Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Ready for New Beginnings

I stopped making resolutions several years ago: they had almost become a joke.  The gym would be packed the first week of January, quite busy the second, and by the third week, things would be pretty much back to normal, exemplifying the seriousness with which most people take their plans for the new year.  By March, most people don't even remember what their resolutions even were.  I rarely see much resolve in resolutions.

However, I also feel like it is my responsibility to become a more complete person.  That isn't the work of a single day or night but of every day of the year.  I set intentions--sign posts, if you will, for qualities that I want to bring into my life.  Then, daily...or more frequently...I consciously ask myself what I should do that is aligned with all of  my intentions.  Every action is a choice point that is either aligned with my intentions or isn't. 

I find New Year's  to be a particularly good time to assess (see yesterday's post) how I am doing and to determine where I will bring more focus to my intentions in the year ahead.  I generally take a few hours to meditate on my life on either New Year's Eve or New Year's Day.  It was the result of such a meditation last year that brought me the six words that I wrote about yesterday: love, laughter, health, happiness, wealth, and wisdom.

I had been pondering what I should write that would help my readers bring more seriousness to their resolutions or intentions, when I heard a radio interview during my walk yesterday.  The interview was with a man named Alex Sheen, who is founder of  "Because I said I would."  The focus of Sheen's work is that when we make promises, we should keep them.  If we promise to quit smoking or lose 20 pounds in the new year, we should treat that as a serious promise.  I like that concept. 

One of the reasons that I am so meditative about my intentions is because for me they are commitments or promises. In The Game Called Life I wrote a whole chapter about commitment, which is aligned with "Because I said I would."  Each day we make commitments, often without thinking about what we are committing to, whether we will keep them, or even what would be involved in keeping them.  Many of them slide off into oblivion, like our New Year's resolutions.

Whether you call it a commitment or a promise, our ability to stay in integrity with what we say we will do is about who we are.  If I make a promise or a commitment, I should consider it seriously beforehand.  What will it require of me to keep the commitment? What will I have to give up in order to keep the commitment?  Are there more important commitments that will be set aside in order to keep a less important one?  

Keeping a commitment, no matter how small or large, is about our personal integrity.  It says, "I am a person who can be counted on to do what I say I will do." 

In less than an hour a new year will be upon us, and the new year presents a time for new beginnings.  As I assess and reflect on the year ahead, I will look at commitments that I have broken in the year past...yes, even slipping back into sugar...again!  I will consider thoughtfully what promises I am making to myself, and then I will set my intentions--promises I will keep--for the year ahead.  This year instead of a commitment, I think I will consider the intentions I set as promised I am making to me--promises I want to be counted upon for keeping.

I am ready for new beginnings, but really it is just another day in which I have the opportunity to strengthen my integrity and become a more complete person.  Happy New Year!

Monday, December 30, 2013

Assessment

Tomorrow another year ends.  Passed will be another opportunity to learn and grow...another opportunity to be a better, more complete human being.  At the same time, another opportunity begins...a time to look at how I can become a better, more complete human being.  Standing on the cusp of two years, I assess.

Six words in large black letters are taped to both my home and work computers: my intentions for 2013. 

          Love     Laughter     Health     Happiness     Wealth     Wisdom

I quit making resolutions years ago for reasons that I will write about tomorrow.  My intentions are those qualities that I want to increase in my life.  Resolutions seem to disappear with the wind by the second week of January each year, as attested by attendance in every gym in the country.  Intentions, by contrast, are core to our being: they are the spiritual reasons that we came into this world.  We can walk away from resolutions, but we fundamentally fail who we are if we turn our backs on intentions.

These six words are qualities that I have had to more or less extent.  Some are things that I yearn for, and others are those with which I'd like more comfort. 

As I assess the last 12 months, I find that my progress has been unexpected.  A friend and I started in January last year taking in stand-up and improv comedy shows.  I've also watched some movies with no redeeming social value except that they made me laugh--sometimes really hard. I even rediscovered some classic comedians (Bill Cosby, Bob Newhart, Carol Burnett and her troupe) and valued their gifts yet again. But what I've learned most about "laughter" in the last year is that what I intended wasn't just to laugh but to see humor in the moment.  The improv people do that pretty well.  Me? Not so much.  Yet I assess that understanding the process is a progress.  And a year full of laughs can never be wasted.

While I figured going to a stand-up performance in January might be a good start to "laughter," nothing shouted "logical first step" to "wisdom" for me.  It took me months to discover that a two-line email back in May would not only propel me forward in "wisdom" but in other qualities as well. The email from my friend Martin Rutte asked me, "Suppose I gave you a magic wand and with that wand you could create the ideal job.    What is that job?"

Well, that took me aback.  It was the job I had in the late 90s--writing books and articles, coaching executives, and professional speaking, but that wasn't sustainable in more than one way.  I pondered, "How could I look at this differently?"  My fallback position when presented with a koan is to do what one is supposed to do with a koan: meditate.  I took four days in May and meditated on this question.  The answer was that it wasn't about a job; it was about the work.  I loved using my special gifts in service to others.  The short story is that by September I was writing this blog, and by June I had taken on several new coaching clients. 

Where's the "wisdom?"  I discovered new ways to use my gifts and to be of service.  Not only that, but in the process of writing this blog, I've learned a lot about "love," "happiness," "wealth," and even some about "health."  Each time I've written a post, I've learned from it.  I've had some health challenges this year, but I feel like I've made forward movement. Sometime early next year, I will probably have yet another eye surgery, and then "I will see clearly...." again. 

My assessment of 2013?  I would like to have made more progress, but I've done a respectable job of growing this year.  I hope to do better next year; however, that is only possible because of growth I've experienced this year.



Sunday, December 29, 2013

Assembled Families

In three more days, we will end what for many has been a time of family gatherings, food, and fun. I was at a dance tonight, and someone asked if I'd gotten to spend time with family.  My flesh-and-blood family is pretty much gone now, but instead of responding as I usually do--that I don't have family and spend the holidays with friends, I found different words tumbling out of my mouth.  I have no idea where the words came from, but I said, "I hosted Christmas dinner for my assembled family."

I liked the ring of it: assembled family. 

Usually at this time of year, I have a quiet pity party because I don't have family with whom to share the celebrations.  Today I had a conversation with a friend that described a very unNorman Rockwellian holiday, and for a few minutes I thought maybe it wasn't so bad after all that I didn't have family.  Later in the day I thought about my assembled family again.

I have a group of friends with whom I feel very close.  We support each other in tough times, we celebrate happy times, and as we've all begun to age, we share thoughts and prayers in health and family crises, large and small.  And, we have holidays together.  This year I shared the holidays with one part of my assembled family, and last year I celebrated with a different part.  All parts are warm and close.

The thing about assembled families is that we get to pick who our family is. An assembled family can be as large or small as we choose. I am proud to say that I have picked well, and I am most grateful to have these people in my life.  The great thing about assembled families: everyone can have one, even if they also have flesh-and-blood family. 

As I look forward to the year ahead, I plan to be more intentional in adding family members and more grateful for the ones I have.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

In the Name of God...

I have just watched the movie "Philomena."  The movie portrays the true story of an aging mother, whose child was taken from her in the convent where she had given birth as an unwed teenager when the child was a toddler. Having ached her whole life to know something of her stolen son, she embarks on a transcontinental journey to find him 50 years after the birth.

