kneeling, moving slowly, and gingerly pinching the stems made me mindful not only of the berries but of the day and those around me.  The leaves felt leathery and hearty.   I could hear a mother with her children giggling through the rows with evidence of sampling on their chins.

The picking became a meditation that I did not wish to end.  Everything was so perfect.  But my container was filling up.  A dialog began in my head.  "I wish I had another container."  "Why?"  "I'd like to pick more!"  "But you know you can't eat more. They'll just go bad, and you'll throw them out."  "True.  When the container is full I will stop and have just what I need and want."  "Enough" is a difficult concept for our consumer society.  We don't want to run out of things or let go of gorgeous experiences.  But if they are always there, they becomes commonplace.  We miss what made them special.  We toss the unused portions into the compost bin.

The next time you go to a store, just check in with yourself without judgments.  Are you shopping  only for necessities?  If something not on the list strikes your fancy, do you put it in the carriage?  Are you standing in front of the jam section looking at the ten different brands trying to decide which to buy?  Do you remember when your city had a power outage, and you were staring at the last jar of mint jelly on the shelf?  Permanence.  Impermanence.  Enough.  Too much.  Not enough.  I just offer this as an idea to play with.  You may find by exploring these words you examine whether you are living a particular moment on purpose or on autopilot, in the past, future, or present.  Nothing more.  But maybe the awareness is enough.  Savor your awareness.  It's so juicy!

Pax tecum.

Planting Maize

Decades ago I had an epiphany during an epiphany.  Stick with me; it'll make sense.

I was in a conversation with a young man.  The reason why and who he was are now erased by time, but the epiphany remains fresh.  He was telling me how the Navajos plant maize in the darnedest places.  "They till these rows; they plant these seeds...I mean, it's in the desert for crying out loud!  Nothing can grow in the desert.  So why the heck would anyone...." He stopped mid-sentence.  The light of an epiphany broke upon his face.  Then he said, "They don't plant the seeds to grow maize!  They plant the seeds to grow intention!  Who knows if maize will grow or not, but the act of planting is what counts.  They know that somewhere something will grow because they planted an intention."  And in the midst of his epiphany, I experienced it too.

 If God is in the details, then everything matters.  Acts, thoughts, a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil.  But I don't say this to make us paralyzed.  (Ohmigosh, an angry thought!  I just killed a squirrel in the Tuileries Gardens!)  If wishes were horses we'd all be wearing waders.  Rather, think of what our thoughts do to us.  Do they make us anxious?  Angry?  Grateful?  Lighthearted?  Think of the words that come out of our mouths in a conversation with a cashier, a spouse, a telemarketer.  That energy is what we put into the world. Does it not make sense that if MOST of what we put into the world is wholesome, something somewhere yields wholesomeness?


This is happening more and more.  If you read things like the Goodnews Network (www.goodnewsnetwork.org) or watch Karmatube (www.karmatube.org) you'll know that there is more to life than Fox News or the New York Times.  People are doing good things, holding beautiful intentions.  It goes on all the time.  Everywhere.  Higher consciousness, particularly in a group effort, can yield astounding results.  I call such efforts Spirit Farming.  We can all be Spirit Farmers.  As we sow, so shall we reap.


In those dark nights of the soul, when you struggle to find your peace or an answer, step outside.  Feel the maize growing between your toes.  Know that you get to be the beneficiary of some good intention sent to you by someone...somewhere.  And give thanks for their generosity.


Pax tecum.

 

Don't Curb Your Enthusiasm

I found a great book I wasn't supposed to be interested in.  Think and Grow Rich: A Black Choice by Dennis Kimbro and Napoleon Hill.  Normally I would regard the title as boooooooogus, but years ago one of my favorite colleagues, himself Black and an ex-offender, told me how it inspired him.  Seeing it available for one mere dollar at Written Words Bookstore (www.writtenwordsbookstore.com.  Did you all catch the shout out?), I decided to buy it.  I've been reading a lot about money these days.  And I am thinking about it as part of our life force and how our history and psychology mingle with it.  How do we create abundance?  How do we create deprivation?  What stories do we tell ourselves regarding it? 


I'm not halfway through this very short and readable paperback and the main idea is hitting me like a piano falling on my head.  Be enthusiastic about your idea!  LOVE your idea.  Sleep, eat, and breathe your idea.  Hold it to your bosom like a newborn baby and keep nurturing it.  

The Black authors say they wrote this book for Black Americans who struggle with success.  But this middle-aged White chick struggles with it as well.  The stories we tell ourselves, they say, determine how hard we will work, whom we will attract to help us, and if we keep our eyes and ears open for opportunities.  The stories can keep us moving through the long, dark nights into the light of day or stuck at an entrance, trying to find the way in.  I have not been telling myself very good stories.  "Why would anyone want to pay for a course on silence?  That's just an absurd notion!"  "Why would anyone come to a working class neighborhood for a silent retreat?  God knows there are far more beautiful places for that."  More significant is "Why does my passion for this persist?  I must be crazy."  Enough!


Many of us now desire a different lifestyle.  Either 9 to 5 no longer appeals to us, or it no longer wants us.  We are now creating new forms of work that spring from our unique gifts, gifts that aren't always conventional.  It is tough, often lonely, confusing, and we make mistakes (Boy, do I hate that part).  We need buddies to help us through all of this.  Not just networking groups--buddies.  People we know and trust, who care about us, and remind us of why we're doing what we do.  We need to share better stories to get to success.  We need to keep each others' enthusiasm burning brightly.

So here's my challenge to you:  All of you, if you would, please--PLEASE--declare to the rest of us what you are enthusiastic about.  What do you want to achieve?  How can we help each other?  If you've already achieved a dream or two, what did you learn?  What got you scared?  What made you brave?  Would you like to be a mentor?  Come back to this post often and see who's responding to YOU.  Pass this blog post on to others who might be interested.  If you want to make a private connection, let me know; I can play go-between, providing email addresses or phone numbers.  Maybe there's some face to face opportunities in the offing.  Anything could happen.  I created this blog to create community.  Come join in! 


Wow!  I'm feeling really enthusiastic about this!!!


Pax tecum.