As she has longed to know what has become of her son, the son has also been hunting for her. Although the nuns in the convent know of both searches, they intentionally impede the connection until Philomena discovers the deception after learning of her son's death. The journalist who is helping Philomena in her search confronts the nun, who has held the secrets for decades, with the accusation that "it wasn't very Christian of her."  In a far more Christian act, the bereaved mother forgave the nun.

A few years ago, a wave of sex abuse revelations within clergy in the Catholic Church  rocked congregations across the US, only to expand across the world.  The violations of youngsters wasn't limited to Catholicism, as a second wave of revelations rippled from almost every protestant denomination.  None very Christian acts either.

In Iraq, different sects of Islam kill each other in the name of God.  In Israel, Jews and Palestinians fight each other in the name of the God of their common ancestor Abraham.  In Africa, members of different tribes kill each other. All over the world today people will be killed in the name of one religion or another.

Yesterday, I shared Karen Armstrong's comparative religions' research, revealing that the heart of all religious, ethical, and spiritual traditions is "compassion."  She describes the manifestation of "compassion" as being the Golden Rule--do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

How do we get from an almost universal drive for compassion and living by the Golden Rule to separating mothers and children, sexually abusing children, and killing other sects--all in the name of God? I am not sure how this happened, but there is one thing that I am very sure about: we can do better...we must do better...in the name of God.

Numerology is the part of the Jewish mystical tradition, which is devoted to ancient study of numbers and the spiritual lessons which come with them. We are on the doorstep of a new year and all the new possibilities which come with it. The spiritual lessons of 2014 are love, relationship, responsibility and healing.  Those are the lessons that each of us is to learn during the coming year.  I can't help but believe that if we learn the lessons of love, relationship, responsibility, and healing in the year ahead that we would live by the Golden Rule, and then we will do better...in the name of God.

Friday, December 27, 2013

Compassion

Yesterday one of the readers of this blog mentioned that among the qualities of Christmas about which I'd written this month that I had neglected "compassion."  The season isn't over yet. 

As I thought about compassion, I recalled an appearance by Karen Armstrong  on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday program a few weeks ago.  Armstrong is a former Roman Catholic nun, who studies and writes about comparative religions.  She has written that the heart of all religious, ethical, and spiritual traditions is "compassion."  She describes the manifestation of "compassion" as being the Golden Rule--do unto others as you would have them do unto you. 

Armstrong has crafted a Charter for Compassion. (http://charterforcompassion.org/)  The Charter calls for a restoration of compassion as the center of morality and religion.

While Armstrong finds "compassion" as the Golden Rule, Wikipedia describes compassion as "the feeling of empathy for others. Compassion is the emotion that we feel in response to the suffering of others that motivates a desire to help."  The source of the desire to help is captured by the name of the East Asian Goddess of Compassion--Guanyin.  Guanyin means "observing the sounds or cries of the world."  How more could we feel with others more than to hear the cries of the world?

Besides being a religious, ethical, and spiritual concept, feeling with others is among the most important aspects of leadership.  Empathy--the capacity to recognize emotions that are being experienced by another--is a critical aspect of emotional intelligence, and emotional intelligence, in turn, is the single most important predictor of leadership. 

In Leading from the Heart, I described leadership as "seeing things as you would have them be and then having the courage to be the change you would create...If I can think it," I said, "it can happen....Leadership begins with one person--one person who believes he or she can make a difference."  In the spirit of that definition, how wise could it be to hear the cries of the world and then do unto others as you would have them do unto you--be compassion. 

The reader who introduced "compassion" was responding to the Christmas Day posting, "Honoring Christmas," (12/25/13) which quoted Dickens: "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."   She was right: caring, hearing the cries of the world, helping, empathy, the Golden Rule, and making a difference are indeed qualities of Christmas to hold in our hearts for the whole year.  May you hold compassion in your heart all year.





Thursday, December 26, 2013

Only Five Shopping Days Left

"Only Five Shopping Days Left" at this time of year is usually associated with shopping days before Christmas to buy gifts. Not so this reminder. These five shopping days are the last five days of the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13.)

Most people, including those who do not religiously observe Christmas, would agree that the holiday season is a time of connection--with friends and family, The Grocery Store Game is an effort and discipline to connect with those we don't know and usually look through or by, like the grocery store clerk (thus the game's name.) I challenged my readers (and myself) to create connection with three people each day in the month of December. We are now down to the last five days.

I've had surprising connections with people in my work building, neighbors, and even a quite remarkable homeless man. I even hosted someone for Christmas dinner that I didn't know well. (My philosophy is the more the merrier.) And I still have five days remaining!

What opportunities remain: perhaps even a connection with the person you were fighting with over that black cashmere sweater at the after-Christmas sale.

If you haven't made a "stretch connection"--to actually have a conversation with someone from a very different walk of life, there are still five days left.

Some believe that at Christmastime there is a special window that opens to the Universe, that we humans can create particularly powerful connections. Just because the big day is over doesn't mean that opportunity is gone: there are still five shopping days left.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Honoring Christmas

Yesterday I heard a Charles Dickens quote that was new to me: "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."  The quote really moved me and started me thinking about what it means to honor Christmas.  As I reflected over my writings in this blog over the last couple of weeks, I have written about Christmas as being light in the darkness, hope, love, acceptance,  memories, friends, and being present. 

When I read the quote, I think what my brain was doing was plugging all those qualities into Dickens' words, and they are powerful indeed.  Think about it: "I will honor being light in the darkness, hope, love, acceptance, memories, friends, and being present in my heart, and try to keep them all year."  That is quite an assignment.  I am sure that I will slip many times, but I will hold the intention to be those things in my heart and to try to keep them all year.  Even if I slip, holding that intention is certain to have a powerful impact on my life and those of people I touch.

My best wishes to all of you for "honoring being light in the darkness, hope, love, acceptance, memories, friends, and being present in my heart, and try to keep them all year."  Now that would truly bring the magic of Christmas.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

The Most Wonderful Day of the Year

When I was 12 years old, if you had asked me, "What is the best day of the year?" the answer, hands down, would have been "Christmas Eve!" Something happened on Christmas Eve that didn't happen any other day of the year: a day with Daddy.

My father was a skilled craftsman--a tool and die maker--in a machine shop. Certainly in that era, and judging from the few people I saw on the Metro with me this morning, maybe even now, people working in a machine shop didn't get Christmas Eve as a holiday. At what I am sure was significant financial sacrifice to our family, Daddy chose to spend the day with his children.

We lived in the Midwest. It was always cold and often snowy. On Christmas Eve, Daddy, my brother and I bundled up and headed out to have breakfast in a restaurant. I am not sure if it was the era or our socioeconomic class, or a combination of both, but eating out was a real treat, especially for breakfast. And, we lingered over our food, Daddy really engaged with us, listening to our stories and kid jokes as if they were quite wonderful. We laughed...a lot.

At some point, we would head downtown, where the department stores had extravagant window displays, each covering the equivalent of two city blocks. Our noses pressed against the windows in amazement.

By this point, filled with Christmas magic we'd go in the department store, where a special department had been created just for kids to shop for their parents. We were given a small amount of money, and we would disappear behind a temporary wall where I felt a sense of independence and power otherwise unknown to me. Five dollars burning my hand, and I got to make the decision myself.

The last stop before heading home exhausted were presents for our two dogs.

After a nap and dinner, the whole family loaded into the car to go to Christmas Eve service. I always liked going to church, but we were usually there in the daytime. Christmas Eve the darkened church was lighted by candles and graced by flowers. I thought it was the prettiest the church looked all year.

With a few more years on me, I figured out what was probably going on. Daddy was getting the kids out of the house so that Mother could wrap presents and make food, but no amount of intellectualizing Christmas Eve would make it less wonderful. This morning when I got up and turned the lights on the Christmas tree, I felt all warm inside, just thinking about Christmas Eve...and when I am 100, I'll probably do the same.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, December 23, 2013

Postal Time Travel

We are now down to two days until Christmas, and Postal Magic arrived in my mailbox today.  My mailbox is more appropriately sized for the volume of snail mail that we got two or three decades ago, so most days the single catalog or bill that I receive is lost in the space.

But, today...today...was a bonanza.  Most of my friends used the Saturday before Christmas to mail cards, and my mailbox was full today.  I couldn't even wait until I got to my apartment to start opening the cards.  One was from a colleague who retired 13 months ago: it reminded me how much I'd loved working with her.  I am also grateful to still have her in my life.  Another was from a colleague on a grueling work project five years ago.  If misery loves company, that is how we bonded. We laughed and commiserated over dinner and a glass of wine many evenings. I've moved to other employment, but we are still friends. 

Still another card came from a friend of almost 30 years.  As I opened it, I remembered cross-country skiing at Christmas in the mountains together 25 years ago. A few days ago, a card came from my college roommate from even longer ago. With it came memories of both of our weddings, one right before Christmas and the other in January.

I've written before about the powerful ability we have as human beings to "time travel"--to really be in another time and place through our memories.  I receive a few e-cards, but they don't match the magic of a card with a handwritten note that initiates time travel.  This evening after traveling over the years and the good times with my friends in my memories, it occurred to me how very important it is to be truly present to this year's celebrations for today I am making the memories that will fall out of cards 20 years in the future.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Rescuing Hope and Love

I've watched several Christmas movies this weekend in multi-task mode.  Watch movie and clean. Watch movie and bake. Watch movie and wrap presents. 

All Christmas movies seem to be the same movie: someone who is embittered catches the magic of Christmas and rekindles hope and love.  Some would say it is sappy.  It maybe, but isn't rescuing hope and love what Christmas is about?  Aren't hope and love the light in the darkness?  Whatever our faith tradition, the darkest time of the year seems an appropriate time to look in our hearts, and wherever hope has been tarnished, rescue hope and love.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Welcome to Winter

Winter officially began today.  In Washington we had temperatures in the 70s: I was warm walking my errands in my long-sleeved cotton shirt.  Other places in the country had thunderstorms and even forecasts of tornados, not typical of winter weather.  While Kansas City, which was assaulted by ice and snow, will attest that winter is indeed with us, many of its residents will probably also add that just three or four days ago, they were having the tee-shirt weather that we had today.

While we usually think of winter in terms of temperatures and the forms of precipitation that come with them, the Winter Solstice and the official beginning of winter is really about light. This day is the one with the least amount of daylight in the year--our darkest day, making today's bright sunshine and blue skies especially welcomed.

Light is more than the sun we get.  Metaphorically, it represents the positive in life, compared to the darker side of life.  Light also is a reflection of something alive in us, thus the expression about someone having "light in his eyes."  I recently read about how very dark it was when the sun went down until the last century or so because candles were too expensive for ordinary families.  For people at that time, light symbolized prosperity.

Light also brings with it an association with divinity, where candles represent God's light in the darkness of our lives.  Many religious, ethnic, and national holidays that have to do with light are celebrated around the time of the Winter Solstice.  There is even some suggestion that although Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus at the darkest time of the year, that he was probably born in spring.  However, the dark time of the year was chosen for commemoration of the holiday to symbolize the light he brought to a dark world.

This afternoon I heard part of the TED Talk by volunteer fire fighter Mark Bezos, in which he related a fire-fighting incident, in which he did something that was of little consequence to him but held great value to the homeowner, whose home was burning.  After telling the story, he said that often times we overlook doing something that is good because we are waiting to do something great.  He said that everyone of us can do something good every day. (http://www.ted.com/talks/mark_bezos_a_life_lesson_from_a_volunteer_firefighter.html)

When I was a youngster, we learned a song called "This Little Light of Mine."  The words speak to the fact that we often keep our light under a bushel, when we should let it shine.  I believe what that song is about is what Mark Bezos was encouraging.  We should do something good every day that lets our light shine.  Especially at this dark time of year, the world would definitely benefit if each of us brought our light fully into the world.

Friday, December 20, 2013

The Evolution of Acceptance

Tonight was my night to volunteer at Washington's Arena Stage. Volunteers get to see a performance after working, and the play was "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner." When the Academy Award-winning movie came out in 1967, it rocked America. Not only was the prospect of an interracial marriage shocking at the time, but the candor with which it dealt with racism in both the black and white parents poignantly seized audiences. While I'm sure that there are still places where such a pairing would still create waves, after several generations of mixed marriages, there are many settings in which it would hardly cause ripple.

Now instead of being rocked by interracial marriage, same-sex marriage is at center stage. Coincidentally, today New Mexico became the 17th state to allow same-sex marriage. On one of those end-of-the-year news reflection programs today, a commentator opined that the speed with which such nuptials had gained acceptance was a prominent story in itself.

People fall in love. They want to commit to being with each other, but others think they should make the rules. They tell us that someone is the wrong color, ethnicity, or gender...that someone is too poor or has the wrong job or went to the wrong school.

We are supposed to love God and love each other. Period. Not judge others. Accept them. Love them. That's it. And, that is how we evolve. We evolve ourselves as we evolve acceptance.





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Time-Traveling...Again

I put up a Christmas tree last weekend for the first time in several years.  It wasn't easy: the tree is way bigger than I am.  But, with the help of the man at the Christmas tree lot who tied it on top of the car, the doorman at my apartment who brought it up to my apartment, and a friend who held it while I screwed the base into the tree, I managed.  After said friend left, I put the lights on the tree, and then, I carefully placed my special ornaments, acquired one or two a year over 30 years onto the tree. 

Finally, I sat down with an eggnog, allowed myself to be enveloped by the scent of fresh pine, and just looked at the tree.  For me, my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine.  I am six again.  That doesn't mean I am sentimental about old times, because I hardly think about them. When I say my Christmas tree is a time-travel machine, I mean that I am six again, in awe of the lights.  It is like I am three feet high again, just looking in amazement at the wonder of its beauty. And, totally present.  Not a thought in my head, but joy in every cell of my body. 

I've noticed that each time I turn the lights on, it happens all over again.  Even when I plug the lights in at 5:20 in the morning as I race around getting ready for work, the tree stops me dead in my tracks.  I am six again, mesmerized by the lights.  When I was a youngster, I used to like to sleep on the sofa when the Christmas tree was up so that I could wake up in the middle of the night and feel its beauty.  Ah...I might just do that again.

What is most wonderful is the ability to totally still my mind into the present moment...now that is Christmas magic!

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

The Black Pitcher

When I was a young bride, and the groom and I were merging possessions into our new home, he opened a box and slowly withdrew a beautifully shaped black metal pitcher.  He said, "I know it's ugly, but it was my grandmother's.  We don't have to use it, but I don't want to get rid of it." 

"OK," I said, not sure what to make of it.  One day when he was out of the house, I dug out the pitcher and took on a challenge.  Thirty minutes, a lot of elbow grease, and a container of silver polish later, I had a beautiful antique silver water pitcher. 

Later when my husband walked in and saw the shiny pitcher, he looked at me quizzically, "What?"

I smiled and said, "It is silver: it was just tarnished."

This morning I was walking through the Metro Center station, saying my affirmation to myself, "We are all love." Then, I started thinking about some people I know who aren't exactly the personification of love.  The silver pitcher came to mind.  Those unpleasant people are love, tarnished till they can't be can't be recognized for their true nature, just like the pitcher.  We are all tarnished.  Our challenge: find our way back to silver.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Slippery Slopes

Most of us...probably all of us...have at least one slippery slope in our lives with which we struggle.  A slippery slope is the door to an addiction for which opening inevitably leads us over a cliff.  I've known for a long time that sugar is a slippery slope for me.  As long as I don't touch it at all, I don't think about, but one grain sets off uncontrollable cravings for more. 

This afternoon I had a conversation with someone from a client group who talked about what a serious addiction sugar was.  We agreed that if there was a sugarholics anonymous, we would both be candidates for membership.  Particularly at this time of year, everywhere we looked a homemade goodie tempts us over the edge.  Alcohol and drugs are well known addictions, but there are many which are less known and about which we may never had thought.  For instance, I am sure housecleaning was one for my mother.  For some of my friends, the computer is a slippery slope.

Recently, I realized that my flat-screen TV had become another slippery slope for me.  When I realized it, I puzzled for some time: how did this happen to me?  When I was growing up, our viewing time was severely limited.  As a young adult, several years passed during which I didn't even own a set, and then when I did, I didn't have cable for at least two decades.  About two years ago, I was convinced to replace my big hunker ancient TV with a flat screen.  It is much more convenient for someone of my diminutive stature than the one that weighed more than I did, and being able to plug into my laptop and watch programs online is very cool.

I can really tell you some of the steps to my semi-addiction (most days about two hours, but weekends definitely more.)  When I needed to purchase an internet connection, cable was very little extra.  When I had cable, there were many more viewing options.  Then, when I had a bicycle accident about 18 months ago and couldn't move around a lot, viewing was effortless.  I was tired when I got home from work and it was an easy alternative to reading while keeping my foot propped up.  Following eye surgery, I needed to be still, and reading was difficult. TV was effortless.

While those things were happening, I developed relationships with some of those people.  The weekly visits were like having old friends come to visit. John Stewart, John Oliver, and Stephen Colbert were funny dinner companions at the end of often humorless days.  How I got hooked is about as easy to figure out as identifying a drug addict's gateway drug.  However, taking a close look at the slippery slope really surprised me.

I've gained 10 pounds in the last year.  Why?  Instead of going to walk or workout after work, John and Stephen seduced me, and once the tube was on, that's where I stayed. Pounds weren't all that I'd been accumulating.  I went out a few months ago and bought another book shelf to hold all the books that I'd purchased but not read.  Instead of reading, which takes a little effort, I could be totally passive with the TV.  Turning on the power to that flat-screened seductress is my slippery slope: I know the instant it happens, the likelihood of skipping exercise and reading increases dramatically.

When I coach people trying to change habits, I encourage them to "scratch the record" on the behavior.  For those who aren't old enough to know what that means, in the days of vinyl records (and before that, tin, wax, and shellac) if something scratched the record, hence forth and ever more, when that record was played when the needle got to the scratch it would jump--over and over and over.  When a record is scratched, the scratch cannot be ignored. 

Metaphorically, scratching a record on a habit is something similar.  We identify something to help us avoid the slippery slope or at least stop it before going over the edge.  During the December sugar season at work, I skip the open houses or go late enough that the goodies are gone.  I walk the long way to the printer so I don't have to walk by the table of sweets. 

At home, I skip the glass of red wine that I enjoy with dinner but I know reduces my will power, will almost certainly lead to dessert, and continue to trigger sugar cravings all evening.  Having iced tea instead keeps me from going over the edge...most of the time.  Walking to a Metro stop that is farther away than the one around the corner ensures that I will get my exercise before I get home and turn on the TV.  The minute that John Stewart finishes interviewing his guest, if I turn off the TV, I am more likely to do something more energizing.  This evening I called a friend, I'm writing this blog before bedtime, and I will probably even have time to read for a bit before falling to sleep.

Recognizing slippery slopes and scratching the record on them is essential to living with intention.  When I identify new behaviors that help me live the life I want to live instead of one borne of habit, I am laying the groundwork for intention.  If I can stop the things that stand in my way of living my life, nothing can stop me from creating it.

Monday, December 16, 2013

The Precision of Words

Successful coaching is a lot like fishing: I have to know when to leave some slack and when to crank the reel.  The use of words is one of my biggest challenges.  So common is the habit of using the word "you" when a person really is speaking about themselves that it has become acceptable.  For example,  a person says "You just really don't realize...." when he means "I really don't realize..." or "You'd like to think you could do it" when she means "I'd really like to think that I could do it." While grammar is almost compulsive for me, this really isn't about grammar, and I don't want my coaching clients to think this is about petty use of language.

The words that we use really make a difference, though--they make a difference in the ownership we take of our situation.  In the case of "you"/"I," using "you" often makes the assumption that the ubiquitous "you"-- everyone--has the same experience of something as I do.  Other times it implies that we may know something that we don't.  A number of years ago, I recall reading an article about what divers found when they discovered a plane that had crashed in the ocean.  The diver, speaking to reporters, said, "We found what you would expect to find in a plane that had crashed into the water."  Well, I thought, I don't have any idea what to expect when a plane crashes into the water.

When I am coaching someone who is giving away ownership with the use of "you" when he or she means "I" or "me," I have to know when it would be useful to call that to the person's attention.  Sometimes, it is important: "You don't expect your boss to treat you that way," means something very different than, "I don't expect my boss to treat me that way."  Ownership and self-worth are reflected in the latter.

Another ownership word is "try." "I'll try to do that," more often than not means it's not gonna happen.  Contrasted to "I will do that," which reflects responsibility and commitment.

Today, I was coaching someone, who used the word "need" repeatedly during our session.  I kept biting my tongue.  Was it important to say something or not? Finally, as she described her action plan using the word "need" several times, I knew I had to say something.  "What..." I asked, "if you chose to do those things instead of needing to do them? What difference would it make?"

There was a stunned silence.  "A lot."  As she repeated her action plan again, this time saying, "I choose to..." she began to describe how she could feel a difference in her body and in her mind. "It is as if I can already begin to feel it happening."  The words we use really do make a difference.

I truly wish I could say that I am totally conscious of my language usage and never use "you" when I mean "me," or "try" and "need" when I mean "choose."  The truth is that I do occasionally.  At this point, I usually catch myself and wince as I realize what I have done, for I know that the words do make a difference.  The words help me be responsible and accountable for creating my life.  That is the intention I bring to creating my life.  Often it is as simple as choosing the word I use.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

My Perfect Life

Intention is a funny thing.  When we know the feeling of what we want and then let the Universe guide us to it, the result is almost always far more extraordinary than anything we could have imagined. 

Today I had 30 minutes between church and a lunch appointment.  Washington was bathed in the beauty of a cobalt sky and sunshine, so instead of jumping on the Metro, I decided to walk.  A shivering cold was quickly offset by the head of steam my walk generated. I walked by the many beautiful buildings, first the White House, the old Post Office Building, and many other stately buildings that framed the Capitol Building at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue.  At one point, I just stopped and looked and said out loud, "What a beautiful city I live in!" 

I could not have imagined just a few years ago that I would be living in Washington...or that I'd even want to.  What I did know is that I wanted to have the feeling of a neighborhood, that I wanted to live in nature, that I wanted to leave a smaller environmental footprint, including being able to get along without an automobile, and that I wanted to do work that used my gifts and talents...and that I loved.  Piece by piece, by following guidance, the picture that is my life has been coming together.

My apartment backs up on a national park, I can walk or Metro almost everywhere I need to go, and I haven't even missed the car that I gave up almost four years ago.  I am doing just the kind of work that I had dreamed about doing and using my passion and gift for writing on this blog.  Then suddenly one day, I'm walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, knowing that I am living my perfect life.

A piece or two may be missing, but I know I haven't felt them deeply enough. Feeling is how the Universe communicates.  When I feel the last pieces enough, my whole perfect life will be as I intended, unimpeded by any thoughts of what the final picture should look like.   Until then, I will love my perfect life, as it unfolds every day.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Expecting the Unexpected

By now, I should just trust that when I am being guided, something extraordinary is going to happen. For some crazy reason, I continue to be surprised, sometimes even awe-struck. So it was this afternoon, when I met Alexander.

But first I should share a little back story. My day started with a special docent tour at the National Gallery of nativity art by the Old Masters. I enjoy art but really don't know much about it, so I am like a sponge when I am around someone so knowledgeable. When we finished around noon, though, I was snapped back to my busy to-do list. I had only this afternoon to do most of my holiday shopping, and I really wanted something fresh to wear to a dance this evening. While I could have gone off racing, I didn't. Instead of slipping into high gear, I meandered with ease. I noticed the clever art on the windows of the Starbucks, and I even chuckled outloud at the "To..." label someone had stuck on the outside of a window painted with a gift box and ribbons on the inside.

Then, I started walking by a number of homeless people, who were panhandling. I gave small amounts to two before entering a store. When I came out, I automatically turned right toward the Metro which was just a short distance when I got a clear message: "Walk!" OK: my next destination was just one Metro stop. Then, I was guided very specifically on my route, walking by several more panhandlers.

Then, Alexander asked for money for coffee. (At this point, of course, I didn't know he was Alexander.) I immediately knew that I was to say "yes" to this tall, thin African-American young man with dreadlocks and goatee. Almost as quickly, I knew I was to take him for coffee, not give him money. For the 150 feet to the McDonald's, my conversation was guided. The short version is that I bought Alexander coffee...and lunch, and I stayed to talk with him.

To say this was a most unexpected conversation would be an understatement. Alexander had been in DC for two years, since the death of his mother, to do research at the Library of Congress. He pulled out a stack of papers (2" high) to show me the genealogical research he'd been working on. We talked for at least an hour, a conversation that touched on algebra, genetics/chromosomes, farming, law, etiquette, posture (I straightened mine,) and theology. We also talked about doing good in the world, gratitude, following what Alexander called his "zeal," and helping others be better. His vocabulary was impressive even as he talked about wanting to get his GED.

I say "we" because while I was engaged in the conversation, mostly Alexander was talking like someone starved for someone to listen. Twice he stopped and asked if I didn't have somewhere else I needed to be, and twice I quite honestly said I was enjoying the conversation and learning from him. I learned stuff, but mostly I learned about my judgment. I also learned how grateful I was that I had taken time to listen to the voice that had brought Alexander into my life today. I had totally forgotten my to-do list.

As we parted, I looked Alexander in the eye and sincerely thanked him for allowing me to sit with him during lunch. I asked him to do one thing for me. "Please," I said, "will you do something kind for another person before you sleep?"

He smiled from ear to ear as he said, "I will!" The truth is that he already had. The Grocery Store Game keeps delivering the unexpected.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday, December 13, 2013

Love is a Precious Thing

There are so many kinds of love, and so many thing to love.

-The love of an intimate partner
-The love of a friend
-The love of a performance
-The love of a work of art
-The love of nature
-The love of the beach at sunset
-The love of flying a kite so high that I can hard see it or hang on to it
-The love of doing something for which I have passion
-The love of decorating for Christmas
-The love of a favorite movie, play, or book
-The love of an amazing building
-The love of the warmth of the sun on my cheek

They are all precious...as precious as life itself.  I know there have been times when I have squandered love, and I remember moments of total awareness of each kind of love and totally feeling its preciousness with my whole being.  I think really feeling love must be about as close as we get to feeling God or heaven on earth.  Love is joyful--that deep satisfying joy that explodes into life.  Love is a precious thing...a miracle.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Smile!

On my way out of the building after work this evening, I caught a glimpse of someone from the corner of my eye, and I literally turned in place to go back and speak to him.  This man has the best smile in the building.  I know his job is demanding, but I have never once seen him when he wasn't
smiling and pleasant.  He is one of those people who can brighten my day, and those of everyone he sees, without saying a word. 

Since I hadn't talked with him in a while, I decided that I would make a conscious connection.  As I turned to walk into the galley where he stood by a vending machine, I started to say, "Your smile brightens my day!" just about the time he was saying something similar to me.  We laughed and talked briefly about how a good smile could just brighten the day.

Then he said the name of a work colleague, a man with developmental delays, who has a great smile.  He does, and I think the man knows almost all of our 1,000 people.  He always has a pleasant smile and a funny word.  What he may lack in other abilities, he more than gives back with his smile and humor.

The day had evolved differently than I had expected.  A very long meeting that I had expected to be unpleasant played out with humor, and in a group that had been working together for months, we actually got to know each other a bit.  Our work was still onerous, but much more enjoyable than other days during which humor had been absent.

While my day was enriched by people who smiled, laughed, and connected pleasantly, occasionally someone walks through my life who brings a negative shadow.  They always have an unpleasant word to say, and when I see them coming, I often try to avoid them. No matter how I try to be pleasant, they resist. While the smilers make my day, those who are dour can kill it.  The way I see it, we always have a choice.  If we have the intention of making the world better, then we bring the smile and the laughter.  Why not? It is way more fun than leaving a wake of negativity around us.

This round of the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13) continues to surprise me as I make connections in ways that surprise me.  Today's connections were with people with whom I've been interacting, but today was characterized by humor and interest that usually isn't part of the interaction.   What seems to be a consistent part of The Grocery Store Game is that when I reach out to connect with others to honor them, each person brightens my day.  Give a little with the expectation of giving and surprise! I get a lot back.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Making Time for Intention

A friend who lives across the country and I talk every week or two.  This evening we talked about what gets in the way of living our intentions.  There are many things, but (should we be surprised?) anything that takes us out of the present moment keeps us from living our intentions.

To live with intention implies allowing ourselves to be led to our vision.  Way too often what gets in the way are the demands of the to-do list. If we spend our days racing from one item on the to-do list to the next, following where we are led gets squeezed out.  If we are really open to intention, we frequently stop to ask, "What would you have me do now?" or "Which way should I walk?" or even "Who in this building full of people I don't know should I connect with?"  Allowing ourselves to be led by the answers we receive.  My friend described "the dance between demands of the to-do list and allowing." 

Nearly as often what gets in the way are habits.  I am accustomed to going to the same Metro station, making the same changes, stopping at the store on the way home, and checking the mail before I get home.  Then I start another round of habits.  Empty the dirty dishes from my lunch from my bag, make coffee and lunch for tomorrow, make something for dinner, and sit to watch the Stephen Colbert and John Stewart episodes from the night before while I eat.  Then there is the set of clean-up-after-dinner habits. You get the idea: I move from one set of habits to the next until, eventually, I fall into bed.  Most of this is so totally autopilot that I forget to ask the, "What-would-you-have-me-do?" questions. 

I do better on the weekends, but that means that 5/7 of my life, I am missing the opportunity to follow. 

Of course, the perfect distraction from living with intention is to combine the two: be perpetually overbooked so that we habitually move from one appointment to the next without thinking.

Perhaps one of the reasons that I so enjoy writing this blog is because I just sit and listen.  Living with intention is about listening--listening to what you know in your heart.  Making time for intention is making time to listen and allowing time to follow what you know in your heart.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Just Imagine

I awakened in the middle of the night with a strange smell in my nose.  Instantly, I knew what the pungent odor was, but it wasn't coming from my apartment.  As best I can tell, it came in a dream.  I don't recall any visual images or action from the dream, but I do remember the smell.  I was warmed all over by the unpleasantness.

When I was in grade school and junior high, my father worked as a tool and die maker.  He was highly skilled, and his company's customers sometimes flew him to their locations to solve problems.  On one of those trips, he was recruited for a mid-management company for one of the Big Three American auto makers.  But for all those years before he put on a dress shirt and tie, he would come home with the smell of grease on his clothes.  Despite what might have otherwise been unpleasant, it was wonderful to me.  My father and I were close, and he'd always scoop me up in a big bear hug.  If love has a smell to me, it is the smell of grease from his machine shop.

As I've pondered, I cannot remember any details of the dream, but I've felt love all day.  The consideration, however, has taken me in a different direction.  We as humans have an incredible ability to transcend time and space--you might call us time travelers.  A single thought, smell, picture, or even a phrase can transport us to another time.  For me, it was the smell of grease that reminded me of the warmth of my father's love and hugs.  The smell of fried chicken or a freshly baked pie sends me to my grandma's kitchen.  The crunch of snow under my feet recalls building a snowman as a child.

We also have the ability to travel forward in time, and doing so is something that my coaching clients frequently do as they plan for their futures.  Time travel, they find, is really the foundation of living with intention.  Creating a vision of our future self, which we firmly connect into our being, produces a target of the future.  Of course, then we have to act consistent with the vision to see it explode into our lives, but the time travel is the first step. 

How does this work?  Someone who has problems with a knee because she is over-weight envisions herself as healthy and mobile.  Then working back in time she discovers how she needs to eat and exercise now to deliver that dream. Finally, the hard part, she needs to act on what she has come to know. What do you need to do right now to enable the vision, I ask? The vision of the future healthy her shows the way.  (No matter how much of a picture she has, if she continues eating a pint of super-rich ice cream while she watches TV every evening, the vision will not find life.)

Similarly, a client who envisioned herself inspiring young women in her profession saw herself on stage giving funny speeches.  What does she need to do right now to start bringing life to the intention, I ask?  An artist who has a commission but has the artist equivalent of writer's block imagines a wonderful painting that touches the audience.  What does she need to do right now to allow that painting to move through her?  My desire to have a warm relationship with neighbors (12/9/13) started coming to life when I knocked on my neighbor's door last night with chocolate cake in hand. 

Our ability to imagine something that hasn't yet existed is as powerful as our ability to time travel backward. The vision provides those in the invisible realm that assist us to live our dreams to know what we want.  In many ways much of what I've written about in this blog has been about bringing intention to what we want to create in our lives--bringing to live what we know in our hearts.  Just imagine what we dream to start it being so.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Being neighborly

Just before 1 a.m. this morning a very loud siren and voice went off in my apartment, informing me that there had been a fire emergency in the building and that I was to evacuate immediately.  It repeated over and over again. I struggled to pull myself out of a deep sleep.  Not likely that this was a fire drill at 1 a.m., so I'd better treat this seriously...as soon as I could wake up.

We were in the middle of a winter storm, so if I was going to be outside for a while, I should dress for it.  Problem is that we haven't really had winter weather, and I moved last winter. I had to hunt for gloves and boots.  I never found a hat, which I haven't worn since I moved. Purse and checkbook.  As I was about to leave the apartment, I remembered the fire preparation information I received recently had informed me that I should close interior doors before leaving.  (I forgot the part about leaving my apartment unlocked.)

After traipsing down several flights of stairs and a hall to the lobby, my neighbors and I were told we could stay inside.  The source of the alarm couldn't be found.  Shortly afterward, the fire truck and firemen arrived.  We could stay inside, but we couldn't go back to bed until the building had been cleared. 

There we stood and sat in the lobby.  Very old people, babies, and almost every combination in between: a microcosm of the city under one roof. A few of the older residents chatted, but most of us didn't really know each other.  While I would like to meet my neighbors, doing so in the middle of the night, when I am half asleep and in my pajamas wasn't exactly when I wanted to reach and touch someone. For almost an hour, we waited, and I pondered that I've lived here just over a year and could only spot four people that I vaguely knew.

I don't know if it has been the places I've lived over the last 20 years, or if times have been changing, but each place I've lived, I've usually known only one or two neighbors--very unlike when I'd been a child and young adult when we knew everyone in the neighborhood.  There was a time in my twenties when all the couples in our neighborhood would gravitate to someone's front porch late Saturday afternoon for popcorn, chips, and libations. 

In the lovely home and neighborhood in which I lived in North Carolina, I recalled reflecting that many of my neighbors had automatic garage door openers and managed to escape any contact with the rest of us by opening and closing the door without even getting out of the car.

So, today, I decided to be neighborly.  I'd baked a cake yesterday.  I cut portions and put on paper plates, covered with Saran Wrap, and rang door bells.  Today I played The Grocery Store Game (12/1/13) with my neighbors.  I had met them, but mostly just speaking in the hall or at the door.  Today, I went in for brief visits and actually started to get to know them. There is something about crossing into someone's home that is intimate: there is a sense that you know something about them from the artwork and furniture that they've chosen.  As I head to bed this evening, I feel the warmth of my neighbors in my heart as I go to bed.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Like Water for Chocolate And Such Things

Twenty years ago, "Like Water for Chocolate" was a popular movie about a young woman--Tita--who was a wonderful cook, and she had the magical ability to infuse whatever she was cooking with the feelings she had when she was preparing the food.  On days when she was sad, the sadness went into the food, and guests would cry when they ate.  When she was joyful, they felt the joy in what she had cooked.

I love to cook.  I had a lot of things to do on this afternoon of "winter mix"--snow and sleet.  I did almost none of them and cooked instead.  A friend, who has a wonderful Christmas party, has asked me to bring a cake.  I set about to test recipes to find one suitable for the occasion and for my seriously chocoholic friend. 

When I bake, I get lost in time.  I am so connected to what I am doing that everything else drops away.  The technical term for what happens is the "flow" state.  Those who study such things say that a person in the flow state has developed enough competence that they don't really have to think about what they are doing.  My term for it is passion: a deep connection between gift and a love of what I am doing. I think that is probably what happened to Tita, and why her feelings became part of what she cooked. 

Being in the flow state is a gift, almost an out-of-body experience. I feel it most of the time when I write or dance with a great partner, as well as when I cook. I've even felt it when I was speaking. To use one's passions and gifts in this way is a responsibility. Surrender totally to a gift and passion transforms one to a truly heaven on earth.  Over the last few months, writing this blog has transformed me in the same way, and I am keenly aware how critical being in flow is for my happiness and sense of purpose.

I hope that those, who partake of the fruits of my labor at my friend's party, will feel my passion in each bite.  Sharing with them is my gift to her, them, and me.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Winter Storms

Our first serious winter storm in several years is headed toward Washington.  By early afternoon tomorrow, the snow should have started, and into Sunday night, sleet will fall.  After volunteering at a local theatre this afternoon, I headed out, like many Washingtonians, to run errands and purchase provisions.  By the time I dragged my parcels in a few hours later, I was hungry and tired, and my feet ached.

I am sure that there were preparatory activities of which I wasn't aware before the winter storms of my childhood, and I am also confident that, living in the Midwest where winter storms are inevitable, regular, and more significant, my family took the weather more in stride.  Washington is winter weather skittish.  (The story is that during their first winter in Washington the Obama daughters, accustomed to severe Midwestern weather, were incredulous the first time schools closed for a dusting of snow.)

Despite those realities, this afternoon, I reflected with reverie on the winter storms of my childhood.  Weather was less predictable then (or at least, I didn't know the forecasts,) and winter storms sort of showed up as a surprise one morning without warning.  I can remember my mother whispering in my ear as I slept, "It snowed last night." 

Never a morning person, I would normally loll around as long as I possibly could, but those four magic words would send me bolting from bed to jump into snow clothes and head out to play.  I confess that when I was over 50 that I can remember something similar when it snowed at my home in North Carolina.  I was grateful for the 7-year-old next door who I could use as an excuse for taking a few hours off from work to play in the snow.

The best winter storms were the ones that were too severe for my dad to go to work, and he would play in the snow with us.  The highlight was when he would make "snow cream," an ice cream-like concoction that he would whip up in the mixer with snow, sugar, milk, and vanilla. We loved it.  The very best was just having down time with the family.  All plans were cancelled. We couldn't go out except to play in the snow or shovel paths.  There wasn't much to do except romp in the snow, play games, drink hot chocolate, eat snow cream, and make grilled cheese sandwiches.  Quality family time.

As nostalgic as it was, sadly that time is passed.  Today when I thought about this winter storm, I was glad that I had worked off-site on Friday and had my computer at home in case a storm kept us home on Monday.  Now instead of an unplanned holiday of quality time with family, a storm simply means that I work from home instead of going to the office.

I am not sure that we can ever replace those spontaneous holidays, but when I came in this evening hungry, tired, and with aching feet, for an instant my mind time-traveled back decades and slipped into a hot-chocolate-snow-cream-and-snowmen moment.  There were many things about that era that were no so nice, so I wouldn't say that I'd like to go back, but just for tomorrow afternoon, I'd like to slip back to a spontaneous holiday moment.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Reconciliation

Once or twice a century the world is blessed with a truly wise leader.  Yesterday the world lost one of them when Nelson Mandela died. 

Over 20 years after Mandela was released from 27 years in prison, I still find it mind-boggling that he was wise enough to respond to severe personal and societal repression by advocating a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC.)  The purpose of the TRC was to give thousands of people the opportunity to face their oppressors, for the oppressors to tell their stories, and most of the time to forgive each other.

Back in the day when I spoke at a lot of conferences, John Dawson and I both addressed a number of the same conferences.  Dawson founded the International Reconciliation Coalition in 1990. (http://reconciled1.com/international-reconciliation-coalition-overview/)  His organization is founded on religious conviction, but the reconciliation ceremonies that he led around the world often addressed secular ills from mistreatment of Native Americans to abused women.  The purpose of his work was to provide an opportunity to injured peoples to hear an apology for their pain, and by so doing, allowed the oppressed to move beyond their pain.

Reconciliation is a powerful concept: the end of a conflict between disputing people or groups without retaliation.   In the Roman Catholic Church reconciliation is a sacrament whereby a person confesses his or her sins and offers penance to be absolve of misdeeds.  Whether part of a church sacrament or a secular ritual like the TRC, reconciliation is God's opportunity for us to admit we could do better, to be sorry, and to be forgiven, and by so doing, we return to God.

Mandela provides me with a powerful example or forgiveness and reconciliation.  If a man who was imprisoned for decades can forgive and reconcile, then most certainly I have nothing that should stand in my way of doing the same.

 

 


Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Forgiveness of All Humankind

Almost three months ago, I adopted a new set of eight spiritual statements upon which to focus my spiritual growth during this dark half of the year.  At least several times a day, and sometimes many times a day, I say and reflect upon these affirmations.  Something shifted yesterday.  As I was saying them, suddenly one took on new meaning.  I've had this happen before.  My understanding has to get deep enough for me to truly "get it." I find it a bit like looking at something, which has been in the shadows, but which the sun has finally reached: wow! all the color, dimension and intricacies that I missed when it was in the semi-darkness.

Yesterday, the statement  "My work is the forgiveness of all humankind" shifted. Since I write, speak, and coach, I have been thinking that I was supposed to encourage people with whom I come in contact to forgive people in their lives.  The idea, I thought, was that if enough people forgave enough others that eventually all humankind would be forgiven.

As I've sunk more and more deeply into this spiritual learning, a different meaning has revealed itself to me.  To paraphrase, sometimes it is all about me.  Yesterday's revelation was that I am supposed to forgive everyone with whom I have ever come in contact, no matter how big or small their grievance.  At first doing so didn't really seem like such a big deal.  I regularly "purge" myself of grudges, resentments, and anger with forgiveness.  I don't think that I harbor much.  People in my life who have committed egregious offenses have not only be forgiven but forgotten as well. I even forgive myself from time to time, although I admit that I am not nearly as good about self-forgiveness.

Consequently, I am not sure why forgiving all humankind seems like such big deal, besides the fact that "all humankind" is a whole boat load of people.  As I've meditated on this, the spheres of influence on forgiveness have broadened.  Not just people who have done things to me, but resentments I may carry about violations of others are included.  Then, there was the wave about people who have committed destructive acts to the planet and even crimes against humanity. Of course, with my personal interest in politics, there are plenty of politicians that could do with some forgiving. There are also the historical violations of our individual and collective ancestors, such as slavery, the treatment of Native Americans in the US, and the near extinction of many species.  You get the idea.  The more I sit with it, the more I am able to see just how much in the world is to be forgiven. 

I am certain that this forgiveness of all humankind is the work of a lifetime.  I expect that in the time during which I forgive one or two that a dozen more acts will have been committed to be forgiven.  If I really think about it, I am overwhelmed, so I just don't think about it...at least not in a worrisome way.  If I did, I'd have to forgive myself for worrying.  I am still trying to just be with how this plays out, but I sense that at the end, I will be back in that most alluring spot: being present.  With nothing to pull me into the past or the future, here I am...now...present.

I believe I've mentioned before that spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said our most important spiritual work is to be present.  As I explore the many dimensions of spiritual growth and learning, all roads seem to lead back to being present.  It makes sense that if we get to the place where we can truly be present in the present, we would have mastered many other spiritual lessons along the way.
For now, it seems to me that the dimension of being present with which I am currently engaged is to forgive...and forgive...and forgive some more.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Joy!

"Joy to the world
All the boys and girls now
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me."

That earworm of the song, which was popularized in 1970 by the Three Dog Night, has been playing in my head since I sat quietly and asked for guidance on writing this blog post.  Hmmm!  What am I to say?  The song just keeps playing.

I wonder if it relates at all to an article that I read earlier this evening about the level of trust in the United States being at an all-time low.  A major survey, which has been repeated for 40 years, reported that just about a third of people in the country think that they can trust most people.  The article related the diminishing level of trust to less involvement in community organizations and activities, increased isolated television viewing, decline of traditional values, and the 24/7 news cycle.  Not much joy in any of that. 

The last couple of times I've played the Grocery Store Game (12/1/13) I've found that it is harder to connect than it used to be.  Our electronics have significantly changed our lives.  Until 3-4 years ago, I often had a conversation on the train with a random person.  While I have no way of actually knowing whether I can trust the person more after a conversation, somehow that familiarity makes me think I can trust that person. 

However, most days now most people are hunkered over their smartphones, iPads, or laptops with ear buds in place--safely "protected" from either visual or auditory contact.I literally cannot remember when I've said anything to anyone on the train other than, "Excuse me: this is my stop.)    Even walking down the street, people are looking at their devices and shutting out sound. Lest you think I am anti-technology, I fully confess that I have been guilty of the above activity. While our devices give us the illusion of being connected, they actually have the opposite effect. We have become a siloed world instead of a connected one, when connection is what it takes to build trust, and it certainly encourages joy.

As the song suggests, joy comes from connecting with people and nature around us.  For those who have taken the Grocery Store Game challenge, this is the important work we are taking on: bringing the intention of connection to our encounters, building trust and creating joy.  This is good work we are doing. Ah! Joy to the world!

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Life's Little Surprises

A reader forwarded my challenge to change the world in 30 days (12/1/13) to a friend.  The friend responded that her husband "wins at this game daily--and he didn't even know he was playing."  What a gift this man has!  And, dare I say, I suspect the wife is richly blessed by this relationship as well. 

I have several spiritual practices that I've repeated periodically for most of 20 years: twice a year meditation retreat, gratitude journaling, gratitude meditation (9/24/13, 11/26/13,) rotating affirmations, and The Grocery Store Game (10/25/13).  Sometimes they will go along predictably for many cycles, and just when I think I know what to expect, the Universe throws me a curve ball and gives me a new lesson to learn.  I thank I can confidently say the curve balls have always been pleasant, just not what I expected.

My Thanksgiving gratitude meditation, which I've done for many years, for instance, took a new twist this year.  I've usually counted on my memory to recall each day and its gifts.  This year, I decided to enlist technology in my preparation.  Before I began my meditation, I went through my Outlook and iPhone calendars for the year, and I made note of things all year.  I can't say that I wouldn't have thought of all of them when I sat, but refreshing my memory was lovely.  A number of times I found myself smiling and remembering a conversation warmly.  Two friends--one across the country and the other in Canada--became standing conversation appointments.  How they enriched my life last year.  Having a reminder for lots of little things, like a new haircut/style and renting a car for a gardening adventure in March, was rich...a most pleasant surprise.

This afternoon, I had an Aha! moment about this round of The Grocery Store Game.  In the past my connections have been with people I didn't know and usually non-verbal.  I have had some of those, but to my delight today, I recognized that the game was surprising me this round.  Most of my days  at work are spent on a dead run.  I think most people would say that I am friendly: I always smile and cheerfully greet people.  Rarely, however, do I stop and talk to people as I move around the building.  I did that several times today.  At about 3:30 as I finished one such delightful conversation with someone I really don't know well, it occurred to me what was happening.  I was getting to know people who in the past had only been superficial acquaintances. What a sweet surprise!

I love surprises, and I find it such a gift to let life deliver surprises to me when I least expect them.  Even more a gift is being present enough to notice!

Monday, December 2, 2013

Living with Intention: It's about Priorities

I was talking with a colleague today about my gratitude meditation. She said, "I don't have time for meditation." I said , "It's not about time: it's about priorities."

This is a lesson I learned too well this weekend. I had almost finished with my preparations for The Game Called Life when the government shutdown ended on October 17. "One more day," I'd said, "and I would have been finished." So close, but in 40 days I hadn't made finishing the book a priority. Then, on Thanksgiving Day, by grace, all the families that I usually spend holidays with were away. Ah, I thought, this is my chance.

I wanted to start day with my gratitude meditation; then a walk seemed in order since it was a beautiful, if crisp, day. I am a cook; I couldn't allow this food holiday to pass without cooking and, of course, eating. Then, I watched a couple movies that I can't even recall now. By that time, I wrote my blog and fell into bed. Oops! No time for The Game Called Life. It's not about time: it's about priorities.

That evening after I brushed my teeth, I took a long look into the mirror. Kay, where are your priorities? Well, it is clear that they hadn't been with The Game Called Life.

Saturday morning I got up, got cleaned up, and before I would let myself do anything, I edited. I am truly embarrassed to say that in under three hours, I had the manuscript marked and changes made to the electronic copy. Three hours! In 40 days I hadn't made time for a three-hour task. Saturday I lived my priorities.

Living with intention is simply knowing what is important and putting it first, every single day. By the magnitude of a thousand small decisions, we create our lives. When we live with intention, our decisions are conscious ones, rather than ones made mindlessly by default, as I'd been doing frittering away time over the last 40 days.

You see, my colleague really was living intentionally. She has aging parents that she cares for and teen and young adult children. At this stage in her life, they are her priorities. Living with intention is living our priorities, and that is exactly what she is doing.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Could We Change the World in 30 Days?

December is officially upon us with the long dark days it brings on either side of the Winter Solstice.  I've been thinking: what better time of the year to bring more light into our days than December?  And, even better, what if we could change the world in the 30 days that remain?  I just think it might be possible.  Here's what I have in mind.

A little over a month ago, I wrote about The Grocery Store Game (The Grocery Store Game, 10/25/13) and then on Friday I shared conversations about the need of each of us to be treated with human dignity (Being the Change, 11/29/13.)  I started thinking about what if everyone who reads this blog commits to playing The Grocery Store Game for the month of December.  For those who didn't read the 10/25 post, the short version is that we use every interaction with others as an opportunity to create connection.  The game gets its name from its origins with grocery store checkers and clerks.  Look them in the eye, see their human dignity, and create a connection.  You can do this with people on the phone, as well, just allow yourself to be present to the human being on the other end of the line.

Opportunities are literally everywhere.  I had a brief conversation with a homeless man today, in which I connected.  However, I failed to connect with a man who looked through me at church as he shook my hand while looking elsewhere. I was successful with the cashier at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I can see treating co-workers, spouses, and children with human dignity.  It doesn't cost anything.  It really takes negligibly more time.  All it takes is the intention to connect and respect our fellow human beings.

Of course, it would be great if we could spend the month of December connecting with the human dignity in everyone we interact with, but if that is a stretch, if we would just agree to connect with at least three people each day, what a difference we could make.  Even better is to enlist others in the game.  I suspect that there will be a multiplier effect during this month when many are so busy because we will be reversing a trend of non-connection.

When I am playing the game, I find it helpful at the end of each day to keep track of who I really connected with. (You don't need names.  The produce clerk at Safeway will do.) Think of it as "keeping score," although everyone wins in this game. I also find that when I have "puny" days that I bring even more intention to the next day.  In the next 30 days, if each reader connected with just three people, that would be 90 connections in the month per person. Consider 10-11 or 25 connections. You can do the math. 

It is easy to think that we really can't do much to change the state of the world, but when I consider how many thousands of connections that this blog's readers can create in just one month, I am truly hopeful.  Even better is that it takes 30 days of doing something consistently to form a habit.  If each of you actually does this for the month of December, we could form a habit of interacting with others from human dignity.

I invite you play and share the game with friends...and share your stories about connection in comments.  What a wonderful way to close 2013...and start a new way of being for 2014!  Thanks for doing what you can do to change the world in 30 days.